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sundrop-writes · 4 months

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Emergency Contact

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster.

Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.

Summary:

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

Word Count: 10,400

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

...

Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).

sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.

mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.

A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It’s a newer song, and it’s one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone’s emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.

This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don’t have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.

This is another re-post from my old blog, and I do have a sequel for it in my drafts, which I am not actively working on. And before I post the sequel, I do plan on tweaking this and revamping it a little, but I figured I would repost this for now just to have the masterlist complete on this blog.

...

If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd.

The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits?

But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off.

If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for.

It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least.

Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you.

…

You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him.

He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive.

When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up.

“Who are your friends?” He asked.

As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice.

It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes.

“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed.

“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question.

“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience.

“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand.

“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang.

He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear.

“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement.

“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.”

You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time.

“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh.

“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason.

This left you confused. But you didn’t question it.

“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained.

“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self.

“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face.

“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded.

Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked.

“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of.

Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again.

“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?”

It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish.

Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about.

“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit.

It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you.

“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact.

“No way.” You scoffed.

“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.

“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together.

“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity.

“I am.” Dick said firmly.

“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips.

“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said.

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit.

You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words.

He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer.

“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-”

“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.”

Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air.

“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was.

Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours.

“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so.

It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by.

His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it.

When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment.

“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked.

You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him.

“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink.

You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle.

When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you.

Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him.

…

When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging.

Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick.

You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts.

Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock.

Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting.

When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs.

You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him.

You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun.

When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages.

You had no clue that you’d end up living together.

When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall.

You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional.

You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean.

…

“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.”

“Shut up.”

The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended.

You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments.

Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him.

You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words.

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes.

He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies.

“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words.

“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.”

He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face.

“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.”

He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail.

“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?”

He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear.

“How many times did you cum thinking about me?”

“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him.

“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed.

Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both.

In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that.

…

You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind.

It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day.

The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex.

Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up.

You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up.

…

It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you.

When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile.

You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl.

“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle.

“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.”

You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box.

“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs.

You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead.

“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.”

You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee.

“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.”

Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans.

“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’”

It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others.

“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’”

But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock.

But you would never admit that he was right.

“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won.

But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that.

Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you.

You just glared, and he smirked once more.

When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done.

“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed.

“I know.” You grinned at him.

He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you.

…

Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice.

Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him.

But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will.

When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong.

You went through the stages of grief like a rocket.

Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.

Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval?

Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you?

Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn.

And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it.

So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed.

You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done.

And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.

…

Hectic.

That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower.

Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up.

Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal.

But you weren’t truly worried about any of that.

Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision.

Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason.

The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him.

The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner.

After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection.

You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened.

So you took the leap.

You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door.

A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you.

His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him.

“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight.

“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes.

He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life.

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.”

It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects.

He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired.

You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you.

“You’re hurt.” He said quietly.

He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself.

“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own.

It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair.

Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt.

“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you.

Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now.

Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over.

“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.”

That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury.

“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence.

Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you.

“You need this treated.” He added on.

No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly.

“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.”

“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.”

The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound.

“Jason-”

You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you.

But of course, he cut you off.

“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore.

He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites.

You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion.

But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him.

Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.

“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you.

He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it.

“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm.

It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed.

You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it.

But, no dice.

The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to.

It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse.

Jason sighed through his nose.

“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?”

Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did.

You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you.

When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.

This was quiet, and calm, and gentle.

When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound.

His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it.

“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?”

It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind.

“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you.

…

Dick explicitly told you to stay put.

They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader.

Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him.

You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself.

“Jason!”

You screamed out his name, you leapt forward.

Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started.

Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.)

Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side.

At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason.

His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass.

You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen.

Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him.

Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you.

You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt.

Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once.

“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists.

The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety.

Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding.

Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off.

…

You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant.

“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk.

It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you.

It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke.

You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time.

“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.”

It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them.

You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him.

Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.”

There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line.

‘Maybe I just have to care.’

Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it.

After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable.

“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.”

There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning.

You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze.

‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’

The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely.

“It’s nothing.” You told him.

You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from.

Jason shook his head at this statement.

He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it.

When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain.

After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes.

“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply.

You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it.

Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble.

Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize.

There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident.

Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth.

“I meant what I said.” You told him.

At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened.

He didn’t find any.

You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound.

…

The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could.

When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street.

Panic flooded you.

You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately.

“Don’t move!” He shouted.

“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back.

Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason.

Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes.

He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him.

When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him.

“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die.

There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him.

His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart.

“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.”

You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning.

He thought he was a dead weight to your life.

“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!”

You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you.

“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully.

You ignored him.

You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting.

“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!”

“You have to let go.”

Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him.

But of course, you refused.

“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.”

As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more.

Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of.

He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned.

So Jason did what he had to do.

He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip.

“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-”

You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself.

You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely.

You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground.

…

If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him.

When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat.

You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it.

“All done.” He said quietly.

You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place.

“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you.

You felt your heart sink.

In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there.

You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave.

It was something else.

It had to be something else.

Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you.

He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours.

And now he was trying to back down from that.

You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.

The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first.

In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey.

You were both so vulnerable.

Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed.

If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that.

He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things.

As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask.

You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you.

You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly.

You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe.

You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through.

He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you.

“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin.

He knew that it would break him.

He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him.

Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought.

You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you.

“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was.

“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat.

Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you.

You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible.

“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.”

You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back.

“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.”

Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen.

“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips.

Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once.

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body.

He would never be perfect - but he was yours.

...

PLEASE NOTE: I do have a sequel in mind for this, but I don't know when I am going to have it finished and posted. Please do not ask me to write more of this or ask me when the sequel will be coming. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work here that I have already written.

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #titans x reader #dc titans fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut

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canyouiimagine · 4 months

Text

DO I WANNA KNOW ? | CL16 x Black! Reader

PART 1

Masterlist

✧ Paring: CEO! Charles Leclerc x CEO black!reader

✧ Warning: Mentions of cheating, no smut but some sexual tension.

✧ Summary: How far is Mr. Leclerc willing to go to get you.

✧ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own nor know these people personally. I also do not claim this to be an accurate depiction of their character. 🥰

✧ A/N: This was actually about someone else but I thought why not use Charles for this 👀. Also, English is not my first language so 👉🏾👈🏾.

It had been five years since the last time you were here.

Nothing had changed much. The same African Blackwood walls, the same wood flooring. The same lingering perfume in the halls. His perfume.

“Mr. Leclerc is ready to see you.” The receptionist told you. Five years ago, you were at her place. Which is how you knew that Mr. Leclerc enjoys coming to get his guests in Person. Matter of fact, you remember him getting angry more than once when guests were sent to his office instead of him being called to come and greet them. Sure, anything could change in 5 years, but you knew more than anyone that Mr. Leclerc was a creature of habit and that he would not be so quick to change something he had been practicing long before you even worked for him. You also knew that he was doing all of this to rile you up.

You got up and followed the receptionist towards the oh so familiar door of Leclerc’s office.

You entered and there he stood before you. Mr. Charles Leclerc in all his glory. The same luscious hair that you longed to run your fingers through. The same well-tailored suit. The same expensive Tom Ford perfume. And the same smile. A smile that used to make your day. A smile that you felt like belonged to you, and only you.

“Miss Y/L/N! I’m glad you could find the time to see me! I know you’re very busy these days.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would think his comment was genuine. But you had gotten to know him like the back of your hand. Mr. Leclerc was used to always getting what he wanted. He wanted to see you, and he made sure you had no other choice but to come to him.

“As you said, I’m very busy these days so let’s just get straight to the point. What do you want?”

He wasn’t taken aback by your rude response. He just smiled and motioned for you to sit down while he made his way around his desk to do the same.

“Leclerc has been looking into expending its horizons to fashion.” He started. But you knew better. While it is true that Leclerc was a group of the diverse ventures, the billion-euro transnational had never shown the slightest interest in anything fashion related, or in selling goods in general. Matter of fact, his family would probably have a meltdown if they knew about this. If they knew what he was willing to do to get close to you. “There are additional millions in turnover that we aren’t making by neglecting the fashion industry.”

“There are more than a hundred fashion brands to choose from in this country alone. So why go after mine?”

“There might be as many as you say but no other independent brand has your numbers, Miss Y/L/N.” He said to and smirked.

He knew how to talk himself way out of any questioning, and this was no exception. Your company was doing well, that is true. Some might even say it was doing better than most. He knew you couldn’t argue him on that. But as you said earlier, Charles is a man that knows how to get what he wants, and if your company was what he wanted, he would have just gone for it. Instead, he had gotten a formal acquision proposal sent to your office adding that if you did not agree to a meeting, he would resort to buying up company shares until you would be left with nothing.

“If my company was really what you wanted, you wouldn’t go out of your way to threaten me with a meeting Charles. What do you actually want?”

He was no longer smiling.

“Come here Y/N.” You couldn’t help myself. You did exactly as he said and made your way to stand before him. He looked you up and down and the smile that he adorned earlier was back.

You dressed up for him and he knew it.

“Sit down.” You didn’t need to ask where, you already knew “where you belonged”. It felt like a repeat that night. Except today you would be standing your ground. Today, you wouldn’t be falling for his lies. Your face hardened.

“The proposal for the acquisition better be withdrawn by tomorrow, Lee.” You said with a cold tone, before turning around to leave.

“We really did divorce Y/N.” There he went again with his lies. His comment had made you stop but you quickly regained your composure and left.

Charles was a married man. Something you wish someone had told you before you fell for him.

Hope you enjoyed it 🥹💖

Here's my ko-fi in case any of you want to support me by giving donations 🥰: https://ko-fi.com/canyouiimagine

#maria's writing <3 #cl16 x black reader #charles leclerc #cl16 #black reader #f1 x black!reader #do i wanna know #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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girls-alias · 4 months

Text

Have A Little Faith - Dean Winchester P1

Title: Have A Little Faith - Dean Winchester Part 1

Words: 1,222

Relations: Dean Winchester X Reader

TW: SPOILERS! S1E12.

Prompt:

I wrote this a few years ago based on the episode "Faith" in Supernatural Season 1 episode 12. I have updated and edited but have quite a bit already written so will be slowly uploading them. Hope you enjoy it. It was originally written with an original character but I will be changing it as I go through it.

I lay in my hospital bed just waking up, my vision remained blurry until I rubbed my eyes. I stretched and yawned but it was cut short when my wounds pulled and sent pain through my spine. I sighed resting my head back and rolling my eyes. When will this nightmare end?! I looked around and saw my doctor, I took my headphones off realising he was talking to a new and very attractive patient. We look around the same age and he has a roughed and tired look to him. I overheard the doctor talking about his heart attack being triggered by electrocution which is pretty badass to me. The doctor smiled sympathetically at him before walking out, he gave me a soft smile as he passed my bed. The guy groans in pain. His bed isn't too far from me so I decided to make him feel welcome.

"Hey," I smiled once he turned his head to look at me.

"Hey," He replied faintly.

"Does it hurt to talk?" I asked softly.

"Everything just hurts at the moment," He added making me feel sorry for him but he said it in a way that showed he was fighting through it and didn't need pity. I smiled at him reassuringly and turned my head to look at the ceiling. We didn't speak for a while and my brain was swarming with thoughts on something to say but was cut off when I heard him shuffling around. I looked over to see him struggling to sit up in bed. I panicked.

"Wow, what are you doing? You need to rest," I asked in a panicked tone.

"I need the bathroom and I am not peeing in that tub," He replied bitterly making me giggle.

"Can't you get a nurse to help you to the bathroom?" I asked but he looked at me slightly confused.

"They're busy, I can do it myself, why are you so concerned?" He asked as if no one had ever worried about him before. I didn't know why I was so concerned. I guess my protective side was coming out. He seemed to look at me apprehensively as if the only people who had ever been nice to him were lying, I know that feeling. I smiled wiping my thoughts of my old partner who left me for dead when he got scared on a job.

"At least let me help you," I added and sat up with more ease than he did. I stood in front of him and offered him my hand. He looked at me deeply before taking it. I pulled him up and carried a lot of his weight through his arm. He groaned as he anchored his feet, he sucked air through gritted teeth before taking a slow but painful step.

"I'm Dean, by the way," He struggled to say as we made our way to the bathroom on the other side of the room.

"I'm Y/N," I replied with a smile.

"A pretty name for a smoking hot girl, how are you in here anyway?" He added making me giggle. He's smooth. I'll give him that.

"I was struck by lightning," I shrugged but he looked confused.

"I didn't realise there was a storm," He added but I giggled slightly.

"There wasn't. I guess you could just say it was Supernatural." I couldn't help but smirk.

"You don't know the half of it," He scoffed making me giggle. Regular people don't believe in the supernatural but I scoffed, Dean doesn't know half of it. We got to the bathroom door and I helped Dean inside.

"You know you don't have to wait outside," He said jokingly with a smirk. I laughed as I exited. I walked over to the wheelchairs and wheeled one of them to the door. I sat in it while I waited. Once the door opened Dean looked at the chair and gave me a bitch face. I chuckled as I shook my head and got up.

"Get in or so help me I will finish you off," I threatened to make Dean laugh. He took a seat and I wheeled him to his bed and helped him back in.

"The scars on your back are pretty cool are they from the lightning?" He asked making me smile.

"Yeah, they're kind of common in victims of the weather," I replied with a shrug, I moved the wheelchair aside and climbed back into bed. "Wait, how did you see them?" I asked suspiciously. Dean smirked.

"I hate hospital gowns but not when they're on you," He charmed adding a wink and I giggled as I shook my head. I realise he must have seen my underweared butt, but considering I didn't hear him complaining I was fine with it. The doctors say I can't wear clothes yet as the wounds are still a little open, as soon as they close up I can leave. Dean saw there was a TV beside his bed and started flicking through the channels and adding random comments to make me laugh.

A tall guy with dark hair walked in and made eye contact with me, I smiled politely making him smile back before he continued and stood in front of Dean's bed. "You ever watch daytime TV? It's terrible," Dean asked the male. The guy sighed. "That fabric softener bear, oh I want to hunt that son of a bitch down," He added I suppressed a giggle.

"Dean, I spoke with your doctor." The guy sadly informed.

"Yeah," Dean sighed and turned the TV off. "Looks, like you're going to be leaving town without me,"

"What are you talking about? I'm not going to leave you here," The tall guy added.

"Ay, you better take care of that car, I swear I'll haunt your ass," Dean added trying to joke but the guy didn't laugh.

"I don't think that's funny," The guy's voice was close to breaking and you could hear he was upset for Dean.

"Oh, come on. It's a little funny," Dean eased but wasn't helping.

"Dean, don't be a dick," I spoke up making them look at me.

"But it's my speciality," He argued. I gave him a scolding look, eyebrow raised. "Okay. Look, Sammy. What can I say it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it the end of the story," Dean was wallowing in self-pity and it was easy to see he'd stopped fighting. The 'Sammy' guy didn't hesitate to reply.

"Don't talk like that alright, we still have options." He spoke softly like he was afraid to hurt him any more than he already was.

"What options? Yeah, burial or cremation." Dean's tone was bitter. "You got to know it's not easy, I'm gonna die, and you can't stop it."

"Watch me," Sammy added before leaving with a determined look. Dean sighed. I climbed out of bed walked over to Dean's bed and sat at his feet. He looked at me confused.

"So, you're going to give up?" I asked in a soft tone.

"There's nothing we can do," He added annoying me.

"But wouldn't you rather go down fighting?" I asked and he seemed to think it all through. I smirked knowing I had him questioning it and left him to think it over.

Masterlist

Working on

#dean #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #spn

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kidcosmonaut · 6 months

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I’m at One With the Silence — Luke Castellan x f!Reader — Part One

Description: Luke learns sign language in order to get to know you, the silent, angry daughter of Apollo. Warnings: canon-typical violence, injury Word Count: 1.2k A/N: The reader character in this fic is mute and uses ASL! Descriptions of signs will be used, but it's super duper hard to describe hand signs with text, and I'm not a fluent signer myself, so don't use this as a learning device. Also, I have no idea how many parts this will be yet. Let's say three? Four, maybe.

Part One ☆ Part Two →

Luke wasn’t generally one to people-watch, but this was… a sight.

Your hands were balled into fists as you stormed out of Apollo’s cabin, the sound of a dozen talented singers battling for supremacy spilling out behind you. You were saying — mouthing — something, your lips moving a mile a minute. You cut through the center of camp like hellhounds were on your ass and, as you approached the edge of a hill, bent down to pick up… a pile of pebbles.

Luke watched. Maybe it was the anger in him that enjoyed the anger in you. Maybe he was just curious what your problem was, or what you meant to do with the pebbles. Maybe he liked what the sunset did to your face. He watched.

You began tossing — no, hurling — the tiny rocks at the sky. The sun, he realized; you were looking right at it, a feat only the children of Apollo could pull off without going blind. You were throwing rocks at the sun.

Not hard to figure out the meaning of that.

Your lips kept moving as you attempted this small act of violence against your father, your jaw wild as though you were shouting, and when you ran out of pebbles to throw, you’d move your hands, too, as though by sweeping them wider, you could sign louder. And then you’d dip down again, scoop up more, and repeat.

If Apollo cared at all, if he even noticed his daughter’s rage, he didn’t show it. The sun kept setting, and no one came.

The gods were deaf to their children. Luke knew that better than anyone.

He kept watching, even as you tired of throwing rocks at gods and shuffled off — still away from your cabin, he noted. Not tired enough to go back there.

He didn’t know why you were angry.

Oh, he could guess. It couldn’t have been easy, the fall from grace; going from your father’s favorite child — the gods all picked favorites, it was only the less honest ones who pretended that wasn’t true — to just another in the pile mustn’t have felt good, especially for you, the demigod who gave everything.

But was that it? Was that why you hated your father? Because Hades had silenced you?

Your voice had been beautiful, for whatever ‘had been’ was worth. Luke had only heard you sing once before it was ripped from you, but he remembered being mesmerized.

You were fourteen then, too. It was your second — maybe third, he wasn’t sure, he didn’t know you personally — summer at Camp Halfblood, and his first. He’d been shy, not that anyone remembered that now, and he hadn’t spoken to much of anyone other than those who slept in Hermes cabin, let alone pretty girls with older, meaner boyfriends. But he’d been dragged to a bonfire party by an older brother of his, and you were there, with your guitar and your sunbeam smile.

Luke had never liked old music. His mother had all these dusty records that she’d put on and dance to like they were the only things that made sense, but they never made sense to him. If the lyrics had meaning, he didn’t get them, or at least couldn’t relate, not like the nu metal he’d ripped onto his mp3 player.

But you were singing something that night, a Prince song he’d heard before, and on your lips, the words made sense. They were beautiful, even.

He could still see it, the light flickering across your face, your fingers moving fast as light against the strings. You were talented with your guitar, too, though he hadn’t caught sight or sound of the thing since the quest that took your voice, either. The way you played reminded him of the mariachi bands he’d seen on the New York subways — hard to believe a person could pluck so fast.

And you sang. He could still hear it, too — When Doves Cry. It was different, of course, acoustic and melancholy, but the song was the same.

He must have been staring. You must have noticed.

You were coming towards him. He didn’t think anything of it at first; you twirled, you danced, you walked.

“Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside.”

And then you were in front of him, so close, and looking him in the eye, and his breath caught. You seemed to almost smirk at that.

“You’ve got the butterflies all tied up. Don’t make me chase you,” you sang, to him. “Even doves have pride.”

And then you turned away from him, like it had been a blip, like you had never been looking at him at all. You danced on.

“How could you just leave me standin’, alone in a world that’s so cold? Maybe I’m just too demandin’—” you grinned there, head turned up to the sky— “maybe I’m just like my father, too bold.”

And then your eyes changed, cast out to the lake, like your mind was elsewhere. “Maybe I’m just like my mother, she’s never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cry.”

The next day, you embarked on your quest. You did well, too — returned a week and a half later with the item you were sent to steal back from Hades. Hades the place, it turned out, but not the god himself; it was Persephone who had stolen one of your father's precious sunbeams. She'd missed the sunlight in her months down below, she told you, and took it to keep herself warm. An understandable desire, certainly, but it'd lead to snow in the Sahara and summer blizzards in Boston. She gave it back over without a fight, but her husband hadn't smiled upon you sneaking into his domain.

If it weren’t for one of his furies catching you just outside the barrier and digging its claws into your throat, they’d have marked it down as a flawless victory.

The staff managed to save your life, but not your vocal chords. When summer came to an end, they said they commended you for your sacrifice, as though you’d had a choice.

Maybe it really wasn’t that big a deal; half the kids in camp were willing to die in service of the gods, and given that you’d collected more quests than beads, you were probably in that number. But then, dying is different than surviving with a disability. Not worse, but different. What kid actually considers the limb when they’re risking life and limb? What risks would one take if they had to live with the consequences?

Worse yet, as far as he could tell, your daddy never called you back afterwards. No ‘thank you’s for the maimed daughter, no more gifts. Insult to injury, used and discarded.

He’d throw rocks at the guy, too.

Which brought him back to that moment, alone in the settling darkness. You were gone by then, off somewhere, likely pushing your anger aside for something you considered more productive, though Luke couldn’t begin to guess what that would be. He didn’t know you, still.

He might like to, though. Perhaps the two of you could be… allies. That thing inside him that burned, that he hid… he could, potentially, share it with someone who felt the same.

Feel free to reply or send an ask to join my taglist!

#☆ — story #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #reader insert #☆ — i'm at one with the silence

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 6 months

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We will protect you. Part IV

Self-Aware! BSD Characters x GN! Reader

Description: ADA and you discuss, what you manage to uncover, with the rest of the Gang. But, you never expected to see three particular names in the list.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language.

Part III

Part V

_______

You were sitting one of the couches in the living room, between Yosano and Kouyou. You and ADA returned home fifteen minutes ago and were telling others, what happened today.

ADA members were the ones, who did most of the talking. They explained in details, what they do to Stalker. And it was impressive in their own way. Yes, today, they mostly used physical power, but, some people only learn, that dog us angry, only when said dog bite them. And, while it was strange to have Dazai of all people using raw power, you feel so grateful towards him for protecting you today. You were grateful towards all Armed Detective Agency members, Katai and Natsume for today's protection.

Ranpo finally stopped talking and took a list of Stalker's accomplices from the table.

"With Stalker's phone we had some evidence, that will help us punish them severely. But, we need to punish a few more people. Stalker's accomplices..."

Everyone's gazes became darker. Ranpo start reading out loud. Poe took Stalker's phone and Katai turn on his laptop.

"First names, Emily Glover and Eugene Porcher..." You sighed, hearing these names.

"My university professors. They are responsible for job assignment during Charity Fair."

Poe start scrolling through Stalker's phone, trying to find Stalker's chat with anyone from this two.

"No... No... Found it! It seems, that Stalker posed as poor shy crushing student, who just want to see you from afar. And the café were the best option for them, because of all this windows," Poe's hands were shaking because of anger. "Your two professors didn't even question them, after you started to tell everyone about the Stalker."

You rub your forehead and lean your back on Yosano. She immediately put her hand on your head and start playing with your hair.

"Okay... Next?"

Ranpo cleared his throat.

"Johnathan Burke, manager of the café..."

This time, Katai clarify his reasons.

"Stalker pay them for keeping you on Closing Shift."

Ranpo named the third accomplice.

"Samson Beck, police officer, it seems, he and Stalker knew each other. Ollie Foster and Lennie Finch, two students. They..."

You finished.

"Don't like me. Especially after I moved in with you."

Ranpo nodded.

"Yes, unfortunately. And, there are three more names. I have never heard them before. Justin Blackwood, Angela Blackwood and Tory Swanson."

You perked up, hearing these names. You jumped from the couch and snatched the list from the Ranpo.

"And here I hoped that it was a hallucination and I didn't see these three names."

Everyone stared at you. You quickly explained.

"Justin and Angela are my uncle and aunt. [C/N]'s parents."

Kunikida adjusted his glasses.

"I assume, they also liked to call in the middle of the night?"

You mumble something and shrug. You took a pen from the table and start spinning it, trying to calm down.

"Maybe? At least, they never called me in the middle of the night. As for Tory, she is my cousin, I guess. We are not blood related, she is Justin's niece."

Atsushi looked puzzled.

"Okay... What do they get from helping Stalker?"

Poe, who was checking chats, spoke.

"Well, they mentioned something about... inheritance and old hotel. And, being ready to help Stalker get you."

You snatched the phone from Poe and stare at the screen.

It was true. You recognize your aunt's number.

SNAP

Blue ink from broken pen coated your hand. The plastic remains of the pen fall down on the floor. You were breathing hard. You gave the phone back to Poe.

"Because of inheritance... They are ready to destroy my life... Sold me to a creep. And here I thought, they wanted..."

You breathe in and out.

You glance at your dirty hand.

"I need to clean myself up."

You turned away and left the living room.

_______

You frantically soaped your palms. Hot water were burning your hands, but you didn't care. A million thoughts fly in your mind and none of them were pleasant.

You were crying.

One week ago you got a message from Aunt Angela. She said, that she and Justin wanted to visit you the following week. You were happy to see someone from your family again.

But, with that family you don't need enemies.

You heard, how someone open the door. You catch Kouyou's reflection in a mirror.

Then you were embraced by her. Kouyou whispered.

"You can cry as much, as you want, Dear Flower. I will be there."

You sobbed, hiding your face in her chest.

"They were thinking about inheritance... They didn't care about me!"

Kouyou lightly pet your head.

"Don't worry, everything is going to be alright. We won't let them hurt you. I won't let them hurt you."

Kouyou cupped your face. You looked directly in her cherry-red-eyes. She kissed away two stray teardrops from your cheeks.

"I promise."

You hugged her again.

"It's just... I thought, that they are my family. That, they, at least, shouldn't be against me."

Kouyou kissed your temple.

"Not all families are supportive. But we will support you. Always."

You sighed.

"True... Can we stay like this for a moment? Then we will return to a living room?"

Kouyou nodded, placing her hand on your head.

____

When Kouyou and you return to the living room, others looked troubled. You were standing with your back turned to her while Kouyou hugged you from behind. You explained everyone about your aunt's messages. And about wanting to meet you.

Right in the middle of explanation, you got another message from her. You read it out loud.

"Hey, [Y/N]! Let's meet tomorrow and have dinner together! Your uncle and I will wait for you at the "Sakura" restaurant."

You raise an eyebrow. "Sakura" was a wanna be Japanese restaurant. Cheap, with bad food. Because of that, during Charity Fair, they almost had no clients.

Good place for a kidnapping. You rub your forehead. You are getting a headache.

Mori stand up. He came closer to you, stand near Kouyou and put his hands on your shoulders.

"Don't worry, My Darling Guiding Light, tommorow, you will be under protection of Port Mafia. And we will show them, what will happened to people, who cross you."

You looked at Mori with gratitude.

"Thank you, Ougai. So..." you looked at others, fixing your gaze on Port Mafia members. "Who want to meet my family tommorow?"

________

That night you spent in your room.

But you weren't alone.

Once again, you were in a middle of cuddle sandwich.

You were laying face to face with Kouyou. You ran your fingers through her hair, that she let down. Koyouu's fingers were massaging your temples. From time to time, she ran her fingertips up and down your face.

Mori was spooning you. He put his chin on the top of your head. Your legs were intertwined. His hands were wrapped around your midsection. From time to time, he gave you an affectionate squeeze.

And, once again, you felt safe.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

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mrsevans90 · 4 months

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Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 10

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Warnings: smut (oral/m receiving), talks of period intercourse, detailed PTSD flashback, graphic death of character discussed, self-deprecating talk, language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Author's Note: This is a heavy chapter--- Big time PTSD flashback so consider yourself warned! Also, I purposely chose to not use characters in the flashback from the movie Sand Castle. I just didn’t want to kill off anyone’s fave character, so we are going to pretend this flashback was another mission from another deployment right before Sy retired not related to the movie. It was just easier for my conscious to write it that way.

Part 9

All night long I have nightmares about the war. I wake and try to reset myself like the therapist taught me with deep breathing, water, change of environment, etc.; but nothing is working. I maybe only get about 2 hours of sleep total and I’m exhausted. I still go on my run to try and exhaust myself even more so that maybe tonight I will pass out into a dreamless sleep. I try to fake enthusiasm for whatever Nana is rambling on about in her phone call to me on the way to work but I’m sure she can tell that I’m starting to spiral. Alex can tell that today is one of those days so he asks me if I’m good and when I grunt at him he keeps his distance. God, I’m an ass but I’m obviously not good and I just can’t talk to him about it. Nobody really understands except the boys that I was with when it happened and several of them are dead now. I’m supposed to be their leader and I feel like I should have my shit together. My nightmares continue to worsen throughout the week and I feel like I overcompensate by working harder or exerting myself in more difficult physical pursuits in hopes of tiring my body and my brain out. I forced myself to run four additional miles on Friday even though my leg quickly protested. I focused on pushing through the pain and ended up having to ice my leg after work.

Friday evening finally rolls around, and Emma shows up at the house as planned with a little overnight bag in tow and homemade banana pudding. I’m cooking us some chicken and veggies out back on the grill when she arrives and I feel like I calm a bit just being in her presence. She still looks absolutely adorable as she shows up wearing comfortable clothes-a tank top and soft shorts. I love that she’s feeling relaxed enough with me to just be her most authentic self. After we eat, I fill my belly up with her decadent dessert and I swear I see stars. She’s quite the chef; as if she needed any more of a direct line to my belly or my heart. Assuming she’s still on her period, I ask her if she’s feeling alright and she nods but doesn’t offer more. I suggest we get in bed and watch a movie and she gleefully agreed. We get all cozied up in bed and she chooses a rom-com to put on. Not my first choice, but I’ll do anything to make her smile like that. It’s nice having someone other than myself warm my bed. We fall asleep easily tangled in each other and I’m relieved that I have no nightmares. Maybe Emma is the cure to my nightmares? Or did I really succeed in tiring myself out enough that I slept too hard to dream. Either way, I’m not complaining.

Saturday morning. I wake up at my usual time and smile to myself at finally getting a decent night of sleep. I lay in bed watching my girl dream before I decide to get up and go for a run. If it’s the exercise that helped me sleep last night, I’m not going to miss the opportunity to do it again. I leave a little note on Emma’s nightstand and decide to only run two miles today so I don’t fuck up my leg more than I probably already have. When I get back home, Emma is still a mess of hair and sheets and I can tell that she never missed me. Her hair is halfway across her face, one of her breasts is almost spilling out of her twisted tank top, and the covers are tangled all in her legs which brings a smile to my face. For someone so effortlessly beautiful, she’s kind of a mess when she sleeps and I can’t help but find that to be one of the most endearing things ever. I attempt to take a quick shower and am surprised when ice cold hands wrap around my stomach as my eyes are closed under the spray of the water and I jump like a cat.

“Damn woman! Your hands are ice cubes.” I say as she laughs uncontrollably.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She says as she hugs me from behind.

“I woke up and heard the shower running so I figured you wouldn’t mind if I joined you.”

“Always, join me Sugar. My favorite showers are the ones with you.” I tell her as I turn around to see her. She’s got her beautiful hair tied up in a bun on top of her head and I shift her so that the water runs down her body to warm her up. I spy her adjust the temperature higher and I can’t help myself.

“What is it with women taking showers equivalent to the heat of lava?” She smiles.

“We are colder than you are. Gotta warm up somehow.” She presses a sweet kiss to my lips before turning around and washing her body. I can’t help but stand there like a creep watching her but I’ll never turn down an opportunity to see her wet and soapy.

“I hope you don’t mind that I hijacked your shower.” She smiled sweetly.

“Darlin’, I was done anyway. Now I’m just here for the show.” I arch my eyebrow at her as she spies my obvious erection.

“Let me help you.” She seductively suggests.

“I can help us both.” I offer but she shakes her head.

“Still on my period.” She replies without making eye contact.

“So?”

“We can’t have sex when I’m on my period!” She looks completely shocked.

“Says who? You know, sex actually helps relieves cramps.”

“But..I might get blood on your…”

“Dick? What’s your point?”

“Isn’t that gross?”

“Sugar, I told ya, I’m a man. A little blood isn’t going to scare me off. Now if you’re not interested because you don’t feel well or you just don’t want too, I have no problem with that. But, if you’re not interested because you think I’m going to be grossed out or something, I promise I won’t be. You can have me anytime you want, Sweetness. There’s no pressure either way. If you’re uncomfortable with it, I won’t mention it again.”

“Maybe give me some time to come around to the idea of it. I’ve never really considered it as an option.”

“Sure thing, babygirl.”

“You are something else, Bear. You mean it when you said I can have you anytime I want?”

“Mmhmm.” I say as her fingertips trail down my abdomen and she wraps her hand around my throbbing cock.

“Can I taste you?”

“Always, but don’t feel like you have too. I’ll be alright if not.”

“I want too.” She says before pushing me towards the shower bench and taking me in her mouth. In no time at all, I’m coming down her throat after receiving one of the best blowjobs of my life. She has my legs trembling from the stimulation and I can’t help but caress her cheek and kiss her gently when I come back to reality.

“my EmKay.” I whisper as I kiss her tenderly.

“Your EmKay?” She asks.

“Mmhmm.”

“Funny, I don’t remember being asked to be yours.” She haughtily replies.

“Ya’ ain’t going to make this easy on me, are ya?” Shit, what am I doing. I should have thought this through. She shouldn't want to be with me. The unreal blowjob has me not thinking clearly.

“Now why would I do that?” She retorts with a smile. I palm her cheek so that she’s looking right at me.

“Will you be my woman?” I ask seriously. Fuck it. Why not?

“Only if you’re my man.”

“Well, I’ve been told that I’m a bear, but I’ll be your man too.” I joke before pressing my lips against Emma’s in a feverish kiss.

As the water gets cold, we finally climb out and get dressed for the day. I decide to take Emma out for breakfast at the diner in town before we go in search of furniture for her guest bedroom. Her parents are arriving next weekend and it was adorable when she shyly asked me if I’d be willing to meet them. I assured her that I’d be happy too and to just let me know when.

We spend a few hours at the furniture store where Emma purchases a matching bedroom set before going to a mattress store and trying out all of the mattresses to determine which would be a good purchase for her guest bedroom. They are able to deliver it same day which is nice so we pick a time for it to arrive that afternoon. We then head to a department store so she can pick out curtains, bed linens, and other odds and ends that I’m told a room requires like lamps and decorations. Being a single man for the majority of my adulthood that was mostly away in the military, I didn’t realize how much work women put into buying all of this shit. Why does she need the guest bath towels to match the hand towel in the bathroom? Or all of the little knick-knack items she bought to go on the dresser? I’m even more confused when she was discussing bed trains? No bed skirts. I’ve slept on friends couches without even a blanket but she’s really rolling out the red carpet for her parents. It’s a bit concerning if they are expecting all of this from their daughter who has lived here for under two months. Maybe they don’t expect it and she’s just trying to show them that she’s a capable adult who plans on settling here. I watch as she spends a small fortune trying to get everything in order for their visit. It’s obvious that she values their opinions. What if they don’t like me? I’m certainly different from the preppy type of guy that they’re used to seeing her with. I’m kind of rough around the edges and although I think I’m pretty smart, I certainly don’t hold advanced degrees. I’m broken from my thoughts when Emma asks my opinion about curtains. It’s sweet that she wants my opinion but I’m a fish out of water when it comes to decorating.

We load up all of the stuff and head back to Emma’s house where I get started hanging curtains as we wait on the furniture and mattress delivery. Emma orders us pizza and we munch on pizza and beer for a while. I’m regretting all of my additional workouts after I finally get the bed put together and the mattress put on it. Emma tried to help but she’s so little I didn’t want her to hurt herself so I ended up just man-handling it myself. She had washed the new bedding and put everything together before we took a look at it and she dove across the top of the bed. Emma patted the space beside her and I laid down next to her on top of the comforter.

“I’m fucking exhausted and I didn’t even lift the heavy stuff.” She exhaled.

“I didn’t realize it was so much work to put together a bedroom. You sure know what you’re doing though.”

“Thank you. I just pick what I like. I couldn’t have done it all without you though, so thank you, baby. I can’t wait to have them visit and see that I’ve got my shit together here. That I’m not some dumb kid who needs rescuing. I’m able to handle myself.” Ahh, so I was right about that. It’s about proving herself to her parents.

“I think they’ll be impressed, Sugar. I know I am.” I smile at her before yawning.

She kisses my lips before scratching my beard gently.

“Can we go back to yours, shower and then go to sleep? I’m dead on my feet.” She asks as she stands up and fluffs the new pillows. Why are there like 5 pillows that will just get thrown on the floor? Seems wasteful.

“You still want to come back to mine with me?”

She nods. “I want to be with you and the pups. Since they are at yours, it wouldn’t make sense to get them and come back here. I always sleep really good with you…Unless you’re too tired for a sleep over.” She says sheepishly and I wrap my arms around her.

“Nothing could be better than having my girl in my bed with me.” I tell her because I’m beginning to believe it’s the truth. “Let’s go.”

We turn out all of the lights and lock up before heading back to mine. Emma’s car is still parked out front from where she left it and it makes me happy that she wants to be here with me. There’s a summer storm approaching and the wind has picked up which has Emma’s hair twirling in the breeze. I pull the patio cushions inside when I let the dogs out to do their business. After a quick shower because we are both too tired to do anything but clean ourselves, we do our nighttime routines before climbing into bed. Emma snuggles next to me with her head on my chest and I’m confident that it’s going to be a good night as we drift off to sleep.

It’s hot, but more than just hot. It’s sweltering. I can feel the sweat rolling down my chest and my back. It’s the type of unbearable heat that has your clothes sticking to your skin the instant you walk out of the mess hall. Then you add your gear, and the added weight from your gear plus your sweat soaked clothes is a certain feeling that I’ll never forget. I smell the smoke of an explosion further in the distance. We have our orders and it’s my job to lead our special forces team in to execute our orders exactly like planned. The problem with that is that most things never go as planned. It would be easy for this to be a cookie cutter mission where we get in and out and go back to base and fuck around for the rest of the afternoon. No, this will require me thinking on my feet at every turn. It’s what I’m trained for, hell, I’m the best which is why I’m the captain. I’ve got seven men with me whose lives rely on me assessing our situation and giving correct orders. They are sons, husbands, fathers, brothers, and friends who have people waiting on them at home. Each order I give is weighted by the knowledge that I’m responsible for them. We’re crouched in different positions behind the old dilapidated building that the informant said our guy would be in. The sun is glaring across our faces but we’re in the best position we could be in for this mission. We’ve been after this specific hostile for months and never been this close to him before. We can hear men inside the building, yelling in Arabic and moving around so we must remain completely silent. If we can hear them, they could hear us. We are ghosts that can’t be seen or heard but must work as a team for this to go smoothly. If one person spots us, it will turn into a close-range gun fight that I can’t imagine we will all win. I inhale deeply and even though there is dust on every inch of myself and the ground, I try to focus my thoughts.

As I am about to give orders to direct my guys to move on to the next step of our plan, I hear the tell-tale whistle of a bullet zipping through the air. I swivel to the left with my gun and look for the insurgent. I can’t see anyone but the bullet buries itself in the left shoulder of Waites across the way from me. We were fucking set up. I swing my gun back around and that’s when it happens, I hear the bullet and feel it explode into my lower left thigh at the same time blood spews from my friend, Goodwin’s head who had crouched beside me when I stood to look for the shooter. My leg gives out and I instantly drop down into the dirt to where I’m level with Goodwin’s face and it’s obvious, he was killed instantly. His eyes are still opened and he has a massive wound to the head. Anthony. Fuck. His girlfriend is expecting a baby girl in a few months. My leg is burning from the inside out but my adrenaline spike helps me ignore the pain and I grab my gun and instantly start shooting towards the rooftop where I believe the sniper might be. I hear Brown screaming before I realize he’s got Waites against the building and is yelling into the radio for help. I watch as insurgents start coming out of the building we were casing and I start taking them out. Lowell goes down. Setas is either hurt or attempting to provide aid to Lowell. I can’t tell but I never stop shooting. Ramirez is also trying to find the source of the ambush with his own gun. Bullets are flying, many from my own gun as I empty the clip into the only building the sniper could have been on, Browns pleas for backup, along with Waites heavy gurgling breaths fill my ears. I feel a hand on my arm and flinch.

“Austin! Captain…Captain Syverson. Look at me.” Two hands on either side of my face help me focus in. “St..Stand down. You are safe, the threat has been eliminated. Your superiors have given orders to return to base for further instruction. Do you understand?”

I blink against the water that’s dripping down my face. Emma?

“My men. The injured men in my unit. Where?”

“They are at base getting medical. Captain, I need you to confirm that you understand me.”

I blink and then nod slowly. “Roger that.” I mutter distractedly. I look around. I’m in the backyard of my house, leaning against the brick exterior in my underwear. I have my pistol tucked in the back of the waistband of my boxers and I’m wearing the boots I leave by the back door. In my hands I’m clutching my old hunting rifle that I keep on the top shelf of my closet. Shit. I’ve done it again. I’ve had a PTSD nightmare, but this is so much worse because Emma is here to witness it. I look over at her. She’s crouching on her knees in front of me wearing nothing but my water-soaked t-shirt and panties while she’s barefoot in the mud. Water is dripping from the ends of her hair from the rain that’s pouring down on us. She looks terrified and concerned.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” My throat aches either from unshed tears or maybe I was yelling earlier.

“Austin, baby, are you back?”

I nod. “Emma, I’m so sorry.” I mutter as tears mix with the rain that drips down my face. This is what I was afraid would happen if I got close to her. If I let her in. I would relax and then my past would quite literally present itself.

“Baby, don’t be. You’re okay, we’re okay.” She tells me as she reaches towards my face that’s now aimed at the ground.

“Aika?”

“I left her inside. I know you said she could help but I wasn’t able to tell if your rifle was loaded and I didn’t want her startling you and there being an accident.”

Jesus. She was afraid I’d shoot my own dog, because she’s right, I was nowhere near my right mind. Here we are over six months since my last flashback yet this was the most involved PTSD episode I’ve ever had. Thank fuck I keep my ammunition locked and separate from my guns for situations like this.

She stands and reaches to help me up but I can’t let her help me stand. My leg feels as though it has been shot just yesterday but that could be a result of me crouching on my knees in freezing rain outside in the middle of the night, not just the psychological pain from my flashback.

“Come on baby.” She takes the rifle from my hand and I don’t protest. I follow her silently back to the house. The air conditioning on our soaked skin has both of our bodies covered in goose bumps. Aika bounds to me whining and crying and I sit down in a chair from the table and run my hands through her thick fur. I bury my face into her back and focus on breathing. My palm clutches my leg that’s radiating phantom pain from where I got shot. Emma appears next to me with a towel but hesitates.

“Can I help you clean up a bit?” She gestures with the towel.

I nod and she leans down and starts wiping the mud off of my legs.

“Sugar, I…”

“Baby, nothing needs to be said. I’m okay, and you are going to be. Would you take a warm shower with me?” I look at her and want to just burst into tears. How is she so kind and understanding after what I just did? After what I could have done?

“Please?” She urges and I nod. I follow her to the master bathroom and watch as she turns the water on. Aika stays close and sits down behind me in the bathroom floor. I have no idea what time it is in the night or early morning or how long she’s been awake dealing with me. Emma pulls out two fresh towels for us and then whips the sodden shirt off of her torso before removing her panties. She looks at me and then slowly and gently eases my soaked boxer briefs down my legs before taking my hand and pulling for me to get in the shower. Once I step in, steam surrounds me and I take a deep breath. I’m exhausted, flashbacks always take the energy out of me and it’s not like I’ve been sleeping great this past week. Emma begins lathering a wash cloth with soap and gently starts cleaning me. I stand there perfectly still and let her do what she wants as I attempt to think of anything that I could say to make this situation better. I’m aching with embarrassment. Once she washes me, she quickly washes herself before turning around and caressing her hand on my cheek. She leans down and picks up my wrists that were laying limp by my sides and wraps them around her waist before putting her own around my neck. My eyes are aimed down focusing on the suds swirling around the shower drain.

“Baby, look at me.” She says with the sincerest and worried look on her face and that’s when my resolve breaks. I bury my face into her neck as the hot tears stream from my eyes. I can’t seem to stop them and I ache when I hear myself let out a sob that sounds so painful and broken even to my own ears. Emma tightens her arms around me and guides me back to the bench that we once used for a much different form of intimacy. Emma curls herself around me and holds me tightly while I fully break down. Once my breath starts to come easier, I carefully pull my head from her shoulder and try to clean my face up.

“Let’s dry off and lay down.” She says as she turns off the water and starts toweling me off. I gently take the towel from her, not wanting to be babied but not wanting to seem ungrateful. Once we dry off, Emma hands me some boxers and she tosses on a dry shirt and panties on before we sit on the bed. It’s silent and I feel like I have to say something.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must be thinkin’ but I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I woke you, scared you and I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. I completely understand if this is the last time I see you.” I say quietly and she looks shocked.

“Austin, I’m not going anywhere. This is what relationships are about. Holding each other through the good and bad. I’m not scared and you’re not fucked up. You’re haunted and although I don’t know the details of it, I want to help you through it. Even if you don’t want my help, I’m not leaving you.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I should be better. I survived, Damnit! I shouldn’t have any problems. Goodwin, Lowell, Waites, they are the ones who died. I just got shot in my stupid fucking leg after leading them to their deaths!” I sob.

“You are allowed to have problems. Their deaths are hard on you but you are not responsible for it. I don’t know what happened, but I know it’s not your fault.”

“The informant set us up, we were ambushed. Goodwin, God. Goodwin got shot right in front of me. I watched the life drain from his eyes. He has a little girl that he’s never met. If I had questioned the mission from my superiors or done more digging on the informant, they would all be alive right now. I had to look at their family members at their funerals and I’ll never forget the grief from their loved ones. Goodwin’s pregnant girlfriend, Lowell’s widow, Waites’ mom. I still see them sobbing over their caskets in my mind. I didn’t deserve to live when they didn’t get too.” I finally say out loud. I take deep breaths attempting to calm my body from going into another spiral.

“Bear.” Emma reaches for me.

“It’s been years and I still get like this. Hell, it might be getting worse. I don’t think this is something I’ll just get over. I’m too fucked up, Emma. You deserve someone who doesn’t have these types of demons.” My eyes blink heavily.

“You are not fucked up. I deserve you because you treat me better than I’ve ever been treated before.” My eyes droop and I know it’s a result of the flashback. When I have them, my body goes through the trauma all over again so when the adrenaline finally stops coursing through my body, I basically crash.

“Love, you look exhausted. Can you try to sleep for me?” She asks and gently pushes for me to lay down. My head is resting between her breasts as she lays back on her back. We’ve never laid like this before but it’s comforting.

“I’m right here, I’m not leaving. Aika’s here and so is Mills.” She tells me while caressing my head but my eyes are already closed, too heavy to fight staying open longer. I wrap my arm around her waist and within moments, I’m deeply asleep soothed by the steady rhythm of Emma’s heartbeat as she caresses my scalp.

Part 11

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood

#henry cavill characters #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson fluff

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nkogneatho · 2 years

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"𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘" - 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.

—cw: fem!reader, step-cest (characters are not blood related at all), daddy kink, cheating, soft sex, teasing, hint of pregnancy, a lil angsty ig.

—word count: 1.11k

—a/n: on my knees for soft gojo. I love him so much i swear. I hope you all enjoy it. Reblogs and comments are appreciated.

#m.list #ko-fi #taglist #milfhub

Request: what if stepdad! gojo walked in on us trying on lingere for our boyfriend? would he just look or do smthg 🥵🥵 i love ur works the most its abt time i interact 😔

You were not really the type to often buy sexy intimates, but this time a particular piece caught your eyes when you were out shopping with your mom. You saw a mannequin wearing this perfect black lingerie with a soft net fabric.

Furthermore, you remembered catching your mom and your stepdad having a moment. She was flipping through a magazine and asked him if the content in it was good. He kissed her and told her that it was perfect. It was everything he wanted to see. The worst part is, you felt this odd jealousy creeping over you.

You remembered. It was the same lingerie. Something took over you once again, and you found yourself at the cash counter, paying for the lingerie you bought. I bet daddy would—I mean, bf/n would love to see me in this, you thought. You sprinted out of the store, clutching the bag close, all the way home.

As soon as your mom dropped you off home and went to work, you ran upstairs to try the clothes you bought. Or just one of them. You shuffled the multiple bags on the bed and pulled out the one you were looking for. Unwrapping it, you walked towards the mirror. You stripped your previous outfit, trying on the lingerie.

Just like you forgot to take the bill, you had been forgetting plenty of things lately. How you forgot to unlock the door. How you forgot that your stepdad isn't at work, but at home today. fuck. Your eyes wandered to the mirror and there he was, lustful gaze peeping through the gap.

Satoru had been standing there for quite a few time. He was originally there to borrow your charger, but he was surprised to see his daughter in such a slutty thing. His eyes widened for a second, but then quickly shifted to this sinful gaze. His cock twitched in his pants when he locked eyes with you through the mirror. To his surprise, you didn't freak out or moved away. Not even grabbed the sheet—which wasn't too far from your reach—to cover yourself. He took it as an invitation and entered your room.

“It's rude to not knock and peep,” your eyes still looking at each other through the mirror.

“It's careless to try on such a slutty piece of lingerie and leave the door open,” he smirked. He approached you, his hands rested on your shoulders, and you found yourself getting wet when his hard-on brushed against your ass. Is that it? Is that all it took for him to get hard? His step-daughter in a black lingerie that he likes?

He turned you, grabbed your chin between his pointer and thumb, making you look up at him. “So…who's the lucky guy?”

“Bf/n. But considering you saw me wearing it first, guess you're the lucky one,” you smiled.

“Trust me. I count myself the luckiest to witness this right here,” he said, rubbing your chin for a bit. You both kept staring at each other's lips until you broke the silence with an Oh just kiss me already.

His lips crashed on yours. It was harsh at the start, like he's been wanting to do this for a long time, but it got softer as time passed. He snaked his arms under your waist and thighs, picking you up and placing you on the bed.

He undressed. His abs were killing you. It reminded you of the time you walked in on him shaving shirtless and your eyes immediately traveled to his abs, wanting to touch it, but it would be inappropriate. It is still now, but you don't give a rat's ass. He is too good to not be fucked.

You reached out for his abs, brushing your fingers against them. He didn't question you. It only made him feel like he wasn't the only one feeling this.

You retreat your hands in an attempt to remove your bra as he removes his bottoms, but quickly a big hand is gripping your wrist tightly.

“Tsk tsk. Don't. You bought it for daddy, didn't you?” You nod. “Then let me see you being pretty in them while daddy fucks you, baby.”

He eyed your drooling pussy. It wasn't clearly visible because of the net fabric, but that was the tease. It turned him on. He grabbed a condom, and you saw him wear it, gulping at his size. If only my boyfriend could.

He stroked the tip against your clothed cunt. Fuck. You felt yourself getting hotter by the second, hands traveled to your breasts, playing with them. Since he asked not to remove it, you pinched your nipples through the black laced fabric. And god, you swore his cock throbbed when you did that.

He entered you slowly, stretching you out, and moved only after you asked him to. That made you think how gentle he is with you. Sure he is a tease at times, but he makes sure to provide you everything. He was there when you needed someone to go with you for a concert since your shitty friend canceled on you. He was there, providing you a shoulder when you were crying when your ex cheated on you. And now here he was again, giving you his cock, fucking you nice and slow. Just how you needed to be fucked.

It was a heavenly view for him. Watching his step-daughter play with her breasts, filthy moans leaving her mouth as he thrust into her. He was getting impatient, you could see it.

“Cum in me.” You grabbed his lips and whispered.

“What? N—no, baby. We can't do that.” There was something in his voice that told you he wanted to. But he was wearing a condom, right? So, you didn't see what was the problem.

“It's okay. We're playing safe. I need you to cum in me, daddy. So—Ah! Fuck. So fucking bad.” It suddenly clicked to him that yes, he was wearing a condom.

He rubbed your clit softly but in a faster rhythm. He didn't even hesitate to cum when he has your permission. He came first, and then you did when his hands never left your pussy. Milking his cock dry.

He pulled out after a few seconds, getting up to throw the condom, and you caught a nice view of his firm ass. It was a well-spent afternoon.

Until one-month later, you found yourself in a bathroom with crying. Satoru immediately ran upstairs to you. The door was unlocked (as usual). He entered, startling you. You looked up at him with wet eyes, and his widened when he saw the pregnancy test in your hand. Shit. It was positive.

Taglist: @hyenalite @vixan-ix @katsukichu @smoothy-ve @lillina @jjstsksen @tetsunormous @dukina @koifish69 @deartoru @bbytamaki @theaesthete @psycho-nightrose @kyanyakya @httptamaki @certified-dilfhunter @romiyaro @aasouthteranoswife @sunascumdoll @xxrwzy @xo-lynx @crtlove-com @mutsu422 @hollowpurpl @megumischubbycheeks @sleepy3 @sugarbooger513 @valhallawhispers @solar-starlight @lxlxthh @kirislilwhorewife @suguruwrx @svgarslut @dassmyname @chaotic-nick @crackheadwithtoes @lordbugs @hanmasbunny @jujutsukaisenfan @eyetachi @kawaiitoga @m00k83 @imvivian @hoe4katsuki @ryumiii @lumpywolf @stygianoir @kaylabee06 @luvjiro @vodkasjedi

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deanbrainrotwritings · 5 months

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— THE LOVE LETTER COLLECTION: PART TWO

SUMMARY : being a dreamwalker, seeing every universe, having a hot boyfriend. there’s a million perks to that. the soft version.

PAIRING : dean winchester x dreamwalker!reader (f.) x dean variants

CHARACTERS : just a bunch of dean variants

WARNINGS/TAGS : talk about the barn scene, angst, fluff

WORD COUNT : 2.6k

A/N : this fills the hurt/comfort square on my @jacklesversebingo card. still written from Dean's perspective (I hope you feel loved by him, lmao) XX

The meeting was over and I was completely shocked by the news that bearded-Dean broke to us. He saved me. Doing that caused the destruction of his world and he went through with it anyway.

I remember that day clearly. I missed that damn metal thing about a dozen times that night and I wonder which time he interfered to get me to survive. He’s the reason I’m still here, and I'm partially pissed that he’s toying with my life, but if I were dead, what would that do to her?

“So you could be happy with him,” he explained, almost sounding like a plea to get me to hear him out and not think the worst of him. It wouldn’t make sense for me to hate him, or treat him like he’s a villain. He did what I would do: sacrifice everything for her. The thought of everyone else that died in the timeline, like Sam, Donna, Jody, the girls… It hurts and now I understand why there is so much pain in his eyes.

“You gave me up, too…” she murmured softly, looking up at him sadly. I start to realise now, he’s more me than anyone else here. He is literally me from the future. All my past with her, he has that. All that love, it’s still there. So are the memories and the things he could have had with her, but he gave that up so that I could have them and be alive at the same time.

“You’re in there somewhere now,” he tried to lighten the mood with a faint smile.

Standing on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was one of my favourite types of hugs from her. I didn’t complain this time, when he wrapped his arms around her quietly and buried his face into her neck. He hid himself, the way I always did, using her warm embrace.

While he finds comfort in her arms, I observe everyone in the meeting room focusing on the files Ken-me brought in a cart. Occasionally, they’d look up with longing and sadness that was different from the look the soldiers had when they saw her. It was interesting.

I did a quick count of everyone in the room. Twenty-six. That’s the same amount of versions of her he said he’d placed inside that rock. It couldn’t be. But it would make sense that the versions of me who were with a version of her are sitting here coming up with plans, leading different groups, focusing on different projects.

If that guy is me, from a future that doesn’t exist anymore, he doesn’t belong anywhere but here. He made this place to keep her safe after getting her killed by saving me. Of course he’d place her lovers at a higher rank than the other me’s in this place who are merely soldiers, dreamers. It’s not that they’re less important, it’s that they haven’t had a chance to actually love her and that’s why it’s different.

I only recognise two variants of myself in the room. The rich guy with that HunterCorp company and me from the Apocalypse world. I know for a fact that they had her as their girlfriend, too. Apocalypse-me lost her from an illness not related to the Croatoan virus and HunterCorp-me lost her on a hunt when a gorgon killed her.

The guy closest to me wore a red button up and a black t-shirt. He paused in the middle of his sentence to look at me with an indifferent look on his face. It’s weird looking at myself. He’s not much older than I am. The wrinkles by his eyes aren’t as noticeable as mine are now and I see something in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in a while. Something that sends a chill up my spine and makes me shudder.

“You have a question,” he states astutely. I laugh and nod, putting my hands on my hips as I watch the field scattered across the table.

“So.. all of you, you’ve lost her… somehow?” The ones close enough to hear my question stop what they’re doing. They’re listening now, to me. I can see that they’re curious about my question.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, then lifted the sleeve of his arm to reveal the Mark of Cain. My heart stutters at the sight of the pinkish scar on his skin. “I killed her and Sam…” he reveals. My heart plummets to my stomach. That was one of my biggest fears once I’d been cured of being a demon. “This place suppresses the effects of the Mark, makes me feel almost normal.” His words put me at ease and I know he’s not lying because there’s no chance in hell I’d let someone like him in here if he were a danger to everyone.

Standing here now, I start to connect a few pieces together. This whole place at the end of and the beginning of time being named the Monument while containing only variants of myself, variants who all will always only love her and have always only loved her. The steadfast belief that every single person here and outside of this room has that she is the only one for them… it’s like this place was built on a foundation of love primarily for her, and then it extends to love for everything else in existence.

Older-me said so himself, he spends more of his time worrying about her, going as far as destroying his entire timeline so she could be happy with me. They all know, they all chose him to lead them, allow him to lead them, and live peacefully with each other because that’s what she’d want. This whole place is a declaration of love for her, our unending respect of what she believes in, our undying loyalty and commitment to her and her life alone.

I watch her interact with them now that older-me has collected his wits. He’s not with her at the moment, he’s focused on a file, but he does look up at her every once in a while. I wonder what she said to him that’s making him keep looking at her and what he could be thinking of with every glance her way.

I study her from across the room as she talks to them. Her face never changes when she talks to them. She’s surrounded by love here. I can see it on her face and it’s reflected in theirs, too. Their gratitude and the sudden peace that overcomes them fills the room. I can tell being near her heals a part of them that had been broken the moment she was lost to them forever.

She’s immersed completely in them, there’s a lustre of adoration in her eyes, and she has the most tender smile when they explain or answer her questions. I’m amazed by their self-control, had she been giving me that look, I’d take her face in my hands and kiss her senseless.

Suddenly, the thought of any one of them doing that didn’t make me sick with jealousy. They were more like me than I'd like to admit. Their devotion to her was admirable. I appreciate their respect for me by not making a single move on her and by not doing anything to make her uncomfortable. I hate to say they’ve earned my trust.

She’s so beautiful as she listens to them intently. They’re like children getting attention from their doting mother, except that’s a weird analogy for this situation. I’m sure they want to kiss her, aching to touch her soft and warm skin, longing to hold her after not feeling her close to them for years—or who knows how long, really.

I leave the group around me as they talk about the files and make my way to her. I’d think this place would be filled with toxicity and anger issues. Instead, we’re more concerned about the mission and hyper-focused on protecting what others still have across innumerable universes. They’re brought together by hope, grief, and love. All the things that make us who we are.

I know she’s smart enough to have figured all of this out, too, by now.

As I get closer to her, I wonder what it’s like for her to know all this. What does she feel knowing she has all our hearts at the palm of her hand? Knowing her, she’s baffled, maybe a little confused as to why they’d make themselves so miserable waiting around in this giant, lonely monument dreaming of her rather than being out there actually living their lives with the ones they love. I’d imagine it would get boring in Heaven, I’d run out of that place and come here, too, if she weren’t there waiting for me.

I circle my arm around her waist and give her a kiss on her cheek, which is hot and red. She laughs nervously at whatever the 1920’s variant of me said to her. I didn’t catch it, but she continues to laugh as she says, “you’re funny.” It’s in that ‘I don’t believe you, but whatever you say’ tone that makes me smile when I look down at her.

“I’m serious,” he affirms, laughing along with her. She looks up at me, as if I’d be on her side, but I’m lost. I shrug at her with a light-hearted frown. “You’d be surprised by how easy it is for someone as damaged as us to be stuck on a breathtaking, unobtainable, dream-woman over any other hotsy-totsy lady that’s obtainable and real.”

Now, I get it. I’d been with plenty of women in my past, women I cared for deeply and even truly loved at some point. As much as I respect and even admire them, none of them come close, none of those relationships compare to what I have with her.

I’m not surprised to see she’s shocked. I'd be equally as bewildered as she is now if the situation were reversed. If the room was filled with variants of her, only in love with me, I wouldn’t be able to wrap my head around it. I’d be flattered and upset at the same time.

She blushes harder, looks at me again, begging me to be the reasonable one in the group, but I shake my head apologetically. “Maybe you should shut up,” she floundered, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away from them. They laugh at the same time that I do and I can feel her shrink into herself, but a sheepish smile makes its way onto her face.

“Am I makin’ you blush?” He teases her with a boyish grin. She sighs---almost disappointedly---and moves out of my embrace, uncrossing her arms. She takes us in, all of us standing next to each other, and she looks devastated now; all playfulness leaves her.

“I just… that can’t be true,” she says quietly, looking at them. “I want you all to be happy… out there.” They get serious, too, frowning at her disheartened tone. “You’ve all gone through so much… and to just end up here… alone. I don’t want that for you.” Silence falls over us and I feel a pang in my chest at her words.

“Listen, I’m not saying the women we were interested in aren’t good enough. They’re great and amazing.” This time it’s Firefighter-me talking, but I’m more surprised than I should be that we all think the same. She looks at me, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. “Jo’s great, Cassie’s great, Lisa’s great… ya know, whoever else, but they deserve better, too. Dontcha think so?” He asks, trying to get her to be a little less daunted by their choices. Because they are theirs. They’re doing what they want and what they believe. It’s not like the older version of me left them choiceless. I know myself, no one’s taking my right to choose, no one’s trapping me that way—never again.

“We shouldn’t waste their time either,” cowboy-me added. “It wouldn’t be sincere or fair to them because we would continue to love you the most.” She tilts her head to the side, her lip quivers, and we all know what’s going to happen. “You know, everytime we sleep, we dream of you. We see the life you have with your Dean. It’s all we want and it’s amazing to get to feel you and to get to live it, but when we wake up, we feel empty, disappointed… because you’re not ours, you’re not here, and we can’t feel you anymore. Your warmth is gone and you’re so far away from us, and I know you want more for us, but we just can’t be happy with someone who isn’t you.” He tried to reconcile her by bringing her in for a side-hug and a kiss on the forehead. She tried to hold back her tears with quiet sniffles, deep breaths, and by clenching her jaw. I don’t think it worked because she gave him a full hug, burying her face in his chest. “That life just wasn’t meant for us and we’re okay with it.”

I wonder what it’s like for them to see her here in person. Is it of any comfort to them? Or does it just make them hurt more? To have her in their grasp and then have her gone again, but this time it’s her own choice to leave them. Does it hurt that she’s choosing someone else, me? Will being around her allow them to move on?

If I were them, I’d be miserable seeing her with someone who isn’t me. There’s a dull ache in my chest that I almost believe is just an echo of what they must feel. Moving on may not be an option for them, considering that they willingly chose to work in a monument of the love they have for her. If she were here, I’d never be able to move on.

“We really appreciate that you two came,” older-me spoke, slightly causing them to break apart. He brought his hand to the top of her head and gave her a sad smile, an understanding look in his eyes. “We’ve got to focus and get to work now... We’ll see you around, the two of you.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, but it sounded a lot like an ‘I love you’. She went to him and let herself be pulled into his embrace. He kissed her cheek, his lips lingered, and her eyes closed to bask in his affection.

He pulled away from her and then made his way to me, allowing her to say goodbye to everyone else. “Alright, uh… listen,” he said quietly, stepping close so I could smell his cologne—smelled way better than mine, “Don’t be a dumbass and do something about that box you’ve got hidden away. ‘Cause if you don’t, I’m givin’ you nightmares. Okay? Okay.” He slapped my back and laughed as if trying to cover up our conversation.

“But what if she says no?” I ask, hating the insecurity in my voice.

“The whole point of this place is that she’s always gonna say yes to us.” He doesn’t elaborate, he just walks away and leaves me to stew in that. I open my mouth and turn around to ask him what the hell he meant. I take in her gentleness when she’s talking to them, holding Firefighter-me’s face in her hands, and dropping a few loving kisses on his temple.

Maybe I should stop overthinking things. Primarily because when it comes to her, I don’t have to think about or doubt anything. This isn’t something that’s being chosen for me, but being shown to me as an option of what I could have.

➥ same book but never the same page

taglist

@rominaszh @livingdeadmak @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @kellynickelss @stxrgazer03 @epsilonsagittarii @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @jessllianaquilesrolonworld @globetrotter28 @deansbbyx @lickmybawls @jackles010378 @winchstrdean @deanwinchestersgirl87 @the-achievementhunter @deanfreakingwinchester @k-slla @madzzz0797

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

jacklesversebingo23 masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff

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randomyuu · 7 months

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(A)void - A fanart

OH MY GOOOOOD

This fic, (A)void by tafih ignites my love for Yuuji to a whole new level.

A platonic reader insert??? Focusing on Reader’s love for Yuuji while adopting every kid as time goes? Sign. Me. The. Fuck. Up.

Chapter 1 had me floored. The way Mirei (the reader) is introduced to the class, how Mirei noticed Yuuji, and slowly realising she really, really loves Yuuji is just—fuck. I love all these moments.

And after Yuuji ate Sukuna, the pain she felt knowing the distance that grew between them, I felt that too. My goodness, Mirei mirrored my feelings for Yuuji a bit too well it’s kinda scary.

Always contemplating whether I should adopt him or be his best friend instead. Or both.

Gosh, the things I would do for this boy.

Okay, now my thoughts during drawing :D

Reader-insert is always a tricky thing to draw. I always pictured them as either an OC or a grey androgynous character with “Y/N” on their face. So to draw this character, that can be relatable to any reader, is really tricky. I never really inserted myself into a reader-insert fic, always saw them as their own entity, so it’s hard to decide on their appearance.

Even with all the descriptions present in the fic, I still struggle. Also I have to look up Japanese teacher summer outfits with appropriate hairstyles, etc etc because I can’t fully trust anime as my point of reference lmao

(I also rarely watch slice-of-life animes so I don’t have much stored reference in my brain to begin with lol)

Also, short sleeves are so hard to draw, wtf? I don’t understand _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

It took me multiple tries to decide on poses and appearances, but I think the end result is alright! Could be better, but I’m satisfied for now.

And then Yuuji. Man, I honestly don’t know if this boy is ambidextrous, right-handed or left-handed. I tried looking into some images and he has used both so honestly Idk. I just want to say forgive me for any inaccuracies in this drawing, both from JJK's standpoint and Japanese culture in general orz

It’s hard to research only in the English language. I shouldn’t have stopped my Duolingo lessons years ago ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

On another note, Ozawa is really cute! I didn’t expect I would have fun drawing her character. I thought it’d be Yuuji but no, it’s Ozawa! And also Wasuke. Currently I’m studying middle-aged male characters, so drawing him is just part of the practice!

On another, another, note, all of the drawn moments are my favourite ones in the first chapter. That chapter is my favourite so far, I honestly could read multiple chapters only with Mirei teaching in Yuuji’s school and interacting with the Itadoris. I love reading how Mirei slowly gets closer and closer to Yuuji and Wasuke so much.

I just—I could cry gushing about Yuuji and Mirei’s platonic relationship, it’s so cute, so heartwarming, got my soul buzzing in delight, just AAAAHHHHHH—

Aight, that’s it for now. I have reached a speechless state and no longer know what to say except incoherent screaming noises. See you next time!

#yuu's art #jjk-fic-fanart #jjk-gen #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #itadori yuuji #itadori wasuke #ozawa yuko #reader insert #reader #i adore this so much #platonic reader

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noxtivagus · 2 years

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minfilia and ryne

#🌙.rambles #[ ffxiv. ]#a bad decision to watch this scene while it's 6 am but oh well #i opened youtube n yeah... that minfilia ryne scene #the words minfilia says #i wish i could be able to tell that to myself as well #i rmber writing back then abt how i relate w this so much yeah?#'tis only natural to be afraid. to hesitate'#i wonder if the love i have for myself really is true #hmmm. nah. i do struggle w doubts n insecurities far too often but in the end i still do love myself #i'm confident in the inside but it's always hard for me to see properly how #others would feel the same way w me #which is why i realize i constantly distance myself quite a bit from my family n friends #sometimes i wonder if some friends only stick around because i'm one of the only ones that's stayed all these years #but then again i'm really prone to underestimating myself like that #i can't help but doubt the meaning i have in others lives though. i'd really like to hear it from them all explicitly but #mhm i think they should focus on themselves first. in a good way like. perhaps i crave that affirmation yes probably maybe but.#i don't exactly /need/ it. there are other things that shld be prioritized #back to the ffxiv cutscene tho. i admire these characters so much #their strength in believing. wanting to do more than just that. being a part in making a difference #to help and inspire others... ryne definitely has inspired me #i wonder if i've ever affected anyone that way #aaaah hopes and dreams. i still wonder what is it that i really wanr. but fuck it's 6:23 rn i shld sleep #this line tho... 'if ever you should falter remember this:#no one however powerful is immune to the whisperings of doubt and despair. do not give in to them but do not deny them either.#look instead to the light within that you may continue to serve as a beacon to others.'#words that once comforted me #but now they just leave me frustrated and confused. 6:27 am holy shit #ah the way these two believe in each other so deeply is so heartwarming to see #wsjfhkjd the end of that scene... can't do it alone huh T_T i'm going to sleep it's fucking 6:32 am

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years

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Pink Scarf - PART 14 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Blood. Assault in various forms. Miscarriage. Death/Mourning. Pregnancy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry in advance, y'all, cuz this one might knock you on your ass with its dramatic angst and give you whiplash after the last few chapters. Honestly, I hurt myself a bit with this one! *sob* Needless to say, the tone is a bit different here. Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics!

While I hesitated to make a part all in flashback, I couldn't seem to avoid it without creating a ridiculously giant chapter, and I also didn't want to make you wait that long, so here it is, complete with a cliffhanger!

Speaking of that, thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Life is kicking my butt a bit, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me!

Also, look out for some fun 1960 Elvis posts/reblogs later so you can get the full visual of his March 1960 glory, in case I haven't described it well enough LOL. I included a Rollerdome pic at the end as well.

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

March 1960

You shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Elvis. But having not seen him in person in over 18 months, or even really being able to talk on the phone, you wonder if too much time has passed, if too much has changed, if the man who went into the Army two years ago is still the friend you cherished.

You wait in front of Graceland in the icy March air with Jack and a multitude of other close friends and relations for Elvis to arrive, shivering in your heavy coat. It’s a strange limbo you all are in, this energy of the end of one thing and the start of something new and unknown. You can’t help feeling that everything is different somehow, that a new era has begun.

This feeling is compounded by the secret you are keeping. You had been wary to accept that your greatest hope is finally coming true, but after your appointment yesterday afternoon, you are finally starting to settle into the fact that new life is growing inside you. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jack, since Elvis’ imminent arrival has taken over everyone’s minds. While you have no need to be the center of attention, you also know that the news would get lost in Elvis’ return. No one could compete with Elvis for any sort of attention. It would be a losing battle.

Honestly, you are glad to sit with the knowledge on your own for a moment, to give yourself a minute to adjust to your new reality. And part of you is still quite scared that this could all be over in a flash. It’s still early, the doctor said, even though you were further along than you’d originally thought. But after two years of nothing, there is a piece of you that doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

Perhaps that is truly why you’re feeling nervous and it’s nothing to do with Elvis at all.

Everyone around you starts to buzz, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see the police cruiser, lights and sirens and all, coming up the long drive. When it finally pulls up in front of the house and Elvis gets out, everyone explodes with liveliness.

It takes a moment for the small crowd to clear enough for you to see him fully. When his tall frame comes completely into view, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of your body. You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud.

He looks beyond incredible. So incredible, in fact, that your heart is suddenly fluttering in your chest like a schoolgirl’s. You have seen him in his uniform before, of course, but the last time, he was so miserable after the death of his mother that the uniform seemed like a prison, an unforgiving punishment almost. Of course, you’d also seen pictures for publicity and ones he sent home which would occasionally show him in his uniform. He always was handsome, to be sure, but now…now, something was different.

You try to put your finger on it because it really has thrown you for a loop. You aren’t some fawning, adoring fan, for god’s sake. But you cannot help but openly stare at the man in front of you. He positively glows. His blue eyes sparkle with the happiness of being home, but it’s not only that. Taking off his cap and tucking it under his arm, he surveys the small crowd and his home with joy. The blue of his dress uniform brings out the reddish-blonde of his natural hair color and the blush on his cheeks. His hair is long again on top, grown out and curled up and mussed from his hat. Compared to the Army buzz cut, it is more reminiscent of his signature coiffed 50’s style, but somehow more mature yet rebellious at the same time. It suits him very well, you think, highlighting high cheekbones, long face, and his now quite chiseled jaw.

Elvis’ whole face is lit up with happiness, that signature grin white and wide, as friends and family gather around him. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy to see that smile again in person. When you finally catch his eye, you feel like the whole world stops. It’s ridiculous really, the way your heart throbs in your ears, but you swear his face changes almost imperceptibly when he sees you. You’re not exactly sure how, but it softens somehow, imbued with just a little more warmth than he’s already exuding. His eyes travel over you only briefly before Jack reaches out to embrace him, but in that short moment, you suddenly feel self-conscious.

Once his eyes leave you, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. You look down, clasping your hands in front of you, but when you look up again, Elvis is looking at you from over Jack’s shoulder. You are absolutely caught in his blue-eyed gaze.

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

Perhaps your sudden intimidation by your dear friend is that he left Graceland a boy but has returned a man. Even though he’s thin, it’s in a leaner, more carved, more refined way than before. He still retains a bit of his baby face, but his countenance is different, settled, more worldly.

After exchanging words with Jack that you are too overcome to hear, Elvis steps around him and comes towards you, his attentions focused completely on you.

“Hey there, y/n darlin’,” he says gently, his voice still heavily accented, high and bright.

“Welcome home, Elvis,” you say. It barely sounds like you, you think, too quiet and soft and breathless. You ring your hands nervously.

He begins to open his arms and you know he means to embrace you, and all of a sudden, you are certain you are going to faint. It’s as if you know that if he touches you, right here and now, looking as he does and with the way his essence is radiating around you, something will be irrevocably changed. Your heart flutters and your breath rate increases, and you almost panic as he closes the gap, those eyes of his looking at you in such a way that you feel completely, utterly exposed. You want to run away, but you are frozen to the spot.

Just as he steps up to you, he’s attacked from the side by his young cousin. The moment between you is thankfully interrupted, and you instantly step back and behind Jack as the boy wrestles Elvis.

“Jesus, kid, a little warning next time!” he shouts playfully, putting the kid in a headlock and rubbing his knuckle into his head. He catches your eye for a fraction of a second, his face somewhere between regret and chagrin at not being able to hug you. You manage a small smile, but practically hide behind Jack, grabbing his hand as you warily look on.

The horde gratefully moves inside, out of the cold late winter chill. The look that flashes over Elvis’ face as he crosses the threshold is one of trepidation, grief. You realize being home must come with mixed emotions; after all, the last time he was here was when his dear mama passed, and this was the home he’d gotten for her.

You’re not sure that anyone else catches how his breath hitches and how those pretty eyes become anxious. In that moment, you forget all about the strange reaction you had to him not a minute ago and you ache to go to him, to pull him into your arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.

It seems like both forever and just yesterday that he wept in your arms on the stairs, bereft and inconsolable, as his mother lay in the other room in her casket. He had refused to leave her, petting her, and talking their baby talk to her for so long that they had finally placed glass over her to dissuade him. Even then, he had sat vigil by her side and as you all looked on in collective grief, as the concern for him and his deteriorating state was palpable. Almost no one was able to get him away for longer than a few minutes—first it was the Colonel near shoving him and Vernon out the door and into the arms of the vultures with the cameras outside. Then, Sam Phillips was able to console him for a bit. Jack and the boys and Anita all tried to pull him away, but they were only swept up by him to go see Gladys, and his tearful ramblings continued about how beautiful she looked and her tiny little “sooties,” and then his wailing and sobbing would commence once again.

His mama had always been more than kind to you, and you cried for her loss, but it was truly Elvis’ grief that had the tears rolling down your cheeks. But you hadn’t wanted to overstep your bounds. However, he’d stopped eating and drinking, and looked positively exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Eventually, you could stand it no more.

“Elvis, honey, I need you…” you’d said, putting your hand on his shoulder gently. He’d looked up at you sharply, eyes so bloodshot and filled with tears that the blue of his irises seemed unnaturally bright, his innocence and grief leeching out of them. You faltered then at the state of him, stumbling over your words, wanting to be as kind as possible. You cleared your throat, continuing, “I need you to come with me, sweetie.”

And somehow, against all odds, he listened to you, of all people. Wordlessly, he’d stood, drawing you tightly to him, his arm gripping your waist and his tall frame leaning on you for support, nearly knocking you over. You’d stumbled with him to the stairs, and he’d just collapsed into you, his head buried into your neck, clinging to you as if drowning in his grief and you were his life preserver. His heart wrenching sobs had silent tears flowing down your own cheeks, and you’d held him, petting him, cooing at him, your protective gaze shooing the onlookers away.

Eventually, after some time, he quieted. You could feel the heat of his head through the now-soaked top of your dress. “Oh, E, you’re burning up,” you’d said, feeling his face with your hands. He’d worked himself into such a state that his body was rebelling against him, and you’d whispered to someone nearby to call the doctor.

At that point, he’d had little fight left in him, and Jack and Sam had helped get him up to bed once the doctor had come. But he’d still clung to you, not letting you leave him once in his ornate, darkened cave of a bedroom. Elvis wouldn’t settle or let the doctor administer the much-needed sedative until you were in the huge bed with him and he was curled in your lap. You had looked to Jack wide-eyed for some sort of support, part of you feeling a little scandalized by being invited into Elvis’ bed, but none of the men knew what to do, and you were the only one so far that had been able to get him away from Gladys. You just got harried looks of bewilderment from everyone, and the doctor had just nodded to you, as if giving you permission to climb up in with him, doctor’s orders. Anything to calm Elvis down.

So you had, your heart breaking for him, confused as to why it was you who he needed, not Anita or Vernon or Jack. Regardless of how strange it was, you were his friend, and you’d do anything to help, no matter your own comfort. You’d stayed with him through the night, back leaning up against the headboard awkwardly, staying even after the sedative took hold because when you’d tried to leave, he’d still clung to you, heavy and feverish.

For hours you’d held vigil over him, hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, eventually drifting in and out of sleep, though any movement from him had you startling awake. And when you woke in the morning, stiff as hell, and Elvis blinked up at you with those huge, grieving puppy dog eyes, the pang in your heart was evident and confusing.

After those few horrid days, you never spoke of it again. You never asked him why it was you who’d been able to reach him through his grief, and beyond a whispered “thank you” in your ear before he left for Germany, he never mentioned it again. Not that you’d seen him for him to do so. Maybe that is why you are nervous, you think, because the last time you saw him, he was so utterly lost, and for whatever reason, you had been a lifeline in one of his worst moments. And that feels significant somehow, though you aren’t sure exactly how.

That look you see in his eyes now reminds you too much of that look from 18 months ago. But there are a bunch of family and friends between the two of you, crowded in the entryway, bustling with excitement, all seemingly oblivious to Elvis’ distress.

It angers you a bit, the way they all clamor over him without truly seeing him. You stand as rooted as he is, as if your being able to move is tied to him somehow. He looks at you then, sensing your gaze or your thoughts in that almost preternatural way of his, and you see the overwhelm in his eyes. The way the endless blue of them seems clouded over with pain and grief. The way they almost beg you to save him.

This, out of everything, gets you in motion, stepping towards him in the crowded space, but there are so many damn people that you can’t get to him. By the time you sidestep cousins and friends, you’ve watched as his face changes, a mask slipping over those handsome features so seamlessly that it takes you aback. You stop short, amazed at the way he now smiles and laughs at the antics around him, as if nothing happened.

You realize he must’ve had to do this to survive over there. There was no way he could show that kind of vulnerability during tank maneuvers or whatever they had him doing. He’s protecting himself, you think.

But it still rubs you the wrong way. The ease with which he switched emotions was disconcerting to you. Somewhat bitterly, you think that he certainly didn’t need your help through his pain this time.

Oh, stop, you chide yourself. He’s been home all of five minutes and first you wanted to run away from him and now you’re mad his grief isn’t crippling him? What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, okay, y’all, I need to go get changed! The press is gonna be here any minute,” Elvis chuckles and waves you all off, climbing the stairs. His eyes catch yours in the briefest of moments and you swear there is something unsaid in them. And then he’s gone, up into his room.

A shiver passes over you, your stomach flipping, and then a wave of nausea comes.

Jack sees you and comes over with concern in his eyes, cupping your cheek. “You alright, treasure? You look a little green in the gills,” he says.

“I…uh…my stomach is upset, sweetie. Excuse me,” you say quickly, the bile rising, and you make quickly for the bathroom down the hall. Once safely locked away, you rush to the toilet, sick. Luckily, once out, the queasiness passes quickly.

The doctor said this could happen, you think, looking at the reflection of your red face in the mirror. You rinse your mouth out and splash your face with cold water. It certainly has nothing to do with Elvis. That would be absurd.

It’s just the look in his eyes is haunting you and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s just your hormones being in overdrive. Yes, that makes sense. You are on edge and not seeing things clearly. Or maybe too clearly.

After a multitude of deep breaths, you straighten your dress and hair, then head back out into the fray. You find yourself in an empty house. You wander about to find that most everyone has gone back outside to witness Elvis’ triumphant return to Graceland as procured by the press.

They have arrived, littering the snow-dusted lawn and taking photographs and recordings of Elvis as he sits in front of a huge guitar shaped cake. You peek over someone’s shoulder and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Clad now in all black, his wool coat is appropriate for the chill, but his black shirt is open halfway down his torso, a large gold medallion resting on his bare chest. If he’d looked like the All-American boy getting out of that car not 30 minutes ago, now he looks like the perfect combination of sweet and sinful.

Oh, dear lord.

His chestnut hair is perfectly imperfect, a rogue lock falling over his forehead. You think perhaps he’s added a little shadow and mascara to his eyes, or maybe he’s just exhausted from the long journey home, but whichever it is, the slight darkness on his lids gives him a stunningly beautiful look, his blue eyes popping and dancing with a combination of mischievousness, aloofness, and candor. Somehow, he has retained the youthful swell of his cheeks while also now having a jawline that could cut glass.

As you watch Elvis pick at the cake, deftly putting pieces of it in his mouth with his fingers, the innocent gesture seems almost obscene and that lightheaded feeling comes over you again, this time with a swell of warmth.

You want to look away, you really do, but you’ve forgotten your friend’s natural charm, how his essence pulls even the most unwilling into his orbit. His beauty is one thing, but the feeling that surrounds him is another thing all together. It’s not just you caught in the pull, however. Friends and family gather around, too, though they are likely not experiencing the same type of reaction as you.

Oh, this is utterly ridiculous, you think. Elvis has always been pretty and alluring. Get ahold of yourself.

You think it must be the pregnancy hormones, the way your body flushes from head to toe just watching him eat his cake and play to the camera. You force yourself not to follow as they direct Elvis towards Vernon’s office for the press conference, his tall frame gliding across the lawn in the most confident and nonchalant of ways. He commands his audience as though he’d never left, born to be at the forefront of everything. Focused on the cameras, he does not see you, or so you think, until he catches you staring and quirks his brow.

This finally prompts you to move, turning away quickly and heading back into the warmth of the house. You are glad for the cold, as it gives a reason for your cheeks to be as red as they are, and it douses your heated body with a much-needed chill.

You are embarrassed by your behavior. Elvis is not some idol to be gawked at, not by you. Perhaps it is because you feel so removed from him in his absence, or it is the unasked questions that linger in your mind from before he’d left, but your nerves buzz annoyingly.

You manage to avoid him after the press conference, as he’s utterly exhausted from his trip back home and all it had entailed and sends everyone on their way with the promise of a party the next evening.

Later, lying in bed, you wonder what in the hell came over you. It’s got to be the nerves and excitement about the life growing inside you colliding with the trepidation of your friend’s return all at once. You also know that pregnant women have a multitude of strange physical symptoms, especially in the early days, which would explain nearly everything.

That must be it. It’s not about Elvis at all. It’s your body telling you that you are pregnant.

Finally.

The thought sends a flutter of a different kind through your chest. It’s one of excitement and hope and a little fear. You place your hands on your belly, imbued with a sense of motherly responsibility. You drift to sleep thinking of holding your child in your arms.

The party the next night has Graceland lit up in a way it hasn’t been in years. An air of celebration surrounds the place, chasing away any of the leftover morbidity from Gladys’ passing. You hold Jack’s hand tightly as you enter the mansion, that strange anxiousness from yesterday threatening to ruin your night.

Maybe you should have told Jack about the baby before you came, but no moment seemed quite right. Telling him before work would have distracted him and telling him before the party still seemed to be stepping on the toes of Elvis’ return. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him for sure tomorrow, you think pointedly.

The warm air of the house nearly overwhelms you, and the two of you strip your heavy coats and head towards the sound of Elvis’ boisterous laughter. Your dress is fitted only at the waist and not over the belly, which you are glad for, even though you are hardly showing yet.

You manage to find a seat in the corner with Jack far enough from Elvis that you can breathe, as the fact that he still looks incredible has not changed in the last 24 hours. Why you are so completely stuck on his shocking handsomeness and consumed by whatever prowess he is exuding, you still do not quite know, but it continues to affect you and keep you wary. Shaking off your unhelpful thoughts, you busy yourself talking with Anita, Pat, and the other girls as the men joke and play. After a while, this finally settles your nerves, but you are very conscious of not letting yourself get too close to Elvis as the night goes on, as if being too near will disrupt the tenuous equilibrium you are trying to maintain.

Later in the evening, you excuse yourself and head to the restroom. You can’t help but look in the mirror, rubbing your belly even though it’s impossible to tell yet. This puts a smile on your face, your sweet little secret. And this is how you exit, smiling, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Shit!” you gasp, jumping out of your skin at Elvis leaning casually against the wall across from you. Your heart gallops against your ribcage, one hand flying to your heart and the other to your belly in a protective gesture. “Elvis, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, y/n,” he says, pushing off the wall, eyes remorseful but watching you carefully.

You find yourself barely able to look at him with him being this close. You will your heart to slow, will yourself to act normal, but it’s like you can’t. You can’t quite meet his eyes, you can’t quite breathe and escape is all you can think of. You awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, thinking that it’s why he’s lurking in the hallway, and then you step away from him without another word.

“Hey, now,” he says from behind you, perturbed, “You wait just a damn minute.”

Elvis’ long fingers circle around your wrist, grabbing you, and it feels like fire. Startled, you turn back and look down at how he holds you firm. You hardly have a moment to process that he’s touching you before he’s pulling you into a room across the hallway. Yelping, you have no choice but to follow—he’s much stronger than you—and he holds fast as flips on the lamp and then shuts the door behind the two of you. He releases you, then folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Elvis…” you start, confused and shocked and trying to process whatever is going on.

“Did I make you mad or do something to offend you?” he interrupts, his voice laced with hurt. Those intense blue eyes of his lock you in place, betraying his churning emotions.

“What? No, what are you—?” you sputter out, faltering under his gaze and needing to look away.

“That! That right there. You can’t even hardly look at me!” he points, voice raising angrily. “You barely said three words to me since I been home!” He steps towards you and instinctually you step back, a hand flying to your belly, as the intensity of being this close to him has you completely overwhelmed.

His eyes widen. “Look at you, you can’t even be in the same room as me without skittering away like a little bird. I thought I was imaginin’ it for a minute.” Elvis pauses, looking you over. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly, the hurt palpable in both his body and voice.

Your heart aches at the sight of him like, forcing you to relax and be more mindful of your actions. “No, of course I’m not afraid of you, Elvis,” you breathe. You aren’t, truly.

“Then what did I do?” he asks with such childlike innocence, such hurt, that your heart breaks for causing it.

“Nothing, E, you didn’t do anything, I swear,” you insist, going to him, unable to bear the look on his cherubic face. You force yourself to get close, pushing through your silly fears.

“Why ya bein’ so strange then, baby?” Elvis asks, eyes scanning your face. This close, you realize you could fall and drown in their oceanic blue intensity.

How can you answer that? You certainly cannot say, “Yes, Elvis, I’m being strange because you came back too handsome and your charming presence overwhelms me, and I don’t know where I stand with you, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.”

Your brain scrambles for an answer as the tension between the two of you increases to a level that has you sweating, and you blink up at him, flustered. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that…I guess I am afraid that you’re different, or that things have changed too much while you were gone, or that it’s been too long and that you might not, I don’t know, you might not see me as your friend anymore?” you prattle on, the honesty in your words surprising you. The idea and the truth of it brings tears to your eyes.

His beautiful face softens, his mouth popping open as emotions flash over his features so quickly that you cannot grasp them completely. You feel utterly caught up in him, the loss of control and your feelings frightening you.

“Never,” Elvis whispers finally, “Never in a million years could that happen, baby.” The way he looks down at you is charged, confusing, intense.

Your heart flips. A rogue tear slips down your cheek. Stupid hormones.

You are close enough now that you can feel the energy of him pulsate around you. It makes your breath catch when he brushes the tear off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. You’re not sure if you can bear him touching you more than that because it sends a shockwave through your body.

“So, you missed me?” he asks, a sideways grin beginning to widen on his face.

“’Course I missed you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

“Some way of showin’ it,” he jokes now, breaking some of the tension.

“Well, I’ve had some things on my mind,” you say pointedly. “Life didn’t stop just cuz you were in Germany, ya know.”

You don’t realize that your arm has been wrapped over your belly all this time. Elvis narrows his eyes at you, steps back, and then looks you over very deliberately. Self-conscious and confused under the scrutiny, you blush.

“What?” you ask nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile spreads over his features and his eyes light up. “Congratulations, doll,” he grins at you.

He knows. Elvis, of all people, knows your secret after spending less than five minutes with you.

You are shocked enough that you don’t try to deny it. “I…How…?” you stutter out.

“You bein’ so skittish and protective, and the way you been holdin’ yourself this whole time is different. Explains that real pretty glow about ya, too,” he says, booping your nose playfully.

You blush harder. “Elvis, I just found out. No one knows yet, not even Jack, so don’t you dare go saying anything yet. It’s still real early,” you say in a warning tone.

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Seriously, E, not a freakin’ word, promise me!” you say. He is a terrible secret keeper.

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

“Lord, with the way you’re buzzing, you’d think I was having your baby!” you laugh.

Something changes in his eyes, but it’s gone so quick that you can’t put your finger on it. He does still a bit, though, and you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at you openly. The air has shifted once again.

“Well, we should probably get back out there. Everybody must be missing the man of the hour,” you say, clearing your throat and turning to leave.

Before you can go far, Elvis’ fingers dance over yours, reaching, as if wanting to hold your hand and pull you back but hesitating as if he shouldn’t. Your breath catches, an odd feeling blooming in your chest, like you are falling. You look back and down, seeing and feeling his fingers graze yours in such a strangely much-too-intimate way. He doesn’t stop, fingers brushing and winding through yours. You can’t help the way yours start to move around his in the now heavy silence. Your eyes raise to meet his, heart racing.

“Y/n, I—” he starts to say, voice low and gaze intense.

“EP!! Where the hell you at, man?” Red shouts from the hallway, startling you both, causing you to drop your hands as though they were suddenly on fire. As if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Elvis visibly shakes himself off and crosses in front of you to open the door. It opens a crack and then he stops, turning back to you quickly, mouth open as if he wants to finish what he was trying to say. He must think better of it, though, because he just shakes his head again and sucks in his cheeks before heading out the door without another word.

You pause, frozen to the spot, as your heart thunders in your ears. Befuddled, you try and process the last few minutes, try to piece out what the hell just happened. Your hand splays on your belly, your face hot and your body warm.

You were right, you think, a lot has changed. Everything and nothing, all at once.

After that, things move quickly. With Elvis’ new knowledge, you tell Jack immediately about the baby, pulling him aside at the party. He is thrilled.

A few blissful weeks pass. You’ve been feeling okay physically, just some nausea and lightheadedness, but your nerves are still a bit on edge. The strange moment between you and Elvis the night of the party lingers in your mind, just under the surface, and every time you see him, that odd falling feeling comes over you for a moment. It doesn’t help that when he sees you, something in him changes. It’s so subtle that you doubt anyone notices; in fact, you think you could be imagining it if not for the charged, unreadable look in his eyes. But to you he seems overly attentive to your every move, protective even.

You try and chalk this weird intuition and the way your body feels up to the pregnancy. Your body is changing a little each day, and maybe this is just a part of it.

Elvis has been enjoying his few weeks at home before everything starts up for him again, and consequently, so have all of you, finding yourselves pulled back into his orbit easily. He’s travelling down to Miami soon to be on Frank Sinatra’s show and then he starts filming his next movie in April. You have mixed feelings about this, dreading him leaving so soon again, but you also think perhaps it is a good thing to be away from him considering the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you.

Tonight, he rents out the Rainbow Rollerdome for an evening of what he dubs the “Roller Skating Wars.” You, of course, will not be skating in your condition, but that certainly doesn’t stop you from putting on a cute polka dotted dress and going to observe the chaos you know will ensue.

Jack, unfortunately, stays home, struck suddenly in the afternoon with a sore throat and fever. You tell him you will stay home and take care of him, but he brushes you off and tells you he’s just going to be sleeping anyway, that you should go and have fun. He practically pushes you out the door.

When you arrive at the Rollerdome, you quickly find the girls and plant yourself in one of the big booths with a coke, some popcorn, and some candy. Your cravings for sweets have been intense this last week, and you pick delightfully at the confections as you watch everyone skate around.

Elvis has a silly grin plastered on his face as he wheels up to your table, his hair so long and fluffy on top that it bounces with him, product keeping it standing nearly straight up. On anyone else, it would look absolutely ridiculous, but with Elvis being Elvis, it just seems to highlight how incredibly handsome he’s become. Honestly, he nearly takes your breath away in his dark polo with the popped collar, his eyes electric and dancing, his face long and jaw chiseled.

At least you know that you aren’t the only one noticing the change in his looks, because the other girls seem to blush and smile more as he looms over you all, the skates putting him nearly six and a half feet tall.

“Ladies, everybody got their skates?” he drawls charmingly.

Everyone giggles and there’s a chorus of “Yes, Elvis!” as they show off their skates. For a moment, you are a bit upset that you can’t skate, but that is quickly banished by the excitement of the life growing inside you.

“Well, go on then!” he motions, and the ladies scurry, happy to be summoned.

After they clamor out of the booth, Elvis looks at you more seriously.

“No skating for you tonight, right?” he asks protectively, cobalt eyes narrowing.

Your heart does that falling thing for a moment before you respond. “Nope, feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much!” you smile.

He nods, pleased by this. “Where’s Jack? I haven’t seen him,” he asks, looking around.

“Oh, he’s at home, sick. Booted me out of there. I think he was annoyed at me hovering, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“You gonna be okay over here? I don’t want you to be by yourself,” Elvis says, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll come and watch you all here in a minute. My back’s bothering me a bit, so I’m fine to sit for a spell.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, brow furrowing, as if sensing something about you that you couldn’t sense yourself.

“Yes, E, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, shoo, and go have some fun, but for god’s sake don’t go killin’ yourself or anyone else out there!” you laugh.

Elvis looks at you in that unreadable way of his for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “No promises!” he shouts as he skates away.

You let out a breath after he leaves. His presence is still overwhelming to you, no matter how much you try to logic it away, so for now you are just accepting it. Such is living a life with Elvis in it.

Your back really is starting to bother you, which you attribute to the obvious, and after a few minutes alone, you realize you would rather be around people than not. You get up from the booth, then a wave of dizziness overtakes you and you grab the edge of the table for support as you blink away the spots in your eyes.

You wonder for a moment if you might be coming down with whatever Jack has, but your throat is fine. After a moment, the wave mostly passes, so you make your way to the skating rink to watch the group from the sidelines. There are a few people on the sidelines, and you have fun making small talk and watching the antics in the rink. After a bit, most of the girls come back out as Elvis and the boys are getting pretty rough, and part of you is a little glad Jack isn’t here to get injured.

You ignore the ache in your back (it’s just something you’ll have to get used to, after all) and another wave of lightheadedness hits you as you all head back to the table. You are starting to feel distracted, your stomach churning now a bit, too, and you remind yourself that being pregnant isn’t necessarily a picnic. You feel a bit claustrophobic now, shoved in the booth with the other ladies, and excuse yourself to the restroom, thinking it might be time to go home.

Something’s wrong, you think, a feeling of dread coming over you. Forcing yourself to breathe, you remind yourself again and again that you are just pregnant and these are symptoms of that. You pause at the water fountain to drink, hoping the water might settle your stomach.

As you are bent over, someone zips behind you on skates, then suddenly you feel a hand groping your backside.

Yelping, you choke on the water and jump, turning around.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a man you don’t recognize leers at you, way too close for comfort.

“Excuse me,” you say haughtily, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, making your lightheadedness even worse. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Naw, you’re the prettiest girl in here. Why ya all by your lonesome?” he purrs at you, the sound setting off every warning bell in your body, adrenaline clashing with your dizziness and churning stomach. He leans down, as if to try and kiss you and you push him back.

“Leave me alone!” you say, your voice raising in both volume and pitch. You try to sidestep him, but he grabs you hard and presses you into the wall. You think you might vomit all over him.

“Don’t be like that! All I want is a little kiss,” he says, one wandering hand groping your chest as his lips come at you.

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” you shriek, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his disgusting mouth roams over your face and neck. Your body betrays you, though, your back throbbing, weakness overcoming your limbs, and you can’t fight him off. You curse the fact that the bathrooms are so far back from the rest of the group, and you pray that someone hears you.

“Get off of me!” you try to scream, but he’s trying to silence you with his hand. Panic overtakes you now as you realize this man is going to hurt you, but in your current state, you are unable to fight.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” You hear the low growl before the horrible man boxing you in is yanked backwards and sideways, his eyes bulging in surprise. You gasp as you watch Elvis collide with the man, his momentum from how fast he must have been skating sending the man flying.

The man stumbles and rolls, flailing and falling, and Elvis looks like you’ve never seen him before as he spins around. His eyes are dark and lethal, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his chest heaves with his breath. He looks terrifying, his focus singular, and you are almost afraid for the man. Almost.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Elvis growls again, pulling the dazed man upright by his shirt. “What the fuck were you doin’ to her?!” he yells, pulling back his arm and then socking the man in the jaw so hard you can hear the crack. The man is stunned for a moment, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers, taking a swing at Elvis.

It barely grazes him and doesn’t even phase Elvis, who seems possessed. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch her!” Elvis shouts, then punches the man in the face again, hard, sending him flying.

Things are happening so fast, you can barely process it. You can hardly breathe, the waves of dizziness pouring over you, making it hard to focus.

Elvis goes for the man again, and suddenly you are fearful he might kill him because he seems so blacked out with rage. Elvis hits him again and the man falls to the floor in a heap, bloody and bruised.

“Elvis, Elvis, stop!” you try to call out, but your voice is too quiet, wavering, and he is too far gone. You need to stop him before he does something he cannot take back, and you know something is wrong with you because you can’t get your body to move the way you need it to.

It’s then that a sharp, searing pain burns in your abdomen, and a primal scream bursts from your lungs. A shockwave of agony rolls through you, knocking the breath from your body. It’s so sudden and all-encompassing that you see red, and you clutch at your belly, your head spinning, fearing the worst.

The baby.

Your cry finally snaps Elvis back to reality because he’s with you in a flash, fear and concern flashing over his features, replacing the fury that was there mere seconds ago.

“Y/n! Y/n, what is it? Did he hurt you?” he gasps, looking you over as tears stream down your cheeks.

You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is beating too fast. Then, you feel hot liquid spread from your belly downwards, life spilling out of you, running down your legs. You feel sick as you look down, Elvis’ gaze following your own. That’s when you see the dark red begin to stain your dress and your stockings.

It’s over, it’s over, the baby, oh god, runs through your head, a dismal chant in your mind. You look at Elvis with resigned horror, but you are feeling so lightheaded, you can barely focus on anything. Even the pain starts to wane and feel distant. You know this isn’t normal, even for a miscarriage. Something is terribly wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you hear him beg, his hands on your face, your shoulders, his eyes wild with terror now. “We need help over here!” he bellows, never taking his eyes off you.

They are so beautiful, those crystalline eyes, those dark lashes, you think absently as you begin to slump over.

You are somewhat aware of his strong arms catching you as he slides down with you to the floor. They feel so warm and comforting, you think. You blink up at him, your vision starting to dim.

“Y/n, no, don’t you dare, you stay w-w-with me, b-baby,” Elvis says in a panic, shaking you, pulling you into his lap. A sharp metallic smell permeates the air. “Somebody c-call a damn ambulance!” you hear him shout. You can hear the terror in his voice, in his stutter, and you wonder why he’s so scared. You’ve never heard him this scared.

“Elvis?” you whisper. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard.

“Yeah, b-b-baby?” his voice shudders. You can feel his chest heaving as he presses you into him, rocking you, tucking your head under his. He always has to be moving, his energy always vibrating around him.

“I feel so strange…” you say, and you do. You’re aware of the pain but it feels so far away. Everything feels far away except for the heat of Elvis, which feels like a blanket around you. With the warmth pouring out of you, you start to feel cold.

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211 @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld

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ilydottie · 9 months

Text

Disabled!Reader Headcanons with some of my genshin favs <3

Warnings: minors please do not interact, Reader is physically disabled, Reader is mentally ill, Reader is gender neutral, Reader uses a mobility aid (cane and wheelchair), Reader has chronic pain, he/him pronouns for Albedo, Diluc, & Kaeya, she/her pronouns for Kokomi, Candace, Hurt/Comfort, Reader is implied to have agoraphobia, 1.2k words, anyone can read but please be respectful, any ableists will be blocked on sight!

Characters: Albedo, Kokomi, Kaeya, Candace, Diluc

A/n: This is just a little self indulgent thing i wrote for myself, because I needed the pick me up to be honest. Please know I am writing from my own experiences as a disabled person and that these experiences may not be universal, so please don’t get upset if you can’t relate, because again these are from my own experiences. Other than that please be respectful and abeists fuck off thanks <3

Albedo

Albedo is probably more sensitive when it comes to your disabilities. He helps you up and about through the day whenever you need the extra boost, or grabs your aid for you if it isn't within reach. You were a little embarrassed to use your aid in front of Albedo, purely out of bad experiences with past partners, but he made you feel at home in your body in an instant. He respects your boundaries, watches you to make sure you don’t overwork yourself, and goes above and beyond for you in every single way imaginable. Albedo vowed to protect you as much as possible, knowing you didn’t have that ability in the same way he did. Bedo even put some research into your disabilities hoping to find ways to help you live a happy and painless life. Albedo was good to you, almost perfect. He never judged, said a hurtful or ignorant word, and always, and I mean always, loved and cared for you no matter what state you were in. At the end of the day he just wanted you to be happy and cared for, and if you were? Well, then Albedo was happy, too.

Kokomi

Everyday Sangonamiya Kokomi would start the day early with a nice walk along the oceanside, picking up any shells and pearls she found along the way, placing them gently in her bag. All so she could bring them back home to you as a gift before she had to eventually part ways for the day to do her work. She’ll leave a note for you to read once you’ve woken up, knowing that you’d oftentimes sleep in late and wake up when she was long gone, but thankfully that meant you would see her sooner. Or at least that’s what you told her jokingly whenever she gently suggested you go to bed earlier. When you’re in pain Kokomi will try her damndest to heal you, taking her hands and hovering it over the wound with a concentrated face, until either the pain slightly subsides or you ask her to stop. You know that not always will her healing help you, but you accept it regardless with a smile on your face.

Kaeya

People always say laughter is the best medicine and Kaeya would agree with that sentiment. Whenever you’re experiencing a pain flare up Kaeya is quick to get you whatever you need in a timely manner, but he’s also known for cracking a few lighthearted jokes to distract you from the pain. He loves to tell you how beautiful that smile of yours is and how sorry he is that you’re suffering so much, and how he dearly wishes he could help. You’d smile back at him and assure him his presence was the only thing you needed on your bad days, and of course your usual pain regiment. He’d come home from a long day at work to tell you all about the sights he saw and the stories he heard and everything he had witnessed. It was his own little way of bringing you along with him on his journeys knowing you couldn’t always leave the house so easily as he could. Kaeya wanted you to feel the joys of life, even if some days had to be spent indoors. So, every day he made a goal to make you laugh or smile each day, and not every day did he succeed in that, but he tried his damndest regardless and that’s all that mattered to you.

Candace

She takes good care of you, brings you your medication and aid when you need it, holds you when things are too much on you, and lets you cry all your pain out on her warm shoulder. She’ll hold you close as you cringe in pain and sob in her arms, humming a sweet lullaby to soothe your pain. Candace is sweet and motherly, and will protect you from any potential harm that comes your way whether it’s real or imagined. After a long day of protecting the village she adores coming home to you, bringing you flowers and fruit as an offering for being gone for so long, but you’d wave your hands and assure her that no apology was necessary. You’d only wish for her warm embrace and soft hums to get you through the remainder of the night. Mornings with Candace were your favorite. You’d wake up to a table full of wonderful smelling food and afterwards she’d take you out for a walk around the village. The two of you would chat up conversations with villagers and friends alike, until you grew too tired and needed to go back home to rest and take it easy. It’s moments like those that you realize just how much happier you are with Candace in your life, you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Diluc Every day Diluc makes sure you are doing your exercises, encouraging you with a gentle tone to slowly get up for the day and do your daily walk and physical therapy exercises. He would press the back of his palm to your forehead to check your temperature, urging you to get up for the day. He knows it’s your least favorite part of the day, but both of you knew it had to happen regardless. After he made sure you had your breakfast and done your exercises, and even finished your walk with him; he’d bring out your wheelchair and take you into the front of the winery, letting you soak in the sun and sights as he talked to you about his plans for the days ahead. He might even surprise you with a new outfit to wear on a day out to the city of Mondstadt. Watching with a tender smile as your face lit up at his words when he explained the surprise and what exactly it entailed. You were grateful that Diluc wouldn’t let you stay holed up inside all day, even if some days you wished he’d just let you wallow, you were glad he took such good care of you. And if there was one thing you knew about Diluc it was that he was sure to take the utmost best care of you and would for a very, very long time.

#albedo x reader #kaeya x reader #candace x reader #kokomi x reader #diluc x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n

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littlespacereader · 7 months

Note

Hiii friend!!! I'm back again!!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)!!!

So I started college the other day and so far pretty much every break between classes I have found myself regressing a little (despite trying not to). I was wondering if you'd be okay with writing a fic with any Moonknight character/s and maybe them messaging or phoning reader during class breaks and basically just making sure the reader is okay whilst without them and keeping them entertained.

Obviously completely fine if not!!!

Hope you're having an amazing day/evening/night!!! <333

As someone who is struggling themselves at college I can totally relate and sympathize with you! College sometimes stresses me out to the point of regression or I have so much fun I don’t realize I’m regressing. It’s a tricky situation! So reading this request made me feel a bit better knowing I wasn’t the only one struggling. I love the idea of Steven/Marc and even Jake all checking in on their little one. As per usual I gave a bit extra content to the story but I know you’ll enjoy it! This one talks about the first day at college (which is always super scary!!) and how the three comfort and help their little one.

After writing this I got the idea for another fic, maybe a part 2 to this, where the reader has a bad day at college and Marc, Steven and Jake all make the reader feel better after a rough day at college. What do you think? Let me know if you want me to write that one next😁 Anyway! I hope you enjoy this fic! 💞💞

The Little Moon Goes To School🌙

Caregiver!Marc Spector, Caregiver!Steven Grant, Caregiver!Jake Lockley & GN Little!Reader

Tags - anxiety, first day of school,

Nicknames- little moon, little one, sweetheart, love, Papa(for Jake), kiddo

Steven was a nervous wreck tonight. Tomorrow was his little one’s first day at school…well…first day back to college. He was so excited for them! Don’t get him wrong! But with the new change brought a new sense of anxiety to Steven, Marc and even Jake.

The summer had been spent with his little one close to his side. They went plenty of times to the museum together, plenty of times to the park. But as the summer came to a close both Steven and his little one started to become anxious with the new change of things.

But let’s start with the positives first! That’s how Steven likes to think!

The two of them had fun going to the shop and getting new school supplies. I mean who doesn’t love new school supplies?! Y/N picked out a cute star and moon themed backpack with a matching lunch box, a new water bottle, some notebooks and pencils and finally a rain jacket for the stormy weather London was known for having.

The next positive thing was they could take the bus together every morning. So it was almost like Steven was dropping them off at school each day on his way to work. Plus they wouldn’t be riding by themselves.

Next they could text each other throughout the day. Incase Y/N started to feel little or something was wrong, Steven was simply a text away. Despite Donna’s no phone policy, he managed to make an exception to her tough rule.

Lastly they would see each other at the end of the day, share a bus ride back to their apartment and have the rest of the evening together.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so terrible after all?

Steven kept on a strong face, making sure not to show his little one he was just as anxious about the change as they were. I mean they were inseparable the whole summer, and now they were off to college during the day and he was off to work.

Marc was also just as worried and concerned as Steven, though he was better at hiding it. He took a tour of the school with Y/N, asked a ton of questions about campus safety, and scoped the area out. The school seemed safe enough, but nothing was too safe for his little one expect for when he was by their side. He was also interest in making sure this school was able to meet all his little ones academic needs.

Jake only popped in to explain to Y/N what they should do incase of an attack, which is the last thing Steven wanted Y/N to have to worry about. Jake provided some pepper spray and a very large knife for Y/N to carry with them to school. The knife or more like machete was soon confiscated by Marc when Y/N was asleep. The pepper spray was good enough.

Then, before any of the three personalites knew it, it was the morning of the dreaded day. The alarm clock broke the silence of the peaceful morning.

Both Steven and Y/N groaned awake, wishing for another hour of sleep. But soon the two were out of bed and rushing around the small apartment.

Steven breakfast while Y/N checked their backpack to make sure everything was still packed and ready to go. Then it was off to getting changed. Steven wore his usual, button down shirt and his grey jacket. But Y/N went through one outfit then another than another, each of which Steven thought looked amazing.

But he could see it wasn’t about the outfit their chose, it was mostly their anxiety making them second guess themselves. After the 4th outfit choice Steven stopped them.

He turned them the mirror and smiled, “You look absolutely amazing darling.”

He turned them back around and looked into their eyes with a proud looks on his face, “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you taking such a big step like going to college. You are so incredibly brave. I couldn’t be more proud of you than I already am.”

With tears in both of their eyes, they hugged. Just the two of them, Caregiver and Little, hugging in their small yet cozy apartment.

After a moment or two they broke apart, wiping the tears from their eyes. “Here,” Steven grabbed their hair brush. “Let me do your hair before we leave.”

Steven, Marc and Jake all had their favorite things to do when it came to their little one. Steven was the snuggle bug of the three. He loved to hold or be close to his little one all the time. The three also realized that Steven is the best when it came to doing their little one’s hair since he’s the most gentle.

So it because a routine of Y/N and Steven that he would do their hair in the morning for them. A cute way to start the day! With Y/N all nice and done, the two started to walk towards the front door of their flat.

“Wait!” Steven called from behind them. “We’re forgetting something I just know it.”

Y/N looked at Steven confused, “I don’t think we are…I checked my backpack before getting changed.”

But Steven shook his head, “No I think we’re forgetting something I just can’t…OH!”

Steven ran over to the fridge and took out Y/N’s lunchbox and water bottle. “There we are. Can’t forget your lunch.” He went behind Y/N, putting their lunch box and water bottle securely inside.

“Now are we ready for school?” Steven asked only to get a sad smile from Y/N and a nod of their head.

~~~

I walked out of the flat with Steven and down the hall to the elevator, the entire time holding onto his hand tightly. Reality was kicking in, I would have to leave him soon.

Now I know what you’re thinking “Wow this is very dramatic for just being gone the whole day. It isn’t like you won’t be seeing him at the end of the day.” And you’re right, while it is nice that I’ll be seeing him at the end of the day, it didn’t help my anxiety that I would be away from him the entirety of the day.

We spent the summer together, me right at his side. So to have the majority of my day without him scared me. What if something happened? What if I started to feel Little again? There were too many possibilities.

Faster than I would’ve liked, we made it to the lobby of our apartment building. As always the guy who sells brooms was right outside.

“He’s here this early in the morning? Who wants a broom at this time?” I asked Steven.

He chuckled, “I can’t say I wake up and go: you know what I need right now? A broom.” The two of us laughed.

As we walked down the street we saw our bus arrive. The two of us looked at each other and started to run.

“Wait!” Steven waved with one hand to get the bus driver’s attention. I held onto his other hand tightly as we ran to the runway bus.

Thankfully the driver saw us in time. As the doors opened Steven and I caught our breaths before hoping onto the bus.

“If we made the bus without running to it, I’d have to check if it was a dream or not.” I joked.

“We do not have a good record with the bus schedule.”

“I think they do it on purpose to us.” I added.

We both too a seat towards the back of the bus. And as the bus pulled away and started down the road, the reality of leaving Steven started to hit me some more. I scooted closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder. Steven immediately took note of this and wrapped and arm around my shoulders.

“I know today is going to be tough. But just know I’ll be here if you need anything. You can always text me or call me and I’ll answer right away. Even if it’s not an emergency and you just need someone to talk to I’m just a text away.” Steven tried to reassure.

That definitely made me feel better. I nodded my head and remind resting against Steven.

“I’m going to miss you so much today. I’ll miss my little museum helper.” Steven kissed the top of my head.

“I’m going to miss you too. The summer was too short.”

Steven signed, “Yeah it was too short. But we did have a lot of fun, yeah? And now that the summer is over we have the fall to look forward too. You’re gonna love London in the fall Y/N.”

“Next stop University Parkway.” The bus announced.

Immediately without realizing I grabbed Steven’s hand and held it tightly in mine. My heart picked up speed. I wanted to go to college sure, but I didn’t want to go without Steven. Infact I didn’t want to be without him.

Steven held me closer, his arm still wrapped comfortably around my shoulder and his other hand rubbing small circled on mine.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright. The first day is always super scary. But you’ll be okay. I’m sure you’re going to have lots of fun and make tons of friends. I can’t wait to hear about it all tonight.”

I looked up at him and nodded, tears threatening to spilling. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Steven had to fight it in himself not to cry as well, “I don’t want you too either, but I know you’re going to do amazing today. I’m so very proud of you.”

With that he pulled Y/N into a hug, wrapping one arm around their back and the other holding their head.

The moment was interrupted by the bus coming to a stop. The two broke apart and walked to the doors of the bus.

“Make sure you text me when you get to your class alright?” He reminded me.

“I will.” I ran over and gave him one last hug of the morning. “I love you.”

“I love you to my little moon.” He broke apart from our hug and kissed my forehead. “Later gators.” He smiled.

With one last smile I exited the bus and took in the university. I turned back around and waved to Steven as the bus took off. Then it was just me, by myself, to take on the university.

All it took was that first step. So with one deep breath I took my first step and started walking to the main building to go to class.

~~~

Steven smiled and waved Y/N off as the bus pulled away. Once he was out of sight, he moved to sit back in his seat and finally let go. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to pull himself together. But at the moment he couldn’t.

It broke his heart to see Y/N so anxious and afraid. He wished he could take it all away, all the worry, all the sadness, all the anxiety. He wished he could spend every second with his little one.

But as soon as he knew it the bus came to a halt at his stop, the museum. He got off and clipped his name tag on as he made his way to the entrance.

“Hello Stephan! Where’s your little one today?” The security guard asked.

“It’s still Steven,” he made a point of correcting. “And Y/N won’t be working with me for a little bit, she’s at college.”

“Aw! What a shame! I miss that little bugger running around.”

“Yeah me too.” Steven sighed.

Like clockwork, Steven’s phone pinged. He lifted it up to see Y/N’s text message:

Just got through all the new student orientation and info and I finally made it to my class. Marc was right it was on the left side of the building.😂 But I found it and I’m about to start class. Text you after! 💞💞

Steven smiled at his phone. A wave of relief filled him. They made it to their class alright! He sent them a text back:

So happy to hear you made it there safely! Have a fun class sweetheart! Love you lots!💘

“Stevie!” Donna voice rang out.

“Donna, how are you?” Steven tried to ease in.

“You’re 4 minutes late. And no phones at work.”

“I understand I’m late today. But we already talked about the phone rule. I have to check it incase Y/N needs anything or anything is wrong.” Steven wasn’t someone who had too big of a voice, that was usually Marc or Jake. But when it came to Y/N, he was as loud as me needed to be.

“Right, right, it’s kind of odd seeing you without Y/N here. I almost miss them.” Donna said before she walked away.

Steven smirked to himself, he would definitely have to tell Y/N that later.

~~~

Another text pings Steven’s phone while he’s behind the counter of the gift shop.

Just got out of class. Super nice Professor and the subject is really interesting! I met this girl who sat next to me. She’s super nice. I think I made a friend! :)

That’s wonderful sweetheart! I can’t wait to hear about this new friend and the class!😄 I gotta funny story for you, but it’s going to come as a bit of a shock.

Lay it on me! I’m dying to know!

Donna said she actually misses you.

WHAT?! 😱

I’m dead serious. I almost had a heart attack myself!

Well I had a heart attack and I’m dead now😂💀 Is she feeling okay?

I think she better see a doctor honestly. She’s being almost too nice to me today.😬

Maybe it’s an imposter Donna?👀

You could be right Y/N! I gotta keep a close eye on her.👀

I just found my next class! I’ll text you after that one. Have fun at the gift shop! Talk to you soon!💞

Later gators🐊💘

In a while crocodile🐊💞

~~~

After my second class it was off to lunch. The school had food for sale at the food court but Marc insisted it was all terrible junk food. So he packed me a lunch instead.

I sat down at a lone table and pulled out my lunch box. Right upon opening it was three notes on top, one from Marc, Steven and even Jake.

Hope you have a wonderful day at school. If anyone gives you a weird look or says anything to you, let me know. I promise I won’t kill them. Love you el amado

- Jake :)

Have an amazing day at school. I hope you have a lot of fun and make plenty of friend. I also hope you enjoy the lunch. It’s all your favorites with a cookie at the bottom. (Don’t tell Steven;) ) Love you kiddo!

- Marc

Have a great first day of college Y/N! I love you so much my little moon! I just know you’re going to have so much fun and I can’t wait to hear about it! Love you from the bottom of my heart!

- Steven ❤️ xoxox

Tears started to sting my eyes. Despite my caregiver only being one person, I felt the love of three Caregivers. I couldn’t believe they all took the time to write me a cute little note in my lunch box! I grabbed my phone and started to text Steven:

Thank you for the notes in my lunch box! It was really sweet of you guys! 💞

It was Marc’s idea. He wanted you to have a little piece of each of us on your first day.

What does ‘amado’ mean?

Jake says it means beloved.

That’s sweet of him! Tell him I said thank you. And Marc too!🥰🥰 Can I call you? Are you on lunch too?

Yeah! Just give me a second to clear it with Donna and I’ll take my lunch break. That way we can have lunch together. 😁💘

True to his word, after a couple of minutes my phone began to rang. I picked it up and answered it.

“Steven!!”

“Y/N!! How are you doing? How’s school been so far?”

“It’s been fun! I met another friend in my last class. His name is David. And he offered to show me around the campus one day. He seemed pretty nice.”

There was a bit of silence on the phone for a second. Before I realized it someone spoke again.

“Who is this…David.” Jake’s voice came through the phone.

I sighed and rolled my eyes playfully, “Jake it’s nothing to worry about. He seems fine. I promise! Plus I’m wayyy to busy for any tour today.“

“Alright fine. But if this David starts to act a bit odd you just let me know cariño.” (dear)

“I will Padre.” The nickname slipped out before I realized it. I wasn’t regressing…was I? No, no I was just saying that to Jake as a sign of endearment…yeah…totally…

I quickly changed the subject before he could comment on it, “Steven! Can you ask him to make his special mac and cheese tonight?”

“What’s wrong with my Mac and cheese?” Steven asked.

“There’s nothing wrong! I like yours too…but Marc’s is the best. Sorry!”

It was the honest truth. Marc was more of a chef than the other two personalities. There was a bit of silence until…

“I’d be happy to make it for you tonight. It’s the perfect night for it too, a bit chilly. That way the mac and cheese will warm you right up.” Marc said.

I giggled and kicked my feet under the table. I love Marc’s mac and cheese so much!

“Thank you!! And please tell Steven not to be be down. He always make the best desserts!” I explained, hoping not to hurt Steven’s feelings.

Marc spoke up again changing the subject, “Y/N, are you starting to regress a little bit?” He asked in his normal stern tone. Steven was the pushover, but Marc and Jake were…stern to say the least.

Now was my turn for silence on the other end of the phone. After a moment I answered, “Yeah. I just…I miss you guys.” I looked up in the hopes of not crying.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright! You’re okay! You’ve only got one more class after this and then you’ll hop on the bus and see us again! Look how far you’ve made it on your own today! You should be so proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” I said wiping my eyes. “Just one more class.”

“Exactly, just one more class and then when you walk onto the bus we’ll be waiting there with open arms for you sweetie. You got that?” Marc asked.

“Yeah.” I smiled at the thought.

“Alright then, I’ll give it back to Steven.”

Now that was funny, as if to give him the phone and not the body, which is what he really meant.

“Hi darling! Still doing alright?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see you later!”

“Oh I can’t wait to see you my little moon! I can’t wait hug you and hold you all night.”

Despite Steven best efforts he was making feel more and more little by the second.

“Steven…what should I do if I’m feeling small at school?”

“Hmmm,” Steven hummed in concentration. “That’s a good question darling. Well, first you’re making the right choice letting me know. That way, incase of an emergency, I know what headspace you’re in.”

“Secondly,” Steven continued, “I would put your headphones on. Whether you listen to music or not it will block out the outside noises and make it a little less overwhelming for you.”

“Finally, if you feel too little and want to hold your stuffie you have two options. You could outright hold your stuffie or you could stick their arm out of your backpack. That way if you want to feel their presence, all you have to do is reach back and hold their hand.” Steven explained.

I nodded and took a deep breath. I could do this, just one more class and then I could regress the night away. Steven was right and his idea were just what I needed. “Thank you, I needed that.”

“Of course darling. I’m always happy to help. Listen, I’ll let you go because your lunch is probably ending soon but I’ll see you tonight. If you need me feel free to call or text. Alright love? I love you my little moon.”

I held the phone a little tighter in my hands. Oh how I wish I could just jump through the phone and be with him right now. But I will be strong, just one more class.

“I love you too. Later gators.” My voice broke a bit on the end of that sentence. With that we hung up.

I took another deep breath and tried to level myself. I grabbed my headphones and put the over my ears. Without music playing I kept them on and tried to stop myself from crying. I’ve had a great day! I don’t understand why I’m so upset suddenly.

But then it hit me, the fight against my regression was weighting heavy on me. My body and mind were frustrated with the resistance of not to regressing immediately. But the headphones started to help tremendously.

I grabbed Steven, Marc and Jake’s notes and put them in my pocket for some reassurance. I put my lunchbox away and back into my backpack. There inside I met eyes with my stuffie of Taweret. She stared back at me with her sweet hippo smile. My heart tugged at me to pull her out and hug her. But instead I took Steven’s advice and stuck her hand out so I could hold it every I felt I needed to.

With that I swung my bag onto to my back and went off to my next class.

~~~

Steven anxiously waited on the bus. His shift was over and how he was on his way back home. But first was picking his little one up from their stop. He was lucky enough to get a seat this time, the bus being crowded with the rush hour crowds.

He couldn’t wait to see Y/N. He was nervous the whole rest of the evening with Y/N explaining how they were starting to feel little as the day went on. He hoped he gave them good advice, he hoped they were alright.

Just as he boarded the bus they texted and said they were out of class and heading to the bus stop. So hopefully that meant that by now they were waiting at the bus stop.

But what if something went wrong? Or what if they weren’t there? Steven shook his head and listened to both Marc and Jake yell at him internally. No, Y/N was alright, and they would be right there waiting for him.

Sadly it didn’t makes his nerves feel any less at ease than they didn’t before. The only thing that would make them better is seeing Y/N. Luckily for him he was only one stop away.

His foot bounced anxiously as the bus rounded the corner to the college. Steven stood up and held the handrail as the bus came to a stop right in front of the university. And there Y/N stood.

Y/N smiled through the window at Steven. They ran into the bus and right into Steven’s arms.

“Steven!!!” They hugged Steven so right he could barely breathe.

“Y/N!!” Steven said, hugging back just as tight. “It’s so good to see you! I miss you so much my little moon.”

The two broke apart when the bus started again and they both almost fell over. Steven ushered them to sit while he held the rail next to their spot.

“How was your day darling?” He asked.

“It was amazing!! College is awesome! I met so many nice people and my classes seem like a lot of fun! I met this one girl and she has a pet frog! Could you imagine having a pet frog?!”

Steven laughed. “No I definitely cannot see myself having a pet frog. I’m so happy you had such a great day!” He ruffed their hair a bit.

“I’m happy I did too. I missed you! A lot! But I did have a good day. But now my day is the best!” Y/N said kicking their feet under their chair on the bus.

Steven smiled at his little one, who at the moment was regressing after a long hard day. But they deserved the little comfort. And boy was he planning on spoiling them when he got home.

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teacuptoast · 2 years

Text

Hollow Spectators

Relation: Young Justice x platonic! gn! reader

Warnings: Kinda angsty Idk how to describe this, character injury(ok yeah it's angsty), language

Words: 1.0k

Summary: "Everyone wishes they had superpowers but I’d give anything for them to leave me alone.”

A part 2 loosely based off of Dead or Alive or Neither

A/N: I DID IT!!!! I POSTED!!!!! Anyway, I'm really happy about how this turned out! I've even got an idea for a part 3 if anyone is interested. I hope you all enjoy and please consider leaving me some feedback once you're done with the story!

Navigation:

The worst part was that they would follow him around like lost puppies. Always by his side or a short distance away, like they were afraid they would lose him. Tragically, they were already lost.

The Graysons were a rowdy bunch. It made sense that they’d been a part of the circus, always trying to brush hands with death. Unfortunately I never got to see the family business, though Dicks showed me a few photos here and there. The smile that would paint his face when he talked about his childhood only got brighter as he got older.

He still missed them; can’t imagine he wouldn’t. Though despite his youthful tragedy, he’d grown into quite the gentleman. I wanted him to keep growing. That’s why I couldn’t let them talk to him.

“Please, please, let us talk to our son,” She weeped, drifting closer to my seat at the counter.

It was just Dick and I in the watchtower. Being on watch duty was never a particularly exciting event, but he made it bearable. He’d mostly spend his time cooking or looking through files while I tried to ignore his overbearing parents.

Despite what they think we’ve never been anything more than friends, I’d even go as far to him my brother. He needed an older sibling and I gladly took up the position. We’ve spent a majority of our teen years together, celebrating together, and grieving together. I’d even stayed in the manor a few times. He was the little sunshine I needed in my rather gloomy life.

“You're selfish and shallow. Let us talk to our son,” as Dick passed me a glass of water I thanked him softly, not bothering to look at the hollow spectators. Nodding back he leaned against the counter and we slipped into our usual conversation.

Talking about everything from the weather to his new job with Will. I didn’t even flinch at the hateful comment thrown towards me. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. I soon started to talk about myself and my pursuit of my master's degree. Through the conversation I watched Dick start to bite the inside of his cheek.

That that was a nervous tick of his, one that only happened when he was about to drop a bomb on me.

“You're a monster. You don’t deserve to have the meta gene. You're no hero.`

My concentration on our conversation quickly broke. I knew they were trying to piss me off, and they sure were doing a good job at it. Trying to casually glance at them my eyes hardened. They were standing where Dick was, next to the open cabinet of glassware. “You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve to know our son-”

“I’m going to propose to Barba.”

Almost as if I forgot there where there I turned back too look at him.My face widening to a grin, as he nodding back excitedly like a little kid. He was going to marry the love of his life. He was going to be so happy-

Before I could finish my thought, I felt a dense pain consume the side of my face. Following the impact on my head, the shards broke into smaller pieces, respectively knocking me off the stool. Hitting the floor I was too shocked to brace myself for impact, meeting the glass shards that had fallen down just seconds before. A large ground left my mouth.

As soon as my eyes carefully reopened I looked towards the culprit, “You pasty son of a bitch.” I didn’t get another chance to look at them before Dick covered my view. He cradled my neck in his hands and spoke words that I could bother hearing. I was more concerned with the looming desire to sleep, or how the hell his mom was able to throw a vase at me.

***

“We swept the entire building. Every camera, every sensor, even every air vent. We would have seen them if they had come into the Watchtower.”

Groaning awake I found myself surrounded by familiar heroes dressed in black. Dick, or well now, Nightwing, sat on the chair beside me while Batman stood at the foot of my bed. Next to him were Robin and Spoiler as Barbra entered through the door. They continued to theorize about my attacker for the next few minutes while I patiently listened.

After hearing the most obscure of theories I decided to sit up in bed. It was anything but comfortable; I just wanted to look at least a little presentable. Placing a hand on my wrapped forehead I looked to the man himself.

“Did you know who it was who attacked you?” He asked me.

‘Yes. Yes I did. It was Dicks parents who refused to move on while they had the chance and have now grown bitter. Apparently bitter enough to throw a vase at my head. I have no clue how they did that by the way. Did I mention she is snickering behind you Bruce? She is enjoying the hell out of this. Wait sorry, you don’t know yet do you, I CAN SEE DEAD PEOPLE! AND I'M LOSING MY MIND OVER HERE BECAUSE I CAN’T GO ANYWHERE WITHOUT HAVING SOME NOSEY, SELFISH, ANNOYING SON OF A BITCH FOLLOWING ME AROUND-’

“Did you?”

“Batman, can I have a word with you? Alone?”

Their family turned from me to Batman, curiously awaiting his answer. It didn’t take long though before he started pushing them out the medbay door. I let my gaze drop into my lap, not knowing if I was ready to tell him or not, though he beat me to the chase.

“Your meta genes have activated. Haven’t they?” His eyes were cold as he questioned me. To him I was now an unpredictable variable and Bruce doesn't like things he can’t control.

“They’ve always been activated,” I started, “Though they’ve never been useful. Everyone wishes they had superpowers but I’d give anything for them to leave me alone.”

“Who’s them?”

“They’re everywhere. A few of them are in the watchtower as we speak. Though the worst ones always follow my friends around. They’re dead and angry and won’t leave me alone…I just want them to leave me alone.”

A/N: How was the story? Got some feedback? Let me know in the comments. Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon!

#dick grayson x reader #dc x reader #nightwing x reader #young justice #young justice imagines #nightwing #young justic x reader #dc #sorry for the angst #wally west x reader #batfam x reader #batfam

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mayhem24-7forever · 2 years

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Time Is Running Out - Running Out of Time Part One

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Mitchell!Reader Oneshot

~ Part Two ~

Maverick’s daughter is hiding a pretty big secret from her dad and her friends, hopefully Jake won’t blow it all...

Author’s Notes: Ok so first of all, I don’t want minors reading any of my fics, even if they are SFW so this one is especially off limits! I deserve a safe place to express myself so please respect my boundaries. Yeah the ‘L word’ joke is from Scott Pilgrim Versus the World but I didn't remember/realize that until after I wrote it and I think it’s cute as fuck so we’ll pretend its a reference or a homage like the joke in The Quarry. My apologies Edgar Wright, apparently we share a brain cell for dialogue writing/joke making. This was originally going to be a Bob fic but I wrote it so out of character for him that it was actually in character for Jake and decided to switch it over. A large portion of this is just me naming banger 80’s songs, making really random references to other projects that the top gun actors have been in and definitely ripping off the rooftop dance scene from Set It Up so I’m sorry. Huge thank yous to @a-reader-and-a-writer for originally beta reading this and pointing out that it would be better as a Jake fic than a Bob fic and to @skvatnavle and @maggiescarborough for beta reading as well. Dividers by @jbarneswilson.

Content Warnings: secret dating, fluff, NSFWish, smutish, really suggestive content, super light fingering/oral/teasing, super light breast and ass fondling, public sex, almost caught, low key forbidden romance-ish, alcohol, kissing/making out/hickeys, that super relatable feel when you’re trying to act normal in front of your best friend but your boyfriend has his head under your skirt, lowkey public sex/exhibitionism, mentions of the military, overprotective fathers/boyfriends/best friends, mentioning murder/robbery/criminals, talk about locking doors/walking someone out to a car as a safety precaution/pepper spray (aka the reality of being a young woman alone at night), adult language/cursing

“Last call! I ain’t waiting here until the sun rises so pack it up!” Y/N Mitchell called from behind the bar to the last group of customers all gathered around the pool table.

It was exceptionally late at night—or very early in the morning depending on your perspective—and the only people left in The Hard Deck were Y/N and the Top Gun team, who were engaged in a very heated game of ‘cutthroat pool’. As Hangman, Rooster, Phoenix, Coyote, and Payback played, Bob and Fanboy sat to the side and talked about a new weapons system they had to learn. Y/N had been left to run the bar on her own as Jimmy had gotten off work early in the afternoon to take his grandchildren to see a movie and her father, Maverick, had taken Penny home around midnight. Overall, the night had gone quite well. But 2 A.M. was the bar’s official closing time so it was time for them to go.

“Well, I’m gonna head out! Got a booty call from a hottie to get to!” Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin announced, standing up and heading towards the door. “Good night and thanks for the beers, Y/N!”

“Have fun with your booty call!” She called after him with a smirk. “Wrap it before you tap it!”

He walked out the door, Y/N and Jake sharing a secret grin with one another at their private joke before he left. They had been dating for almost a month but no one else knew, not even Penny. If her dad found out that she was dating a member of the team, the couple would be in pretty hot water as he was incredibly protective of his only child. So they had decided to keep their blossoming romance a secret from the world. Hence, Hangman’s nightly announcements that he had a different girl to go fuck to throw the team off their trail.

“Good night!” Payback, Coyote, and Fanboy each called out as they headed out the front door and she waved.

“Need me to stay while you close and walk you out to your car?” Rooster asked.

“Did my dad put you up to this?” She asked and he laughed.

“No, but he’d probably appreciate me keeping an eye on you.” he replied and she smiled.

“Alright teacher’s pet, sorry to rob you of making my dad happy but I’m a big girl and I can get myself home just fine.” she replied. “But I really do appreciate it. Thanks Bradley.”

“Alright fine, but if you get murdered by some psycho masked killer or something, I want you to know that your dad will make sure I am held solely responsible for your death.” Bradley joked and she rolled her eyes.

Something like that might have sounded strange or even morbid to anyone else but Y/N had known Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw for her entire life. He was her best friend since they were kids and they’d even lost their virginities to one another as an experiment before Bradley joined the navy, a fact that the team had regretfully learned about during a very, very drunk night of truth or dare. There was nothing romantic between the pair, there never had been, but it didn’t stop Jake from being a little bit jealous of his mustached wingman.

“Go home Bradley before I use my pepper spray on you instead of a crazed murderer.” she responded, shoving him playfully towards the door and shaking her head.

“Alright, good night Y/N.” Rooster said as he left, Bob and Phoenix following with their goodbyes as they exited.

She closed the door behind them before going to the side patio doors leading to the beach and closing them as well, remembering to lock them too. Her next order of business was to turn off the jukebox and plug her phone into the speaker system, selecting her closing and cleaning playlist. It was mostly comprised of 80’s hits that her dad had gotten her into and she loved to listen to them in the empty bar. The opening guitar riff of “Dead Man’s Party” by Oingo Boingo played out of the bar speakers and she adjusted it to a slightly lower level that she could still hear.

She swayed to the beat and hummed the tune as she updated the bar tab books and counted out the cash register. It took a few songs to finish at the register and to put the cash in the safe in the back office but she was soon onto the next closing task of washing the mugs and glasses in the back kitchen area and taking notes for Jimmy on what needed to be restocked during his opening shift.

She was beginning to mop up a few spots of spilled beer on the floor when “Let’s Hear it for the Boy” by Deniece Williams began playing. She smiled, the song always reminded her of Jake, because he took her to see an anniversary showing of Footloose at a drive-in-theater for their first date. The song never failed to make her happy and she couldn’t stop herself from dancing around the bar, singing into the mop like a microphone as she cleaned up sticky puddles of spilled drinks.

Unbeknownst to her, Jake had come back to the bar and entered through the back kitchen door. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning on the door frame as he watched his girlfriend dance around the room. She sang along loudly to the lyrics and he smiled. Her little cleaning concerts were one of the things he loved most about her and part of the reason why he kept coming back to help her close the bar, even if it was really late and he was tired. Her energy and happiness gave him energy and made him happy.

His only complaint was that she always got so into the music that she wasn’t aware of her surroundings and often forgot to lock the back door, a bad habit that made him nervous. The other part of the reason he would come to help her close, no matter how exhausted he was, was because he worried about her and wanted to make sure she was safe. It wasn’t like Fightertown and San Diego were dens of crime or something, he just had the urge to protect her because he loved her so much, not that she knew. They hadn’t said they loved each other yet, although they both felt that way. As he watched her sing and dance as she cleaned, completely oblivious to him in the doorway, he decided to surprise her and quietly moved towards her.

“Oh maybe he’s no Romeo but he’s my lovin’ one-man show!” She sang into the mop handle, loudly and only slightly off key. “Oh whoa-oa-oa let’s hear it for the b-”

He cut her off as he wrapped his arms around her stomach and pulled her up in his arms, spinning her around with a laugh. She dropped the mop in surprise and screamed for a moment before realizing that she recognized the arms holding her and the laugh in her ear as that of her boyfriend.

“Jake!” she squealed as he put her down and she turned around in his arms to slap his chest angrily. “Don’t do that! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Really? Let me check your pulse.” He replied with a smirk as he put his palm on her breast and squeezed lightly. “It does feel a little fast.”

“Very funny.” she said as she rolled her eyes and tried to stay mad at him but couldn’t, cracking a smile as she pushed his hand away. “Did you come back here just to feel me up while I’m trying to close up?”

“I actually came back to spend some quality time with my girlfriend and protect her but your option is much more fun.” Jake said, reaching to grab her breasts again and she shook her head, laughing as she pushed him away.

“Protect me?” she questioned.

“Someone’s gotta do it since for some reason you refuse to lock the door when you’re here alone!” Jake said matter-of-factly as he moved to wrap his arms around her waist again.

“I forgot, okay!” she replied, setting her hands on his chest as she looked up at him and he raised his eyebrows in doubt.

“I’ve told you to lock the back door a hundred times, what if I was some crazy guy with a gun or something?” Jake asked.

“Oh my God! You sound just like my dad and Bradley!” she exclaimed with a smile.

“Because they’re right.” he replied.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked as she put a hand against his forehead as if to check his temperature. “Hangman and Rooster agreeing on something? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” He shook her hand off his head as she laughed.

“We are capable of getting along occasionally, you know.” he said with a smile before getting a little more serious. “But seriously babe, you have to start remembering to lock the back door. I worry about you, okay?”

She nodded her head and gazed into his earnest green eyes, touched by the affection and worry he held for her.

“I’m sorry babe, I really am trying to remember.” she said, putting a hand on his cheek affectionately.

“It’s alright, I’ll just have to come be your personal bodyguard and help you close every night until you remember.” Jake replied and she laughed.

“You’d get bored.” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I could never get bored of you.” he said and she smiled, pulling him into an appreciative kiss. When they pulled back, he continued. “I am sorry that I interrupted your stage performance, your mop microphone is cute and I love your singing voice. I hope you were thinking of someone special as you sung…” He trailed off with a smug grin.

“I was actually.” she answered, a sly smile creeping onto her face as she continued. “I was thinking about Bradley. ‘He’s my lovin’ one man show’, you know? I just think he’s so hot-”

He cut her off by surging forwards to give her a jealous and possessive kiss, so hard and passionate it took her by surprise for a moment before she leaned into the kiss. He kissed her like a man possessed for a few moments more and then pulled back, smirking down at her as she tried to catch her breath, confused as to why he stopped.

“You were saying something about pornstache?” he asked smugly.

“Alright fine, I was singing about you.” she said and as he began to celebrate she quickly added “But don’t let it get to your head!”

“I’ll try.” he replied.

“I didn’t think you were going to come back tonight, you’ve done it three times this week.” she said, seizing the quiet moment to let out some of her anxieties. “The team is gonna get suspicious at some point and when they find out, my dad is gonna find out.”

“No one is going to find out.” Jake assured her, stroking her cheek. “I drove little down the highway before turning around and taking the back streets and I parked behind the dumpster. Besides, the team thinks I’m sleeping around with a different girl every night. If anyone asks me where I was, I just make up a name.”

“Finally, your reputation as a man-whore is paying off.” she laughed and Jake clutched a hand to his chest as if he was offended.

“You think I’m a whore?” he asked with a fake gasp before laughing.

“A different girl every night? If the shoe fits…” she joked, trailing off.

“Don’t slut shame me for my cover story or I may have to battle the skank allegations by telling everyone where I’m really spending my nights.” Jake shot back and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not slut shaming, there’s nothing wrong with being a little slutty.” she said. “But ‘skank allegations’? You’re so dramatic.”

“But you love it.” Jake replied with that charming smile of his.

“I tolerate it.” she countered with a laugh. “There’s a difference.”

“I’m hurt!” he said sarcastically before turning serious for a moment. “But seriously, your dad and the team aren’t gonna find out until you’re ready to tell them, you don’t have to worry.”

She nodded and gave him a small appreciative smile but he could tell there was still something bothering her. “What is it babe?”

“You really don’t mind keeping us a secret for now? Sneaking around and telling not-so-little white lies to the team?” she asked, before biting her lip nervously.

“I really don’t mind. I think it’s kinda hot actually.” he assured her with a wink and a light slap on her ass.

She laughed but shook her head and put a hand to his cheek, gazing into his eyes seriously.

“Jake, I’m serious!” she said. “I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of us because I’m not, I’m just nervous about telling my dad that I’m dating one of his pilots. He gets so protective and I don't want it to change your relationship with him or with the team. Plus, you and Bradley are finally getting along and I don’t want it all to go to waste when he probably tries to kill you for this. We’ll tell them soon, just not now.”

He cupped his hands on her cheeks and spoke clearly, not breaking his earnest gaze for even a moment. “Babe, I swear to you that I don’t care if no one knows about us or if the whole world does. I don’t care if I have to fight Rooster or deal with your pissed off father, all I want is to make you happy.” She smiled and pulled him into a kiss before pulling back and resting her forehead on his, the tips of their noses barely touching.

“Who knew that beneath all that cocky playboy confidence there’s a really great and sweet guy that I’m really lucky to have?” she said lowly as she looked into his smiling eyes. “You, Jake Seresin, were the most unexpected surprise in my life.”

“A good surprise I hope.” he said, just an edge of nervousness in his voice.

“A really good surprise and I’m so glad for it.” she replied and he pulled back to kiss her on the forehead, holding her close in his arms as he gathered the courage he needed.

“All I ever do is try to live up to the man you deserve. You’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever met…” he paused, taking a deep breath before adding “I know we haven’t used the ‘L word’ yet but I want you to know that I’ll do anything for you.”

“The ‘L word’? Lesbians?” she joked and his heart fluttered at her attempt to make him feel less nervous.

“Yes. Y/N Mitchell, I am deeply and hopelessly in lesbians with you.” he said playfully but she could tell he meant every single word, her heart skipping a beat.

“Then I guess it’s a really good thing that I am also deeply and hopelessly in lesbians with you, Jake Seresin.” she replied, so grateful he felt the same way as her before pulling him into a long kiss that said more than any words ever could. They hadn’t specifically used the word ‘love’ but they both knew what the other meant. When they pulled back, she smiled as she stepped backwards and out of his arms. “Now, we’d better start cleaning unless we want to be here all night.”

“Yeah, we’d better.” Jake said with a grin, slapping her ass as he walked past her to pick up the mop and finish up the sticky spot she had been working on before he arrived and distracted her.

She began wiping down the bartop as he finished with the mop and put it away before grabbing a rag and wiping down the tables, putting the chairs up on them as he finished each one. She was sweeping when he finished and he took out the trash, returning from the back to see her trying to reach something on a high shelf by the pool table, stretched up on her tip-toes. He smiled and hurried over, easily grabbing the object from the shelf and handing it to her as she thanked him.

“Are these yours?” she asked, holding up a pair of sunglasses someone had left behind.

“Nope.” Jake replied. “I left mine in my car.”

“Damn. I’ll have to put them in the lost and found box, I don’t know who they belong to because everyone wears sunglasses and they all look the same.” she said as she headed over towards to put them in the box under the bar.

She resumed sweeping and he grabbed a broom to join her, although he was more of a hindrance than a help as he kept poking her with the broom, bumping hers with his, and taking dance breaks from sweeping every ten seconds.

“I was born to love her and I will never be free, you’ll always be apart of me!” Jake sang along loudly to “Always Something There To Remind Me” by Naked Eyes as she shook her head with a smile and told him to keep sweeping, ignoring his pantomime concert. He kept singing, increasing his efforts to get her attention as she tried, and failed, to focus on sweeping. Eventually he dropped the broom and started wildly flapping his arms around like he had lost feeling in them and was trying to wake them up. She was amazed he hadn’t fallen over from jumping around so much.

“You’re gonna break a leg or something if you keep doing that, Jake.” she said with a laugh as she paused her cleaning. “You have to fly tomorrow.”

“Don’t need legs to fly, babe.” he said as he shimmied towards her and pushed the broom out of her hand, letting it clatter on to the floor as he continued dancing in front of her.

“You look like a dying bird trying to do a mating dance.” she said as he bobbed his head towards her.

“Is it working? Am I seducing you?” He asked and she put a palm to his forehead and gently pushed him backwards.

“We have work to do.” she replied simply, but he could see she was trying to hide her grin as she leaned over to pick up her broom and continue sweeping. “God, no one would ever believe me if I told them how much of a dork you can be sometimes.”

“Only for you, babe.” he said, his movements slowing as he watched her try to stop herself from smiling as she swept, avoiding looking at him. “I just really love making you laugh.”

He took a break from dancing to catch his breath as the song ended and the next began, the opening notes of Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away” filling the room.

“Oh, I love this song!” Jake exclaimed, holding out a hand to her. “Dance with me?”

“No, at least one of us needs to keep cleaning.” she said as she paused her sweeping to look at him.

“Pleeeease?” he asked with a fake pout with big puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. One dance and then we have to finish up.” she said as she leaned the broom up against a nearby table and took his hand.

He pulled her in against his chest, smiling in victory. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other holding one of her hands as she hooked the other around his neck. They swayed slowly to the beat as he held her close, smiling down at her.

“It’s just like prom.” she joked and he laughed, each chuckle reverberating against her chest.

“I didn’t go to my prom.” Jake said. “I did go to the after parties though.”

“That is so you.” she replied.

“What was your prom like?” he asked.

“Bradley took me.” she answered and Jake quirked an eyebrow up in surprise. “He wasn’t gonna go but my boyfriend broke up with me a week before the dance. I was really upset and I already had my dress and everything, so he came so I wouldn’t be alone. I think my dad asked him to.”

“Did you dance like this with him?” Jake asked, just an edge of apprehensive jealousy in his voice.

“No, I didn’t.” She said with a smile. “His dancing is atrocious, I could only get him out on the dance floor once or twice and I think it was for just like the macarena or something like that.”

“So, I’m not only a better lover than him, but I’m also a better dancer… good to know.” Jake said, smirking.

“You know that Bradley and I are, and always have been, just friends, right?” she asked, looking up at him and trying to make sure he knew she was serious. “I know I can’t keep you from being competitive with him but I want to make sure you know that you have nothing to be jealous about. I’m in love with you, not him.”

“I’m always gonna be a little jealous that he was your first but I know that I’m gonna be your last.” Jake said and she smiled before laying her head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat as they swayed in a circle.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and began to whisper along with the lyrics to the song in her ear.

“Take my breath away…” he murmured, in a singsong voice.

“You take my breath away, Jake.” she whispered back and he smiled, before moving her into a spin.

She giggled as he turned her in his arms, wrapping himself around her back and then spinning her away again. They twirled around the room together, her making her laugh every time he spun her out and reeled her back in. As the song ended, he reeled her back one last time, holding her waist to keep her back to his chest.

“I think we’ve done enough cleaning for tonight.” he said lowly, his breath hot on her neck as she craned up and backwards to look at him.

“Oh really?” she asked, her eyebrows raising in amusement.

“Yeah, I do.” he said before dropping his voice into a whisper, lips ghosting the very edge of her ear. “And I’ve always wanted to fuck you on the bar.”

She smiled and pulled out of his arms, making her way around the bar to stand across from him. She leaned over, her elbows on the wood holding her weight as she continued tipping forwards, giving him a perfect view of her cleavage.

“What, this bar?” she asked coyly before she smirked and crooked a finger at him, beckoning for him to join her.

He didn’t waste a second to join her behind the bar, pulling her into a hard and passionate kiss, every movement radiating with need and hunger. His hands on her waist tightened and he moved her backwards until her back hit the edge of the bar. In one swift motion, he lifted her up and onto the bar top and she could feel his grin against her lips as she squeaked in surprise. He slotted himself between her legs and pulled her flush against him, one hand with a firm but gentle grip on the side of her face and the other on the side of her thigh, which was bare as her sundress had ridden up. Her hands were hooked behind his neck, her fingers threading into his hair.

“Couldn’t stop looking at you in this dress all night…” he said between rough and demanding kisses, taking a handful of the fabric in his fist as he pushed it further up to expose her panties beneath it. “I just couldn’t wait to get under it.”

“You really like it?” she asked breathlessly as she pulled backwards for gasps of air. “I got it for Bradley’s birthday party last month but I decided not to wear it because I thought it made me look fat.”

“You look fucking gorgeous. You always look so fucking beautiful.” he said, hands wandering around her body. “And don’t mention Rooster while we’re making out, you’re gonna make me jealous.”

“Oh really? Well then… Bradley Bradshaw.” she said smugly, teasing him as her eyes dared him to punish her. He gave a dramatic sigh.

“Well, I guess I have to fuck you so hard you can’t remember your own name, let alone his. The only name I want to hear out of those pretty little lips tonight is mine.” he said gruffly, kissing her in a hard, claiming kiss before moving his lips down to her neck, hiking her leg up to press himself against her core.

“Oh, fuck…” she said, half a moan as he ground the bulge in his jeans against her pantied pussy as he expertly tongued her favorite spot just under her ear. “Jake, you can’t leave a hickey this time, I don’t think that my dad will buy that I burned myself with a curling iron again this week.”

He raised himself off her just enough that his lips still grazed her skin, his words muffled when he said “Just tell him it was a straightener this time.”

He immediately resumed working his way down her neck, her laugh turning to a moan when he reached her chest. Her fingers shook as she tried to unbutton his shirt, desperate to get at the toned abs beneath it. She was about halfway through when they heard the front door jiggle, just barely audible over the soft music. They froze as the door clicked open, grateful that the part of the bar they were at wasn’t visible from the front door.

“Did you really forget to lock the front door too?” Jake whispered.

“I thought I did!” she replied as quietly as possible.

“Y/N, are you still here?” Rooster’s voice called from out of sight as the door swung open with a creak.

“Oh fuck! Hide!” she whispered frantically, slightly panicking as Jake pulled her off the bar top and ducked down just before Rooster walked into sight.

She quickly grabbed a nearby rag and pretended to wipe down the spot she had just been seated at, Jake’s hot breath against her thigh as he knelt beside her, pressed up against a keg of beer connected to a tap. Rooster was oblivious to her panic as he was scanning the room for something.

“I forgot my sunglasses, have you seen them?” he asked as he looked around the piano.

“You came back here at four in the morning to get your sunglasses?” she asked, flustered and a little annoyed they had been interrupted.

“Yeah, they were my dad’s and you know how I don’t like not knowing where they are.” he replied, continuing to look around the room as he made his way towards the pool table.

“Oh…” she said, trailing off as she thought about how attached Bradley was to his dad’s belongings, especially his Hawaiian shirts and sunglasses. Suddenly, Jake stuck his head under her sundress and she squeaked in surprise when she felt his hot breath on her inner thigh.

“Are you alright?” Rooster asked, looking up from his search to check on her.

“Uhh… yeah, no, I’m fine! Totally fine!” she said, discreetly smacking at Jake’s head under her skirt which did nothing to deter him from sneaking his hands up her legs and gently palming her ass. She could practically feel him smirking against her thigh. “Just something in my throat, you know?”

“More like something in your cunt…” Jake muttered into her panties, so quietly that she could barely hear him, meaning that Bradley couldn’t from across the room but she cleared her throat loudly to cover it anyways.

“Uhh, okay.” Rooster said as he continued his search.

Jake licked a stripe on her panties, his nose nudging her clothed folds and she had to bite down hard on her lip to stop a moan from escaping. She thanked the heavens that Bradley was too preoccupied poking around the pool table to notice her behavior.

“Have you seen them?” he asked as he checked the shelves and the windowsill.

“Seen… seen- seen what?” she asked, struggling to focus and not moan out loud as Jake slipped two fingers under her panties and stroked her dripping folds.

Mercifully, Jake removed his wandering fingers when she smacked his head again and he chuckled really quietly against the skin of her inner thigh before pulling his head out from under her dress. Rooster turned to look at her in concern.

“My sunglasses… Are you okay? You’re acting a little weird.” he said as he raised an eyebrow in concern.

“I’m just really tired Bradley, can’t wait to get home and get some sleep, you know…” she said meeting his eyes and seeing a hint of suspicion in them so she quickly added “I put your sunglasses in the lost and found box, just give me a second.”

She ducked down under the bar to crouch at Jake’s level, glaring at him as he smirked, licking her juices off his fingers.

“Yeah babe, what’s wrong? You’re acting weird.” he whispered smugly.

“I’m gonna kill you.” she whispered as she grabbed the sunglasses from the box and stood back up to address Rooster, holding them out. “Here you go Bradley!”

He smiled and moved to her to grab them, her heart racing as she realized all he had to do was look down to see Jake behind the bar. Mercifully, he didn’t look down, just backed up and slowly headed for the door.

“Thanks!” he said before stopping and turning around, her heart stopping with him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay while you finish up and walk you to your car?”

“No!” she said way too quickly and loudly, immediately switching to a more casual tone and volume. “I mean… no, I have to do some inventory and it’ll take at least an hour, but thanks for offering.”

“Alright.” Rooster replied. “Just make sure you lock the door next time, I could have been anyone.”

“Told you…” Jake muttered from under the bar.

“Did you say something?” Rooster asked.

“Yeah, I just said I’d walk you out.” she covered quickly, lightly and discreetly kicking Jake as she moved from behind the bar and to the front door.

She hugged him and said goodbye as he left, locking the door behind him before turning around with her eyes closed to sigh heavily in relief, her back pressed to the door. When she opened her eyes, Jake was leaning against the wall that blocked the bar from view at the door. He had a shit eating grin on his face, his blonde hair was lightly tousled from when she had been pulling it on it, and his shirt was still only half-buttoned, exposing his tanned and toned chest.

“Leaving the front door unlocked too?” he tutted smugly. “You definitely need me here to protect you.”

She marched towards him and smacked him on the chest angrily.

“Ow.” he said quietly, more out of surprise than actual hurt.

“Jacob Thomas Seresin!” she scolded, angrily wagging a finger at him and pointing it into his chest. “What is wrong with you? Are you absolutely insane?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” he said, putting his hands up in surrender before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “I just couldn’t resist.”

She pursed her lips, tying to stay mad at him but couldn’t as he gave her a charming grin. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Do you really want Bradley to find out about us because you can’t stop yourself from poking your nose under my dress in front of him?” she asked, a reluctant smile forming as she tried to keep chewing him out. “He’d probably kill you!”

“Oh, he’d definitely kill me.” Jake replied. “But what a way to go! I would die a happy, happy man.” She couldn’t stop herself from laughing at that.

“You’re ridiculous and you are so unbelievably lucky that I love you and that I thought it was a little hot.” he began to smile in victory but she quickly added “But I’m still mad at you so you’d better take me home and try to make it up to me. We can fuck on the bar some other time.”

“Yes ma’am!” Jake said, grinning widely as he gave her a mock salute and swept her off her feet and into his arms, carrying her towards the back door to get her things and leave.

Hangman strutted onto base the next morning feeling exceptionally good despite having gotten approximately two hours of sleep. He walked towards where the rest of the team, minus Maverick, stood in a circle in the middle of a hanger, discussing something.

“Hangman, you look good.” Rooster said as he approached, a strangely sly grin on his face.

“I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.” he replied with a smile as he reached the group and took off his sunglasses.

“That wouldn’t happen to be because you’re fucking Maverick’s daughter, would it?” Bob asked, so nonchalantly that Jake had to do a double take to fully realize what he’d just said, his grin sliding off his face.

“What?” He asked, gaze flickering around the smirking faces of the group.

“We know you’re fucking Y/N.” Phoenix informed him and his mind was racing as fast as his heart was beating, trying to figure out what he was supposed to say to that.

“I… I uhhh… I told you guys I was with a booty call last night…” was all he could manage to say in defense.

“Your car was only partially blocked by the dumpster.” Rooster said with a smirk before leaning in to whisper in his ear so that only he could hear. “And Jake… I know what she sounds like when she moans, even if she tried her best to hide it.”

“Smile!” Coyote said as he snapped a picture of Jake’s face, pale and frozen like a deer in headlights before examining it and showing it to the group. “Now that’s one for the Christmas card!”

“But don’t worry, man.” Rooster said smugly, clapping Hangman on the back and pulling him shoulder to shoulder. “I’m not gonna kill you or anything.”

“You’re not?” Jake asked, eyebrows raised in surprise and confusion.

“Nope.” Rooster replied before turning around and pointing at a figure storming down the tarmac and towards the hanger. “He is.”

“LIEUTENANT SERESIN!” Maverick roared angrily as he stopped at the bay doors.

“Fuuu-” Hangman muttered.

“GET OVER HERE!” Maverick barked, pointing angrily at the space directly in front of him. “NOW! THAT’S AN ORDER!”

“Go get ‘em tiger!” Rooster said, pushing Hangman towards the furious man with a smirk.

“Don’t worry, I’m getting it on video!” Fanboy called after him as he trudged forwards with a nervous gulp, sweat already forming on his brow.

“We’ll play it at your funeral!” Payback added and the whole group laughed as Hangman walked towards his doom, one step at a time.

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