#but MAYBE she should HANG OUT WITH ME MORE

[starry-hughes]

blurring the lines

matt rempe x reader

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summary: after meeting matt in a bar and hooking up, the one night stand turns into something much more.

warnings: heavy allusions to sex, underage drinking, drinking, hangover, slight angst (it lasts like two seconds), mentions throwing up once, matt is a cocky bitch for a little, creepy guy mention

The vodka redbull in your hand wasn’t strong enough. Maybe it was because the bartender secretly knew your ID was fake. Or maybe it was your friend, Wendy, hanging off the neck of a random guy in the bar like always. You were always happy to support her in the search of a nightly hook up but sometimes you wish you were her, the one chosen by the guys in the bar.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

Matt Rempe filled the space next to you at the bar. He wasn’t twenty one yet but his status in New York City with the Rangers was all he needed for the bartender to hand him a beer. “Tons of fun,” you mumbled taking another sip of your drink.

“I’m Matt.”

You almost scoffed. You were a longtime resident of NYC. You knew who he was the second you saw him and his fading black eye. “Matt Rempe. Yeah, I know. 6’7 right?” Your roommates loved the Rangers games so you had been subjected to watch the whole season. Matt smirked. “Usually the height alone gets people flaunting.”

An audible scoff left your mouth that time. “Oh am I not living up to what your ego needs?” Matt’s jaw locked. He was falling for you more each second. “Lovely meeting you Matt,” you finished your drink, “have a good night.”

The guy Wendy was hanging off of followed the two of you to the next bar. Typically, that meant the guy would go home with her. Another drink in and the buzz was good enough for you, you tried staying pretty sober when Wendy was drinking and flirting with unfamiliar guys. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you told her. She nodded before going back to kissing her new companion.

The line for the bathroom was long. The typical line of drunk girls, vape smoke filling the air, guys trying to shoot their shots when girls were just trying to pee. When you finally got out of the line, your hands felt sticky from the cheap soap and you went to make your way back to the bar.

It was crowded. You were bumping into multiple bodies, fighting your way up to the bar. You lost sight of Wendy, probably still in the darkened corner of the bar with the guy she was dragging along. “You here alone?” The guy’s voice made the hair on your neck stand. Slurring his words and trying to reach out to get a hand on you. “You better back off,” you started, getting defensive, ready to throw a punch. “Calm down Rocky,” a voice mumbled from behind you, Matt Rempe’s tall body was soon separating you and the random dude. “You should leave her alone dude,” Matt said over his shoulder to the guy.

“Are you following me?” you accused. “We’re both at the most crowded bar on this street, I was not following you. Are you okay?” Matt asked. Your eyes softened for a second. “Oh, yeah, nothing out of the normal I guess.” He frowned. “I hate that for you.” Matt was growing on you by the second.

You hated admitting that you didn’t want the night to end. “I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” you teased Matt. He leaned on the bar, looking at you, face inches away, “Then tell me to walk away.” Your eyes flickered down to his lips.

It felt exciting but scary as you dragged Matt behind you by the hand. Once you found Wendy, you quickly told her you were leaving for the night and wanted to make sure she got home. The Uber ride was weird, Wendy and the guy she was bringing home making out while Matt and you softly bumped knees the whole drive.

“Sorry it’s a mess,” he was a little red in the face from embarrassment. It was typical for him, it wasn’t even that messy. “It’s okay,” you swallowed. The nerves were setting in. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he stuttered. “Shut up and kiss me Matt.”

You were shivering. You didn’t know if it was from the fact that Matt kept his room freezing cold or because he just had you shaking beneath him. The sound of his headboard hitting the wall was still echoing in your ears. “Do you want to take a shower?” Matt asked, kissing your bare shoulder. “I don’t have any clothes.” “Just borrow mine?”

The shower was hot and warm. Matt had given you a pair of boxers for a shirt and a sweater. You were drowning in his clothes. “Hope the boxers are okay,” he said nervously after you exited the bathroom. The sweater he gave you was pretty big on you, the boxers had to be rolled up a couple of times. He was wearing sweats that hung off his hips a little. “It’s good.” “I can sleep on the couch if you want me to,” he said. “No, I’m okay with sharing the bed.” Within minutes, the two of you were knocked out and asleep.

In the morning, you forgot where you were for a second. Your eyes fluttering open. This definitely was not your bedroom. Then you saw Matt and the memories came flooding back. His alarm was going off. He woke up, scrambling for his phone. “Sorry,” he mumbled into his pillow, “got practice in two hours.”

Silently, you got dressed in the clothes from the night before. Matt watched from his pillow as you got dressed, he just wanted to remember every curve of your body. “Hey Matt,” you cleared your throat, “this is really out of the ordinary for me. I don’t normally just have one night stands.” His face showed relief. “I don’t either. To be honest, this was my first one.” The two of you laughed at the situation. “I would love to see you again. Don’t be a stranger,” he kissed you softly as he walked you to the door and placed you into an uber. Your phone felt a little heavier with his number in it.

The one night stand turned into multiple nights. Most of them ending in the two of you talking and getting to know each other as Matt performed after care. It was weird, but a good weird. Friends with benefits. “Why don’t we ever go to your place?” Matt hummed. “My roommates.”

The next night you brought Matt to your place. Your roommates had told you they’d be gone for the night. You didn’t bother holding back noises and Matt didn’t either. By the morning, your roommates were awake and leaned over cups of coffee in the kitchen, all tired from hearing the noises from your room for hours after they arrived home. “Bye Matt,” you squeaked as you walked him to the door and he awkwardly avoided eye contact with your roommates. “I’m sorry. Was that Matt Rempe?” The jaw of your roommate fell open.

The friends with benefits relationship took a turn when Matt invited you over for dinner. “I don’t really know how to cook?” he admitted. “You invited me for dinner and don’t know how to cook?” “I didn’t think I’d get this far!” His laugh filled the kitchen and your heart skipped a beat. His head leaned down, “I think I really like you.” His lips met yours and you didn’t hesitate to kiss back.

It was a routine. Waking up in bed with Matt, his alarm going off for practice, having what you were 99.9% sure were dates. When he was traveling, you would use your spare key to his place to water his plants. Plus the sex was good. “I need a date,” you caught his lips with yours. He hummed, “I’m going to Toronto in a couple of days.” You already knew that. You had memorized his schedule. “My friend is having a dinner party tonight.”

“I have a game,” he whined. “I would love to come but I can’t.” You frowned. You knew he had a game but for some reason, you were hopeful he would still be able to make it. It was almost like this was the moment of clarity. Matt wasn’t your boyfriend. This wasn’t a real relationship. There weren’t labels on this. You two weren’t exclusive. He had no reason or obligation to show up to your events just because you asked. “I should get going,” you swallowed hard. His blanket was wrapped around your body as you sat up. “(Y/N). Don’t be like that.”

“I have to go Matt.” You gathered your clothes from the night before, getting dressed as Matt searched for his own sweatpants. “Let me walk you down.” You shook your head. “I think I want to walk out alone.”

It was a slap in the face. Realizing that you and Matt weren’t really together. This started as a hook up. You were attached now. You fell in love with waking up next to him, smiling at the tv when your roommates forced you to watch his games, having half dates which were mainly eating dinner before he took you to bed.

The Rangers game drowned on in the background of the dinner party. It wasn’t a formal dinner party, more of a potluck with cheap food and booze. “Thought you were bringing someone,” your friend slid in beside you as you made yourself another drink. “Yeah,” you swallowed, eyes falling on the tv, “he’s busy tonight.” The Rangers lost.

Matt was pissed by the end of the night. His texts weren’t being responded to. You weren’t answering. By the time the game ended and he was out of Madison Square Garden, your heavy hand had poured way too much into each of your drinks. It was crowded in your apartment. The food was picked over and theoretically the party should have been winding down but it wasn’t. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, Matt was calling. “I should take this,” you hiccuped, accidentally standing too fast and toppling over the Drunk Jenga your friends were playing.

“Hello?” Your words were slurring together. “Are you drunk?” Matt immediately questioned. Another hiccup. “Why do you care if I am? You’re not my boyfriend.”

The words stung him. He really did like you. He wanted to be your boyfriend. It was just that every time he wanted to ask you, he chickened out. “Are you at your apartment?” he inquired. “Yeah.” Your voice was annoyed, he was pissing you off. Matt’s long legs helped with the power walk to your apartment. He snuck into the building behind some people who were leaving. He knew his way around.

The apartment door was unlocked but he didn’t want to just walk in. Knocking, he prayed someone would hear him. “Hello,” your roommate sang as she opened the door. “Oh,” she was taken aback. “Um, (Y/N)!” she shouted. Within seconds, a commotion was heard, laughter as you stumbled to the door. Your mouth ran dry. “Matt.”

“Can we talk?” his voice boomed in your ears. He didn’t wait for a response, he pulled you along to your bedroom, ignoring the looks from your roommates and friends watching. “Why are you here?” He sat you on the bed, looking for your typical water bottle you kept in there. “I like you. A lot. You got really cold this morning. I know I’m not your boyfriend but I really want to be. But you’re drunk right now and it’s not right for me to ask you now.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You like me?” He sighed and nodded, “I like you. A lot.”

When the sun poured into the bedroom, you were in your bed, in pajamas now, head pounding and feeling the urge to throw up. Matt was next to you. He felt miles away though. He was still asleep when you stumbled out of bed and went to throw up from the amount of alcohol you had consumed.

You were surprised you even remembered Matt’s confession. But you remembered how much you begged him to stay last night. When you returned to your room, he was awake. “Matt?” your voice was soft. “I like you too. A lot.”

“Kinda gathered that from the way you begged me to stay last night.” Your face heated up. “C’mere.” You embarrassingly made your way to your own bed quickly, sitting there. Matt dragged you into his arms and lap. “Tell me you like me again,” he asked.

“I like you,” you repeated. He kissed you, “I like you too.”

#matt rempe #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #ny rangers imagine #matt rempe blurb #matt rempe fic #matthew rempe

[lyjen]

Bad Luck, Good Luck

Summary: Evan and (Y/n) are neighbors, nothing more, nothing less. At least that’s what Evan thinks they are, (Y/n) sees him more than that. When (y/n) discovers that Evan has a girlfriend, she knows she can’t handle seeing him with another girl and decides to move. But what if Evan finds her diary?

Request by: anonymous - The request

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley 

An annoyed groan fell off (Y/n)’s lips as she felt her phone buzzing and the ringtone sounding through the air. She searched the small compartments of her bag, finally fishing out her phone out of the bag as she swipes her finger along the screen to accept the phone call. She pressed the phone to her ear “(Y/n)” she said with a little annoyed tone overruling her voice.

Everything that could go wrong, went wrong this morning. She had overslept, couldn’t seem to get her hair into form, stained the outfit she had gotten on but didn’t have time to put anything else on and at last but not least, being stuck in Los Angeles traffic on her way to work.

She was now on her way to pick up the coffee order from some colleagues from the office she worked at. Her hand reached out for the door of the coffeeshop, as she pulled the door open and stepped over the threshold. “I’m sorry sir! I just entered the shop to get your coffee, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She said, An annoyed male voice replied back through her phone and abruptly hung up the phone.

Another sigh fell off her lips as she slid the phone back into her bag and got in line to pick up the coffee order. (Y/n) didn’t like the job she did. But it paid well, and she really didn’t know what kind of job she wanted to do. She never knew. No job really spoke to her..

“Sounds like you have a rough day already” a familiar voice sounded through her ears as she scanned her surroundings to find the voice. It wasn’t until he turned his body towards her as she could connect a name to that voice. It was Evan, her neighbor.

With a small smile projected on his face, his eyes found hers. “Tell me about it” she sighed as she slid her hand through her hair, trying subtly to make it look kind of decent. “Slept through my alarm and stained my outfit, not really my best day and look” she said as she pointed at the stain on the chest part of her beige button up shirt.

“Yet this is one of your best looks” Evan says before he could even realize what he said. Maybe a little bit too flirty than he wanted it to sound. “N-Not that you’ve ever looked bad!” He tried to correct himself as he felt his cheeks starting to burn. “And not that I always check the way you look when you walk out the door..” he sighs as he realizes he’s making a fool of himself.

“And.. god I should stop. I sound like a stalker..” he awkwardly smiles as he rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

A smile was spread over (y/n)’s face as he tried to save himself. It was kinda cute the way he was trying to talk himself out of it, the way he smiled at her when he knew he couldn’t talk it right. A small giggle fell off her lips as she nodded. “It’s okay, I know you’re not a stalker..” she smiled down at the ground for a second before she looked back at Evan again. “Just… a neighbor..” she continued.

“Good” he chuckled softly as he dropped his hand down to hold the strap his radio was attached to. “Anyways, if you’re already late.. Why are you here getting coffee?” he asked, confused as he pointed to the signs of the shop hanging around in the space.

She laughed “Part of the routine, and one of the tasks I got from my boss” she nodded, she wasn’t too proud of that part of the job either. “Hmm, assistant job?” Evan asked her as he saw the way he looked back down again. “Yeah.. nobody at the office knows my name but whenever they need coffee, they suddenly know where to find me” she laughs it off as she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hey, It’s okay if you still have no clue what you want to do for work.” Evan said as he noticed the way she wanted to get rid of the subject. ”I didn’t know I wanted to be a firefighter until I was twentysix, and after I traveled the country trying out so many jobs.” he continued as he tried to motivate her to not give up. “You traveled the country?” She asked, not sure if he was for real or not.

“Oh yeah, I was a mixologist, construction worker, worked at a ranch and I even joined the Navy Seals for a bit” he said. “You? Working at a ranch?” she laughed. “Yeah, not my finest moment. But I was just trying to figure out who I was” he laughed with her as he held up his hands.

When the laughs stopped filling the space, it went silent. It was nice to talk to someone who also had the same problem as she has right now. But except, he found his calling and she didn’t.. At least not yet.

It was silent, but not the kind of silent where it’s awkward. It was comfortable.

“Order for Buck?” The barista behind the pickup counter said, as his head shot towards the pickup counter as he heard his name. “Yeah that's me” he said as he stepped forward, taking a step towards the counter.

(Y/n) looked around as she waited for her order to be made. “I’ll cover for whatever she orders too.” Evan’s voice sounded through her head as he handed over the money to the barista.

“No.. Evan. I really can’t ask you to do that..” she said as she saw Evan getting the two trays filled with coffee. Evan glanced over to (Y/n) as he balanced the coffee on both his hands.

“You didn’t ask, I offered it. And.. it seemed like you needed some good luck today” He gave her a small smile as he connected his elbow softly with her upper arm. “Guess I owe you now” she smiled.

“Yeah.. I guess you do. But I have to go now.. the team gets grumpy when they don’t get a cup of good coffee before a call” he laughed. She gave him a nod, “See you around” he said as he walked past her.

The entrance bell rang as he pushed the door open. “Oh and by the way..” his voice sounded through the coffeeshop as he was standing in the doorway. ”You can call me Buck”

______

(Y/n) opened the door to the archive room, her boss gave her the assignment to go and clean the archive room since it was a mess. And he was right. Her eyes slowly scanned the space before she stepped over the threshold, and looked around the small space that wasn’t much bigger than a janitor's closet.

A smell of stale, like she walked into an old person’s home was floating through the air and made its way up her nose. There was no window, so she let her hand feel against the side of the wall and searched for the lightswitch. When she found the switch, she flicked it on

It was like she went ten years back in time when she stepped over that threshold. As if she stepped into a time machine. There were loose papers spread over the floor, folders with important documents spread over the small table, boxes with more folders and papers stacked into a storage rack.

A sigh fell off her lips as she looked around. She was an assistant, she wasn’t a warehouse employee or a maid. But she needed this job to pay for her rent, she could look for her dream job or purpose while she worked. The best she could do right now is: do her job, do what they ask to do and nod and say yes.

“Where to begin..” she mumbled as she closed the door behind her so she wouldn’t be a burden to anyone. She decided to start with clearing the table, so she had space to organize lost papers which were everywhere.

But after a few minutes of starting she decided to grab her headphones out of her bag to make it fun. Music always does the trick. She folded out the headphones as she turned the wireless headphone on and put on some music and continued organizing the papers.

One by one she went through all the boxes and started to reorganize them. When (Y/n) carries another box from the shelf, suddenly the lights turn off. “What the hell?” she mumbles with a confused frown projected on her face, she looks around. She placed the box she was just carrying on the ground and slid her headphones off her head and ears and let it rest on her shoulders and around her neck.

Alarms were beeping and screaming as she pushed the headphone off her ears. She felt her heartbeat racing as adrenaline was floating through her body. Her hand found the doorknob, when she turned it and pulled the door towards her the whole floor she was on had already been evacuated. “For fuck sake” the words fell off her lips as she looked around the floor and the light smell of smoke entered her airways.

She ignored the smoke smell and walked fast towards the indicated emergency route. But when she swung the door open a smother of thick gray smoke was blown into her face. Multiple coughs left her mouth as she closed the door as soon as possible. She was trapped. The fire probably came from a few floors below her, and there was no way she could get through that smoke, not even with a piece of fabric in front of her mouth and nose to filter out the smoke.

(Y/n) slid her phone out of her pocket, and her fingers went straight to the green button with a phone projected on it. She dialed the three numbers everyone in the whole wide world had memorized. 9-1-1. and held her phone against her ear.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a female voice spoke over the phone as she picked up. “I’m stuck on the nineteenth floor of the Hound co. office on central street! A-and I don’t know what to do” a small cough interrupted her sentence as she spoke to the lady on the phone. (Y/n) was starting to panic as she came to the realization that there wasn’t a way out for her.

“It’s okay, we’re gonna get you out of there. Units are already on their way.” The woman on the phone tried to calm down (Y/n). “What’s your name ma’am?” The woman continued as she tried to gather as much information as possible. “(Y/n)” she coughed, the smoke was entering the room more and more. It was stinging her eyes and made it hard to see.

“I’m Maddie, Is there anything you can hold in front of your nose and mouth to prevent you from inhaling smoke? A fabric like a t-shirt, jacket, maybe a towel?” Her voice was so calm and reassuring.

“Yes I think I have a scarf tied around my bag” she coughed. “That’s great. If you have it, hold it in front of your nose and mouth” Maddie, the woman on the phone instructs her. (Y/n) unties the scarf from the bag and does whatever she told her to do.

“Now, we want to get you as far away as possible from the smoke. Do you see a fire escape? There must be some kind of stairwell” Maddie asks through the phone. “I looked there just a minute ago and it was filled with smoke. I can’t go through there!” (Y/n) spoke as she walked back towards the staircase.

“(Y/n) I know it's scary, but I need you to go higher.” Maddie’s voice spoke through the speaker of the phone. “I’m here with you and I’m not leaving until help arrives.”she continues. (Y/n) closed her eyes for a brief second as she looked up at the ceiling. She squeezed her eyelids together as she shook her head. “Okay'' she cried as she felt her eyes burning, not only from the tears, but from the smoke in the room.

“Now, go and look for the fire escape” Maddie ordered, and (Y/n) went straight towards the door of the stairwell. “Okay, I’m back at the door of the fire escape” she said as a small cough left her mouth. (y/n) pulled the door open and a wave of smoke was blown again into her face. Immediately she looked down, searching from what floor the fire was coming. “I think the fire is coming from one of the floors below me!” she tried to say between coughs and she pressed the fabric tighter to cover her nose and mouth. “(Y/n) I need you to go up”

Just as (Y/n) wants to turn to go up the staircase, her eyes fall down onto something that probably wasn’t supposed to be there. It was a hand. Quickly (Y/n) stepped down the stairs to make sure there wasn’t anyone else trapped. “Oh my god” she mumbled through the fabric of her scarf as her eyes found a woman’s body down onto the ground, lifeless.

“There’s someone else down here!” she said as she kneeled down next to the woman. “In the stairwell?” Maddie asks. “There’s a woman, I think she may have fallen when she tried to get out of here!” she coughed as the smoke became thicker and thicker with the second.

“Can you tell If she’s still breathing?” the voice on the phone asked. She held her hand which was holding her phone in front of the woman’s face as she felt a small breath of air tickling her skin. “I think she’s still breathing!” she concluded as she held the phone against her ear again so she could hear Maddie talking.

“Okay, we’re not leaving her behind. Here’s what you need to do..” Maddie spoke as she explained the way to help and rescue the unconscious woman. Maddie gave her the instruction to tie the scarf she had pressed against her nose and mouth, around her head so it would still hold back some of the smoke.

(Y/n) rolled the woman onto her back and pushed her up so she was sitting up. She got behind the woman as she grabbed her wrists and lifted her up to her feet. The chest of the woman was pressed against (Y/n)’s back so she could bend her knees and lift her weight onto her shoulders and back.

“What now?” she groaned as she carried the weight of the woman on her back and shoulders. “Move, as fast as you can. Go up, there should be less smoke a few floors up.” Maddie instructed her. “Okay. Heading up!” she groaned at every step she took.

“I’m at twenty one” she coughed, with every breath of air she felt her lungs take less and less air. As if the smoke that went into her lungs had taken the place of the oxygen. Her world was spinning around her, black and white dots were dancing around her vision at every step she took. “Just a few more (Y/n). You can do this.” Maddie tried to motivate her.

“I-.. I can’t..” she stumbled over her words as she felt her knees cave in. “I’m sorry Maddie” she coughed and cried. “It’s okay. If you can, exit the stairwell and find a wall to slide the woman down off your back.” she said.

But before she could do that, her vision went totally black, her vision was taken over by the black and white dots. She could feel her body fall down onto the concrete stairwell, as the body of the woman fell down onto hers, completely crushing her body.

“(Y/n)? Are you still there?”

“Captain Nash, be advised, there are two women in the stairwell on the twenty first floor, unconscious. Name of one of the women is (Y/n).” Maddie’s voice came through the radio as the team stepped out of the truck.

Evan’s hand reached out to the compartment door to get out the oxygen tanks but froze, as his heart dropped down in his chest. That name. That damn’ name. He knew it could be a hundred or thousand other people with that name, but something told him it was her. His neighbor.

“Copy that, dispatch” Bobby spoke into his radio as he pressed the button to speak. “Chimney, Buck and Eddie, you three go in and get those two victims. Hen, you go and start triage, Chimney will join you after.” Bobby ordered his team that was nodding.

Evan, Eddie and Chimney all three put an oxygen tank on their back as they got ready to get into the office building.

“Almost there! One more floor!” Eddie said as Evan was still full speed stepping on those stairs as if it did nothing to his breathing. Chimney was panting as he was pulling himself up with the help of the railing like it would help him gain more energy and oxygen.

“(Y/n)!” Evan called out as he almost reached the twenty first floor, trying to get a reaction out of her. There was still a chance she would’ve gained consciousness in those minutes they were rushing up the stairs. “LAFD! Call out!” Eddie’s voice followed up Evan’s yell.

Evan’s eyes fall onto the numbers written on the wall. Twenty one, with the door towards the office floor next to it. Evan’s eyes scanned the stairwell as he stopped in his tracks, but when he heard a groan his eyes shot up and he let his legs carry him a few steps higher.

“Ma’am LAFD, we’re here to help!” Evan said as he could see two female bodies collapsed on top of each other. Slowly the woman gained consciousness. “Oh my god” she stumbled as she realized she was crushing (Y/n)’s body.

“It’s okay, let's get you out of here and checked out, alright?” Evan said as he helped the woman to her feet so she wouldn’t be crushing his neighbor anymore. Evan grabbed both of the woman’s hands to support her weight, as he handed her carefully over to Eddie.

Evan quickly kneeled down next to (Y/n) “(Y/n) can you hear me?” he said once more. But when he didn’t receive a reaction to his question, he took off his glove and slid the scarf she had wrapped around her nose and mouth down to her neck.

He pressed his index and middle finger tight against each other and pressed them against her neck. After he found her pulse and it seemed normal, he held his hand in front of her nose as he checked her breathing. “Pulse seems normal, but her breathing is short” Evan says as he looked at Chimney.

“Must have been because of the amount of smoke. Let’s get them both out of here!” Chimney concluded, as he helped Eddie to support the woman. “You got her Buck?” Chimney asks as Eddie and the other woman slowly start to make their way down. “Yeah, I got her.” Evan says as he nodded at Chimney.

Twenty one floors to carry someone was a hell, but if she was unconscious he had no other choice. They couldn’t get the gurney up there, not when the fire was still roaring over one of the floors. Evan carefully turned her so she was on her back, and slid his left arm underneath her lower back and his right arm underneath her knee cavity.

Her body became heavier at every step he took to get from the twenty first floor back to the ground floor. His arms were losing power, but he couldn’t stop, he had to push through the pain. He could hear soft groans and falling from her mouth.

“I need a gurney over here!” Evan panted as he got out of the doors of the building. Chimney comes running down with the gurney, and Evan carefully places (Y/n) onto it. Once she was on the gurney, Evan ripped off his oxygen mask, revealing his blonde curls and sweaty face.

“Let’s get her into the ambulance.” Chimney said. Evan placed one hand down onto her knee as he placed his right hand onto hers, giving her a slight squeeze to let her know he was there, walking next to the gurney to help her get to the ambulance.

A groan fell off her lips as she tried with all her energy to open her eyes. “It’s okay.. I’m here with you” Evan’s voice sounded through her ears. She could feel Evan’s hand softly squeezing her hand.

Her hand tightened around Evan’s hand as she felt his hand loosening around her hand. Evan wanted to let go, so she could get to the hospital.

“Buck..” she stumbled as a loud cough left her throat, and she looked at him through the small space between her eyelids.

The way she tiredly called out his name, made his heart skip a beat. Evan had a feeling she wasn’t going to let go of his hand sooner or later. He felt the eyes of Chimney burning into his skin as they waited for Evan to make a choice.

“I’m here (y/n). I’m not going anywhere.” He softly said as he got in the back of the ambulance.

She didn't know him at all. Only that he was her neighbor. But she trusted him. That was all that she needed right now.

_____

(Y/n) closed the door behind her as she held the garbage bag in her other hand. In the corner of her eye she could see a silhouette appearing, when she turned around to proceed her way to get rid of the garbage bag she met those ocean blue eyes again. He was holding a moving box in his hands, as a spooked look was projected onto his face. As if he had seen a ghost, or something or someone he didn’t want to walk into.

There was a silence between the two of them, “You’re not moving out right?” (Y/n) decided to break the silence as she pointed at the box Evan was holding. “What?” Evan said as a confused look took over his face now, but quickly remembered that he was holding a moving box. ”No! It’s just..-” his sentence was cut off by a female voice filling the space of the hallway. “Hey we probably have to cull as we unpack. Oh-” The female voice stopped speaking as she walked into the hallway, finding Evan talking with (Y/n). With her keys in her hand she stopped in her tracks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were chatting with one of your neighbors” she said.

(Y/n)’s eyes wandered from the woman she didn’t know, to Evan and back, trying to connect the dots. Evan just stayed silent as he held his eyes locked onto the box he was holding. “I believe we haven’t met yet..” The woman came closer to (Y/n) “I’m Taylor, Buck’s girlfriend.” she says as she reaches out her hand, inviting (y/n) to shake hers.

Her eyes went wide as she surprisedly repeated the one word that triggered her. “Girlfriend?” she said as she collided her hand into Evan’s girlfriend and shook it. Her voice sounded surprised, but she tried her best to sound as normal as possible, even if that was possible. Not after he dropped a bomb on her like that. She smiled awkwardly as she glanced over to Evan and back to Taylor. “I’m (Y/n), Buck’s neighbor and just a friend” she said as she gave Evan one fast glance again.

“So you’re moving in?” (Y/n) asked Taylor as she pointed at the box Evan was still holding. “Seems like it, doesn’t it?” Taylor smiles as she takes place to stand next to Evan. (Y/n) could swear she was going to be sick. How did Evan not mention this to her? That he had a girlfriend who was going to move in with him? How is that something that you’d keep out of your conversations?

(Y/n) smiled at the both of them “So, how did the two of you meet?” (Y/n) asked as she felt a silence coming up. “Well, Buck and his team rescued me from a crashed helicopter a few months ago actually. Just another day on the job, isn’t that right?” Taylor answered as she smiled at Evan, curling her hands around his upper arm.

“Wow, I’m sure that must’ve been scary for you” (Y/n) said as she glanced every now and then at Evan, he was quiet. That was nothing for him, he always wants to join in with conversations. “Yes it was, but luckily we’ve got LA’s finest fire and rescue to save us. It wasn’t love at first sight, but we found each other back” Taylor said as she glanced up at her boyfriend, who was pretty much focussed on the cardboard box which he was still holding in his hands.

The smiles and awkward laughing came to a stop, as a silence filled the room again.

“How are you? How are your lungs?” Evan suddenly asked after a few loud minutes of silence. (Y/n)’s eyes wandered towards Evan’s. “I’m doing fine, thanks. I’ve had some extra follow up exams but my doctor says that my lungs sounded clear” (Y/n) explained to Evan. “Good, happy to hear you’re going good” Evan nodded as he could feel himself slip away and drown into her eyes.

Taylor’s face had gone from smiling to a confused look. (Y/n) guessed Evan probably never mentioned rescuing his own neighbor from a fire. “I got stuck in a fire a week back..” (Y/n) said as she looked at his girlfriend, explaining the situation. “And Buck.. well he saved me” she continued as she quickly glanced at Evan. (Y/n) received a quiet “oh” from the woman and she nodded.

“Um, did they find some kind of emergency building to work in?” Buck asked as he clarified the situation to Taylor. A small laugh left (Y/n)’s mouth “Funny you should ask.. Um, I don't know. I quit the job” she said as she looked down at the floor, which was really interesting to her right now.

Evan’s eyebrow furrowed, he didn’t expect her to drop her job like that. “Oh.. I’m so.. sorry. I had no idea.” Evan apologizes to her. “It’s okay.. really. I wanted to quit anyway.” she quickly said as she wanted to get rid of the subject as soon as possible.

Another silence filled the hallway.

“Anyways! It was so nice to meet you Taylor.” (Y/n) said as she gave her a small nod and slowly backed away from the couple. “But.. I’ve got to.. uh go.. do that.. uh.. thing!” she continued, she quickly slid the key to her home out of her pocket and unlocked the door. “See you later?” Buck quickly asked as she opened the door to her apartment. (Y/n) hummed a fast “yes” and closed the door with a bang.

She was still holding the trash bag in her hand, but threw it through the room to release her anger. She let her back fall against the front door of her apartment and slowly let her head bounce against the door. With her eyes squeezed closed, she bawled her fist along her side of her body and let it bang against the wooden door.

This couldn’t be happening.

______

Evan slides the oven rack with the dish filled with fresh lasagna towards him, checking if his dinner is ready to be served.

But his head shot up at the sound of his doorbell ringing. He quickly slides the rack back into the oven as he shuts the door close and throws the towel he used onto the kitchen counter. He quickly walked to the door, and swung the door open as he was within range.

His eyes spotted an older man standing in front of his door. Evan simply greeted him when he saw the man. “Hello, my name is Wright, I’m your new neighbor from next door.” the man says. Evan’s eyes furrowed in surprise. “Oh yeah, I’m Buck. Welcome to the neighborhood” Evan introduces himself to the man.

It has been months since (Y/n) moved out of the apartment next door, she told Evan that she found a new job and had to move to Berkeley. Which wasn't a lie, technically. After everything that happened to her, she found a new purpose, and needed a new beginning.

But the one thing she didn’t tell anyone was her main reason why she left. She left Los Angeles, and her apartment was because she knew she couldn’t bear to see Evan with another woman. She knew that she would be suffering every awaking second, as she saw Taylor and Evan together.

After the office building fire, she was desperate to help people and to show people that she in fact was intelligent and useful. The people at the office treated her like she was stupid and used her for the most simple tasks. She wanted to prove herself, so that is what she’s going to do. She moved to Berkeley to start medical school at the University of California.

Evan has also broken up with Taylor a couple of weeks ago. Taylor promised Evan that she wouldn’t run the Jonah Greenway story, but eventually betrayed him by doing it anyway. After they spend some time avoiding each other, Evan and Taylor parted ways.

“I came here to ask if you knew the previous neighbor?” Wright asks Evan. He nods as her smile flashes through her mind again. “Yeah, I did” he says with a soft smile projected on his face.

“Good, because he or she left this behind and I wanted to give it back to its rightful owner” the new neighbor says as he holds up a book. The book he’s holding looks used, as if it had lived a long life.

His soft smile morphed into a confused look that was written all over Evan’s face. “I was wondering if you could get in touch with the owner to return it.” Wright says as he fiddles with the book in his hands.

“Oh yeah, sure. I can do that.” Evan answers Wright as he nodded. ”Really? That’s awesome, thanks” his neighbor says as he hands over the book to Evan, who gladly takes it off his hands.

“I’d better get going, have lots to unpack. Let me know if you got it back to the owner” Wright says with a smile written on his face. “I will. Oh and once again, welcome to the neighborhood” Wright sends Evan a small smile and walks away from the door. Evan gives the door a slung so it would close on its own.

Evan inspects the book that was in his hands. It wasn’t like a book to read, it looked more like a notebook to him. When Evan turns the book around to look at the back, he stops in his tracks as something hits the floor. A folded piece of paper.

Another confused look was on his face. He squats down and grabs the piece of paper from the ground. Evan wants to put back the paper in between the pages of the book, but then his eyes fall onto his own name. Written down onto the paper. What the hell?

He had so many questions. Why was his name onto this piece of paper? What was this book? Was it some kind of diary or was it just a book? Was she writing about him? And if so, why was she writing about him? A thousand questions were running through his mind right now.

Evan stands up straight again as he places the book onto the kitchen island. He leaned with his forearms onto the island as well as he turned the piece of paper multiple times, as if it was magically going to show something new.

He can’t open this, right? It’s someone’s private property. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to find this after all. Evan is in a fight with himself, but after minutes of debating and a hundred times turning the folded paper, he decides to open it. His heart was starting to race as he unfolded the paper and he let his fingers trace along the ripped off side of the paper.

Evan,

I don’t even know where to begin, I don’t even know if I will have the guts to send this to you. Maybe this letter will always stay in my diary. I have written this letter already a hundred times, but I can’t seem to find the right words. I have so many things to say, but yet, I can’t get them on paper. Everything I write down seems to be wrong.

Maybe it’s the feeling of seeing you with her, while I try to push my real feelings down. Only to see you happy. Because that’s what I want. I want you to be happy, because that’s what you deserve.

I wanted to be happy for you, when I walked into you and Taylor in the hallway. I wanted to tell you that seeing you and her together, didn’t do anything to me. But I’d be lying if I said that. The truth is… every time when I see you glance a smile at her or even holding her hand, a part of me is dying on the inside. I tried to put on a mask, and to turn into someone else every single time when I walked past you. But it just got harder from time to time.

It’s like I’m underwater, I’m trying to hold my breath and I’m not coming up until this all is over. But I’m suffocating. And that’s why I’m leaving Los Angeles.

I hate the way my heart makes a jump when you glance back at me, or the way my name falls off your lips. The feeling you give me by only standing there, and telling me it’s going to be okay. Or the way you somehow managed to become my lucky charm.

There’s a lot more I want to say… But I’m ending this letter. Because, how could you ever feel the same, we were just friends. Neighbors. Nothing more, right?

- (Y/n)

Evan let his free hand press against his forehead as he reads the last sentence of the letter he found. He felt so stupid, how could he be that stupid and miss all the signals…

______

(Y/n) grabs her cup as she takes a sip from her tea and writes down the last important thing from her study book. A sigh falls off her lips as she hears a knock on the door. She quickly places the cup of tea on the wooden dining table as she pushes the chair back and starts walking towards the front door. Another loud knock on the door was sounding through the apartment as the person in front of the door apparently became impatient. “Yeah yeah! I’m coming!” she spoke loud enough to reach the front door. “Jesus” she mumbled under her breath as she reached the door.

“Buck?” his name fell off her lips as she opened the door and she was once again drowning into those ocean blue eyes. The one she recognizes out of a thousand. “Hey” he simply said, as she leaned against the half open front door of her new apartment.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, with her eyebrows furrowed. How did he find out where she lived?

“I think you forgot something when you left Los Angeles” Evan says as he magically pulled out her book and held it up like it was some prize she could win. "My diary.." She sighs as a smile develops itself onto her face. He holds out her diary, waiting for her to accept it.

She gently accepts the diary he was holding in his hands, “How did you find this?” she asks as she opens the diary, scrolling through the pages, searching for the letter that was meant for Evan. “My new neighbor came to me. Claiming that he found something, and he wanted to give it back to its rightful owner. So he asked me to give it back, since I told him that I knew you.” he explains as a confused look was spread over Evan’s face, while hers looked like she was about to panic.

“Something wrong?” Evan softly asks her as she continues to hurriedly go through all the pages of her diary. A nervous laugh exits her mouth as the panic was written in her eyes and all over her face. “I’ve looked everywhere for my diary, there was something important in it” she said as she closed the diary.

Evan looked down at his feet, as he nodded. “You mean this?” Evan asks as he slid out the ripped piece of paper out of his pocket. The panic in her eyes remained as she saw what he was holding up in between his index and middle finger. “You found it” she sighed as she silently with only a motion asked Evan to come inside.

“You weren’t supposed to find that..” she mumbled as she placed her diary onto her dining table, which was covered in study books and notebooks. “And I suppose I wasn’t supposed to read it either?” he asks as she suddenly starts to close all of the books on her dining table.

The only sound right now sounding through the room were study books and notebooks which were closing. “(Y/n)..” Evan sighed as she closed another book with a bang.

He firmly placed his hands onto the book she wanted to close, as he tried to make eye contact with her. “When were you going to tell me this? or send me this?” he asks. (Y/n) doesn’t make eye contact with him as she stopped in her movement. “Never…” she mumbled, barely audible.

(Y/n) let go of the book as she turned her back to Evan. Both her hands were curled up in fists. She squeezed her eyes closed as she felt Evan moving closer to her. “That letter.. was only to vent. Nothing more, nothing less.” she says.

A scoff left Evan’s mouth. It wasn’t just a vent. Everything she wrote down on that piece of paper was real, every feeling, every emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me that Taylor and I were your main reason you left Los Angeles?” he straight to the point asked her.

She softly closed her eyes, trying anything to stop the tears from leaving her eyes. The silence was deafening. Evan didn’t want to start a war, he just wanted answers. He placed his hand onto her shoulder, to give her some comfort. “I wanted you to be happy, because you deserve that. But I couldn’t stay, because if I did it would’ve ruined me even more” her trembling voice said as she turned around to face Evan.

“You were one of the things that makes me happy. The way you make fun of me. Or the way you never fail to make me smile. Sometimes you’d make me nervous and I’d forget what I wanted to say or I would stumble over my words..” He says as he placed his hand on her upper arm. “You are the one that makes me happy.” He continued.

“Buck…” she sighed as she sobbed through her smile. “It’s okay” he said as he took a step closer to her, they were so close. He could feel her breathing tickling his skin, and hear her breathing become faster within the second.

“There’s something else you forgot in Los Angeles..” he panted as their foreheads touched and their noses were inches away from each other. “And I’m not talking about your diary..” he continued as he softly traced his thumb over her cheek to get rid of the tears.

“Buck I-” but without any warning, Evan’s lips crashed into hers, completely cutting off her sentence. Her chin was caught between Evan’s thumb and index finger, as her hand found its way to the back of his head, pulling his short curls.

This was the right person, with now the right time.

#911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evanbuckley #imagine

[nyxronomicon]

no, cause you're absolutely right with your tags. i too put that thought in the bag of dark thoughts that i should never open but i thought of you and said there is always someone who will be able to understand me lskdk and your tags,,, nodding fervently at your tags because i don't see him as a stepbro cause i love the age difference too lol but

i love love love love the idea of him coming into your room at night and waking you up with his fingers inside you and the bulge in his pajama pants pressing from behind. I also imagine him sitting on the couch when it's just you two, he invites you to join him to watch the game or something and it ends in him cockwarming you while playing with your nipples, you can't do anything but take it and feel it throb inside you until he finally cums inside you, but you have to do it fast before your mom/brother (choso maybe megumi) gets home from work <3 so the idea of being caught is very attractive to me

Sigh... *opens dark fantasies filing cabinet and pulls out stepdad Toji folder*

omg you did this on purpose... cockwarming while he plays with your tits??? my WEAKNESS and you added the risk of getting caught RIP RIP RIP i'm DEAD .... i'm sorry... i'm sorry for the sins... my pussy wrote this i swear...

cw: !! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT !!, stepdad!Toji x f!reader, reader is university age, age difference, dub-con (coercion & implied somno), reader has major daddy issues, reader is touch/attention-starved, corruption, pussyjob, cockwarming, praise, titplay, risk of getting caught, slight edging, size (emphasis on Toji's big dick) pet names: princess, angel, good girl, reader is referred to as "step-daughter" but not as a pet name lol 2.2k sinful, sinful words

Your mother didn't even tell you she remarried. You got home from college for the summer to find a stranger and his son living at her place. You were resistant to the whole idea, but she made you promise to give them a chance and spend time with them. They were family now, after all.

Megumi was just a year older than you. He had one more year of university before graduation, so he was in a similar situation as you. You thought maybe you could bond about it, but he wasn't very talkative and showed more interest in his video games than you.

Your new stepdad... Toji Fushiguro. You didn't even know where to start with your thoughts on him. He was sleazy, shameless, and a little more friendly than you'd like. You couldn't really figure out what he did for work, and to be honest, you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't do anything. Your mom was a chronic workaholic, constantly gone on work trips and spending late hours at the office. She could easily support the three of you on her own.

There was another thought about him that clawed at the back of your mind. The one you immediately compartmentalized, the forbidden knowledge that once fully synthesized in your mind, you wouldn't be able to erase. It remained in a little bottle, threatening to shatter every time your stepfather got home from the gym. Or took you out to dinner. Or watched a movie with you.

You tried to include Megumi as much as possible at first, if only you have a buffer. Hanging out alone with Toji felt weird. It felt wrong, though you couldn't quite pin why. But Megumi was entirely disinterested in spending time with his dad, and only marginally more interested in getting to know his new stepsister.

After a couple of months of getting used to Toji, you were starting to notice things you liked about him. He was actually there for you, for one. Your mother was never around and in the past, and she never kept a man around long enough for you to have any kind of father figure. It was just you and her, but more often than not, it was really just you. You didn't realize how lonely you were at home but with him here, at least you had someone to talk to.

You let his sleazy comments slide. The few times you'd gone out with friends, he made sure to tell you how sexy you looked. And when you got home, he grilled you on if there were any guys you had an eye on. It always flustered you, reminding you of the forbidden thought trapped in that bottle. But as long as you didn't think about it too hard, it would stay bottled up, where it should be.

You hated to admit that your mother was right. That you liked your new stepdad after giving him a chance. You liked the banter, and he was always complimenting you. He made you feel good about yourself. So in turn, you let him get away with more. When you'd watch TV with him at home, you started cuddling with him. He was warm, comforting. Maybe you were a little old to be cuddling with your stepdad, but he smelled so nice and you always wondered what it would be like.

Your mom was at a conference. Megumi was gaming in the other room. It was like any other night, and you and Toji would be left alone as usual. You were half asleep, cuddled up to his chest, when you felt a hand on your breast. It took a second to process, your gaze suddenly shooting up to your stepdad, who froze in place.

"Oh," he smiled sheepishly. "Still awake, huh?" He whispered.

Your mind instantly replayed the number of times you'd innocently fallen asleep like this, only to wake up horny and wet. He was always sleeping himself, but surely he wasn't so brazen that he made a habit of groping you, his step-daughter, while you slept.

"What are you doing?" You whispered back, glancing at Megumi's door, which was open just a crack. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his hand remained on your tit.

Toji pouted a little, gazing down at you. He knew it was wrong but he always had a weakness for naive college girls. "Sorry, your mother has been gone so much lately, I'm a little... pent up." His finger lightly brushed over your nipple, sending pleasure up your spine.

"Toji, we can't..." You whispered, though you made no motions to stop him. It felt good. He smelled divine. The living room was dark, only lit by the glow of the TV screen. Megumi could emerge from his room any minute and that only made this hotter.

"I know, I know." He agreed with you, but his fingers kept kneading your breast. "I just really like spending time with you. I wanted to take it a little further. Make you feel good." Heat flooded your body. You were sure if he could see your expression, he'd know about the dark thought threatening to take over.

You and your mother had the same taste in men. Admittedly you'd always been fixated on older men, maybe trying to fill the void the lack of a father had. But he filled that void perfectly. The reason it felt weird to spend time with him was because you wanted this. You wanted him to touch you and praise you. And you wanted more.

"I'll stop if you want me to." He added. It was too late, the desire in your body burning a hole in your innocence. The buried feelings you had for him shattered that tiny bottle. You wanted to fuck your stepdad.

Your face felt hot. You looked at the TV, playing sports highlights that you couldn't care less about. The sound was loud enough that you couldn't hear the clacking on Megumi's keyboard. And the sinful thought that entered your mind was that Megumi couldn't hear anything happening in here, either.

"No..." your voice was nearly silent. "Don't stop."

His eyes widened for a moment, movements paused. "Oh?" The empathetic smile on his face was replaced with one of a predator. The man could have torn himself away from you a moment ago but now? Even if you changed your mind he'd be playing those words in his head over and over until he could coerce them from your lips again. "You sure?" He added, in an attempt to appear more respectful than he intended to be.

The glow of the TV highlighted your features as you looked back at him. Your eyes were big and soft, like you were on the verge of taking back the permission you just gave him. Before you could say a word, his free hand tilted your chin, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. All the while, he massaged your breast again, your body melted against his.

"It's ok, princess. Just say the word and I'll stop." His voice was sensual, a soft murmur in your ear before his lips pressed to your neck. Shivers ran up your spine and you arched your back, giving him easier access to your collarbone.

It felt so good. His undivided attention, his touch, it was like a drug that you couldn't get enough of.

You knew you should tell him to stop as he tugged you onto his lap. You straddled his thick thighs, feeling his bulge against your clothed cunt. You knew how wrong it was for you to let him lift your top. The feeling of the forbidden pleasure coursed through you as he peppered kisses on your breasts. He was married to your mother. Thoughts of her long erased by his lips wrapping around your nipple. His tongue flicked the bud as your breathing became unsteady. He had a kid your age. But Toji Fushiguro doted on you, his son in the other room nearly forgotten as his thick fingers felt your pussy through the thin pajama shorts you wore.

Finally, finally you were the favorite. His fingers pushed your shorts and panties aside, sliding his cock into the space between the fabric and your wet cunt. It didn't matter that your mother ignored you in favor of the revolving door of your her lovers anymore. His thick girth was nestled perfectly between your pussy lips. You didn't need to grasp at straws trying to relate to your uninterested stepbrother. Toji's tip danced at your entrance, making you tingle with anticipation as you let yourself drown in his affection.

"So fuckin' sexy..." He mumbled against your breast. The praise nearly made you whimper, glancing at Megumi's cracked door as you bit your lip. "Wanna do me a favor?"

Words still escaped you, meeting his gaze with a shy nod of your head. It was almost cute, as if you were trying to play up the innocent act. Toji wanted nothing more than to flip you on your back and fuck you mercilessly on the couch until you were screaming his name. Get you to admit you'd been flirting and leading him on this whole time. After all, what kind of a slut shows this much interest in her stepdad? But with Megumi in the other room, he needed you quiet. And he knew just the perfect way to tease you.

"Just want you wrapped around me for a minute." He pushed his hips up so you could feel his cock sliding in your folds.

"Toji, we..." you trailed off a moment, considering how desperately you wanted to say yes. Your eyes were on Megumi's door again, dreading the idea that he could get up at any moment and find the two of you like this. "We shouldn't." You whispered.

"It's not sex." His hands were on your ass, encouraging you to grind against his dick. Your body moved with a mind of its own, the friction adding to the heat bubbling in your core. "Just a little cockwarming. It's no big deal."

"I don't know..." You knew there were reasons to say no but none of them came to mind anymore. You were so needy and horny and you felt yourself melting into every touch.

"It'll feel good. Don't you want to feel good?" He pressed his lips to your ear, whispering softly. His finger found your clit, toying with the sensitive bud as you rolled your hips against him.

You didn't answer, freezing up while pleasure coursed through you. Your cunt ached, desperate to be filled with him. You buried your face in his neck, panting as you whined silently in response.

"C'mon, princess." He fingered you faster, a sadistic grin spreading on his face. You were close. He could tell you were close from how fucking wet you were. Even his balls were soaked. "You want me to stop?" He slowed his ministrations, watching your reaction carefully.

"Don't stop." You immediately murmured. Your core frustratingly teetered on edge, frowning at your stepfather for toying with you like this. "Fuck," you moaned softly, careful to remain as silent as possible. You'd had sex before but college boys were nothing compared to him. You'd never ever wanted someone so bad. "I wanna cockwarm you..."

"Good girl." Toji grinned, and the praise went straight to your cunt. He lined himself up, your natural slick more than enough lubrication despite his size. It was a tight fit, he slowly eased your hips down until he bottomed out with a groan. "So good for me... my perfect angel..." admiration dripped from his lips.

The praise alone was enough for your pussy to flutter around him. Your back arched, a lewd expression on your face as your gaze met his. He smirked, now knowing how easy it would be to make you cum. "Stay still for me, princess. No matter what." You eagerly nodded your head, hoping for more praise. But he said nothing, instead groping your tits before latching on again.

He paid close attention to your irregular breathing. As his tongue and teeth tugged at your nipple, one of his hands toyed with your other breast. His free hand slid down your torso and into your panties, swirling around your clit. Your breath hitched, your cunt tightening around him. Feeling how full his big dick made you. You were getting close again as desire bubbled in your core.

You sighed with ecstasy, obediently doing your best not to move around. Slick now drooled onto the base of his cock, your sweet pussy clenching around him as your pleasure heightened, a familiar heat swirling within you. You felt so sensitive, fighting the instincts that were desperate for friction. You bit your knuckle holding back the moan that threatened to burst as Toji's movements sped up.

Your whole body tensed up, your orgasm suddenly and violently washing through you. Your cunt squeezed him as he helped you ride through the pleasure, his hands now gripping your hips to hold you in place. He continued to suck your tit, although his movement slowed to allow you to breathe. Still, he refused to pull out until he felt an aftershock or two strangle his cock.

"Such a good girl." Toji murmured in the shell of your ear, tugging you against his chest and leaning back onto the sofa.

@sourpeachsayshi

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk x reader #x reader #cw stepcest #tw stepcest #to be quite honest i don't know how to tag this lol

[1800titz]

Chapter 11 of TDIAG ٩(◕‿◕)۶

CW for this one: p in v, semi-public sex, alcohol

WC: 9.4K

PREVIOUS PARTS HERE | WATTPAD EDITION | patreon here

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When Isla crumples into her bed, over sheets tucked tight, edges to corner, her sandals are still on her feet, unshed. They dangle over the edge of the mattress. It entirely slips her mind that she was meant to send Harry a text that she’d gotten home.

You’ll text me when you get home. 

Safe and sound. She feels something wedged between her molars — seaweed, maybe, and the bitter tang of unease. A faze that washes over her tongue as she prongs it out from its enamelized prison. She’s safe and sound, sprawled over linen, and somehow the churning behind her ribcage doesn’t simmer away. 

She’d been instructed to send a message, actually. It’d been a command. The first time is an accident, but she begins to wonder if she’s breaking some unspoken, unagreed upon rule when she airs Harry Realtor’s Good morning text the next day, sidling out of bed to haphazardly attempt taming her mane of sleep-mussed hair for the workday. 

She thinks, it must stipple more into a morally ambiguous territory, rather than a simple sex-rule-disappointment thing, when she notices his Everything okay? message a few hours post her lunch break… and opts to silence his notifications entirely. 

She doesn’t know what she’s running from. Seeing his texts surge through the aether and light her LED alive makes a raw panic curdle her bloodstream, but she’s known for weeks that the leather and chains — an alter ego she’d become well accustomed to — was entwined with the seemingly sweet real estate agent, masquerading. 

Metathesiophobia. That’s what it’s called on the internet. A long word for a throbbing affliction. Harry doesn’t text again. Dissecting the root of the discomfort feels like discomfort in and of itself. 

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There’s a thin partition between girl’s-night-woo and stuffing an empty chasm in your chest with agave tequila. It slides down into a cavity that already burns on its own, incinerated muscle in the vale of her décolletage — her own consequences, skin muggy over the surface even under the flits of the fans hanging overhead. Karmic misfortunes. Isla’s skin would sear if he was here, but how the vug between her ribs seethes without his touch. Pay the dues. It’sa tardy bill tucked under a creaky mattress — there’s a smoldering hole burnt through the center, and springs stick from its charred flesh. 

Salut. 

She takes a swig, sets the glass down, and thumbs at the salt on the rim. The charms on the bangle sway. Miryea wiggles her eyebrows. The void sizzles. The recipe: one part unrequited longing, one part margarita. Isla misses cherries and scorching kisses. 

She’s moping. Probably, she should find a nice guy — kind eyes burnished in bar lights, twinkling, one button undone under his collarbones. The kind of grin that could get her, half-lidded, to forget all about that wallowing hole. She should let him buy her a drink, smooth the pads of her fingers over his warm knuckles when he passes her something citrusy and strong. Kiss him like there’s a mask sealed to his eyes, let him skim her incisors with his tongue. She wouldn’t bite. Good girl. Sir for the night. He’d slot between her thighs, but it wouldn’t mend that rotting lacuna — a bandaid, skin glued to flesh over sweaty bed sheets. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

Isla looks. Bandaid isn’t talking to her. He’s tow headed, and leant against the bar, one elbow on the soapstone, wedged in the liminal void between the stools. Miryea does that thing she does, then, that slow, charmingly bemused blink — little old me? She never sleeps with them, but she’ll watch them pull their wallets out and pass cash across the bar, then take their drinks with a friendly curl to her mouth. Miryea doesn’t even bring her card to the bar. 

Isla nearly, actually contemplates finally texting him back. 

It’s funny, the way liquor bottles melt to orbs, glinting in the light when she focuses on the broad array behind the bartender, traipsing and bantering, and lets her eyes rest, lids open. I’m sorry. Blue Moscato, bleary, is a glowy Neptune. Her eyes gloss salty. I miss sleeping with you. She blinks and cobalt reshapes. I miss you. Blue Moscato. It’s just a bottle. 

It’s just sex. 

Isla spares another glance. Bandaid’s choice of shirt is eclectic and unbuttoned just enough to showcase the faint dusting of snowy chest hair adorning the space between his swarthy pecs. 

She thinks they start talking, then. Lime has never felt so glum. He buys Miryea a drink. Isla thumbs more of the salt off, just until the tip is tacky with simple syrup.  

“—Hey.”

She twists her chin. Miryea’s cradling a glass of something green in her palm. 

“Let’s head over there.” 

Free drinks. 

There’s a wall behind the wrought iron staircase — tongue and groove cedar climbs behind the railing, paneling in vertical slats to the ceiling. It splits off a secluded booth. 

It’s a Friday night. All she wants is to be bracketed by Harry’s warm, massive biceps. She wants to nip into the sinew of pumped, onyx etched muscle, at the anatomically accurate sketch of the heart there, and she wants to feel the top row of his front teeth latch on the cartilage of her ear in response. She wants to feel the mirthy rumble in his chest against her back before she hears him hum over gristle; this soft, muffled roll grounding with the same energy of bare toes wiggling at the edge of a muddy littoral. Instead, there’s a pending hangover. And anyways, this nightlife does little satiate her nightlife penchants. The gaping hole between her ribs throbs. It’s still sort of burning from the margarita that she holds onto. She imagines it’s unlikely that she’ll find a bandaid big enough to paste over the ache. Probably, she’ll end the night sobbing into her pillow. And maybe Isla needs a good fucking cry. 

She always needs a good fucking cry — that’s the entire basis of her membership, of masks and mean hands prodding at her skin, pinching, twisting, smacking, fill the void. Fill the void. Fill the void. 

He’d wedged into that gap, curling, pried her ribs apart and stuck his hands in. It’s just empty now because she’s pushed him out. 

Isla blinks hopelessly at the little circle of Bandaid’s friends, a plait of lively camaraderie coiled around a steatite tabletop. The stem of the glass nearly splinters in her fist. There’s something pleated into the coterie — it’s got hands the size of baseball mitts with elegant piano fingers and the shading of an anatomical heart on its sleeve. Those colossal hands cushion a lowball glass in a new coat of red. 

Harry’s head is turned to the side. 

He’s loose. Lax. A trio of buttons in linen undone — which is one more than Blond Bandaid. In good spirits, if the blithe smile cresting his pink mouth — in response to something a friend has said — and the serenely planate state of his brow bone is indicative. At least, just up until the point where her silhouette catches in his peripherals, hanging fire like a stunned deer in the middle of a one lane road with headlights veering from behind a thicket. A clangor echoes in the depths of the cavern, bleedy.

Two weeks is enough, apparently, to forget what it feels to be the focus of those eyes. The revelation is enough to punch breath from her lungs. They’re sizzling. 

If her presence is enough to throw him off kilter, he’s absolutely perfected the art of not letting it show. Green roams, but there’s nothing insightful in the breadcrumbs. He regards her in the way a stranger ogles a pretty thing that he’ll never approach from across the room in a fuggy bar — a one-over that loiters on shapely hips from a distance, a piece of patchwork in the quilted night, before the stranger’s eyes retire. It nearly makes her bristle. She’s earned apathy. Her phone is a brick in her pocket. 

Harry looks …well. Suspiciously, which spurs the bristling. Unaffected, nearly. Expecting something different feels selfish, but it doesn’t appear that he’s been moping nearly a fraction of the amount Isla has. Is. He takes a slow slip of clear liquor, and the ice bristles in the glass, clinking as it sloshes, in her favor. 

Bandaid clears his throat. He’s initiating introductions — motioning past an awestruck Isla Cleery. Her counterpart is much more in the element to milk free drinks.

“Miryea.” 

And he lists names, clockwise. Isla doesn’t catch any, doesn’t particularly care to, besides the name she already knows so well. It lives on the tip of her tongue, burning hot, waiting for the opportunity to fly off the muscle at every inconvenient moment when they’re donning masks and fucking. 

Miryea teeters on her heels and waves, chin dipping with the acknowledgement of each man, and Isla only recognizes she’s still ogling Harry when Bandaid motions to her. There’s an awkward pause when his tone wears this dubious edge — an implication that he’s in need of her assistance that’s mottled by her inattention. 

“Isla,” she supplies, mouth melding into that midway forced, polite variation of a smile. Close-lipped, the kind she’d share as a kid at cocktail parties with a parent’s palm pasted over her shoulder. 

Harry’s eyes don’t wander, then. Not even for a second. It’s a peculiar kind of gravity; she to his eyes and his eyes to …her. 

“Isla,” Bandaid parrots, like he’s tasting the emphasis of her name. 

He sticks a hand out. It dwarfs her own in its grasp — she settles into something firm; habitually professional. And then—

Bandaid raises the back of her palm to his mouth for a chaste kiss.

“Sam. Very pleased to meet you.” 

Her eyes skirt. He’s watching, but his features speak nothing. Instead, he brings the glass to his mouth and tips. Seal it with salt. In her peripherals, Harry disengages into conversation. The line rends. 

Sam isn’t inherently a heinous looking guy. In fact, most would deem him conventionally attractive. Sharp, chiseled. Symmetrical, and all that. Attractive on the biological scope, where the sake of attraction depends on indicators of good health. He’s got symmetry, she thinks. And he doesn’t fit Sir.

If Isla had anticipated that girls night would involve tucking into a booth with the source of the gnarled cavity in her chest, she’d have opted for wine coolers over Love Island reruns in the safety of her living room.

She doesn’t quite know how it happens — the way Miryea strays from Sam’s arm to opposing eye candy. This one’s more her type, with dark, close set eyes and a perennial brooding to the shape of his features. She curls up in his corner, batting her lashes as precedent to every word out of his mouth, and as consequence, Sam sets his sights on the only other sweet, pretty thing seamed into the booth. Quiet, hands in her lap with this gaze that roams off in what’s nearly a flighty panorama. 

He tucks his cheek into his palm, and drums the back of a short nail over his tumbler. It clinks. 

“What do you do, Isla?” 

She looks up and blinks like the precipitous glare of the spotlight has stunned her back, tethered from floating in the aether. 

“I’m a paralegal.” 

His eyes crest — almost like intrigue, and sallow lashes sweep when he blinks and stirs, “Paralegal. You’re a …sophisticated woman.” 

Sam plays it nonchalantly. He doesn’t stare at her tits — doesn’t linger in the naked flesh that sunders dark fabric, the bare vale that starts at her neckline and peaks above her navel. He doesn’t even try to look. But she can see it in his face. Like he can be the balm to the wound. Let me in. 

It only takes a second, a fleeting glance to find a different set of eyes. Jade boring from across the soapstone. They’re sharp, flinty like talc. A hide of green snakeskin and fingers perpetually flexing over an invisible, clandestine whip. Or, maybe, the neoprene padding of a leash handle. He’s practically tugging on the phantom of it across the table.

Isla swallows. 

Envy. 

He’s jealous. 

The tick in his jawline, like a vicious maw waiting to bite — the way his thumb smears over the rim of his glass and his forefinger taps the crystalline body. One, two. 

Three. 

The way he pastes his gaze to his drink — a crick in his neck like he’s wryly amused. 

It dawns on her, then. The searing from across the table dissipates any prior nonchalance so suddenly, Isla wonders if she’d been entirely imagining that Harry was ever distant or carefree. He’s stewing over the flame of this show — Sam toeing at the hedging, an islet that bears the imprint of another man’s teeth. He raises the glass to his lips and rolls a mouthful of something bitter and sharp. Contemplating. Isla can’t tell if the grimace that comes after is the result of liquor heating his taste buds or the sight of Sam, half-lidded in flirtation, anticipating her response. 

He spits it like barreled oak turned sour behind his lips, but it’s light. Easy, like jabbing at a friend. A man doesn’t tell a friend not to piss where he pisses with a foaming snarl, after all. 

“She doesn’t want to fuck you.” 

Sam raises his eyebrows, almost stunned by the insert. It flees quickly, though. Stains over with smarmy indignation. The kind from a friend to a friend. His laughter catches on a scoff. 

“Fuck off.” 

Harry is the wingman of the century. 

She sets her three-quarters nursed marg onto the table, jaw set when her gaze splits to the emphatically apathetic shaping of Top Tier Wingman’s features. He runs the tip of his index over the lip of his glass like he’s smug to cockblock. She hopes his choice of company has no interest in spiking her beverage. 

“I’m going to— go. I have to…” Isla settles on nothing, lamely. It sort of miffs her more. 

Her face crinkles as she stands and makes a beeline for a hallway where she knows she’ll find a restroom. It’s a single use, and the blessing of her night comes in the form of no line. Two doors parallel each other, and she slips in through the screeching crack of one, doused by borderline desperation. 

It’s quieter here. Still loud in her head, but quieter. The same sensual track leaks from covert speakers, bumping with bass. Tinny, like it’s played through the other end of a phone — and the high’s worn off, the depths of her buzz quelled by him. It still spumes through her veins, but Harry always was a sort of sobering experience. Except, he made her float. Her lungs feel like they’re sinking, shrinking into the boundless black hole of the cavity. Isla stares back at the madwoman in the mirror and opens the Calm app. 

Breathe. Hold that breath. A knock seeps, stemming from the opposite end of the heavy-set door. Four seconds. She eyes her reflection. There’s a knot of emotion in the pit of her tummy — she thinks her innards are coiling, sloshed with tequila and margarita mix, and it’s a brutally nauseating combination. 

“Occupied.” 

It might feel strange at first, but it’ll feel more natural with practice. Someone raps their knuckles against steel, more purposeful. She sets her phone onto the sink and screws her eyes shut. The guided meditation is still playing when she sniffs, twists at the knob, and tugs open the door, half-expecting to tell a drunk person off for their lack of patience. 

The animation of a sun rocks happily over the LED, riding the blue wave of symbolic inhale, like twisted irony. Hold that breath for four seconds. In her loose-gripped balk at the sight that greets her, Harry slinks through the crack like rain through a gutter. 

Words fail. They’re useless, substanceless things that do little to salve over the chasm when he leans back against the door, slipping it shut under his weight. His arm skulks behind, with little subtlety, and clicks the lock back into place.

Hold. Let it go. 

Isla scrubs a hand over her face and launches another frantic one in the direction of the smartphone, still blaring the script of a mucked up, guided meditation. Harry blinks, sticks a ring-adorned hand into the pocket of his slacks, and unveils a little pin of a key. His eyes are still serpentine — whetted like the scales of a viridian snake, and somehow, they’re softer than they’d been. They flit from her face to her wrist and back. She’s still cuffed in golden love shapes and emblematic adoration cleaved. 

“Do you want this, or are you just opting to get it sawed off?”

That’s— not the conversation started she’d been expecting. Her cheekbones teem with a parabolic warmth. This shame doesn’t feel good. 

“Um. Yeah, I’ll take it. Thank you.” 

She’s guarded the way acreage is girdled by barbed wire, post to post, its razor sharp teeth spearing to a soft touch. Harry notes it in the way she tenses when he prompts, taking a step, “Let me help you.” 

She does stick the joint out in his direction, though, almost hesitantly; at first like a testy child, and then with the energy of a flighty, cornered mammal. Instead of hissing from her corner, there’s silence as her eyes roam everything in the space but his stature. 

“Was the date that bad?” Harry tries, eventually, fingers curling over bone. 

The pin turns in the keyhole. Clicks. Green flickers up, then back to the bangle as he wrests it apart. A crinkle forms between his brows — the void between her ribs expands and falls, as if making room for something breathing in the depths. Hibernating. 

“Because I thought it went well, but if I did anything to offend you and I misunderstood, I’m sorry.”

Her voice would be wet, probably, if she wasn’t still so riled. It comes out quiet, the next thing — under her breath, face tipped down like a kid mid-chastise. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Despite the weight of the words, her voice is low, almost like a sinner whispering in a confessional. It’s rage soft spoken — the blistering sear. She does her best to curb the tremble in her fingers; his warm digits brush her skin in a way that she hasn’t felt in weeks, and the small contact feels like the nostalgia of diamorphine. He could pry her ribs apart with his hands, traipse over trails of veins wandering in a two-fingered saunter, and still find home. 

Harry pauses. His eyes are sharp again, that bladed edge whittling. He peers up from his handiwork. 

“Pardon?” 

“The— you know what,” Isla looks at him. Really looks at him. “You pretend you don’t even know me, and then you try to— what? Mark your territory?” 

Metamorphose. Something smugly sneering rears, something ugly and viridian, probing out; it starts in the shapes of his brows, crinkling them until they’re reborn in a self-satisfied smoothness. It lingers to his mouth; a flash of teeth. His eyes. 

“He wanted to get his dick wet. Did you wanna help with that, sweetheart?” 

Inhale. Isla blinks. It dissipates, curdling back like an eel that’s met a wall of halite. His face softens, sours, downturned to quarry tile. 

“You stood me up,” Harry reasons, wagging his head in denial, “You did that, not me. Why would I act like we’re anything more when you…” 

Hold that breath for four seconds. It’ll feel strange at first—

“You’re playing games,” Isla argues, hands motioning wildly before raking back through her hair — the bracelet is grasped out in his palm, now, and he’s watching her, expressionless, before the features there twist, “You’re— you— blending the lines, into— into—“

The richness of the insult is practically gilded, Harry thinks wryly. He imagines it entrapped in a tomb of gems. “Games? I’ve always been upfront, darling. You wanna talk about games? 

Isla sets a hand onto the sink, uncuffed, and watches where the bangle is fisted by knuckles that aren’t quite white. Yet. 

“—Like the ones you played — crossing limits with no prior discussion. Kissing me? You want to talk about blending the lines?” 

Her face creases.

“Oh, Christ, Harry. Okay,” she feigns placating, hands motioning as if to counteract the seething spitfire of her cadence, “I’m so sorry I broke the contract—“

“Oh for fuck’s sake, this isn’t about the bloody contract—“

“—Without being your good, little pet and asking permission, first.” 

Isla’s always been like spitfire — a cannon biding, full of soot and char. It’s always been a welcome development; the burn was always a pleasant warmth radiating. Somehow, he’s always felt like the carbon dioxide to her flame. This, though, feels like kerosene, and Harry’s no idea when her pellets grew fangs. 

She watches it in live action — the way his topography alters like colorful emblems sifting through a slot machine. Appalled. Sore. Detached. There’s an impasse in the space between their atoms, slick over the tile like dirty mop water. 

He barely looks her way when he outstretches the bangle and its companioned key, and he sounds like defeat personified when he tells her, eerily calm, “Alright. This is yours.” 

Isla doesn’t take it. Not at first. Harry doesn’t say a word. The words rot in his throat.

“It’s yours,” she counters, instead. 

She’s never seen the man so pacific, not to canon balls kissing his skin, as when he wrenches her loose fist apart with his own fingers. Hands it off like she doesn’t belong in his warm palm. Not any shred of a remnant. 

“Pawn it if you want.” 

Her lungs crackle. The torrid pit hisses as the tip of the blade twists. She slumps against the wall. The bracelet and the pin dangle in a loose grip crossed over her front. She can’t even manage a flimsy smile, and this feels like a poignantly hysterical margin to their chapter. A last page in a poky bar restroom. 

“So. This is it?” 

His mouth is a line — straight and unwavering. It parts to parallel. Seams together. There’s the coppice of an all consuming forest fire in his gaze (something left to smolder) when Harry declares (it’s an answer), “…I never treated you like that.” 

“…You’re right,” Isla says. She ogles her sandals, dipping her chin in agreement.

Harry rests a hand on the knob. He doesn’t swivel the lock. 

“You didn’t. I’m just—“ Isla nods. “You didn’t.” 

Harry gnaws into his cheek, nods back all slow-like. 

“…It was a good date.”

“I’m glad you had a nice time.” It’s not clipped. Just tired. Impartially …adjusted. The chasm heaves, bleeding over. 

The cavity could swallow her whole. She imagines it eating away at her from the inside-out as the door clicks and she peers up to find emptiness as her company; suckling at her marrow and gnawing at soft tissue as the tips of her digits judder over her phone for an uber. Her tongue draws over her lips. Saline mingles with credence. 

“I was scared,” Isla blurts. She’s not nodding anymore — she shakes her head down at the toes of her copper leathered shoes. 

She searches for the words in the gap — a pregnant pause that stifles his patient palm, curled at the door. Her shoulders heave on the nervous breath that her lungs expel, so much so that the words seep out saturated by the tremor. “I was scared— about. Blurring the lines. I was scared because the club is one thing, Peitho is one thing, and… I’m so different. When there’s no masks, there’s… feelings. And, I don’t know.”

The bare shapes of his face soften; the plush of his mouth, the chisel to his jaw. She misses it, still trembling down at her slip-ons like gearing to wrack with sobs; shedding denial. It wades up her vocal chords. Flees its prison. Every word she’s managed to swallow down for a long duration of two weeks bobs gracelessly from the depths. 

“I was wrong. I was so wrong, I’m sorry I did that to you. But I have feelings for you, and I can’t stop thinking about you, and seeing you here—“

He bleeds around her like watercolor smearing through the bounds of predetermined charting — a warm orange weeping into azure; chilled ring bands contouring a warm brush at the crest of her cheekbones. Slinking up her jaw, the pad of a thumb under her eye socket, a forefinger at her scalp, tucking hair. 

“—It’s— it—“

“Hey,” Harry croons, “Hey.”

He doesn’t tell her he hates to see her cry. 

“I’m—“

“Hey. S’alright. It’s okay,” he laves at the palpable symptoms of the wound; her broken visage where a thumb swipes over a crinkle in her brow bone, a lash line globbed with frantic emotion, smearing makiage. 

He scorches her veins with his touch — it spumes through like his warm press is a catalyst for a sweltering wave of dopamine. Words morph as a strawberry mouth ghosts over her cupid’s bow. Okay, it’s alright, hey. She purses her mouth against a thumb sweeping over a wet frown; mouths at it. Chiaroscuro is this — soft pledges, the pad of a thumb grazing a front tooth in the top row. It’s okay. Rolling into the gap until it wrests apart. Hey. Pressing to her taste buds. There's thunder behind her ribcage. He could lick up her pulse point and feel it; probably senses it in the tip of her tongue. A mid-spoken kiss on salt when his thumb meddles out, daubs the edge of her lips, slicks over her cheek with spit. 

He could strum her like a guitar, Isla thinks, crawl up her ribs with his fingers, coddle the column of her throat with his hand and she’d sing the prettiest tune. He knows it; a string snaps when her hands roam up the firmness of his torso. Come here, little thing. You’re already marred by my teeth.

They traipse from the wall, each step slotting toe to toe like puzzle pieces sticking into notches and grooves where they fit, mouths meshed with his broad hands splayed over either side of her skull. Those belong, too. 

“Are we doing this?” Harry sighs against her mouth, stirred heady like he already knows. There’s fingertips toying at his belt buckle. She nods into his grasp, hedonistic when she stuffs the bangle into his pocket. 

And then—

He tells her, “Beg.” 

His eyes are sharp again; the swinging tip of braided kangaroo leather. It wags, ominous; talc skates feature to feature, drinking in the falter the way he’d been sipping on Casamigos.

“I—“

“Beg—” Harry parrots, cool fingertips curling over the nape of her neck, thumb smoothing up at the little space of skin under her ear; a minor affection. Her eyes mingle on his mouth. “—Me to fuck you. Beg like you deserve it.”

Isla swallows. Garbles a plea out, riding the rail of a mewl. The fond graze under her ear mutates, a light scrape with the butt of a blunt nail first and then tenebrose squeezing at her jawline. The cup of his hand draws divots into the flesh of her cheeks, makes something burning slosh in the trench of her belly and claw up her chest when her breath catches. Harry tips his head, and despite the stifling firmness of the motion, the polarity of his tone makes her lashes flutter. Lighter, softer. 

“Come on, pet. Better than that. Convince me.” 

Her mouth parts. She leans into him like his words have given her a headrush, and the brush of his lips to her own will mend and stabilize. He lets her, but he doesn’t meet her in the middle, cocking his head back. The space between them wanes. 

“Please fuck me. Please.”

It’s a poor kind of attempt — wouldn’t pass in the Dungeon where his eyes would skirt, in slits, and shapes of muscle would wallow in the jaundiced light of a single lantern overhead. It works well enough, though, here. 

In a split second, they’ve rearranged. Spun like cards passed counter-clockwise over a table. Eros meets her in the mirror. Unveiled, he basks in a yellowed glow from the light, chin tucked over her shoulder. Isla watches emerald embers caper from the echoes of their profiles, to the side of her face as he eases hair back behind her ear, and back. 

“Look so pretty,” he murmurs, low against her cartilage, and the plume of his breath makes her bones ache. She’s pliant, a marionette in his grip; there’s a rather large hand that fondles over her throat like a meaty collar. The other trails up her torso, skimming at the bare flesh hungry fingertips find. A set of eyes flickers to the mirror. She meshes with them in the reflection. Drowns. “Look at you. All dolled up. Pretty, pretty girl.” 

His grip over her windpipe isn’t harsh — not to the extent she’s felt the same grasp linger there before. Despite that, the headrush from it, like oxygen atoms simmering down from her veins on their poor uptake, spurred by his words, feels like he may as well be carrying her by the neck. 

“Who’d you wear this for?” 

It’s grit out through the cracks of his teeth, a cheek flush to her hair when he smooths his free hand down her tummy and climbs back up to finger at the hem of the plunging vale. “Not for me.” 

Her lashes flutter back at her from the mirror on a heavy inhale. He admires the two of them. A perfect match, lit aflame. His fingers slink and dance over a sliver denuded as he wrenches the valley, between fabric, down her diaphragm wider. 

“Wanted to look all pretty for someone? Some nameless, walking cock?” Harry murmurs, pleased when he sees the twitch in her brows — disagreement — and feels the jut of her chin all the way from the base of her throat where his hand rests, a minute side-to-side. “Hm? Have them fuck you in the bathroom like a dirty whore?”

Her next swallow catches, cornered by his palm in its esophageal prison. 

“Maybe… Sam?” 

“No,” Isla spurns. 

“No?” It’s soft condescension, glazed in it and unconvinced, “But that’s what you want, isn’t it? You kiss me—“

An achy roll welters up her spine, ridging up through her rib cage when he tweaks a budding nipple poking through polyester and linen. 

“—Put your hands all over me, like you’re desperate,” Harry tells her, a smooth baritone of molasses that permeates her eardrum, and his voice grows quieter when he smushes closer, like he’s desperate himself to croon the filth. Nearly grazes the gristle there with his blocky teeth, “Like you’ve wanted to get fucked in the bathroom all along. Did it make you desperate, baby? Missing me?”

His slacks (Italian wool blend) feel grainy against her backside when he shimmies the hem of her dress (bodycon) up and over — just up the side to its lopsided demise, one hip sweltering out bare for a peek of a black thong and the other still clad in a sloping border. Like fibers that shouldn’t coexist with skin, shouldn’t cumber flesh on flesh. He wedges a thumb under the patent string of the thong, tows it back like the digit is a lever, and smooths a plane of four fingers tucked together, bumpy nooks, down the puffy bud of a nipple sticking through fabric. Snaps. Like rubber braced to her wrist, the elastic piece at her hip sends a tremor through her knees. Harry traces the outline of her cunt, over her panties, with a middle finger and wrests back one side of her neckline. Then, the other, to scrape the nail on his thumb over a bare nipple. The reflection that meets her in the mirror is in sordid tatters — partly denuded, a half-dressed doll in his big hands. He toys with its soft skin. 

The hand that’d mounted over her throat meanders to her jaw, jams a thumb in to the edge of her mouth, stretching one corner, gripping bone and snaking over wet teeth. She puffs warmth into his palm; his skin tastes like kismet. 

“Could’ve spent so much time bouncing on my cock by now,” Harry tuts. Sighs. “Open.”

Then — Good girl. His lips smear over the crest of her cheekbone before he turns to the mirror and sloppily burrows a set of three fingers against her tongue so unceremoniously, she nearly gags posthaste, brows pinching and eyes skirting up to the ceiling. He’s a steady plinth — unwavering nonchalance painting his features — when she rocks back in jarred reflex, neck craning. A sloppy sound crawls from the depths. His eyes flicker, chin pivoting from the mirror to the side profile of pliant acceptance, three fingers deep to the hilt of his rings, a micromosaic goldfinch, a pearl nestled by an aerie of gold. He draws them out, sleek with saliva. 

“Good girl,” Harry tells her again, sounding nearly impressed. Almost.  

There’s a tang on her tongue — regalia, ornaments coiling his digits, tequila, and a top coat over sanguine lacquer. A nakedly ruddy streak of skin by her mouth, where the foundation has blotched away, catches her eye when she folds over the sink with a hand at her nape, a muck of kohl beneath her eye sockets. Isla wonders what the real aftermath will look like. The hand smooths down the shuddery hills of her spine, then prises her dress to rest over the dimples etched into the small of her back. 

The plush of her thighs splays against chilled ceramic. He spreads her apart until she’s practically on display under the flimsy set of strings she’s deemed underwear, nearly everything intimate peeking for its lewd debut, and crushes a handful of flesh until it’s milky under the tips of his (still wet) fingers. Heat flares between her thighs at the bite. 

“What did you miss more, sweetheart…” Harry beckons, blunt cerise clawing into her skin as her brows pleat.

He drags the pad of his forefinger down the stream of tenebrose linen, where her littlest hole spasms at the pressure in passing. 

“…Having your clit played with—“ he toys at the seam of her gusset, pries it off just enough to feel the bare warmth of the bud pulsing under his singular tap. 

She thaws into the sink like tap water spouting when he pulls her panties back over and mingles, prodding a cotton-coated thumb against the rim of her cunt. “Or getting fucked?”

Her arteries thrum with fire. 

“Only enough time for one or the other,” he encourages, eyebrows climbing in the mirror — it feels like a ploy.

Isla’s brows crimp when she answers; he’s still fondling in monstrous callous, and she’s sure her skin will be branded with little crescents at the nip of his blunt, carmine-polished fingernails — sharp borders to a warm handprint over flesh. 

“Two-for-one?” She rocks forward and back, squinty, “…Package deal?” 

Harry hums. It’s mirthy; a paradox to the cruel linger of his touch before he peels off (eyeing the white imprint of bloodrush), and smacks in the same area. Isla tips forward, eyes screwing.

“Package deal…” Harry murmurs under his breath, smoothing over florid skin, sight flickering like a light. 

“You can multitask,” Isla reasons, and she muzzles a squeal with the roll of her lips when he pinches. 

Nothing’s new, Harry finds. It’s pleasant, like the kiss of cement to the wheels of an aircraft, or the view of blue aether and the plume of its clouds. Your feet will always find the same ground, soles shackled by gravity, and you’ll always rediscover the same sky in the roll of the sun. A pillow pasted to the same spot of a couch when the lock clinks open and you regress from a trip abroad. The pith of familiarity. 

“…Getting fucked,” Isla admits, soft like a sinner whispering secrets in a confessional. 

He meets her gaze in the reflection. She’s still squirming, a little, but it’s different now; little juts in response to an absent-minded, featherlight rake of his fingertips over the same area he’d tattooed with his palm. Harry wriggles her panties to the side. She chews into her bottom lip, watching the mirror, all the way up until the precipice; he prods, sweeping a fingertip from her entrance to the hood of her clit, and slick tails it. 

“Then you’ll get fucked.” 

It’s marinated in the pit of her tummy, this sultry ache that teems from her inner thighs to her core and snakes up her midsection, stuffy, and hot. Wanting. Isla watches a backdrop of tile and meaty arms clad by linen work as the teeth of a zipper sunder apart and a button nudges through its slit. She simmers in that familiar broil when his leaky tip probes, slides and aligns. 

Harry feeds his cock into her with little warning, stretching the rim taut, and draws a soft sound that sounds nearly lodged back by her tonsils in volume. 

It’s a pleasant ache, familiar, emphasized by the poignant emptiness of two weeks; a chasm, bristling at her ribcage, born from that emptiness, starved. It aches enough for her jaw to tense as he eases in, sharply watchful in the mirror. Nirvana crackles up his spine — the bliss of this tight squeeze. 

“That’s it, baby,” he soothes, petting at her hip, flickering between watching her sloppy hole split apart over him and her own visage, tension reflecting straight ahead. 

And then—

He’s in to the hilt before she knows, a squelching heat that envelops to his base, nuzzled skin to skin. Isla doesn’t have the same view, but it’s lewd, this welcome sting that bores to her marrow, a deep pressure where he’s tunneled and stuffed his fat cock — the sight of his jaw pornographically unhinged on a soundless groan as he retreats a couple of inches, slick, wet, and nudges back in. Isla hangs her head. 

“Eyes up, Isla,” Harry demands.  

The weight of her name, as his cock bullies into her, prompts her to raise her chin and hone ahead like no other encouragement. Soft dialogue, something with a keen pierce, Isla, Isla, Isla — she’s never heard it before as he’d slotted in between her sticky thighs. She rocks back for more — more, more, more. 

He’s already threadbare in composure. Worn out by the blade of sordid impulse pressing at sutures. He’s being nice to her, petting at her hips, easing in like the spongy warmth doesn’t get his cock throbbing and weepy. Like the lustrous claws of temptation don’t curdle up the blood in his veins, coaxing to sink in and pound — it’s expertise in exercising self-restraint, this genial pace he’s set, inch by inch. 

And this greedy, greedy little thing grinds back against him, unsatiated and ungrateful. 

Then it registers. 

She’s still greedy, so he swats at her from behind (revels in her squeak), but smooths up under bunched fabric after to scrape at bare skin with the pads of his fingers. 

“Oh, you liked that, did you?” Harry cooes, burrowing in til the globes of her ass kiss the stems of his laurels — her pretty mouth pries open into a nirvanic o. “Hearing your name, stuffed full of my cock?”

He prompts, when there’s no response, “Answer me, Isla,” and drags a few inches out and pummels back into her sopping cunt hard. 

“Yes.” 

A whisper. A whine. Confession. 

He sets a pace when her irises are all loose in their sockets, climbing up behind her lids and a fluttery lash line. Drills in something mean, a cruel tempo that rocks her, skin smacking on skin. A resounding coalescence of flesh meeting flesh and vulgar squelches as Harry batters in, bouncing off the walls of a narrow single use restroom. 

She makes little sounds. Little oohs and unphs that he pounds out of her, partly spurred by the laxness of alcohol tiding her blood stream, and partly the way he mercilessly spears her over his shaft. 

Harry folds over her, cups a palm to her curved pout and smushes, hissing, “Be fucking quiet.” 

And still, he doesn’t stop rocking into her, little nudges that frantically jut up against spongy walls and scrape at the spots, deep inside, that she can’t reach on her own. Isla keens into his fingers. 

He stops. 

Only for a moment, posturing up behind her and dragging out all the way until only his tip kisses her rim, breaching only a tad, and then plunges in all the way hard. Brutishly, in a way that fosters a blunt kind of pang she feels to the depths of her joins, snaking plica and curves of bone. Grinding away. 

“You’re going to apologize,” Harry tells her slowly, nudging out, inch by inch, fraction by fraction, pausing midway to bask in the desperate pulse of her sloppy cunt. Don’t go. It ticks the left corner of his mouth up, has him tipping his face up to the ceiling. Smooths out the way he pets her, a clean slate, composed and sharp when their eyes clash in the mirror. 

Harry’s always had it. Lingering in the lull, kissing at the atmosphere between their atoms — a steely character in nonchalant hues. The kind that wordlessly controlled. He pistons in with a jab of his hips, and again, and again. 

He prompts, enunciated, with a pink mouth highlighting the syllables, “I’m sorry—“

A pummel forward and fingers curling over her shoulder — a notch for leverage. It’s a welcome pressure, like the hard kind that dispels a knot long ago lodged in muscle.

“I—I’m sorry—“

“I’m sorry for disrespecting your time—“ 

It’s strained. Vehement and pent. Porcelain digs into her pelvis, and it hurts when he grinds her into it, harder and harder with the momentum of his hips, like rocking forward over a boulder. 

“I’m sorry for—“ the breathy reprise melds with a high, soft sound that creaks from the back of her throat. 

It doesn’t matter — the vista of her ass bouncing over his cock, or maybe her lashline saturating in the mirror… some part of it all has him gnashing his teeth and doubling down. 

“Pardon?” 

Her eyes loll. 

“I’m sorry for disrespecting your— your time,” Isla manages, bobbing over the empty basin. 

“I’m sorry for disrespecting you,“ Harry prompts. It hitches on a soft breath, the kind that’s commonplace when her spongy walls are squeezing, but the flinty snakeskin doesn’t taper. It bores in the mirror, smoldering like viriscent bonfires dancing in his sockets. 

Something spalls. Isla hangs her head, pulsing helplessly over his cock when he bottoms out. Her clit throbs. The words catch in this wet limbo at the back of her throat, churning, either to be swallowed or spit back up. A soft sob climbs from the back of her tongue. 

In return, the hand that’d clawed into her shoulder melts. It’s still there; a gravity that keeps her fettered to porcelain, and epoxy resin, and slick cock between her thighs.

“Alright?” — something that spills out through pants, strained, and at first, it doesn’t even register that he’s asking a question. He’s checking in. Her fingers scrape over the escutcheon. 

It should feel pathetic — it does, when she responds to the sputter, like a slow roll over the brake pedal, in his pace with a low whine and a haphazard roll backwards, if it even counts as that. The nudge doesn’t earn her the same blissful stretch as when he pounds, but it gets him just that much deeper. Just enough to feel him burrow where he belongs. It spumes through every major artery — shame, and it spills into the crest of her cheekbones, ruddy and coated with mascara. He bottoms out— like, really bottoms out. The bleary reflection of a cinch tightens between her brows when he sloppily coils her hair into a makeshift pony over his knuckles, in almost immediate response, and yanks, craning her neck back. 

“Stay still,” Harry hisses. It’s dominion through the cracks of his teeth. Augury, promise, something wound tight. Submit. Her scalp tingles with a familiar sting. “I asked you a question.” 

There’s still hair wrung over one fist when the other hand cradles her throat. The chill of his rings bites. “…If you don’t answer, I’ll stop.” 

“I’m— keep— yes,” she whimpers, agreeing with her chin in juts that makes the throb at the crown of her head radiate.

A fizzle seeps from the unseal of her lips. He lures her head back harder just to sponge a kiss to her temple, another to the wet corner of her eyes. Tastes salt when he pulls off and licks out his mouth. His fingers unweave. 

“…I’m sorry for disrespecting you.”

She only meets green in the mirror for a moment before he angles his hips and sets a nasty tempo with his thrusts, like he fucking hates her, bracketing her hips with his meaty palms, tongue tucked to the backs of his teeth. 

“Yeah, you fucking are.” 

It’s an anchor; this brutality. These fingers sunk into her skin and muscle with iron, the way he spits filth, eyebrows pinched, with little hiccups of breathy grunts and groans splintering his speech. Like clandestine gyves fettering her to the cold press of the sink, his hard grip, her own body. 

She does look the part of a proper, dirty whore getting fucked in a public bathroom of some bar, just like he’d earlier suggested. A strand of frizzy hair dangles over her face — stitches gone loose where skin meets a hairline — swaying with every harsh plunge of his hips. Her eyes are watery, glazed by rapture, a conglomeration of chemicals surging through her bloodstream, coaxed by each and every hard pump from behind. What little residue of ink that’d slicked her lashes lingers in clumps and muddles onto the skin beneath, smoked in sullied smudges. Whore stares back in the mirror; clustered, sopping lashes, a ruddy-tipped nose, the shape of a mouth smeared and wide, tethered between holding his gaze and seeping back behind her skull. A doll that makes noise at the brush of a button when he folds over and his fingers slip between her legs to bully her clit. 

Someone knocks. 

“Be a good girl,” Harry huffs, face creased with fervor as his hips snap and his digits roll frantically sloppy circles over the bud, “and tell them that we’re occupied.” 

All Isla can manage, as he pinches between her legs and pummels in, is a wordless hum through a sealed pink pout, features twisting helplessly; a crinkle to her nose, a downturn at the edges of her mouth. 

“You wanna cum?” Harry sputters to a grind, something that rolls wall to wall and pins, fingers slotting to her clit in a V that runs slick and doesn’t quite hone where she needs it. He murmurs against the shell of her ear, “Hm? S’that what you want?” 

She takes a moment, maybe to process that he’s slowed his priorly cruel rhythm into something crueler, and as his balls grind against her clit, settle over a rigid V, Isla whines and nudges back against him in protest. Then, there’s fingers digging into a lovehandle, sharply, gone altogether as her head is wrangled ahead.

“Fucking look at me. You wanna cum?” 

Her eyes blink open. There’s something feral pasted to her back in the reflection. 

“Tell them we’re busy. Tell them we’re busy, or I'll stop.” 

Another knock from the door paralleling their shapes; antsy knuckles snapping over steel. Slowly, Isla nods. Starts. 

“It’s—“

Harry pulls off and out, snapping his hips forward with little warning. It jolts her into the body of the basin and stifles all progress of semblance. Before her eyes roll back into her skull, she manages to catch the vista of him, devilish, mouth curling in wicked ploy. Isla groans loud enough for the entire hallway to hear. 

“Occupied,” he slams his fist against the door. One knock back for two; no more follow. His eyes veer ahead, “Get yourself off. Want you gushing over me.” 

Her fingers reach her clit with wild hunger, parroting the filthy shapes he’d drawn into her flesh as he plunges in to the hilt, out to head, back — hungry, hungry, hungry. He chases it, the hot squeeze of her pussy tensing over every ridge of a vein, every millimeter he offers. How can he not, to such a sweet embrace? He could strum her like a guitar, his taut string to pluck by a fingertip. She tenses, scrabbling at the sink with one spasming hand, the other drawn where the tips of her digits can brush where they mesh. 

“Oh, fuck— please— can I—?”

Habit. Something he’s nailed into her, time after time, crushed through flesh. Please’s and Thank you’s, Can I’s and May I’s. And now, the sinew has healed around it; this new norm. It furrows in between his pecs, this nasty satisfaction. His. 

“Go on,” he spurs, tempo haywire as she jolts over the sink, like every muscle is washed in electricity, and throbs over his cock. He makes her watch; the way she tips, his fingers tangled in her hair and angling. 

And he chases it harder. Bounding. A precipice in the depths, between her legs. The tide rises, coils up in tsunami from between his laurels. His mouth shapes a gruff garble of her name when he spills, pulsing, burrowing in as far as he can get. 

“Shit,” Harry breathes.

Her head sways and sags when he lets go of her hair, shuddering over the sink and panting. When Harry tucks his way out of her, she clenches like she misses him again. Don’t go. Stay. A little rivulet in cream leaks out, and he brushes it back inside with the pad of a forefinger. 

“Hold it,” Harry demands, but it’s soft, like hands brushing her hair back. He pulls her gusset back over, pleased. 

She’s still shuddering and folded over the sink when Harry tucks himself back into his slacks, petting at the small of her back. He buckles up, pressing the fronts of firm thighs to the naked backs of her own, a sort of grounding to the foundation before he has the opportunity to stroke his hands all over her in gentle respite. 

“Feeling full?” he teases. Strokes his fingertips over her underwear, where the fabric’s begun to grow wet from his release. Isla rocks back in response. Like asking for more, like asking for anchoring. Pull the ship back to the shoreline. 

Harry rolls the dress that he’d bunched up back over her curves, smoothing and sorting her out. That’s what happens now; smoothing the crinkles with a warm press like a plugged iron. It starts at her waist, in the cinch, where he combs his hands up her sides to fondle at the ribcage and the bit of flesh there, and then meanders up her shoulders, thumbing at her nape. 

“Good?” Harry mumbles. There’s a twitch in his mouth at the way she rolls her neck, still silent over the basin, and nods. 

Good sex or good manhandling over her shoulders, thumbs drawing circles beside the vertebrae under her nape, Isla’s unsure. Good…

“M’proud of you,” he tells her. 

It’s a sudden compliment — shatters the silence and has her deltoids and traps stiffening under his palms. It’s like he senses it, probably feels it under his fingers. Isla imagines his brow bone furrowing as she raises her head to look back at him. 

“For what?” 

“For being honest with yourself.” 

She braces against the sink and unfolds into his back, twisting into the caress that climbs up the side of her throat. Harry doesn’t kiss on her, almost like he’s afraid, pending in limbo from the typical. He does drag up over the crest of her cheekbone, though. She eyes the onyx thumb pad that retires. 

“How fucked is my makeup?” 

“Pretty fucked, pet,” Harry tells her, rolling his lips into his mouth as if to muzzle back the beginnings of dimpled grin (she feels she’s been starved of for ages). 

“Fuck.” 

She swivels to catch a glimpse of the madwoman — now, makiage dismembered — in the mirror, but pivots back into the warm press of his hand over the fleshy margin of her cheek when he prompts by unceremoniously grasping at the bones in her jaw. He culls a paper towel, wets it with a flick over the faucet, and runs it over under a socket to catch smudges. Aftercare, in a manner. Something stirs on his face — trickles as a huff of laughter. 

“Fuck,” Harry echoes, sponging over warm, smeared skin, more, more, and then— “I don’t know that I can save this, Isla.” 

She peers into the mirror. 

“Jesus Christ, what did you do to me?” 

“—Not that much,” Harry reasons, the frame of his arms serving as chocks for her to the basin. He plants his hands on either side from behind, and then raises one to roam up her tummy as she wipes, ruddy skin streaking in patchwork, “…Not even close to the usual."

A balmy heat murmurs through her at the implication and throbs when he tucks his chin over her trapezius, partly shrouded by her hair, and hums, “This is a sexy dress, by the way. Did I tell you that?” 

Isla leans into him. It’s the closest to normalcy she’s felt in the last two weeks. It tapers when she sets the sopped paper at the edge of the sink, scared to ask (splinter the rapture of soles on eggshells, crowding land mines). 

“…What now?”

Harry shifts. His palm no longer strokes over her stomach, but rests on the basin behind her own. Brushes at her wrist with the tip of his pinky when he declares, “I want to see you.” 

Isla doesn’t twist back to face him, or look into the reflection ahead. 

“See me …how?” 

“See you like this. I wanna see Isla.” 

There’s that foggy murk behind her skull, that smog that dazes words, all too familiarly. Harry breathes behind her. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” 

“I was planning to mope.” 

It’s simple. He rocks up behind her, and she imagines a close-lipped smile curling his mouth. 

“Any way you can find a couple of hours somewhere in that busy schedule to see me?” 

Isla blinks and meets him in the mirror. 

“Like a… date?”

“Like a date.” 

She keeps the hand with the towel on ceramic. Lets the mucky wad go to let him wheedle his palm over her own and slot his fingers in the webbed gaps. 

Harry tacks on, “If you’re comfortable with that.”

She wants to turn into his embrace, nuzzle into the broad expanse of his chest and scope the shapes of his features with her fingertips; the slope of his nose, the upturned corner of plush pink below. Ghost over a cupid’s bow. She tilts her head and squeezes over his digits. 

“And what… now?”

“Now, now?”

“Now, now.”

“Now… we,” fingers notch firmer into those gaps — the crevices between her digits longing for his touch the way the oozing cavity in her chest has pined, “—go out there, and you… sit there, look pretty. Pretend you didn’t just get fucked.” 

He swaths her wrist with the bangle; a missing limb, nearly — a piece of her that’d been rived with something the size of a thimble. A piece of him. 

Nobody says a word when they return to the booth. A kind of acceptance — knowing. A sort of respectful retreat in the sideline of Sam’s eyes when he skims and retires. Miryea talks with her eyebrows. Later. It’s even quieter when Isla slips into the nook under his arm, and then something flourishes in the lull. Normalcy. Stable footing. The conversation kicks back up.  

She’s wet between her thighs. Not a pulsating warmth that yearns, but a sticky film of his cum that’s sullied her, tucked up in her underwear. It weeps out over the course of the night. She crosses her legs. Uncrosses them. It seeps, and his hand roams down the small of her back. She coddled by the leather cushion of a booth and him. It purrs in the depths of her chest; something satiated and warm. 

He coils into the chasm with an outstretched offering; a manhattan stacked with a mountain of cherries.

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #dom harry styles #harry smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #mean dom h #harry styles x oc #harry x oc #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

[milaisreading]

Maybe Ness rambling about his interests, but gets quite thing y/n would think he's weird or annoying.

Y/n notices it and tell him that she loves seeing this side of him. Just overall someone loving ness as ness. My baby needs it 🤧🤧

🌱🩷: Hope u are fine with this!! Thanks for the request 🩷

Warning: Reader is crossdressing so I am using a mix of she/her and he/him. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

'Kaiser... He isn't paying any attention to me... Ever since Isagi spoke back to him he has been more distant with me. He just tells me what to do. But, it's not like I can say anything back. I have nobody but him. He is my only friend-'

"Ness. Ness. Ness!"

The magenta-eyed boy shook himself out of his thoughts as he heard (Y/n)'s voice and felt her shake his shoulders.

"What?" Ness looked back at her, blinking in confusion as the girl raised an eyebrow.

"Are you ok? You look lost." He flinched at her words and glanced at Kaiser, who was annoying Isagi and Kurona.

"I am fine. Did you need anything?" Ness asked while looking back at her.

"Can I sit here and eat? Gesner and Grim want to sit here as well."

(Y/n) said as she pointed at the two boys behind her.

"Uhm... Sure." The boy nodded his head slowly as the three sat down and started eating.

"Are we practicing today?" Gesner wondered as he looked at (Y/n), who slowly nodded her head.

"Sure. You guys wanted to practice passes, anyway."

"Wait... You two are working with him? Are you betraying Kaiser?" Ness asked the two Germans with an irritated tone, earning a sigh from Grim.

"No, we are not. On the field we are on Kaiser's side, but off the field we hang out."

"Calm down, Ness. Nobody is going against the king, or whatever." Gesner laughed and continued eating. Ness growled a little in irritation, but stopped as (Y/n) put a plate on his tray.

"What is that?" Ness raised an eyebrow, recognizing that it was one of the chocolate puddings he liked at the facility.

"You told me you liked that pudding, you can have it. I am not much of a fan of it." (Y/n) shrugged, taking a bite from her rice and chicken. Ness' eyes widened for a moment and gulped as he looked down at the food.

"You... How did you know?"

"What do you mean how do I know?" (Y/n) raised an eyebrow and gulped down her food.

"You told me that. You said you liked it so much since that was what you mom made you when you were sick."

"You... You listened?" Ness asked in shock as (Y/n) slowly nodded her head.

"I might not look like it, but I do pay attention." She said, a little offended and started eating again.

The magenta-eyed boy could feel his heartbeat pick up for a moment as he stared at (Y/n), who was busy talking with Grim about something he couldn't catch.

'He cared enough to remember this... He cared enough to give me his dessert... Something Kaiser never did.' Ness glanced at the blonde and shook his head. No! He can't betray Kaiser like that! He shouldn't have someone else in mind! He slowly ate a spoon full of the pudding as a blush appeared on his face. For some reason, today's pudding tasted a lot sweeter.

'They probably changed the ingredients.'

Later...

"Haaa... Hair washing is so nice~" (Y/n) hummed to herself as she walked to her bed while drying he rhair with a towel. Ness looked away from one of his books he was reading and glanced at her instead.

"Why do you wash your hair always first and then shower?"

"Hm? I don't know. I always washed my hair first and then showered." She shrugged he shoulders and glanced at the book Ness was reading before she walked inside.

"What's that?" The girl stopped with the hair drying and looked in curiosity at the book. It was dark purple with a few golden stars on it. Ness at first thought she was joking, but the genuineness in her voice and eyes quickly told him something else. Taking in a deep breath, the boy contemplated for a moment.

'Should I tell him? Whatever, he will laugh at me either way...'

"It's a book I had ever since I was little. It's a story about witches and wizards."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened a little, surprised he was into those things.

"You like magic?"

Unconsciously, Ness smiled and nodded his head as he started going off on his explanation.

"Yeah! Ever since I was little I liked magic, magical creatures! The fantasy world is so interesting and the best way to escape everything! I have had this book since I was 7, actually! It talks about a boy who embarks on a journey to find- Oh..."

(Y/n) blinked as she saw Ness quickly shut up and look back at his book, face red in embarrassment.

"Embarks on a journey to find what exactly?"

"You were listening? Do you really want to know?"

Ness' head shot up to look at (Y/n) in surprise. This... this was the first time someone cared?

"Yeah? What is it about?"

'Weird. He has been acting off ever since this morning.' (Y/n) thought as Ness gave her a huge smile and started rambling about the story. The girl tried to keep up with what he was saying, nodding every once in a while and asking questions as signs that she was listening.

'Well, if it makes him happy.' She smiled a little, enjoying the rare moments of peace she had with the German.

This continued on for the next few days, Ness would talk about random interests he had with (Y/n) sharing some of her own. The boy would try to keep up with what she was telling him as he didn't want to come off as rude for not remembering anything. Noa, just like the rest of the team were surprised how much the usually bickering duo talked. It looked more like two friends talking than two guys who didn't like each other. And, while (Y/n) for the most part stayed oblivious, or enjoyed the peace, Ness did notice the shift. He noticed it when he would miss her presence during his practices with Kaiser, when she would leave him to eat with one of her Blue lock friends. He just felt alone. He didn't like it. But, Ness knew that things were meant to be like this. She served Isagi as his midfielder, and Ness was Kaiser's. There was nothing the German could do. Or, was there?

Ness felt weird ever since the match against PXG started. He didn't like the feeling of being stuck at Kaiser's side. He didn't like the closeness Charles and Shidou showed towards (Y/n). And most importantly, he didn't like her loyalty towards Isagi!

'I hate this! Why can't he score for himself?!' Ness gritted his teeth as he stole the ball from Shidou and looked ahead to where Kaiser was. This was the blonde's chance to make up for the failed goal from earlier!

'But...' Ness stopped and so did (Y/n) who as she looked at Ness in confusion.

'Why did he stop? Kaiser is right there.' She looked at the confused blonde, then back at Ness.

"Here! Do with it what you want! I don't care!'

The girl's eyes widened as Ness kicked the ball towards her. Hiori and Isagi were stunned as well as they looked at Ness, the boy hiding a blush and ignoring Kaiser's yells as (Y/n) kicked the ball towards Hiori who would assist this time.

"Ness?" The girl questioned as the boy ignored her as well.

'This isn't good for my heart at all!!' Ness yelled on the inside as he put his hand over his racing heart.

'I hate it so much that I love you!'

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock scenarios #crossdressing #blue lock requests #alexis ness #bllk ness #blue lock ness #alexis ness x reader #alexis ness x you

[seventeenpins]

a little domesticity

pairing: Tess x F!Reader word count: 2.3k summary: You discover it's Tess's birthday. You decide you want to make it special. Tess fingers you while you cook her dinner. Same universe as Drive Me Home if you like?? content/warnings: basically just porn, no implied age gap, this is so domestic!!!!, established but new-ish relationship, lil bit of daddy Tess, fingering, very mild degradation, no outbreak or pre-outbreak AU, pet names (baby, honey), Tess works at a high-powered but undefined job a/n: For @ozarkthedog 🩷 Congrats on your 11k, and happy birthday Ozzie!! You've given us so much with your celebration, but you should be the one getting gifts! I know this is pretty extraordinarily late (sorry, love) but I hope you like it 😚

You are determined not to have to make two trips. Tess's apartment is up five flights, the elevator is on the fritz, and your legs already ache from the gym yesterday. You want to do anything you can to not have to go back and forth.

Three grocery bags hang off your left hand and two on your right, slowly cutting off any remaining circulation. A bottle of wine and a gallon of milk are tucked into your elbows as you heave yourself up the steps. Grocery shopping is a truly Sisyphean task, and the slog up to the apartment only confirms this.

By the time you turn the corner past the fourth landing, you're cursing yourself. It's so much. You know your arms will be aching, but of course you're stubborn enough to overdo it.

Finally, you make it to the fifth floor landing, and Tess's door is the third on the right. It's inelegant, trying to keep the bags steady while shoving your hand into your pocket to dig around for your keys. Your fingers are verging on numbness, and right as you move the key to the lock, you fumble and drop it.

That's the moment you hear the phone ring inside.

It sends you into a rush, and in your haste, you drop half the bags and still don't manage to open the door before the ringing stops.

Instead, you swing the door open right as the beep of the answering machine sounds, a bunch of bananas and a bag of English muffins fallen at your feet.

A man's voice chimes out, tinny and a little distorted.

"Tess! It's Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you well, and Sarah, too. I'll catch you later."

Then you hear the click of a receiver, and the machine stops.

You frown. Leave the groceries where they're sat and rewind the tape a few seconds. Hit play.

"'S Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you--"

You click it off.

He definitely said Tess. And 'happy birthday'.

So why the fuck didn't Tess tell you it was her birthday?

You know it's not really a big deal. Maybe she's just not a birthday person. It wouldn't really surprise you; there's a nonchalance that she exudes that sometimes throws you off .

If you're honest, though, you love birthdays. The gift-giving. Getting to make a fuss over your loved ones. And, you reason, if the Millers can wish her well, then it's probably not a sore spot for her.

More than anything, you've been wanting an excuse to celebrate her. Maybe this can be it?

As you prop the door open and begin to drag the grocery bags in, as you scrubbing the produce and putting everything away, you allow a plan to form.

It's been a long day but a good day. Work was a series of tasks that required some creative problem solving, and Tess felt like a fucking magician the way she'd been kicking ass and putting out fires.

Trekking up the innumerable steps, she felt suddenly lighter when she remembered that you had offered to make dinner.

From the moment she turns the key in the lock, she immediately starts salivating.

"Babe?" she calls, shucking off her shoes and shrugging off her jacket.

"In here-" you call back.

A moment later, soft footfalls are padding into the kitchen, and she's slipping her arms around you. She rests her chin on your shoulder and surveys the scene in front of you both.

"Shit, hon, this smells amazing."

You do a happy wiggle against her and start pointing out everything in turn. "So, we've got garlic tossed broccolini. Parsnip ravioli in that one, only has a minute or so left. I'm just starting the sauce now, so it'll be a few minutes before everything's ready, but you've made it in perfect time."

"Ugh," Tess groans, appreciative, "You spoil me. What's the occasion?"

"OH, don't let me drain the pasta water without saving some."

"I got you," she promises, sliding past you to grab two beers from the fridge. She notices when your eyes linger on her hands as she pops the bottle caps. "Careful, don't burn-- whatever you've got on the flame there."

With a shake of your head, you roll your eyes. "But seriously, is that a real question, or are you testing me?"

She frowns. Hands you a bottle and takes a swig of her own, sliding back behind you. She presses against you and wraps her arms around your waist.

"What are you talking about?"

You grind your ass back a little more and she puts one hand on your hip, but now she's smiling at you, mildly puzzled.

"Do you know what the date is today?"

"Oh shit, did I forget something important?" she detaches. "Did I forget our anniversary?"

"You tell me." You nod your head towards the calendar hanging on the fridge. "I'll help you out, it's a Tuesday today. And we've only been together six months. And you brought me flowers for that, like, a week ago."

She stares at the calendar for a moment and then looks at you. Looks back and forth.

"I--"

She's frozen in an incredulous frown.

"Happy birthday, honey," you tell her.

"I can't believe I fucking forgot. And how did you know?" she laughs.

"Hah," you laugh, "Answering machine went off when I got in. Your friend, Joel, he was calling to wish you well."

She snorts. "Fuckin' Miller saves the day?" Then she looks you up and down. "And you, baby, you've definitely saved the day." She looks over the spread again and notices the counter covered in flour, the kitchenaid with a roller attachment, a piping bag nearly fully emptied, and various pastry cutters. "Shit, did you make all this yourself?"

"The ravioli? Sure did. Just wanted an excuse to spoil you."

Tess plants a kiss on your lips and you moan into her mouth. When you pull apart, you're panting.

"Now," you tell her, suddenly serious, "I prioritized dinner and didn't have a chance to get you a present."

"Oh, hon, you don't have to-"

You cut her off, waggling your eyebrows. "But you do still have someone to unwrap."

"Don't have to tempt me, honey," she grins.

"Just let me finish up with dinner-"

She has a different idea. "I bet you can finish up while I open my present."

You snort. "Be patient."

"I don't have to be patient--it's my birthday."

"Tess, I-"

She ignores you, pressing gentle kisses down the side of your throat.

She know's it's a guaranteed horny button for you, and she exploits that weakness mercilessly. You have to fight not to melt. Even so, you let your eyes flutter closed, bathing in the sensation and not wanting anything to stop or change. She lets you relax into it for a moment, before bumping her hip against you, nudging you forward.

"Go on, baby. Better keep cooking. I'm hungry."

You let out a deep breath and snap yourself back. You spark the cooktop and place down the sauté pan. (You prefer cooking at Tess's apartment. Hers has a gas range. Yours has electric.)

After checking the temperature, you place a stick of butter in the pan. Tess runs her hands up and down your sides at a leisurely pace. Just her touch is enough to make you weak kneed again.

She passes you a slotted wooden spatula and you start to push the stick of butter around, watching it sizzle and melt as Tess makes you melt. You hear the clink of her own belt before you feel her undoing the button of your jeans.

Your pasta timer dings and the moment is broken. You grab the pan and are about to drain it in the colander you have set up in the sink, but before you can tip it out, Tess stops you.

"Hold up, hon, save that pasta water."

"Shit! Yep, nearly forgot it."

You set a liquid measuring jug beneath the colander and let the pasta drain, before taking the pasta water and turning back to the melting butter.

Tess's hands are back on you, pulling down your zipper now. She shimmies your jeans past your hips, kneading your ass with one hand as she trails the other from your belly button lower and lower and lower-

You start to lose focus on dinner and can only pay attention to her.

Tess slips her hand down your front and gasps when she gets to your bare cunt, hot and wanting. You're wearing no underwear, clothed only in the curls between your thighs.

"Naughty girl," she praises, and you swoon as she starts stroking her fingertips along your cunt, collecting your wetness and smearing it on your clit before pressing harsh circles into you that make you shudder and squirm deliciously.

"Don't let the butter burn," Tess chides, and you blink your eyes open, reaching for the utensil and moving the last of the unmelted butter around the pan, watching it start to foam at the edges.

"What else do you need, hon?" she asks, "Got all your ingredients?

You glance around. The sage is there. The pasta water. Garlic. Pepper.

"Uh-huh."

"Good," Tess says, "'Cause I'm gonna need you to stay put and focus."

A surge of heat pulses through you and you feel Tess's breath on your neck, a delicious sigh.

You add sage leaves to the browning butter, savouring the sudden aroma as the sage begins to heat, releasing its fragrance.

Tess resumes her work, slipping your jeans down to your ankles and guiding you to step out, all the while you stir the pan.

As the sage sizzles in the butter, she presses a finger against your folds, finding your opening, and eliciting a gasp from you as she enters you with two long fingers.

Finding a rhythm, she starts pumping the digits, pulling whines and moans from you, pausing only to let you smash the peeled garlic with the palm of your hand against the flat of a chef's knife and mince it a little more. You toss it into the pan and, once the knife is out of your hand, she resumes.

Two fingers become three, and as you splash the pasta water in with the butter and sage and yelp as she picks up the pace.

"Love those lovely little whines you make for me. All those sweet noises, that's all for me, huh?"

"For you," you agree, another whine escaping.

"Messy fuckin' hole, taking my fingers so good. Such a good girl, baby," she praises, and you don't realise she's not referring to you until she says, "Look at her, gettin' all puffy and wrecked."

You let out another sound, this one closer to a growl. You can feel yourself beginning to drip down her hand as she fucks her digits into you, pressing into you so nicely, working you open, making your knees quake.

"Sweet little pussy opening right up for me. Think she can take another?

"Fuck, daddy, please-"

Trying to keep stirring while she works on you is a near impossibility. With a focus that can't be anything less than witchcraft, she smacks your cheek while you're moaning, eyes closed and keening.

"Don't let it burn," she scolds, and your eyes snap back open.

The sauce has started to thicken, and you turn down the flame so you can take a moment to grind yourself deeper onto Tess's hand.

"Wanna put on the strap?" you ask. "Want me to put on the strap?"

"I'd take either," she admits with a laugh, "But the dishwasher's running."

"Fuck."

"Did you just put the cycle on?"

"Yep. Are our dicks in the dishwasher?"

"Our dicks are in the dishwasher."

You let out a whine. She just maintains her pace and rubbing a fingertip in blinding, tight circles around your clit.

"Poor baby," she teases, "I barely have to play with you and your cute lil hole soaks me like a fuckin' whore. You're so fucking easy."

"Hnnnggg-"

"My pretty little slut. Just gotta give me one, baby, just one and I'll let you finish dinner."

Another whine.

"C'mon, honey, I feel you gettin' close. Clenchin' on daddy's fingers. Fuck, cum for me baby, let me feel you-"

She reaches around you and turns off the flame, the fingers of her other hand pumping faster and rougher. You're bent forward, gripping the counter for support, as you feel yourself start to tip over.

"Fuuuuckkk-" you cum with a cry, Tess's fingers working you through it as her other hand wraps around your waist, steadying you. You hear the splash of your release against the laminate floor as she keeps going, pumping her fingers fast and deep, hitting just the right spot, dragging your orgasm out longer than you knew yourself capable of.

It takes a couple of minutes, coming back down. You feel your slick cooling on your thighs and turn around to see Tess leaning against the hallway behind you, grinning wickedly as she licks her fingers one by one.

"You're gonna be the death of me," you tell her, and she slides back behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Not allowed to die. It's my birthday."

"Hmmph," you roll your eyes and begin to plate up.

The groan Tess lets out as she takes her first bite is more than worth it.

"Fucking fuck, honey, I mean- holy shit this is so good."

You grin. "Glad you like it."

"I know what I'm having for dessert," Tess smirks, waggling her eyebrows.

"Yeah," you agree, "I made you a tart."

"You're my tart."

You roll your eyes again. "I am, but I made one special for you. Dessert first, then you can eat me as much as you like."

Tess nods solemnly before breaking into another grin. "Thank you honey."

"Happy birthday, baby."

#tess servopoulos fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tess servopoulos x reader #tess x reader #tess x f!reader #okay it should PROBABLY be your birthday rather than hers but this is what flowed pls forgive meeeee

[owlwithanapple]

Bird & Fox

Chapter 6

You took out a few clothes from the closet and put them on the bed to choose the right outfit. The experience of watching a movie with friends for the first time is something you have never experienced before. You feel inexplicably excited and looking forward to it.

You wear a simple white sleeveless dress and a pair of black short boots. Short boots are your exclusive style. They make your legs look thinner and longer, it is more convenient to move.

You stare at the locked room next door, which is where you store your equipment. It seems that you can't wander around tonight. You don't have the free time to play, you skip work today.

It's already four o'clock. It's almost time to get ready. You clean the house briefly to make sure it's clean, and go to the kitchen to get Kirin's dog food dinner ready in case he gets hungry.

You stripped naked and ran into the bathroom to take a hot shower. You squeezed some floral shower gel and applied it evenly to every part of your body. You washed off the soap on body and dried it.

You simply matched your hairstyle with a white headband. Because dressing up is not something you are good at, you chose a blue tote bag to store your things.

More than half of the time has passed. You have matched your outfit and posed then smiled in front of the mirror. The mirror reflects that the clock hanging on the wall is already 6:30pm. You quickly make sure that nothing else is missing before you go out.

Jason can't enter the parking lot without an access card, you sit in the entrance, put on your short boots, pick up your bag and leave home. You press the elevator to let the door open and walk in. You take out your phone and comb your bangs.

Suddenly you receive a message and click on it to see that it is Jason.

🏍️: Stay tuned.

🐶: Oh yea!

Jason POV

I left home an hour early went to a nearby flower shop to look at flowers. I didn't know if tonight was a date for her, but I wanted her to feel that I was serious about it.

The flower shop was filled with all kinds of flowers. I only now realized that there were so many kinds of flowers. I was dazzled by them, but they were so beautiful and moving. This is the beauty brought by flowers.

"Sir, what kind of flowers do you want to buy?"

"I want to buy flowers for a girl. Do you have any recommendations?"

He handed me a bouquet of roses. "Red roses are the most suitable for girls. They represent romance and passion."

I looked at the roses in his hand and was puzzled. "Hmm..."

Giving red roses to girls is indeed the best choice, representing romanticism, but her temperament gave me a feeling that she not suitable for red roses, I didn't know what color should be used to describe her.

I looked around in the flower shop to find out what flowers were most suitable for her. According to her simple, generous, lively and cheerful personality, she maybe suitable for yellow flowers, but I didn't think yellow was suitable for her.

I scratched my hair, I could just keep it simple and give red roses, but red roses were still not suitable. I liked her a little bit, and she thought I was her friend, it couldn't just be my wishful thinking to give her a gift.

When I couldn't make up my mind, I saw a bunch of pure white fresh lilies in front of me. I took a closer look immediately determined that this flower was what I was looking for.

"Hey! This is it." I immediately asked him to help me wrap it up. I chose ten lilies and added some blue baby's breath as decoration. I chose black paper as the base color and matched it with blue ribbon. Black can better reflect the effect of white.

I returned to the car and carefully placed the bouquet on the passenger seat. There was still 30 minutes of free time. I went to her apartment building to wait for her in advance. I sent her a message.

🏍️: Stay tuned.

🐶: Oh yea!

After receiving her reply, I started to get a little nervous. The air conditioner in the car was obviously very cool, but my body was hot. It might be an illusion caused by nervousness. This feeling is really the first time I have experienced it.

After waiting for a while, I saw a girl coming out. She was wearing a white dress, black short boots and a blue tote bag. The colors seemed to match the ones I had chosen for the flowers.

"Huh?!" What a coincidence! The colors were exactly the same. I was surprised. It was really her! She was looking around for me, I immediately got out of the car with the flowers to pick her up.

Y/N POV

The elevator door opens after it arrives. You put your phone in your bag and walk out of the elevator with a smile on your face. When you arrive outside, you look around for Jason, but he is nowhere to be seen.

You kick the pebbles on the roadside to pass the time. You sense that someone is approaching from behind. You clench your fists. As soon as you turn around, you know it is a dangerous person. You kick him. He taps your shoulder with his fingers.

You immediately turn around and see someone holding a bouquet of flowers to block his face. You are a little startled, but when you look closely, it is a beautiful bouquet of lilies. Maybe you are blocking his way. You back a few steps to make way for him, but he does not move.

"Hey, are you waiting for me?" He takes the flowers away to reveal his face.

You were surprised because you saw Jason, "Hey! What are you doing?"

He handed you the bouquet, "For you."

You happily took the bouquet from his hand, "Thank you, the flowers are beautiful."

You carefully and gently touched the petals, looking at the color of the bouquet in your hand, such a pure and gentle white. You looked at Jason's face happily, not knowing how to react, and then stepped on him.

"Ouch..." He laughed out loud.

You secretly laughed, "Why did you buy flowers..."

"You don't like it?"

You shook your head, "No, I like it very much."

He looked in another direction, smiling slightly, and you saw that he looked happy. It seems that he is in a good mood today, which is also a good thing for you.

Suddenly he looked at you with a smirk, "I'll show you something."

You put your hand on your chin, "Hmm..."

He took out the car keys from his pocket and told you proudly, "Suprise! I'm driving my own car today."

You put your hands on your cheeks, "Nani!"

You followed the direction he pointed with his thumb and saw a bright red cool sports car behind. You ran to the car with shining eyes to admire it. It was unbelievable that there was such a cool car in front of you.

"Lamborghini Aventador LP700. How is it? It's much cooler than my dad's car." He smiled proudly.

You bowed and said, "Indeed, your car is very cool." Then he kicked him.

Before your foot kicked down, he took a step back and said proudly, "Nonono, I won't fall for it again."

You pouted and said, "Tsk."

"Get in the car."

He opened the door for you, sat in the passenger seat and fastened your seat belt. You looked around and saw that the interior space was really first-class. You have never sat in more than ten luxury cars in your life.

You couldn't close your mouth. It was so cool that you couldn't describe it. How much money would it cost to buy this car?

Jason got in the car and burst out laughing when he saw your expression “Hahahaha! What’s that expression on your face?!”

You closed your mouth and glared at him angrily, "You laughed at me..."

"I just think your expression is cute, nothing else."

When you heard him praise you for being cute, you glanced at him, his ears were a little red, was he blushing because he praised you for being cute, sometimes it's hard to tell what people are thinking.

You noticed something, there were marks of being beaten on his cheeks and chin, you were sure no marks on his face yesterday, based on your experience, it was the kind of heavy beating on the face.

But you couldn't directly tell the facts you saw, if Jason found out that you were different, it would be bad, all you could do now was to comfort and care for him, maybe he had an accident and got injured, you tried not to ask too much.

You held his face with both hands and turned him to face you, you carefully reached out to touch his face, slowly stroking from his cheek to his chin and lips, while you were touching him his eyes were always on your face, he quietly let you touch his face.

"What's wrong with your face?"

He held your hands that were holding his face and just shook his head, "I was robbed this morning, it's okay."

Your eyes widened, "Huh?!"

He laughed, "It's okay, he just punched me a few times."

You let go of your hands and punched his chest, "What do you mean it's okay! Your face is like this, have you seen a doctor?"

For some reason, he kept smiling and said, "The doctor said it's okay, really."

You breathed a sigh of relief and patted his shoulder, "I was scared."

He touched your hair, "So…Want to have dinner?"

You leaned back in the seat smiled and nodded, "I'm hungry~"

He turned the steering wheel with one hand and drove the car onto the road. A song was playing in the car. You could hear Jason humming while driving, and you slowly blended into the music with the song.

You looked at the scenery outside the window. You saw more sunshine since coming to Gotham City than before. This city is so dark, but even the sunset is so bright and brilliant. You exhaled inadvertently.

From the reflection in the car window, you can see Jason looking over from time to time. When you stop at the traffic light, you turn your head to look at him. His eyes don't leave you. You wonder if there is something on your face.

You hurriedly take your phone out of your bag and turn on the selfie mode to find your face, but there is nothing strange on your face. You put the phone back into your bag, curious about what he is looking at.

You want to ask but he interrupts you, "You look very beautiful today. I'm serious."

You blinked a few times, feeling confused and overwhelmed by his praise again. He said again that what he said was true, and a strange feeling appeared that made you feel happy.

"Thanks for the compliment, handsome." You winked at him.

The traffic light turned green, he stepped on the accelerator and continued to drive towards the restaurant. On the way, you were looking forward to what kind of food tonight's dinner would be. In the past, you always ate very light food.

Arriving at the restaurant, he parked the car and asked me to wait in the car first. The design style of the restaurant looked very unique and chic from the outside. It was a wood-themed restaurant. Jason said that not only the food here was delicious, but also the music was good and there was a live band singing.

Jason approached the passenger door, he knocked on the car window opened the door for you and stretched out his hand "Beautiful lady~"

You laughed and held his hand left the car "Beautiful lady starving~"

He closed the passenger door and walked to your side "What are you waiting for!"

"Huh!?" You were startled and he suddenly ran away.

He started running towards the restaurant. You were confused and quickly chased after him. This guy dared to cheat and not wait for you to go with him. Fortunately, you chose a pair of short boots today, otherwise you would not be able to catch up with him.

When you ran to the door of the restaurant, you two looked at each other and couldn't help laughing. You thought to yourself, what the hell is going on? Why are you running on the road? The restaurant won't close suddenly. You were amused by him.

"Why are you running all of a sudden!" You laughed out loud.

He breathed a sigh of relief, "I just thought it was fun! Hahahaha!"

He opened the door for you let you go in first. You nodded to him to express your gratitude and walked in. He followed behind and closed the door. He took you to the reserved seat.

You got closer to the seat and saw that he really knew how to choose the seat. He chose a seat where could watch the live band performance up close. He pulled out a chair for you to sit down. You sat down and looked around the restaurant.

You blurted out "What a beautiful place."

"The most important thing is that you like it."

You open the menu on the table and look excitedly to see what's delicious. There are all kinds of Western dishes. In addition to the main dishes, the desserts in the restaurant are not only beautiful, but also the best-selling.

You smile greedily at the dessert page on the menu. Your feet are shaking under the table. You really want to skip the main dishes and eat the dessert directly. The thick layer of chocolate is poured on the ice cream, and there are many fruits on the side.

Jason POV

After I ordered, I put down the menu in my hand and wanted to ask her if she had chosen what she wanted to order. I saw the girl sitting in front of me with shining eyes. I glanced at which page of the menu she was looking at. It turned out to be desserts.

It turned out that she likes desserts. This is the first time I saw her with this face. She likes it so much, she didn't look at the main course page, only stayed on the dessert page.

I looked at her for a long time without saying a word, not wanting to miss any of her expressions, just like a little girl's love for desserts, the kind of expression that can't be contained at all. There are so many expressions that I haven't seen yet.

Y/N POV

As you were engrossed in the food, you felt an inexplicable gaze directed at you. You looked back saw Jason trying to hold back a smile, and the waiter standing beside you was waiting for your order with a smile on his face.

You awkwardly turned to the main course page and ordered a fish & chips and a glass of iced lemon tea. The waiter took down the menu after recording your order and left our seat.

Jason looked at you with a smile on his face, and you tapped the table with your fingers. “Hey, what are you looking at?”

He covered his mouth and said, “I just think you’re cute.”

You put your hands on the table and tilted your head. “Are you serious?”

He followed your movements and said, “I didn’t say anything wrong.”

Because of what Jason said, your cheeks suddenly felt warm for some reason. You touched your forehead and cheeks and there was no sign of fever. The air conditioning temperature in the restaurant was just right. It might be an illusion.

He reached out and held your wrist. "I just want to watch for a while."

The atmosphere gradually fell into something you had never experienced before. You stared at each other for a while. He didn't take his hand away, and you didn't let go of his hand. It didn't last long, and a sentence popped up in your mind.

"Ninjas don't need to have emotions."

Subconsciously, you immediately put your hands under the table and looked around the restaurant. Your breathing rate was not stable. It had been a long time since you heard this sentence, but it still made you feel scared.

"Hey, are you okay?"

This sentence brought you back to reality. You rubbed your eyes and focused your gaze on Jason sitting in front of you. He showed a worried expression. You adjusted your breathing to make it return to normal. You couldn't tell whether it was reality or hallucination, but it was very close to you.

You shook your head, "I'm fine, just a little dizzy."

You covered your forehead with your hand, closed your eyes, and faced the table. You took a deep breath. This feeling was really long-lost. Your vigilance was relaxed, you felt more heavy again.

Jason POV

I don't know what happened to her. Her expression changed in an instant. She was not in a good state. She changed from a smiling face to a restless look. Her physical condition was not right.

I looked in the direction where her eyes were looking. No one was looking at us. I didn't feel any hostility. If Joker or someone else really came to me, I would definitely be able to sense it, but now it was different for her.

I stood up and walked to her side, hugged her shoulders said, "Hey, I'm here, it's okay."

She looked at me with relief, leaned her head in my arms and said, "I'm fine, thank you."

Her expression relaxed a little. I could feel that something was wrong with her in an instant. It didn't seem like she was sick, but more like she was afraid of something, but she soon calmed down.

Y/N POV

It's been a while, and you've calmed down enough to be back to normal. You're more awake than before, and your emotions have calmed down. Now you can continue.

But... "Jason, you can let go now."

He took back his arm around your shoulders, but still sat next to you. "Hey, if you're not feeling well, maybe we can go back and rest?

You shook your head immediately. "No! I want to watch movie! I want to go with you!"

His expression showed surprise, his cheeks were a little red, his mouth couldn't hide the smile that had been suppressed for a long time. "Okay, let's watch it together. But promise me, you must let me know if you feel uncomfortable, understand?"

You stretched out your pinky finger. "Make a promise."

He responded to you, facing you with a smile, and hooked your pinky with his pinky. "Make a promise. "

After you two got back to normal, Jason didn't pursue the matter further. He found other topics to talk about. The waiter brought the food to you two. You excitedly picked up the cutlery and started to eat the hot food.

After you finished the food, the waiter suddenly took away your bowl and plate , then brought a cup of ice cream, just like the one you had been staring at on the menu just now, full of chocolate and fruit.

You wanted to tell the waiter you didn't order it, but Jason smiled and said, "I ordered it for you."

"Really?!" Your eyes lit up.

"Really. Eat it quickly, otherwise it will melt."

You took a spoonful of ice cream and put it in your mouth. It was so cold and rich in chocolate. Strawberries and a spoonful of chocolate ice cream were a perfect dessert combination. You were so intoxicated that you couldn't stop.

You took a spoon and asked him, "Do you want to eat?"

Jason was surprised by you "Me?"

"You ordered it, eat some~" You said in a playful tone to make Jason laugh.

He opened his mouth slightly, and you fed him a bite of ice cream. He licked the chocolate on his lips. His handsome appearance and the way he licked his lips were simply erotic, and you were itching to watch him.

"What are you doing? Are you obsessed with watching me?"

"Yes, I have a handsome and rich friend, how can I not watch him?"

"Fuck." He laughed out loud.

After eating, you two left the restaurant and returned to the car. You noticed that there was a bag of snacks and soda in the car. You asked him which movie theater he was going to, he made a quiet gesture with his index finger. He was always being mysterious.

He drove the car to a dark place. There were many parking spaces already parked, and there was a super large screen in the middle. There were cars all around and people in the cars.

You tilted your head and said, "Where's the movie?"

He pointed at the big screen and said, "This is a drive-in theater, an outdoor theater."

You dropped your jaw in surprise "Huh?! So can watch movies outdoors?!"

"You've never seen a movie?" He was curious.

You shook your head and said, "I've never seen a movie at all."

He was so surprised that he covered his mouth, after blinking a few times, he looked at you and said, "I'll take you here to enjoy it today! Let you see it!"

You nodded happily, "Yes!"

He took out a bag of snacks and soda and handed it to you. You opened the package and saw that it was all potato chips. You put them into your mouth one by one. It was your first movie experience. You were not only looking forward to it, but also extremely excited.

The potato chips were really delicious, crispy and slightly spicy, and the taste was refreshing. The soda was super delicious, it tasted even better when poured into your mouth. The taste of potato chips and soda were mixed together.

Ten minutes later, the big screen started playing the movie. You leaned back on the seat with potato chips in your hand. You handed Jason the potato chips to share the joy with him. He took a few chips and put them in his mouth to chew.

You held a bag of potato chips and calmed down to enjoy the fun of watching the movie. The screen was projected on the super large screen, and the sound effect was very good. Compared with watching a movie on a small screen at home, the movie really attracted your attention.

You focused on the content of the movie. The story tells about the encounter between the male and female protagonists in a war. The hero is a soldier and the heroine is a military doctor. The plot of the movie wants to express the story of war and love.

The plot of the movie is really good, and the focus is on two of them. You are nervous watching it, you cover your mouth with both hands, exhale and rub your hands to warm yourself up. The temperature is lower after staying in the car for a long time.

Jason turned up the air conditioner in the car to warm up, then sat up to took off his jacket to put on you, "Here, it can keep you warm."

You shook your head, "Really, no need, what if you catch a cold?"

He still insisted on putting the jacket on you, "Girls should pay attention to keeping warm, listen to me."

You can't refuse his words, because it makes sense. You are really cold, wearing a sleeveless dress. You compromise and choose to listen to his opinion. "Okay~."

He put his coat on me. "What a good girl."

"Of course." You continue watching the movie.

You turn your eyes back to the movie. You can smell a faint smell of cigarettes on Jason's jacket. It turns out that he smokes. There are still many things you don't know about him, including things that he doesn't know about you.

Time passes by bit by bit, the movie has come to an end. The ending is unexpectedly so touching and miserable. The hero died in the war and left the last letter for his beloved heroine, but didn't hand it to the heroine, leaving the heroine waiting for the hero's return until she grows old.

The hero's ending is so real, and the heroine's ending is so lonely. Obviously, the two love each other, but they don't get any response. This ending is not the best ending, but it is a very reasonable ending.

You don't have a thorough understanding of emotions. When you were in SHINOBI, you only had tasks and benefits in front of you. After completing the tasks, you would go back to receive training.

The only and most important rule of SHINOBI is not to have any emotions. The shackles of emotions are a burden to ninjas. You have seen ninjas with emotions die in a terrible state.

You don't understand why ninjas have to be trained to be emotionless killing tools. Whenever your only teacher talks about these topics, you will always be scolded, as if they hide their emotions in the deepest pit in their hearts.

Your personality is originally simple and easy-going. You just want to enjoy every day freely, whether in Gotham City or Japan. Your eccentric personality is the opposite of SHINOBI ninjas. It was once rumored that you are the only one who has touched the taboos of ninjas.

At some point, you realize that you can choose whether to kill or not, and that disobeying orders will be punished, but they still keep you and exile you here until now, which means that your value is no longer important.

Long-lost tears flow from the corners of your eyes. Are you crying because of the ending of the movie or because you are worthless? Maybe both. You don't understand why you are so sad, and it hurts more than a knife stab.

Jason POV

The movie has ended. Frankly speaking, I don't know how to say it. The ending is just as I imagined. War itself is a fight between the strong and the weak for the chance to survive. Only victory or defeat can determine who should survive.

The hero sacrificed his life for the country. The heroine is his only lifeline. She is the hope of his life. Although the hero pulled the rope tight, the rope still broke. The lifeline was broken.

I am the best example. I died and resurrected. I died as Robin and reborn as Red Hood. I returned to life again from death. I brought hatred and determination to die. I will no longer show mercy to those psychopaths. This time I must hold on to my life.

I heard crying coming from beside me. I looked at Y/N. Although she covered her mouth to hold back her crying, I knew she was crying. This is a good movie or maybe not a good movie.

Her tears dripped onto the sleeve of my jacket. She used my jacket to wipe her tears. I took out a clean handkerchief from my pocket and was about to hand it to her, but I noticed that her eyes were focused on the big screen.

I am not good at expressing comfort in words, but I can barely express it with actions. I put my arm around her and let her lean on my shoulder. She lay on my shoulder naturally, and I wiped away her tears with the handkerchief in my hand.

She asked me with tears in her eyes, "Jason, have you ever paid for love?"

I didn't know how to answer her question. The reason I lived was to sacrifice my life for Bruce and Robin, for my father, for my benefactor. Now I only have hatred burning in my heart.

I looked at her face quietly. What a lovely woman. She always pulled me into the abyss. Every word and every move of hers seemed to be fascinated by her step by step.

I slowly approached her to look at her seductive lips. Her lips looked very pink without makeup. Is this the so-called thirst? I have always emphasized that my relationship with her is pure friendship, but I have already stepped over the line.

"Jason?" She looked at me directly.

I blinked and came back to my senses, "Sorry, what did you just say?"

She just shook her head "Nothing."

Why didn't she continue to ask? I clearly heard the question she just asked, but I didn't have a positive answer to answer her. I hesitated about question because I believed in Bruce and was disappointed by him.

I hugged her tightly and gathered my courage, "I have, for my family."

"Really..." She was confused, and her short sentence made me extremely sad. Why did she always show a strange expression when it came to emotions?

I let go of her shoulders and held her face. "Hey, look at me, talk to me, what's wrong?"

Her eyes were all on me. "I'm fine, just curious."

I held her face and looked straight at her. "Y/N, talk to me, please."

Her mouth smiled slightly, her expression had returned to a smile, and her hand clenched mine. "I'll tell you next time, not today, I don't want to interrupt the happy moment now."

My mind was blank, and I hugged her in my arms without saying a word. My heart seemed to jump out of my chest, and I couldn't control my emotions for a while. I always felt that she was always silently guarding herself alone. "Tell me next time."

"I promise." She stroked my back.

Although she is not tall, she has a thin body. I can feel her body temperature when I hug her tightly. I want to hold her in my arms all the time and want to protect her carefully.

"Jason, you are so warm."

"Hahaha, maybe your body temperature is transmitted to me."

I became Red Hood with hatred and malice. I can be ruthless to anyone who is cold. Her thin body in my arms makes me feel warm. It is the happiness I have always wanted, simple, warm and comfortable.

Suddenly an emergency number came, and I immediately let go of her hand. She looked confused but smiling. I took out my phone and saw that the contact number was from Dickhead. Damn, he chose this time.

"Go answer the phone." She said.

"I'll wait for you in the car." Hearing her say this, I felt sorry in my heart. It was a rare time for us be alone, because of my identity, I might need to leave any time.

"I'll be back, wait for me." I opened the car door and looked back at her. I was reluctant but still left.

I got out of the car and ran to a quieter place. I made sure that there was no one around and answered the phone. Dickhead called at this time. I hated him for always ruining the timing.

"What's up?!" I said.

Nightwing sighed, "Erm, I apologize for interrupting your date. I need your help here. It's really urgent."

"Huh?! Can't you handle it over there?"

"I missed one. It's just near your place!" Nightwing said in a panic.

"Huh? Missed one?! What the hell do you mean?!"

"Babybird, listen to me clearly. A group of criminals have escaped separately. One has already run to your place. I can't get through there now!"

"Holy shit!"

Chapter 6 End.

If you have any ideas, don’t be shy. Just leave a comment below. Your opinions would be valuable and will be added in story. ♥️💙

#dc #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x oc #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd is red hood #jason todd is not robin #jason todd is a little shit #red hood x you #red hood fluff #red hood x oc #red hood x reader #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #bruce wayne #batman #damian wayne #dc robin

[annie-creates]

Beautiful I know

Pairing: Lady Lesso x reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Words: 1100

Note: Another spring fic is here, I hope you enjoy this one. We have had a tough couple of weeks but I hope we can get back on track.

The air got fresher, early flowers started blooming and the days were sunnier and warmer. Everything around you implied the spring was here. Even the ever students got overly excited for the longer and warmer days, and nevers were willing to spend more time outside than absolutely necessary. It made teaching both of them the slightest bit more pleasant.

What didn’t make your classes easier however was the upcoming Spring ball. A tradition your school kept from before the merging, now both faculties equally accepted and invited. The buzz of your students chippering about the dress and shoes they’re going to wear and the date they’re going to invite was louder than the bees in the gardens.

You couldn’t blame them, you’d too get excited for the opportunity to dress up and dance. But your girlfriend wasn’t a big fan of such festivities, preferring the dark and coldness of her chambers and loneliness of her own company. You knew bothering her with it would not bring much more success, yet you were hopeful for her to change her mind about not going.

“Hey babe?” You question once you enter the office you so often shared.

“Yea?” Leonora reacts, not raising her head from the papers she’s currently grading.

“I know you said you aren’t really a ball type of person, but Dovey got the fancy chocolate fountain out…” You try to bribe her.

“I thought I already told you clear enough I’m not going.” She turns to you with a heavy sign, her arms folded over her chest and brows scrunched.

“Well… yes… but I thought you’d like to come with me…” You specify as if your presence should be her reward.

“I wouldn’t go with you even if you were the queen of Sheba.” She levels you annoyed.

“Oh… I’m sorry.” That stung a lot, pinching your heart in a twist. “I thought you would have done it for me.”

Lesso watched your hunched form leave her office, happy to finally have a bit of peace. Yet even after she did all her work, she couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. Did she not do enough for you? Why were you so needy all the time? It’s not her job to entertain you every hour of each day. If she doesn’t want to go to some stupid dance, she won’t go.

But the pointed look Dovey was giving her all throughout dinner seemed to say otherwise. You didn’t join them tonight, leaving many of the teachers wondering why the bubbly and talkative you didn’t show up. Even when she never wanted to admit it, it made her feel the slightest bit worse. Maybe she was really unnecessarily tough with you.

“Do you mind telling what your fuckin problem is?” Dovey cornered her right after dinner.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Lesso retorted, dissatisfied with her tone.

“Oh please! Every time something’s bothering Y/n, it’s got to do with you.” Clarissa accused her.

“Oh god, why is she so needy?! I just don’t want to go to your stupid dance. Can’t she grow up and let it go?” Leonora argued.

“When was the last time you took her to any dance?” Dovey opposed.

“I… what?” In the heat of the argument Lesso got derailed.

“Actually, when was the last time you took her anywhere?” Clarissa stands her ground, waiting patiently for her answer.

“I… I did… I mean, we went to that place… like a couple months ago..?” Leonora backs down, confused herself.

“Lesso, you need to stop expecting her to invest all into the relationship where you put in nothing. Would it hurt you to give her some of your time every now and then?” Dovey lectures her.

“But I… why does it have to be that stupid dance?! Can’t we just go catch some frogs or something?” Lesso objects.

“Do you think she likes hanging by the stinky pond? Or that she enjoys tormenting the evening fireflies?” Clarissa raises an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes?” Leonora states matter of factly. “Why else would she do it?”

“No, she doesn’t!” sometimes Dovey contemplated if your girlfriend even knew anything about you. “She does it because you like it. She does whatever you enjoy to spend time with you. I’d say it’s only polite to do the same for her.”

Giving Leonora enough to think about Dovey leaves her to her own thoughts. Maybe she really wasn’t good enough girlfriend, spending the time she had left with you after the work hours doing only what she wanted and never asking what you would enjoy. She despised school dances, hated all the balls and fancy parties, but maybe she could bite herself and go just for you.

During the next week you don’t bring the ball up again, and it seems you finally came to terms with the fact you’ll be attending alone. But your excited chatter is shorter and less happy than usually, you don’t mention all the preparations to anyone anymore and you spend most of your free time alone in your room. That’s why you’re so confused when at the afternoon of the ball, a flower corsage finds itself on your bed.

You didn’t know who sent it, the only person you’d accept one from was adamant about not going to the ball. But it somehow complemented all the colors of your flowery dress, so you decided to try it on, just to see how you’d look. Just as you’re about to take it off and leave, a knock is heard from your door, which confuses you even more. As you open it, you find your girlfriend in a fitting white suit with her hair pulled back.

„Wow, you look…“ You whisper in awe.

„Beautiful, I know. Can we go now?“ Lesso cuts you off in faked annoyance.

“But… I though you aren’t going..?” You question her confused.

“Well I changed my mind.” She almost bites but then continues much more nicely. “I realized you deserve to be taken out to where you want.”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to…” You didn’t want to pressure her into doing things she didn’t want to.

“No, I want to go! We weren’t doing much of that lately.” She admits offering you her arm.

You link your arms together passing to the ball room. Your arrival turns heads but neither of you really cares. As you’re beaming with a smile, she realizes she loves the neediness and wonderment you have for her. She wouldn’t want to live in a world where you didn’t need her.

#lady lesso #leonora lesso #lady leonora lesso x reader #lady lesso x reader #leonora lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #school for good and evil #tsfgae #sge #fanfiction #fanfic #charlize theron #charlize theron x you #charlize theron x reader #lady lesso fluff #lady lesso x you #lady lesso imagine #leonora lesso fluff #lady leonora lesso fluff #the school for good and evil

[moonah-rose]

Blind Love

Quick Robin & Original Character(s) ficlet.

Set many, many years in the past, during one of the periods where Rogh "went mad for a bit".

Tw: insanity, delusion, grief, animal death

Aelfwyn and her sister had never been close. Their parents had done little to discourage rivalry and resentment between the two as they grew up. Quite the opposite in fact. Competition was seen as healthy for children growing up in their harsh, war-loving tribe. But their patents had taken it to extremes, showering one child's victories with praise and scolding the other, then when the girls turned their bitterness on each other, they were told to wrestle it out and not stop until one drew blood.

That blood had typically come from a nose bleed or a deep scratch across the cheek from sharpened fingernails. A couple of drops at most.

Not an entire puddle, enough to fill a goblet fit to offer to the Morrighan, gushing from a hole in one of their skulls after a blow from a rock had caved it open. As Aelfwyn stood and stared down at her own corpse, she thought maybe even her cruel parents would think this a tad too far.

Breathing heavily, she heard a thud as the rock fell to the ground. Her sister, Lliefa, was standing over her, pale as the snow. The anger that had burned in her eyes moments before as they'd scuffled was replaced with an almost childlike expression of terror and loss.

"Wynny....Wynny, sister, I am so sorry..." She began to weep, the tears falling down her cheeks disturbing the painted symbols that had been given to her on her coming of age ceremony only a few days earlier.

Only eighteen. Twins, though they didn't resemble each other. Lliefa had inherited their mother's emerald eyes and blessed red hair, while Aelfwyn had her father's square jaw and plain brown locks. Lliefa however, did have his temper.

Maybe that's why Aelfwyn found it hard to cling to her anger when the truth of what happened hit her. That was her body, her face that she'd seen from the rare reflecting glass that they were lucky to have hanging in their hut. It was her blood that soaked the grass.

She was dead. Killed by her own blood. But Aelfwyn could see the blow hadn't been intentional, or at least Lliefa hadn't been in her right mind at the time. If she had, she wouldn't be falling to her knees and throwing herself over Aeflwyn's body to weep as she now was.

Aelfwyn sighed, closing her eyes. Grandmother always advised her to breathe out all her unwanted rage as an offering to the Morrighan, or to Wotan. She knew she should be furious at her sister right now...but all she felt was sadness and pity.

Blood crimes were one of the biggest affronts to the gods. Siblings could slay each other in fair combat. But this had been a blow while her back was turned, an attack spurned from Aelfwyn saying cruel words she'd regret forever.

There was nothing she could do to the girl that would be worse than what the fates had in store for her.

"I forgive you, sister. Please, just return my body back to the tribe. Let me receive the proper rites so the gods will take me to the next world." She pleaded, reaching out to touch her sister's shoulder only for her hand to pass through.

The contact made her retch. She gagged, stomach lurching, despite not having eaten all day. They'd been sent out to hunt, their parents offering a reward to whoever came back with the largest kill.

She supposed Lliefa would win hands down. Aelfwyn hoped their parents would keep to their word.

It was rather painful to watch her sister try to carry her back to their settlement, being the shorter of the two of them. Aelfwyn tried to follow close, hoping her words with pierce through the veil.

"No don't pull me by my head! Look, you're making things fall out, that might make me dumber in this world!" Even in death, her sister still managed to vex her; "Maybe if you learned how to bind and carry your kills better instead of leaving it to me!"

But before she could rant some more, Aelfwyn took another step and then was shoved back in the opposite direction. She turned, blinked in confusion, then tried to follow again.

Same thing. Back away from the path.

"Sister! Sister, I'm trapped! Please do the ritual properly so I can be free, please! For Danu's sake, don't skip the part where you eat my heart!"

"Shh!"

She froze. Who just shushed her?

Turning to her left, she spotted a figure sat against the base of a tree. He'd managed to camouflage himself with the foliage as she'd approached but now she could spot the skin of a....man.

No, wait.

"Are you....Are you the Wild God of the Dead?!"

"SHHH!" He said again, a finger on his lips.

"Oh, I...sorry." She lowered her voice, not wanting to anger him if he was a god.

Though his image didn't resemble any carvings she had seen.

"Me just got her to sleep." He muttered, one arm curled against his chest.

He wore the most basic and mis matched selection of furs. No real fabrics or patterns. There were those who chose to live fully out in nature away from the tribes but they were usually shamans and nomads. This man looked as though he'd never slept in a hut in his life.

Or death, she supposed.

"Are you a spirit too?" She asked, quietly, stepping closer; "What's your name?"

"Dunno."

"You don't know your name?" She frowned.

He shook his head; "Name in shadows right now. Can't be bothered to go find. Shadow where memories go to hide when brain too loud and scary."

Definitely not a god, Aelfwyn realised. The man sounded like those in her tribe who smoked too much of the relaxing leaf until it wore off and paranoia sent them mad. How long had he been here?

"I'm Aelfwyn of the Horseli. What was your tribe called?"

The man blinked, tucking his arm up again; "Tribe no have name. Children of Moonah. Other tribe be children of Sunne. Other children of Earth Mother. Good tribe and...bad tribe."

"Where are they now?"

"....Gone. Gone up to stars. Me stay. Me always stay." The voice sounded so very old, even though there wasn't too many signs of age on him as one would expect. No grey hairs, hardly any wrinkles.

His blue eyes that didn't quite meet hers stared out in a deep, agonising loss that chilled her bones.

"You're all alone here?" She asked.

He began to laugh; "Ha....Ha ha! No, silly horsey tribe lady! Me not alone. Me have Moonah! Your tribe....They give thanks to Moonah, yes?"

Something in the way his brow furrowed told her she should answer carefully.

"We call her Rhiannön. Yes, we give thanks and ask for her blessings each month."

"Oh....Yes, have seen you and tribe do ritual at Moonah ston. Very good. We come and join you, though you not see us."

"Us?"

"Me and daughter."

"Oh. You have a child here?" She glanced around.

The man nodded; "You...want to meet?"

"Yes, I love kids. How old is she?" Her heart stung as she realised she'd now never have ones of her own, not in that life.

"She...She only just been born..."

Aelfwyn blinked; "I thought you said she was with us on the last full moon?" Almost a month ago.

"Me did."

It took a second for the penny to drop, horrifying Aelfwyn at the realisation. Of course if the baby was a spirit, like her father, she would still be a newborn if that was when...

"I'm....I'm so sorry."

"Why sorry?"

"I...never mind," She shook her head; "Can I still see her? I'm good with babies, I've helped my mum deliver a few."

"Okay...if promise to be very careful..."

"I swear by the gods."

The man leaned forward and pulled back a section of his fur covering his front. Aelfwyn nearly startled back before she heard the tiniest snuffling sound.

Peering closer, she spotted a tiny ball of grey fur curled against the man's chest. It twisted, mewling a little, then poking out a black dot of a nose.

"Ain't she bootiful. Me very proud dad." He smiled down, "Say hello to Horsie Lady, Kya."

"....It's a wolf pup." Said Aelfwyn.

Another chuckle from the man; "No, no, no, that just fur me swaddle her in. She look just like me, see? Have same ugly nose."

There may have been a wild resemblance between the two creatures but she was certain the little thing was not a human babe.

But the man was looking at it with as much devotion in his eyes as any parent she'd seen when holding their baby for the first time. She doubted there was anything she could say to convince him otherwise.

Aelfwyn forced a smile; "She's lovely. Her mum not here?"

The man's face darkened with weariness and pain.

"....Go up to stars with rest of tribe...They all go up and leave us behind..." He sighed and then twitched his head; "Too many babies. Mum can't feed them all. Little one die. Me wait. Me watch. Me listen to her cry and beg for milk but she left behind. Just like me. So I wait. Then when she stop cry, I pick up..."

Except the cub was still crying for milk it would never receive, nuzzling its nose against his skin and finding nothing to sate it.

"...She mine. She my cub. Her cry just like my Kya so she must be same...spirit reborn, yes?"

He seemed to be trying to rationalise it, probably due to how Aelfwyn was looking at him. She couldn't hide her doubt.

But then the druids did say part of their souls returned to the earth to be born anew.

"I understand." She nodded, wanting to placate the man; "Can I hold her?"

"You have milk for her?"

"Uhh...no." Even if she did, she didn't think that was something she'd be comfortable with in any world.

The man shook his head; "She keep wanting milk but I tell her that Daddy no have boobies to give milk. Have to wait until Mum come back with brothers and sisters. Not long now..."

She no longer knew if he meant his real family or the wolves that had abandoned their runt.

Aelfwyn looked down at the pup again. Its eyes were closed, probably forever, but it wriggled and pawed against the man.

"Shh, shh, little one, we safe. Horsie lady good me think...." He rocked the pup close; "She know my scent. My skin. It always dark for her, you see. She won't know who you are if I hand over. Might think me left...Can't ever leave. Never."

"That's okay. I won't take her-."

"No, no, no," He clutched the cub tight, shaking his head fearfully; "No take. Not last one. She all I have. Please."

"I said I won't touch her. Not if you don't want me to." She dared to reach and touch the man's shoulder instead.

He struggled to steady his breathing as he looked at her with those haunted eyes.

"....You have leak in head." He whispered.

Aelfwyn touched the back of her skull and felt the indent along with a moist matt in her hair. When she looked at her fingers there was no blood.

"Sibling rivalry." She tried to jape, as it was all she could do.

"Me try to stop. Yelled at you both to shut up so no wake baby."

"Sorry about that." She sat cross legged beside the man; "Maybe I can make it up to you by helping you look after her? Children aren't supposed to be raised alone."

He nodded; "....Everyone raise together. Peace and love..." He stroked his thumb over the soft, velvet ears of the cub; "She miss her mum and siblings and cousins...She miss a lot of people."

"I bet she does." Aelfwyn whispered, her heart aching for the poor man.

She'd always thought of wondering spirits as mysterious or wise, even playful. She'd never expected one to be so sad.

"Here..." The man carefully handed the cub to her; "Mind head. Best she get to know your scent."

"You sure?" She never thought she'd feel so honoured to be passed a wolf pup.

He nodded; "We family now. Aelfwyn of Horsey Tribe."

The pup whined in distress as she was moved away from the only source of comfort she knew and into Aelfwyn's arms. The man kept his arm close to her, the sleeve of grey wolf fur close to the pup's nose.

"Me here, Kya. Daddy right here. Daddy always stay." He promised, voice cracking; "She not hear me before when I say...When she and her mum found body and they scream...she not hear me say I here..."

His voice trailed off again as his eyes glossed over. Aelfwyn held the cub up to her skin above her dress so it was resting just above her heartbeat.

Her other hand reached to squeeze the man's fingers.

"She hears you now. She knows." She did her best to reassure him, just as she'd seen her mother do to anxious parents.

This was a whole other case she hadn't been trained for.

"You look tired. I bet she's been keeping you up all these nights like babies do." She said, softly.

The man nodded, "Been waiting for mum to take her turn...She be here soon...She always come back to visit....Be here very soon...."

"I'm sure she will. How about you try to have a nap? I'll look after this one. She'll be safe with me, I swear."

Hesitation and fear twitched in those lips again for a moment. Then he saw how the pup was starting to yawn and relax against Aelfwyn's chest.

He smiled, his eyelids clearly heavy. When had he last slept? No wonder he'd lost his mind.

"You wake when they come back? Please?"

"I will."

She tugged him to lay on his side and use her thigh as a pillow.

"Be good for horse lady, Kya. Daddy just take little sleep. Be good girl..." He whispered before closing his eyes; "Be good...Stay...Must always stay..."

Aelfwyn sighed, stroking the man's ragged mane while cradling the pup in her other arm. This was not how she imagined spending her afterlife. She hoped her sister would hurry up with the ritual so her spirit could move on...

Assuming that's how it worked. She wondered if she was desperate to become the same as the man on her lap, trapped and driven insane, clinging to whatever shred of company he could and convince himself it was his lost kin. The thought terrified her.

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we Kya." She whispered to the cub.

#bbc ghosts fanfic #bbc ghosts #ghosts oc #angst #robin the caveman

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Called up my coworker yesterday with the promise of Drama and ended up telling her that I was telling other people she doesn’t love me anymore

#she was actually mad at me and it was kind of funny #she was like FUCK U I DO NOT NEED THIS NOW #I did also tell her about actual drama #but I was also like. u don’t spend time with me anymore. someone asked about u yesterday and I was like she doesn’t hang out with me #and she was like TAKE IT BACK FORREAL #anyways we were on the phone for an hour and a half after work #she yelled at me half the time and the other half I yelled at her! peak communication #I’m making her stop being a fucking child and talk to someone in our office she’s beefing with #and she’s sending her a non apology and I’m fine with that at least they’re talking #sometimes u have to give the 37 year olds life advice cause they’re IDIOTS trying to cause PROBLEMS FOR THEMSELVES #I think the most frustrating relationship dynamic in the world is someone the Same as you #but a lot older and therefore horrifically set in their ways and completely non receptive to feedback #it’s like looking in one of those circus mirrors and being like FUCK THAT COULD BE ME IN 15 YEARS IF I DONT GET MY SHIT TOGETHER #V v funny of me to be like ‘oh she’s dead to me’ to other people in the office when they ask about her #and for her to be like ‘oh she’s just traveling’ #one day I’m gonna be less dramatic and more normal #but apparently the coworker who she is having problems with was also going around saying that so.. I do need to take it back #cause she’s important now and I’m making her look like an asshole who left all her other people behind when she became important #but MAYBE she should HANG OUT WITH ME MORE #delete later #anyways. clarified that she doesn’t hate me. my communication skills are great actually because if I’m mad at u #u will know pretty soon. #also she spent like 5 min name dropping **** and I was like. really. are u for real rn I GET IT UR IMPORTANT

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 23 - Midnight

With their intended voyage into the void only a few days out, Arsay thought it the upmost importance that she steal her partner away to Kugane, that they might share one more fond memory together should things not turn out the way they plan in the thirteenth. It was as they crossed the very same bridge the miqo'te had once sat on together two years prior when Arsay gifted Y'shtola with a bracelet matching that of her own. A token of endearment which, Arsay confessed, she would have given to her fellow scion back then, had nerves not gotten the best of her. While their relationship has undoubtedly changed since the initial purchase of the jewellery, the sentiment remained the same. Y'shtola was someone who Arsay loved dearly and she will forever be grateful to have the seeker's life intertwined with her own. No matter where their free spirits took them, they would always hold each other in their hearts. A promise Y'shtola was more than willing to keep. She slipped the the string of beads around her wrist without a second thought. They were never to come off, not even when the two decided to delay their return to Radz-at-Han in favour of a private bath at the dead of night.

#miqomarch #miqomarch 2024 #ffxiv #y'shtola rhul #y'shtola x wol #wolshtola #Arsay Nun #WOL posting #arsay nun lore #arshtola #thanks to nhaneh for the body mod #i had to do some insane fov to get the moon and them in the same shot so sorry for the distortion #forcing arshtola lore into this prompt since idk when Ill ever get around to gposing the actual scene #this is between 6.1 and 6.2! #endwalker patch spoilers #i had the idea that arsay bought the Dai-ryumyaku bracelets from a vendor between 4.3 n 4.4 when shtola is off to the doman enclave #and arsay is like hey wait you should let me show you around kugane on the way over! #a fun friend date that ends with shtola finally accepting she has a crush on arsay and its terminal #and arsay having a single moment where she starts reflecting on feelings & thinks maybe she missed hanging out w/shtola more than she shoul #only to quickly butt that idea out of her head and continue being super normal #arsay notices these matching bracelets with red and purple string and shes like oh they are so cute and they look like #they belong in a pair it would be so sad if they were ever split up unexpectedly #i know ill buy them and give one to shtola wouldnt that be fun! #so she does that and then cant bring herself to give yshtola the damn thing because she starts second guessing herself #so arsay stashes the bracelets away and she started wearing hers later under her glove #fast forward to two years later and arsay finds the other one in one of her bags #and now shes dating yshtola and they are about to go somewhere super dangerous #what better time to tell your gf how much they have always meant to you #and what better way to do it than with a gift and some words spoken from the heart? #it was a little unconventional since arsay didnt really have marriage on the mind but it was a proposal in a sense

[oatbugs]

pls i need to provide updates

#basically yesterday night was chaharshanbe suri . which is a solar new yr tradition where we let go of the past suffering in our year #and like...start the new yr w fresh vigour . anyway so my friend was at the event and we were abt to leap over the fire #and she was like bro im im glad u blocked her (situationship) etc etc . and then. my phone started vibrating. and i look at it. and my f #friend looks at it. and its her. and were both like what the fuck?? i blocked her things r Over and anyway so i pick up the phone and shesl #acting like nothing happened (bc nothing DID happen for her) and she was like ohh ur doing chaharshanbe suri im not doing anything etc what #are ur new yr plans so i jusr .IDK WHY I DID THIS . but ig i didnt wanna come off as like lonely i said probably hanging out w family and #friends maybe reading poetry together . et cetera and she was like wait that sounds so fun why didnt u invite me! #LIKE WDYM YOUVE BEEN CONSISTENTLY MAKING IT CLEAR U DONT WANT TO BE IN MY PRESENCE . and i told her that after #everything i thought she didnt want to see me again and she was like you always think that 😐 . like. ?? ok anyway so she expects me to #invite her . and like. there is an above 0% but sub-5% chance she will actually show up . but the panic that gripped me #i started making calls to my friends asking them if they can come on the 23rd bc there must be an event and also i asked my mother #and she said actually yeah i am doing a thing on the 23rd :D it involves over 16 ppl (we live in a v small flat) of which like...7 are kids #so you wont have space to be in ur own room let alone invite others. which tbh like ...being around a bunch of loud kids doesnt seem fun fo #any of my friends or me etc so i thought maybe i should arrange things so that we all go out together and if she shows up she shows up 🤷‍♀️ #but . im so. WHY DID I SAY THAT . i had to panic-call my research partner and ask him to get from oxf to where i live on the 23rd #and when he heard the explanation he like. the light in his voice disappeared 💀 but he potentially agreed so idk #THE ISSUE IS. 23rd im supposed to also have . a date #w this girl that i had a huge crush on when i was 15-16 (posted abt this b4 but id get shitty black coffee in the mornings just to spend a #few more minuted w her each day and she was the cleverest girl in school and she cared abt nothing but her academics but now shes very gay #scraggly homosexual etc etc shes cute) and YEAH IDK #like id have to go there on the date come back fast meet ppl POTENTIALLY (again under 5%) meet situationship girl #like is that even doable #but the thing is it would be so so so funny bc all of my friends dislike her sooo much #.........what if i invited the girl im supposed to have a date w over to hang out w us #god that would be so hilarious and chaotic . i wont do it tho im a mature person x #but it would be soooo funny #I HAVE AN ASSIGNMENT DUE TMRW 12:30PM IT IS 10:49PM RN I HAVENT STARTED IT bc i was rotting sadly in bed #popped a ritalin pill tho so here we go x #i have found myself in a state of such sheer agony and rage and sorrow and grief over this girl that atp i feel like #its just so entertaining . like i feel vaguely over it? ik nothing will come of it so its like just . have fun . vibe

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

oooh, i need to knit four (4) rows of this shawl every day until the end of the month to finish by the recipient's birthday. which isn't, like. bad. but it ALSO doesn't take into consideration that, a.) the early rows will be much quicker than the later rows, b.) i've got three (3) lil non-negotiable deadlines to hit by or before then, too, or c.) i've been backburnering the knitting and doing like. MAYBE. two rows a day so far.

#text #personal #writing #knitting #in btw #rell #driscoll #no i dont know why im like this either #i dont MEAN to put Stress on all my hobbies and YET!!!! #like its not the end of the world if i miss the birthday deadline but i feel bad cuz i didnt have a chrimmus gift for her and she did for me #so i would LIKE to have this for her on her birthday (which is when ill see her) #if i can knock out the microfic tomorrow and maybe poke at a first page ill be good?? #i think?? #then i can life admin and knit later tomorrow #i should try to do more rows while theyre small #frog boiling etc #they still dont take many minutes per row at this stage so that helps!! #and i am getting the hang of the lace i think #i cant do it while listening to anything more intense than music tho #convos are no go #COULD probably do a couple rows on lunch at work tho 👀👀 #anyway im also not reading now which is what i MEANT to be doing #gosh i miss reading also #it hasnt been that long but its been nonfic for a while so it feels long #portia shawl

[lurking-latinist]

⛵

#I also keep seeing modern au aubrey-maturin art #that makes me wish I could draw and thereby contribute #unfortunately I can't even *write* modern aus generally. but I like transferring character dynamics from place to place in my brain #and I feel like I could do a university AU very nicely if I could do AUs at all #because I have had rowers in my class with as far as I could tell jack's exact personality #(unfortunately it has to be a US university AU because (a) that's what I know and (b) afaik nobody else does randomly assigned roommates) #(and I cannot pass up the opportunity for randomly assigned roommates. #OR RATHER #for 'you seem more or less human - quick let's request each other so we don't have to go into potluck' #I think that works best) #(but maybe they are both international students anyway. that works fine. & therefore extremely alarmed by potluck [can't say they're wrong] #sophie is a sorority girl. english major I think. and I can see her so clearly #(she's the part I want to draw) #she's not that into the high-octane social schedule her sorority expects her to have #but her pushy mother was a member and it is Unthinkable that sophie should not be #and a lot of the other girls are sweet :) so it's fine :) she says #feel like she has roommate issues (unlike her original self she is able to live away from mrs williams so this makes up for that) #so she's always over in jack and stephen's room. people who know her tangentially sometimes gossip about which one she's actually dating #(at that particular moment it is actually neither of them she's just hanging out with stephen) #diana freed from the shackles of 19th century womanhood creates even more and weirder drama than in canon #idk I just want to see the plot of post captain played out over text message #don't ask me HOW idk HOW i just want it #stephen is a biology major/pre-med obvs. if he can survive organic chemistry #jack is some kind of engineering major. I think he'd enjoy that with the math. diana has changed her major 7 times #(I don't know whether to put jack in rotc. I don't think it Actually actually fits - he's in the navy in canon because he's in the navy #not bc he's Inevitably Military In All Worlds. he would not want to do that if he didn't get to sail #but at the same time I find it hard to picture him not belonging to Discipline somehow. #it's more than a disinterested passion for cleanliness that drives him to wash stephen's mug for him that has had coffee and ramen in it #(and NOT in that order) #in the bathroom sink

[orcelito]

Salty bitch in me sooooo satisfied by the fact that I probably make more money than the person who made my life hell last year lmfaooooo

#speculation nation #chatting with a coworker about how they ended up seeing her by chance #and she Asked about me. she seemed so preoccupied with me Specifically it seems! #and she apparently mentioned how shed consider coming back here and im just loke #lmfaoooooo girl im in charge of the hiring now and there is no WAY id hire her back #even without the personal grievances. she just caused some Real problems. like hell id accept her back. #but also she was a total BITCH to me. like really fucking nasty. and yeah maybe im still holding a grudge about it! #im a chill person but when someone makes me cry that hard for that long TWICE #yeah fuckin right id hire you back. keep dreaming. #anyways ive just been hanging out at work and chatting Whoops hfkshfj #my shift ended an hour and a half ago. i really should be going home soon. #the good news is i should be able to secure the lease renewal for only $40 more than the original renewal offer #the bad news is they havent replied since sending that which means its not in writing yet #WHICH MEANS the showing is still on for tomorrow. ugh. #which means i need to clean. blegh. #i guess having the pressure to clean isnt the worst but i really dont wanna lmaooo #at least i do have tomorrow off. i can make it work... #but yea my anxiety is a lot more manageable now. tempered by the satisfaction of being better paid than an old enemy #IT'S KIND OF FUNNY to call her that but she kind of is. it was mostly 1 sided bc she took issue with Me #i was fine being friendly work acquaintances but noooo she had to go and make my life fucking hell for several months #the social atmosphere has changed man. im not letting a snake back in. #im a nice person but i am a Resentful person. if youve wronged me i am never fucking forgetting. #but yeah i make more money than her ❤️ yay ❤️

[roseofcards90]

My sole goal rn is to manifest 0610 reactions in the milgram narrative so I can have the tragic yuri

#here’s my big brain prediction: Kotoko becomes ultimate failgirl after being voted guilty in t2 #she’s distraught all the people she beat up are now innocent and she has been deemed guilty by the same person she was being the fang for #she becomes super aimless and depressed maybe even more insane in t3 because girlfailures be like that #enter Mappi who’s basically like “I can fix her” and she’s the only one who routinely hangs out #with Kotoko since like it’s not like she’s on good terms with anyone else rn 😭 #this can go one of two ways: they actually have a functioning and decent relationship #or they become super codependent for each other because both of them need therapy and we don’t have that here #either way they should kiss and thus save each other in the end #my himejoshi mutuals would agree with me even if they have no idea what I’m talking about 😭 #hey Yamanaka if you see this—*shot* #my posts