#untill i explain it’s an inside joke with my family

[cicada-dyke]

i swear cis people will call someone any nickname under the sun for no good reason until they suspect the other person is trans and suddenly it’s like “uhh idk i just call them [birthcertificate/name]

[noisilyscreechingsong]

“The what?”

Danny and Duke had been having a pretty okay day. Duke got a ridiculous packet to complete from his professor, and Danny tripped down the stairs in the library, causing a ruckus that got everyone’s attention.

So yea, everything was going well until they decided to push their luck and go to a new coffee shop a bit further away. It wasn’t the coffee shop itself, but the goons that came out of nowhere to kidnap Tim Drake-Wayne who was getting an order to go, which turned into a gang fight in the middle of the street.

Danny and Duke, along with Tim, ended up sheltered behind a car and missed the opportunity to bunker down inside the shop.

“Well, this isn’t what I planned today,” Tim comments.

“Same,” Danny agrees.

“Maybe we can wait it out?” Duke suggests.

The other two give a look that says that it was not going to happen.

“Rock, Paper, Scissors for peeking,” Danny says, already holding out his fist.

“Bet.”

They look at Duke.

Peer Pressure works and he groans with clear discomfort at the situation.

Duke loses. A bullet whizzes past his head.

“Nope! Nope. Not doing that again.”

Tim rolls his eyes at the dramatics, but with Danny still there he bit his tongue.

“What’d you see?”

Duke looks at Tim like he’s crazy.

“Lots of people with guns,” he answers hysterically.

“Need a hand?”

Red Hood had swung down from the nearest rooftop, hand gun in both hands. He pops off three shots before having to duck behind the car with them.

“Hood, what are you doing here? This isn’t Crime Alley,” Tim asks like they bumped into each other at the supermarket.

Hood shrugs, “Close enough.”

“Oh sweet, can I borrow that?” Danny randomly asks.

Before anyone can question what he was talking about he was already reaching out to take the handgun off of Hood’s thigh.

“Whoa-“

Danny turns to look over the car’s hood and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens.

The others pull him back quickly. He winces at the hard fall to his tailbone.

“Holy crap! Danny!”

“Dude, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Hey!” Danny interrupts their freak out. “It’s not my fault his gun is broke.”

“The safety is still on, idiot,” Hood tilts his head.

“The what?” Danny asks in genuine confusion.

The three brothers all pause and look at him.

“The safety? On the gun? So there isn’t a misfire?” Tim explains. He was stuck between shocked and judgmental.

“This is why people who don’t know how to shoot shouldn’t touch guns,” Hood says in frustration while reaching to take it away.

Danny pulls it back out of reach.

“I know how to shoot, thanks. My parent’s weapons just don’t have safety things. I’m not used to it,” he grumbles.

“What do you-“

But Danny was already finding the safety and flicking it off before trying again. This time he hits two goons, one in the shoulder and another in the leg.

The batboys glance at each other.

“So,” Hood tries to be casual, “what do your parents do?”

“They’re scientists,” Danny answers, mainly focused on shooting another person dressed in a mask, “but they make their own weapons.”

“Are they by any chance mad scientists? Or borderline rogues?” Duke asks as half a joke.

“Of course not,” Danny answers. Then he pauses to actually think about it. “I don’t think so.”

“Cool. That’s fine.”

**

After that Danny had a few more ‘meet and greet’s with the local vigilantes and saw some lingering shadows around their apartment. They had the weirdest questions about his family.

[leeloooonfire]

based on this post about Steve's internalized bi-phobia:

Steve has known for years.

And how could he not when Tommy's freckles come back tenfold each spring like a flower peaking it's head through the last layer of snow? Or when Matthew Carver's hair have a reddish brown tone that turns blond after they spent the last days before summer break practising outside and remind Steve of liquid gold? Or when he watches Star Wars and Harrison Ford, rugged and witty, comes into view and twists his stomach in knots? How could he not know?!

Steve knows he finds guys as attractive as girls, known for many, many years. But.

But he can't. Not when Tommy sneers at that boy in their literature class who likes flamboyant clothes and wants to be an actor on Broadway. Not when the people they meet in Indi who are like Robin and Eddie 'fully queer' and talk about people like Steve as if they're traitors and scams. Not when he reads the newspaper and is assaulted by Reagan and his folk preaching about the 'fag pandemic' or how his father nods in approval and mutters 'another sinner gone for good' when the news play on TV and they occasionally mention the crisis that kills people like Robin and Eddie and him.

Like him....

It doesn't matter how much he loves sleeping with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone or that he thinks he'd like to kiss Eddie and hold his hands and wake up beside him until they're old and wrinkly and complain about bad knees.

He is, but he cannot be a queer, half a fairy '50% like me, 50% like Eddie' as Robin jokes.

He will not be a bisexual, he can keep it inside, keep it hidden, buried deep inside him no matter how much it pains him. He can be the straight friend who goes to pride and bakes rainbow cakes and marries a woman even though his heart screams in an ear ringing cacophony, 'Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie!'

This is how his 20s go: loud and hurting and yearning and hiding and more noticeably being disgusted and ashamed of himself for simply being able to love men the way he can love women.

He's 29 when his wife, Becky, leaves him. It's not just Eddie and this shameful secret that weights heavy on their relationship, but the scars and all the other secrets he is unable to explain to her that drive Becky finally away - back to Boston. She leaves him alone in that tiny house they bought three years ago with their Saint Bernard puppy they lovingly named Bernadette.

He's 30 when he goes to a coffee meeting of the bisexual group meeting in Chicago, nearly turning the car multiple times, hands and knees sweaty with fear that they won't want him there. They do want him there, welcome him with open arms, and talk about things Steve knows all too well: 'When I fell in love with the first girl, I ran. I like men just fine, so I hid my crush. It's just easier, when your parents hate gays, when the world is shaming our community, when we're dying.' He finds a second home there, and learns - learns about queerness and bisexuality, about trans and gender non conforming people and physical attraction versus emotional attraction. He learns about his past and present and about his future, about their history and where they want to go, how they want to mold their world to fit people like them into it without the pain and the hiding.

Steve is 33 when he finally comes out to everyone dear to him. To the kids who aren't kids anymore and to Joyce and Hopper, and then his parents. this does not go well, but Steve doesn't want, doesn't need their validation anymore. He has his family, his friends, his support system who love him not regardless of his sexuality but because of it, love him because it's part of him. He comes out to Becky, too and that goes much better. they want to be friends, in the future. She's also met Gary who works the the NY Times and wants her to follow him into the big city. So Steve is looking forward how that goes, their tentative friendship.

He is 34 when Eddie comes back from his latest world tour and wants to take a break to rekindle with his uncle, to write new songs, to take a breather. It's only natural that Eddie moves into Steve's guest room and takes over his space on the couch where he cuddles Bernadette while Steve is in the kitchen and makes them grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner.

Its even more natural when their feet meet while watching a movie and they lean into each other in the kitchen, dawn barely there, while they wait for the coffee maker to finish.

Steve's 35 when Eddie finally kisses him and he kisses back. No hurt, no shame, no guilt gnawing on him, Steve finally allows himself to be with the person he truly wants - regardless of their gender.

[pucksandpower]

Black Magic

Charles Leclerc x witch!Reader

Summary: famously non-superstitious Charles takes drastic measures to break the Monaco curse

Charles rubs his temples as he stares at the phone, mentally rehearsing how he’s going to convince you to meet with him. He knows it’s a long shot — from what his mother told him, you’re not exactly eager to use your … abilities, as she called them. But he’s desperate at this point after years of the Monaco curse haunting him.

He takes a deep breath and taps the call button. It rings once, twice, three times before you finally pick up with a cautious “Hello?”

“Y/N? Hi, this is Charles Leclerc. I was given your number by my mother ...” His voice trails off as an awkward silence stretches between you.

Finally you respond, sounding confused. “Pascale? But why would she ...”

Charles rushes to explain. “She said you might be able to help me with … well, with breaking a curse of sorts. One that’s been plaguing me for years at the Monaco Grand Prix.” He pauses, cringing a little at how ridiculous he sounds saying it out loud.

There’s another long pause before you let out a soft sigh. “I should’ve known this would happen eventually. Listen, I only do that kind of thing for family emergencies these days. Curses and spellwork … it’s not something I take lightly.”

“I understand,” Charles says quickly. “But you have to know what the Monaco Grand Prix means to me. It’s my home race, the most meaningful one on the calendar for me. And yet, every single year something goes wrong — mechanical failures, crashes, bad strategy calls, communication issues. It’s like I’m cursed to never win it.”

You’re silent for a moment, seeming to consider his words. “I’m aware of the … situation,” you say finally. “But even if I did agree to look into it, breaking an actual curse isn’t something that happens overnight. It would take time and effort.”

“I’ll give you anything you need — time, money, whatever it takes,” Charles insists. “Just … please. I’m desperate here. My heart can’t keep taking these kinds of blows.”

Another pause, then a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. But you have to promise to take this seriously and listen to what I say. No skepticism, no brushing it off as some kind of joke. This is real to me.”

Relief floods through Charles. “Yes, absolutely, I promise. When can you come by? I’m staying in Monaco until the race next weekend.”

“I’ll need a little while to prepare,” you say slowly. “But … I can try to come by Tuesday? We’ll need to talk more about this in person.”

“Tuesday is perfect,” Charles agrees eagerly. “Truly, thank you for this. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for your time.”

You let out a small huff of laughter. “You keep your championship hopes, I’ll keep my soul. We’ll call it even.”

A bemused smile crosses Charles’ face at that. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yes. I’ll be there Tuesday.” You hang up abruptly, leaving Charles staring at the phone with a mixture of hope and trepidation. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into … but he’s willing to try anything at this point.

Two days later, you show up at Charles’ apartment looking rather apprehensive. He ushers you inside, eyes raking over you with obvious curiosity. You’re younger than he expected, maybe mid-twenties, with a casual air and slight frame that doesn’t exactly scream “all-powerful witch“.

Still, he tries to withhold any skepticism as promised. “Thanks for coming. Can I get you anything? Some wine, or ...”

You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks. I’d rather just get down to business if that’s okay.”

Charles nods and you both settle onto the couch, an anticipatory silence stretching out. Finally you clear your throat. “So. Tell me more about this … curse.”

And so he does, relaying in exhaustive detail the string of unlikely disasters that have befallen him at nearly every Monaco Grand Prix since he started in Formula 2. Crashes, mechanical failures, pit stops gone wrong, you name it … it’s like the racing gods have it out for him every year on his home streets.

You listen patiently, nodding along, your expression unreadable. When he finishes, you’re quiet for a long moment before speaking. “You know curses and superstitions have existed in motorsports for decades, right? It’s a high-adrenaline, high-risk environment … prime territory for that kind of thing to take root.”

Charles frowns. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

“I’m not saying that.” You shake your head. “I’m just … managing expectations here. Breaking an entrenched curse, if that’s even what this is, isn��t easy. It’ll take much more than a couple of days of spellwork.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “So you’re telling me you can’t help.”

“I didn’t say that.” You eye him levelly. “I’m saying this is going to require time, patience, and an open mind from you. If you’re willing to put in that kind of commitment, then I’ll do what I can. But you have to go into this knowing it might not work.”

Charles is silent for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally he nods. “Okay. You’re right, I’ll stop being skeptical and doubting this. I’m ready to fully commit, whatever that takes.”

A small smile flits across your face and you nod. “Alright then. I’ll need to gather some supplies first, do you have anything personal I can use? Something meaningful, something that represents your driving?”

Charles scrambles up to rummage through his drawers, finally emerging with a battered red fireproof racing glove, handing it over to you. “Will this work? My godfather gave it to me when he first started teaching me to kart.”

You take it with a nod, turning it over in your hands. “It’s perfect. I’ll need to attune it and prepare a few … components.” You glance up at him. “This may take me a day or two. But after that, I can try to get a sense of what we’re dealing with.”

He nods, feeling that flicker of hope rekindle in his chest. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything else.”

You rise, slipping the glove into your bag. “I will. And Charles?” You hesitate, looking almost nervous for the first time since you arrived. “I know we’ve only just met, but … I want you to understand how serious I’m taking this. Messing with forces like curses … it’s not something I do lightly. If I can’t help in the end, it’s not for lack of trying, okay?”

Something about your sincere tone puts Charles at ease and he nods. “I know. Thank you for this … really.”

A shy smile ghosts across your lips before you slip out, leaving Charles alone with his doubts and hopes alike. Over the next couple of days, he tries to distract himself with race prep and strategy meetings, but his mind keeps drifting back to you and your mysterious preparations. He’s not sure whether to feel hopeful or just plain foolish for entertaining all of this curse nonsense.

Finally, Thursday afternoon rolls around and you arrive once more at his door, looking oddly serene. You accept his offered glass of wine this time as you settle on the couch, clutching the battered racing glove and a few other strange items.

“Okay,” you say, taking a fortifying breath. “I’ve done what I can to attune myself to your energy and prepare. I should be able to at least get a sense now of what we’re dealing with.”

Charles nods, feeling an anxious flutter in his chest as you close your eyes, seeming to slip into some kind of trance-like state. The seconds tick by, tension building in the air around you. Just when he’s about to break the silence, your eyes fly open with a gasp.

“Wow,” you breathe out, looking utterly stunned. “This is … wow.”

“What?” Charles prods urgently. “What did you see?”

You shake your head, almost looking scared now. “I’ve never encountered anything like this. The sheer scale, the power … Charles, this isn’t just some simple bad luck curse. This is dark, powerful magic rooted over years and years. Maybe even generations.”

A leaden feeling sinks into the pit of Charles’ stomach at your ominous words. “So you’re saying you can’t break it?”

“I didn’t say that.” You draw in a steadying breath. “But it’s not going to be easy. Or quick. This is going to take serious ritual work over an extended period of time. I’ll need more supplies, maybe some help from others. It’s … a huge undertaking.”

You look up at Charles, expression grave. “But I think I can do it. If you’re willing to fully commit and see this through, no matter how long it takes or what I need from you, then I’ll put everything I have into breaking this curse.”

Charles stares at you for a long moment, feeling the weight of what you’re saying. This is so much bigger than he ever imagined. Part of him wants to run from the sheer enormity of it all.

But then he pictures it — finally winning his home race after all these years, the crowd roaring as he drinks in the euphoric feeling. No more bad luck, no more disasters clouding his joy. Just pure triumph.

His jaw sets in determination as he meets your eyes. “Whatever it takes. I’m in.”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “Okay then. We’ll get started right away. This may get … intense at times. But I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

“Thank you,” Charles says fervently. “Truly, thank you for taking this on.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you reply, something sparking in your eyes. “We’ve got work to do.”

And just like that, you dive into preparation mode — making lists, sending messages, gathering spell ingredients and components that have Charles raising his eyebrows more than once. He tries to follow along as best he can, but it’s like a foreign language to him.

After a while, he can’t help but ask. “So … did you always know you could do this kind of thing? The witchcraft, I mean?”

You pause, considering his question. “It’s a family tradition, passed down. My grandmother started teaching me from a very young age. But I’ll be honest … I never fully embraced it until recently.”

Charles feels himself grow curious. “What changed your mind?”

A strange look crosses your face and you’re quiet for a moment before replying. “My grandmother was ill. The doctors had … given up, more or less. So in desperation, I tried to help the only way I knew how. And it … worked, somehow. After that, it was hard to keep denying what I could do.”

“Wow,” Charles says softly. “That’s amazing. I can’t even imagine ...”

You shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. “It’s a lot, I know. Probably hard to wrap your head around. Which is why I appreciate you being so open-minded about this.”

Charles gives you a crooked smile. “Well, I’m relying on you here. I figure I should at least return the favor and be open-minded.”

A surprising laugh escapes you and you shake your head in amusement. “You’ve got a point there.”

A surprisingly comfortable silence lapses between you, broken only when you glance at your watch. “Alright, enough waiting around. We should get back to work if we want to be ready before race day.”

Charles feels nervous anticipation flutter in his chest again. “You really think we can pull this off that quickly?”

“We have to try,” you reply, already focused and in work mode once more. “Just be prepared … this isn’t going to be easy for either of us.”

Charles swallows hard and nods. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Over the next several days, Charles is swept up in a whirlwind of strange rituals and practices — chanting, incantations, symbolic offerings, things he never could’ve imagined before this week. You lead him through it all with a calm patience, guiding him every step of the way.

It’s completely draining, leaving him wrung out and exhausted every night … but he can’t deny the noticeable shift he feels with each passing day too. It’s almost like a weight, a cloud of dread he’s carried for years, is slowly dissipating. He tries not to get his hopes up, but it’s hard … especially with the way your face glows with quiet pride whenever your eyes meet his.

Finally, the night before the race arrives. You’ve worked practically around the clock except for when Charles had to leave for free practice and qualifying, both of you barely sleeping or eating as you poured everything into breaking the curse.

As the sun sets over Monaco’s famed harbors and hills, you finally seem to pause, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I think … I think that’s everything we can do for now.”

Charles stares at you with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “You mean … it’s done? The curse is broken?”

You exhale slowly, looking suddenly drained but at peace. “As much as it can be, at least. The groundwork is laid, the ritual completed. But actually severing that kind of ancient tie ...” You shake your head. “We’ll have to see what happens tomorrow. I’ve done everything I can.”

Relief and gratitude wash over Charles as he reaches out to grasp your hand impulsively. “Thank you,” he says fervently. “For all of this … I can’t even begin to express how much it means.”

You seem surprised by his emotional outburst for a moment before squeezing his hand back gently. “You’re very welcome, Charles. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure I had it in me at first. But you put so much faith in me. That meant everything.”

He holds your gaze, feeling an unexpected sense of connection pass between you. So much has happened in such a short span of time — he came to you a skeptic, but now he feels like he’s been through a transformative experience. And you … you’ve put your entire being into helping him, far beyond any reasonable expectation.

The air almost seems to crackle with tension as you both search each other’s eyes. Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, you start leaning towards each other infinitesimally. Charles’ heart kicks up a staccato rhythm as your faces inch closer together ...

Until finally, your lips meet in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It’s achingly gentle and sweet, at odds with the intensity thrumming underneath. When you finally part, Charles feels almost dazed, his heart pounding.

“Wow,” he breathes out, unable to tear his eyes away from yours. “That was ...”

“Yeah,” you murmur back, looking equally affected. “It was.”

A silence stretches out as you simply gaze at each other. So much has passed between you in these short days — an entire lifetime’s worth of intimacy and connection. It’s overwhelming and exciting all at once.

Finally, Charles seems to shake himself out of the dazed reverie. Clearing his throat, he says gruffly, “Anyway, um … thank you again. I should probably try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

“Right, of course,” you respond quickly, flushing slightly. “The race. Yes, that’s … probably a good idea.”

An awkward pause hangs in the air before Charles blurts out, “You’ll be there though, right? At the race, I mean? As my guest?”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He returns your smile, feeling lighter than he has in years. “Okay, good. That’s really good.”

With that, and one last lingering look, you gather your things and slip out, leaving Charles alone with his whirling thoughts and cautiously rising hope. He has no idea what tomorrow will bring — triumph or despair. But for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s not facing it alone.

As he climbs into bed that night, his mind keeps drifting back to that unexpected, electric kiss and the connection you seemed to share, if only for a moment. He can’t stop replaying it, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin ...

With a groan, Charles rolls over, trying in vain to shut off his thoughts. He needs to rest. Tomorrow is everything he’s been working towards for years — his best hope at finally ending the Monaco curse. And you’ll be there, your faith and magic bound to his dream.

Finally, Charles manages to drift into a restless sleep, his unconscious mind swirling with visions of chequered flags and your smiling face in the crowd. Whatever happens, he knows nothing will ever be the same after tomorrow.

***

The next morning dawns bright and clear, a perfect Monaco day. As Charles gets ready to head to the circuit, he can’t shake the anxious flutter in his chest.

This is it. His moment of truth.

Just before he’s about to leave, a soft knock comes at the door. When he opens it, you’re standing there looking almost as nervous as he feels.

“Hey,” you say with a small smile. “Thought I’d come wish you luck in person. And … give you one last thing for the race.”

You hold out a small silk pouch which Charles takes curiously. Opening it up, he pulls out the same battered racing glove he’d given you days ago, now embroidered with strange runic symbols.

“I imbued it with every protection ritual and good luck charm I could think of,” you explain. “As an extra boost on top of the work we’ve already done. Maybe it’ll help settle those pre-race jitters too.”

Charles feels a wave of affection crest over him as he looks at the glove, then back up at you. “You’re incredible, you know that?” He says softly. “Truly, I don’t know how to thank you enough for everything.”

You duck your head shyly, but he can see the pleased flush on your cheeks. “You don’t need to thank me. Just go out there and get that win you’ve been waiting for, okay?”

“I will,” Charles promises fervently. He pauses, then seems to make a split-second decision, stepping forward to cup your face in his hands. “And when I do … I’m taking you out for the biggest celebration Monaco has ever seen.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but you give a breathless little nod. “It’s a date then.”

The corner of Charles’ mouth quirks up. “It’s a date,” he echoes, letting his thumb brush over your cheekbone lingeringly before forcing himself to step back. “I should get going. But I’ll see you out there later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you confirm, looking almost as flustered as he suddenly feels. “Good luck, Charles.”

He shoots you one last, blazing look before tearing himself away, hurrying out to his waiting car. The entire drive to the circuit, his heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He can’t decide if it’s just pre-race adrenaline or something more … something sparked by you and that searing, promising look you gave him.

By the time he arrives, gets into his race suit and fireproofs, and settles into the cramped cockpit of his Ferrari, Charles is wound up like a tightly-coiled spring. His eyes keep drifting over to the embroidered glove still clutched in his hand, feeling the weight of everything it represents — your devotion, your magic, and the hope of finally breaking free from years of heartbreak.

As the cars are wheeled out onto the grid and the pre-race festivities begin, Charles scans the garage until his eyes finally land on you. You’re standing with a perfect viewpoint, eyes already locked on him, and when you catch his gaze you mouth “Good luck“ with an encouraging smile.

A determination like he’s never felt before surges through Charles’ veins. He’s going to win this race, not just for himself but for you too after everything you’ve sacrificed. Giving a firm nod, he slips the glove beneath his suit and grips the steering wheel tightly, watching the lights flick from red.

And as they finally go green and the cars roar away, Charles leans into the first turn in pure focus and exhilaration. For once, his mind is clear of any doubt or dread about the Monaco curse. He can only think about racing, about achieving his dream ...

And afterwards, celebrating that dream coming true with you.

***

As the deliriously happy celebrations continue around him at Monza, Charles can barely catch his breath. The euphoria of a hard-fought victory is still pulsing through his veins, that cherished feeling never getting old no matter how many times he experiences it.

He’s in the middle of accepting congratulations from his mechanics when he sees a Sky Sports reporter, making a beeline for him with her microphone in hand. Trying to tamp down his giddy smile slightly, he turns to face her.

“Charles! Huge congratulations on another amazing win today,” the reporter gushes as soon as she reaches him. “You’re really hitting your stride this season, what a comeback from the early struggles.”

“Thank you. Yes, the team has been doing incredible work to get me a car capable of winning,” Charles replies graciously. “I’m just thrilled to be able to deliver for them.”

“And for the fans too, who have been utterly captivated watching this gripping title battle unfold,” she continues. “Speaking of which, I have to ask — the viewers have been flooding us with one question in particular recently. What’s the story behind those little symbols that keep popping up on your race suit collar? Some kind of good luck charms maybe?”

At the mention of the embroidered symbols, Charles feels his lips quirking up into a small, unconscious smile. He should have known someone would eventually ask about them — the fans on social media have certainly been speculating endlessly.

“Ah, you spotted those?” He says lightly. “Well, it’s um … it’s actually something my girlfriend does for me before every race weekend.”

The reporter’s eyes widen with obvious interest, scenting a prime bit of gossip. “Your girlfriend? We had no idea you were dating someone, Charles! Do tell us more.”

Charles lets out a slightly self-conscious chuckle, feeling the tips of his ears going pink. He’s intensely private about his personal life, preferring to keep you out of the spotlight as much as possible. But the story behind the symbols is too meaningful to brush off entirely.

“Yes, well my girlfriend prefers to stay out of the public eye,” he explains carefully. “Let’s just say she comes from a rather … unique background and heritage. She has certain talents and practices that are very important to her.”

The reporter blinks at him in obvious confusion. “Wait, is she some kind of … psychic or something?”

“Not exactly,” Charles demurs, fighting back an amused grin at the mental image. “More like … well, I suppose you could call her a witch, of sorts.”

A shocked silence falls over the surrounding reporters who have tuned into their exchange. For a long beat, no one seems to know how to react to such an unexpected revelation. Charles doesn’t think he’s ever seen the media look so bemused before.

Finally, the reporter seems to find her voice again. “A … witch?” She repeats slowly. “As in, like, cauldrons and broomsticks and the whole bit?”

Charles lets out a full laugh at that. “Well, not quite like that, no. But she does practice certain … rituals and magics, let’s say. Most of which, I’ll admit, still seems completely mad to me.”

The reporter’s expression is one of fascination now as she leans in closer with her microphone. “And she does these rituals and … magics ... for you? Before races?”

“Exactly,” Charles confirms with a nod. “She adds protective symbols and charms onto things like my race suit, my helmet, sometimes other items depending on the ritual. It’s her way of looking out for me, of sending some extra luck and security my way on race weekends.”

He pauses, his smile softening unconsciously as he thinks about you. “I’ll be honest, I was pretty skeptical of it all at first. The whole concept of witchcraft and curses seemed ... well, rather far-fetched, you know? But she’s been so devoted to her practices, so sincere in her beliefs about the positive energies she wants to send my way … how could I not start to believe in it too?”

The media seems to be hanging on his every word now, caught up in this bizarre but undeniably romantic tale. The reporter lets out a wistful sigh. “Well, it’s clearly been working like a charm so far this season! Maybe the rest of the grid had better start looking into getting their own race day witches on board.”

A ripple of laughter spreads through the group at that as Charles shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, I can see that becoming very popular around the paddock.”

“So does she come to all the races then, your witch girlfriend?” Another reporter pipes up curiously. “Is she wandering around doing spellwork in the backrooms?”

“Oh, no no, nothing like that,” Charles chuckles. “She prefers to keep things … subtle, let’s say. Just the little symbols and charms. Though she is here today actually.”

The reporter’s eyes light up like she’s just struck journalistic gold. “She is? And does she get to celebrate with you after wins like this?”

A soft, almost shy smile plays across Charles’ lips as he nods. “Yes, whenever her schedule allows she tries to come to the races. And we’ll definitely be celebrating together tonight, just us.”

He gets a slightly far-off look in his eyes, seeming to get lost in the thought for a moment. The reporters watching on collectively hold their breaths, waiting for him to divulge more juicy details about this mysterious girlfriend.

Finally, Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat. “But anyway, I should really get back to the team to share this incredible day with them properly.”

The reporter makes one last attempt. “Oh, go on, just give us her name at least? Enquiring minds want to know about this charming race day witch of yours!”

Charles throws her an apologetic look. “You know I have to protect her privacy. All I can say is … she’s pretty remarkable. And she’ll probably hex me if I start giving out too many details about her!”

Laughs and groans of disappointment rise up from the reporters at being denied the full scoop. But they know better than to push Charles too far. With some final shouted congratulations, they gradually disperse, no doubt rushing off to publish their articles about the shocking revelation of Charles Leclerc’s witchy girlfriend.

As the small crowd clears out, Charles feels a light touch on his elbow and turns to find you standing there, eyes sparkling with amusement and fondness.

“Well, you’ve certainly given the paddock something to gossip about now,” you tease lightly. “A charming race day witch, am I?”

Charles makes a show of rolling his eyes, even as his cheeks flush a bit at your teasing. “What was I supposed to tell them? You know how much I hate discussing our personal lives with the media.”

“I know, I know.” You rise on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I thought it was … sweet, actually. How you talked about my practices.”

Charles’ expression softens as he gazes down at you. Ever since that electric evening in Monaco when you first worked your magic on the infamous curse (and him), your relationship has deepened into something truly beautiful. At first, he admits he was still somewhat skeptical of the mystical rituals and protective charms you claimed to do for him.

But race after race, as the victories kept mounting with no traces of bad luck or mishaps, he’s become nearly as devoted a believer as you. And it goes far beyond just race day superstitions now. Seeing the depth of your spirituality, your connection to unseen mystical forces, has opened his eyes in so many ways.

He pulls you flush against him, cupping your face tenderly as he murmurs, “I meant every word. What you do … it means everything to me, you know that right? Whether the magic is real or not, your rituals give me a sense of peace and security I’ve never felt before.”

You gaze up at him with those captivating eyes that never fail to make his heart stutter. “I know. And that’s why I’ll never stop doing them for you. You make me feel … connected. Vital. Like my gifts can actually make a positive impact, instead of being some weird family quirk.”

Charles lets his thumb gently trace the delicate line of your cheekbone, drinking in every detail of your beloved face. “They do make an impact, mon cœur. Probably more than either of us can comprehend.”

He draws you into a lingering kiss, one that sends delicious sparks of heat ricocheting through his body. When you finally break apart, you’re both smiling and slightly flushed.

“Mmm, I should really start charging the team for services rendered, if that’s the payment plan,” you joke breathlessly.

Charles arches one eyebrow at you. “Trust me, they would go broke in a week trying to keep up.”

You let out a full laugh at that, the musical sound making his heart swell. He loves this — the moments of playful intimacy and banter, feeling so incredibly grounded and content with you. Before you came into his life, such tender domesticity always seemed like an impossible dream given his lifestyle.

Pulling you close once more, he nuzzles into the soft skin of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. “Let’s go home,” he murmurs huskily. “I have a victory to properly celebrate … and I require your particular skills again tonight.”

You shiver slightly in his arms, drawing back just enough to fix him with a heated look. “My skills are always at your service. Shall we summon a portal or ...”

He huffs out a laugh at your playful tone, secretly loving when you tease him about the more fanciful aspects of witchcraft. “Why don’t we just take the car for now? No need to alarm the locals by apparating in the middle of the paddock.”

Chuckling, you lean up to steal one more lingering kiss before murmuring, “Deal. Now let’s get out of here before that reporter comes sniffing around for more gossip.”

Taking his hand, you start leading him away from the crowded pit lane and back toward the nearby motorhomes. With every step, Charles can feel the thrum of excitement building in his veins, fueled by much more than just the adrenaline of his race win.

There’s a steady warmth pulsing deep within him now, a sense of gratitude and contentment that suffuses his very soul. Ever since that fateful day in Monaco when he let you into his life, everything has shifted into vibrant new focus.

He’s never been superstitious, not really — he prides himself on being practical, logical, leaving little room for spiritual or religious beliefs. And yet … with you, a whole unseen mystical world has opened up to him in the most extraordinary way. Even if he still doesn’t fully understand the intricacies of your rituals and practices, he knows with certainty how they make him feel.

Protected. Centered. Empowered.

Loved, more deeply than he’s ever experienced.

As you make your way hand-in-hand through the chaos of post-race celebrations, trading giddy grins and teasing jokes, Charles feels it all shining outward from his very core — past the fame, the accomplishments, the never-ending pressures of being an elite athlete. With you by his side, he’s found a serenity and sense of self far beyond what any championship could provide.

So tonight, as you cuddle together and let your energies flow over him in that uniquely intimate way, he’ll pour every ounce of devotion and love he feels right back into you. Because in the end, that’s the most powerful force of all — one that transcends even the wildest of your spells and charms.

As long as you two are bound together on this path, no force in the universe could ever curse him again.

[fluideli123]

I've watched the DP&W movie twice in theaters and three plus times on a pirated site, and I wanted to grant my analysis on Wade and Logan's relationship that not only respects Vanessa--because Vanessa was literally Wade's Soulmate until shit hit the fan and you can pry that fact from my cold dead hands. But also explains how Logan and Wade actually represent a a-spec experience and relationship that I feel like no one has really gotten into. Am I saying they're a-spec? No. But that doesn't mean queer relationships that are fairly normal in a-spec spaces doesn't mean they don't exist outside of them as well.

First of all, the only two reasons I believe Vanessa and Wade broke up was 1) Wade went back in time to save Vanessa and he told her after his usual routine of jokes and lies and 2) Wade finally believed he could be something more, a hero, only to be turned down by the people who are known for their heroism, leaving him lost.

I genuinely believe Vanessa had a hard time taking in that knowledge, but knowing Wade and everything they've been through she would get through that like the badass she is and work through it using her plans A-Z, as she always does. But I think to really stop that woman from continuing to start a family with Wade like she wanted to in Deadpool 2, is if Wade was no longer within the right mindset to do so.

Deadpool 1 introduced Wade as someone who believed he was a bad guy who got paid to fuck up worse guys, he refused the term hero, and the moment he even tried to reach for something selfless. An act that would hopefully spare Vanessa from the pain of cancer, it all got fucked up and he got turned into a monster. Someone he deemed even lesser than he was before. So far gone and completely removed from what he was loved for (his looks and personality, but how could his personality stand alone when he looked so ugly? As ugly as he always felt on the inside?)

So he turned to what he's always known: Tracking people down and making them pay. In his mind this only confirms that he's a monster, he isn't deserving of Vanessa, of anyone. Which is why he finds comfort in Blind Al, a woman who will only have to deal with his personality and not be able to see how ugly he actually is. Symbolism for showing only half of himself and not him in his entirety (not that he can hide it from her, she's too wise, knowledgeable, caring, and knows Wade better than he knows himself at this point.)

Eventually, he finishes his hunt and is still loved despite what had transpired. Vanessa still chose him, still loved him. So maybe despite how ugly he is, he can still be loved. This grounded him, solidified his self worth, have him such stability that he had a thriving relationship with Vanessa that they were SO ready to start a family, aspired to live that dream. Another act of selfishness. Only to, once again, be met by pain. Get his dream taken away, once again resorting to what he knows: revenge.

Wade wants to be a hero? He gets forcefully mutated. Wade wants a family? Vanessa gets killed. Both are immediately solved by death, but that self-loathing and sickening hatred towards himself do nothing to cure that same confirmation he had once thought he got over: That he wasn't a monster, he could be loved, be something else.

So of course Vanessa is who, even in death, looks him in the eyes and tells him he cares, he has always cared. He cares so deeply about the people in his life he meets who unconditionally love him for him as time passes, despite all his flaws.

Wade wants to be a hero? Colossus believes he can be. Wade wants to save the 13-year-old abused kid? Vanessa knows he can. He saves lives by sacrificing himself. He scarified his comfort to show Vanessa the full truth of his ugliness, he sacrificed his life for Russel to give him a better life. Maybe he isn't a complete monster, maybe he can believe again. He can be selfish, he can be reckless. So he goes back and saves more people. Heroes do that. They save the people they love. You don't hold the whole world on your shoulders, no, like Miles learned in ATSV you think of one person of the few people you want to fight against the world to protect. And he did just that.

With Vanessa back and a big family he can finally chase after what he wasn't meant for. Because it's only happened twice, it wouldn't happen again-

Rejection. He can't be a hero because people don't need him. He is the needy one, the one who wants to be needed, needs to be wanted. So, it's the crash. The final straw. He breaks. He breaks so hard because what the fuck is the point to trying if every time he is met with failure? Rejection? Pain? Loss? He becomes so stuck in figuring this all out he neglects his relationship with Vanessa, causing issues. They go separate ways, but still so close, because you don't just lose your best friend like that, even if you're no longer partners. They're always meant to be together one way or another.

So you have this broken man who is searching for purpose, years later still harboring this tiny flicker of hope that he can be greater. He can be great. He can be a hero.

His world is in trouble, he doesn't think twice saving it. He accepts he isn't perfect for this, not like all the big guys back in Avengers headquarters, but he can't let his loved ones die because of someone he's had a vendetta against the last two movies.

He literally fights and fights and fights to find someone to help him, Wade can't save who he loves he has to find someone else you can, anyone else.

Than a broken, desperate man walks into a bar to see another broken man who has since long given up.

The thing about Logan and Wade is that they don't need words. Wade blew himself up in order to die in the second movie, Logan drinks himself away, both knowing they can't die no matter how much they want to. How much they believe they deserve it.

So Wade sees a Wolverine who has potential, who hasn't hurt him (unlike the others, he gets hurt so much, guys) and places his faith in him without hesitation. From that moment on he has never truly doubted Logan's abilities nor his heroism, because he knew his Logan and if his world was anchored by a Logan than all Logan's are built with something he isn't. They're made to be heroes, made to be important. Yeah, they fight, but I strongly believe that's how two broken men say everything words can't possibly describe.

I mean what words could describe the way they go all out on each other, knowing the other can't die, the way Wade looks up at him, not wanting to regrow his entire body because he needs to save his world and understands Logan and has to decide to say something that'll convince him to help. Wade doesn't know if stopping the machine will completely save his world or if a new Logan will patch it up too, it's his own educated wish he passes onto Logan. Because just like Russel, he cares. He understands. He wants to help.

It's that faith, hope, and resistance and face of humor despite it all that causes Logan to stick by that dumb asses side. He lost everything, he is seeing someone like himself before he stumbled home drunk from the bar to find everyone dead. Someone who is capable of doing something he wasn't able to. He wants to help, more and more for Wade and less himself, a silent journey of healing following Wades steps everywhere they stumble into.

Because Logan was just drunk at a bar before being told he was needed to save a world, told he was the worst before being offered help anyone, getting praised over his capabilities, and than told again and again how he is able to be someone he never thought he could be. Much like Wade was and is.

Logan sees it. Wade most likely ignores it, much like anything else. He isn't very open with anyone other than Vanessa as we've learned.

So just- of course Wolverine is the honest one, of course he hits low, he sees himself and Wade and wants to hurt him. Wade wants to hurt him back, but only when he's directly attacked by his words and threats, a way of not taking shit. Logan took shit from the world and than didn't from Wade and his emotional rollercoster right. And I think without whatever happened in that Honda Odyssey things wouldn't have been the same. They needed that fight, that release, that hatred from themselves to burst into the form of someone else who could take it just as much as the other could.

Logan listens to Wade's home at the borderlands. Logan is given kindness and tough love. Logan joins. Logan begins to understand how most linger by Wade's side despite everything. He sees why. He's a force, he doesn't give up, he doesn't quit, not for others. It grants strength, though imperfect and messy.

Logan believes Wade deserves better. So he plans on sacrificing himself only for Wade to once again show how much of a Hero he wants to be and could be. Only for those two idiots to hold hands to madona and come to a mutual understanding and comfort that has Wade making room for Logan in his and Al's apartment.

And there is something so inherently a-spec about not being explicitly sexual with each other, having an understanding that goes beyond direct words and full truths. They they can hurt one another and it feels so good, so wanted and cherished. How they support one another by being fucked up and sloppy. They're wrecks and they help the other heal, do what they're too afraid to do.

What is more a-spec than two people looking at each other with adoration and trust? To be two people who cannot be placed within a single both because their relationship and meaning to one another isn't so neatly cut and within expectations? To love in a way that blood and standing side by side is a comfort? A steadying point in which everything becomes clearer with time?

They make me so fucking sick, they make me so FUCKING SICK.

[tiredcowboyy]

The treasures of my future

I cant stop thinking ab the idea of merlin one day post s5, where they all survived, becoming really secretive and protective of his room and not telling anyone at all whats inside. Not even gaius. He even gets a lock installed and whenever anybody asks he brushes it off with jokes like “its to stop arthur from finding me” or smth.

he also unrelatedly really hates any talk of destiny, going to war, and anytime morgana mentions her fear of her magic turning her merlin slightly freaks out.

That is until one day gaius manages to catch merlin off guard while hes rushing between the main room and his bedroom and walks in.

Only to see a whole bunch of stuff that hes never seen before.

Merlin freaks out, tries to play it off as some weird experiments and stuff hes been collecting but gaius can feel it, somethings different about these items, not wrong but not right. Not really magic either.

It takes 3 weeks of gaius pestering him before merlin breaks and explains to him that he IS A TIME TRAVELER. after the battle of camlan as we know it that lead to arthurs death, merlin did wait, he really did, but in the year 2020 when arthur didnt return for yet another global crisis, merlin broke and did spell upon spell until he figured out how throw himself back in time.

And holy shit did it work well. He managed to come back just at the perfect time to change everything that needed to be done to assure that everyone lives happily and safely, and when he realises hes done it, he decides to stay in this time. See his friends and family grow old as they should have. See arthur rule as he should have. Live the life he has been craving to go back to for centuries now.

Until a month in he realises how old everything is. Sure merlin can survive without his phone and stuff but theres a few things he really misses. Like his slippers, his potato peeler, his favourite hoodie, and especially his favourite tea flavours.

So once in a while he allowed himself to go back to the modern day and bring one thing back. He started with a scented candle, because candles exist in camelot and having one here shouldn’t mess up time right? Then moved onto a herbal tea that he knows if he traveled past the boarders he may be able to find similar ingredients.

Then he brings a new release of his favourite book series because he cant help it and realises small things like that dont change time.

And so thats what he’s been hiding away in his room, all of his modern day stuff. Ranging from trinkets hes collected over his life to his favourite scarf to his stuffed lion that he won at a fair in the 80s. He doesn’t go back often, only when his tea runs out or he really needs something, he tries to limit it he really does.

It takes gaius another 4 weeks to wrap his head around it all. Another 2 weeks after that to touch merlins stuffed lion thinking it may attack him at any moment.

He makes gaius promise to not tell a soul, offering him tea bags as payment. They have a nice system from then on, gaius would try a new flavour of tea everytime merlin returned, once in a while he would also bring a modern day snack (gaius yelled when he first tried salt and vinegar crisps).

A yell which led to leon finding out. And so a cycle began.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Implied Sexual Content; Suggestive Situations; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: Your relationship with Jake "Hangman" Seresin wasn't easily defined. But with some unexpected news, you might have to put a label on it soon.

Series Master List

Master List

Growing up with an overprotective older brother and an overprotective father figure, you learned how to be sneaky from a rather young age. It just was not worth the shovel talk every single time that you wanted to go out on a date. You decided a long time ago that what Bradley and Mav didn’t know wouldn’t kill them. 

And in your current predicament, what they didn’t know wouldn’t kill Jake either. 

“Goddamn, Cow Girl,” Jake breathed out with a throaty laugh as he trailed his hand up and down your back. “What a ride.”

“You say that like you did any of the work,” you huffed, picking your head up from his chest. Narrowing your eyes at him playfully, you sat up further and shook your head as Jake’s eye’s immediately dropped to your breasts. “Pillow Princess.”

“I’ll make it up to you next time,” Jake replied with that usual cocky shit-eating grin. Squeezing your hips, he locked eyes with you once again. “A repeat of that weekend up at that beach house with that private balcony.” Sitting up himself, Jake leaned in closer so that your noses brushed. “I had to carry you inside after that, if I remember correctly.”

“You remember everything that boosts your own ego,” you replied, trying to slide off of him. Jake, however, instantly reached out and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back to his side. Letting out a semi-annoyed laugh, you looked back at him over your shoulder. “Jake, I have to go.”

“They can figure it out without you.”

“They can’t fit my dress to me without me.”

“They’ll figure it out.” Rolling over to try and keep you in his bed for another hour, Jake hovered over you and stared down at your face, like he was trying to memorize it. “Stay.”

“Oh, so now you want to be on top?” you joked, though Jake wasn’t laughing. Sending him a softer look, you sighed. “I have to go. I’m the maid of honor. And Nat will kill the both of us if I’m late for this. You know that.”

“She’s honestly turning into a bridezilla,” Jake stated, causing you to shoot him a dirty look. 

“Maybe because the best man keeps fucking up all of her plans.”

“I’m just trying to improve them,” Jake drawled, earning an eye roll from you. 

“Right. Well, I need to go before you ‘improve’ Nat’s wedding by taking out her maid of honor.”

Rolling out from underneath Jake, you stood up from his bed and headed into the bathroom. Cleaning yourself up quickly and managing to brush your hair down, you walked over to where your clothes were scattered on the ground of Jake’s bedroom. 

“I can’t wait until this wedding is over,” Jake sighed, watching reluctantly as you put your clothes on. “Everyone’s so stressed about it. Javy’s been working on his vows for weeks and he’s gotten one word written.”

“What word?”

“Nat,” Jake explained, causing you to laugh. 

“Poor Javy,” you laughed, buttoning up your shirt. Walking back to where Jake was sitting on the edge of his bed, you leaned down so that you were eye level with him with a soft smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tonight?” Jake tried to convince you.

“I’ll text you when I’m done,” you offered, earning a kiss from Jake. “It could be a while though.”

“I’m a patient man,” Jake replied as you headed out of his bedroom. 

“We both know that’s a lie.”

~~~~~

Your sister-in-law offered to go first for her fitting, leaving you and Phoenix on the couch at the back of the dress shop. Phoenix waited until the door shut to the fitting room before turning to you with a knowing look.

“You were with Bagman, weren’t you?” 

“Emma is right there,” you shushed Phoenix, glancing over at your sister-in-law’s fitting room. “And the last thing that I need is my brother finding out.”

“Emma’s not a snitch,” Phoenix dismissed, still wearing that knowing look. “And besides, it’s not like the two of you are subtle.” Phoenix shook her head and glanced around the room. “I’m still scarred from seeing that shit.”

“And I’ve apologized at least fifteen times.”

“He hasn’t,” Phoenix muttered back. 

“He’s just an exhibitionist,” you mumbled, waving your hand to the side. 

“He’s going to get the two of you caught by someone who’s not going to react as well as Javy and I did,” Phoenix stated, causing you to wince and subconsciously run a hand through your hair to make sure that it didn’t look too much like sex hair. “Did you at least talk to him about defining whatever the hell it is you two have going on?”

“Well . . .” Phoenix groaned on your behalf, causing you to jitter nervously. “What? What’s wrong with just having fun?”

“Let me ask you one question,” Phoenix stated, turning to face you fully. “If Hangman hooked up with another woman, would you be upset?” Before you could even verbally respond, your face gave away your answer. “Exactly. So, you need to have that talk. For your own sanity.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed, rubbing your face. “I’ll talk to him. After your wedding. Because I am absolutely focused on your wedding from now until you leave for your honeymoon.”

“I appreciate that,” Phoenix replied calmly with a small smile. “But just be careful with Hangman, okay? He doesn’t exactly have the best reputation with committed relationships. Or any kind of relationship, really.” 

“Can’t people change?” you suggested, causing Phoenix to shrug her shoulders. 

“If they want to, I guess.”

Before you could respond, Emma walked out of the changing room, all done with her fitting. The seamstress walked off with Emma’s dress in hand to put it away and grab yours as Emma walked over to where you and Phoenix were sitting. 

“You alright?” Emma asked you. “You look stressed.”

“I’m fine,” you assured your sister-in-law with a small smile.“How’s the house coming? Did Bradley finally take the stick out of his ass about it?”

“It took some back and forth but they agreed to fix the plumbing problems and the air conditioner and we should all set to close and finally move in sometime next month. And I really hope that it works out. I feel so bad taking over Mav’s house,” Emma stated, sitting down on your other side. 

“Mav doesn’t mind. He’d let you move in permanently if it was what you wanted.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that Bradley wouldn’t go for that,” Emma laughed, probably picturing your brother’s annoyed face. “He said that he feels like a teenager again.”

“Well, he acts like one half the time anyways,” you joked, wearing that classic little sister smirk.

“And he has to make sure that Mav is at least a five mile radius away before he touches me. Something about a traumatic experience.” 

“Oh, yeah, he got caught by Mav with his high school girlfriend when they were sixteen because he’s an idiot and mixed up the days that Mav was supposed to be working late,” you explained, remembering how Bradley wouldn’t even look at Mav for a week after that. “And she dumped him too, I think, because she was too embarrassed.” 

“How the hell have you survived the three months then?” Phoenix asked, doing the math. 

“We’ve taken a lot of long car rides,” Emma replied with a smirk, causing you to gag. 

“Oh, my fucking—I’m leaving,” you stated, getting up from the couch. “Remind me to never step foot into the Bronco ever again. Disgusting.” 

“What about you?” Emma asked, turning back to you. “Going to show up to the wedding with a hot date that you haven’t told anyone about?” 

“Why would I do that?” you asked, turning back to your sister-in-law. 

“You don’t think that anyone’s noticed? You showed up to the Hard Deck one night with a hickey right under your collar.”

“Are you ready for your fitting?” the seamstress asked, causing you to look away from Emma.  

“Yes, please,” you agreed, walking over to her. Turning back to Emma and Phoenix, you shrugged your shoulders innocently. “Sorry, I have to go.” 

The seamstress led you back into the fitting room. Pulling on the blue bridesmaid dress that you ordered months ago, you held it to your chest as the seamstress did up the back of the dress. But you winced as she tugged on the string, tightening your dress uncomfortably around your midriff and breasts. 

“Hmm,” she murmured to herself, loosening the fabric. “A little tight.” 

“Just a little,” you murmured stiffly, trying to adjust the top of the dress. 

“Maybe they took your measurements wrong,” the seamstress replied, which is probably what she told everyone that gained weight right before a fitting. “It’s no problem. We will just loosen it here in the back.”

“Yeah, that should work,” you agreed softly, staring nervously at your reflection in the mirror. 

~~~~~

After you finished up with the dress fittings, Emma insisted that you come back to Maverick’s house for dinner. And even though you were very much interested in going to see Jake again, you agreed since you hadn’t seen your brother or Mav for about a week now. Pulling into the familiar driveway right behind Emma, you followed her inside. Your brother Rooster was in the kitchen, cooking something that you couldn’t yet see. 

“I’m home!” Emma called, causing Rooster to pick his head up and smile.

“Hey, baby,” he returned happily, pulling Emma in for a kiss.

“Please don’t make out in front of me,” you huffed dramatically, hanging up your purse and covering your eyes. 

“Don’t look,” Rooster replied back to you, releasing his wife. 

“Hey, did you finish up those lesson plans with Hangman?” Emma asked, glancing over the food that Rooster was preparing. 

“No. The dickhead keeps dragging his ass about it,” Rooster complained, causing you to glance out the window. “He’s been a bigger pain in the ass than usual.” 

“Just be glad that he promised to not have Javy’s bachelor party in Vegas,” Emma reminded Rooster, bumping his hip with her own. “And that he swore to all of you guys that there would be no strippers at the party.”

“Shocking considering the company that he usually keeps,” Rooster muttered, causing you to pause, taken aback by your brother’s words. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that Nat would have actually strangled him if he got a stripper.” Rooster glanced between you and his wife. “You guys were smart to do the bachelorette party earlier.” 

Rooster reached over and grabbed the cover on the pot of whatever he was cooking and in an instant, the smell hit you like a ton of bricks. Covering your mouth with your hand as your stomach rolled dangerously, you reached quickly for the door to the backyard. 

“Jesus, you look ill,” Rooster commented, earning a sharp look from his wife. 

“What—” Emma called, walking after you, but you were already bent over. 

Emptying what little was left in your stomach onto the ground out behind Mav’s deck, you coughed and gagged as more threatened to come up. 

“Jesus Christ, are you okay!?” Emma yelled, rushing to your side. “You looked a little flushed at the dress shop, but now I think you’re really sick.” 

“It was just fish,” Rooster insisted, stepping out onto the back porch. 

“Fuck off, Brad—oh shit.”

You gripped the edge of the deck harshly, trying to keep what was left in your stomach there. Sweat was starting to drip down your forehead as your stomach rolled again. Emma, unlike your brother, was helpful and brushed your hair out of your face. 

“What did you eat earlier?” Emma asked, waving at her husband to bring some water. 

“Nothing strange,” you replied, gasping a bit. “Just my normal stuff.” 

“Maybe something went bad.” 

“Jesus, what the hell do you have?” he asked, resting a hand on your back as he brought you a glass of water. 

“The urge to push you over the side,” you muttered, glaring over at your brother. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Maverick questioned, walking around the side of the house. 

“Nothing, Mav,” you insisted, taking the tissue from Rooster’s hand. “Just Rooster’s cooking all over again.” 

“You didn’t even eat anything. It was just the smell that set you off.” 

“Probably because you’re a horrible cook,” you muttered, wiping the spit off of your face. “Sorry about that, Mav.” 

“I’ll just wash it away with water,” Maverick insisted, hopping up onto the deck. “Are you sure that you’re feeling alright? Did you need a ride home?” 

“No, no, I'll just drink some water and I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. I think that seamstress just yanked my dress a little too tight and wobbled up my stomach,” you laughed off, trying not to worry your family. “I’ll be fine.” 

You ended up staying for a few more minutes, but the smell came to be too much and Maverick drove you home, picking up some broth and ginger ale for you on the way. While he was inside the grocery store, you shot Jake a quick text. 

Sorry, I think I’m coming down with something. I won’t be making it over.

After about five seconds, your phone buzzed with Jake’s reply.

Did you want me to come over and take care of you?

You stared down at your phone for a moment before you noticed that Maverick was already walking out of the store and back to your car. 

Mav’s here. I’ll be fine. Thanks tho. 

~~~~~

It was a few days before Phoenix and Coyote’s wedding, and despite your sudden illness, you quickly recovered. You went over to Jake’s place like you planned the next day and acted like nothing was wrong in the first place. Though when you mentioned that to Penny during your weekly chat, she seemed concerned. 

“Just the smell of the fish caused you to throw up?” Penny asked as you walked down the boardwalk together. 

“Yeah, but you haven’t seen his usual mess,” you brushed off, not concerned. “He was an absolute trash chef until he met Emma. And now he’s just a slightly less terrible chef.”

“Have you been throwing up recently? Or nauseous?”

“A little here and there with nausea but I haven’t thrown up since that night. But it’s probably just the wedding. Everyone’s on edge about it and I'm the maid of honor. It’s a lot of stress.”

“Definitely,” Penny asked, part of her brain telling her to just leave her hunch alone. You were an adult. You could handle yourself. But then those maternal instincts kicked in. “Any other symptoms that’ve been bothering you?”

“No,” you insisted, laughing off Penny’s concern. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just that with you throwing up just because of the smell of something and you said that you’ve been feeling randomly nauseous lately . . .” Penny trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence but when you didn’t finish it on your own, she continued. “You’re sure that there aren’t any other symptoms?”

“Penny, are you asking me if I’m pregnant?” you asked, turning to face her. 

“I mean, is there a chance?”

“I’m on birth control,” you insisted quietly. 

“And you’ve never missed a pill?”

“Well . . .” Grabbing your purse nervously, you glanced up and down the boardwalk and turned back to Penny. “Maybe one or two.”

“That happens,” Penny assured you, putting up a brave face. “But if there’s no other symptoms, then I’m sure you’re fine.”

“My dress was a little tight at my fitting,” you added, causing Penny to pause. “But that could just be my weight fluctuating with stress and everything.”

“Of course with the wedding and everything,” Penny agreed, nodding along. “And besides, you use other protection, right?”

“Oh, yeah . . .” you trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. Because there were more than a few times that you and Jake didn’t bother to use a condom. “Most of the time.”

There was a moment of silence that passed between the two of you before you pulled out your keys. Wordlessly, Penny grabbed your shoulder supportively and the two of you turned for the car. You drove down the road to the pharmacy, grabbed a handful of tests, and returned to the Hard Deck. Penny let you into her private bathroom next to her office and handed you the bag. 

“It’s just a precaution,” Penny told you, trying to keep you calm. 

“It’s just a precaution,” you repeated softly. 

Penny sat behind her desk, pretending to do work while her brain moved a thousand miles a minute. The first question was, of course, who the father would be if you were pregnant. And Penny had a guess. A pretty good guess. She saw all and she saw the way that you hung off of Hangman’s arm on the back deck one night when you thought no one was watching. And she saw the way that Hangman’s eyes just seemed to naturally trail after you. 

But she shouldn’t get ahead of herself. She didn’t even know that you were pregnant yet. 

The door to the bathroom opened a few minutes later and you slowly stepped out, holding three different white plastic tests in your shaking hands. Staring down at the tests for a moment, you finally turned to look up at Penny. 

“Well?” she asked, getting up from behind her desk and walking over to you. 

Silently, you handed the tests to Penny. She glanced down at the tests as you felt your stomach roll again. Dropping your purse, you turned and hurried into the bathroom. Penny dropped the tests and hurried after you, pulling back your hair as you heaved. 

[chelleztjs18]

The Scene (E.O)

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!ActressReader ; Rachel McAdams, Benedict Cumberbatch (Platonic)

Summary: Something unexpected happened while you were filming a movie with Lizzie which leads more things out of it.

Warning: None. Just some fluff.

A/n: Hello! I'm back. This fic is from two request that I combined together. This is a made up Kamar Taj scene is being filmed with Rachel McAdams and Benedict Cumberbatch in it. I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies in the scene and golden globes part. Happy reading!

Here are the requests for this fic:

Main Masterlist

What’s better than playing a superhero role in the movie industry? Well, nothing can top the joy and the fun of filming in one of the Marvel movies with your beloved wife, Elizabeth Olsen. You and Lizzie have been married for five months now. It was a very small intimate wedding with family and close friends, just like how you and Lizzie wanted. There was no media nor paparazzi craziness. Both of you try to keep your relationships for two years and the wedding under the radar to enjoy and cherish each other more privately in between busy schedules.

“You did a great job, Lizzie. I can’t believe that you did that scene in one shot. That was pretty hard to do with all the wires and stuff.” Benedict compliments her as he takes a seat next to her, taking a break.

“Aww thanks, Ben. I was actually nervous. You know me with heights, never a fan of it.” Lizzie lets out her little laugh.

“Oh yeah, I see what you mean. They pull you up pretty high.I bet it can be uncomfortable sometimes, especially with your Scarlet Witch costume right now.” The Wizard cast responds.

“Sometimes but I love this costume. So, I won’t complain.” She laughs again after trying to let out a joke.

Lizzie and Benedict have a great time talking for a little while until she sees something that makes her stomach turn. Anger thundered through her. Her heart aches and she crumbles inside. All emotions mix up in a split second. Lizzie stands up furiously. She can’t believe what she just saw. Seeing Rachel kiss your lips and you don’t even do anything to avoid it, makes her want to get to you right away.

“Liz? Are you okay?” The British man asks confusedly after taking notice of Lizzie's displeased facial expression.

“Yeah. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” That was all Lizzie said shortly before she rushed her steps with her full Wanda’s costume and barged into the set where you and Rachel are.

“What’s going on here?” Lizzie asks in such anger. You and Rachel look at Lizzie in surprise that neither of you say anything for a few seconds.

The silence from the both of you upset Lizzie even more. Her glossy hurtful eyes look at you in disappointment as she continues telling you how she feels in gritted teeth slowly walking closer to you and Rachel. “After everything we’ve been through, this is what I get in return? Was it a game for you? And to think I would go through the ends of the world for you. Just explain to me why?!” she demands. Her voice gets shaky.

Rachel slowly moves to get to behind you, trying not to get involved between you and Lizzie. Noticing what Rachel is doing, you naturally take a stand in front of her. You were about to tackle everything she said but she didn’t let you. “How could you do this to me?” She added as she spread her palms then clenched them to fists with fury.

Then all of sudden, a familiar voice struck Lizzie’s attention. “Cut! That surprisingly fits perfectly!”

Lizzie quickly turns her head to where the voice came from. She came to realize what was actually going on. She looks at you, Rachel and surroundings. The filming crews are looking at the three of you. Sam, the director smiles satisfiedly.

Her cheeks slowly turn crimson. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I–I–I didn’t know that you were filming a scene. Oh my gosh.” She covers her face with her hands for a few seconds and then uncover it. She tries to laugh her embarrassment off. Her cheeks feel warmer from blushing.

“It’s okay but yes, love. I was filming a scene with Rachel.” You replied.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie. It was totally a professional kiss.” Rachel explains in a light joking tone to make your wife feel better.

“No. No, you are totally fine. I’m sorry. I-I just didn’t know that there’s a kissing scene.” Everybody in the room heard what she just said in awe.

“Yes, babe. I told you about it the other night, remember?” you explain yourself as you grab both of her hands to give her the reassurance and comfort she needs. Lizzie tries to recall. “Oooohh yeah. Gosh, I was probably distracted when I was cooking dinner. So embarass–”

You and Lizzie notice that Sam came to talk.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I totally forgot that there was a kissing scene and I got—” Lizzie awkwardly apologizes but Sam finishes her sentence.

“Jealous? First of all, it was cute. Second of all, it was a brilliant spontaneous scene! I love it. You should see your facial expression on the whole thing.”

“Oh yeah, I could see that, Sam. I thought the Scarlet Witch existed for real for that whole minute.” you joke more as you gently squeeze her hand as your way to let her know that you are with her to comfort her.

“Yeah, but I apologize for ruining the scene.”

“Oh no, you didn’t at all, Lizzie. As a matter of fact, I will change the script and we will use it in the movie. We just need to add some visual effects in it and it’s good to go.” Sam lays out his idea and plan in a thrill.

Hearing his plan, Lizzie’s face slowly shows some relief. “Oh, uh– wow. Okay.” The four of you laugh. “Okay, then. Let’s take a lunch break and we’ll continue in an hour?” Sam announced.

Everybody walks away to take their break but you grab Lizzie’s hand before she turns around. “Feel better, babe?” you try to make sure.

“It was so embarrassing but yes, I feel better.” She smiles then laughs.

“No, I meant that the kiss was just one of the scenes.”

“Uh-y-yes.” She admits and covers her face once again. You pull her hands away and look at her lovingly.

“I would never do that to you nor hurt you like that. I’m all yours I love you.” You kiss her forehead then look at her again.

“Aw. I love you too, y/n. Thank you.”

“You were cute and sexy at the same time when you get jealous though.” You tease her and both of you laugh.

“Oh yeah? Well, you better watch out.” She teases you back.

“Oh, really?” your lips form a teasing smirk. She playfully hits your arm and rolls her eyes.

“You are silly. Let’s go have lunch babe. I’m hungry after all that jealousy I felt.” she grabs your hand and walks with you.

“You are cute.” you follow where Lizzie leads you.

_____

It has been two weeks since the latest Marvel movie came out. It was a hit. People love you and Lizzie in it. You are happy with how positive the public's reaction was. There was a rumor going around that Lizzie improvised on the jealous Scarlet Witch scene after your character kisses Rachel’s. Neither you, Lizzie nor other casts know how the words spread. Lizzie is happy with the fact that people love your acting in the movies. That’s all that matters to her.

Today, you, Lizzie, Rachel and Benedict are invited to the Jimmy Fallon show to talk about the viral movie. Before you got to the location, both you and Lizzie had a talk and decided to be ready if Jimmy asked about your love life. You both think it’s time to let the cats out of the bag about your relationship.

“Welcome everybody! Wow, I feel so safe right now with some of the Marvel superheroes around us.” said the host followed by the cheer and applause from the thrilled audiences.

“Thank you for having us, Jimmy. So good to be back here.” Lizzie expresses her gratitude from where she sits next to the beautiful older actress, Rachel. You adore her beauty from the seat across from her as the dark haired actor next to you chimes in.

Everything went well and it was really fun for everybody. All the casts get their questions.The studio is filled with laughter and excitement.

“Okay, Y/n Y/LN. It’s your turn right now for questions.” Jimmy slightly turns his head to you.

“Oh lord.” you joke as you pretend to look nervous. The audiences and Jimmy laugh at your antics. “I love your character. You have a cool super power in it and as you know a lot of fans are simping your character with the one and only Scarlet Witch.” The crowd can’t hold back themselves with such thrill as soon as Jimmy mentioned the both of you.

You hear Lizzie’s lovely laugh and you glanced at her to see her smile.

“Ah yes, yes. I heard about it.” you respond as you shift the way you sit a little and smile.

“Let’s just go straight to everybody’s favorite scene after you kiss Rachel’s character.” Benedict and Rachel playfully do a hand gesture as if they are locking their mouth. Rachel even throws the imaginary key of the lock to you.

“What? What is it? Are we missing something?” puzzled with what he just saw, Jimmy asked. His gaze bouncing back and forth between the four of you.

“Oh no. Nothing. Nothing.” Benedict denies the question and laughs. Jimmy then looks at Rachel, hoping he will get an answer and Rachel pretends jokingly to look around with a smile.

“Ah, I see. We’ll get back to you two later.” Jimmy adds.

“So, back to you, Y/n.” Jimmy looks at you and with that he interviews you some questions regarding the movie. Three questions and some jokes later, you thought he was done asking you but you were wrong.

“As the newcomer in MCU, fans are dying to know about your current love —” Jimmy was interrupted by the cheering women fans in the studio. He smiles as he slightly lifts up his hand asking for some silence to continue.

You laugh as your cheek blush and you tap your hands gently multiple times on your thighs nervously. You and Lizzie knew sooner or later that this question would come.

“Are you seeing someone now?”

“As in dating or hallucinating?” Once more you joke around and everybody instantly laughs.

“Good one. Good one. Nice try on stalling to answer the question.” Jimmy responds humorously in between laughs.

You sneaked another quick glance to Lizzie then looked at Jimmy. “Well, I’m taken, married actually.” you finally answered and you subtly show the wedding ring on your ring finger and awkwardly laugh.

“Wait.. Wait.. Wait.. What?? When did this all happen? Last time you were here, you were single.” Jimmy exclaimed.

“Yes I was but now I’m happily married.” The audiences are in awe with your answer.

“Okay, okay. Congratulations! Wow. What an exciting surprise. Is your husband from the movie industry as well?” Jimmy asks curiously.

“Wife.” You corrected it with an excited smile. Surely, Jimmy looks surprised yet excited for you. A huge cloud of curiosity flows over Jimmy and all of the audiences instantly.

“Awww! Who is this lucky woman?” Jimmy asks and shortly after people start to chant “Who is she? Who is she?”

The four of you laugh. Rachel and Benedict try to keep their expression that they know the truth. Nobody notices that Lizzie looks at you and gives you a subtle small wink and you take that as your cue that it’s time to let people know.

“Okay. Okay. My wife is a very lovely woman. She is the sweetest so I’m the lucky one. We have been friends since the first time I came to this industry. She helps me and teaches what she knows in acting.”

“Oh?! So she is an actress?” Jimmy tries harder to dig more.

“Yes she is. Lizzie and I have been married for five months now.” In a split second, everybody in their seats cheers, applauses and goes crazy.

“Oh my god! I knew it! I knew it!” Jimmy exclaimed with a huge smile, raising his fists as if he just won a jackpot.

A few minutes later silence slowly covers up the cheerings.

“Okay, since the tea has been spilled, Lizzie, let’s switch seats so you can sit next to your wife.” Benedict stands up and gives up his seat to Lizzie. Everybody looks at you and Lizzie in awe as soon as she sits next to you and holds your hands.

Jimmy quickly connects the dots and asks one unexpected question.

“Wait, so does it mean that the improvised jealous Scarlet Witch was actually real?” An image of the scene shows up on the giant screen as Jimmy’s hand points at it. “I meant Wanda’s expression looks so real that I can even feel it when I watch it. Were you really jealous, Elizabeth?” he continues.

“Uh oh.” Benedict's short remark lures some laugh from you and Lizzie.

“Tell him, Lizzie.” Rachel joins in jokingly.

Lizzie laughs awkwardly, blush creeps up on her cheeks. “Oh my gosh. This was embarrassing. So, in my defense, I didn’t know— well actually I forgot that there was a kissing scene between Y/n and Rachel. I was just taking a break and chilling with Benedict then I saw them kissing, I didn’t know they were filming. So yeah and then that happened. Eeeeend scene.” Lizzie explained.

Jimmy lets out a pretend gasp and looks at Benedicts. “Why didn’t you stop her?” Everybody laughs.

“Oh I was just so puzzled because she just suddenly stood up, excused herself and told me she would be right back. I tried to stop her, I wish I had the time stone with me at that time.” The  dark haired man responded with some laughs.

“Rachel, you were hiding behind Y/n’s back.” Jimmy examines the giant picture.

“Yes, yes I was. To be honest, I was so bamboozled and my mind tried to think if Lizzie was really mad with me because I don’t want her to be mad at me or if it was just Wanda’s part in the scene. My mind starts to question in those short minutes if Wanda will push me with her wiggly woo in it because I have all the wire around me and I wasn’t ready if they were gonna do a sudden pull on me with them.” Rachel smiles at Lizzie and you.

Jimmy nods at Rachel’s answer then looks at you. “I was as confused as Rachel was but I tried to calm her down because I knew it was all a misunderstanding. Lizzie never really shows jealousy but I’m not gonna lie she actually looked so cute and adorable.”  You look at her in adoration and rub your thumb in the back of her hand. Lizzie gives you a smile back.

“Wow, I never knew behind that iconic scene was actually a funny moment. So Sam, the director, decided to use that scene for the movie?” Jimmy lets out his thoughts.

“Yes, he did.” Another shy laugh followed Lizzie’s answer. With that, the show continues with a little more questions and everything goes well.

You and Lizzie are happy with people’s positive reaction at the show about your relationship until some comments you read on social media a few days after.

_____

You and Lizzie are having a relaxing week before the Golden Globe award event this weekend. You are sitting in the backyard scrolling on the internet while Lizzie is doing her gardening vlog.

“Hi babe. What you doin’ there?” Lizzie asks as she grabs a glass of iced tea you made for her and sits next to you once she is done with her plants.

“Oh nothing. Jimmy’s show that we were in is up on the channel and internet. So I was just reading people’s comments.” you answer while your gaze is glued to the screen of your tablet.

“Oh? I hope they are all good comments?” she responds after a sip. “Hm yeah, they are.” you mindlessly answer but she notices your facial expression. You squint a little as you read more. Your eyebrow knitting together and your lips pressing in a straight line without even realizing it.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Lizzie’s tone sounds a little concerned.

“Ah nothing to be worried about, Liz. Some people are just funny with their comments and really need to find something else to do.” your hand did an air quote on the word funny and you laughed.

“What did you mean? What comment? Let me see.” Lizzie's curiosity takes over and she opens her palm, waiting for you to hand her the tablet.

“Just promise me, don’t worry about the comments and ignore them, okay, love. They really don’t bother me.” you subtly demand shortly before you let her read them.

“I can’t believe that Lizzie married Y/n Y/L/N. I hope it was just a lie.”

“Y/n is a new actress, she probably just wanted fame from being with Lizzie.”

“I think this whole thing was a skit to gain more fans attention, she probably lied about being married to Lizzie.”

“Even though IF it was true that they are married, she just uses Lizzie as her ride to fame. I’m sure as soon as she gets enough fame or movies, Y/n will leave her.”

The more she reads the comments, the more upset she looks. “I’m not happy with this, Y/n. We gotta do something about this.”

“No, I don’t think we have to do anything about it. I’m sure the comments will soon be old news and people will forget about it. I don’t really care what people say about me, Lizzie.” you express your point of view.

“I do. I will do something about it.”

“Wait, what are you going to do?”

“We’ll see. Don’t worry, darling. Everything is under control.” She kisses your cheeks and smiles, not giving you any clue what’s on her mind. You try to shrug it off and not to worry about it.

Few days later, there are more comments, both positive and negative about you and Lizzie’s. There are even videos in the media from the influencers or fans talking about them and going viral.

_____

Today is the Golden Globe award day. It’s the first big event since you got married. After hours of getting ready, you and Lizzie finally arrived at the venue. As soon as both of you got out of the car and walked to the red carpet spot, fans went all hyped up and so did the paparazzi and the media. You and Lizzie sometimes stop to sign some autographs.

You hear a bunch of voices calling Lizzie’s and your name. It’s your and Lizzie’s turn to be on the red carpet, camera flashes start to show up from every direction. Lizzie holds your hand as she poses with a smile and her eyes look at the camera.

The photographers caught some cute moments of you and Lizzie smiling at each other with the look of love.

Suddenly, Lizzie pulls you closer to her and kisses you on the lips to show the world how much she loves you and how happily married she is to you. She wanted to show all the internet trolls who said bad things about you to just mind their own business.

After the kiss, Lizzie smiles and says “I love you.” and without a doubt you say it back to her and it all caught on camera.

At the end of the red carpet, Lavern Cox is already waiting for you two to come and interview you.

“Oh my god, here comes the newlywed. One of the IT couples. Hi you guys. Both of you look amazing tonight!” She greets you and Lizzie.

“Hello, Lavern. Thank you. So glad to see you again.” you replied after you and Lizzie gave her friendly kiss on the cheeks.

“Me too, Y/n! Congratulations on the wedding! You both make a perfect couple and Lizzie, that kiss just now, I was in awe when I saw it. That was a pretty strong statement you made after things went viral about you two.” Lavern said shortly before she directed her microphone to Lizzie and you to respond.

You start with an awkward laugh. “I really didn’t expect the kiss, Lizzie always surprises me with her lovely and sweet gesture. I really appreciate her ways of showing her love and I’m really proud to show up as her wife tonight.” You can’t hold back a smile as soon as you are done saying your part and Lizzie takes her turn. Lizzie’s eyes are drinking the view of your smile in awe.

“Nice to see you again, Lavern. Thank you. It’s always nice to see our friends here and I think tonight is the perfect time for us to openly come out as being married to each other. I thank all the fans for their support and I would also like to tell some of the people who spread bad words or lies about Y/n to just leave her alone. We are happily married, we love each other sincerely. Y/n has been a great partner for me and she loves me for who I am. She could be famous even without me because she is a very talented actress and amazing person.” Her gentle smile looks totally opposite from her subtle firm tone as she expresses her thoughts towards the end of her statement.

“I couldn’t agree more with you, Lizzie. Wow, I love you so much for standing up for Y/n.” Lavern compliments her and continues with a few more questions about the outfits you and Lizzie wear tonight before the usher leads the two of you to the ballroom.

After having a little small talk with the others on the table, you gently hold Lizzie’s hand under the table and whisper to her “Thank you so much for standing up for me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

Lizzie’s gaze gently locks on yours and she replies with a loving smile. “Of course, babe. Like I said, everything is under control.” she gives you a quick peck on your lips then tonight’s host starts the event.

Everybody had a great time. At the end of the night, the crowd cheers even more positively as you and Lizzie walk out.

A/n: Welp, that's all from me for today, peeps! I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

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[mistress-violence]

Prompt: Magazine from @into-the-jeggyverse (August 27)

Word count: 569 words

Pairing: Jegulus (modern AU)

⚠️ Warnings: masturbation assumptions

Regulus had already started unpacking the kitchen utensils while James, Sirius and Remus brought the last boxes into the house. He wanted to offer his brother and his brother's fiancé a tea after they offered to help him and James move in their new apartment. He forgot how chaotic the three of them can be when they are together though, which is why all the boxes were mixed up and out of place.

He managed to find the cups and cutlery in the bathroom and the kettle in the bedroom, but he wasn't successful in locating the kettle yet. He set aside a box full of books and one of toiletries, hoping the one at the bottom would be what he was looking for. Regulus raised his eyebrows when instead of the kettle he found a box with "College" written on it.

He knew it wasn't his, but the curiosity was too big. He took the scissors and cut the strip of tape from the top before opening it. Inside were things Regulus had expected: James' old football gear, his graduation album, pictures of James and his friends during college, little things that held memories from his student years. While looking among the small plush toys won at the carnivals and the penis-shaped magnets received at every birthday for the past 10 years (an inside joke in their group of friends), Regulus discovered something at the bottom.

James entered the front door with two boxes in hand, which he immediately placed in the hall. He briefly searched for Regulus around until he found him in the living room, looking over a Playboy magazine. His Playboy magazine from college...

Regulus immediately lifted his head with a look that was hard to describe. It was something between repressed anger, confusion and desire for blood.

"I can explain!" James said immediately, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Regulus didn't say anything, just popped his tongue and turned the open magazine towards James.

"What's going on here?" Sirius asked, appearing from behind James with a box in hand.

His gaze ran to the magazine and his mouth opened. It was an ad for Obscurius, a perfume from the Black family beauty line. Regulus' picture took up the entire page, with an expression that would make even a professional model jealous. It was a part of Regulus' dark past, when he was still under his mother's shoe, a loyal servant of Black beauty company. All kinds of hearts were drawn over the picture with red permanent marker.

"Can you explain this to me, Potter?" Regulus said, pressing each syllable.

"I swear I've had it since before I met you, Reg, I bought it for the tits!" James tried to defend himself, taking a step back.

"Why is the page sticky? What did you do with it, Potter?"

"I think I hear my phone ringing. Excuse me!"

"James Fleamont Potter, go right back and tell me why the pages are sticky!" Regulus shouted, running after his lover.

"What's with all this noise?" asked Remus, bringing the last boxes into the house.

Sirius was standing in the doorway, his hand over his mouth and a visible shock on his face. He received too much information about his friend's old habits than he wanted to know.

"Let's go home, now," Sirius hissed, trying to leave the apartment as quickly as possible with a confused Remus behind him.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter seven:

➴ warnings: brief mention of smut

➴ word count: 2.4k

➴ author’s note: is the thing people say about rainstorms before rainbows true? i guess it’s time for soph and jack to find out. “happy” reading ♡

FALLING out of love was something you had yet to experience.

Of course, back then you thought you had fallen out of love with Harris, but soon you’d realize that you had never really loved him. It was some kind of strong admiration, a need to have someone to call yours, someone who you could write love songs for, someone who you could imagine yourself getting old with.

‘Course, none of those things happened with Harris, not even during your honeymoon phase. You were young when you started dating him, twenty-one and with no real idea of what love truly was.

So an older actor who thought you were cute?

It felt like you had hit the jackpot.

But now, as you try your hardest to forget what Jack meant— means— to you, you realize that it isn’t as easy as you initially thought it would be.

Jack is everywhere, occupying every corner of your mind. You remember how sweet he’d talk to you after sex, always treating you with kindness and making sure you were well taken care of. How he’d send you memes that were purely about Hockey even if you never understood what was so funny about them, how he’d get excited talking about his job and how he’d try to explain all the terms to you.

Despite what happened, Jack had made you so happy. It was sad to think that it was all probably a joke to him, but for you? No, it was real. So real. Every time you looked at his face, you reminded yourself that some things are not meant to last forever.

But God knew how much you wanted him to be your forever.

Keeping yourself busy was easy, and you were thankful for that. Your small concert, a week ago, filled you with so much joy and contentment— you were alive and not thinking about the middle child of the Hughes family for the first time in seven months.

Grace made sure that you took enough breaks but whenever you were alone with your thoughts for a long time, the first image your brain liked to share with you was Jack’s smile and Jack’s eyes and Jack’s nose and lips.

It was tiring.

You didn’t tell anyone, but you secretly watched his games when you were alone at night. You didn’t know much, but the experts keep saying that this is Hughes’ worst season and that he’s playing like shit, which, unfortunately, made you worry.

But you wouldn’t go back, you couldn’t go back.

Sometimes, at night, you’d remember how he looked at you when you told him you were in love with him. Or how he looked when you told him to leave, so desperate for you to hear him, at least for a few more minutes.

You’d replay that day inside of your head every night, like a nighttime routine, trying to find a different, better ending.

You’d always come up empty.

Sighing, you looked at your phone, reading Grace’s text with a smile.

Grace being Grace.

Even if she technically worked for you, you’ve barely seen Grace the past couple of days. You were both so busy it was almost impossible to keep up with each other’s schedule. But you did manage to free up some space so you could at least have lunch with her, and turns out she thought it’d be cool to include Nico too.

So, lunch at Nico’s house.

You said goodbye to the people who were working with you at the GQ photo shoot and drove to his house, blasting music through your speakers. No thoughts allowed!

You rang the doorbell, waiting until Grace herself opened the door, like she owned the house. You still weren’t sure if you wanted to know what was truly happening between the two of them, so you didn’t ask questions.

“Hi, my little popstar,” Grace shouted, hugging you tightly.

“Stop putting little before every noun when you’re referring to me.” You mumbled, face still shoved in the crook of her neck.

“Why would I do that? It’s fun and true. Come inside, Nico’s ordering pizza!”

You entered the house, feeling your cheeks getting warm when you remembered what happened the last time you were here.

“Shut the fuck up, Sophia,” during sex, he only used your name whenever he was really pissed, and apparently this was one of those times. “Don’t need anyone hearing how much of a whore you actually are.”

“Fuck, uh, come for me, baby, c’mon,” Jack whispered, hands still on you, dick fucking you hard and rough, leaving your insides raw and deliciously hurting. “Come on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Well. No more of that.

“No— Man, listen. I want a large pepperoni and a large margherita, please,” Nico smiled at you before putting his hand on his head, holding his phone with the other. “Why the hell would I put pineapple on a fucking pepperoni pizza? Let me speak to your manager, that’s— that’s a crime.”

“He’s just a Swiss Karen, really,” Grace sighed, sitting on the couch. You sat next to her, watching as Hischier tried to explain to the manager why pineapples shouldn’t even be included in pizzas in the first place. “I think he’s just nervous about the games.”

“Yeah,” you wanted to tell her that you’ve been watching the games and that it didn’t look really good for them but it would just give your I’m-already-over-Jack facade away. “Must be hard.”

“Tell me about it, I barely see him. It’s like hockey players only exist during the summer or whatever.” She sighed again, fixing her braids. You looked at her, full of compassion.

If you and Jack dated, would you feel like her?

No.

You wouldn’t know the answer to that question because that won’t happen.

“Hi, Soph,” you heard the Devils’ captain say, greeting you.

“Hey there, thirteen. How are you?”

He yawned, stretching his arms. “Tired, stressed, hungry, tired.” He stopped for a second before continuing. “Have I mentioned tired?”

“Sucks to be you, to be honest,” you giggled, looking at him funny.

The pizza would take a while to get delivered— especially since Nico argued with the manager and now they were probably taking their time spitting on the dough— so you used the time to catch up on their lives.

Grace talked about how her marketing degree never prepared her for how much work she’d actually have to get done, and how much she missed her mom and dad, and how Jessica, your vocal coach, was starting to piss her off with her I-am-better-than-everyone attitude.

Nico talked about the games, and how he basically was never at home, and how he’d spend half of his time on planes and the other half on practice and yet he still felt like they weren’t going to make it.

That made you wonder how Jack was doing with all of this. If he had come back to Newark after their week away, to spend thanksgiving with his family.

Not that you cared, you just wondered.

Noticing how both Grace and Nico stayed quiet, you realized that they’re probably waiting for you to update them on your life. You smiled awkwardly.

“I have been working a lot,” you shrugged. “I love what I do so it isn’t exactly working for me. Besides that, I sleep, eat and drink water.”

They both looked at you with pity, which made your stomach ache. You didn’t want anyone pitying you, in fact, you didn’t need it. You weren’t a damsel in distress, you didn’t need to be saved— you just chose to spend your free time alone. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.

“I’m gonna go grab some wine from the cellar, be right back,” Nico announced, out of nowhere, getting up and heading downstairs. Grace looked at him with puppy eyes and you laughed.

“People in love are disgusting,” you joked, and Grace rolled her eyes at you.

“Shut it, Twilight,” she laughed, not denying it. “I’m gonna go grab the glasses.”

The doorbell rang and you got up. “It looks like I’m gonna go grab the pizza.”

“Make sure they didn’t put poison in it!” Grace shouted, making her way to the kitchen, while you walked until you were in front of the door, smiling still.

“Sophia?”

Hi, Universe. It’s your girl, Sophia. So, what is this about? What are you trying to do here? Let me tell you now, it won’t work.

“Hum, hi?” It sounded more like a question than a greeting, but out of all things you would have imagined that could happen to you that day, opening the door and finding Jack on the other side of it wasn’t on your list.

“What are you,” he stuttered, clutching hard the bag he was holding in his hands. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’m sorry.”

You leaned against the door, confusion taking over your face. Jack wasn’t the type of man to apologize so easily.

“It’s fine.”

You both went quiet, staring at each other. It was weird to be around Jack without touching him, your heart still hurting because you love him deeply.

It was the type of love you’d want to tell your children, if you decided to have them one day. The type of love where you’d come home after a long day, just to find your forever sitting on the couch, yapping about his day. The type of love you read in books and watch movies about, the type of love you want to write songs about. The type of love where his hugs feel like a cold, gentle breeze during a sunny day, and his kisses felt like the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

You loved Jack Hughes deeply and he wanted him to be your forever more than anything.

But it wouldn’t happen. And it’s fine. It’d be fine.

“Do you want me to call Nico?” You whispered, averting his gaze.

“You don’t need to, I just stopped by to give him this,” he raised the bag in his hands, shrugging.

“Okay…” You nodded, not sure of what to say. “Then, I guess I’m… gonna go. Nice seeing you.” You lied, because you’d much rather keep watching him on TV, with a safe distance between you two, than to face him in real life.

“No, Soph, wait—” he called you, putting his feet between the door gap. “Can we, like, talk?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jack.” You retorted, biting your bottom lip.

“Soph, did they spit on our pizza?” Grace’s voice sounded cheerful behind you, and you cringed, knowing exactly how she’s going to react once she sees Jack here. “I hope they only spitted on Nico’s pizza, to be honest. What are you doing there— Oh.”

You turned around and looked at her, smiling awkwardly. No one moved a muscle for at least ten seconds and you gave in, knowing that discussing things with her would be harder than hearing Jack out.

“I’ll just… I’ll be right back, okay?” You announced, pointing to Jack behind you. “It’s fine.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, Grace. Go find Nico, please.” You pleaded, not wanting to feel any shittier. Grace only stared at Jack for what seemed to be a whole minute before nodding once and making her way to Nico.

“I guess she still hates me.” Jack pointed out, chuckling humorlessly.

You turned around, raising your eyebrows at him. “Can you blame her?”

“No, not really,” he shrugged, putting the bag on the floor and putting his hands inside of his jeans’ pockets. “I get that you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you, I’m not mad at you. Hurt? Maybe. But I knew what I was getting myself into, so I guess I can’t really blame you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying really hard to be the bigger person when all you wanted to do was smash his face into a wall and kiss him right after that.

“I want you to know that I am sorry about what happened,” he stepped closer, making you smell his cologne, sandalwood and something else that smelled a lot like money. Weird combination but it worked for him. “Truly. I didn’t fuck Ava or any other woman while we were together. I— I just wanted to be with you, Soph, I need you to know that.”

You stared at his face, trying so hard to find the same expression you found on your ex’s face whenever he lied and manipulated you. But you couldn’t— Jack was still the same as he was seven months ago, when he hit on you at that dinner party.

He still looked like the guy who held you close after sex, the guy who order take out for you just because he knew you’d get too tired to cook for yourself, the guy who had a playlist just for his favorite songs by you, the guy who never understood your chronically online memes but laughed nonetheless because he said the way you laugh is funnier than the joke itself.

Jack still looked like he could be your forever.

So close yet so fucking distant.

You could feel yourself slipping into him again and you knew you couldn’t do this with yourself. You had to choose yourself before choosing anyone else.

“You don’t need to say sorry,” you whispered, smiling softly. “It’s fine. As you said, we weren’t even dating. I bet you wouldn’t have reacted the way I did if it’d been the other way around.”

He looked at you like you had grown a second head. “I would’ve gone crazy if it was the other way around. Sophia, I know it’s hard to believe but—”

“It’s fine, Jack, it really is,” you stated, shaking your head. “I accept your apologies but I think—” you broke eye contact, stepping back. “I think it’s just best if we stay out of each other’s way.”

You couldn’t tell which one of you cracked first. Jack, who looked at you like he’d seen a ghost, let his shoulders fall, looking as dejected as ever. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes but you held on tight. You had already cried in front of him once, and you weren’t going to do that again.

“Soph,” you heard his voice, so soft and so unlike him. “Soph, you don’t… you don’t mean that, baby.”

“I do,” you looked up, squeezing your eyes shut. “I do, Jack. And it will be fine. Let’s just move on.”

“Soph…”

“Please,” you whispered, already stepping back into the house, hands on the handle. “Jack. Please.”

You finally looked at him, noticing how his eyes looked so blue and sad. He stared at you before shaking his head, once and then twice, stepping back.

“I’m so sorry, Soph.” He said softly, before leaving Nico’s porch and making his way to his car.

“I know you are, baby,” you whispered, letting the tears finally fall. “I am, too.”

“Hum… pizza for Nico Hischier?”

Great.

[wil-dearest]

Anonymous asked: HeyI wwas wondering if you could do a Wolf! Wilbur x fem!reader? Like Wilbur gets into heat and begs reader to let him fuck them, humping at their leg until reader let's them and then Wilbur fucks Reader endless and then eventually knots them?

yeah why not. here.

trigger warning: dubcon because its a heat and not previously discussed. oblivious reader is left in the dark about wilbur's wolfishness and heats and shit. so. yeah. 18+

(Room)Mates

It's always a simple thing, come home, greet your roommate with lots of hugs and promises of conversations and things would go as smooth as butter. You didn't mind the arrangement, especially with the way he explained it. (Growing up, he had probably the most loving, physically affectionate family in the area. And you didn't mind a pretty boy asking for physical contact all the time. You're probably touch-starved but we won't delve too deep into it.) So this particular night, you had been out a little later, distracted by the dogs outside of your work, they wouldn't move even if you had extra treats in your bag. Not even for your cold lunch.

You admire the dedication but it still set your schedule back by an hour, not to mention, this would be the first time in a week you'd see Wilbur. He had called it a family emergency but his car hasn't let and you could hear noises in his room. Banging on the walls and heavy stuff dropping onto the floor. You'd be concerned if it continued when you were home. It was only ever when you were close to sleeping.

So, as the touch-starved human you are, you were excited to see your roommate, excited to see his fluffy brown hair fall into his eyes and excited to him laugh at your day. He was going to love this cheesy joke you overheard, you bite down on your smile, fishing for your keys in your bag.

Sliding the key into the door and jiggling it within the metal, you push your weight into it with your shoulder. It opens with a creak of resistance, swinging only a little bit as you stumble.

His car had been in the same spot as it had been but you could see that bedroom door was open. "Ah, sorry I'm late Wilbur, you should've seen it, the strays at work are getting bad again. And they're stubborn, wouldn't even move for the wrap I had. And you know where I get my wraps, from that little place next door so you know they were feeling spiteful from last spring." You speak in rambles, setting down your things by the coffee table and cracking your spine as you relax. You talk into the air, as if you weren't about to talk to him for the first time in a week. You hear padded footsteps and you can feel the heat radiating off of him as he gets closer and closer to you in the kitchen. You paid him no mind, already aware of how clingy he can get but when you reach into the cabinet above your head, you feel his body slide against yours, his crotch grounding against your ass as you lean onto your heels. It's an entire body reaction— from the curse words that fall from your mouth, you pushing him away and him whining.

"Fucking hell, what the fuck is going on, Wilbur?" The words fall from your mouth faster than you can think and he's just too much— too warm, too close, and too sweaty, what the fuck— the lower part of your back meets the counter and he slots his leg in between yours, rocking his hips and- fuck, he's so hard, he's fucking hard and he's fucking humping your leg. Clearing your head of the panic, you can hear him babbling, see the drool falling from the corners of his lips. "Need- need you so bad, heart, need t'be inside you, s'hot right now, you're so hot." And of course, he kept repeating about how he needed to knot you, how he just needed to breed you and make you so full of his pups. "Smell- you smell so good-" he moans into the air as he digs his nose into your hair.

How is this shit— whatever the fuck is going on with Wilbur, how is it so hot?

"Wilbur, look at me." You say, pinching his cheeks together where his lips purse and the drool spills onto your wrist, you can't even hold back the grimace, "what's going on with you?"

"S'sooooo warm, need- hah, need to fuck you full with my pups, please I'll be so good for you," his hips start rocking against your leg again and you can only shudder as his words slip under your skin and warm your insides. "Please let me fuck you, please please, just the tip, just the tip and I'll leave you alone, please baby, please, I need you- need you so bad, fuck you're so so-fffttttttt, fuck, please-" you slap a hand onto his mouth, your face burning except it doesn't do much, his moan vibrates through your hand and he starts to lick the salt off of your palm and in between the crevices in your fingers.

"God, Wilbur, you're a fucking- mess." You say as you push his head away and it just rolls on his neck, tears bubbling in his eyes as his mouth is still dropped open. He sinks to his knees, still grinding his crotch against your leg and it's so different to the Wilbur you know. (Well, he's still clingy and touchy as ever but he's so fucking horny right now, like- shit.) You wonder if somebody did something, like poison him with a sex thing or if he's sick or if he just... really missed you. Yeah, hard pass on the last bit.

His head leans against your thigh, inhaling so deeply and you realize a little too late that his nose is close to where your own pelvis is, close to your crotch. And before you can stop him, he starts licking at your cunt through your pants. Your mouth drops open into a gasp, sparks of pleasure running through your spine as you accidentally widen your stance, his hands coming to grip your sides, your thighs and squeezing, feeling your skin as he pushes your top up. His touch burns hot.

His tongue is all you can focus on for the next minute as he continues to lick, your hands burying themselves in his hair. And when you clench a chunk of hair in your fists, your hips twitching as they rock against his mouth, you can only let out a sharp whine yourself, his own moans vibrating against the fabric. The pants get so wet, you're almost concerned if he hadn't already started pulling them down. Your thighs are hit with the apartment's air conditioner breeze and you push his face back, even as he whimpers, pressing his cheek to your naked leg. ("Soft.. so fucking soft." You can barely hear him mutter.)

"Wilbur," you say, and he looks up at you with those big eyes, his mouth dropped open with his tongue dragging itself up your thigh, coating your skin with a wet warmth. "Wilbur, promise me this won't change anything." His fingers tighten themselves over your skin and he nods fast, words dripping from his lips with promises to be good, good for you and to you.

"Love you so much, god, you're so perfect, you're so warm. So, so warm." He repeats himself, hips rocking again.

You swallow the dread and you tell yourself, things will be okay. Things will go back to normal. Things will be simple again. Wilbur will go back to being your overly affectionate roommate and none of this will mean anything.

Which means you definitely can't fuck him in your bed.

"C'mon then. Your room." He stands up so quick, pulling on your hands and guiding you to the room at the end of the apartment. Even when you start tripping from the pants still around your knees, though he just pulls them down so you can step out of them... where he picks you up with strength you don't know where the fuck it came from just how he presses you against the wall next to the door and moans into your mouth, kissing you and licking your teeth and pressing himself closer and closer.

It's a blur of wet and burning and hot and fuck- but you know the second he's inside you, you feel the stars in your blood, you feel something that's much bigger than you or him, bigger than this apartment or the complex. Maybe that's just how sex is. (How sex is when your bed-mate is someone completely, insanely hot and probably has the sex version of rabies.) He covers your skin in marks, biting them and pistoning his cock inside of your cunt, listening to your needs. Moving as fast as you needed him and and as slow as you needed.

Time continued, and you had to estimate it'd been an hour or so after you let him first test the waters; let him stroke the tip of his cock between your lips and watching as he cried into your hands, kissing his tears away, you did. Because he's a big sap and you're nothing but a good for nothing roommate (-that's in love with him.)

He's not any softer than before, he's still so- so hard. Despite coming twice on your stomach twice (and cleaning his mess every time) he's still so fucking hard it makes it hard to think with how far his cock sinks inside of you.

You know at some point, after it hits the second hour and he's still brutally pounding your cunt to shreds, you feel something twitch the base of his dick. You can hardly speak though, with how you screamed his name into his pillow... soaking the pillowcase with your own spit and gripping it hard as he fucks you again and again. You notice the twitch and it's only when he picks the pace up again, moaning into your shoulder and biting so hard you think the skin breaks, you can feel a stretch happening, something big itching to bury itself into your cunt. You gasp, the sound a scratchy thing as it pops inside, tears falling fast down your cheeks as he is locked inside of you, with his chest against your back and he's mumbling sweet things, promises to fill you up and promises to make you feel good again, promises and more promises.

You can hardly focus as it quickly became too much, your sobbing buries itself into his hand as you lean into his touch, trying to count down from any number but nothing is fucking working.

"Wilbur- what- what the fuck is happening, Wilbur?"

Something between a sob and a moan escapes his own mouth as he leans closer to your ear, "I just- fuck. I just knotted you. It'll- it'll go down in a second. Try not to ah, ah- move." His hand pins your hip down, despite being the only one trying to move. "So, so beautiful." He murmurs and you just let it soak, let the attention and the harsh fucking sink into your skin. There is so much to process. So much to sift through.

That's a tomorrow's problem... and you should probably call in tomorrow.

[gogogodzilla]

day 16, toys

natasha romanoff x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, jealous!reader, use of ball gag, use of double-sided vibrator, reader has electricity powers, slight dom! natasha, takes place during Black Widow, afab reader kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You rested your head against the cool glass of the window as Natasha drove you to a safe house she knew. You’d just lost the only family you ever knew, and the loss still stung deeply in your chest. 

She grabbed your thigh and rubbed soothing circles on it, bringing you out of your thoughts. 

“It’s beautiful out here,” you commented, giving her a small smile. 

“Just wait until you see where we’re staying,” she grinned, and the lilt in her voice made you nervous. 

You’d stayed in some sketchy places before, and maybe you’d gone a little soft lately. But, nervousness gnawed at you regardless. 

As Natasha drove, the area surrounding you became more and more desolate. She came to a stop down a winding path. Your eyes widened as you took in the small metal trailer settled in the middle of a clearing. 

Natasha got out of her seat as you sat bewildered. 

“C’mon, hun,” she urged before shutting the driver’s side door, pistol held at her side. You joined her with a sigh, electricity arcing through your fingers as the both of you approached the trailer. 

Natasha’s footsteps were silent as she stalked toward the door. She opened it with one hand and made her way into the trailer. You followed wordlessly as she scanned the inside of the trailer. Finally, she kicked open the door to the bedroom and chuckled at the man sleeping soundly in the bed. 

You raised a brow and she put a finger to her lips. She leaned over the foot of the bed and tapped the man’s foot, a smile dancing on her lips. He jumped up, eyes flicking between the two of you. 

“You’re in my bed,” she noted, straightening. 

“I’m not even under the covers,” the man defended himself as he slowly got up. He led the two of you toward the front of the trailer. 

They talked for a few moments, and you observed as the man explained all the facilities that came with the trailer. Natasha stood at the bar and thumbed through the various IDs the man provided for both of you. You stood behind her, looking out the window in front of the sink. 

A lull fell over the two, and he leaned in, “Are you okay?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Natasha answered, her voice wavering. You straightened and hovered protectively behind her. 

The man shrugged, “I hear things. Something about the Avengers getting divorced…” 

You scowled, and Natasha placed a placating hand on your thigh. Rick was someone you could trust, she’d said. He’d done her a huge favor by helping the two of you. Still, you didn’t like him poking around in your business. 

Natasha bowed her head for a moment. “It’s fine. Besides, I have all I need right here,” she said, snaking a hand around your hip. A warm feeling swelled in your chest at Natasha’s display of endearment. 

The man’s eyes flicked between the two of you. You’d never made your relationship known to the public, but you also weren’t exactly hiding your feelings for each other. 

“Well,” the man clapped his hands together, “seems like you’re all set. Don’t call me if you need anything.” 

The man headed toward the door, chucking a little at his own joke. You narrowed your eyes at his back as he walked to his own car. Natasha pulled you away from the door, shutting it and blocking your view of the man. 

“No need to get your hackles raised, baby,” she joked, grabbing your chin with one hand. 

You pursed your lips and tugged your chin out of her grasp, pouting. She pulled you to her, bringing you into a tight hug. You stood there for a few moments with your arms at your side. Finally, you relented and wrapped your arms begrudgingly around her.

She released you and pressed a gentle kiss on your lips. “I like it when you get jealous, babe,” she teased before heading out the door to grab your bags from the car. You rolled your eyes before following her. 

Later that night, you sat on Natasha’s bed going through her dresser drawers, curiosity and boredom pushing you forward. Your hand landed on an array of leather attached to a silicone ball neatly coiled in the back of the bottom drawer. Your fingers danced over the gag, insides alight with excitement. You lifted it out of the drawer and nearly jumped out of your skin as Natasha’s footsteps neared. 

She watched you from the doorway, a black plastic bag in one hand and a beer in the other. You raised a brow, “You use this on all the girls you bring here?”

She smirked and moved forward to grab your chin, “Only for your pretty little mouth.” She pressed the bag into your palm, took the gag from you, and set it on the dresser. The bed squeaked slightly as she sat next to you, “I figured that if we’re going to be out here for the foreseeable future, the least we could do is have a little fun.”

You were skeptical, but nonetheless opened the bag. Your hand wrapped around the smooth surface of the small cardboard box and you pulled it out. The box was white with a blue device on the front. You gave Natasha a quizzical look as you attempted to decipher the Norwegian on the back of the box. 

“It’s a vibrator, baby,” she chuckled and your cheeks flamed. Her fingertips flitted over the top of your thigh, and you weren’t sure if it was nervousness or excitement bubbling in your chest. 

The bed creaked slightly as you both shifted and before you knew it her lips were on yours. You’d thrown the box to the side, too focused on the taste of Natasha. The air around you crackled with tension, and Natasha’s hands drifted up to cup your face and bring you impossibly closer. 

You scooted back, your lips still tangled with Natasha’s as you reclined on the plush mattress. She threw a leg over your abdomen, straddling you and trapping you between her thighs. Not that you were complaining, of course. 

She gripped your chin and turned your head, allowing her to brush feverish kisses along the soft skin of your neck. Your breath caught in your throat as she sucked a lovebite against your pulse point, and your hands ventured under the hem of her shirt. 

She trailed kisses up the side of your neck. A peck on your jaw, then your cheek, and finally your lips. You sit up and tug her shirt up and over her head, your lips immediately returning to hers. 

Your hands snake around her back and undo the clasp of her bra, which she eagerly slid off. Your fingers trailed up to fondle her breasts, and her hips jutted against your own. 

You pulled away panting and tapped her thigh, “Let’s get these off.” 

Her lips curved into a smile, “Look at you being bossy.” Nevertheless, she hopped off of you long enough to remove her jeans. The bed sunk under her weight as she crawled forward and helped remove the clothes that were separating her from your flushed skin.

Natasha pushed you backward and hovered over you.

“So perfect,” she murmured as her eyes raked over your naked form. She moved to touch where she could, tracing her hands over the column of your throat, down to the valley of your breasts, over your ribs, then over your hip bones. A soft whine left you as she avoided everywhere you needed her. 

She tsked and leaned over you to grab the ball gag. “As much as I love those pretty little noises you make…” she trailed off, and you opened your mouth for her. She was gentle as she clasped the buckle behind your head. Your lips wrapped around the silicone ball, and you took a deep breath through your nose. She took the vibrator out of its packaging, her eyes glued to yours. 

 Her hands skirted over the insides of your thighs as she positioned herself between them. She hooked her arms around your thighs, keeping you in place. She pressed kisses along your inner thighs, and you bucked your hips against her grasp. 

She pulled you towards her and licked a tentative stripe through your folds. Your whine reverberated against the ball gag. Her fingertips dug into your thighs as she latched onto your core. You arched your back against the mattress as her tongue expertly circled your clit before dipping down to tease your entrance. 

You tangled a hand into her scarlet locks, aching for something to ground you. She kept her plush lips attached to your clit as she slid a finger through your folds, gathering your slick. 

Slowly, she sunk a finger inside of you and you gasped as much as you could against the gag. She pumped her finger a few times before swiftly adding another one. Her pace was brutal, quickly rocking her fingers against you while her tongue continued its ministrations. 

She pulled away and the whine that escaped you was almost pathetic. She placed a placating kiss on your inner thigh before grabbing the vibrator and running it through your folds. 

You bucked your hips and clenched against nothing, desperate for anything she’d give you. Drool was slipping out the sides of your mouth, and you huffed a breath through your nose. 

She turned the vibrator on and circled it around your clit, and your hips jumped against her. The vibrator quickly replaced her fingers inside you, and you felt your release rapidly building within you. 

Your breath caught in your throat as Natasha lifted her hips and lined the other end of the vibrator up with her entrance. She threw her head back and let out a soft moan as she sunk down onto the vibrator. 

She grabbed the backs of your thighs and snapped her hips against yours. You let out a breathy moan against the gag, and she reached down to knead your breasts. She trailed her fingers up to wrap lightly around your neck as she ground against you. 

Your moans were increasing in pitch and frequency, and the air seemed to crackle around you. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” she panted as her her hips stuttered against your own. You furiously nodded your head as that familiar coil tightened inside you, seconds away from snapping. 

You gripped her forearm as your orgasm ripped throughout your body. The energy within the air made your hair stand on edge, and a high-pitched whine escaped you as the ceiling light above you brightened and then blew with a loud pop. 

Natasha jolted against you but continued her movements as she followed you over the edge. Once pleasure edged into overstimulation she pulled out of you, panting. 

She turned off the vibrator as she slowly pulled it out of you. You arched your back at the loss, and she rubbed a soothing hand across your thigh. She hovered over you to undo the buckle of the gag. 

Natasha pressed a kiss against your temple and then your jaw as she set the gag to the side. “Did so good for me, baby,” she praised, trailing her fingertips up your side. 

“That was fun,” you grinned. Your gaze moved up to survey the damage you did to the light. “Got any spares?” 

Natasha laughed and shook her head, “Nope.” 

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Guess we gotta head into town.” 

“Yep.” 

[jasmines-library]

Lost and found.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 20. Prompt: “You will regret touching them.” Fandom: Batfam

Summary: After falling into a trap, you are captured by Scarecrow and exposed to his fear toxin. When your older brothers arrive to help you, your fear gets the better of you.

Warnings: Fear, disappointment, beating, hurt.

Word count: 2K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You hadn’t been living with Bruce that long. A few years. If that. You were the baby of the family, younger than Damian and in some ways you supposed he resented you for it; always narrowing his eyes at you when passing him the hallway. You often felt estranged from the rest of the boys, never fully understanding their inside jokes or nightly routines. You never felt as though you belonged despite the fact that the older boys had tried to make you feel welcome. 

The one person you had managed to connect with was Alfred. When your time wasn’t occupied by training or patrol it was often spent curled up in the study with a book and excitedly explaining it to him. Reading was one of your passions; it allowed you to escape the harsh realities of the cruel world and alfred was glad to hear you rant, it often resulted in him mirroring the smile on your face. 

It was a late autumn night when the call came in. You were lounging on the window seat watching the rain batter against the glass. Your brothers were out on patrol and you were the only one left home, so you floated over to the phone, answering it and bringing it to your ear. 

“Hello?”

There was static on the other end of the line, followed by a shuffling. And then came the voice of a child. “Please… please help me.”

You began to pull on your suit, listening closely to the girl speaking over the phone. 

“My friend she-”

“Calm down.” you told her. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

She rattled off her location through sobs. “Please hurry.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” You reassured her. 

Once you had calmed the girl, you slipped out of the exit of the batcave and began to race through town. It was a quiet night. The rain had pushed many people inside, so the lack of people on the streets really threw you off, but you decided to warn your brothers where you were going, just in case. 

“Nightwing?” You asked over the comms, hoping that he wasn’t too occupied to answer. 

“Raven?” He wrinkled his nose. “What are you doing out?”

“A call came in. A young girl said her friend was cornered by a group of armed criminals. I’ve got it handled, but I thought I'd give you a heads up.”

“Copy that Raven.” 

The line went silent again as you continued to push your way into the city until you reached the location that the scared girl gave you over the line. Only, there was no one in sight. You called out into the darkness but there was no reply. And then, there was a sharp prick to the side of your neck. 

~

When you awoke, your hands and hands were bound together by old rope that scratched at your skin. The floor was dank and dusty and your mask had been torn from your face. You could feel a small nic along your eyebrow, and your entire body ached. 

Without full use of your hands, you struggled to sit up when you noticed the figure leaning against the wall across the room. Tall and masked with a straw hat, he loomed over you, observing you from afar. You used your legs to inch yourself away from the humanoid figure, but he outpaced you, squatting down in front of you and trailing a gloved hand along your jaw.

“Hiya little birdie.”

“Get off of me.” You spat.

Scarecrow tutted, but removed his hand. “I’m glad to see you. You see, I've been watching you for some time. I’ve seen how miserable  you’ve been. And I've been waiting for a chance to get you alone. I have to say though, it was much easier than I anticipated.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The villain chided. “Mm, I have something more fun in mind. You see, I've been experimenting with something new. Well, new and improved. You see, my old fear toxin, it was good but you couldn’t really feel. If you know what I mean? So I did some experimenting and I've finally created something I've just been dying to test out. So I figured, why not have some fun while I'm at it?”

“They’re coming for me.” You told him with narrowed eyes. “And you’re gonna be a dead man?”

He tilted his head, resting his hand on the door before he stepped out and shut it completely. “Are they?”

He bolted the door shut, leaving you in the dimly lit room where a thick, green smog began to billow through the vents. You tried to back away from the smoke, but it surrounded you, cascading down all four walls. You took a deep breath, taking in all of the air you could, but it didn’t last long, eventually you couldn’t stand the burning in your lungs and you were forced to inhale the substance, choking as it filled your lungs. 

When the green began to fade away, vanishing into the air, you were left alone in the silence. Though it wasn’t long before the door was broken down by heavy pounding, and the masked face of your brother burst through the door. 

“Y/N”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Jason. Oh thank god, I thought you weren’t going to come. He told me that you none of you would and I-”

“Shut up.”

You stilled. “What?”

“I said shut up!” He kicked you hard to the ribs eliciting a yelp from you. 

“Jason…?”

“God, are you as stupid as you look? Shut it.” Jason kicked you harder, each one growing in intensity and followed by a snarky remark. You tucked your head to your chest, pressing your hands tightly to your ears until eventually, Jason vanished into a cloud of green and you were plunged back into emptiness. 

“Oh god… Y/N.”

It was Tim’s voice, shaky as he raced towards you. His hands gripped your arms as he forced them away from your ears. You half glanced up at him, doing a double take when you saw the look set upon his face. It was tender, but laced with worry. You wanted to reach out into his arms, but you were hesitant. 

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He bent down and removed the frayed rope from your wrists, you rubbed them. Tim then swung his arm around your shoulder to help you up, but you only made it a few steps towards the door when he flung you over his shoulder, sending you plummeting to the floor with a sickening crack as your skull collided with the ground. Your head throbbed as blood dripped from the crack that had opened in the back of your head. 

“Silly girl.” Tim laughed. “You really think we care enough to come and help you? After you were foolish enough to fall for his trap? You always mess things up Y/N. You’re a burden. Nothing more. Bruce’ll be glad to finally be rid of you.”

“Tim, Please-"

He reeled his fist back to land the final blow. You scrambled backwards, raising your arm above your face to protect yourself, but no pain came. And Time was gone. 

Fat, hot tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time that Damian entered the room. He narrowed his eyes at you like he normally did. They were so full of hate. You closed your eyes, biting down on your trembling lip and sinking against the wall. 

“Get up.” He demanded, voice thick with venom. 

You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. 

“Damian… please don’t. I don’t need to hear how-”

“I hate you.”

It was only three words, but they cut right through you like a bullet. 

“I hate you.” He gritted out. “You ruined everything. We were fine without you. We were happy. And then you came along and you- you took all of that away. You’re a disappointment. And I hate you.”

Damian didn’t move to hurt you, but you supposed in some ways that's what hurt the most. Not the pain and the beating, no. That’s not what you were scared of. It was disappointing your family. You grimaced as Damian left, waiting for the cycle to start again.  

~~~ 

Damian didn’t think he had ever ran faster in his life. His boots slapped against the concrete as he raced alongside his older brothers. He had never been more scared than at the lack of your voice over the comms. The four of them had been trying you for hours but had had no such luck. That was until Alfred managed to snag your location on the computer. And so the four of them ran. 

Dick’s heart thundered against his ribs. He feared what Scarecrow had done to you. He had heard the stories; witnessed the horrors. But he couldn’t bear to fathom what your mind would conjure up. You had seen too much. 

When he pushed his way into the warehouse, it was dark. And silent. The four of them kept their eyes peeled for a sign of anything, but there was no sign of you or Scarecrow. That was until Damian spotted the frame of the door poking out from behind a metal cabinet. It took two of them to haul the heavy piece of furniture away. It squealed awfully as it scraped across the floor. When they pushed the door open they had to squint to see you hidden in the corner of the room. Your eyes were wide and you were hyperventilating at the sight of them.

“Y/N?”

“No, no…” You shook your head, trying to back further into the wall when he took a step towards you. 

Jason tried too, but it only worked you up more. 

“Not all of you…please. Please…”

Jason knelt down beside you, reaching to touch you gently, but you flinched away.

“It’s not going to work.” A voice laughed out from the doorway. 

The brother’s whipped round to face the scarecrow. 

“What have you done to her?” Tim spat. 

He chuckled deeply. “She’s been exposed to my new fear toxin. See, I don’t know what she’s  been seeing but whatever it is, you guys are clearly an important part of it.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “You are going to regret touching her.”

They surged forwards, pinning him towards the wall. He fought back, but was no match for the anger-fueled vigilantes. When he slumped to the ground, they were tasked with the even more challenging job of getting you out. But when they moved towards you, tears rolled fatly down your face as you sobbed. 

“Please…” You shook. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t hurt me please.”

Damian froze. “What?  

“You’ve done enough…please.” 

You flinched as the youngest of your brothers laid a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/N? It’s us. We’re real, I promise.”

You shook your head. “...no”

“We’re not gonna hurt you, kid.”

“You already have…”

Their hearts stopped simultaneously and Dick swallowed thickly. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Everything went black as his fist collided with your head.

~~~

You sat up abruptly. You were back in the safety of your own room, tucked away in your bed. Although you were more aware of what had happened, you couldn’t shake the fear that rolled over you. But you weren’t alone when you woke up. You were surrounded by a sea of familiar faces.

“Y/N?” Dick asked when he noticed your eyes were open.

“Yeah.” You murmured groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You just shrugged meekly.

“Oh y/n/n we were so worried.” Damian said. His tenderness was foreign. 

“What did you see?” Dick asked hesitantly. 

“All of you. Disappointed in me.”

“Oh kid.” Tim looked at you with sad eyes. “We would never be disappointed in you. We love you so, so much. And we couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“But I fell for his trap. I-”

“Uh Uh. You did what you thought was right. How were you supposed to know?”

Again, you just shrugged. 

“We’re proud of you, little wing. So proud.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 19 ⛤ DAY 21 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[melefim]

Swearing in Dead Boy Detectives: Fuck

Overview:

Fuck was said a total of 90 times, in all 8 episodes and by 15 different characters.

Uses Per Episode:

Fuck is said in all 8 episodes of the show, one of only 4 words to do so.

Episode 1: 7

Episode 2: 5

Episode 3: 13

Episode 4: 5

Episode 5: 8

Episode 6: 13

Episode 7: 16

Episode 8: 23

Uses Per Character:

Fuck is said by 15 different characters, more than any other word.

Edwin: 2

Charles: 5

Crystal: 20

Jenny: 18

David: 12

Esther: 6

The Cat King: 6

Tabby Cat: 2

Calico Cat: 1

Litty: 8

Kingham: 5

Brad: 2

Hunter: 1

Twitchy Richie: 1

Girl in Crystal’s Memory 2 (Club Fight): 1

Percent of Total:

Fuck is used 90 times, which is 27.9% of cursing in the show.

Variations:

There are 7 variations of the word used in the show, with the most popular being Fuck, which was used 42 times.

Fuck: 42

Fucking: 37

Fucked-up: 7

Fucked: 1

Fucker: 1

Fuckboy: 1

Mindfuck: 1

Rankings:

Total Uses: Fuck comes in first for total uses, being said 90 times.

Number of Episodes: Fuck is one of only four curse words that is said in all 8 episodes- the others are Shit, Ass, and God.

Most Uses of a Word in a Single Episide: Fuck holds 5 of the top 11 spots.

Most Uses of a Word by a Single Character in One Episode: Fuck took the title here as well, being said 10 times by Jenny in episode 8.

Total Characters: Fuck comes in first for number of characters to say it, with 15 using it throughout the show.

It is one of only two words said by the main trio of Edwin, Charles, and Crystal, the other being Damn.

It is one of only four words said by both Edwin and Charles—the others being Damn, Bloody, and Bloody Hell.

Favorite Word: Fuck is the favorite word of 7 different characters: Jenny (18), David (12), Litty (8), The Cat King (6), Kingham (5), Tabby Cat (2), and Brad (2).

Curse Word Variations: It comes in first for most variations, with 7.

Lines:

Episode 1:

Charles: Edwin, hurry the fuck up!

David: I'll fucking gut you! (x2 while possessing Crystal)

Crystal: It's just a stupid fucking name.

Tabby Cat: Fuck you. I'm not telling you nothing about that house or the witch inside.

Crystal: So maybe he's our fucking demon now!

Edwin: Police don't know what to do with a fucking witch!

Episode 2:

Litty: Little ghost fucker!

Litty: I'm gonna tell you something, because I think you really need to hear it, okay? You should go fuck yourself.

Litty: You know what? You can take that sweater and you can shove it up your ass. Do you have any clue how powerful we are? We are fucking gods!

Kingham: You better hope we never get out of here or we are going to fuck you up, like 'brass knuckles and mace' fuck you up!

Episode 3:

Jenny: It's a super fucked-up story so I'm gonna need some coffee

Crystal: What the actual fuck?

Calico Cat: At least we don't have to go inside. This house is fucked up.

Crystal: Just what the fuck is it?

Litty: Looks like they left you behind because you fucking suck.

Litty: They're all gonna fucking die.

Litty: We were fucking kidding, can't you take a fucking joke?

Litty: Stupid fucking bitch!

Charles: I'm just sick of watching this asshole kill his family a million times for no fucking reason. Tried it your way, and it did nothing. Sod it. Let's try mine. (x2 due to time loop)

Charles: His dad was bad, Edwin. Royally fucked-up bad.

Crystal: I am done wasting my energy on your fuckboy bullshit.

Episode 4:

Jenny: Ok, so you're what? You're just, you're not gonna leave until I explain this even though it's private and go the fuck away?

Tabby Cat: Fuck off. The kid had a sardine.

Crystal: You fucked with my head, I'm gonna fuck with yours.

Charles: Every day, I'm fucking smiling.

Episode 5:

Twitchy Richie: The fuck is this?

Jenny: Oh my fuck.

Crystal: You walk around acting like the sun always shines, and then you lost your shit while beating the Night Nurse. Edwin and I are walking on eggshells around you instead of just saying 'what the actual fuck?'

Jenny: What the fuck, Maxine?

Hunter: Oh, fuck that, you whiny little bitch.

Brad: It's a fucking tragedy that we died, okay?

Brad: What the fuck does that mean?

David: I'm a demon! And I always get what I fucking want!

Episode 6:

Crystal: I want to keep this demon the fuck out.

Jenny: Just like whatever the fuck I am doing is none of yours.

Crystal: It's like he's fucking haunting me.

David: Oh no, I'm so fucking scared.

Charles: Don't listen to him Crystal, it's just some sort of a mindfuck, innit?

David: Why the fuck do you smell so weak?

David: What the fuck did you do?

Crystal: I gave up my powers, OK? I got you out of my fucking head.

David: Now, she's just another fucking terrified lump of human flesh!

Crystal: I am nothing special, So why don't you just leave me the fuck alone?

David: Did you really think that you could beat me with a fucking cricket bat?

The Cat King: Do you hear me? I will stop fucking playing nice!

Esther: Teeth Face, what the fuck?

Episode 7:

The Cat King: Why the fuck are you here?

Esther: I know you blew up Monty's spot, you little fucking snitch.

The Cat King: I don't give a fuck, OK? End of audience.

The Cat King: That was my third life, you bitch. I only get nine. Would you fuck off? Fuck!

Crystal: Fucking bullshit, like I can't help.

Crystal: God, that's fucking insane.

Jenny: Fucking kid.

Jenny: What the fuck?

David: Why the fuck would you even want that?

David: What the fuck did you do? Where are we?

David: Maybe I was just fucking with you.

David: Fuck! Fine, you got your memories back.

Jenny: What the fuck was that?

Esther: You, you.. you think that you're the only one who's ever been screwed over? You're not. I fucking deserve this!

Edwin: That is so fucking stupid, It's unbelievable!

Episode 8:

Girl in Crystal’s Memory 2 (Club Fight): Get your fucking hands off my boyfriend, you slut!

Crystal: Oh, my God. Oh, I'm a fucking awful person. Oh, God, I'm the worst.

Jenny: What the actual fuck?

Jenny: And why the ever-loving fuck is my hair braided?

Jenny: Fuck that! That is bullshit!

Jenny: No fucking way.

Kingham: "No fucking way" to you. "No fucking way" to that side braid. What the fuck is that?

Jenny: Fucking fuck!

Jenny: Screw it. I'd rather know my own life, no matter how fucked-up.

Jenny: Jesus, fuck!

Crystal: Fuck! (Esther has the boys)

Jenny: I figure a meat cleaver can cut up a witch, but what the fuck do I know anymore?

Crystal: Because whatever fucked-up little thing you have going on with Edwin, you must care about him a little.

The Cat King: Fuck me. Did you even listen to my story?

Esther: Oh my God, my own sacrificial knife? I'm impressed. But I'm not fucking around that you're also gonna patch that wall before you die too.

Esther: Who the fuck are you?

Esther: What the fuck? Hey hey hey no! What did you just do?

Jenny: God, that sounds so fucking procedural.

Crystal: I don't have to give up my new fucked-up life while I'm trying to sort out my old fucked-up life.

Notes:

Not included:

In episode 1, Crystal flips off Edwin in the malt shop.

In episode 2, Litty flips off Charles, Edwin, and Crystal with both hands, and then later Kingham and Litty both flip off Edwin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More Dead Boy Detectives Swearing Posts:

Masterlist

Swearing by Episode

Swearing by Character

Swearing by Word

All Swearing Posts

And if you like lists of things like I do, you can check out my other Dead Boy Detectives ones here!

When Charles’ Shirt Colors Change

George Rextrew’s Edwin comic inspo board

Full soundtrack with timestamps

Moves, Incidents, and Cases Masterlist

First pass at finding where the songs in the score are used- full post with timestamps in progress

[sincerelyyycece]

my family thinks we're dating.

Accompanied by James Potter as a guest at his family gathering, you find yourself developing newfound emotions for him.

sincerelyyycece © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

"My family thinks we’re dating," said a voice, interrupting my train of thought. I raised my eyes to see James. "What?" I inquired, raising my brows. "They think we’re dating," he stated again. I notice a couple of silhouettes snickering behind him. I turn around to see his relatives spying on us. James and I were attending his small family gathering. He invited me as a friend because he did not want to go alone, and I figured I would keep him company. They were clearly making every effort to remain undetected while spying on us.

I shook my head and laughed. "Your family's something, huh?" I joked. He mutters. "I knew bringing you here was a bad idea.” I laughed at his reaction. "I see where you got your nosiness from," I joked. He shook his head and buried his face in his hands. "Anyway, why does your family think we’re dating?" I switched the subject. "You’re the first girl I have ever brought to a gathering like this.” My brow furrowed in surprise. "Really? Not even your precious Lilypad?” I teased.

"Nope," he said as he sipped his drink, adding, "I never really saw her as a long-term thing, you know?" I responded with a slow nod. "Besides, it is such a pain." I snorted. "If you loved her, it’s not a pain," I explained. "Yeah, well, I did love her; I just didn’t see her in my future," he explained. "How come you brought me here when we’re not even dating?" I wondered. "I see you in my future," he ends, making eye contact.

I had no idea we were leaning into each other until he abruptly broke the silence with his voice and moved his head away. "You’re my friend, and you’re clearly a part of my future; friendships can last for years," he continues. I swallowed and sat up straight. We were sitting in awkward silence when Euphemia yelled from a distance. "Have some dessert, my dears!" He stands up and takes his cup. "Coming!" he responds. He gave me a look and motioned towards his house. I immediately understood and shook my head. “I’ll have some later.” He nods and walks inside. I drifted off after he left.

I recall his words from earlier, his voice echoing in the back of my mind. Our friendship has been going on for years. I can not see myself feeling anything for James. I creased my brow at the thought. But what if...? My eyes widen, and I shake my head. "Stop, Y/N, stop," I mumbled. "He is your friend! Nothing else!" I chastised myself. "Hey," James called from a distance. I turn to face him. He raised his eyebrows but did not question my actions. "They’re calling you already," James said, motioning inside. "Oh yeah, okay," I said as I stood up and straightened myself. Clear your mind, Y/N. I sighed to myself. I entered his home and smiled at his parents, grateful for their hospitality.

He is nothing more than a pal. You are simply very close friends. There is nothing strange about him taking you to meet his family. He is your friend, I am his friend, and we are friends. That is all there is to it. I considered it sternly. Just…friends. I continued, his words lingering in my mind.

As I joined the lively gathering inside, the aroma of freshly baked desserts filled the air, momentarily distracting me from the whirlwind of thoughts that had occupied my mind just moments before. James's family welcomed me with warm smiles and insisted that I try every homemade delicacy they had prepared.

As the evening unfolded, I conversed with James's family, sharing stories and laughter that echoed through the cosy living room. James and I seamlessly transitioned between the roles of friends and family, and I couldn't help but appreciate the genuine connection we had built over the years.

At one point, James's best pal, Sirius, approached me with a mischievous grin. "You know," he whispered, "you and James make a cute couple." I chuckled nervously, dismissing the notion. "We're just friends, Sirius," I clarified, though his playful expression hinted at a deeper understanding.

The night continued with shared laughter, board games, and the warmth of newfound friendships. As we all gathered for a group photo, James put his arm around my shoulder, and the camera captured a moment frozen in time—a snapshot of friendship and camaraderie.

Later in the evening, James and I sat on the porch, enjoying the cool breeze. The atmosphere was serene, and the distant laughter from inside formed a backdrop to our quiet conversation.

James turned to me with a genuine smile. "Thanks for being here today, Y/N. It means a lot." I returned the smile, appreciating the sincerity in his words. "Anytime, James. Your family is wonderful, and I'm grateful to be a part of this." He nodded in agreement, and for a moment, we sat in comfortable silence.

As the night wore on, James walked me to my car, the sky painted with hues of midnight blue. Before I left, he looked at me with a hint of vulnerability. "I hope my family's assumption didn't make things awkward for you."

I reassured him with a laugh, "Not at all. It's just amusing, that's all." But as I drove home, the words lingered in my mind, and I couldn't shake the awareness that the line between friendship and something more had blurred, if only for a moment.

In the days that followed, I found myself reflecting on the evening and questioning the nature of my feelings towards James. Was it just a case of friendly banter from his family, or did it tap into something deeper that I hadn't acknowledged?

As the weeks passed, James and I continued our routine of shared adventures and laughter, and while everything seemed unchanged on the surface, a subtle shift had occurred—one that left me wondering if, perhaps, the boundaries of our friendship were evolving in a way I hadn't anticipated.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 9) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 4.2k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake tell Phoenix and Coyote about the baby and spend some more time together.

Series Master List

Master List

After telling your brother, Coyote and Phoenix were next on your list. And after they knew, then you could stop hiding it from everyone, so you and Jake were both anxious to finally get to that point. The secrecy was more stressful than anything else, and you were ready to be free of it. 

So, the day after the dinner with your side of the family, you and Jake headed over to Phoenix and Coyote’s house for lunch. 

“You can handle this one,” you told Jake as the two of you got out of Jake’s truck. 

“You sure?”

“Coyote’s your family. And I’ve had enough of telling families this weekend,” you replied softly. 

Jake led the way up to the side door and opened it without even knocking. Holding it open for you, Jake followed you inside. The two of you made your way into the kitchen. 

“You know, where I come from, people knock before entering someone else’s house,” Phoenix commented as she stacked some plates.

“Where’s Javy?” Jake asked in return, causing Phoenix to roll her eyes. 

“He’s outside at the grill.” 

You nudged Jake in the side and gestured at the stuff that Phoenix had clearly stacked up to bring outside for lunch. Jake helped Phoenix carry all of the stuff outside and handed you the roll of napkins before you could reach for anything heavier. Javy stood at the grill and grinned as the three of you stepped outside. 

“I knew I heard your car.”

“And I’m remembering why we didn’t give him a key,” Phoenix stated, setting the plates down. 

The four of you, though it was mostly split between Jake and Coyote and then you and Phoenix, made conversation as Coyote finished up. But when the four of you sat around the table, the topic of conversation shifted. 

“So, you guys are back together then?” Coyote asked, glancing between the two of you. “When did that happen?”

“Not too long after we talked,” Jake replied, taking the lead.

“And did Rooster finally find out about you guys?” Phoenix questioned, causing you to nod. “How’d he react?”

“Like I knew he would,” you stated, leaning back in your seat. “Poorly.” 

“Well, you knew that was coming,” Phoenix pointed out, causing you to shrug your shoulders.  

“Yeah, we did,” you agreed, turning to Jake.

“He wasn’t exactly happy about our relationship. And then he found out that she’s pregnant and he wanted to kill me,” Jake explained, dropping the information bomb on top of Coyote and Phoenix casually. 

“You’re pregnant?” Coyote asked you suddenly, looking shocked at the news. 

“I knew it,” Phoenix stated at the same time.

“How did you know?” you asked confused. 

“I didn’t see you drink during the wedding,” Phoenix started off with. “Then Rooster mentioned that you were throwing up a lot. And then you started wearing a lot of dresses and loose clothes and things with big patterns. You were clearly hiding something.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Coyote asked, causing Phoenix to turn to her husband. 

“I wasn’t going to say anything until I actually knew that she was pregnant,” Phoenix stated as if it was obvious. Shaking her head at her husband’s playfully offended expression, Phoenix turned back to you. But when the two of you locked eyes again, her expression noticeably softened. “So, how do you feel about it?” 

“I’m doing a lot better,” you replied, nodding along. “It feels nice to finally share it with everyone.”

“How did Mav take the news?”

“Well, Hangman’s still standing, at least,” Coyote joked, causing Jake to scoff. 

“Mav it took pretty well, actually, all things considered,” you explained quietly.

“How far along are you now?” Coyote questioned, turning to you. 

“About fifteen weeks now,” you stated, folding your hands over your abdomen.

“And you and the baby are healthy, right?” Phoenix added, causing you to smile. 

“Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Well, congrats.”

Coyote grabbed three beers and a ginger ale for you so that the four of you could celebrate. You clinked your drinks together and shared smiles as Coyote made a toast. 

“To Baby Ser—Brad—” he cut himself off twice, realizing that he should have asked beforehand.

“Bradshaw-Seresin,” you suggested, sharing a look with Jake, who nodded in return. 

“To Baby Bradshaw-Seresin!” 

The four of you finished up lunch and Javy got up first, dragging Jake with him inside to put away the food. But it was clearly a tactic to split you and Jake up for a moment so that Coyote and Phoenix could actually speak freely to both of you. 

“So, you’re having a baby with Hangman,” Phoenix stated, causing you to nod slowly. “And he looks pretty calm, actually. And happy.”

“Who, Jake?” 

“Yeah. Has he been calm the whole time?” 

“Pretty much,” you replied softly. “Why? Were you expecting him to freak out?”

“I think most guys would freak out in this situation,” Phoenix commented, taking a sip from her beer. “And you guys broke up.” 

“Well, can you break up if you were technically never together?” you asked Phoenix.

“And are you together now?”

“Yes and sort of no.”

“What the hell does that mean? Has he asked you out or not? Have you put a label on it?”

“Co-parents?” you suggested. 

“Alright,” Phoenix sighed, letting the question go. “Well, what couple-y things have you two been doing?”

“We’re thinking about moving in together, to Jake’s apartment, once my lease is up.” 

“That makes sense,” Phoenix agreed. She paused for a moment before asking, “Have the two of you guys . . . you know . . . since you found out about the baby?” 

“Have we what?”

“Fucked,” Phoenix stated bluntly.

“Jesus Christ, Nat!”

“Well?”

“No, we haven’t,” you stated honestly, looking down at your fingers. “We haven’t even kissed.” 

“And?” Phoenix asked, reading your expression.

“And what?”

“Do you want to do that with him?”

“I . . .” You glanced into the house where Jake and Javy were talking before turning back to Phoenix. Biting the inside of your cheek, you lowered your hands to your lap. “Well, you know how pregnancy impacts your hormones?”

“Obviously.”

“And do you ever feel more . . . pent up at certain times of the month?” you asked, your cheeks growing warm. “Well, it’s sort of been like that.” 

“Oh shit,” Phoenix stated, causing you to hold your head in your hands with embarrassment. “How bad?”

“Well, it’s not great,” you huffed, picking your head up. “And I mean, if we’re going to move in with each other, I can’t just be . . . taking care of myself in our bed when he’s right next to me.”

“I might have a solution.”

“What?” you asked, perking up. 

“Ask him to help out,” Phoenix stated, making an obscene gesture with her hands. 

“Nat!”

You grabbed her hands from across the table, causing her to scoff at you. Lowering her hands, Phoenix shot you a look. 

“Just talk to him, for fucks sake. He doesn’t seem like the type to say ‘no’ to that.”

“What if it complicates things?”

“You’re already pregnant with his baby. How much more complicated than that can it get?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, holding a hand to your head. “It's just starting to run smoother. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“You know that if you or Hangman need anything, we’re here for you guys, right?”

“We know,” you assured her, shooting her a small smile. “Thanks.”

“And I can try to talk to Rooster if you want.”

“I think Emma’s got it handled,” you stated, causing Phoenix to nod with a proud smirk. 

“I’ll leave it to her to have that conversation with him.” Phoenix took another sip from her beer as her smirk dropped. “But, word of advice? Have more serious conversations with Hangman sooner rather than later.”

“Why?” you asked, confused. 

“There’s talk of some of us being deployed soon.” 

“Oh,” you replied softly, rubbing your small bump to soothe yourself. “I guess you guys are sort of overdue, now that I think about it.” 

“I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.”

“No, I know,” you assured her, forcing a smile. “Just more . . . complications.”

Meanwhile, inside the house, Jake and Coyote were across from each other at the kitchen island. Coyote stood tall, resting his hands on the counter top in a way that showed that he was steady and strong. But Jake, on the other hand, was sinking a bit further into his seat the longer that he sat there.  

“Are you okay?” Coyote asked quietly. “Really, are you okay with all of this, Jake?”

“I’m fucking terrified,” Jake replied, picking his head up slowly.

“It’s a big step.” Coyote glanced towards where you and Phoenix were sitting. “What happened after we talked?”

“I went over to her apartment to talk. Rooster and Maverick were there and I had to sit through the most awkward dinner of my life. And then when I went to the bathroom to try and calm down, I found a wrapper for prenatal vitamins.” 

“That’s how you found out that she was pregnant?”

“Yeah. Really shitty isn’t it?” Jake replied dryly. “And then I freaked out and left and she came over to my apartment the next day. We talked, she invited me to her appointment, and we’ve been focusing on telling her family and trying to get to know each other better.” 

“And how’s that been going?”

“Sometimes it feels natural, sometimes it doesn’t.” 

“Are you guys getting married? Moving in together? Actually getting together?” 

“We’re not getting married.” When Coyote looked at him with a knowing expression, Jake continued, “We’re going to move into my apartment together once her lease is up. And we are together. Just not like a lot of people are.” 

“So, you guys haven’t done any . . .” Javy trailed off, earning a look from Jake. “It’s a relevant question! You had to do it to get her pregnant in the first place.” Javy reached over to grab his phone. “Which reminds me, I need to pick up more condoms.”

“No, we haven’t,” Jake stated, ignoring Javy’s gaze.

“And do you want to?” Jake shot Coyote a look, causing him to raise a hand. “I know, I know, stupid question.” Coyote straightened up some more and asked, “So how did the dinner go with her family?”

“Rooster was ready to knock my teeth out.”

“Not shocking.”

“No, but he was acting like a little bitch. At least the secrecy is over, but I have a feeling that he’s going to be a little bitch for the rest of his life.”

Jake tapped his finger on the countertop, his mind wandering to something that Rooster said yesterday. Jake turned back to Coyote with a more withdrawn expression.

“What do you know about Connor?”

“Connor who?”

“Her ex.”

“Oh, the fiancé,” Coyote drawled with a bit of sass. “Why the hell do you care?”

“Rooster mentioned that they were together for five years.”

“And?”

“That’s a long time.”

“So? He’s not here. And she broke up with him. And I doubt that she’s even reached out to him since.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s been running around with you.” Coyote reached for his beer, “And from the little comments that Nat told me about him, he’s not someone that you should be stressing about.”

“Because?”

“He was a boring prick who tried to tell her what she wanted—Nat’s words, not mine—which is why she broke up with him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Jake sighed, reaching for his own beer. 

“And have you told her about them?” Coyote asked after a moment.

“What do you think?” 

“Jake,” Coyote sighed, causing Jake to look away from him, “you have to tell her some of it.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re having a baby together,” Coyote stressed. “That’s a huge commitment. Literally, the biggest commitment that two people could make. You’re tied to each other for the rest of your lives.” 

“I know that, Javy,” Jake replied back forcefully.

Coyote picked his head up and moved to speak when the door opened and you and Phoenix headed inside. And the conversation ended right then and there when you and Phoenix walked over. 

~~~~~

Once Phoenix and Coyote were aware of your pregnancy, you and Jake stopped hiding it. You wore clothes that accentuated rather than hid your bump. You got a lot of unsolicited advice, as did Jake, but you were quick to accept Sarah Kazansky’s advice when she offered it. And you and Jake started the process of moving in together. 

“I guess that I can get rid of a lot of this crap,” you commented, digging through your apartment. “I won’t be needing them.” 

“You don’t want to put them in the storage unit?” 

“No, I think that between Mav’s little house and Bradley’s house, we won’t need it anymore. And besides, half of this crap is stuff that I just bought on a whim,” you replied, tossing some more things into cardboard boxes. “And you already have your own sets of stuff and if we move into a house together, we could just buy new ones together if we really wanted.” 

Tossing some old decorations that you didn’t even remember having, you looked up to see Jake wrapping up your framed photos.

“How was work today?” you asked conversationally.

“The usual. Your brother’s still avoiding me.” 

“I guess that’s better than the two of you fighting,” you sighed, turning back to the closet. Pulling out some more crap, you stared down at your hands. “Any talk of deployments or anything like that?” 

“Not today, no,” Jake answered honestly. “But Cyclone seems to be in the middle of planning something.” 

“Do you think you’ll get called up?” you asked, turning around to face him. 

Jake looked up from the photo that he was wrapping, which just so happened to be one of only three photos in existence of the full Bradshaw family before Goose died. Seeing the nerves under the mask that you were forcing yourself to wear, he gently placed the photo down on the table and turned to face you. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I mean, I’ll try to avoid it, but . . .” 

“I understand,” you assured him quietly. “I grew up around the Navy. I get it.” 

Jake nodded slowly, wincing at the defeated tone in your voice, before glancing down at the photo that he was wrapping. He had never really seen a photo of Goose before, minus a small one in his file, but Jake felt like the man was staring him down through the glass. Turning back to you, Jake finished wrapping up the photo. 

“Was your dad deployed a lot?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, sorting through some smaller boxes. “He was deployed when I was born, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my mom ended up giving birth alone,” you commented, reaching up to grab more stuff down from the shelves. “My grandma had to watch Bradley and my dad was gone.” Keeping your gaze focused on your task, you missed Jake’s expression change. “The first time he met me was when we came out to visit him at Top Gun.”

Oh, Jake could really feel Goose’s gaze burning into him through the glass and from beyond the grave. 

“So . . .”

“Yeah,” you replied simply, glancing up at Jake for a moment. “I mean at least I have a photo with him. That’s what I always said whenever people tried to convey their condolences when I was a kid.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It happened a long time ago,” you stated, turning back to your sorting. 

“No, not . . . I mean . . .” You looked up as Jake trailed off, working on his words. “When we were training for the mission, your brother and I had an argument and I brought up your dad. And I’m sorry about that. And of course the whole other—”

“—Jake,” you told him, saving him some rambling. “I know about the whole fight.”

“You do?” he asked, confused. 

“Mav told me. I asked him about why Bradley would have asked me to stay away from you before the wedding and he mentioned it.” You wore a calm expression as you added, “I didn’t love that, obviously, but you saved Bradley and Maverick a few days later and so I thought it canceled out.”

Jake nodded slowly, watching as you turned back to the closet. And when he saw the shelf that you were trying to clear, he quickly walked over. Grabbing the box for you, despite your huff at the action, Jake put it down on the table for you to look through. 

“I’m not crippled, you know,” you stated, walking over to the table. 

“Still, I’m here to help you,” Jake responded, pulling down some more stuff from the higher shelves. “So, what are you doing with the stuff that you want to keep for now?”

“Putting them in the corner, I guess. What else would I do with them?”

“I mean, we could bring them over to my place.”

“You sure?” you asked, looking up at him. “Do you have space for them?”

“I’m not a hoarder. And I’m used to living bare bones so that I can pack up and move quickly,” Jake stated, causing you to nod. 

“Okay. Then I guess we can bring them over.” A moment of silence passed before you turned back to him. “Actually, that reminds me. I was wondering if I could sleep over at some point before I officially move in. You know, to see how it feels and everything.”

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” Jake offered immediately.

“You don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I did.”

“Okay,” you agreed softly. 

You and Jake sorted through some more stuff before loading the boxes of your keepsakes into his truck. You took two cars since you would have to go to work from Jake’s apartment, but you picked up food along your way as a thank you. The two of you put the boxes into Jake’s closet, which was completely empty minus the vacuum and a box of trash bags, before sitting down to eat dinner together.

You and Jake finished up dinner and spent the rest of the evening walking around his apartment, taking stock of things that you needed to bring and buy, and where you would put everything. Especially with all of the baby stuff that was going to come at some point. Making a list on your phone of all the measurements and things to get, you and Jake decided to call it an early night. 

You changed in the bathroom, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Pulling on your usual sleep shirt and shorts, you brushed your hair and your teeth before walking into Jake’s bedroom. Jake was sitting up in bed, scrolling on his phone when you stepped out of the bathroom. 

You were wearing a large worn gray tee shirt that had ‘NAVY’ stamped across the front of it and a pair of silky sleep shorts. And Jake was trying to figure out if you knew that the shirt that you were wearing belonged to him, as noted by the oil stain on the left breast of the shirt, or not. And even though it was loose on you, he could still see your bump under there as you moved around. And then his thoughts started to wander. 

Shifting awkwardly on the bed, Jake turned to you. 

“Did you find everything fine?”

“I have been here before,” you reminded him, setting your phone down on the nightstand. You turned to shut the light off before climbing into bed. You laid down and moved to get comfortable, locking eyes with Jake. “Let me know if I’m taking up too much space.”

“You’re fine,” Jake assured you. “Take whatever you need.” Shifting to lay down as well, Jake rolled on his side so that the two of you were staring at each other, your faces illuminated by the moon. “I’ll probably be gone before you wake up. I’ll try to be as quiet as possible.”

“I’m a heavy sleeper, so don’t feel stressed about it.” Nuzzling your head into the pillow, you closed your eyes. “Night, Jake.”

“Night,” he returned softly. 

Jake moved to go to sleep himself, but when he heard your breathing even out and slow, he opened his eyes. You had fallen asleep quickly, the tension gone from your body, and your lips slightly parted. Jake’s eyes trailed over your face and down to the blanket that seemed to naturally curl around your bump. He reached out and gently caressed the curve before going to bed himself. 

~~~~~

Jake woke up before his alarm, like he always did. But this time, he didn’t wake up alone. 

You were curled into his side and he seemed to have shifted naturally to accommodate you. His right arm was lazily wrapped around your waist with his fingers brushing against your bump. His arm was a little numb from the position but he couldn’t have cared less. Your legs were slightly tangled with his own and your head rested against his shoulder as you continued to peacefully sleep. 

Instead of getting up early, Jake laid there and took in the moment and the feel of you against him, brushing his fingers along the curve of your abdomen.

He would have laid there all day but he still had to go to work. Slowly untangling himself from you, he slipped out of bed and headed into the bathroom to get ready. 

You woke up to the sound of the shower running. Blinking, you rolled over to see the bathroom door closed. The bed beside you was still warm and he had tucked the blankets back down to keep you insulated. You shifted around, trying to get comfortable again. Closing your eyes and trying to go back to sleep, you paused when you heard the shower shut off. 

Opening your eyes slowly, you sucked in a breath when Jake opened the door in nothing but a towel wrapped low on his waist. 

You’d seen Jake in less than a towel. More than a few times. But there was just something about how he stood there that felt all kinds of new. All kinds of ways that made you want to get up and drag him down into bed with you. 

The steam in the bathroom behind him added a glow to his tan skin. The water droplets marked trails down his chest and abdomen down to his towel that you wanted to chase with your tongue. He told you that he sometimes shaved his chest but you preferred the layer. It made him look more . . . rugged. Biteable. Something that you wanted to get your mouth on. And, of course, the man had such strong V lines that you could map them out perfectly in the dark without fail. And you had. 

“Sorry,” he called, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me,” you replied, sitting up more. 

“Did you want breakfast?” Jake asked, walking over to his closet. He grabbed his uniform from the door and walked back into the bathroom. 

“I’ll be fine. I can grab something on the way.”

“You sure? I’m already making eggs and toast,” Jake offered, stepping back into the bathroom. He shut the door enough to give him privacy but still allowed you to talk to him. 

“Um,” you stammered, wincing when you heard the towel drop to the floor, “sure.” Getting up from bed, you walked out of the room. “I’ll get it started.”

Jake went to work earlier than you, so you were in no rush to get ready. Pulling out his toaster and setting it up, you glanced up as Jake walked into the kitchen with his perfectly pressed uniform and wet hair slicked back. You kept your gaze down, hoping that Jake didn’t notice the color in your cheeks. 

You ate your toast and excused yourself to change your clothes. Walking out to wish Jake well with his day, you offered him a small smile. 

“Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“This’ll be your place too soon,” Jake replied, pulling the strap of his bag over his shoulder. 

“Right.” 

“I gave you a key, so you shouldn’t have any problems locking up.”

“Yeah, I should be fine.” Shifting your weight around, you turned back to Jake. “When will I see you next?”

“Whenever you want. I have to go help Javy with something at the house eventually, but I can do that whenever.”

“Tomorrow?” you suggested softly. 

“Tomorrow,” Jake agreed with a nod. 

Jake turned to leave but instead of walking to the door, he walked around to where you were standing. You looked up at Jake with wider eyes as he leaned in closer. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before pulling away. 

“Text me if you need me.”

You could only nod as he walked around you and headed out the door. Standing there for a moment, you let out a long sigh.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, holding a hand to your head. 

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