#inbox: 1.4k+

[taevayu]

☆★ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏── ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏@ ͏͏͏tae ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏: ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏  ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏🍓 ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ ͏％ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ᶻz

╰ ╮ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏  ͏͏͏⇾ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏  ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏📨 ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ﹒ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ 🥤 ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ﹒ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ 🎧 ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ﹒ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ 📁 ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏ ͏͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ꜝ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏₊ 

[drunkinyourbenz]

YOUR WRITING MADE ME SHIVER GIRL, YOU’RE INSANELY GOOD AT THIS OMGG

STOPPP THANK YOU GIRL THAT MEANS A LOT <333

[robbysreaders]

I had a thought for the ex!co-parent Jack story.

1) Did Jack get sad or upset when you dated Chris? Like I can picture Beau letting it slip that you had a movie date with Chris after pickup, and Jack just going what? 🥺 I can also see him having beers with Robby and Jack is just like ‘I’ve really lost her this time’ because he always held out hope that he could prove to you that he is worth a second chance.

2) Did Jack ever go on a date after you split? Or was it more of a I’ve lost the love of my life, and it wouldn’t be fair to any woman that tries to follow her since I am still in love with her.

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader word count: 1.4k notes: Part ? of ex!reader and babydaddy!jack i really need to update my masterlist and reconfigure my parts lol -- this is between the Prequel and Part 1! Thank you for this prompt in my inbox!!!! sorry it took me so long to get to! I mixed both together since i felt like the worked -- hope you enjoy!!!

The last thing you’re thinking about in the months after you and Jack officially split is dating.

You barely have time to fold the laundry, let alone entertain the idea of starting over. Your kid is growing at lightspeed. You’re juggling a full-time job. Jack—while frustrating in a hundred little ways—has always been a reliable co-parent. From the moment you separated, he never missed a pickup or check-in. He’s there when he says he’ll be. That’s more than a lot of people can say.

Still, the whole thing stings because Jack makes single parenting look easy. Natural. Like he was always meant to do it on his own.

And you? You’re exhausted. Every time you scroll instagram and see someone posting a date night selfie, you close the app. Not because you miss dating, but because you miss being someone who wasn’t running on fumes.

You would never admit it, but sometimes it feels like Jack is happier co-parenting with you than he ever was being with you.

But the truth is… he’s not. Jack’s a fucking wreck.

He’s throwing himself into hospital shifts like he’s allergic to free time, offering advice to  every resident who so much as breathes in his direction, and texting Robby at 2 a.m. on his days off just to talk about the latest ER policy update. He’s working himself into the ground because he still thinks this is temporary. That if he can prove to you he’s changed—if he cooks enough dinners and shows up to enough pediatrician appointments and keeps the fridge stocked with the yogurt tubes Beau likes—you’ll come back.

Three months. That’s what he gave it.

Three months for you to get it out of your system. The space. The clarity. The breathing room.

Then, month four hits. And Jack starts to unravel.

Robby finds him on the roof after handoff, leaning against the rail like it might hold all the weight in his chest.

“Haven’t seen you up here in a while,” Robby says casually.

Jack doesn’t look up. “You forget this was my spot first.”

Robby nods. Waits. “Tough shift?”

“Tough life.” Jack quips.

“Was waiting for that shoe to drop.”

Jack drags his hands down his face. “I had a plan. Thought I could show her I’d changed. I’m cooking. I’m present. I’ve read five goddamn parenting books. And she still barely looks at me like I’m anything more than a—”

“Co-pilot?” Robby finishes.

Jack nods. Miserable.

“I think I really lost her.”

Robby claps a hand on his shoulder. “Go home. Sleep. Do not come back tonight. I’ll get you coverage. And when i’m off tonight I’m dragging your ass out for a beer.”

Jack gets to their usual dive bar by 7:45, already knowing Robby would show up at his front door if he didn’t.

“You know,” Robby says when he sees him, “I was fully prepared to have to break in.”

Jack shrugs. “What can I say? The love of my life left me and I’ve matured.”

“This is worse than I thought.”

Jack grunts into his beer. “She was, though. Still is.”

Robby sighs. “Brother, you gotta snap out of it. She’s made her choice. You gave her space. You figured out a routine that works for Beau. Now you gotta figure out what works for you.”

“This is working for me.”

“Running yourself ragged and using your kid as an emotional flotation device? Sounds sustainable.”

Jack shoots him a look.

“I’m not saying you gotta run off an marry some girl from an app or whatever,” Robby says. “Just… reevaluate. Figure out what fills your cup. Hell, maybe even go get your rocks off now and then.”

Jack flings a fry at Robby.

Robby grins. “Just saying. A good orgasm never hurt anyone.”

“Alright enough about my dumpster fire of a life” Jack shifts. “Now i get to psychoanalyse you.“

The next day, Dana corners Jack by the trauma board. Jack could kill Robby.

“I have this friend,” she says. “Amy. Divorced last year. Bit of a rut. Not looking for anything serious, just trying to get back out there. Hasn’t dated in over a decade and I told her I knew just the guy.”

“No.”

“She has your number. I told her to wait a couple days before texting you. You’re welcome.”

Jack groans, but two days later, the text comes.

Amy is… fine. They go out a few times. She’s smart, warm, has a killer laugh. But there's no pull. No spark.

Eventually, they both admit it.

“Jack,” she says over tapas one night, “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. But I don’t want to do this just to do it. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” Jack says, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re great and if you ever need someone to beat up your ex, you know where to find me.”

Amy smiles. “You’re gonna find your forever, Jack. I think you already have. She just needs more time.”

Jack starts therapy.

One of his Army buddies had given him some resources a while back, but it’s Dana’s offhand comments about “emotional constipation” that finally gets him to make the call.

It helps. Not all at once, but piece by piece.

He starts saying no to extra shifts. Makes room for sleep. Finds himself laughing more when Beau does something ridiculous—like trying to microwave a fruit snack “because it was cold.”

And when Beau mentions a guy named Chris for the third time, Jack doesn’t spiral. He breathes. Notes it. And waits for the right moment to ask.

Jack’s cooking dinner at his place, your typical handoff routine. Beau is sprawled on the floor with a cartoon, crayons everywhere. Jack pulls the roasted veggies from the oven.

“Never thought you’d be a regular Martha Stewart, but I could get used to this”

He chuckles “It’s just one of those meal delivery things. I got a month free from Ellis for my secret santa and just stuck with it – made a joke that Beau and I couldn’t survive on MREs.”

“Beau talks about how much he likes your food so it must be working”

“Hey… before we eat,” he says, awkward, “Beau’s mentioned someone a few times. Chris. And that’s totally fine. I just thought maybe we could talk about giving each other a heads-up before introducing new people to him.”

You freeze, hand stilling over the plates. “Shit.”

“It’s okay...really. I don’t need details. Just a heads-up next time would help.”

“No, you’re right,” you say quickly, and Jack actually blinks like he wasn’t expecting that. “Jack, I’m sorry.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. Not unkind—just surprised. Like he’s trying to remember the last time you admitted fault without a qualifier.

“It all just got a little muddled,” you continue, rubbing the back of your neck. “He’s the dad of one of the kids in Beau’s music class. Recently divorced. Having a hard time keeping his kid entertained on his off days, so I offered up a few playdates. That’s the only time he’s really been around Beau.”

Jack nods slowly. “So you’re dating this guy?”

You exhale through your nose. “We went on a couple dates, yeah. But it fizzled out a few weeks ago. Nothing serious. Beau might still bring him up—playdates for the boys are still happening—but I promise I’ll keep you in the loop moving forward. It’s only fair.”

“I appreciate that,” Jack says, voice low, steady.

He lets out a breath then, like some invisible pressure just eased off his chest.

You hesitate, fiddling with the corner of the napkin on the table. “Any updates on your end? Your love life?”

Jack smirks, eyes twinkling. “What happens between my hand and the shower drain is strictly between me and God, thank you very much.”

You bark out a laugh, caught off guard. “I really struggle to believe that a hot doctor DILF can’t find someone willing to help him take the edge off.”

His face turns bright red. “Well, contrary to popular belief, I’m not exactly rolling in spare time. I’m busy co-parenting the best kid ever, saving lives four nights a week minimum, and publishing in not one but two medical journals—practically in the running for a Nobel Prize.”

You raise a brow. “Oh, is that all?”

He grins. “I keep a full calendar.”

Before you can volley back, a small voice cuts in from the living room.

“Dad, I’m hungry.”

“Hi Hungry, I’m Dad,” he says with a straight face, setting the serving dishes down on the table like he’s done it a hundred times.

You shake your head, smile tugging at your lips.

Same old Jack. Still infuriating. Still too charming for his own good.

[joaeriz]

you should write uconn!azzi surprising wnba!paige after one of her games!

📎 you always find me

🏷 pairing: azzi fudd x paige bueckers (uconn!azzi / wnba!paige)

📝 summary: after weeks apart, azzi surprises paige after one of her games — and reminds her what home really feels like.

⚠️ warnings: heavy fluff, minor angst (loneliness mentions), kissing, sleep cuddles, domestic softness, food mentions, extreme sapphiness, general yearning vibes (THE MOST FLUFFIEST FLUFF EVER)

📎 word count: ~1.4K

🧸 author’s note: hi anon! i love u for this req. this one made me so emotional to write because i love the thought of azzi being the kind of person who would fly across the country just to make sure paige feels loved 🥺😭 this is just full of hugs, soft kisses, and them being each other’s safe place. pls let me know if you liked it!!! my inbox is always open for screaming about them 💌💌

The late March air outside the Dallas arena was heavy and warm, the city humming under a velvet sky. Inside, the stadium buzzed with fading energy, fans lingering by the court to get one last glimpse of the night's stars.

Paige Bueckers barely registered any of it.

The game was a blur behind her — the points, the assists, even the standing ovation she got after a no-look pass that made the highlight reel. She smiled, she waved, she answered reporters’ questions like she was supposed to. It was automatic now — a mask she slipped on and off depending on who was watching.

But inside, she was lonely.

Bone-deep lonely.

The kind that made her chest feel hollow no matter how loud the crowd screamed her name.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her life — the WNBA had always been the dream. She loved the grind, the speed, the stage of it all. She loved her team, her coaches, the fans. She even loved Dallas, most days.

But none of it was enough when she went home at night to a cold, empty apartment.

Home.

That word barely meant anything without Azzi.

God, she missed her.

She missed her laugh, the one that bubbled up from her chest and made Paige feel weightless. She missed the smell of her shampoo. She missed the way Azzi would curl into her side, stealing all the covers, mumbling nonsense in her sleep.

She missed having someone to come home to.

And tonight, after another long game, another exhausting performance, she felt the ache sharper than ever.

Paige trudged off the court, towel slung around her neck, ignoring the lingering flashes of cameras. She just wanted to shower, crawl into bed, and maybe FaceTime Azzi until she passed out.

She wasn’t ready for what was waiting just around the corner.

Paige slowed instinctively as she rounded the hallway into the players' tunnel. Something — she didn’t know what — made her glance up.

And froze.

There, leaning against the wall in her beat-up sneakers and her UConn hoodie, clutching a bouquet of half-crushed sunflowers, was Azzi Fudd.

Paige’s brain short-circuited.

It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real.

Azzi.

Her Azzi.

Her best friend, her favorite person, the girl who still showed up in every one of Paige's dreams no matter how far apart they were.

Azzi’s eyes found hers across the distance — wide, shining, nervous — and for a second, neither of them moved.

Paige’s heart slammed against her ribs, wild and desperate.

And then she ran.

The gym bag hit the ground with a heavy thud as she sprinted across the hallway, crashing into Azzi with so much force that the flowers went flying.

Azzi let out a soft "oof," but she caught her easily, wrapping her arms around Paige like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment.

Paige buried her face in the curve of Azzi’s neck, breathing her in — warm skin, vanilla shampoo, the faintest trace of airplane air. It was so Azzi it hurt.

"I thought I was dreaming," Paige whispered, voice breaking.

Azzi laughed, shaky and close to tears. "I’m really here."

Paige pulled back enough to see her face — flushed cheeks, shining eyes, that perfect crooked smile.

She cupped Azzi’s cheeks in her hands, thumbing away a tear she didn’t realize she was crying. "You didn’t tell me."

Azzi shrugged, ducking her head, suddenly shy. "I wanted to surprise you. We got a break after the tournament, so... I booked a flight. Almost missed my connection. The Uber driver almost killed me on the freeway. But—" She smiled, tilting her head. "Worth it."

Paige laughed wetly, the sound half-sob, half-joy. She shook her head, overwhelmed, and leaned in.

Their kiss was slow and tender, a thousand I-missed-yous poured into a single touch. Azzi melted into her like she always did, like they were two pieces of the same whole finally slotting back together.

Around them, the stadium noise faded into a distant hum. It was just them. It had always been just them.

They barely made it back to Paige’s car, hands tangled together like lifelines.

The drive to her apartment was a series of stolen glances and half-finished sentences. Paige kept reaching over to brush her fingers against Azzi’s thigh, like she couldn’t bear not touching her.

Azzi was still in her travel clothes — oversized hoodie, leggings, hair messily knotted — and Paige thought she looked like the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

"You’re really here," Paige whispered again at a red light.

Azzi smiled at her, sleepy and radiant. "I’m really here."

Paige wanted to cry all over again.

Inside the apartment, Paige dropped everything at the door.

Azzi wandered through the small space, taking it all in — the framed photos of Paige’s first WNBA season, the pair of sneakers abandoned by the couch, the lone sunflower stuck into a water glass on the kitchen counter.

Paige stood in the doorway, watching her nervously.

"It’s not much," she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

Azzi turned around, her smile soft. "It’s perfect. It’s yours."

Paige crossed the room in three steps and kissed her again, fierce and grateful and aching all at once.

They stumbled to the couch, laughing breathlessly. Azzi straddled Paige’s lap, her hands bracketing her face, her forehead pressed to Paige’s.

"I missed you so much it physically hurt," Paige whispered.

Azzi nodded, eyes glassy. "Me too."

They stayed there for a long time, tangled together, whispering nonsense and trading kisses so soft they barely felt like touches.

Paige traced lazy patterns on Azzi’s back, feeling the way her breathing slowed, the way she relaxed fully for the first time in months.

At some point, they drifted into the bedroom, barely managing to peel off their hoodies and jeans before collapsing onto the bed, wrapped around each other like ivy.

Paige fell asleep with her nose buried in Azzi’s hair, Azzi’s fingers tangled with hers under the covers.

She woke up to sunlight streaming through the windows, birds chattering somewhere outside.

And Azzi.

Still there.

Still real.

Paige watched her sleep for a long time, memorizing every little detail — the way her nose scrunched slightly, the faint smudges of eyeliner still clinging to her lashes, the slow, even rise and fall of her chest.

Azzi shifted, mumbling something incoherent, and tucked herself closer to Paige’s side, throwing a leg over her hip.

Paige smiled so wide her face hurt.

Eventually, Azzi blinked awake, bleary-eyed and adorable.

"Mornin’," she mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

Paige kissed her forehead. "Best morning ever."

Azzi giggled and buried her face in Paige’s neck. "You’re clingy."

"You showed up across the country," Paige said. "You’re stuck with clingy."

Azzi just smiled, pressing a sleepy kiss to her collarbone.

They stayed like that for a while, cocooned in each other, until Paige’s stomach growled loudly enough to make Azzi snort with laughter.

"Food?" Azzi offered, grinning.

Paige groaned. "I don’t wanna move."

"I’ll cook," Azzi teased. "You just sit there and look pretty."

Paige perked up instantly. "Marry me?"

Azzi laughed, shoving her playfully before dragging herself out of bed.

Paige watched her pad into the kitchen, stealing one of her oversized shirts to wear, her hair a sleepy halo around her head.

And for the first time in months — maybe longer — Paige felt whole.

Not because of the wins or the trophies or the fans.

Because of this.

Because Azzi had found her, across miles and airports and chaos, and she wasn’t letting go.

Paige grabbed her phone and snapped a quick, blurry picture of Azzi at the stove, flipping pancakes with her tongue sticking out in concentration.

My favorite view, she captioned it, sending it to Azzi with a heart emoji.

Azzi looked up, caught her, and winked.

Paige laughed out loud, heart so full she thought it might burst.

She didn’t know where the season would take her. She didn’t know what challenges were waiting. But right now — messy apartment, burnt pancakes, sunflowers wilting in a glass on the counter — this was home.

This was everything.

And she wasn’t letting it go.

Not now.

Not ever.

[welostheplot]

── 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 ᨒ↟☾.࿔*:･ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: vampire!ellie williams / werewolf!abby anderson / reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you didn’t expect much when your mom sent you to jackson to stay with your dad. but something about this place is off — and you’ve only just arrived.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: no major warnings needed here! just regular old world building introductory stuff.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.4k

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: i'm new to this whole publishing fics on tumblr thing but this idea came to me after rewatching all the twilight movies for like the billionth time and i knew i had to bring it to life. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as im going to enjoy writing it!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: "crossing"

THE PLANE LANDING HAD BEEN ROUGHER THAN IT SHOULD’VE BEEN.

if your mom had been there, you would’ve joked with her about how it was like even the sky wanted nothing to do with the place. the runway was cracked and frostbitten, and the first sight of the vast mountains behind it made your breath catch. you found your dad waiting by his cop car after you finally collected your luggage from baggage claim and stepped outside to the curbside pickup area, arms crossed over his jacket like he wasn’t sure what to say.

he didn’t hug you or even say hello. just jerked his chin in a greeting and asked, “you hungry?”

you said yeah, even though you weren’t.

the diner had smelled like burnt coffee and some teenage waitress poured you both a cup without being asked. you ordered something with eggs and didn’t eat it, entertaining stilted conversation with your dad about the weather. and roadkill. and these mysterious murders that had been popping up in nearby towns, putting his whole office on edge.

now, inside your new room, you sat on the bed and tried not to think about the fact that he hadn’t asked anything about school. or therapy. or how long you planned on staying.

you got the sense he was still working up to it.

you twisted a loose thread on the duvet (“purple. your favorite,” your dad had said — you didn’t have the heart to tell him it had changed to blue approximately four years ago) and tried to breathe through the dust in the air.

a knock on the door frame broke the quiet and you looked up to see him standing there, holding a stack of towels and a box of saltines.

you raised a brow.

he shrugged. “dinner won’t be ready for a while. and you barely touched your breakfast burrito earlier.”

you took the box.

“thanks,” you said.

he lingered in the doorway a second too long. like he wanted to say something. like he almost did.

then turned and walked away.

THE HOUSE CREAKED AT NIGHT.

not in a cozy, “it has personality” kind of way. no, these were the kind of noises that made your skin itch. you lay in bed that first night, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how long it’d take for this place to feel real. or maybe not real. just… normal. your phone screen burned your eyes in the dark of the room and your text inbox was void of any new messages. you scrolled through it anyway.

in the morning, your dad left a note on the counter: back by 4. grocery money in drawer. don’t forget to eat.

you made toast. burned the first slice. turned the radio on just to hear something human while the second cooked in the toaster. humming distantly along to the familiar tune crackling through the speakers, you stood in the small kitchen and wished the space felt familiar too.

your mom said this would be good. her new boyfriend had old money and a young soul that had immediately captivated her, and their plans of roadtripping around the country didn’t exactly provide the stability or consistency a teenager looking to graduate high school would need.

but jackson felt different than how it had when you’d visited as a kid.

it was quiet, but not in a peaceful way. the silence was tense. and the trees—there were so many fucking trees, covering the mountains and making the natural ‘walls’ that protected the valley feel so much grander, despite the fact that you were definitely much taller than you had been the last time you were here.

your dad had warned you not to wander too far when he’d caught you gazing at them through the window of the passenger seat.

“it’s not like other woods,” he’d said.

you asked what that meant.

he just replied, “stay near the paths.”

THE TRUCK HAD BEEN A WELCOME SURPRISE.

your dad said it so casually, like he was just handing you another box of saltines to hold you over till lunch and not a literal vehicle.

“someone owed me a favor,” he muttered, nodding toward the driveway.

you stepped outside, expecting something functional. you did not anticipate the massive, rust-colored tank parked at the curb. the thing looked like it had been built during the cold war and maybe won it.

the paint was chipped. the tires looked new-ish. and the driver's door groaned in protest when you pulled it open.

“does it work?” you asked.

“like a dream,” said a voice behind you, unfamiliar, low, and a little amused.

you turned and came face to face with a girl with hulking shoulders and sun-kissed confidence that made you feel like you’d never stepped outside in your life. she was in a worn flannel, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and she smelled faintly of motor oil.

“abby,” she said, sticking out a hand. “i fixed it up for you.”

you shook it. a vein in her forearm bulged with her firm grip, and your stomach swooped. “thanks,” you said. “it’s… big.”

she grinned. “what else are childhood friends for?”

your dad raised an eyebrow from the porch but didn’t say anything.

THE LOUD RUMBLE OF THE ENGINE WOULD TAKE SOME GETTING USED TO.

but you were grateful it got you where you needed to go.

that afternoon, it got you to the gas station at the edge of town. the only one for miles, according to abby, who’d shown up again that morning with an excuse about how she was “just checking the alignment.”

you weren’t complaining.

she’d offered to ride with you for the first outing — “just in case the brakes do something stupid,” she’d said — and now she was outside the truck, sleeves rolled up again showing off those stupidly large muscles, pumping your gas while you sat in the driver’s seat trying not to stare.

she glanced through the window and caught you watching. smirked.

you looked away with hot cheeks and cranked the window down a few inches.

“you want anything?” she asked, nodding toward the station’s small convenience store.

“i’m good,” you said. then hesitated, thinking about your father’s abysmal grocery haul from the other day (grocery shopping for another person in the house was clearly going to take him some getting used to). “maybe just… something cold? and some chips. i’m not picky.”

“on it.”

you watched her jog toward the store. cracked your knuckles. adjusted the rearview mirror. tried not to look like you were spiraling over the girl you apparently used to make mud pies with in your backyard when you were three.

and then —

movement.

you turned your head toward it. across the lot, leaning against a dusty black SUV parked under the shade of a tilted pine, stood a cluster of people you hadn’t noticed, probably because you’d been too busy ogling your new… friend.

five of them.

they weren’t looking at you, but somehow, you felt seen anyway.

your eyes caught on one in particular.

freckled. lean. and pale.

your chest tightened.

you blinked and there was abby again, approaching with a bag of lays and a bottle of gatorade clutched in one large hand and a twizzler hanging from her mouth.

“you good?” she asked.

you nodded too fast.

“yeah,” you said. “just… thought i saw someone.”

she followed your gaze.

the SUV was still there. the people weren’t.

must’ve gone into the convenience store, you supposed.

“who?”

you shook your head. “never mind.”

but your eyes lingered on the empty space where they’d stood.

SOME THINGS DIDN’T FEEL LIKE COINCIDENCE.

you didn’t believe in fate. you barely believed in astrology. but there was something about jackson that scratched at the edges of your instincts. you didn’t have any proof quite yet, just the weight of it. that gnawing, too-aware feeling you couldn’t shake.

your dad’s unease. the headlines in the newspaper. the eerie feeling you got looking at the woods.

and now them. the group at the gas station. the way the freckled one had looked without looking at you.

the way you’d felt it.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. that starting over meant letting things be what they were, not chasing after the weirdness or wondering what wasn’t being said.

but ever since you crossed the border into this town, it felt like you were being met with a decision of whether to engage in a story much bigger than you.

and you hadn’t realized you were already standing right at the threshold.

this work is mine. please don’t repost, copy, or publish elsewhere without permission. thank you!

[formulakracing]

leap of faith — t.w.

pairing -> student intern!reader x toto wolff

word count -> 1.4k

warnings -> slow burn, cursing, mentions of marijuana/drug use, power imbalance, boss x employee dynamic, smut, alcohol use, mentions of alcohol use, yearning (big time), overall mature themes

a/n -> here we are. chapter two. i apologize if this is nothing like the internship at mercedes. my bad if this chapter drags a little! i hope you guys enjoy! <3

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december 1st, 2024

"oh my god."

"what?"

"i-i just checked my inbox. i got an email from mercedes."

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your best friend, iris, arches a brow, leaning forward, "what did they say? did you get in? have you opened it yet? i wanna see—"

shaking your head, you scoot over in the booth, waving a hand, "not yet. come over here and we can read it together."

with no hesitation, iris springs to her feet, eagerly sliding in beside you, "fuck, my heart is racing. open it, open it, open it!"

"okay, okay," a giggle bubbles up in your throat, fingers gliding across the touchpad, "i'm pulling it up now."

clicking on the mail tab, your inbox loads, a plethora of emails appearing. since the email you used for the application was your university email, you had to dig through your spam folder to locate the message. moving the email to your inbox, you inhale a sharp breath.

"here goes nothing."

tapping on the message, you heart races, blood roaring in your ears.

you barely make it through the text before your jaw goes slack.

it is with great pleasure that we offer you an apprenticeship with our filming and editing team!

please respond to this email by december 15th, 2024, if you accept our offer.

welcome to the merecedes amg petronas family! we hope to hear from you soon!

letting out a squeal, iris wraps you in her embrace, pulling you in close, "congratulations! i am so fucking proud of you! you made it! you got in!"

"h-how?" you sputter, the shock dissolving by the second, "h-how did i make it in? surely it has to be some sort of—"

iris rolls her eyes, tutting as she puts a finger to your lips, "ah ah, none of that! you made it in, and that's that. from this moment on, there will be no second guessing or self-doubt."

"w-what am i going to tell my parents?"

her brow furrows, head tilting ever so slightly, "um — that you're going to be moving away to pursue your dream career? it's not rocket science babe."

at that, you can't help but laugh, "iris, you of all people know that's not going to fly. the first thing they're going to do is ask a thousand questions. then they're going to plant every seed of self-doubt into my mind so that i second guess myself and decline the offer."

"hmmm," she hums, drumming her fingers on the table, "what if you just didn't tell them until the day of your flight? what they don't know won't hurt them."

"iris," your eyes widen, lips parting, "i can't just hide this from my parents! this is way too big of a secret to be kept between the two of us—"

"but look at it this way," she interjects, "if you call them the second you get back home, they're going to shut it down. you'll end up declining the internship, just so that they'll be happy.

sure, they'll have you around for the holidays. your boyfriend will like having you at home during break. however, you won't be happy. i know you. you're going to mope around for the rest of your life, wishing you would have accepted that offer.

i just want my best friend to be happy. i want you to do what makes you feel alive. i want to see you smile again. if going halfway across the world and filming fast cars is what makes you happy, i support it one thousand percent. and who knows? you might meet a hot european man while you're there and end up marrying him."

i want you to do what makes you feel alive.

and formula one was just that. it's what kept that spark ablaze deep within your soul.

the torrent that swept through you during race day was indescribable. it was a high that you were constantly chasing. and in your heart, you knew that watching from a screen would never be enough. the hours poured into edits and compilations would never satisfy that hunger. the views, likes, and reposts would not fill that void.

the only way you would ever be satisfied is if you were at a grand prix, camera in hand, filming every exhilarating second.

fuck, was iris right.

the one time you put yourself first, you managed to secure the internship of a lifetime. you weren't sure how, but you made it, and that's all that mattered.

your happiness is what mattered. fuck what your parents thought. fuck what your boyfriend had to say. fuck all of things they would say in order to hold you back. that's all they were going to do anyway.

everyone and everything in this town was going to only hold you back.

well, not quite everyone. there was one exception.

"iris, if i accepted this offer, would you come with me?"

december 15th, 2024

"please, natalia, i'm having a shit day. if it's anything to do with the—"

"it's about little lamb, sir."

"come in."

dipping her head, the assistant strides in, folder in hand. placing it on his desk, she crosses over to the door, pulling it closed, "should i lock it, sir?"

"no need," he tuts, "does lewis know?"

"not yet, sir. we just received word that she accepted the offer."

"good," swiping a tongue along his lower lip, his eyes scan over the first page, "when is she expected to start, natalia?"

"little lamb has orientation on january sixth, like the rest of the apprentices. she flies in on a thursday, i believe. it might be the second or third. i'm not entirely sure, sir."

toto wolff, team principal of mercedes amg petronas hums, flipping through the pristine pile of papers before him, "how long is orientation?"

natalia clicks her tongue, firing a rapid response, "orientation is approximately a two week process. the first week is about the basics of the apprenticeship. the second week is a lot of coursework. the apprentices attend a series of classes that are more specific to their program. the soonest we could pull her out is january twentieth. would you like for me to send an email to her orientation leaders?"

"we will wait until we have confirmation she's made it brackley. thank you for the update, natalia. i appreciate your hard work."

at that, his assistant beams, straightening in her seat, "of course, sir. is there anything you would like for me to do in the meantime?"

"do you have her social media accounts?"

"they're already in her file. i highlighted them for you."

"atta girl," the team principal shoots natalia a wink, "i will let you know when it is time to hunt down our little lamb. have a good evening, natalia. thank you again."

"of course, sir."

dipping her head, natalia rises to her feet, promptly exiting the room. the moment he hears that click, he reaches for his phone, his thumbs a flurry as he types in her username.

you see, toto wolff was fixated on this particular apprentice.

was it a little insane? yeah.

did it violate a few ethical principles? sure. would it raise a few eyebrows? of course it would. would there be a few human resource violations? maybe.

nothing that he couldn't handle.

besides, the girl knew how to reel you in.

the storytelling throughout her media was compelling. she captured the essence of motorsports in a way that toto had never seen before. with over thousands upon thousands of followers across three acounts, she was gaining some notoriety among the formula one community. she even had a couple of sponsorship deals. drivers would like her posts, some even going as far to repost the clips.

in fact, lewis was the one who introduced her to toto.

one rainy morning in brazil, toto peered over lewis' shoulder to see that he was deeply invested in his phone, scrolling every so often. from what toto could see, lewis was looking at someone's instagram. or was it tik tok? toto couldn't keep up.

"what are you looking at?"

"nosy are we?" a smooth chuckle flowed from the british driver's lips, "to answer your query, i'm just taking a look at this girl's account. she makes edits. at least, i think that's what they're called. don't quote me on that."

"and what does she post edits of?"

"formula one."

"what is so special about her 'edits'?"

however, the british driver did not answer. instead, he placed the phone into toto's hands, giving him a slight nod. almost as if he was prompting him to take a peek.

"what's so special about them? take a look and see for yourself. then you'll know."

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taglist -> @the-secret-formulaone @gmfj6 @ssarqhxo @ravyn94

thanks for reading! if you would like to be tagged, just comment down below! <3

[hederasgarden]

Something Better

Summary: A chance encounter with your academic rival reminds you there's more to life than looks. Pairing: Scott Miller (Twisters) x F!Plus Size!Reader Word Count: 1.4K  Rating: Mature, 18+ only. College AU. Light angst, body insecurity, heavy petting and kissing.  A/N: For my dearest @clairewritesandrambles based on this ask. Thank you @ryebecca for the beta. Turns out I'm terrible at sticking to the 100 word prompts. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

It’s a struggle to escape the press of bodies on the dance floor, the pounding bass thrumming uncomfortably in your chest. You wipe angrily at your face, jaw clenched as you fight to keep the tears at bay. No one seems to notice — everyone is too drunk or high. You could find your friends, but beneath the desire for comfort is the sharp, burning sting of shame. 

You should have known better than to trust Tyler Owens. 

All those sweet words and flirtatious smiles were meaningless to him. In the end, you were just another notch in his belt and the worst part is, that you have no one to blame but yourself. Everyone knew he wasn’t the type for commitment, but you were blinded by his charm and the way his deep green eyes made you feel beautiful. He said you were special and you were just stupid enough to believe him.

Escaping into the cool night air brings you a brief moment of relief. You close your eyes and tilt your head back. 

"Where’s the cowboy?"

The unexpected voice makes you flinch. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Only one person ever called Tyler Owens a cowboy.

"Not now, Scott." 

Usually, you didn’t mind going toe-to-toe with him, enjoying the opportunity to match wits with someone as sharp as Scott. Tonight, though, you’re exhausted, and he’s the last person you want to show any weakness to. In class, he was quick to exploit any hint of vulnerability in an opponent.

"Is that all you’ve got?" he taunts. "Spending time with Owens must have really lowered your IQ."

You bite your tongue, curling your hand into a fist. You can’t handle this right now. You can't handle him.

"Just...go away." Despite your best efforts, your voice betrays how you feel — strained and fragile.

He doesn’t listen, of course, the gravel crunching under his feet as he approaches. Your shoulders slump, and a fresh wave of tears escapes. You stare at the ground and wait for the cutting remark Scott's sure to deliver when he sees you like this. When nothing comes, you hesitantly look up, meeting his cool blue gaze. You’re surprised to see a soft furrow between his brows. He almost looks…concerned.

"You're crying." 

It's such an obvious statement from him that you laugh, but it comes out more as a sob and you press the back of your hand to your mouth. Scott steps forward, making an abortive gesture like he means to touch you but thought better of it. He looks past you, the soft curve of his lips tightening into a sharp, displeased line. Then his gaze cuts back to you. 

"Did Tyler do something?" He asks. 

You shake your head. The truth is, you hurt yourself by thinking someone like Tyler would ever want to date you. Why would he, when he had Kate Carter on his arm? She looked beautiful tonight, her honey blond hair curling softly around her delicate features. She was slender and striking in a way you'd never be. She’d be easy to hate if she wasn't so kind and smart.

"He did something," Scott presses.

Just then, the door swings open, and a group of people spills out into the night. A few of them look over, and you’re quick to turn away, hunching your shoulders in embarrassment. It’s bad enough that Scott saw you like this; you don’t need anyone else witnessing it.

Beside you, Scott lets out a sharp huff, his breath escaping through his nose in a rush. Without a word, he grabs you, his long fingers wrapping firmly around your bicep. He pulls you effortlessly to the side of the building, out of view. 

“Sometime happened. You never shut up, and now you’re just…” He trails off, using his free hand to gesture irritably.

You shrug out of his hold and wrap an arm around your middle. You try to steady your voice, but it quivers when you whisper, "It's nothing."  

“Oh, I see,” he responds coolly. “You think you’re better than everyone now because you’re dating the star football player.”

Scott’s accusation is so far off the mark it’s almost laughable, and on any other day, you’d relish the chance to set him straight. But right now, all you want is to disappear.

“Typical,” he mutters. 

A sudden burst of anger flares under your ribcage and you surge forward, jabbing a finger hard into his chest. You’re so close your body brushes his but you don’t care. 

“You want to know what happened?” you ask. “We slept together, but the second someone skinnier and prettier showed up, he acted like I didn’t even exist. And honestly, I can’t even blame him," you continue with a bitter laugh. "Just look at Kate Carter.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth and you realize what you’ve just admitted, you shrink back against the brick wall, feeling exposed. Scott rolls his eyes, and you tense up, bracing yourself for whatever he is about to say. 

"Kate Carter isn't as smart as us," he says dismissively. "She's a fucking bio major. You think she even took differential equations?”

Of course he didn’t get it. People like Scott and Tyler moved through the world differently than you. “No one’s looking at her transcript  She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, and so are you.”

You freeze and the unexpected compliment hangs in the air between you as you search his expression for any trace of sarcasm. Scott stares steadily back at you and something in your stomach flutters to life, sweeping up your chest in a hot rush. 

“Scott…”

“Don’t make this a thing,” he says quietly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not a thing.”

He dips his head and then suddenly, he’s kissing you, those soft, plump lips of his sliding against yours almost sweetly. You clutch the front of his sweater, tilting your head back until your nose brushes against his. A quiet moan builds at the back of your throat and Scott surges forward, caging you in between his body and the wall. The rough brick catches against the soft skin of your shoulder but you don’t care, not with the way he’s kissing you.

“Gonna let me in?” he whispers.

Without hesitation, you part your lips, welcoming him into the wet heat of your mouth. He groans in response, grasping your hips. He kisses just like he argues with you in the classroom — relentless in his pursuit, overwhelming you in the best way possible until you yield. This time you want him to win, but you can’t resist trying to outdo him. You draw his lower lip between your teeth and bite down until he grunts.

“Fuck,” he pants, his hands sweeping up and down your sides. 

You cant your hips forward and he grabs the back of your thigh, grinding into you.

“I’m going to take you home,” he promises, mouthing at the side of your neck. "Then I’m going to fuck you until you forget that asshole's name.”

You shudder, freeing one of your hands trapped between your bodies and burying it in his thick black curls. A light tug has him nipping at the soft skin of your throat. Everything about him feels so good. It would be easy to lose yourself to this, to him, but you pull back, blinking away the haze of lust. You refuse to repeat your mistake with Tyler. 

“What happens after?” You ask him, breathless. 

Scott blinks, running his tongue over his swollen bottom lip. “After?”

“After we, you know….” That little shadow appears between his brows again. You shift uncomfortably, drawing back. “With Tyler…after, he—”

“We date,” Scott interrupts.

Maybe it’s the kiss or the whirlwind of emotions you’ve experienced tonight, but for the first time, you're at a loss for words with Scott.

“Date?” You repeat dumbly.

“Yes.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing. “Do you require the definition of the word?” He looks half annoyed now, staring down his nose at you. “If you can’t keep up, I’m not sure we can do this.”

“Do what?” 

“Date,” he replies tersely. “You know, you’re killing the mood here.”

“Well,” you sputter, “it’s not my fault you’re a poor communicator.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “This was better when we weren’t talking.”

“Agreed,” you fire back.

“So it’s settled.”

When you nod, Scott grasps your hand and tugs you forward. His long legs make it difficult to keep up but after a few seconds, he seems to notice and adjusts his pace to match yours. He casts a brief glance at you and you see a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if his lips were about to part but he thought better of it. 

“What?” You ask, amused.

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Just as long as you’re not making this a thing.”

Scott lets out a small, exasperated sigh and turns away, but not before you catch the smile tugging at his lips.

Send me a request

[wonderlandwalker]

First impressions | Eddie Munson x reader

stranger things masterlist / inbox summary: Eddie learns that Dustin has a recently reunited sister, and from the moment he meets you he's a goner.

word count: 1.4k

tags / content warning: pure fluff, henderson!reader, tiny mention of a fight but nothing descriptive, not edited, no use of y/n

a/n: Eddie brain rot cause I couldn't keep it in. Don't know if this is my best work but I'm planning to write more chapters on this so it's just a start, hope you like it

“You need a ride home after this?” It was more of a formality than an actual question, he always drove Dustin home after a session.

“Oh that’s okay, my sister is picking me up.” Dustin didn’t even look up from packing his things away, but Eddie’s head shot up.

“Your- you have a sister, since when?” As far as he knew Dustin was an only child, but now he was wrecking his brain trying to think if he had ever mentioned you before.

“I know you’re bad at math Eddie, but I just told you she’s driving so try and put the pieces together.” Dustin was looking up at him now, challenging him.

“Alright smartass, it’s time for you to shut up.” He told him as he ruffled through his hair, leaving behind an agitated Dustin trying frantically to fix it. 

The others had already gone home, but Dustin stayed behind late to help Eddie finish up, a habit that became more and more common as the two grew closer. When they finished packing up Eddie locked the door behind them, and while walking to the parking lot decided he wasn’t quite done interrogating Dustin.

“If you have an older sister, how come I've never seen her around before?”

“I mean she’s been around during holidays before, she lived with dad though but they had a big fight so she’s moved here.” It seemed like a sore topic, so Eddie dropped it for now.

As they got to the entrance of the school and felt the cool air on their skin Eddie indeed noticed another car in the usually empty lot, and you were sitting on the hood of it, a book in your hands as you patiently waited. The last rays of sunshine graced your figure as if the heavens themselves were blessing you, and Eddie had never been so sure he’d seena goddess in his life. It was just like the tales he knew so well, the ones he still devoted his life to, it was as if they were becoming true. You looked up when you heard them approach, smiling at the sight of them and giving Dustin a quick side hug as they reached you.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot of good things.” You held your hand out for Eddie to take, but all he could do was look at it, staring ahead as if hitting pause in a game, he stood still. He wanted to react, to not make the most horrible first impression possible, but the longer he looked at you the worse it got, getting lost in sight of your smile.

“Alright, not a fan of handshakes, noted.” You chuckled as you withdrew your hand, and Eddie cursed himself for not having taken the opportunity to feel how soft your skin must’ve been. You looked at him again, your eyes piercing straight through his soul and he wondered if maybe he had found himself in one of his fantasy worlds, he must have. But the next second he shook himself out of it, because you were real, you were real and in front of him and expecting him to say something.

“I’m Eddie.” he said, nodding his head as if to confirm his own statement.

“So I’ve been told.” Another giggle slipped past your lips, and Eddie wasnt sure if it was from nerves or entertainment, but he was dying to hear more of it, even if he had to make a fool of himself to do so.

Dustins head kept going back and forth as if watching a tennis match of idiocracy. He had never seen Eddie so flustered, so used to the man flaunting with every opportunity that presented itself that this seemed quite out of character. In full disclosure, it was kind of freaking him out to see Eddie so beside himself, and it was freaking him out even further that he couldn’t figure out why. It was probably blatantly obvious to anyone else, but maybe it was for the best that Dustin couldn’t place where the tension originated from, either way, his patience had run out

“Can we go home now, I still have to call Mike to discuss our net strategies” You tore your eyes from Eddie, deciding that maybe it was for the best to head home.

“Yeah alright, maybe I’ll see you around Eddie.” You gave him one last smile as you got in the car with Dustin and drove off, but it took him another minute to pick his shambled ego up from the concrete ground as he berated himself for not being able to utter one coherent sentence. As he got in his van and drove home as well he decided he’d have to grill Dustin for more information on you the next time he’d see him. As he got to the trailer he grumbled a hello to Wayne before disappearing to his room, ignoring the backhanded comment he got about his grumpy disposition. 

He wondered if he’d ever be able to convince you he was cool, whether he’d be able to get you to agree to see him again, but after what just transpired he figured the odds were slim. Not that he’d give up so easily, he didn’t have much of a reputation to lose and if he’d be able to get you to laugh again that would be more than enough. But he didn’t get to wonder for long as Wayne knocked on his door, he was ready to tell the man to leave him alone, but the next sentence was one that confused him immensely

“Someone on the phone for you.” Wayne held the phone out to him, expecting him to get up from the bed and take it, but Eddie didn’t move an inch.

“For me, you sure?” He was still not quite sure what to do.

“Unless another Eddie is living here I’m pretty sure.” He moved his hand again to accentuate the phone that was still on hold, but once again Eddie just sat there.

“If you want I can tell her to call back-” That’s when he sprung into action, snatching the phoen out of Wayne’s hand 

“No! No, I got it. Thank you.” The old man simply chuckled as he left again, closing the door behind him to give his nephew some privacy.

Eddie cleared his throat once before picking up the line put on hold. 

“Hello?” he asked, still not quite sure what to do.

“Hi, Eddie it’s me, just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” your sweet voice blessed his ears once more. He doesn’t know what he did to get the universe on his side like this, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

“Yeah I’m good, listen-” Eddie figured this time he shouldn’t waste his chance, and he probably had some making up to do.

“- I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier, just never seen anyone that pretty before.” You were giggling again, and it brought the biggest grin onto his face.

“You didn’t weird me out at all, it was kinda cute. I had to bribe Dustin to let me use the phone so I don’t have much time but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out this weekend?” Maybe he should’ve waited a beart before answering, but he was too eager to care.

“Go out, as in a date?” It got him blushing, the red creeping up on his cheeks as he wondered if that’s really what you were asking

“I mean, kinda, if you want to.” He could almost see you blushing on the other side of the line as well, and he decided it was now or never.

“I’d love to.” 

“That’s great, I’m still kind of new around here, do you know any good places?” Your smile was present as you spoke, and he was already looking forward to seeing it again, now knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“How about I come and pick you up, we can go to the mall.” His confidence was growing with the minute now, absolutely elated by the turn of events.

“Im looking forward to it” He wondered what you’d wear, knowing whatever it was it would look beautiful on you, and he knew he’d spend the entire date amazed at your presence. 

“Me too” he said before the both of you hung up the phone, he had already started planning the most amazing evening out, and maybe, he thought, maybe this year really would take a turn for the better.

[flw3rrr]

I love the idea of sevika with a retired brothel worker. Like they fell in love and sevika got her a job at the last drop or smth.

I also love the idea of mama sevika. I would love to give her a child 😭 so maybe domestic fluff around sevika her wife and their child. Lil' Families are my favorite thing

The bright side of things

Parings: Sevika x Retiredbrothelworker!reader

Warnings: Nothing major, Fluff, just full on FLUFF, No mentions of Y/n, and no description of reader. Sevika trying to seem tough around the kid, but fails. (100% let me know if anything is missed!)

Word count: 1.4k

Not proofread! sorry for any typos. I wrote this at like 2 am....oops

A/n: Thank you so much for this request. I loved this idea so much when I first read it, so I had to do this one immediately! 

(I have so many more amazing requests in my inbox, and I'll get to them soon! Thanks so much again for sending this, and I hope you enjoy it)

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

Ever since you retired from working at the brothel, life seemed more simple and comfortable. Sevika, who you met a few months ago before your retirement, had grown onto you. The way she carried herself whenever she would stride around the building made you burn inside a little.

It all got better when you were told you were booked for an hour. Dreading what kind of person you'd have to entertain or boost their ego to make them feel something, but with a big surprise when your face met with Sevika's, she was leaning back, legs spread open as a cigar sat on her lips. That's how everything started for the both of you.

Sevika offered you a job at the last drop when you first told her of your retirement; it got tiring and exhausting physically and mentally. Your heart melted at her offer and took it immediately. It's something you never in your life thought you would work at, but what can you expect? It's a way better job than working at a brothel, body sore and no break.

You always remember to thank her whenever possible; Sevika isn't the type to show affection in public, so you'd always kiss her on the cheek and lips as a way of thanking her. Sharing each sweet moment with one another in your new shared apartment. The undercity wasn't some fairytale place to grow up, but with her presence, it made you forget everything.

Sevika likes that you took her offer on working at the last drop. She now gets to keep an eye on you, especially when she plays poker, and in the quick moment whenever you'd hand her a drink, your eye's lock on hers every time you hand her the glass, a soft and sweet look. Of course her gaze locks in yours in return, but never softens; she can't let half of the undercity that she's practically on her knees for you.

And this is where the both of you are now, still together and head over heels for one another. The two of you sat on the couch that sat in the small living room; you held a sketchbook, drawing random doodles, never being the professional type, though. Sevika just watches you making a game of her own on trying to guess what you're making or stares very confusingly at it. Everything was quiet and calm until a thump was heard from one of the bedroom doors.

The sound of feet padding against the wooden floor became louder until a small girl appeared with a huge smile on her face. Immediately she decided to join the both of you on the couch, but rather than sit, she began to jump and speak very fast.

"Can I please, please, pleaseee come to work with you, Momma? I want to make drinks with you." Speaking so fast, neither you nor Sevika could comprehend a single word. Glancing at Sevika for a quick moment and back to the child before stopping her from jumping on the couch to avoid any possible injuries.

"Selani, remember what we both said about jumping on the couch? You could get hurt easily." Her smile dropped as she looked at Sevika, who spoke about 'the couch wasn't cheap.' Selani gave a nod in return before sitting herself down onto the couch. Both you and Sevika took Selani in after you both found her alone with nobody near; it broke your heart badly, and with not much nagging, you both quickly became her adoptive parents.

You could tell Sevika cared for her just as much as you did, catching moments between the both of them, Selani play fighting with Sevika, who obviously would go easy on the kid knowing her strength would accidentally crush or break a bone. Or whenever Sevika's arm needed to be repaired or a quick fix, Selani was standing right by her, being the best helper.

Slowly shaking your head, sitting down by Sevika once more, both of you would take Selani with you to the last drop, as you had nobody to watch over her. Thank goodness for Jinx sometimes, but you never wanted to pressure her watching over some kid, but she always proves you wrong when Selani is gone, in seconds walking away with Jinx to do whatever.

Sevika did whatever Silco wanted her to do, whether it be cleaning up one of his messes with people or looking scary behind him. But she is graced with time to herself, which is usually at the table playing poker. You'd always say her playing poker was a show just for you because you got to watch her from afar enjoying the smirk her face always held as the other players held a look of defeat.

"You lucked out, kid; none of us are going today." Sevika spoke up, breaking you out of your train of thought. Selani frowned at the news of not going out. She always wanted to be out exploring or at the last drop, whether it be with Jinx or sneaking away and somehow finding Silco and bothering him; he seemed to not mind, you hoped.

"What? Why not?!" Crossing her little arms in frustration, both of her eyebrows slanted. That is the start of a tantrum you've grown to learn from the years you took her in--not fun at all, you remembered. It took both of you time to learn how to be parents to a child, having no prior experience, though Sevika had a tiny bit from when Jinx was younger.

Sevika let out a huge sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose before looking back up at Selani. "Because we both got the day off, and you usually take those for granted, trust me, kid." Selani's gaze just stared at the both of you; confusion covered her face. The both of you never had a day off, so why now all of a sudden? Adjusting your body to sit more straight, you faced her directly, a soft smile placed on your face knowing it's good to talk to her straightforwardly with a few restrictions but to help her feel more validated and that she had your attention.

"It's a good thing not to worry, Selani; it just means me and Sevika have the whole day with you to play or cook, even just relax if you wanted." As soon as those words left your mouth, her face lit up as if she saw a whole pile of candy with a sign that said free. "Really!" A toothy grin appeared with one missing front tooth. Giving her a nod, she immediately shot up, running over to the both of you.

Once she was in front of you both, you could tell many ideas of games were filling her little mind. Taking both of your hands, making you stand. "Do you guys have any game ideas?" Selani asked, pride filled within you, teaching her to always ask her friends if they had any ideas before doing all of hers to ensure a fair game. Within a second, Sevika tapped her shoulder before dragging you away, running. "Your it!" is what you had managed to comprehend.

"That's cheating!" Selani yelled, her laugh heard behind you as you both ran. Now ending up in your shared room with Sevika, you purposely slowed down, letting Selani catch up and tap you. Quietly, you both teamed up to get Sevika and corner her. She went in the other room first, then you followed behind.

Immediately, Selani ran at Sevika, jumping on her; following Selani's actions, avoiding hitting them both, the three of you land onto the bed. Laughter could be heard throughout the whole apartment. And if it was heard by anyone, they would only think how happy you all are. This was your safe spot, where happiness is the love of your life and beloved child. 

Sevika carefully flipped Selani over the bed, and a game of play fighting began. You watched to make sure they both didn't get hurt, and to your surprise, Selani pulled the kick method. "You called what I did cheating. What you're doing is cheating!" She joked, a smile plastered on her face as she managed to get ahold of Selani.

In a moment, Selani whispered something to Sevika, and a grin grew as they both slowly turned to look at you. "Uh oh, what's going on?" With a blink of an eye, they both grabbed you, landing back onto the bed, Selani tickled you on your stomach.

Even if your laughs filled the room, your thoughts only held on how much you adored this moment and would cherish it forever.

Life for you got automatically better and brighter once they both entered your life, and you'd never trade it away.

[norrisradio]

IT'S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO !

❝ tara here ! ❞ / she/hers / 20s / ln4 2025 wdc truther

⏲ writing for... LN4, OP81, LH44, GR63, AA23, CS55, YT22 norrisradio is a sideblog ! masterlist and tag guide under the cut. come say hi, inbox is open !

MASTERLIST !

LANDO NORRIS • [LN4] ➷ REDLINE | ⚡︎ drag racer! reader | f, a, h | 5k ╰› SPEED TRAP (REDLINE pt. 2) | ⚡︎ drag racer! reader | f, a, s | 6.6k ➷ little spoon | ⚡︎ est. relationship | f, h | 1.1k ➷ D.N.F (DO NOT FLIRT) | ⚡︎ motoGP! reader | f, s | 4.5k ➷ morning light | ⚡︎ est. relationship | f, h | 1.4k ➷ every version of after | ⚡︎ exes to ??? | a, f | 1.6k ➷ halfway home | ⚡︎ situationship-to-lovers | a, f | 1.9k ➷ almost, always | ⚡︎ situationship-to-lovers, race engineer! reader | a, f | 1.4k ➷ true love of mine | ⚡︎ bf2l | a, f | 5.5k

OSCAR PIASTRI • [OP81] ➷ only exception | ⚡︎ est. relationship | f | 3.0k ➷ meet me in the woods | ⚡︎ est. relationship | f,h | 1.6k ➷ some kind of faith | ⚡︎ f2l | f, a | 1.6k ➷ in the details | ⚡︎ established relationship | f, h | 1.6k ➷ small talk | ⚡︎ stangers-to-??? | f, h | 1.7k

YUKI TSUNODA • [YK22] ➷ almost | ⚡︎ chef! reader | f, a, h | 1.1k ➷ the one with the baby | ⚡︎ est. relationship | f, h | 1.0k ➷ surfside | ⚡︎ est. relationship, olympic surfer! reader | 1.8k ➷ pressed between pages | ⚡︎ est. relationship | f, a | 1.0k ➷ show me how | ⚡︎ f2l | f, a | 1.7k

CARLOS SAINZ • [CS55] ➷ more time | ⚡︎ exes to.... | a, f | 1.1k

ALEX ALBON • [AA23] ➷ better together | ⚡︎ est. relationship | f | 4.0k

LEWIS HAMILTON • [LH44] ➷ coming soon!

TAG SYSTEM !

ˋ°•*⁀➷ #⚡︎ race day, writing | #⚡︎ pole position, reads | #⚡︎ media circus, tara yaps | #⚡︎ box box, asked and answered | #⚡︎ podium, media and misc

DON'T FORGET MY CO-DRIVER ⚡︎ @tsunodaradio

[slutforfinnickodair]

HI BBG😻😻 I was wondering if you could write something for Sam Monroe like maybe he has a prince albert piercing?! I’m going feral rn. Okay love yaa

At the piercer

Pairing: Older!F!Reader x Sam Monroe

plot: Sam is in a little need of some money and after one of his friends bets him a lot of it in change for that piercing, he goes to visit one of his friends.

warnings: oral (male receiving), piercings, talk of smoking and use of drugs, age gap — sam is like 21 reader is more like 29, cheating

a/n: holy cow. WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS PLEASE MESSAGE ME😭🙏 By the way guys my inbox is open so please give me some requests😻

word count: 1.4k

—

“Yo, dude.” Josh nudged Sam by his shoulders. Sam gave him a look from the side before taking off his headphones that were blasting Metallica a moment ago.

“What do you want?” His hoarse voice made Josh want to laugh but he stood his ground.

“Want to bet five hundred bucks?” Josh said while leaning against the fence of their house.

Sam sighed before thinking of it. Five hundred bucks would be good for at least three pounds of weed. Maybe he could get some cigarettes along with it or even pills.

“What’s the deal?” Sam stood up from the grass, making Josh smirk before he turned his head to look at Thomas.

“He won’t do it man let it go.” Tommy shook his head while Josh kicked his leg making Thomas buckle his knees.

“You got a thing for that Y/N don’t you?” Josh asked while Sam narrowed his eyes at the blonde. Who was he to question if he liked her or not? She was already married for two years now so he had no chance over a man who looked like he was coming out from a Vogue magazine’s frontpage. Plus, he was way younger.

“Just say what you want, Jonathan.” Sam crossed his arms on his chest.

“How about you go to her salon and ask for a piercing?” Josh chuckled while looking down at his own groin.

The raven haired boy instantly shook his head.

“Come on Sam, it's gonna be fun. Don’t be such a pimp. Isn’t this what you want after all? Some weed and pills. You know five hundred dollars isn’t a small amount of money” Josh teased.

“I’m not doing it anyways.” Sam said. “Either if I get the money or not.”

“Are you shy? That she will see how small your dick actually is?” Thomas laughed while Josh kicked him again.

Sam tilted his head backwards. A piercing? Down there? Sure for five hundred it wasn’t really a big deal but he wasn’t even sure Y/N could do something like that.

“Fine, I'll do it.” Sam suddenly said while Josh smirked and patted Thomas on his back while turning around and walking back into their house.

—

Sam walked into your shop, hearing the bell echo through the building as he stepped inside and closed the door behind himself.

“Oh, Hi Sam.” You said as you spotted him across the reception. He was wearing flared jeans with one of those metal rock bands on it that you casually knew the name of but didn’t listen to any of their songs.

“Hi.” He said while walking over to you.

“What brings you in today?” You asked while pulling out your notepad to add a new customer for today. You only had five today and it was already two in the afternoon so it was quite a slow day.

Now this was the part where Sam lost all of his confidence just looking at you all over again.

You had your hair pinned up so it didn’t fall into your sight. You were wearing a blouse with nothing underneath so he saw your nipple piercings poking through the fabric.

He felt his mouth watering up at the sight as you leant against the counter, writing his name in in your diary.

“Well..umm.” He started but then stopped again as you looked up at him. “I..”

You tilted your head smiling slightly as you saw a little red creeping up to his face.

“I’m guessing you want it somewhere private.” You said while he let out a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“Nipple piercings?” You guessed while looking up at him.

“No.”

You tried to think of anything that could weird out a twenty one year old boy, then the question suddenly left your mouth.

“A cockring?” You asked while Sam breathed out and nodded his head slowly.

“Okay.” You got up from behind the counter and walked towards the mattress where you did all of your job.

“Lay down.” You said while sitting down on the barstool next to him.

Sam laid down as you said and stared at the ceiling while you got some of the stuff that was needed. You put on some gloves, searching for a needle and the disinfectant with a cotton swab nearby.

“Are you nervous?” You asked to make a brief conversation.

“A little.” He admitted while readjusting his position.

“Don’t worry it will be fine.” You said while turning around. “Though you would need to pull your jeans and underwear down.” You said while waiting for him to do so.

“Oh right.” He murmured while quickly fidgeting with his belt.

Your thoughts suddenly drifted away. You’ve been doing piercings for Sam since he turned seventeen. Of course you thought he looked fine but he was way too young for you. You were already twenty five when you met.

Your husband wouldn’t give a shit if you just went and slept around, because he did the same. Not that you did care, you needed the money and that was it.

Sam was different, you only thought of him as a one night stand and even that was a huge mistake to think of. He probably had many women drooling around him; he didn't need one who was married.

“Okay so.” You started while looking at his pretty face. “You know I would like you to get a little bit aroused before we start this so the needle can easily pierce your skin.” You dared not to look down at his member. Sam paid attention to this as he stared right into your gorgeous eyes, waiting for you to finally touch him even if it meant his head would be swelling for a good two weeks.

“I’ll leave you alone to do this.” You said while getting up from the barstool that you were seated on. Sam wanted to call out for you but he rather closed his mouth and watched as you walked behind the counter again, looking up at the clock before diving your head into one of your notebooks where you rearranged some appointments that were off for today. You were basically just scribbling down whatever came to your mind.

By the time you walked back to where Sam was, you saw exactly how he was currently rubbing himself, trying to get ready. All you saw was that the poor boy tried to do his best but he was still limp. You pulled at your lips as a wicked thought ran up into your head.

Jacking him off wouldn’t be cheating would it be?

You didn’t care though, you walked over to him and sat back on the barstool. When he noticed you he quickly pulled away his hands, staring at you.

“Seems like you don’t have anyone to think about.” You said while he gulped down his spit. Gosh how could you be so hot and confident at the same time?

“Trust me, I do.” He murmured while looking down at your cleavage.

“Okay pretty boy well how about I help you out a little bit?” You suggested while pulling out something like lube from one of your drawers.

“You would?” He asked surprised.

Oh god, she’s going to stroke my dick.

“Well if I need to..” You pressed some of that lube on your fingertips looking down at him.

Sam kept looking at you, praying not to cum in a minute under your hands. You probably had no time for him anyways.

You looked him into the eyes once before taking his tip between your fingertips, rubbing the lube right on the skin.

This was the first time Sam held his moans back, trying to gain composure as you kept flicking the head with your hands. If you kept going like this you would be having to see him cumming all over your hand.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath as you went faster. You even forgot this wasn’t supposed to be a blowjob until the very moment you got thick ropes of white coming down your hands.

A soft gasp left your lips but even then you kept going. Sam twitched underneath your hand, groaning once you sped up again.

“You gonna cum again for me baby?” You purred while now your hand was caressing his entire length.

“Yes..” He gasped while you kept smirking.

Let’s just say Sam Monroe turned out to visit your salon more after that encounter. Plus, he always made sure your husband would see the leftover marks that your setting powder couldn’t cover.

[rivendell-poet]

Maybe the Fellowship with an S/O who likes to be the big spoon despite the fact that in any other situation, they're the more 'submissive' one in the relationship? Something like the Fellowship finding that out about the Reader and how they react/respond to it, while Reader's a bit nervous since it's generally the man/more dominant one in the relationship who's the big spoon (if that makes sense) Take your time with this and I hope you have a good day/evening/night wherever you are <3

Of course I can! And hello again Raikan, sorry for leaving you on inbox for this long. And thank you so much for the little message at the end, it always genuinely means so much <3

Hope you enjoy this!

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐧❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Gimli ○ Boromir ○ Pippin ○ Merry ○ Sam ○ Frodo ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 1.4k | TWs : None | Reader is not given a gender at any times & no gendered tones are used, however Fellowship are sometimes referred to as 'the masculine one in the relationship' - so be mindful if you need to.

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ The first time he encounters it is while you’re travelling together as rangers. He’s decided to set up camp for the night, and as there’s frost all around he proposes you share a bedroll.

✧ At first you simply agree, and it’s only afterwards that you begin to look tentative.

✧ He worries that perhaps he’s overstepped, that you feel pressured into doing something you don’t want to do. Aragorn immediately explains that what he said was only an offer.

✧ You reassure him that that’s not what you were worried about. It’s just… you’d rather be the big spoon.

✧ He stops and looks at you for a second, with the intensity you worry you’ve said something, before he simply nods and says he’s more than willing to do that.

✧ “My love, you never have to be nervous to ask me about anything. Especially if it’s so I can make you feel better.”

✧ Doesn’t particularly address it until nighttime strikes, when he simply asks if you’d rather he lay down and you move around him, or you lay down and he leans into you.

✧ Is more than happy to go with whichever way you prefer.

✧ Aragorn normally moves around quite a lot while he’s sleeping, so you being there as a steady presence is actually quite helpful for him and lets him fall asleep faster.

✧ Nothing particularly changes between the two of you, except how you’ll sometimes lie like that.

✧ Until he approaches you while tired, and sheepishly asks if the two of you can simply cuddle - he doesn’t need to sleep yet, he just needs someones (your) presence.

✧ Every now and then, you’ll now get the ranger coming up to you and gently laying out next to you. Relaxing slightly as your arms close around him.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Elves don’t exactly have the same standards of masculine and feminine partners in relationships.

✧ He’s also quite unused to physical touch (although he’ll always lean into any you give him), but he can’t still tell there’s something slightly off when he’s holding you while your cuddling.

✧ It’s not ‘off’ enough of a feeling that there’s something majorly wrong, but he’s observant enough to know there’s something wrong.

✧ So he asks you.

✧ Legolas is honestly slightly confused when you admit it, mainly because he isn’t sure why you’d be embarrassed by such a request.

✧ Is also very enthusiastic about being the one to be hugged.

✧ Enjoys the feeling of being held, and also doesn’t have to worry that he’s not providing you physical affection the right way.

✧ Does move around a bit, but nothing too uncomfortable and it doesn’t happen very often.

✧ Asks if it’s okay for him to lean on you at other times, and once you give you consent he definitely takes advantage of that fact.

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

✧ In a way, he has sort of the opposite problem. He wants to be the man of the relationship, to prove that he can protect you, and cherish you, and do everything expected of a dwarf in this relationship.

✧ But, he also really enjoys being held by you - there’s something comforting about the times you’ve hugged, and he’s been able to relax in your arms.

✧ In the end, both of you approach each other about the issue at the same time.

✧ You’re both awkward and apologetic about it, insisting the other goes first - before agreeing to say it at the same time. Lo and behold, it’s actually the same issue.

✧ There’s definitely some laughing the first time you settle into each other's arms as you think of the discussion.

✧ However, both of you very quickly settle into - and enjoy - the routine.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ The fact you’d rather be the big spoon doesn’t come out in conversation, but rather in an action.

✧ Both of you had cuddled each other a few times before - and you had to admit it was very nice to be in Boromir’s arms, it just wasn’t your preference.

✧ Instead, it happens as the Fellowship is winding down for the night, and getting ready to sleep.

✧ Watch has already been decided, and Boromir is taking a moment to relax before he starts his - when you lie next to him.

✧ Except, instead of his arms going around yours, your arms have gone around him. Holding him securely, comfortingly, making him feel… safe.

✧ He simply leans into you for a second, and you to him, before he feels you stiffen and realise that you’re holding him and not the opposite way around.

✧ Your hands begin to move backwards with an awkward apology, before he gently stops you.

✧ Keeps your arms around him. Before asking why you would remove them.

✧ You begin to sheepishly explain, and half apologies, before he clarifies that this is the position that you’d prefer to be in.

✧ When you say yes he simply settles slightly more into your arms.

✧ “I’m glad you prefer it this way. You make me feel… safe.”

✧ (Occasionally he wishes to the big spoon - normally when he’s in an anxious mood, and wants to be protective - but most nights will happily have you cover him.)

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Hobbits definitely value up-front communication in relationships, and within the Shire there’s a lot less stigma around having an ‘odd’ preference in relationships.

✧ Yes, you could get looked at occasionally, but most hobbits simply care if you’re happy. And they’re always all smiles when they see the joy in you and Pippin’s eyes when you're together.

✧ So Pippin simply immediately asks.

✧ He can see your hesitation, before reassuring you that he truly doesn’t mind.

✧ As long as cuddling is happening, he’s happy either way. Or both ways. Or even to barely touch at all, and instead give mournful glances across the room.

✧ When you explain your preference you see his eyes shine for a second, before saying he’s completely fine with that.

✧ The second there is a sofa, or a bed, or even some dry enough grass after the confession - he looks at you with the biggest puppy dogs eyes.

✧ “Please, my love?”

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ It’s after a day’s work that he’s ran to you, burying his face in your arms when the thought hits him.

✧ You’ve never truly cuddled. You’ve hugged, you’ve kissed (he’s accidentally made the two of you fall onto the grass together), but you are yet to cuddle.

✧ Instantly, Merry Brandybuck recognises this as a problem that needs to be solved.

✧ So, his arms still wrapped around you, he asks how you like to cuddle together.

✧ Merry asks with such genuine sincerity, a joyful curiosity that shows he cares, that you don’t feel uncomfortable when you answer honestly.

✧ And the massive grin that stretches across his face when you answer reassures you as well.

✧ (Is definitely the type to come up to you and almost fall into your arms after a long day. Or, if he’s found a particularly comfortable position he’ll sometimes call you over and ask for hugs there.)

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Is also one of the Fellowship members where you find out from actions, instead of words.

✧ Mainly because Sam is far too shy to initiate a cuddle intimate enough that big spoon/little spoon roles would even occur in.

✧ So in the end it’s you who initiates one, which also means it’s you who gets to pick what role you want.

✧ With only a hint of nerves, you lie down next to him and hug him fully - letting him lean into you.

✧ The slight contented sigh tells you you’re doing something right, that and the fact he sheepishly comes closer to you.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Frankly, Frodo is the little spoon anyway. He enjoys hugging you - and lying on the outside occasionally.

✧ But he feels so safe when he’s in your arms, that truly he wants to just be in them. For you to hold him instead.

✧ When the situation for cuddling first arises, it’s actually him that brings it up first.

✧ Hoping that you’ll be okay with it.

✧ The soft look of surprise followed immediately by a smile and shining eyes confirms it for him.

✧ (Frodo is also very prone to coming and just lying next to you throughout the day. Has an almost cat-like tendency to be drawn to you when he’s sleeping.)

A/N : I feel I typed the word 'arms' too many times here. Oh well, hopefully it was still enjoyable <3

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @wordbunch / @bespectacledhuman / @howling-medic / @fern-reads / @chewgazellechew / @recordofragnarokfan2 / @stormchaser819 / @raikan624 / @fleurdemiel-145 / @anchy-bananchy / @zeldastrife / @themuseinthewoods / @deannie13 / @eliosberry / @northernwing / @paigemackenzie0206 / @satans-bitch / @awayaesworld / @Staygoldsquatchling02 / @permanently-nothere ✧ wish to be tagged?

[froggibus]

Hay, I recently found your stuff on here. I really like your writing. I'm not really sure how the request works? I hope i'm doing it right:)

Can you do DC characters/Batboys finding readers self-harm scar's/marks and how they react

(I've struggled with self-harm off and on for a long time, and at least for me, I've kind of like thinking about how my favorite characters would react/try and support)

Also, if you do, can you do some about Mark some on the thighs. it's hard to find stuff about other then on the arms

Im dyslexic, so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense.

Leaping Into The Light - Batboys + Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Tim Drake x reader, Wally West x reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.4k (Dick), 1.3k (Tim), 1.5k (Jason) and 1.2k (Wally)

Summary: their reaction when they see your old self-harm marks/scars

CW: mentions of self-harm (past), self-harm scars (thighs mostly), awkward conversations, embarrassment, mental health, allusions to depression and suicidal thoughts, injury & blood (not from SH), insomnia, nightmares, Wally walks in on you changing, maybe some corny dialogue, mentions of sensory problems, recovery and healing this is at least the second fic ive wrote where Jason brings you chinese food--no clue why.

hi lovely, hope you're doing alright :) so sorry its taken me so long to get to this, january was a bitch for me. i also struggled on and off with self-harm before starting this blog, so writing this was incredibly personal to me <3 thank you for requesting, and i want you to know that my inbox is always open if you ever need to vent i really wanted to go for a more recovery-based fic where you're healing. i wanted to show that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it does get better, we do recover. you will be okay.

Dick:

It’s a rare, sunny morning in Bludhaven when you wake up and stretch your limbs. The sunlight filtering through the window catches on the bare length of your arms, casting brilliant patterns across your skin.

A newfound warmth filters through your apartment as you pad across the wooden floors and make your way to the kitchen. The sunlight seems to follow you, dancing across walls, door handles and cupboards as if saying hello.

The sight of Dick Grayson hunched over a laptop greets you at the kitchen island, his black hair almost brown in the morning light. 

He offers you a sleepy smile, “I made coffee.”

Your eyes move from his pyjama clad figure to the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter, tufts of steam still flowing from its spout. A smile breaks across your face, your eyes falling shut as you inhale the scent of fresh coffee.

Yeah, it’s going to be a good day.

Dick watches you from over the rim of his ‘World’s Best Detective’ coffee mug, blue eyes tracing your figure as you shuffle around the kitchen.

Dick watches as you cut open one of the croissants you’d picked up from the bakery yesterday and slather it in a generous coating of butter. He watches as you open the cupboard above the coffee machine, the one where you guys keep your dishes, and stretch up on your tippy toes to reach your favorite mug. 

This is his favorite part of any day—watching you. The soft domesticity of the morning blankets him, soothes him. It’s his daily reminder that there’s still good in the world around him.

His eyes stay on you as your fingers brush the handle of your mug, tugging it towards you little by little. He watches as it slides to the edge, your fingers just barely grasping it and—shit. He watches as the mug falls from the cupboard, shattering on the edge of the counter into a dozen pieces, the largest of which embeds itself in your leg. 

Everything happens so fast, you barely have any time to react. The ceramic shard slices through the leg of your pyjama pants and you keel over, clenching the skin of your thigh. The pain is searing and carries an unfortunate familiarity that has tears bubbling up in your eyes.

Dick’s at your side within seconds, an arm wrapping beneath your shoulders to keep you steady. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” You suck in a breath and risk glancing down at your leg, noting the splotch of red starting to soak through the fabric of your pants.

A sigh slips from your lips. So much for today being a good day.

Dick’s hand wraps around your own, positioning your fingers on either side of the wound. “Here,” he says calmly, “try and apply as much pressure as you can.”

Dick guides you to the bathroom with a steady confidence that only someone who’d trained under Bruce could have. He helps you onto the bathroom counter, your legs splayed out in front of him.

“Keep applying pressure,” he commands. 

You watch as he ducks beneath you, rummaging through the cupboard to pull out the first aid kit you’ve seen him use countless times. A weak laugh bubbles up inside of you—usually it’s the other way around. 

Dick holds up the kit triumphantly, dark strands of hair bouncing as he stands. He fixes you with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, the familiar blue filled with concern.

You force a smile despite the aching skin of your thigh. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” you assure him. “It's just a flesh wound.”

It’s not the physical pain that has tears pricking your eyes and thoughts racing around your head. No, it’s the reminder that comes with it. The flashbacks of nights spent entirely alone, of nights where the world was too quiet and your thoughts were too loud. 

Dick exhales in what seems to be a laugh, the tension in his shoulders falling. “Alright then,” he rubs his thumb along the seam of your pants, “let’s get these off before they get stained even more.”

You’re quick to agree, if only to not make him worry even more. You scoot to the edge of the counter and let Dick hook his thumbs into your waistband. The action is so casual but so intimate, and it has heat rushing through you.

The warm air of the apartment meets the bare skin of your thighs and Dick’s hands still. Realization flashes through you and by instinct alone, you grip the fabric of your pants and try to force it back up your legs. Dick catches your hands in his, gripping them just tightly enough to keep you from moving.

The pain of your wound is forgotten, replaced by a sudden surge of embarrassment. Your gaze lingers on your thighs, on the scarred skin that reminds you of the hardest time in your life.

Your mouth is impossibly dry as you force yourself to look at Dick. You expect disappointment, that annoying older brother look you’ve seen him use a thousand times. You’re wholly unprepared for the softness in his gaze, the kindness and warmth that radiates off him.

“Dick,” you say softly, ready to explain yourself. “It’s not…I’m not—”

You’re thankful when he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

You scrunch your nose. “But—”

He brushes a thumb across the faded marks, his touch delicate and firm. “It’s alright. I know what these mean.” A new intensity flickers through his eyes, but as soon as you see it, it’s gone. “Let’s get you patched up.”

Dick kneels down and gets to work soaking up the blood while you stare at his working hands in confusion. You’d told him before about the hard times you went through, the mental state you were in.

That was part of the reason you moved in together—so Dick could help you and keep a better eye on you. But you’d never told him about the self-harm or the scars that speckled your skin.

Yet, his reaction is so normal it has your head spinning.

He finishes wiping up the blood and gets to work disinfecting it. The rubbing alcohol stings but the burn is quickly snuffed out by polysporin.

“It’s been a while.” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Sometimes I still think about it, miss it, even. That probably sounds strange but…it’s hard sometimes.”

Dick glances up at you but says nothing. 

“I-I have bad nights sometimes, and it’s all I can think about. But it helps. Living here with you, I mean. It helps.”

Dick secures a thick piece of gauze over the wound, patting it gently to ensure it stays in place. “You don’t have to hide it, you know.”

“I know, but—” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut. “You already have so much on your shoulders, with work and your family and…other things. The last thing I want to do is weigh you down even more.”

He rests his hands on your thighs and levels you with a serious look. “That’s ridiculous. The only thing that would hold me down is knowing that you’re hurting alone. You’re so incredibly important to me, how could you ever think you’d be a burden to me?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

“I want to take care of you, I want to help you.” He traces circles across your skin with his thumb, “I don’t want you dying in the dark, y/n.”

Tears prick your eyes once more, a heavy warmth settling into your chest. “Dick…”

“C’mere.”

He pulls you into his chest, settling between your legs at the counter. One of his hands wraps around your neck, petting the back of your head slowly. 

“Just promise me this,” his voice is soft. “If it gets bad and you need help, promise you’ll reach out. Call me, come to me—whatever. We don’t even have to talk about it, just let me help you. Please.”

You nod quickly, burying your face further into his chest. Don’t want you dying in the dark, his words echo inside your head. 

Within the warmth of his arms, you can’t help but feel that this is a step forward, and with Dick by your side, you’ll be leaping into the light in no time.

Jason:

It’s midnight when Jason Todd comes banging on your door, takeout bags in hand. Despite the late hour, he still sports his day clothes—grey cargo pants and a black compression shirt over a pair of combat boots.

Setting your book down on the couch, you stumble to the door as quickly as you can, if only to keep his incessant banging from waking your neighbours. You swing the door open and raise an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation.

“Hey.” He holds out the takeout bags for you to take, “have you eaten yet?”

“At midnight on a Saturday? Yes.”

In spite of yourself, you reach out and take the bags from his hands. You shuffle back into your home, gesturing to him to follow after you.

Jason shuts your door behind him and locks it in one, smooth motion that has you wondering if he’s been here one too many times. You try not to dwell on it, just like you try not to think about how easily he finds a spot on your shoe rack—the same one he always uses—and seats himself on a stool at your counter.

Jason watches while you unpack the takeout, cardboard containers billowing with steam lining your counters. The scent of fresh Chinese food fills the room, a heavy sort of comfort settling over it.

“So,” you say, propping yourself on your tiptoes to reach the last container in the bag, “what brings you over?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders falling heavily. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Just thought I’d check in.”

A frown flashes over your face but you quickly mask it with a tight lipped smile and a nod. It has been a while, and any hope that Jason wouldn’t notice is immediately snuffed out. 

“I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

It’s a half-truth at best but you’re not quite sure what else to say, how else to explain what you’ve gone through lately. 

Jason squints, examining you. If it was anyone else, they might not have noticed something was wrong. They probably wouldn’t notice the shadows beneath your eyes, or the slight shake to your hands as you bring out plates and cutlery. If it was anyone else, they’d probably believe you.

But Jason doesn’t.

You get to work dishing up a plate, sucking in a breath when Jason sidles up next to you to dish himself up. The sudden proximity has the breath leaving your body and heat climbing the back of your neck. God—how long has it been since you touched another person? Since you’ve seen another person?

You force the feelings down and finish grabbing your food, making your way to the couch you’ve been rotting on for days. A small stack of books and a few empty glasses scatter the side table—clear evidence of your struggle.

Jason sits at the opposite end of the couch, balancing his plate on his lap. You don’t miss the way his eyes skim over the room, taking everything in. He takes a bite of his fried rice but his blue eyes remain on you.

He clears his throat. “That’s a good one,” he points with his fork at a romance book near the bottom of your pile. “A little racy for my tastes, but the worldbuilding was insane.”

“Something’s a little too racy for you?”

“Hey,” he rolls his eyes, “believe it or not, I do have standards.”

Joy swells in your chest and threatens to bring tears to your eyes. You’ve shut yourself away for so long, you’d almost forgotten what normalcy feels like. But this? You and Jason, eating takeout and talking about books on your couch? That’s the most normal thing in the world to you. 

You snort. “Sure you do.”

“I do!” He protests. “I loved the first four books, but that one? My god. Half the book was just them going at it.”

You laugh, your chest aching with longing. You missed this, god, you missed this, One minute you’re laughing over Jason’s review and the next you’re sobbing, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your voice cracks, a horribly cry ripping free of your throat.

“Woah, woah.”

Jason’s voice is soft, a beacon of light in the sudden storm of emotions that’s gripped you. He sets his plate on the coffee table, scooching down the length of the couch to your side.

“I don’t, I can’t—” 

“Hey,” he says calmly, taking your half eaten plate from your hands and setting it on your side table. “It’s alright. Shh, it’s alright.”

You let yourself slump into the couch, your feelings eating away at your physical strength. Jason throws an arm around you, pulling you into his side. The warmth of his body floods you.

You sob and Jason speaks, though you don’t quite catch what he’s saying. The world around you fades to a mosaic of tears and sorrow and guilt. Your heart is so heavy in your chest you worry it might fall out and drag you down with it.

“Talk to me,” Jason says softly. “Please.”

A calloused hand lifts to your cheek, wiping away wet tears. You want to give in to his touch so bad, give into what he’s saying. But how can you take his comfort when you’ve avoided him for weeks? When you’ve pushed yourself so far away that it feels like there’s no hope of coming back?

You tear yourself away from his grip, forcing yourself to your feet. Your hands shake as you turn to face him. When your eyes meet, his are filled with something entirely new to you—concern.

“I-I can’t.”

He sets his jaw. “Why not? You’ve been away from me for so long, you’ve been avoiding me,” he forces himself to keep his voice level. “I just want to know why. I just want to help you.”

His sudden pleading tone has you freezing in your tracks. You look at him seriously, “swear?”

“Swear.”

You sigh and slip your fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants. For a second, you clench your fists, trying to ground yourself. The world around you seems to still as you tug your pants down, shimmying out of them until they lay in a pool around your ankles.

Jason watches silently, his head cocked to the side in visible confusion. It’s only when you self-consciously rub a hand over the skin of your left thigh does he notice.

The breath leaves his body, his lungs squeezing so tight he’s afraid they might burst. He’s no stranger to scars—he has at least a few dozen himself—but these are entirely different. 

The scars scatter the surface of both thighs, long and thin. Most are completely healed, some just barely finishing the process. The size, the shape, the distance…intentional is the only word that comes to mind.

Jason feels his heart break in his chest but he can’t bring himself to look away. You’re hurt—you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing to help. “Y/n,” he says softly.

You shrink beneath his gaze. You can’t think of a single time he’s looked at you like this—scared and worried and broken. It has the guilt rising in your throat once more, threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m better,” you try to assure him, your voice hoarse from crying. “I’m getting better. It was bad but—I’m getting better now. I-I’m okay. I swear.”

You wait for him to say something, anything. You wait for the anger, for a lecture about how stupid and dangerous this can be. You wait for him to scoff at your problems. 

You’re utterly shocked when Jason falls to his knees in front of you, head tilting up to look at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

“Jason…”

“This is why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You nod slowly, as if moving slower will keep the ice from breaking.

“Fuck, y/n, why didn’t you—god, you should know that I of all people would understand.” He traces a finger across a particularly fresh scar, “this isn’t something you needed to hide from me. This isn’t something you ever have to hide from me.”

“I—”

“I’m not finished.”

You’re taken aback, the words ripped straight from your mouth. 

“Let me help you. Come to me and let me help you. Don’t shut yourself away in the dark and suffer all by yourself.” He runs his fingers through his hair, cracking the ghost of a smile, “god, who are you, me?”

A half-laugh, half-sob leaves you. “I just don’t like bothering people.”

“You think you could annoy me? You overestimate yourself, y/n. The only people who annoy me are Waynes and Wayne-adjacent.”

He rises to his feet in front of you and tugs you into his chest before you can react. His grip on you is tighter than usual, the warmth of his arms threatening to consume you. 

“You’ll come to me next time you feel this way, yeah?” He says, and he feels you nod against his chest. “Swear?”

“Swear.”

Tim:

Your chest burns as you sit up in bed, lungs heaving as they try to force some air into your body. Your ribs ache from the way your heart hammers against them.

Rubbing your aching eyes, you force yourself to swing your legs over the side of your bed and reach for your lamp. The light comes on with a click, illuminating the walls of your room. Finally, you manage to take a deep breath, the cold air soothing your burning chest.

It was just a dream. You’re safe here. But the words taste bitter and empty, the images you’d seen while you were asleep still spinning around your head. You rub at the exposed skin of your thighs where the seam of your shorts come to an end. The friction barely manages to warm you among the cold night air.

Before you can even think, your feet are meeting the ground and you’re padding across the room. You hesitate for just a second when your hand meets the door handle, but the hesitation melts into need and you continue on your way.

Your steps are quiet through the hallway, unimposing. When you find yourself facing the closed door, identical to yours, you knock softly. Once, twice, and then the door is swinging open.

Tim stands on the other side, bleary eyed and messy haired from sleep. He yawns, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey,” his voice is raspy, “everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep.”

It’s all you have to say before he’s opening the door as wide as it goes, gesturing you to the disheveled navy covers of his bed spread. The sleepiness fades from his body as he watches you closely, examining your every movement.

Your eyes are red-rimmed and sweat beads along your temples. Despite wearing pyjamas—patterned shorts and a t-shirt that looks suspiciously like one of his—they don’t look wrinkled with sleep like they should be. 

Tim frowns. Something’s wrong, and it’s more than not being able to sleep.

He shuffles in after you, closing the door and clicking the lock behind him. His examination continues as he reaches the bed and crawls in next to you. You fit together so easily, so perfectly, it’s hard to believe this is the first time you’ve ever sought him out.

In all the time you’ve known each other, never once have you ever gone to Tim when you can’t sleep. He’s known about your sleep problems for a while, from even before you’d told him. Yet, never once have you asked for his help.

Until tonight.

Tim’s arms fall easily around you, one gently across your waist, the other falling on the side of your thigh. You’re so tired, so shaken from your dream, your head falls easily into his pillows and your eyes flutter shut. 

It’s not so much sleep that hits you as much as it is contentment. Tim’s hand trails up and down the side of your thigh, fingers exploring the soft skin while he tries to soothe you to sleep.

His hand shuffles sideways, just a tiny bit more, and then pauses. His fingertips graze something rough, something raised slightly, and the breath leaves his body. His hand trails further and he’s met with another, almost perfectly parallel to the first.

No, it can’t be.

Trying not to startle you, he moves the arm around your waist as slowly as he can. His fingertips make their way up his own body, finding their way to the scar on his abdomen from when he lost his spleen. He swipes his thumb over the area, feeling the rough patch of raised skin.

His other hand trails over your thigh again, feeling the rows of similar skin. For a moment, he swears the world stops turning.

The feeling is unmistakable, and even though it’s dark and he hasn’t laid eyes on them, he knows exactly what they are.

He wraps his arm around your waist once more and pulls you closer. “Y/n,” he whispers.

You whimper, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you. Tim’s hand rubs over the scars on your thigh once more, and suddenly your weariness is replaced with an icy feeling in your veins.

You sit up abruptly, forcing your body away from his. 

“Y/n.”

You gasp, looking up at him through teary lashes. You draw your knees into your chest, the pressure helping soothe the sudden cold in your chest. You bury your face between your knees.

The longer Tim stays silent, the worse your anxiety gets. You wait for the familiar cold logic, for the warmth to fall away and the sarcastic, callous detective to show up. You expect it any second.

But Tim does something that surprises you even more.

He wraps an arm around you, letting your head lean on his shoulder, and murmurs, “how long has it been?”

It takes a few seconds for you to gather your bearings and realize what he’s asking. You blink a few times, slowly unfurling your body. Though you know it’s too dark for him to see the scars, you see his eyes fall on your bare thighs anyway.

“A while,” you admit. “It comes and goes.”

He rubs his hand up and down your arm. “Is that why you came to me?”

You swallow, remembering the horrid dream you’d had earlier. “Partially.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

The pet name takes you by surprise, washing away the cold shame that threatened to drown you. You relax further into Tim’s side, relishing in the heat of his body.

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” you say quietly. “I know it’s bad, that I shouldn’t do it. And I try not to. I’ve been really good about that lately. It’s just…”

Tim stays silent as you trail off, trying to find the right words to explain yourself. He keeps rubbing the skin of your arm, as if reminding you that he’s still there.

“Things get hard sometimes. I don’t like asking for help, because I don’t want anyone to think less of me, or think I have problems and—”

“Why would anyone ever think less of you?”

His words stun you out of your speech, every thought you had falling away. You take a few deep breaths, letting them echo around your head.

“God, this is so hypocritical of me but,” he sighs, “there’s nothing wrong with needing support or asking for help. You’re not any worse off because you needed a little comfort on a bad day, you’re not a burden just because you’re hurting.”

“I just—”

“You came to me tonight because you needed comfort, right?” He gestures around the room, “did anything bad happen because of that?”

You shake your head.

“Did I question you at all, or make you feel like it was a problem?”

Realization dawns on you. “No.”

“That’s because it’s not a problem, you’re not a problem. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, but the first step to feeling better is helping yourself.” He offers you a sleepy smile, “and that’s what you did tonight. You helped yourself by asking for help.”

“Tim…”

“I’m really proud of you for coming to me tonight, y/n. Whether it was consciously or not.”

A stray tear rolls down your cheek, his kind words washing over you in waves. 

“Keep coming to me when you need it. Let me shoulder your problems with you. Please.”

The sudden plea catches you off guard and suddenly more tears are falling down your face. You wrap your arms around Tim and let your head fall into his shoulder, burying your face into the side of his neck.

He holds you tighter, letting you cry it all out.

Wally:

The sound of rain on your window seems to taunt you as you struggle out of your soaking wet jeans. The fabric sticks to your skin, chafing as you try to force it away from the chilled skin of your legs. 

As if the sudden torrential downpour that had ruined any hopes of a morning breakfast run wasn’t bad enough, now you seemed to be forever trapped in your sensory nightmare—wet denim. A groan of frustration leaves your lips as you abandon your jeans and instead tug away the sopping fabric of your t-shirt.

Goosebumps rise across your damp skin the minute the air touches it. You shiver slightly and wrap your arms around yourself, stumbling across the room to find a sweatshirt.

You settle on one you’d stolen from Wally months ago that you’re partially convinced he’d stolen from Dick. Still, the worn cotton warms your skin as you make the trek across your room and to the full-body mirror resting against a wall. 

You use the guidance of your reflection to peel away your jeans, shimmying awkwardly until finally the heavy fabric gives way. They land in a wet plop on the floor, splattering water that you can’t be bothered to clean up.

Just as you turn away from the mirror, one of the shiny scars on your thigh catches the light and draws your attention back to it. You frown, pulling the marked skin of your leg tight, examining the scars in the mirror. 

Most are small and thin, luckily not bad enough to leave more than a faded, dark mark on the skin. You cringe at the ones that are worse—raised and puffy and shiny in the centre. They’re still healing, you remind yourself.

“Hey, no way you’re still changing in here—” the door clicks open and Wally’s voice trails off.

You whip your head to him, watching as he stumbles into the room. A flush falls across his face. His eyes trail over you, tracing your figure, falling onto your underwear and the uncovered skin around it.

Wally freezes, green eyes glued to the scars you’d just been examining. His brows scrunch together, his lips twisting into a frown.

Oh, goddamn. 

Any other time, Wally would feel mortified—and somewhat blessed—to walk in on you changing. He’d cover his eyes and stumble around awkwardly, mumbling out some goofy apology laced in innuendos. 

It’s clear now from the frown on his face and the hard set solemnity in his eyes that that Wally is gone. 

He’s at your side before you can react, falling to his knees in front of you. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone—”

His words trail off, his face falling as realization dawns across his features. He traces a thumb across the biggest of the scars and you swear you see tears prick at his eyes.

“Wally, it’s not—”

“It’s not what?” He looks up at you seriously. 

And you pause, reconsidering your words. Wally’s always been the kind one, the goofy one, the comedic relief. It’s rare that you see him serious, rare that he wavers like this.

You lower yourself to the ground beside him, cringing at the unpleasant cold meeting the bare backs of your legs. Wally keeps his focus on your thighs, fingers tracing over every scar, every mark, like he could somehow erase them.

You stay entirely still next to him, letting him calm himself with your touch. “It’s not really something I do anymore,” you say quietly.

His hand stills, the warmth of his clammy palm resting on your upper thigh. In any other situation, it would feel intimate. But right now, all it feels like is a slap to the face. 

“I still have bad days, but I manage. This,” you gesture to your skin,“was a last resort. I know it looks bad, really bad, and that it probably seems so—so stupid compared to what you face and—”

His voice is barely a whisper. “It’s not stupid.”

You scrunch your nose. The normal, goofy Wally you’d just gotten caught in a rainstorm with is gone, and you’d give anything to bring him back right now. 

“You don’t have to be a superhero to be hurt, y/n.” He clasps your hand tightly. “I know I joke a lot but I am capable of being serious. Especially when the people I love are concerned.”

He looks at you so intensely when he says the word love that it sends shivers down your spine. You can’t bear to meet his gaze. His hands find your waist, tugging you to sit between his legs. It scares you how easily you settle into him, how well you fit together.

You sit in silence for a moment, letting the beat of his racing heart thump against your back.

“I can’t stand to see you hurt, or know that you were hurt. Emotionally, physically, whatever.”

“I’m doing okay now,” you offer him a weak smile. “It’s rough sometimes, but I’m okay now.”

His shoulders slump slightly, but his jaw remains clenched in an un-Wally way. You can’t help but wish in this moment that you could have his powers, if only so you could run to the past and stop this from happening.

“You could’ve told me. I might have made a few stupid jokes but you could’ve told me. God, I want you to tell me. I want you to want to tell me.”

“Wally.”

“I want to help you, y/n. Always. Please,” he sighs, “please, want my help. Let me make you want my help.”

And for a moment, you see a glimpse of an awkward teenager. You see a yellow costume and a scared kid just trying his best to help people. To save people. You see sleepless nights and the burden of a power that makes him both the fastest man alive, but never fast enough to save the people who matter most to him. To save you.

“I just don’t know where to start,” you admit quietly.

He wraps his arms tighter around you, crushing your body against his. “You start here. You start today. You start with me.”

You cross your arms over his in what you hope is a gesture of affection. 

“Say the word,” he leans in so his mouth is only inches from your ear, his voice dropping an octave, “and I’ll be there for you as soon as you need me. Ask for my help and I’ll be there in, well, a flash.”

You can’t help but laugh at his pun. It’s dumb and silly and so unserious for such an uncomfortable, serious moment. But it’s Wally and it’s you and his joke has you thinking that maybe, maybe things really can be okay.

“I care about you so much. All I want is for you to be happy. Got it?”

“Got it,” you echo.

He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head before loosening his grip on you, rising to his feet. He offers you a hand, helping you stand up.

“Now,” he grins, “let’s say we forget the pants, and order in some breakfast, hm?”

thanks so much for reading! ^^

masterlist | dc masterlist

[astermath]

hiya! i’m a really big fan of your stranger things work and I was wondering, if youre comfortable of course, a steve x reader period imagine where reader tried to hide their period from Steve, but he finds out and is super fluffy and sweet about it? thank you!

HAHAH wow i have let this ask stew in my inbox since last year thats CRAZY im so sorry my dear,, i was going through old asks and i rlly like this prompt actually so here u go, i hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, obv mentions of periods / menstruation, reader is referred to as female, steve being dense at first lol, regular sized font below!

wc: 1.4K

notes: while the reader in this fic is female, i am well aware not everyone who has a period is a girl, and not everyone who's a girl has a period!

Steve is one attentive boyfriend.

It’s the early stages of your relationship, the golden era, the honeymoon phase. And while you’re a still a bit nervous about it all, you couldn’t be happier, because he does it all right.

He knows your favourite snacks, what music you like, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He’s starting to figure out your ins and outs, and it’s almost crazy how quickly he’s catching on. You have no reason to feel judged by him at any point, he truly is comfort poured into the shape of a person.

So then why are you staring at your phone right now, struggling to dial his number and just tell him why you can’t make it to your date?

It’s not usually this bad, at least it hadn’t been for a while, so why now, of all moments, must you be forsaken to be terrorised by your period?

You bite your lip, laying flat onto your bed, hand over your lower stomach. It's right where the pain is just gnawing at you, just like the guilt is. But you know you’d feel even guiltier if you just stood him up, he doesn’t deserve that. You sit up, a tad slowly to save yourself from another cramp, and swallow your nerves for now.

“I’ll just… Tell him I’m sick. Yeah… Yeah I can do that.” You think to yourself.

The combination of his number had started to feel natural to your fingers now, unlike how anxiously you pressed the buttons the first time, triple checking before finally pressing call. You're triple checking again now, more so because you're not sure you can handle hearing the defeat in his voice when you tell him you can't make it.

The phone barely gets a moment to ring before he picks it up, and his all too familiar sweet voice comes through the device.

"Hey babe, everything okay over there?"

You pause a moment before replying. "How did you know it was me calling?"

"Lover's intuition." He chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter. It's not fair how easy it is for him to do that to you, but you enjoy it nonetheless. "So, what's going on?"

"I, uh..." God, getting the words out is like pulling teeth. But you'd rather die than let him think you just got cold feet about your movie date. "I'm really not feeling too well right now, Steve... I'm-- I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight." Your eyes are welling up with tears before he even gets a chance to reply, just imagining his pretty face losing its bright expression when hearing your unfortunate news.

"Oh," damnit, he does sound sad, "that's okay, uhm... Is there anything I can do? What kinda sick is it?"

Shit, he's gonna make you say it, isn't he? You know Steve is a mature guy, he knows about periods, knows how they work, but you've been told to suck it up and get on with it before... A part of you is still disappointed that you just can't.

"U-Uhm... It's more like, a stomach thing, I guess?" It's the best way you can put it for now, hoping it'll put his worries to rest.

"Okay, I see..." You can nearly hear him thinking, the subtle noise of bags being moved and a fridge being opened coming through the phone. "Uh, how aboouuut... I come over to yours, and we just watch a movie at home? I still got a couple of tapes we haven't gotten to, and I can bring some light snacks that won't upset your stomach too much."

The thought of Steve caring for you while you're sick sends a warm feeling through your entire body. God, how does he just keep getting better? But you can't lie to him, right? It's not like you're really sick, unless you count the curse of menstruation as a symptom.

Before you get a chance to explain, he's talking again, and by the ruckus in the background you can only guess he's rushing to grab all his stuff. "I'll be heading out in a bit, I'll stop by the corner store too, stay put for me alright? See ya in a bit!"

You're sure he didn't realize he wasn't letting you talk, but frankly, you probably couldn't even come up with a response on time anyways. Right now, you just have to worry about looking somewhat presentable, and maybe figure out a way to tell him you're not actually sick.

By the time you've brushed your hair and brushed some mascara onto your lashes, you're already hearing the doorbell. You just manage to pull a fresh shirt over your head, before stumbling down the stairs and stopping in front of the door. With a deep, loaded, sigh you open it, to reveal your boyfriend.

Hair messed up, plastic bag in hand, jacket haphazardly thrown on. He clearly rushed to be here, still panting a little, but in your eyes, he's the image of your guardian angel, your saviour in need.

Before either of you know it, you're crying again, your freshly applied mascara now leaving thin black streaks over your cheeks. Your hands go up to cover your face, embarrassed, not even sure why you're sobbing all of a sudden. The feelings just hit you like a freight train, rocking you before you even have a time to rationalize.

Steve's expression falters, the bag he had in hand dropping to the floor in an instant, stepping in closer so he can carefully wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. Not too tight, he doesn't want to startle you. He's a bit distraught; he's really only seen you cry at a sad movie scene before, so he's a bit unsure as to what's caught you to be so upset right now.

"I-I'm sorry..." you manage to mutter through your incoherent sobs and sniffs, effectively ruining the front of his shirt in the process.

"Hey, hey..." His big hands go up to your face, gently cupping your wettened cheeks as he looks into your teary eyes. Hell, the image of you is almost enough to make him break too. "What're you sorry for? You can't help it that you're sick, right?"

The reminder of your lie makes you want to break eye contact in shame, but it's hard to force yourself to lose sight of that soft, caring gaze of his.

"I," sniff, "I lied, I'm so sorry Steve, I-- I'm not sick, I just... I have..."

He watches you expectedly, not upset, just curious. You'd surely have your reasons if whatever caused you to cancel is making you this upset.

"I'm... I'm just on my period and it-- it hurts really bad, it's not even usually this bad, and I felt like I was overreacting and I feel so bad and--" Your ramble gets cut short by his chuckle, the same one that nearly caused you to melt over the phone earlier.

"W-Wha... Why are you laughing?" You're not sure if you should be happy or worried, you're already experiencing so much at once, it's hard to pick one emotion to feel.

"Nothing, it's just, well," he picks up the bag he dropped, opening it slightly to show the bars of chocolate, candy and your favorite chips inside. "I had a feeling."

The sight of it makes you snap out of your state of distress, and you can’t help but crack a smile through your tears. “Seriously? How?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “I told you, lover’s intuition.” He pulls you back to him and kisses your head. “There’s another bag in the car with chicken soup in case I was wrong.”

You both laugh, just hugging on your doorstep for a moment. You have to let it sink in, that maybe Steve just is that sweet and considerate of a guy.

“D’you wanna go inside, or does standing outside help with cramps?” He pulls back a little, and you fight the urge to poke him in the ribs for his sarcasm. You love it either way.

“Yeah, let’s go inside. We can watch When Harry Met Sally and I can cry my eyes out again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

-

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-

-

-

-

[elllisaaa]

heyheyhey~ just saw that you want your inbox to come alive again, so here i am! i just had this nasty thought of heeseung, shy, gentle, timid heeseung being nervous around you. he's never beat his meat before and is kinda embarrassed about being inexperienced in this field. so you decided to help him, throwing him into the world of pure pleasure. heeseung gets so overwhelmed but obsessed with it..

BLESSED - L. HEESEUNG

-> pairing : inexperienced!heeseung x fem!reader

-> words count : 1.4k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sub!heeseung & dom!reader, teasing, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, dry humping, use of 'good boy', mention of oral (f. receiving), begging

+ the way i'm depicting heeseung does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> author's note : yes omggg i love loser/inexperienced!enha it's literally my favourite concept ever i'm so glad i'm the only one to be thinking about it ! might have an idea for a full fic because of this too 😏 sorry i went a little overboard but the thought drove me crazy. hope you'll like it !

-> masterlist | enha masterlist

INEXPERIENCED!HEESEUNG who so badly wants to have his first time but who cannot, for the life of him, talk to a girl without losing his composure. he's so fucking awkward that at this point, he's convinced that he's going to end his last year of college without having done more than makeout with a stranger at a frat party.

INEXPERIENCED!HEESEUNG who is kinda obsessed with you. you're one of sunghoon's friend, but you're also the prettiest girl he's ever seen. his thoughts are innocent at first - he wants to take you out on a date, hold your hands and be your boyfriend. but the more he sees you, the more perverted he gets. heeseung constantly thinks about fucking you, about seeing you naked and sucking on your tits. it's disgusting and he knows it, but he can't help it.

INEXPERIENCED!HEESEUNG who, despite his obvious attraction to you, cannot talk to you or hold your gaze for more than a few seconds. everytime he crosses your eyes, his cheeks heat up and he's so nervous he stumbles over his words every so often. he's pathetic, and he knows it, and there's no hope that you'll ever look his way and want him as much as he wants you.

but despite what heeseung thinks, you find him cute - it's cute how anxious he is around you, and how he can't help but stare at you during your shared classes or when you see him from afar at one of the parties his friends drag him too. you think he's cute, and you're only waiting for him to make a move on you, because all you want is to jump his bones.

"i've never fucked anyone." all the people in the circle scoff at the question one of the girls asked, a little too innocent to your taste as everyone in the circle drinks except for one person. everyone is already drunk, and no one except you notices that heeseung didn't take a sip of the cup in front of him, his cheeks getting even more red as he notes that you saw that.

"so you're a virgin ?" the question is thrown at him so suddenly, heeseung jumps and turns around to discover your silhouette hugged by a tight, black dress, leaning against the door of the kitchen. you're alone with him, and you're asking him that ? his brain immediately stops working despite his embarrassment. "i… uh… yeah. if you're here to make fun of me-" - "not at all, heeseung, i'm not that cruel." you interrupt him as you slowly get closer to him. heeseung wants to ask you what you want from him, but he feels a little dizzy from the alcohol he drank and from your presence alone, in the same room as him, your body so close to his you're almost touching. but your next words are what really send him into a coma : "i want to help you."

his eyes open wide, mouth hanging open for so long you lightly chuckle, and the sound makes heeseung's heart beat faster. but what truly amaze him is your hand coming up to caress his cheek. and he can't believe this is real and not a dream. "don't look at me like that, it seems like i told you something awful." - "n-no ! it's just… i…" but heeseung can't find any words to describe the way he's already half hard in his pants at the mere suggestion of you and him in the same bed. "don't you want me to teach you how to make me cum ? don't you want to fuck me ? i'm not blind, baby, i see the way you're checking me out all the time." heeseung is torn between being ashamed that you were aware of his perverted behaviour all this time, or being even more turned on by your proposal. "so, do you want me to teach you everything or not ?" - "fuck, yes, i do."

you lead heeseung upstairs to one of the rooms of the frat that he doesn't recognize but at this point he doesn't care because you're already pushing him down to sit on the bed, straddling his thighs. heeseung looks at you like you're a goddess, and you smile down at him when he hesitates on where to put his hands. you grab his wrists and guide his hands to land on your ass. as if you awakened something in him, heeseung squeezes the soft flesh over your clothes, making you gasp. "good boy. you're a quick learner." - "tell me and i'll do anything."

heeseung is anxious, but the adrenaline of having his crush, the girl of his dream, the most gorgeous woman on the world sitting on his lap and devouring his mouth is taking over him. he can't help but feel pathetic at the way he's moaning in your mouth as you're grinding against his already rock hard dick. "sure that's your first time, hee ?" - "yeah, why ?" - "you're good kisser, think you could really eat me out well with a little bit of practice." heeseung invonluntarily buck his hips up against you, whining against your lips at the mere mention of your wet cunt in his mouth. but for now, you only want to give him the time of his life.

"take off your clothes, baby. you're gonna let me fuck you, right ?" heeseung never answered "yes" so quickly in his life, making you giggle as you watch him fight with his sweater to get out of it. he is so excited that the embarrassment is slowly dying. when he lays back down on the bed, you have gotten rid of your dress, only left with your black underwear and heeseung is already drooling over your body. if someone had told him that he would see you half naked this morning, he would've told them that they were crazy.

"you're perfect, fuck…" - "thank you. you look good too, hee. never thought you could hide such a body underneath all these clothes, uh ?" his cheeks turn bright red again as you praise him - at least, all these hours spent at the gym are worth it now - and start to run your fingers along his skin. you smirk at seeing the shivers come alive on his body and his cock twitch at the soft contact.

as you're getting out of your underwear, heeseung still has the mind to ask you about protection. "wait, wait ! i-i don't have any condoms on me." he looks away, and you laugh at how red he is. you cup his face to direct his gaze back at yours. "if you're okay with that, you can fuck me raw, hee." heeseung has to close his eyes and bite his lips not to moan at the mention of feeling your pussy without any barrier. "please, please, let me have you like that." - "no need to beg baby, you're gonna have me."

you get on top of him, sliding your pussy against his cock to get him all wet with your slick. it is something straight out of his wildest fantasies - to have you lining up his dick to your hole and sinking down on him. "f-fuck ! you're so tight… feels so good…" the smirk stretching out your lips at seeing him gone already is even more sexy to him. you are going to have so much fun with him, that's for sure.

"i'm gonna move, yeah ?" heeseung nodded, his hands resting on your waist but not guiding you in any way. you slowly start to rock your hips back and forth, and the boy underneath you immediately moans, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warm hole swallowing his dick. he never imagined that he could have the girl of his dreams, bouncing on his dick. but here he is, and it feels so good he wonders why he waited so long to lose his virginity.

"please, please, please…" heeseung is begging, but he doesn't even know what he's begging for anymore. he's lost in the feeling of your wet cunt, of your tits bouncing in front of his face and of your little whimpers. "you're so big, hee. filling me up so well." your nasty words are all he needs to cum deep inside of you, painting your walls white with a broken cry of your name.

"you're good ?" - "fuck, yeah." heeseung answers with a content sigh. he already knows that he will never get enough of you, but now he needs to return the favor, needs to show you that he's willing to fulfill your desires too. "can i eat you out ? please, teach me." you look down at him with a smirk. his eagerness is definitely turning you on and you are sure that with some practice, he will become very good at pleasing you and only you.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

enha taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@bbgnyx @hann1bee @snouvllvg @puppy-minnie @binniesbabygirl @foxinnie8

[certified-sleep-deprived]

Hi

I hope you're doing well

I don’t know if your requests are open but if there are

I was wondering if you could write for Agatha Harkness x reader. Maybe Agatha finds reader humping against a pillow and smut

tysm <3

Pillow Humping

Hi anon! This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I apologize. I hit a huge creative block and I just haven't felt like doing anything, but I'm slowly crawling out and trying to get to the requests piling in my inbox. This was kinda buns so I'm sorry. My requests are always open unless specifically stated otherwise :D

Wc: 1.4k+

Warnings/notes: Top Agatha, bottom reader, r is sexually frustrated because her wife is away for a week, pillow humping, fingering (r receiving), mommy kink, slight degrading (a calls r a whore), cunnilingus, legal age gap (all characters over 18), 18+ NSFW under the cut!

This entire week has been absolute hell.

Your wife, Agatha, had been away on a trip for her job in Chicago with the promise of making it up to you as soon as she got back. But, in her words, “You are under no circumstance to touch yourself while I am away, or Mommy will have to punish you”. And this had made the entire week a slump before she even left.

Oh, it probably didn't help that she would call you at night and would be masturbating over the phone so nonchalantly you could be fooled she wasn't playing with her clit while she had the phone on speaker next to her.

By the second call, you couldn't even concentrate on her voice anymore. All you could hear was the visceral sounds of her fingering herself or using the dildo she fucks you with when she dons her strap.

It was pure fucking torture.

You had managed to not touch yourself the entire week, but you've had enough at this point. Your wife would continue to taunt and tease you, and you needed relief fast. Agatha's actions had you too pent up and sexually frustrated to even function on your own work, and it showed in your performance.

So, you know what you said? Fuck it.

Fuck her rules. Just this once can't hurt, right?

The air in your shared bedroom with her buzzed with arousal and pent-up desire. Your eyes flickered to her pillow beside your head, and the idea you had already made your loins hot and sticky. If you couldn't fuck her, then her pillow was the next best thing around.

Maybe you were a tad bit excited at the prospect because you scrambled out of those blankets and shucked your sleep pants, having forgone underwear for the evening all together.

As you grabbed her pillow, all you could smell was the lingering traces of her conditioner. Even after a week of her absence it still carried that familiar scent of jasmine and coconut she loved so much. The pillow slotted in between your legs, and you slowly lowered your hips to glide your folds along the seam. But you must have been really sensitive from a week of orgasm denial because when your clit connects with the seam, an obscene moan flies from your throat. It's loud enough that you don't even hear the front door open and close downstairs.

Agatha had gotten home early from her work trip and wanted to surprise her darling wife by fucking her thoroughly in their bed. She wanted to make the night about you as an apology for having to go away for so long. But you can imagine the older woman's surprise when she finds said wife humping a pillow–failing miserably may I add–which went against her rules of not touching herself.

And, Agatha realized, it wasn't just any pillow on the bed that you were humping; it was one of hers. You were humping her pillow. The pillow she slept on every night.

The sight was arousing as much as it was infuriating. No pillow could make you fall apart like she can. She's the real deal, and she was going to make sure you knew that.

First, her baby girl broke one of her rules, and second, she was trying to get off on her pillow. A fucking pillow. This wasn't going to fly with her at all. She finally broke your chain of frustrated grunts and moans with a taunt.

“Well, well, well. What is this?” She tsks. “An impatient wife of mine who is too much of a whore that she can't even wait for Mommy to come home?” Her face mimics an expression of mock hurt.

“And here I thought I could surprise you by coming home early.”

Her footsteps fall silent on the bedroom carpet as she stalks to the foot of the bed like she was caging in her prey.

It wasn't too far from the truth.

Once her voice had broken you from your incessant humping of her pillow, you knew you were absolutely fucked. You were caught breaking one of her rules and she was going to punish you.

She crawls on the bed and yanks the pillow out from between your bare legs, throwing it somewhere behind her and onto the floor.

You scramble up the bed until your back hits the headboard behind you, and apologies spill from your mouth.

“Agatha, I'm so sorry, I-”

“Is that how you address me?” She huffs and takes your hair in one of her hands, yanking your head close enough you could feel the humidity of her breath on your face.

“You fucked up, and I want you to address me properly, you brat. Who am I?”

She grabs your chin, not tightly, but firm enough that you can't turn your gaze away from hers. Agatha's eyes burn like a blazing inferno, but not out of rage. Her eyes reflect that of a woman who was equally pent-up with desire as you had been the past week. And the cerulean of her irises are nearly blown out by how dilated her pupils were.

“I'm sorry, Mommy. I tried to be a good girl!”

Your wife huffs in mock disbelief, and you can still smell the lingering traces of Starbucks on her breath. It's a smell you know so well due to how often you find her slaving away in the office downstairs.

“If you were a good girl, then you would have known better than to touch yourself, pet.”

She pulls you down by your thighs from the headboard slightly so your head is resting on the pillows. Her fingers softly glide and dance over your inner thighs, always stopping just short of your soaked folds before gliding back down. It was torture, and she knew what she was doing. She was the master of puppets, and by puppets, you were the only one stringed up in her web.

You roll your hips down to try and catch her hands, desperate for any sort of friction on your throbbing core.

“Mommy, please! Need your fingers inside of me!”

She smirks and trails her fingers to just grazing along your folds, and the ghostly touch makes your hips jump up.

“Do you think you deserve it? After all, you were a bad girl and broke one of Mommy's rules.”

A frustrated whine left your lips as she straddles your hips to keep you from squirming.

“Please, Mommy! I'll be a good girl. I promise!”, you whimper. It was an act of pure desperation, but it seemed to be enough for her because as soon as those words leave your mouth, her eyes darken and swirl with a hunger only you know you can satisfy. Her breathing is shallow and ragged as those same hungry eyes rake over your form, and she shimmies down your body until her face is eye-level with your groin.

You hook your thighs on her shoulders as her tongue delves in between your folds, licking a hot stripe up from your entrance to your clit, swirling circles around it, and then pulling away.

Her fingers replace her tongue only a moment later, pumping in and out of your quivering hole, desperate to bring you to your peak.

She wanted to punish you, but when she was sexually pent up for an extended period of time and then had you begging like that? She couldn't. Agatha needs this as much as you do.

Your g-spot was constantly being bumped by her fingers, the stimulation from it, and your overall neediness were bringing you to the edge faster than you expected. It was like a tsunami slowly rolling into the beach.

Agatha took note of this and navigated her mouth back to your clit to bring you over the waterfall. This woman always drank up your reactions and thrived to see you tumble over the precipice.

She was so consumed by your impending orgasm that she didn't even realize you had cum until she felt it gush all over her mouth. Her chin and mouth were dripping with the aftermath of said orgasm, and it only fueled her.

“Let me go get a towel to clean–” you start to move to the bathroom, but your wife stops you. She has a certain glint in her eyes, one that you're accustomed to by now.

“No,” she says firmly. “Its been too long since I've had you.” Agatha begins to undo her pants, and while she pushes them down, you can hear the unreleased desire in her voice as she speaks.

“It's Mommy's turn now.”