#ALSO I had one to check my expenses and though it's an old one it still looks very neat!!!

[doli-nemae]

behold the most useful thing in the world

table with timeline and my characters from SWTOR

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

slowly, i'm going down

access full masterlist here!

pairing: song mingi x reader (no pronouns mentioned, reader has female anatomy)

au/genre: college!au, tutor!reader, mingi does not give a shit about studying, smut

word count: 4816 words

warnings: voice kink (AHHHHH), oral and fingering (reader receiving), reader is a little mean, kitchen sex, anime references, cringe, a joke about adhd, dirty talk... um..., oh right Mingi has a big dick (wbk), everyone's a little silly, unprotected sex (boo ‼️👎🏻), premature ejaculation almost, creampie, cum eating... (not reader...), i think that's it. NOT PROOF READ YET!!

synopsis: mingi hates studying, but what he hates way more than that is being perceived as stupid. what mingi loves on the other hand, are pretty people getting flustered about his voice

or

mingi shows you exactly what he hates and loves.

a/n: i was almost ready when i saw this tiktok and it completely blocked my mind because it's SO FUNNY, but at the same time, it's men being dudes, dudes being bros, and that kind of made it hard for me to continue. i apologize for the 24h delay 😞

taglist: @byuntrash101 @goquokka @ashwoodforest @choisansnotsolegalwife

Mingi is not one to sit there and look at books. Or papers. Or anything that doesn't move and feed his brain with bright colors and his ears with noises, really. He prefers to vibe, and studying is definitely not the vibe. Sadly, studying is a part of his life as a university student. Yes, he chose this path for himself and yes, he was aware that it would involve studying. Still, now that it's really happening and is not just an obstacle to overcome in the far, far future, Mingi kind of wishes he'd chosen something else to do with his life. It's just exhausting, why would he waste the precious time he has left on planet earth on something that doesn't get the serotonin floating? He's pretty sure he has some undiagnosed ADHD simmering up there, but who is he to judge that? He's certainly not studying to become a doctor or whatever.

Anyway, given the fact that Mingi doesn't like to study, he's not had much experience with it in the first place. He's barely gotten his way through school, but uni is a different level. Hence, he needs someone to 1) teach him how to study and 2) make him study, or rather: have a judging eye on him while he is supposed to study, so the fear of being called out on it may light a fire under his ass and force him to bury his nose between the stinky pages of an old library book (on that note: he also needed someone to show him how to check out books from the library).

And that's why you are here, every Thursday afternoon, sitting at the sad excuse of a kitchen counter slash dining table in Mingi's scandalously expensive apartment given its size, growling next to him every time you catch him analyzing the bumps on his wallpapers instead of the letters on the pages.

Mingi generally likes you, even though you are a bit scary, he has to admit, or maybe that's the appeal. You are polite, but you have a way of looking at him that makes him feel like he's getting mansplained by your eyes. Your taunting gaze on him makes him feel small, and he doesn't like that at all. It makes him feel like all these years of drinking milk to make him stand at the 1.84m he is at today were in vain. You always have that one expression on your face, and maybe that's just Mingi's subconsciousness telling him to STUDY HARD FOR GOD'S SAKE, but in the way your eyebrows would scrunch together just the tiniest bit, he reads: God, he is fucking stupid.

He doesn't know which (since he did not pay attention in biology class, nor is he even sure they teach that in biology class) chemical in his brain suffers an allergic reaction every time you look at him like that, but there has to be one. There is nothing that Mingi hates more than being called stupid. Well, except for studying, maybe.

Call him lazy, call him a scalawag, call him witty for being able to get through all of school without reading a single one of the set books if you must, but do not call him stupid.

The only problem is that you haven't, well, called him stupid per se. It's just how Mingi interprets your stares. Also, he desperately needs you because he doubts there will be many other contestants that are okay with getting paid as little as you are (which is all Mingi has left by the end of a month full of Pokémon trading cards). So Mingi just has to sit back and relax and simply take it because, apparently, that's what he gets for not studying his entire life.

A loud ringing wakes Mingi from his peaceful afternoon nap - one that he has really earned this time around, he managed to look through his study notes for a full 20 minutes during his lunch break!

Disoriented, Mingi raises his head to make out his location and what year he is in. It rings again. Slowly, Mingi recognizes the shrill sound as his door bell. He slowly gets up, a quick glance in the mirror tells him that his hair is an absolute mess (which is really a crowning achievement given his buzz cut length) and he has imprint marks from his blanket all over his right cheek, but his sleepy mind doesn't even take it in. Mingi furrows his brows and shakes his head. Who would dare to disturb his peaceful slumber at this ungodly hour (4pm)?

The answer, of course, stands right in front of his door. With your arms crossed and the tip of your shoe drumming a dent into Mingi's "come in if you're a silly baka"-door mat, you raise an unimpressed brow at the sleepy shell of Mingi that blinks one eye after the other.

A few seconds pass until Mingi finally realizes who you are, and his mouth forms an 'o'-shape. Immediately after, he furrows his brows once again, his body slumping forward a bit because: why on God's green earth are you here? Then, it hits him like a truck, the aftermath of the collision blowing the remaining sleep out of his eyes: it's Thursday afternoon!

"Sorry," he says and sheepishly scratches the back of his head, then steps aside to let you enter.

"It's fine, it's only freezing cold outside," you stare at him before stepping in, shudder as you kick your shoes off, slip into Mingi's guest slippers and hurry inside. Mingi's brain does not register the sarcasm drenching your words.

"Let's get to it, shall we?" You ask as Mingi finally manages to follow you into the kitchen. You sit, take out a few sheets of paper from your backpack, then look over questioningly as Mingi has not even moved a millimeter, but instead started yawning like his life depends on it. Your eyes drift down his body. "Or maybe after you've put on some pants?"

Mingi freezes, looks down to confirm that, indeed, he's not wearing pants, but Naruto boxer shorts, then covers his crotch with his hands and buzzes off into his room.

Minutes later, Mingi reenters the kitchen, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips that, yes, he checked twice if he's wearing them the right way around. As mentioned, he is generally unable to properly focus on his studies, but today, it's exceptionally bad. Of course, you'd notice.

"Mingi, are you okay?" There's worry in your eyes – a sight Mingi has not seen. Ever.

"I'm fine, just tired," he mumbles, eyes unfocusing as he stares ahead.

"Yeah, you are? Why?" Mingi's tired mind cannot question why you suddenly seem so interested in his well-being. He also doesn't put any meaning into why you're scooting closer to him, your forearm accidentally touching his.

"I studied during my lunch break," Mingi informs you, a little, proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Something tingles inside his chest as you carefully place your hand on his arm. As he looks over at you, you smile at him, and he notices your gaze flickering down to his lips for a second.

Hold on. Mingi's mind suddenly snaps out of its hazy state and works on overdrive. He might be the type to vibe, the type to just let things play out, but he'd be damned if he didn't notice when someone likes him like that. He suddenly notices the way you started creating skin-on-skin contact with him, the way you want to be closer to him, eyeing him even more than you ever did before. Just... why? Is it because you saw him in his Anime panties?

A few moments pass, and you sit back, then pat your pencil against the book to remind him of the reason why you're actually here. Mingi groans, admittedly a little dramatically and unreasonably erotic, brushing a hand through his hair to flex his biceps right in front of your face. You seem unimpressed.

"Well, fuck me," he chuckles deeply, the rasp in his voice more evident than usual due to his nap. It's then when you tense, he notices from the corner of his eye. Oh. Okay. So it's the voice?

"I'm really glad you're tutoring me, you know?" He purrs, throwing in a little praise to get you extra bothered, and you simply breathe out nervously.

"Heh, no worries," you brush him off. Mingi decides that, for now, he's made you suffer enough and keeps quiet. Instead, he focusses on his studies, although he's already planning his next step to terrorize you with the sultry rasp his vocal cords are gifted with.

"Mingi, focus-"

"No, I get what I have to do, the contents just won't stay in my head." Mingi reasons, his voice unusually, but not by chance, high pitched, eyebrows scrunched as to why the hell he has to do this before doing that only to do whatever next when it wasn't like this for the other exercise he had to do minutes prior. He is not stupid (!), he does understand how this works. It's just that it doesn't make sense, and that is surely not his fault.

"Are you stup-" you start, but shut your mouth before you're even able to call him the dumbest fucker you've ever crossed paths with. Mingi inhales sharply. Oh, oh, you're lucky he is patient, and you're lucky he knows that as soon as he growled a few dirty words into your ear, you'd slam your upper body on the counter without regards of caution, pushing your panties down under your skirt and begging him to take you right there - or at least, that's what he imagines.

Yes, Mingi is super patient, that's just what comes with the entire vibe-personality package, so he does not dump your cute sorry ass on his baka-door mat, but simply closes his pen, lays it on the table and looks at you. A fabulous idea plops into his mind.

"God," he groans as deeply as he can, stretching his arms over his head, "I guess I'm just a little" - he throws in a little moany sigh - "a little distracted today."

"A-are you?" You nod, biting your lip subconsciously. Mingi looks at you without moving his head. "Why?"

"Well, just stuff, you know?" Mingi enjoys how the rumble in his voice makes his throat and - obviously - you feel. "There's just a lot, going on. Like big... big stuff. Stuff that just keeps coming and coming, in and out, just like that. Ugh, I wish I could just let all this frustration out you know, all this pent up stuff." He watches for your reaction.

Unmistakably, your hand holding your own pen in a relaxed manner mere seconds ago now desperately grasps the poor objects until your knuckles turn white, your breathing is uneven and loud as if you'd just ran the entire way from Mingi's place to the next convenience store (seriously, why the fuck is he paying so much for this godforsaken apartment?). And - Mingi's favorite reaction to him ever: you're pressing your thighs together.

Oh, how Mingi loves himself a good reaction like this.

"Big stuff, huh?" Your voice trembles as your nervous eyes search for his. "H-how big?"

"Oh, really big. Just really fucking big," Mingi confirms with a slight smirk. He loves how you just fold easily like that. One second, you're over there feeling superior on your little throne of knowledge that Mingi lacks, and the next, you're making a little mess in your panties just because Mingi so much as spoke. Absolutely incredible. People should start calling him "the rizzler".

"I think-" you clear your throat, "I think I should head home then?"

Mingi smiles to himself as soon as you turn away to pack your stuff into your backpack. His hands automatically reach out to play with his pen, his long, slender fingers toying with the object, inevitably drawing your attention to the movements. "Already?"

"Mhm." You stare a second too long, gulp, then hastily stuff your belongings into the big compartment of the backpack, Mingi listens to the sweet melody of stressed breathing and papers crunching.

As amused as he is, he decides that it is time for the big reveal.

"Keep it in your pants, baby" he looks over, his eyebrow halfway raised, and stops rocking back and forth and fiddling with the pencil as you freeze in your tracks and stop packing. "What?"

Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. "So you know?" You manage to squeak.

Mingi smugly pushes his tongue into his cheek. He loves how you're basically vibrating out of nervousness. "Oh, I know."

You sigh, hands finally letting go of your stuff and motioning defeat. He wonders what's going on in your mind right now. Are you afraid he's going to call you out? That he's going to make fun of you? That he's going to call you a needy slut and send you home? Or are you wondering if he's going to give you what you want? Mingi loves this game.

That's why he decides to make your situation a little more miserable.

"I also know that you think I'm stupid," he explains calmly, trying his best to no longer show any excitement, smugness, or any emotion whatsoever on his sharp facial features to really confuse you. Well, that's what you're getting for (almost) calling The Song Mingi stupid. Just a little payback, is all. He's not going to go so far and make you cry. No, no, Mingi can't handle when people cry, much less so if it's because of him.

Nevertheless, your breath hitches. Oh, you're fully aware that he didn't like you calling him that at all. Oh, how the gears are turning behind your forehead as you're trying to figure out what's going on, and what's going to go on in the next minutes.

"Thought so," Mingi deadpans. Yeah, that's right. Look how smart he is now! Super smart! He's got you all figured out. He knows exactly what to say and how to act to make you feel - and, fuck, does this feel like redemption - stupid.

"I'm sorry-" you start, back facing Mingi's form, but Mingi is not here for it. Mingi has gotten what Mingi wants. Mingi feels as powerful as he imagines a lion to feel, like, every day.

"Dumb fucks good," he simply states, just putting it out there, throwing it into the room for you to do with that statement whatever you like. Mingi's mind is already satisfied, his ego stroked because he's just proven that he isn't dumb. Although... he wouldn't mind a little diddling because, if he's being honest, you're hot as fuck and seeing you react to him in this way- well, he's also just a man!

"What?" You probably think you must've terribly misheard him as you whip your head around to face the confident Mingi smugly leaned back in his chair. Your eyes meet his, and he is sure that you now realize that, no, you definitely did not mishear him. That was exactly what he said.

In the blink of an eye, Mingi feels your presence on his lap, a last final look into his eyes before he feels your lips against his, desperately chewing away the remaining air separating his spit from yours. It's messy, lips colliding, too much teeth and tongue, but it's all raw and desperate. Mingi gets the vibes that you may have had some pent up want for him, but that's honestly the last clear thought he can muster before you grind your hips against his.

A deep groan escapes Mingi's lips, inevitably echoing against your own quiet gasps that just turn louder with every movement of your hips, your hands frantically trying to touch him everywhere at once to the point where he has to grab your arms and pull you back. Your eyes, wide. And confused, but somehow lidded and hazy at the same time struggle to take in Mingi in front of you. Yes, Mingi is aware of the effect of his siren eyes.

For another moment, he simply enjoys seeing how destroyed you look already, but honestly, there is just one thing on his mind.

"I'm gonna eat you out," he informs, waiting for you to nod frantically, whine and scramble off his lap for him to keep his promise. And you do, allowing Mingi to grab your waist with his large hands and lift you onto the counter. Of course, he can't resist getting another taste of your lips, almost losing himself in the soft pillows that frame your pretty mouth, but the hardness creating a tent in his sweatpants reminds him that he should possible attend a little lower.

Hence, he kisses his way over your cheek towards your jaw, then over your neck and down your collarbones. Mingi is not sure what your opinions on love bites are, so he just hopes you can remember him being right here and here and here even without visual proof, he can save that for next time.

Okay, Mingi admittedly was not able to hold himself back completely, his teeth only gently nipping at your skin on his way down. He simply hopes for the best, but your sounds seem to imply that you do not mind him one bit. Instead, you sound as if you wouldn't mind him taking a few bites more.

Impatient as you are, you assist Mingi in pushing your shirt out of the way, the straps of your bra automatically falling down your shoulders to reveal more of you to his hungry eyes.

And as much as Mingi would like to spend hours playing with your chest, he keeps it down to a minimum, kissing the soft flesh while gently pushing the remaining material out of the way for better access. His lips wrap around a nipple, his hands meanwhile busy with massaging the other and carefully holding your waist. God, Mingi loves boobs. But he might love the way your fingers comb through his hair and gently pull on it a bit more even.

Finally, the time has come, and Mingi kneels down on the floor. Pushing your skirt up, hands caressing your thighs, he creates eye contact with your eyes glazed over by lust and want. It doesn't even faze him that he hasn't cleaned these floors in weeks, honestly, he is in so deep he probably wouldn't even realize if the stove was on, lighting his study notes on fire.

He wants to tease you more, make you wait, maybe make you beg even, but he just feels too hungry to keep waiting. His fingers hook into the hem of your panties, pulling them down your legs as quickly as possible before spreading your legs and groaning in anticipation.

Throwing your thighs over his shoulders, he pulls you forward a little further, chuckling as you almost lose balance and smile at him. Okay, maybe Mingi feels a little tingle, and maybe that is not a horny tingle, but that's something to worry about later, if ever. Right now, he has a mission: dive in.

So that's what he does, obviously, planting a careful kiss right on your clit to wait for your reaction. And you do not disappoint, gasping slightly at the first sensation before getting louder and bolder the more Mingi tastes you.

His tongue gently parts your folds, getting a first taste of your juices. You basically cry out as his tongue prods at your hole, carefully easing its way inside to caress your walls.

Automatically, your hands fly to his hair, gently pulling at the roots to find a way to ground yourself, the feeling assumingely overwhelming, Mingi thinks, not to brag, but-

Mingi's eyes roll back at a particularly hard tug at his hair, paired with the way your hips grind closer until you're basically riding his face. Fuck, how are you so hot? Mingi's fingers grab hard at your thighs, loving the way the soft flesh feels in his hands.

To experiment a little more and, first and foremost, to get more rewarding reactions out of you, Mingi lets his mouth wander back up to your clit, gently sucking the nub between his lips, his tongue carefully flicking as not to overwhelm you. At the same time, a fingers sneaks its way over to circle your entrance.

Your throat coughs out a broken moan at this, your eyes switching between looking at Mingi's eyes and his mouth, and closing completely. Mingi loves taking in the pleasure written all over your face. He might not admit it, but he loves this kind of praise much more than verbal praise because your body really can't lie. He can literally taste how good he is at this.

He finally pushes his finger inside, loving how the wetness and muscle contractions are basically pulling him deeper and deeper until past his second knuckle. He feels around a little, trying to find the spots that seem to appeal to you the most, watching carefully how you react to each and every flick of his wrist.

Although, he feels that one finger is not enough to prepare you for the rest of him, so he adds another, massaging them into the spot that seems to be making you see stars with the way you grip his hair even tighter and mutter something he interprets as a warning that you're about to cum.

Keeping his pace, he successfully sends you over the edge, letting you ride out your high on his tongue before removing his lips, only getting his fingers massage the last clenches out of you.

Looking up he realizes you look, respectfully, wrecked, with your chest heaving, your hair a little messy and your eyes hazy and glossy, parted lips asking for his. And who is he to deny them, as he leans in to allow you to taste yourself. You seem to like it.

Pulling back after a while, he looks at you. You look so happy and relaxed like he's never seen before. For some reason, it reminds him of the weight in his pants that he suddenly feels the need to inform you about.

"You make me so hard," Mingi says lowly, carefully taking your hand to prove it to you, "feel." It's more your hand guiding his with how fast you reach down to feel him, eager to touch the outline of him through the sweatpants. And as if you're getting paid to stroke Mingi's ego even more, you gasp at his size.

Mingi can't help but smirk, of course, who wouldn't?

"Big stuff, huh?" You repeat your words from earlier, but this time no longer nervous, but cheeky as you bite your lip playfully. Oh, how Mingi would love to make you choke on his dick right now, just a little, and in a loving matter, but he's honestly waited long enough and he really just needs to be in you right now. And besides, Mingi is more in his giving > receiving era.

Instead, he grins. And he feels like there is something more.

Impatiently, you tug at his pants, successfully moving them a millimeter. Mingi helps you push his pants further down until it pools around his ankles. You giggle.

Damnit, Mingi. Why couldn't you've changed your underwear? Mingi mentally scolds himself, a good amount of his previously earned smugness flying out the window. Instead, he gives you kind of a sheepish look.

"I don't mind," you assure, tugging at his anime boxers next, "it's actually relieving to be reminded that you're still the cute, dorky Mingi and are not possessed by a sex demon."

"Incubus," Mingi points out.

"I don't fucking care. Just get this hideous thing off and have sex with me!"

Mingi does not need to be told twice, although he makes a mental note to scold you later for calling the one and only Naruto printed on a piece of fabric shielding his balls from the outside world hideous.

"God, fuck," you let out, and Mingi chuckles at your reaction to his naked lower half, "come here. Please."

You pull him closer, wrap your legs around him and beg him with your eyes. Mingi wastes not another second, aligning himself with your hole and slowly pushing forwards. Your eyes roll back as he enters you, causing you to hold onto him for dear life as he inches inside, filling you completely.

God, must your walls hug him so perfectly? Must you be so unbelievably wet just for him? Must you make these sounds? Mingi feels like he doesn't want to be inside anyone else ever again.

"I feel like I don't want to inside anything else ever again."

How did that get out there?

You chuckle, and have the nerve to pinch his cheek, as if he wasn't balls deep buried inside you right now. "You're so cute."

Cute?!

Mingi will show you cute. He grabs your jaw, admittedly still gently, and makes you look at him as he pulls almost all the way out until his tip catches at your entrance. "Cute?" And he pushes in all the way all at once. You moan, the feeling too much, too intense for you to still keep your eyes open. Helplessly, you cling to Mingi's body as he repeats the action 4 more times before setting a steady rhythm, angling his hips in a way that should stimulate the spot you liked so much earlier.

With your mouth hanging open and your eyebrows scrunched, you look like the prettiest thing Mingi's ever seen. He wants to see you drool, watch you completely lose your mind over nothing else but his cock. At the same time, he is surprised how good it feels. Well, not surprised that it feels good, but that it feels abnormally good, like he's about to nut in the next minute or so. Hopefully, he's able to coax another high out of you before that.

"What was it that riled you up so much earlier? My voice?" He growls, and you as much as whimper in return. "Yeah, like it that my voice is so deep?" You nod pathetically. "Cute."

"Mingi- 's so good."

"Yeah, am I fucking you good?" Mingi grins and you nod weakly, struggling to keep your eyes open. Mingi really shouldn't be the one talking big because honestly, he feels like if u moan one more time, if ur walls clench around him one more time, he is going to lose it. Something about this entire situation is just super surreal to him, or maybe it's simply you that is the reason for his premature high that is coming for him with fast steps.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, kissing your cheek before whispering, "can I please cum inside?"

"Shit, y-yes," you confirm, nodding quickly as you fight your hardest battle to keep your eyes open, focused and on the man that's currently grinding his tip into your sweet spot. Mingi feels like he loves you.

Mingi also feels like he's loosing his grip on reality, which is why he grabs your hips harder than before, using his strength to really slam his hips into yours with force, drowning his thoughts with the sounds of your moans. There is nothing on his mind except for you, you, you, and the primal need to make you his.

"Please," he groans, not quite sure what he's begging for, but it doesn't really matter in the end, does it? All that matters is that Mingi's ears catch the way you're begging him to cum for you, to fill you up, to please, please finish inside. He is not going to deny you that wish.

His hips stutter, his mind goes numb as he feels his muscles tighten and contract, releasing deep inside you. The feeling spreads in his body, feeling high and happy with such a forceful orgasm like this one.

Everything after is just a blur in his mind, he just remembers realizing that you didn't cum a second time, and he wouldn't be Mingi if he kept it that way. That's why he found himself back on his knees seconds after pulling out, sucking your clit back into his mouth, tasting his own release that's threatening to drip out if it wasn't for his fast fingers pumping in and out of you to push you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until you do, orgasm fueled by the lewd action of Mingi eating his own cum out of you, he assumes. Somehow, you two end up in his bed after, mostly because Mingi is a cuddler, partly because Mingi is not able to let you go yet. Or ever. Who knows.

© 2023 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[straykeedz]

Thinking about Chan taking you on the backseat on your weekly night drive after you confess some dirty thoughts you have about him

(May I be 🎀 anon??)

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ; 𝐛𝐜

thank you so much for your request, hope you like it! ♡ 🎀 is not free, but you can claim another emoji! check out which emojis are already taken! ♡

𝐭𝐰: female anatomy ; fingering (f receiving) ; handjob (kinda) ; protected sex (shocking, i know) ; clit play ; dirty talking ; they're in love your honour ; ♡

𝐰𝐜: 2,7k ♡

The parking lot is empty - Chan stops the car and turns the engine off. 

“We’re here, baby.”

It’s your favorite time of the week, when you can finally spend some time together and be yourselves - catching up with what’s going on in your life, updating each other about work and other boring, mundane stuff, and also gossiping. You don’t need fancy dinners or eye-catching acts or ridiculously expensive gifts - having milkshakes and donuts in his car, with some music softly playing in the background and his hand on your thigh is more than enough. 

“You didn’t have to pay for all this, you know?” You tell him, pointing at the paper bag in your hands with a nod. 

He chuckles, tonguing his cheek. “It’s just milkshakes and a couple of donuts. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t spoil my girl?”

You roll your eyes at him. “As if you don’t spoil me enough already,” you shake your head. “But really, you don’t have to. You know I feel bad when you pay for my stuff.”

Chan works a part-time job and is also a college grad, which means his finances are a bit… tight, at the moment, and you do feel guilty when he buys you stuff - even if it’s just donuts and a milkshake. It’s not like you don’t try to pay for your things, because you do - he’s just incredibly fast at pulling out his credit card. 

“I love spoiling you, though. Honestly, I’d pay for more of your stuff if I had the money,” he chuckles. “Now let’s drink the milkshakes before the cream melts.”

The moon shines bright up in the sky, lighting up your surroundings delicately. Chan drives you always to the same place and parks the car in the same spot - it’s quiet and intimate, and no one’s ever around. Most of the nights, you’d just chill in his car and just talk about everything and nothing at the same time - other nights, he’d lower your seat and make sweet love to you in his old car, way too small to fit the both of you but hey, at least it’s an excuse to be even closer. Like that time he was all over you, inside of you, with his body pressed tightly on yours - only a soft blanket covering both of your naked bodies as whimpers and moans filled the cramped up space of the small vehicle. 

“Earth to y/n?” Chan giggles, waving his hand in front of your face. You rapidly blink a couple of times and shake your head, finally turning to look at him. “Whatcha thinking of, baby?” 

“Oh…” you blush a little, “nothing in particular.”

“Oh, really?” He teases you, placing his hand on your thigh, stroking it with his thumb. “Because I know you, I know there’s something on your mind.” He comes closer, brushing your nose with his, and you feel his hot breath on your skin. You shiver. 

“There’s nothing on my mind,” you place your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and smiling at him. “‘M just happy to be here, with you.”

“Hm, is that why your face is so red?” He looks into your eyes as he speaks - he always does this when he wants to tease you, and it’s working. “Is it because you’re happy to be here with me?”

His fingers on your thigh, his hot breath on your skin - and he’s so, so close. Just an inch or two away from your lips. You bet he tastes of his strawberry milkshake - you can’t wait to find out if you’re right. 

“I… I was thinking about…” your mouth falls open and your eyes flutter when his lips find your jaw - he starts leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your skin, sometimes running his hot, wet tongue all over it. He chuckles when a tiny yelp leaves your mouth after he sucks on a precise spot on your neck. 

“You were saying?” He breathes against your neck, rubbing circles on your thigh with his thumb. “‘M sorry, I distracted you, baby,” he teases you, but won’t stop kissing you, “you were thinking about…?”

“About what… what happened the last time we were here,” you breathe out at the feeling of Chan’s hand moving up your thigh, closer and closer to the spot between your thighs he knows very well. 

His heart skips a beat, and he feels himself growing harder inside his boxers. “Oh, yeah? And what are you thinking of, exactly? I’m curious now.”

You entangle your fingers in his curly, dark hair, pulling him closer as you finally feel his thumb brush the center of your thigh, right on your clothed clit, just teasing you with the tip of his finger. He brushes your hair from your shoulder, guaranteeing himself more access to your now exposed neck, moaning against your skin. A Chase Atlantic’s song is still playing in the background, and the car windows are slowly fogging up due to yours and Chan’s heavy breathing. 

“I was thinking of your fingers. Of when… of when you touched me,” you mumble, relaxing completely under his touch, “I was thinking that maybe it’d be nice if you…” you tug at his hair, and he grunts against your skin, sucking on your clavicle. 

“If I?” He presses a little bit harder on your clit. 

“If you did it again?” It comes out as a question, and Chan can’t help but smirk at that. 

“Yeah? You want me to touch you here?” Chan mumbles, his fingers moving up to toy with the button of your jeans. You nod, and he undoes it. “What else were you thinking about?” He unzips your fly, revealing a small portion of the fabric of your panties. 

And then, his fingers slip under the waistband of your lace panties, and you gasp. 

“Just-just that…” you try to sound convincing, but your red cheeks and your stuttering are exactly what give you away. 

“Ah, just that… Are you sure?” you hiss when his fingers brush your clit with a delicacy he’s always had towards you - then, he touches your wet entrance, and licks his lips. If the space weren’t so little, he’d already be on his knees eating you out like a starved man until you’re creaming on his tongue. “You’re so wet, oh baby…” you whine when he pushes his middle finger inside. 

“I… there’s other things I think of, sometimes,” you confess, and Chan finally pulls away from your neck to look you in the eye. His lips are swollen, and his pupils are blown. You run your hand up and down his arm, feeling him up and squeezing his muscles. 

“Yeah?” His lips finally brush yours, but he doesn’t kiss you yet, “will you tell me about these things?” Chan asks, and you nod.

When he finally kisses you, you inevitably smile against his lips because yes, his lips truly taste like his strawberry milkshake. He kisses you and kisses you, running his tongue along your lower lip, whimpering when you do the same. Chan adds another finger inside of you, and slowly begins to pump them in and out of you. He nearly jumps in his seatwhen, all of a sudden, he feels your hand on his crotch, palming his erection. 

“I… I think about giving you head. About… wrapping my lips around you,” you mumble on his lips, and Chan’s eyes flutter shut as he rests his forehead on yours - his heart is beating fast inside his chest. 

“Oh, God,” Chan kicks his head slightly back as you start kissing his neck. “What… what else?”

“You…” you slip your hand under the waistband of his dark grey sweats, squeezing him though his boxers, “you fucking me in the backseats. I’m talking - hot, desperate, needy sex. Right here, where e-everyone could see.” 

“Fuck, you want me dead,” he hisses, fucking you a bit faster with his fingers, curling them inside of you and toying with your clit at the same time. “When… when do you think about these things?” 

“When- when I’m getting off,” you admit, and Chan lets out a guttural moan. 

“Yeah?” He squeezes his eyes when your fingers brush the tip of his clothed cock. “You think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Always,” you whimper on his lips. “I always think of you.”

“Me too,” he blurts out in a huff, completely lost in what you two are doing now, “I a-always think of you when ‘m gettin’ off. Always cum so hard, too.” 

Chan is losing his mind, he literally can’t think straight - mostly because there’s no blood left in his brain, but also because you’re so hot and you’re telling him all these filthy things and he’s weak. He wants nothing more than to lift your hoodie and free your pretty tits and take them in his mouth. It’s when you finally touch him properly, freeing him from his boxers and wrapping your fingers around his thickness, that he pulls away abruptly after you’ve stroked him a couple of times. 

“‘M not- ‘m gonna cum if you do that, I swear,” he mumbles, blushing out of embarrassment as he pulls your hand out of his sweats, “I wanna- wanna make love. D’you want to?” 

He’s always so romantic, your Chan. Even if he’s rearranging your guts, he always calls it making love. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I want to,” you kiss him once again, pecking his lips a couple of times. You wrap your hand around his wrist and pull his hand out of your panties. Then, you begin to pull your jeans down your thighs and undress yourself. 

It doesn’t take long before the both of you find yourselves in the backseats - Chan on top of you still fully dressed while you only have your hoodie and your soaked panties on, and he’s palming himself over his boxers.

“Lemme see your tits, please,” he’s almost begging, and he bites his lip when you slowly lift your hoodie and top, revealing your boobs to his eyes. “Oh. Oh, baby. You’re so damn perfect, oh.”

You pull him in for a kiss, but you still feel him fidgeting with his sweats. He slides down the curve of his ass rather quickly, pulling them down enough to free his cock and balls. The car windows are completely fogged up by now, “Moonlight” by Chase Atlantic starts playing. 

“Do you have a condom?” You mumble on his lips, wrapping your fingers around the tip of his cock and stroking him gently, slowly. He shivers under your touch, but still nods at you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he pecks your lips, then stretches his arm to grab his jeans jacket, pulling out a small foil wrapper from one of the pockets. “Don’t wanna put any risk on you,” he kisses the tip of your nose. 

He tears the wrapper open and carefully positions the rubber on his cock, rolling it onto his length in a matter of seconds. Is it weird that you’re turned on by watching him performing such a mundane action? You don’t know, but you can’t tear your eyes off of his hands and, consequently, his hard cock, licking and then biting your lip. He’s between your legs in a matter of seconds, pulling your lace panties to the side and positioning himself at your entrance. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice these,” he mumbles, toying with the hem of your underwear - his favorite. “You’re so hot, baby. Makin’ yourself pretty for me all the time, ‘m so lucky. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, and then he’s pushing himself inside of you. 

A choked moan leaves your lips as you feel him filling you up with his length slowly. He grips your hip as he does, intertwining his fingers with yours as he bottoms out inside of you, letting out a desperate whine because God, he missed this. Not just the sex, he missed feeling you so close. He lifts his own t-shirt too, and then he presses his now bare chest on yours, feeling your skin on his in a way that has his head spinning. When you latch your lips on his neck and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him even closer, he shudders as he starts to move inside of you. 

“Chan…” you mumble on his skin, running your fingers up and down his back. 

“Baby,” he moans as well, thrusting at an excruciatingly slow pace, just to feel you around him - your hole gripping him tight as he fucks into you, hips rocking back and forth ever so gently, but it doesn’t stop the car from rocking as well. 

If anyone were to pass by right now, they’d surely figure out what’s going on - neither of you care. You only care about Chan, and he only cares about you. 

“You feel so- so amazing, baby,” he pulls a couple of strands of hair from your face, looking into your eyes as he continues to fuck you - his eyes are sparkling, there’s a light in them you only see whenever he’s looking at you. “’m so… so lucky you’re mine. My baby.”

“And you’re mine,” you whimper on his mouth, rocking your hips as well to meet his movements. You love him, you love him so much. 

The pace of Chan’s thrusts becomes quicker and quicker - he places the palm of his hand on the fogged up car window, leaving his print there as he angles his hips so that he’s hitting your g-spot with every thrust. “Yeah, yeah, I’m… ‘m yours, baby. Yours. No one else’s, promise you. Yours. ” 

His mouth falls open, choked grunts and desperate whimpers are the only thing that fall from it as he feels himself getting closer and closer. He hides his face in your neck, squeezing his eyes and leaving a series of wet kisses on your collarbone. 

“O-open up, baby,” Chan whimpers, bringing two of his hands to your lips. You accept them into your mouth, coating them in your own spit, and after Chan makes sure they’re moisturized enough, he pulls them out and slides his hand between your legs, touching your clit. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you think of when you pleasure yourself. I wanna know everything.”

“I think of- of you fucking me raw,” you blush like crazy, and Chan gulps as his eyes widen. “I think about… about letting you cum inside. About you filling me up, Channie.”

“Oh, fuck, you- you… you drive me crazy, you know that? Love you so fuckin’ much.”

His thrusts turn sloppy as he rubs your clit the way you like it - his touch is delicate and intense at the same time, not too light and not too rough. Your legs begin to shake in mere seconds, and you can feel the familiar feeling burning in your stomach - you whine and take deep breaths as he keeps rubbing you in circular motions, faster and faster. 

“Chan- Channie, I’m- oh, Channie,” you squeeze your eyes shut, scratching his back with your fingernails. 

“Yeah, like that, baby,” Chan sucks on your neck, “cum for me. Prove me you’re really mine.”

When you finally find your release - it’s with an obscene moan of his name and your teeth in his shoulder. You clench so tight around him that Chan feels suddenly on the verge of his own orgasm. 

“‘M close, baby, ‘m so close,” Chan breathes heavily, his thrusts turning frantic and erratic. He needs to let go. “Tell me- fuck, baby, tell me you’re mine. N-need to hear it,” he begs.

“‘M yours. ‘M yours, Chan. Love you so much, baby,” you whine and he eventually teaches his own orgasm, that washes all over his body and has him shaking on top of you as he fills up the condom with his hot release.

“My- my baby. ‘M so fucking in love with you,” he mumbles on your skin, pecking your neck, and then your jaw, and then your lips. 

“I’m in love with you, too, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, kissing his temple as you both catch your breaths. “Let’s eat the donuts now, yeah? ‘M kinda hungry,” you giggle, and he does, too.

-> 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

-> 𝐦𝐲 ☕️

[copperbadge]

Lately, it's felt like every time I've started to work on writing, I'll just be getting into the rhythm of it when I get interrupted, either by work or the cats or because the time I'd booked in the library study room is up (you can only do two hours at a time, and only four hours a week total). It was getting to the point where I kept re-reading the same chapter or so of previous work but never managing to add to it.

So I tried an experiment this past weekend -- I found a really cheap rate on a local hotel room, and on Friday I took an overnight bag and a very old laptop with limited processing power and checked into a room about a mile from home for a quasi "staycation". I unpacked and had a quiet night on Friday, as prelude to working Saturday-Sunday. The idea was to write uninterrupted by other people, pets, the presence of all my Stuff around me at home, et cetera.

I had snacks but I also bought meals out, which was nice; I don't often order in or buy out when I'm at home. The way I set up was that I would do fifty minutes of writing with do-not-disturb engaged on my phone and then ten minutes of checking email, texts, etc. since often what pulls me out of writing is a text or an email that needs answering, or the anxiety that I'm missing one that would. If I set it so that every hour I check, well, nobody's going to die if something doesn't get answered in an hour, so the anxiety isn't there, and neither is the distraction. (I found a nice app for this, review later depending on how functional it continues to be for me, but it's a like $4 app called Forest.)

It worked pretty well -- writing for an uninterrupted hour, as long as I know what I'm working on, is very functional for me. I average about two thousand words, that way, though there is a limit to the number of hours I can put in. I ended up doing two hours in the morning and one hour in the afternoon, then switched from fiction writing to clearing out my tumblr drafts and some correspondence for the fourth hour. So it went something like

Go out and get breakfast, bring back and eat in room

Change into lounging clothes and do two one-hour sessions

Go out and get lunch, eat lunch out

Bit of a rest break back in the room

Two one-hour sessions, one of writing; when tired, switch to something that requires less creativity

Go out and get dinner, bring back and eat in room

And then in the evening the plan was to watch movies or catch up on reading, but I ended up being mentally weary, so instead I did some simple tarot reading. It was less divination or even meditation than just messing around, keeping the creativity stimulated; I did a couple of Creative Writing spreads, some very brief divination spreads (I nicked a nice three-card spread here that I mentally call He To Hecuba, and just used it in general rather than for a specific question) and then invented a spread when I was starting to get irritated that the same like, five cards kept coming up, more on this in its own post.

Sunday I did one more writing session but it was less successful, I think partly because what I was writing required a lot of research and partly because the previous day I'd dumped eight thousand words into the file. (Research took longer because I brought the most garbage laptop known to man, and the browsers crash if you try to open Google Maps, but in other ways it was ideal since there wasn't much I could do on it other than write.) But I had a good breakfast, got some rest, packed up easily enough, and headed home just ahead of the rain storm.

I don't think it's something I'll be able to do in that format especially often, since the deal I got on the hotel was an anomaly and Chicago lodging, even just AirBNB stuff, is stupid expensive. But in addition to helping get some work done it was a nice break, so I'm going to look into ways I could swing it on a perhaps monthly basis, or some other way to cheaply spend an entire day alone with decent access to a bathroom/snacks and a way to come and go easily. I've looked into coworking spaces before but they tend to be prohibitively expensive and don't really have the setup I'd prefer; there's a hostel on the north side with private rooms that I might try out but it doesn't seem significantly cheaper than a hotel. I might just have to pick one weekend a month and watch last-minute hotel price cuts where they simply want to fill a room for a day or two.

Anyway, functionally I wrote almost a fifth of a novel this weekend, and one that I wasn't feeling super on fire about; I'm feeling much better about it now that I've got some established plot going and I feel like I "know" the newer characters a bit better. (Also I'm enjoying writing Simon as someone who is absolutely entranced by his love interest and clueless that what he's feeling isn't mild antipathy because they met while fighting over ricotta.) So it was a big help, although if I were to put a budget line item in the Extribulum Press ledger for "writing staycation" it would wipe out my royalties surplus very quickly.

[artificial-transmutations]

Your wish is my command

People knew when James approached pretty soon. Even with his 31 years, he still pretty much looked - and behaved - like the popular high school boy he used to be. He was loud, obnoxious and always surrounded by a group of friends - mostly his male buddies, but from time to time also one of his cardboard cutout girlfriends.

With his youthful looks and beautiful face, it wasn't very difficult for him to find a new girl - a fact he well knew and exploited. So, in general, his relationships rarely lasted longer than a few weeks or months until James got tired of his current girlfriend and dumped her for a new one.

Cathrine was one of them, a brunette smart girl who got picked up by James four weeks ago. Even though she quickly fell for him for his good looks and natural charm, she slowly felt annoyed by his constant bragging and immature behavior. However, she had agreed to let the group of friends hang out in her grandmother's antique shop this evening, a decision she started to regret already.

"Hey, look at these things. These are pretty weird, aren't they? What's this even supposed to be?"

"That's a gargoyle. They usually guard churches or the like. Or are supposed to bring luck." Cathrine explained.

"Hah! Bring luck. More like bringing ugliness. How is anyone supposed to see luck in that, huh?" James laughed and prodded the figure.

Catherine grimaced. "Honey, please don't touch anything. I had to promise grandma that nothing would be broken."

"Relax, Cathy, everything's fine! I'm not gonna break anything. Hey, do you think grandma would miss one of her creepy statues?"

"James, please!"

"Okay okay", he joked and looked around the shelves before something caught his eye.

"Hey, guys, check this out!"

He quickly stepped closer and, ignoring Catherines sigh, took the object from the blue pillow it was placed on.

"Cool! Is that a magic lamp, like from Aladdin?" he asked. Really, the brass object looked like a prop from the film. An old-fashioned oil lamp, with an oriental flair to it.

"Please, be careful with that. I don't know much about it, but I know it's an antique and really expensive."

"Yeah, yeah", James waved her off and continued to examine the lamp. By now his friends had gathered around him to watch. Giving them a show, he rubbed the lamp theatrically, but of course, nothing happened. Nevertheless, it brought him cheers and hollers from his buddies.

"The genie is just shy!", one of them joked.

"Oh, a shy one? Perhaps it's a genie lady that just needs some proper motivation?" James immediately agreed.

He raised the lamp to his face and made a kiss-face. "Don't be shy, miss genie! Oh, what is that?"

He held the lamp to his ear as if he was listening to a voice from inside.

"You want me too... what? Oh, you're being naughty miss genie! But I'm not complaining; your wish is my command!"

With that, James lowered the lamp to his groin and held it in front of his package. When he began humping the brass object, his buddies were already laughing tears. Catherine was a little annoyed on how immature James acted but couldn't help but smile as well.

What happened next, however, came as a surprise, not only for James but for Catherine and the guys, too:

In the span of seconds, James' body became engulfed in blue smoke. No, that wasn't exactly right: A more precise description was that James' body *became* blue smoke. It began at his hands, holding the lamp and quickly spread up his arms. The brass oil lamp fell to the ground as the blue smoke that had once been James' hands had not enough substance anymore to hold it.

But even dropping the item didn't stop the process. His entire upper body was turning into the ethereal blue smoke.

"Guys... Guys! What's happening?", he yelled out, but his buddies had no idea either. They were watching, perplexed, as James' body began dissolving. After a few moments, only smoke remained where moments before, James had been standing. Then, suddenly, the smoke was being sucked into the lamp, leaving James' friends and girlfriend behind in shock.

James found himself floating in twilight. He had been caught completely off-guard by his body dissolving into smoke, and he didn't have time to react or run away then. Now there was just... nothing around him. Gray twilight, and apparently no gravity surrounded him. There was some sort of light and air, but this world he now floated in lacked any point of reference whatsoever.

James checked his body, but apparently, it was alright. No sign of the blue smoke, just his regular body was hanging suspended in nothingness.

"Hello? Guys?", he tried, but nobody answered.

"Guys! Where are you?", he shouted out again, but the gray space just swallowed his words.

Suddenly, a tingling feeling ran over his body. When he looked down again, he noticed his clothes one by one fading away, until all that was left on him was his pair of underwear.

"What the fuck is happening to me?", he mumbled, a bit panicked.

The strange feeling he had only intensified however, as his very body was changing - again. However, this time, it didn't dissolve into smoke. Instead, it felt like his skin was stretching - or rather, the amount of his body was stretching. His limbs were growing and thickening, while his torso widened. At the same time, his skin became darker, reminding him more and more of a middle eastern heritage rather than his usual fair complexion.

His chest and arms ballooned out with muscle. It wasn't like he had been skinny or scrawny before - but now he didn't just look fit - he began to look more and more like a sort of body builder - one of those muscle bulls you only saw in TV or in the gym. His six-pack was becoming more visible, and his shoulders stretched wide and broad.

His legs, too, thickened and swelled, but that wasn't all. His thighs grew not just wide, but thick as well, and his calves became almost disproportionately large. Above all else, hair began to spread on his now darker skin. But it wasn't the blonde hair James was used to having on his head - it was coarse and thick hair that was dark and clearly visible on his muscular chest and arms.

At the same time, his haircut changed. While the hair on his head turned black as well, it became stylish, yet unlike anything James had tried before. The sides buzzed short and the top gelled up, he was beginning to look more and more like a young Arab hunk, perhaps from the Iran. As if on cue, dark stubble set in and covered his chin that was becoming squarer by the minute. James didn't have a mirror, but his fingers were exploring his new facial features in disbelief. As a final treat, his boxer shorts morphed into a tight pair of a simple blue fabric underwear that filled out as his manhood began to take more and more place, leaving behind his previous pretty average bulge and settling on a huge, almost obscene size.

The changes had finally stopped and James found himself suspended in the gray, twilight world, confused, scared, and sporting a very new look. He had never thought of himself as attractive before, but the changes he had just gone through had made him a prime stud.

However, he hardly had time to react, as he felt a pulling sensation all through his being. The scenery changed and he found himself back in the shop - but now, he was somehow floating a bit off the ground and looked down to one of his buddies, Greg, who held the lamp in his hand and had apparently just rubbed it.

"Whoa!", Greg exclaimed. "Who are you?"

"Guys, it's me, James!" James answered. "I somehow got sucked into the lamp thing and now your wish is my command, master."

A moment of silence followed and James realized what he just said. Despite his impressive muscular new body, the last words, which he had not meant to say at all, had sounded respectful and submissive.

"What is this bullshit? Who are you and what are you talking about?" Greg asked.

"I'm... I'm James" James stuttered. "And, apparently, your wish is my command. Just say 'I wish' and I will make your heart’s desire come true."

Again, James had only partial control over what he was saying. The last part had come out without him meaning to.

Greg was taken aback somewhat. "I wish...? I dunno. You're pretty gay like that!"

James only realized what was happening as he felt a mighty surge of power move through his body and heard himself say: "And so it shall be."

Did Greg just wish for James to be gay?! Luckily nothing seemed to be happening, until all heads turned as Catherine exhaled a low surprised moan.

James watched in horror as now her body was changing. Her breast flattened in a matter of seconds and her hair shortened to a stylish men's cut. At the same time, her body widened and her shoulders became broad. Her skin became rougher and little hairs spread all over her body. By the moment, her clothes were becoming too tight on a lot of places and too loose on some others. Catherine's face became a masculine version of itself, just like it would look like if she had been born a boy. Her nose was now strong and prominent, and her jawline was becoming stronger. Her face, too, was covered with a dark stubble that continued down her neck a bit before stopping at about where her now pronounced Adam's apple sat. When she let out another shocked noise, it was at least an octave lower than before.

Her new lean masculine look was completed by a bulge in her pants that quickly filled out with the last part of her new distinctively male anatomy.

At first, James had hated to watch Catherine's... No, Kit's feminine features melt away like that. But the longer he watched the better Kit looked, James decided. When his new cock popped into existence, James even felt himself get a bit hard from watching his lover. Kit was his soulmate, his one true love. James didn't care how gay it was - he liked men - and this man especially.

He turned back to Greg with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he was happy about having Kit, but on the other hand, he was horrified about what was happening to him. He needed to beg him to stop!

But instead, all that came out was: "You have two wishes left, master."

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[reveluving]

her cafe ; batfam x batmom reader

summary: you’re Bruce Wayne’s wife a.k.a Batmom, who’s also the owner of one of Gotham’s well-known café known as Mother’s Touch, where your family loves to visit.

warnings: pure fluff!

a/n: here it is, reuploading my first ever Batmom fic! y’all don’t know how good it feels to be writing for Batfam again 😭 (for those who have read this on my old acc a.k.a taiyakimmy, hi! this is my new acc!)

» check out my batmom m.list, or my full m.list!

✧･ﾟ Bruce Wayne:

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been at the register, half-listening to the customer drop pick-up lines after pick-up lines to you. You had a good sense of humor. Hell, Dick and Tim learned their puns from you!

But right now, you knew the man in front of you was nothing but trouble. Worst of all, you couldn’t do anything about it. Not unless he decided to lay his hands on you and thankfully, he hasn’t done that.

Sadly, that only meant smile respectfully even if it meant gritting your teeth.

You recognized the man as one of Bruce’s clients, Montgomery. He reeked of cheap cologne and bad businesses, you know, the usual. Maybe things didn’t go so well for him and your husband.

You were dreading for one of your employees to put you out of your misery. Though, giving them a side glance, you saw them shivering in one group. One of them got yelled at by Montgomery not too long ago for interrupting, after all.

“Mr. Montgomery, for the last time, I won’t go on a date with you. I’m a married woman and a mother, after all,” You knew he turned a deaf ear at your words and scoffed.

“Right, and what’s ol’ Bruce going to tell ya?”

"I mean, I won’t tell her anything, to be honest,” You smirked once Montgomery’s face paled, looking as if he might faint, hearing the voice of the one and only.

You peeked behind the sleazy man, seeing Bruce mirroring a similar smirk, but his eyes darkened. Your employees already ran to the kitchen, watching the tension unfold through the small window.

“You, on the other hand, well, that’s a different story,” Bruce tutted, “Now that you’re here, though, I've been thinking; that idea you proposed earlier?” He whistled, “A little too risky, y’know,”

“Wooah, heeey, wait, wait,” Montgomery laughed nervously, shrinking once he faced him, “Come on, pal, I’d never lay a finger on her. Cross my heart! And I’ve only told you half of my plan. I’ll make the other half worth your time,”

Bruce pretended to think for a moment.

“Sure, it wouldn’t hurt to give a second thought,” He shrugged nonchalantly. By now, you’ve moved away from the cashier, standing close to Bruce, “I’ll see you in the office at 3, alright? I just need a word with wife for a moment,”

Montgomery didn’t wait to answer and made a beeline for the exit with his now-cold cup of latte. You closed your eyes, sighing in relief. Before you could even thank your savior, he wrapped his arm around your waist—almost possessively.

“Your knuckles were white, y'know,” He hid his face in your neck, breath hitched once you felt his hot breath, “I’m sure he could’ve handled a punch or three, would’ve been nice,”

He meant to say hot but that’ll do.

You clicked your tongue, but not out of annoyance.

“And risk our little safe haven? Please,” You and Bruce watched as Montgomery nearly tripped, trying to cross the road, “I hope you’re not actually going to approve that project of his,”

“Absolutely not,” You could’ve sworn he growled under his breath, wrapping his other arm around your front. You’re glad the others are in the kitchen. Even so, you could feel your face grow hotter.

You hid your face in your hands, his low chuckle never failed to send shivers down your spine.

Knowing he’s the only one that could make you this flustered mattered more than even the most expensive of projects he’s done.

You’ve given him love, sanity and most importantly; hope. There’s no way he’s letting some good-for-nothing egomaniac go anywhere close to him and especially you.

✧･ﾟ Dick Grayson:

“You sure she won’t mind?” Barbara asked for the umpteenth time, causing Dick to sigh for the same amount. He placed both of his hands on her shoulders with a reassuring smile.

“Yes, Babs, I’m positive. I’d be in huge trouble if I at least didn’t say hi, aaand I learned that the hard way,” Barbara wasn’t sure if he was kidding or reminiscing in fear, “And since you’ve never been to the place, I thought it’d be the perfect time for you to meet her,”

Now that she thought about it, she’s not sure why. Just days ago, she confessed to Dick how she’s never stepped into the café. The one thing she had before was your pancakes her father once brought home and holy shit.

That was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

She knew it was a big deal, judging from Dick’s offended gasp. He swore to bring her as soon as possible. He made a mental note to bring her during non-peak hours so you two could meet. He’s been meaning to see you too anyway.

One thing though; he’s praying you wouldn’t embarrass him too much.

The bell of the front door chimed once Dick pushed the door open, and they were immediately greeted with the smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries. Their shoulders automatically relaxed, and whatever unnecessary worries they had before just vanished.

So it’s true; your problems really do just vanish when you step in.

Barbara couldn’t help but marvel at the aesthetics of the café. They were much different from a lot of the cafes in the city; dull, dark, and just plain sad. Yours was bright from the natural light coming from the giant windows, and customers looked more alive. Dick looked over to Barbara, feeling proud at her awed expression. It’s the same look he had when he first stepped in as a kid.

The coffee shop was identical to those South Korean cafes and their too-good-to-be-eaten cakes you’d see online.

He escorted her to the window seat, also known as the best seat of the shop. Barbara’s eyes sparkled as she scanned through the single-page menu. Even the menu was interesting!

Dick chuckled before squinting his eyes at the counter, hoping to find a certain (H/C)-haired woman walking around. He perked up once he saw you stepped out of the storage room and raised his hand for your attention. Your neutral expression quickly turned into a beaming smile as soon as your eyes laid on him and approached the table.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my lil’ Dickie,” You purposely teased, seeing that he has company. His widened his eyes at you, as if to say ‘please don’t’. Barbara, on the other hand, couldn’t help but stare at you.

She’s seen you countless times on TV and Dick’s phone gallery, but seeing you up-close was a whole different experience. She has to know whatever your secret is to look this young. It’s no wonder that Bruce himself couldn’t resist your beauty. She flushed red once her eyes locked with yours, causing you to chortle.

“Now, are you going to introduce the sweetheart to me?” Dick let out a muffled mumbling before moving the menu away from his face.

“Barbara, this is my mom. Mom, this is Barbara, my study-buddy,” He succumbed to your half-smirk. He knew you weren’t going to let this go for a while.

“Ah!” You clasped your hands together in elation before whispering to Barbara, “Good to know someone’s keeping an eye out for my boy,”

You ignored your son face-planting on the table.

“It’s finally nice to meet the young Gordon, I’d say, you’re prettier than I imagined,” You held your chin, taking a good look at her. Barbara nearly hyperventilated, not expecting such boldness, and from you no less. Dick told her that you tend to praise others a lot. But, reverse those roles and you're as timid as a mouse. You were humble and he loves that about you.

“Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” You wore your glasses, previously hanging around your neck and clicked on your pen.

“I can’t visit my own mother without a reason?” Dick smiled cheekily, contrasting to the deadpan that you wore out of nowhere.

“Normally, your visits from Bludhaven have a reason, mister,” You narrowed your eyes, slowly leaning closer to him. He sunk back in his seat and soon, you were hovering over him. Barbara tried her best to stifle a laugh, “Right, well, I’m sure you two study-buddies are busy,“

You straightened your back, a kind smile making its return.

"Would you like the soufflé pancakes, dear?” You turned to Barbara—you’ve seen her eyeing the pancake category since you started bantering with the boy. Getting caught red-handed, she nodded.

“The one with caramelized bananas, please, and an iced black tea,” She requested politely. Dick had his usual order; a beef eggplant panini with iced black tea, too. He never missed a beat when it comes to the combo.

“Alright, you two hang tight, lunch will be ready in a jiffy,” You notified them in a sing-song manner before returning to the register. They watched you naturally interacting with the line of customers when a worker needed a hand.

“She’s really nice,” Barbara spoke softly, but Dick caught every word. Nice was an understatement he agreed nonetheless. No matter how sheepish he gets for being babied, he won’t ever love you any less.

✧･ﾟ Jason Todd:

You trudged to the final window blind, despite your muscles screaming in agony. Rush hour on Mondays is always a pain in the ass, and today was no different. Keeping a smile, dealing with rude customers, and working back and forth between the kitchen and the cashier was already a workout. Even so, you had the heart to tell your employees that you’ll close the shop on your own. They’ve helped you with most of the cleaning duties, so that’s good.

You paused, hearing a shuffling in the kitchen. You turned your head to the side, only to see a red-hooded man jumping over the counter.

“I just cleaned that, you know,” Well, no, you were lying. Your barista did but now you would have to wipe it, “Bad boy or not, there are rules here, young man,”

Jason grumbled, but instantly shut his mouth when you gave him an ‘I dare you’ glare. He raised his hands in defense before removing his helmet, catching your eyes with his all-too-familiar white streak of hair.

“You’re grumpy,” He stated as-a-matter-of-fact and took a rag hanging on the coffee machine before wiping the counter that he jumped over.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” With all the windows covered, you took the nearest cushion booth seat and landed on your back. Jason huffed in amusement, seeing your legs flailing around to stretch, “Stopping by the manor today?”

“Nah, sorry,” He didn’t wish to see the sadness, but he felt your eyes bore onto his back, “Ma, please,”

“I know, I know. My Jay’s a busy man, I’m just messing with ya,” Your smile was strained, but he knew you too well. Although his visits were frequent nowadays, that wasn’t the case for the manor. Sure, he and Bruce no longer had bad blood, but that didn’t mean he’d move back in like nothing happened, “C’mon, I saved some bestsellers for you,”

More often than not, you’d save a box of treats whenever Jason lets you know he’s coming. Whether he’s sharing with a partner or needs his me-time, you’re much more content knowing he’s not working on an empty stomach.

He watched you shuffled to the back of the counter before coming back to stand before him with ever-so-familiar pastry packaging.

“Got you some cinnamon buns, I can heat them up if you want?” Your aching body says no, but none of them mattered when it comes to your children. He took the box from your hands before setting it down on the table next to him. Confused, you were about to question him when he suddenly pulled you to his chest, hiding his face in your hair.

It’s unusual for Jason to do the honors. Normally, it’s you who would ask him for a hug.

“Jay, dear, what’s wrong?” He shook his head, so, you did what you knew comforted him; stroke his hair. Being the tallest kid amongst others, you’d have to crane your neck to a better angle so you wouldn’t suffocate.

Reminiscing his time as a kid, wandering around the dangerous streets, cold and starving was inevitable. It’s just those days that naturally come up to screw one over.

Then, he stumbled upon your shop, right when you’re about to close. He feared that you’ve called the cops for watching you in a distance when you walked back in.

You came back out and left a filled-up paper bag on your shop’s windowsill before returning home.

He went to his so-called home, weeping as he munched on your leftover buns and egg tarts.

Seeing you again in the Batcave with Bruce was like meeting his guardian angel. Whatever his fate would’ve been if he never met you was something he’d rather not think about. For now, he’s delighted to be in the arms of the woman that brought him back, both figuratively and literally.

✧･ﾟ Tim Drake:

“Tim?” He jolted in his seat, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He looked around, only to find that he’s still in the café, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me,”

“Sorry,” Tim gave you a bashful smile, yawning before taking the paper off his face. He came in an hour ago from his last class of the day to study. He wanted to greet you first but you were occupied, seeing that it was peak hours.

Instead, he took a seat and studied for a little bit. He regretted not ordering a cup of Joe beforehand and passed out with his head on his notes.

You placed a cup of his favorite on the table, and brushed his messy fringe to the side.

“Three cups only, alright?” You reminded—a rule he had to follow since you knew he’d have more at home late.

“Better than none, thanks mom,” He took a sip of his coffee and sighed in content. He stayed and studied until closing time so you could head home together. Cleaning the shop with you was his favorite, being able to catch-up and occasionally pour his feelings out just lifted the weights off his shoulders.

School was one thing, but being a vigilante was another. He knew he needed more than caffeine.

Of course, coffee is always a must, but spending even the shortest time with you is irreplaceable.

✧･ﾟCassandra Cain:

“Alriiight, I got us a jumbo, so we can share,” You carefully placed the vanilla milkshake on the table, further away from Cass’s notebook. The noirette looked up, giving you the smallest but thankful smile, “Alright sweetie, I’m ready,”

Usually, Cass’s visits on Wednesdays after rush hours were only so she could watch you work. Seeing her effort to stop by, you asked if she could help improve your sign language ability. You couldn’t forget the sparkle in her eyes.

Today, she wrote a little story so you could teach her how to read while she guides you to sign properly.

Ironically, the story consisted of a mother and her daughter. Although it was no more than 500 words, each sentence touched you.

It wasn’t until the final passage that it hit you.

'I would do anything for her.’

Your hands froze, unable to control the tear running down your cheek before you felt her thumb wiping it off. She took your hands hesitantly, almost as if she’s afraid you might push her away. You gently took hers in your hands.

You looked up, waiting for Cass’s next sign.

Or words, in this case.

“Thank you,” She was bashful with her struggles, but just hearing her it’s enough to make you weep with a smile.

Sure, the coffee shop never failed to make her feel safe.

But, it’s nothing compared to being by your side.

✧･ﾟ Duke Thomas:

Calm and Gotham were nowhere near synonymous, but somehow, the café would prove anyone wrong. It was almost magical.

Since he became a part of the Wayne, Duke would stop by every other day, daydreaming at the window counter seating. Watching anyone from the poorest to the richest of men pass by brought peace to his mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Duke jumped a little but was immediately brought to a state of tranquility once he recognized the voice.

“Just enjoying the view, that’s all,” Getting the idea of your open arms, he reciprocated a hug.

“I’m a little hurt that you didn’t say hello when you came in,” You pulled away while pursing your lips, only to find his guilty smile.

“You looked busy in the back, so I didn’t wanna interrupt anything,” Your expression softened patting his shoulder.

“Duke, I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again; nothing is more important than my own family. I’ll drop everything I’m holding, if it means one of you needs help,” While he knew the statement was meant to be serious, Duke couldn’t help but snort.

“God, please no. Especially if you’re holding a hot tray or something,” He fears the idea of you dropping a cookie pan drop to the floor just so he could say 'hi’.

“That includes dropping a pan,” You grinned, causing him to groan in his hands, but in reality, he’s grateful.

If anyone told the younger version of Duke Thomas that he’s a metahuman and is soon to be adopted by the Bruce Wayne and his wife, he’d probably just laugh incredulously. Then again, this is Gotham, we’re talking about. Nothing’s normal in this city.

Yet, he couldn’t ask for a better life. Not when he already has one right now.

✧･ﾟ Damian Wayne:

“Ummi,” You perked up, hearing your youngest called for you. Alfred had just dropped him at the café from school but notified you that he wasn’t his usual. You asked Alfred what it was and he tutted, saying that he 'promised the young master not to tell’.

“Damian!” You bent over the counter, seeing him rather crestfallen, “Why so glum, dear?”

His body language screamed reluctance, although he tried not to show it. He twiddled his thumbs before asking for your hand. You did as you were told, walking around the counter so both of you could sit at the corner seat meant for employees. He placed his school bag on the table, silence filling the table.

“Damian?” You said his name in the softest tone you could muster. You assumed the worst — some kid bullying him for his race again. As much as you disliked Talia, there’s no way in hell that you would ever bring race, ethnicity, religion, or anything similar into the argument, “Is someone bothering you again?”

You raised your eyebrows when he shook his head. He slowly took a folded piece of paper out of his bag before passing it to you with his head down.

You eyed him suspiciously before unfolding the mystery paper. It was his Science paper.

He got a B+.

“This… this is amazing!” You exclaimed and wore your glasses before flipping through the pages. Most of his mistakes still made sense to you, even if they weren’t the answer, “Not even a B — a B plus,”

“But,” He interjected, “I had an A plus for the previous exam,” He hasn’t had the chance to study as much as he wanted to due to sleepless nights, “I’m no longer sure if I can even be the first in class anymore,”

You lowered his paper, registering his words in surprise before shaking your head with an amused smile. You stood from your seat and kneeled in front of Damian.

“Is this what it’s all about? Damian, your exams don’t necessarily define you. First place or not, you’re still my smart cookie,”

“The grade says it all!” He slouched in his seat, “I’m failing everyone,”

You tutted before gently lifting his chin, “You? Never. I know you Damian, and I have no doubt that you’ve tried your very best. Your exams don’t always define you. I’m proud of you nonetheless, and I will never love you any less. If anything, you’ve earned my love even more,”

His face hardened before giving you small defeated smile, relishing in your praises, even if he felt like it wasn’t meant for him at first.

His own birth mother would do the absolute worst to him for doing anything. One single bump and it’s over for him. The consequences were indescribable. Nothing inhumane, per se, just, un-motherly. He presumed you’d do the same too, even after all those months living with you, filled with nothing but peace and support.

Instead, here you were, praising him as if he won the Nobel Prize. His body was stiff ever since the drive with Alfred, although the butler told him time and time again that his results were immaculate.

“Congratulations to my smart boy!” You stood up, “As a present, I’ll make you anything you want for lunch,”

His usual spirit came back before requesting you his ol’ favourite; mozzarella and tomato panini. You thought he’d ask you to make something that’s not on the menu, but hey, what the boy wants, the boy gets!

✧･ﾟ Alfred Pennyworth:

“Soo, cream cake or tiramisu?” You watched Alfred squint his eyes, pondering between the two flavours. Every month, Alfred would come over to help you pick the best menu as seasonal bestsellers.

He must’ve been a psychic in his past life ‘cause whatever choices he made would always sell like hotcakes.

You’ve done this monthly meet-up six months after you and Bruce started dating. You wanted to spend more time with the father-figure, thus, the suggestion came out of the blue.

The first time he asked why him of all people, all you answered was 'there’s no other man of wisdom that I trust more than you’.

He kept that quote like a plaque in his mind.

“I would prefer the cream cake. We’re close to the strawberry season,” Behind him, was your only baker, jotting down Alfred’s points, “It would go well with a cold brew or Darjeeling,”

Your barista scribbled in his book, silently agreeing with the butler.

“Well, you heard him,” Your barista and baker playfully saluted before making a beeline for their stations. “Thank you so much, Alfred. My team and I are thankful to have a professional with us,”

“No, Mistress (L/N), I should be the one thanking you. It’s nice to go out and see the nicer parts of Gotham once in a while,” Alfred laughed — taking care of six children (and probably counting, who knows) and a brooding adult was more than a handful for little ol’ him.

If it wasn’t for that little patience of yours — one that nearly all Gotham locals failed to have, he’s not sure what lies for the future of the Wayne household.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 22

Description: A bunch of chaotic things happen to Miguel while he's just trying to have a normal day at work. TW: Gabi's school is attacked, but no children or innocents are harmed! Pt 23

“O’Hara, you gotta see this, you’re a fan of Spiderman right?” Jack, one of the geneticists, calls Miguel over, his phone turned sideways in his hand.

“I wouldn’t say a fan…more like an appreciative citizen.” Miguel says, sliding into the chair beside Jack.

He likes Jack, he’s a good man and a dedicated employee. He’s also the only one besides Monica he’ll seek out when he doesn’t want to eat lunch alone.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Check this out.”

It’s an…edited video of him, titled “Coolest Spiderman Saves.”

“What is this?” He asks, squinting at the video as it begins again.

Jack gives him a disbelieving look. “You don’t know what an edit is? Dude, you’re not that old.”

“Watch it.” Miguel warns halfheartedly.

“Yeah, Miguel’s real sensitive about his age, it happens to the elderly, ya know?” Monica teases, as she breezes by on her way to the fridge.

“Aren’t we the same age?” Miguel shoots back.

“Aren’t we the same age.” She mocks, grabbing a soda from the fridge.

“Real mature, Mon.” He drawls, rolling his eyes and standing, intending to go back to his office.

“Wait, Miguel, the boss wants to talk to you.” Monica says, her mocking tone gone, replaced by slight hesitance.

Tyler Stone is different in this universe. He’s less…everything. He looks up when Miguel enters and beckons for him to take a seat. “So—Miguel, thanks for coming.”

“Monica said you wanted to speak with me, sir?” Miguel keeps things professional with him, even though it’s painfully clear this universe’s Tyler Stone has begun to long for a more familial relationship.

“You don’t have to call me—yes, I wanted to speak with you about your plus one for the gala. Mon said you weren’t bringing anyone.”

Miguel blinks, thoroughly caught off-guard. Was this really what Stone called him in for?

“That was before.”

“Before?”

“Before I asked Y/N Y/L/N, to accompany me.”

“And who is this y/n?” Stone asks, as if he couldn’t find out with a simple search.

“She’s a friend.” Miguel says, his fangs itching to break through the gums and tear Stone’s throat out for even daring to ask about you. You’re his, no one needs to know anything more than that.

“A friend.” Stone repeats, his blond eyebrows furrowed.

“Mr. Stone, is this the only reason you asked me to come in here? Because my team needs me back in the lab.” Miguel’s already standing, halfway to the door.

“That’s it, thanks, Miguel.” Stone says, half professional, half almost mournful…?

He shakes it off and heads back to his office. Stone had plenty of time to be a father, especially in this universe. It wasn’t on him to fix Stone’s mistakes.

Miguel settles into his desk chair and shakes his mouse, waking his computer. Spreadsheets, lab reports, expense reports, and DNA analyses, that’s what he needs to focus on.

He gets about halfway through his to-do list when Lyla pops up in his peripheral vision.

“Miguel, you need to see this.” She flicks her fingers and a holographic newsreel plays before his eyes.

“Reports are saying that the target of the attack was Steve Rodger’s Elementary School.” A newswoman says, her tone even, her expression neutral but not uncaring.

Miguel feels his stomach lurch, and he pushes back from his desk, his chair clattering to the floor as he moves in a hurry, sprinting down the hall, ignoring concerned questions from his coworkers.

“Lyla, tell me what’s going on.” He says, his breathing erratic as he frantically swings through the city, his mind replaying the moment he lost Gabriella over and over again.

“No reports of any dead or injured, the hostile is a disgruntled employee of the school board, his kids go to the school, I doubt he’ll make any rash decisions.” Lyla says calmly, scanning through news segments and police reports.

He can’t lose her, not again. He can’t lose you either, not when he’s just found you.

The school is in sight when he hears glass shattering and metal creaking.

He scans the outpouring of students and teachers streaming out the doors of the school. He doesn’t see you or Gabi.

“Lyla.” He says, voice strained, his hands shaking as he lands.

“School board guy apparently has superpowers? Yeah, okay, Donald Wilkerson, did some weird experimenting after his wife left him, looks like he’s got metal manipulation?”

“Tap into y/n’s necklace, where are they?” He orders, pushing through the crowd and into the school.

“Shit, they’re trapped in the nurse’s office.” Lyla throws up a map, but he knows the way, he’s studied the layout of Gabi’s school extensively.

Around him is chaos, the building is creaking, windows are shattered, books left scattered, desks and chairs overturned. He makes it to the nurse’s office, only to see it break away from the school and begin to rise up into the air.

Miguel can hear Gabi crying and your frantic attempts to calm her. He webs himself up, claws digging into the wooden door before he rips it off, not even watching as it spirals to the ground.

“Back away, Spiderman, she’s mine.” Donald yells from the flying piece of metal he’s standing on.

He’s going to rip that jackass apart. “There’s a child in there.”

“Not mine.” Donald sneers, raising his hand and slicing it through the air in Miguel’s direction.

Miguel flings himself inside, the chunk of metal whizzing through the space he previously occupied.

“Did I forget to mention his ex-wife is the nurse?” Lyla asks, her lips pressed together tightly.

“Yeah, you did.” He snaps, scanning the room for you and Gabi.

You’re tucked into a corner, Gabi’s face hidden in your neck. Your arms are wrapped tightly around her, shielding her from the rapid winds whipping through the door and broken windows. There’s glass all over the floor and the beds are overturned. The nurse cowers beside you and Gabi, her hand in one of yours, the other gripping the safety bar attached to the wall. It’s an attempt to keep the three of you from falling as the room shakes and dips from Donald’s superpowered tantrum.

Even terrified both you and her are trying to protect his daughter, his heart swells for a moment.

“Y/N, y/n, we’re saved.” She says, shaking your hand slightly.

You look up, and your eyes meet Miguel’s.

It’s as if someone drove a spike through his heart. Your face is tear stained, your eyes wide with fear, your body trembling as you hug Gabi tightly.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, Spiderman is here to save us.” Your voice is shaking, but you try to run a comforting hand down Gabi’s back.

Gabi lifts her head, and the stake is driven further in. She’s utterly terrified.

“Te tengo mija, todo está bien.” He calls to her over the roaring winds. Trsl: I got you daughter, everything is good/okay.

Gabi nods at him, her bottom lip trembling as she tries to stop her tears.

“Victoria, baby, please, I’m sorry.” Donald says, floating to the empty doorway.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? What the hell kind of apology is this, Donald?” Victoria shouts, rising to her feet, still holding onto the safety bar and you.

“I just wanted to show you that I’m strong now, like you wanted.” Donald explains, desperation clear in his tone.

“I wanted to strengthen our marriage, not for you to get dangerous superpowers.” Victoria retorts, her face a portrait of frustration and disbelief. She releases the safety bar, and your hand, as she steps forward.

Miguel takes the opportunity to lunge, tackling Donald to the floor and raking his claws down his chest, one hand around his throat. “You’re a fucking coward, attacking a school because you couldn’t be enough of a man and try to fix your marriage? You’re pathetic.” He growls, tightening his grip on Donald.

Donald sputters in response, then his eyes begin to flutter shut and everything begins to fall.

Gabi screams, you scream, Victoria screams and Miguel releases Donald, then grabs Victoria using a web to sling her safely to the ground.

When he turns back to get you and Gabi, he feels something grab his ankle.

Donald is hanging on by a thread, using the last bit of his strength to attempt to drag Miguel away.

Miguel kicks him off hard, the sound of bones cracking as Donald’s grip fails.

Everything feels too fast and too slow. The building is falling, fast, fast, fast, and his steps are slow, slow, slow. After what feels like a lifetime, he grabs you and Gabi slinging a web, yanking the three of you out of the building and onto a nearby balcony.

You collapse onto the ground, hyperventilating, and Gabi is sobbing, clinging to him, so tight he’s afraid she might accidentally choke him.

He kneels down, one hand on Gabi’s back, the other gently raising your head. “It’s over, y/n, you’re safe.”

You fling yourself at him, sobbing into his shoulder, shallow, frantic breaths a harsh symphony alongside Gabi’s own sobs.

“It’s alright, you’re safe, both of you. I’m here, I’ll always protect you, it’s over now.” He soothes, pressing a kiss to the crown of Gabi’s head, then yours.

“I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do, Miguel, I—I thought we were going to di—”

“No, never. I’ll always find you; I’ll always save you, both of you. You’re my girls, nothing is more precious than you two.” His voice is firm but gentle, even though he’s trembling too.

“Papá, I couldn’t do anything, my powers didn’t work.” Gabi sobs.

The three of you have been testing Gabi’s powers for a few weeks now, in between you and Miguel going on secret dates. She’s come a long way, and he’s proud of the progress she’s making, but he never wanted her to think she had to handle a supervillain on her own. Not now, she’s still a baby, his baby.

His heart is shattered, and he holds her tighter. “Oh mija, that’s okay, this was an adult mess not a kid mess, this wasn’t for you to handle.”

He didn’t lose her, she’s right here, his daughter is safe.

Your breathing finally begins to calm, but you keep your head buried in Miguel’s shoulder, your grip on him bone-crushingly tight, but he doesn’t mind.

“You kept her safe for me y/n, thank you.” He whispers.

You pull back slowly, wiping the tears from your face. “Miguel…I didn’t do anything, you saved us, you kept us safe.”

“You kept her safe y/n, you kept her as calm as possible for the situation. You did the best you could, and I’m proud of you.”

You beam at him, a watery, shaky smile, but a smile, nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost either of you.” He admits scanning the area before his mask disappears.

“I…I can’t imagine my life without you two, I know it sounds crazy but, I just can’t.” You breathe, your eyes locked on his, searching them for something.

“Marry me.” He says. It’s spontaneous, ridiculous, completely inappropriate, and you’re probably going to think he’s insane but—

“Yes, yes, yes, I’ll marry you.” You say, flinging your arms around his neck and crashing your lips to his.

He’s ecstatic, especially when Gabi begins to cheer, her tears instantly drying up.

“Yay! New mom! Ms. Y/N is my mom!” She cheers, wriggling between you and him.

He opens his arms wider and crushes you both to his chest. “I love you, both of you, more than—”

“Boss, hi, sorry, umm your ex-wife is at your apartment.” Lyla chimes in, a sour look on her face.

“¡Ay coño!” Trsl: Oh fuck

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars

[spechblend]

My Guide to Patch/Crust DIY Pants That No One Asked For:

(If you see this guide go through changes, you’re not crazy, I update it all the time)

I’ve noticed that my DIY pants had been noticed on here, so I’d thought I make a guide for new punks getting into the scene 💖

I’ve been in the punk scene for a little over two years now, so don’t take everything I say to heart, I’ve got lots to learn.

Typically, you want to start out with a good base. For instance, the pants you choose can make or break your project. I don’t suggest buying super expensive pants, but don’t buy them super low quality either. You want something that lasts, as crust or patch pants are meant to be your only pair.

EDIT: Before I start any new project, I look around my stuff to see if I can repurpose anything. Old T shirts, bed sheets, bags, you name it. It’s so much easier to repurpose your stuff before buying new things, and you save money doing it. Before you buy pants, see if you can find a pair you already own! I had to buy new ones because I only had one other pair of jeans that I wear to work.

I’ve seen some tutorials floating around for DIY can spikes. Please be very careful doing this. If you’re moshing in a vest made with cut up aluminum, you can seriously hurt someone if you’re not careful. Be on the safe side and either borrow/buy pre made studs and spikes or save the DIY can spikes for non-moshing vests/pants/cuffs.

If you’re moshing with any studs or spikes at ALL, they should be blunt!!!

Good places to buy pants

Thrift (it’s a bit of a crapshoot if you have a hard time finding sizes, but if they’ve lasted long enough to end up in a thrift store, then it means they’re more likely good quality. Check the tags!!)

Edited above, been informed of how Goodwill treats disabled employees

ASOS (I recommend if you have a hard time finding your size. I can’t guarantee the sustainability of this site though.)

Mercari (Like an online goodwill. I find a lot of awesome clothes on here. You can download the app.)

Depop (I seldom shop on here, but similar to Mercari with a wider range of brands.)

How the Pants Should Fit

The fit of your pants can also affect how they lay on you. I suggest buying pants slightly larger on you, if you’re covering them in patches. When you start sewing, you’re going to find that they’re going to shrink a little bit. So please avoid tight fitting jeans if you can! Straight or relaxed fit are the best.

EDIT: If skinny/fitting pants are all you got, sometimes making relief cuts at the knees help when you try to bend down.

Patches

Patches are going to be what makes your pants unique! There’s quite a few you can choose from: plain patches, band patches, politics patches, etcetera. If you’re going to cover the entirety of your pants, I suggest going to Joann’s or Michaels (fuck Hobby Lobby) for fabric. Buy a yard or two canvas or pleather (or both). Otherwise, I usually cut up old T-shirts for my fabric.

How to Make Your Own Patches

Stencil (very straightforward, here’s a guide) (please check out Anarchostensilism on insta/Tiktok/Deviantart)

Paint (Buy white/black stencil fabric paint. I don’t suggest acrylic, since it’s not made to move with fabric)

Where to Buy Pre Printed Patches

crustpunks.com (Hella good, fast shipping, affordable!! Made by punks for punks)

nuclearwasteunderground.com (I found this one randomly)

Etsy (While I hate them for the way they treat their sellers, unfortunately this can be a main source of income for some.)

Shows, punk meets, friends

If you’re going to make crust pants, it’s imperative that you have crust bands on your patches, that’s what makes them crust! (Apart from never washing them)

Edit: I would do your own research on the crust punk subculture, there’s a lot of discourse out there on what makes punks crust punks and so on.

Washing your pants is not a black and white rule, but you can ruin the integrity of your work if you carelessly throw them in the washer. Like if you were to throw a suede jacket into the washer, there’s certain steps to take!

Here’s an enlightening guide on crust.

Here’s some crust band recs!

Nausea

Anti Cimex

Dystopia (my favorite)

disrupt

Doom

Heresy

Discharge

Amebix

Things to Add to Your Pants

Buttons (you can buy or make your own. Here’s a guide for DIY bottle cap buttons)

Pockets (easy to monkey wrench with a few spare patches, but here’s a pattern)

Handkerchiefs (the hankey code, much like the lace code, is pretty much dead. But it’s up to you if you want to signal something with it.)

Wallet chains (here’s a cool guide to making your own!)

Bum flap (by far the coolest thing on this list. Makes your ass not hurt when you sit on the sidewalk. Here’s a video)

Make them convertible (I made mine into zip off shorts. Here’s a video)

I made this up, but I added removable knee pads to mine.

Pant Inspiration

Have no shame in taking reference! Here’s are some cool accounts with awesome pants!

carnifexofhate

dontditchitstitchit

no_name_no_reason

okshrimpet

annals_of_the_crustwar

a_lifeisabuse_e

That’s all I got! Remember to never wash your pants ✨

[rewh0re]

700+ words, I was watching sex education and idk I just was itching to write this, I've not written like 20 days pls go easy on me, tbh idk what this is I wrote this in like half an hour fml. Idek if I'll put it in my masterlist we'll see

Loving Reo came easy. He was lovely in all aspects. He was caring, calm, considerate and over all he treated you like you deserved the world. You felt yourself around him. He made you feel carefree.

Reo was what people would term as the perfect boyfriend. He would be willing to give you a ride to school, invite you over to his house, and make you meet his parents. He would take you out on the best dates known to mankind, starting from a cute french cafe to the bit on the expensive side Italian restaurant downtown. Reo let you choose the movies on date nights where you stayed over, and he watched it all without a complaint. Even if the movie was one he was not quite a huge fan of.

Your parents loved Reo. They called him 'the famous Mikage Reo' because recently all you ever actually talked to them about was him. Introducing your boyfriend to your parents went way better than you expected. Did they embarrass you? Absolutely. Did Reo playfully tease you about it? Also absolutely. Did that make you unhappy though? No. Maybe a bit of faux anger yes but not unhappy. It felt so right. You had never introduced your previous partners to your parents before but introducing Reo to them felt like the correct thing to do. He was charming. An absolute charmer. Your dad could easily converse about the stock market with him and your mom somehow coaxed the fact out that he baked at times. It was a lovely night that, when it ended and your boyfriend had to depart for his own home, made you a tad bit melancholic.

You bid him farewell and he promised to call once he got home. Dear old you and your dear old habit of being concerned.

"Well did you get home safe?" You enquired through the phone, lying down on your bed.

"Yeah. Yeah I did. You know, my driver wouldn't try and kidnap me," Reo chuckled, clearly joking.

"I know that! It's just...... I am just making sure you're okay. What? Can I not worry about my boyfriend anymore," Reo couldn't see you but he felt your embarrassment through the line. He smiled softly.

"Of Course you can," he sighed. It felt good to be cared for by someone, he thought. It felt good to be cared for by you.

"I gotta go now. Need to complete my homework," you chuckled out as you put an arm over your eyes, grinning wide, cheeks a bit hued because Reo always had that effect on you.

"Bye. Sleep on time I'll see you tomorrow," he said quietly and you thought that this was the right time. You had to say it.

"Oh! Oh! Before you cut the call I wanted to say something," you felt the sudden nerves taking over your body, a mix of excitement and a bit of anxiety as you felt the purple haired boy ask you what it was you needed to say.

"Uhm, I love you Reo," you sucked in a breath, grinning wide, excited for him to say it back.

All you could hear was silence. The line went absolutely quiet and your face morphed into confusion before you checked your phone to see if he was still on call. He was.

"Reo?" Your voice turned into one of concern.

"Oh!" Your voice seemed to bring him back to life. "Well that's uhm.....that's uh.....nice to hear y/n. That's really good to hear."

His nervous chuckle dissipated all the previous excitement you felt. You breathed in as if to gather yourself together but slowly, tears started building up in your waterline. He didn't say it back. He didn't fucking say it back.

You quickly cut the call without saying anything in return. You blinked a few times to make the tears go away. So what if he didn't say it back? You thought. It doesn't have to shatter you. But it did. Somehow, somewhere a small part of you broke.

Reo was truly the perfect boyfriend, you believed that with your whole heart. However, maybe he didn't really love you back the same way you loved him.

[w1ldthoughts]

Top of the Food Chain

Anon Requested

Disclaimer: this is a work of FICTION, the characters are fictionalized versions of real life situations and real people. It’s all based on my imagination.

Masterlist

This was all a part of the gig. People assumed things about you, people talked. They sometimes even asked you questions that you couldn’t believe you were hearing, especially from the other moms at Remi’s preschool.

Does your husband give you a weekly allowance?

Do you have a credit card exclusively to shop?

Are any of his teammates single?

You hated the politics. The fake smiles and even more fake compliments when you knew that they were probably talking about you behind your back. The school itself was amazing though and gave your daughter the freedom to be a kid without completely invading her privacy. So in turn, if all you had to do was rub elbows with some people who you weren’t the biggest fan of, it was a small sacrifice that you were absolutely willing to make.

Part of those small sacrifices was following rules and guidelines set for school sponsored events. Remi’s school was hosting a bake sale tonight to raise funds for a local family’s medical expenses. Justin really didn’t want to go after you’d been telling him the various drop-off stories about the other parents so he suggested writing a check and skipping the whole thing.

“I did not bake these vegan, gluten-free, peanut free, yet still delicious football brownies for no reason. Plus, I already promised Remi she could have some treats today. Do you really want to explain to her that she’s going to be staying home while all of her friends eat dessert at school? Be my guest.”

He looks at you like he’s really thinking about it, but then he remembers his baby’s sweet face talking about how excited she was this morning and he can’t disappoint her. “You know what? I’m actually ready to go. I’ll go get Remi and we can leave.”

You continue to pack up your brownies in your trays as you laugh to yourself. She really does have him wrapped around her little fingers.

Thing One and Thing Two waltz back into the kitchen as soon as you’re done and Remi’s eyes bulge out of her head.

“Mama, those look yummy. Are you a chef?” She asks, looking amazed. She’s been really big on compliments lately, always calling her dad “handsome” because she heard you say it once.

“I am a chef sometimes, only for you though sweet girl. Are you ready to go back to school?”

She nods excitedly, holding her hands out for Justin to carry her. “We going to the cookie party?”

“We are going to the cookie party,” he coos, “but remember mini, we’re only getting three treats, so you have to choose your favorites and that’s it. Deal?”

“Deal.“ She gives him a kiss on the cheek and he gives you a wink before heading into the garage to get her settled.

The entire car ride consisted of Remi making guesses on what snacks people were going to bring and how she couldn’t wait to see her friends.

Luckily when your husband pulled into the parking lot there weren’t very many people there. Remi insisted on helping you carry in a tray of brownies and was walking very carefully next to you so she wouldn’t drop them.

“I got it mama. I’m strong.”

“Yes you are sugar. Thank you for being such an amazing helper.” You gave her a smile which she happily returns.

Justin walks behind the two of you, smiling to himself at the sweet interaction. Remi was definitely a daddy’s girl but she also worshipped the ground you walked on and it was a funny thing to see. He was definitely her best friend and she wanted to spend every waking moment in life with him but nobody could convince the three year old that you weren’t a Disney princess. And if anyone asked her who her favorite Disney princess was, she’d say her mommy, because no one in this world was more magical to her than you.

The three of you had almost made it inside before a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh hi Herbert family! I’m so glad you all could make it. Wasn’t sure it fit into your busy schedule.” She said the last part not so subtly playing with her hair while staring at Justin.

He gives her a sideways glance before forcing a smile. “Well we promised Remi she could have some special treats tonight and didn’t want to go back on that promise.” On cue, your daughter handed you the other tray of brownies, feeling her arms getting tired and knowing this would be a long conversation.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Mason’s mom, you just couldn’t remember her name and it was too late to ask. She was also the main person always in your business about being an NFL wife like it was some secret society she was dying to be a part of. She batted her eyes through her lash extensions and give your husband another look. “Justin if you don’t mind, could you please help me carry these cupcakes inside? I may have gone overboard and now I can’t carry all of these by myself.”

“Sure,” he sighs, leaning into her car and grabbing three trays. Mason and Remi were already starting to walk inside so you hesitantly followed them, not wanting to leave Justin alone.

“Ugh, you are an absolute lifesaver.” She runs a hand down his arm before grabbing the rest of the cupcakes and heads inside, keeping the distance between them minimal.

With the evening the full swing, you were at your wit’s end. It was like watching a pack of hyenas fighting each other for a piece of meat. Every time you looked someone was pulling him away to offer him their dessert or to ask him questions in a flirty tone. One mom even went as far as asking him when she’d be invited to a game. You couldn’t roll your eyes anymore or they might get stuck in the back of your head. So you tried to drown your sour feelings in a root beer float while watching your daughter play with her classmates.

You sat alone at one of the tables and Remi came to find you to give you her three treats she was taking home. Before you could say anything, she was gone and back to playing tag. A warm hand on your shoulder eased your annoyance, only slightly. “Are you clocking out for the night?” You giggle at his look of exhaustion. His social meter probably ran out 30 minutes ago.

Giving you a pointed look, he grabs your drink off the table and starts digging in as you rub his back. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to fake laugh this much in my entire life. Not even during interviews. Those women can talk.”

“Definitely that, they love Justin Herbert. Especially Mason’s mom.” You tried to keep the bite out of your tone, you really did. His shoulders perked up at your comment but the ice cream was really taking up a lot of his attention.

“Isabel?” Oh…that was her name. “Yeah she was laying it on pretty thick but she’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” You scoff, “I saw her carry two 15 pound boxes last week and now that you’re here suddenly she’s a damsel in distress? I’m not buying it.”

“Easy tiger I’m on your side here.” He jokes, clearly amused, even if you weren’t. “You know…it’s really cute when you’re jealous.” Justin scoots his chair closer and puts a hand on your thigh.

“I’m not jealous I just don’t like that she keeps staring at you like she’s trying to picture you naked.” It wasn’t the first time she’d acted this way and it was just really…gross to watch.

He looks over at where Isabel is standing and she gives him a wave before he turns his back to her, whispering in your ear, “well you don’t have to picture it…you’ve seen it.”

“You’re right, I should tell her that.”

“Babe,” he shakes his head with a small laugh. “You remember Remington right? About 3 feet tall, blonde hair, green eyes, adorable little voice? We made an actual child together. I think she knows we’ve seen each other naked. A few times.”

Taking a deep breath, you allow your husband to bring you back down to Earth. You place your hand on top of his and hold on tight. Sometimes it felt like his hands were made to hold yours. The look you give each other is enough to discourage any other woman from coming up to him the rest of the night. It was a look of love in its purest form, like two souls that had worked tirelessly to find each other. And now that they had, there was no letting go.

A few minutes later Remi found her way into Justin’s arms. ”Mama, I need my bed.” You can tell how serious she is by the way she’s rubbing her eyes with her fist.

“I hear you sister, I need my bed too. Maybe it’s time for us to go home?”

She nods slowly and the three of you stand up, with one of Justin’s arms holding Remi and one hand wrapped in yours. He was definitely ready to get his girls home.

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter one

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: look a new series! Two things inspired this (besides my everlasting love for the Batman): @bellaxgiornata's angsty Daredevil fic All These Years, and @neutron-stars-collision's Waiting For the Night (which also features an investigative reporter reader, but is set during the film). If you're here because you loved motn, welcome back! If not, check out my other battinson fics here!

(side note: I know this is a reader insert and Dory is canonically white, but reader could be adopted. I never clarify that)

Series Masterlist

word count: 3k

“Both of them are–?” Y/n choked on the last word, unable to get it past the back of her throat. But she thought it anyway. Dead. 

It was early, too early, her pajamas and hair still rumpled from sleep. Three hours until her alarm would go off. The faux hardwood floors were cold beneath her feet. The warmth of her bed was a thousand miles away. Her heart still pounded from being woken by a harsh knocking at her door. When she’d checked the time on her phone, she had four hours of missed calls from Alfred and two from an unknown number.

Alfred put a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He was the last of her family now, though he didn’t share her blood. “I’m so sorry, darling girl.” 

Y/n’s grandmother, Dory, the woman who raised her, gone. Along with her daughter, y/n’s mother, the woman who abandoned her as a child. Both gone in one fell swoop. She can’t find it within herself to grieve too much for the woman who gave her life. She’d already abandoned her, over and over, the grief lessening each time. 

But her grandmother–A strangled noise passed her lips and Alfred hurried to step in to embrace her.

“She had a great life,” he said gently. “She lived long and lived well.” 

And somehow, it helped. Alfred had been in her grandmother’s life longer than she had, and therefore knew her better. She had lived well, her life long and full. She was eighty-five years old and had still been in relatively good shape, physically and mentally. 

Alfred held her while she cried, the minutes stretching long yet sharp. They pierced her over and over, each one a moment in which her grandmother no longer existed. She didn’t know how long she cried, only that it was nearly impossible to stop. 

“Bruce is covering all expenses, of course,” Alfred said as he released her. 

The name raced through her like a bolt of electricity. Bruce. Of course she had to see Bruce. Dory had worked for his family for nearly fifty years, after all. Her mind flashed back to her last conversation with Bruce, almost three years ago to the day. Hurt washed over her all over again. This one was different than the grief but just as sharp.

“That’s…too kind.” It’s the best she could do. Besides, her income as a journalist in Bludhaven wasn’t exactly enough to cover one funeral, let alone two. So she couldn’t tell Bruce to take his money and shove it. She knew it was a gesture of obligation not of goodwill. 

“You know you and Dory are our family,” Alfred said, his familiar accent a balm to her nerves. He hadn’t missed the almost visceral reaction to Bruce’s name. He had always known, even though he hadn’t ever said a word. 

She almost scoffed at the word family, but held it back at the last moment. Alfred was her family. Just as Bruce had been her family, once. 

I don’t have time for you, he’d practically snarled the last time she saw him. 

The words still ached. 

“Do you want to drive back with me?” Alfred asked, his voice pulling her from thoughts of the past. “Or I can get a hotel for the night if you need time to pack.” 

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to refuse, to wait until the absolute last minute to leave, to delay seeing Bruce again for as long as possible. But she owed it to her grandmother, at least, to be present for the plans honoring her life. And she was sure she needed to sign some paperwork to have the bodies released. 

Bodies. It’s a shock to think of them that way. Two people, two souls, reduced to shells in one accident. 

Her mind jumped to her last conversation with Dory, the previous Sunday. Four days ago. Now she was simply…gone. Had she told her she loved her? She couldn’t remember now, no matter how hard she tried. 

The ache was back, the tears flowing without her express permission. 

“No, let me just–grab a bag and we can go now. I’ll call work on the way.” It helped to have a manageable list of things to do. Pack. Go with Alfred. Call work. Sign papers. One step, one breath, one moment at a time. Which would be the same way she would handle seeing Bruce again. 

Thankfully the editor of The Bludhaven Tribune was more friend than boss and would completely understand. Besides, if it came down to it, she had a couple of weeks of unused vacation time saved up. Dory had always made the trip to her–at least for the past three years. She had understood the need to stay away from Gotham and the man who had broken y/n’s heart. So her vacation days were rarely used. 

Within an hour, y/n’s bags were packed and a fresh cup of coffee was waiting in the cupholder of Alfred’s car. The cold air was a shock to her overloaded system. Her chest was too tight, her breathing labored. She couldn’t tell what was hurting worse–the grief for her grandmother or the anxiety of seeing Bruce again. 

A silly, hopeless crush, he’d said three years ago. 

A silly, hopeless crush that still hadn’t gone away, despite the fact that he’d effectively ground her heart to dust beneath his heel with the words. 

A few minutes into the drive, another question bubbled to the surface. “Alfred…” she began, unsure how to find the bravery to ask. “Did she suffer? Did they suffer?” Because, as many times as her mother had broken her heart, she was still her mother. 

Alfred was quiet so long that she feared the worst. But then, finally, “I don’t believe so, no. Your mother was driving. Dory was the passenger, where the impact was. And before you ask, your mother was clean.” 

She did flinch this time.

It had been her first thought. She was glad of the answer though, twisted as it sounded. 

She knew exactly why they were driving together. Because she used to take her grandmother to her appointments, but after leaving Gotham three years ago…it became harder and harder to make the time in the middle of the week. 

And, surprisingly, y/n’s mother had stepped in. She wanted to make amends, her grandmother had told her. She’d scoffed at that, but couldn’t deny the relief that had washed over her. She loved her grandmother, but having to pick her up from Wayne Tower was a particular kind of torture. The place held too many memories, both good and bad, now so inextricably linked that the pain bled into the happier memories. 

“How long has it been since you’ve been back?” Alfred asked quietly, as if reading her mind. 

Her hands knotted in her lap. “In Gotham or…?” She let the rest of the question hang in the air. Or at Wayne Tower? Or in Bruce Wayne’s presence? Because all three had slightly different answers. 

Alfred gave her a look before turning his attention back to the road. 

Y/n sighed softly. “Three years, give or take a few weeks.” 

“You never came inside when picking up Dory?” 

“No.” Her heart clenched with pain. “That’s why my mother…” 

Alfred nodded in understanding. “Maybe this can be…a new beginning,” he finally said. “Things are different. I think he needs you more than either of you realize.” 

No need to ask who he was. She wanted to roll her eyes, but Alfred meant well. Of course he wanted her and Bruce to make up, to go back to the way things were. 

He didn’t know how thoroughly Bruce Wayne broke her heart. 

“Then Bruce can apologize.” She crossed her arms. Because, as much as she still loved him, Bruce had been in the wrong, not her. It had taken him a long time to turn his anger on her, but he finally had…right after she had confessed her feelings for him. 

Y/n spent the rest of the drive in silence, the grief for her grandmother numbing her inside and out even as it warred with the anxiety gnawing at her gut. 

She thought about how it would feel to step into Wayne Tower again. How it would feel to step inside and not be greeted with a warm embrace from her grandmother. With her love. With her understanding. With her gentle manipulations to get her to help her with the housekeeping duties for free.

A few tears slipped out. God, she was gone. Y/n would never again hug her or speak to her or have her tell a story to help her fall asleep–something that happened even as an adult. Something she had done to help ease the heartbreak of three years ago.

She startled as a hand took hers. Alfred said nothing, merely squeezed. 

When she looked up, the city of Gotham was spread before her. She saw the neon lights from Gotham Square Garden near the city center, bright despite the early morning hour. Fog wound its way through the streets, a proper gloomy Gotham welcome to suit her mood. 

Though Bludhaven wasn’t far, it was much sunnier than the city of her birth. 

In the past year since the flood, Gotham became even gloomier. The streets were dirtier, darker, half the streetlights still broken. She remembered suddenly, vividly, the fear she’d felt upon hearing the news. She’d been called into work late at night last November. The office had been chaotic, frantic, Gotham’s nearest big city neighbor gearing up to help but also to tell the stories. 

Y/n is ashamed to admit that her first thought hadn’t been of her grandmother. 

It was of Bruce. 

Alfred, she had known, had been safe in the top floors of the hospital. She’d returned from a visit only the day before. The panic from the news of the explosion, caused by a serial killer, had barely worn off. Even after seeing Alfred was okay with her own eyes, she felt a lingering panic. Even after Alfred told her that Bruce hadn’t been home at the time and was perfectly fine.  

But Bruce–and by extension Dory–were unknown variables in the flooding. Had they been evacuated? Had either been present for the new mayor’s event? Had they remained safe in the tower, partially blown up as it was? 

She had waited sixteen excruciating hours before finally hearing that they were safe. Unharmed, even. 

The air around y/n suddenly darkened. While she was daydreaming of the past, they had reached their destination. Alfred pulled into the private, street level parking garage reserved for family only. There were several other cars there, including Bruce’s favorite classic sports car. The sight of the car alone made her chest ache. 

Y/n stared vacantly at the car. She startled as Alfred suddenly opened her door with her bags in his hand.

She blinked slowly, dazed. 

It was too much to deal with. Losing her family, coming back to Gotham, back to Bruce…She wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. It felt like eons since the Alfred at her door woke her, though it was only a couple of hours at most. 

As she followed Alfred to the private elevator, she wondered if Bruce would avoid her. If he would hide from the uncomfortable as he so often did. Part of her hoped he did. Part of her hoped she could get through everything without seeing him. But that was stupid. He would be, at the very least, at the funerals. 

Another wave of grief nearly knocked her over. She had to bury the last bit of blood relations she had. Had. The past tense was another unavoidable wave threatening to drown her. Her mother and grandmother both only existed in the past now. 

Y/n suddenly realized that that was how Bruce had been feeling for two decades. The feeling of being utterly alone in the universe, no one but himself left with his family name, his family legacy. But his was worse, so much worse. She had, at least, had her family for twice as long as he had. And that counted for something. 

The elevator ride was long and slow. Or maybe that was grief and panic warping time until she had no idea if the ride had just started or was about to end. Despite getting almost seven hours of sleep from a rare early night, she was exhausted. Her limbs were made of lead, her eyes heavy, her brain begging to be switched off. 

The smell alone, the particular blend of dust and old paper, was enough to make her knees weak. Ten thousand memories flooded back all at once, so many of them that she couldn’t fixate on any single one. 

The doors slid open and Alfred stepped out with her bags. 

But she had to press a hand to the wall of the elevator to steady herself as a familiar deep voice rang out in the silence. “That was fast,” Bruce said. God, his voice. “Did she decide to stay until the last moment then?” 

Alfred didn’t answer, because y/n’s presence stepping from the elevator was enough. 

Her heart was somewhere in her throat, or maybe her knees. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to look at him and see the indifference he now felt for her. She couldn’t look at him and hold a thousand more memories. 

She couldn’t look at him and love him, knowing he didn’t feel the same. 

The silence was deafening and finally, finally, she tore her eyes from the floor and looked up. 

There was a rush in her ears as she beheld him for the first time in three years. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of a pair of dark, well-worn jeans. His shirt was too big for him and his hair–his hair was longer. Her eyes skipped over him hungrily, noticing more and more differences in the person she used to know better than herself. 

He was taller, for one. She thought men stopped growing at twenty-five years old, or something like that. Or maybe it was the way he held himself, like he was more sure of his place in the world. And his shoulders were more broad, his arms more muscular. Bruce had all at once become…a man. Not that he hadn’t been a man three years before, but something about him was…more.

There were heavy bags beneath his eyes, like he hadn't slept. And, she supposed, if he was the one who had answered the call about her grandmother and mother, he likely hadn’t. 

She realized that they both had been staring at each other in silence. Alfred half-stepped out of the foyer like he couldn’t decide whether or not to give them privacy or stay to make sure they wouldn’t tear out each others’ throats. She wondered what Bruce had told him about their fight. Had it been the truth? Or had he played it close to the vest, like always? 

“Hi,” she finally said. Her mouth was dry and her voice cracked on the word. There was so much she wanted to say to him. Thank you and I’m sorry and I still love you even if you hate me were all warring to be first. 

“Hi,” he said back. His blue eyes pinned her to the spot. They seemed bluer, or maybe she had forgotten the exact shade of them. She wanted to close her eyes and sink into the familiar comfort of him, but those days were far gone. Three years gone. 

“I–” She wasn’t sure what words would come out but the need to fill the silence was too great. 

He beat her to it. “I’m so sorry,” he said. She knew he meant about her family and not about three years before. She knew it in the way she knew most things about him, born of the sheer amount of time they spent together throughout their lives. Even with three years separating their last interaction, she could still read him. Maybe not as well as she used to but still well enough. 

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She couldn’t say It’s okay, because it wasn’t. Or, I missed you, even though she did. Or even Thank you, because he hadn’t done anything other than offer to pay for the funerals. 

“Your old room is ready,” Bruce said and his eyes flickered away. Was he so tired of her already? 

I don’t have time for you and your silly, useless crush. The words seemed to echo in the air. Was he able to hear them too? 

“Who–” 

“She kept it ready for you,” Bruce said and his voice softened, easing the blow. 

A stray tear escaped.

Of course she had. Y/n’s grandmother was nothing if not optimistic. 

She had to take a breath and close her eyes against the wash of pain. Dory had kept her room ready for her, even knowing that Bruce Wayne broke her heart, even knowing she wouldn’t step foot inside Wayne Tower again unless absolutely necessary. 

As always, y/n’s grandmother had ensured that she always had a place to come home to. You’ll always have a home with me, she had said the day y/n left Gotham. 

She stepped away, eyes still closed, feet knowing the way by heart. When she opened them, she saw Bruce’s hand fall, as if he had reached out, perhaps to comfort her. 

The pain of that missing touch was too much. 

She simply nodded once. 

And then she fled. 

Her childhood bedroom was exactly as she had left it three years ago, free of dust, the linens on the bed so fresh she could still smell the detergent. 

She threw herself onto the bed and finally let herself cry. 

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld

[partyanimal167]

A Win-Win Situation- Rayleigh x F!Reader

I had to drop a bag at the mechanic two days ago, and to literally keep myself from not crying, I was coming up with a fic idea to make the situation sexier and not depressing 😅 This popped up, and I was just like, 'At least I can finally write for Rayleigh.' I also told my friend, and he supported doing what you needed to do because damn do autoshops scare me.

CW: modern au, black fem reader, age gap, very light dubcon, smut, praise kink, daddy kink, MDNI

You only expected to get the tires rotated. So when the man started talking about parts and labor costs, you were ready for the earth to swallow you up whole.

You were confident about a lot of things. You could do most adulting tasks like clean, organize your bills, plan a trip, etc. But cars...weren't your area of expertise. But you managed for awhile, so you didn't worry too much! You watched videos and knew that there were things you needed to get done to maintain the vehicle.

So you went to get your tires rotated. Easy. Nothing to worry about....until, the guy pointed out that your check engine light was on. He must have seen the way you stiffened and tried to keep your expression calm.

The man gave you a sweet, flirty smile and waved his hand. "Don't worry too much, sweetheart. I'm actually a bit packed today, but an old friend owns a shop on the next street over. He should be able to check it out. Shouldn't cost you much either."

You bit your lip nervously as you rocked a little. "Really?"

"Of course! Tell 'im Shanks sent you. He'll take really good care of you."

~~~

You shyly stepped out of your car in front of the older shop where a radio played throwbacks and a fan blew strongly.

You walked quietly through the open garage door where a person stood under a lifted car with a welder's mask on. "Uh, excuse me" you raised your voice a little since you weren't sure if they'd be able to hear.

The body looked up at you before stepping from under the car and turning to take off the welding hood.

You weren't ready for the kind, sweet older man to beam at you. His glasses were somehow spotless despite the hood. After he wiped his hands on a rag, he pulled his long, gray hair out of its ponytail. "Hi dear, how can I help you today?"

You fidgeted with your hands a little. "Huh, I was just trying to get my tires rotated, but my check engine light is on. The guy, Shanks, said I should come see you." you explained.

The man nodded. "Ah the boy. Yes of course I can help you." he wiped his hairline and sipped his water. "Shame you're out here in this heat. That boyfriend of yours shouldn't be having you out running car errands either."

Your cheeks warmed up, and you scratched one nervously. "I don't have a boyfriend." you softly corrected.

The man handed you a water bottle. "Well that can be fixed--easily." he chuckled. Before you could ask what he met, he held out his hand, and you gave him his keys. "I'm Rayleigh by the way." You nodded and with your own. "Beautiful, what a pleasure."

You stepped to the side as the man drove your car in and took out a little gadget to hook up to your car. You watched a bit confused as he pressed some buttons and frowned at the screen.

The sun continued to beam down, so you were glad you were wearing your short shorts and cropped hoodie, but you weren't expecting to be out alone with just you and the older man. The other shop had a lot of people coming in and out. You wiped your brow and chugged some of your water as you eyed the older man. You didn't feel too nervous though. Rayleigh seemed nice. He was all gentle smiles and had a calm demeanor. Plus, he looked good for his age. You bet he was a real lady killer in his day.

"I'm going to be honest, love. I think one of your catalytic converter is shot. We're going to need to replace it." the man sighed as he closed the door and looked over to you.

You blinked twice. "That's the expensive part, right?"

The man chuckled at your wording and nodded. "I'm afraid so. But don't worry. I won't charge you an arm and a leg." he assured you. You rocked the on your heels a little as you nibbled a little on your lip. "That's what Shanks said..."

"Let's get you out this heat." you entered a small office and sat at the desk. Rayleigh handed you another water bottle before taking off his denim jacket. You nearly choked. This man is jacked. He had on a white tee, but you weren't expecting the way his muscles filled it in. "You okay there?"

You cleared your throat and met a mischievous look. Hopefully, he didn't notice your stares. You nodded. He grinned as he typed away at his computer. "So I need to order the part, but I think including labor we're looking at this amount." he filled out an invoice and circled the total. Rayleigh watched as your body went rigid and he sighed. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I wish it could be less. I-,"

"Oh no, it's fine! You have a business to run of course," you gave a little nervous smile. Rayleigh gave you a once over before that innocent smile was back.

"Come here, princess."

You whipped your head up. "Excuse me?"

Rayleigh pushed away from the desk a little and patted a spot in front of him. "Come sit."

You stood and walked around the desk and sat. You gasped as your hand was taken and a soft kiss was placed on it. "You can't go giving an old man ideas especially with the way you're looking at me." you gasped in response. "We can do a little trade. What do you say? Let's see how many rounds you can last, and I'll make some adjustments." You were surprised by the challenge, but it excited you all the same. The old man seemed experienced. Plus, there was no way he was going to out last you either. It was an easy win-win.

~~~

"Fuck daddy, daddy!" your legs were shaking as the man continued to pump his fingers inside as you sat in his lap. You gripped tightly on his shoulders as you bounced up and down.

Rayleigh grinned meanly at you. "What's wrong, dear? It's only been two so far. I'm trying to be nice here. Can't you give me some more?" The man went back to licking and sucking on your nipples as you moaned and sobbed. Your walls started clenching on his fingers once more and you whined as he put more pressure on your clit with the heel of his palm. "Ah there we go. Good girl, I knew you could do it." He sucked a hickey right below your ear. "You flatter this old man with how you sound. Is it good?"

"Yes!" you groaned as you tipped over that mountain again.

It took you a couple moments to catch your breath, and when you were present again, you realized you were on the desk looking up at the man who didn't even have a hair out of place. That sweet smile was there, but with the three orgasms he just gave you, it was so deceiving. Your face was burning, and you let your eyes trail down to see his member out and proud. It was girthy and hard. You could see the veins that ran down and the streams of precum that had been leaking. You whimpered.

"I wanna suck it, daddy." your eyes glossed over, and your cheeks were shiny with tears.

The man groaned at the sight. He'd have to thank Shanks for sending you over. He shook his head. "Ah ah, no sweetheart. You can do that next time. This is your reward for being so good for me, princess." He lifted your hood and spread some of juices around. "Deep breath now," and he sunk in.

You cried out deliriously. He filled you so well and stretched you more than you expected even with prep. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him even closer. Rayleigh chuckled before pushing in further. "Fuck, you feel so good, love. Such a naughty girl just for carrying around this good pussy, shit." the man huffed as he started up a slow but strong rhythm.

Skin slapped against another loudly, and you were drowning it. It was too much yet not enough at the same time. Rayleigh grunted deliciously near your ear and cooed about how pretty you were, how good you felt, how he wanted to keep you around and fill you up. You clenched around him more and more, and he sped up. "I'll give it to you, baby. Good girl wants to get pumped full?"

"Yes, yes! Please, let me- uh uh, let me have it please." You cried out. You moaned as you were kissed deeply and felt your tongues twirled around. "Fuck, fuck! I'm gonna cum, daddy. I'm gonna cum. Fuck, yes!" Your orgasm hit you hard; you saw pure white in your eyes as you crashed and rode that wave into pleasure.

"So good. So good! I'll give it to you princess. Just take it," Rayleigh continued on and huffed loudly, glasses finally falling off. He gripped the back of your thighs as he finished and milked himself.

The two of stay silent for a moment before you squeaked as you felt fingers stuff you full. "Can't waste a drop." Rayleigh winked.

You looked at him completely stunned.

This was certainly not how you thought the day would go...

~~~

*rereads and blushes* God damn....

I hope I did justice to my mans Rayleigh! I'm just gonna indulge in this fantasy to pretend that I didnt have to drop cash on this damn car...

Thanks for reading!

Part Two

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Biting- Geralt x Vampire!Reader

Description: Your friend Geralt helps to quench more than just your thirst for blood

Word count: 1,673

A snarl sounded deep from your throat, and hissed passed your fanged teeth as Geralt tried to approach you once again.

“I just want to help you, y/n.” He explained gruffly, as he sat back down on the rough ground of the dark cave with a huff.

“A Witcher wanting to help a monster. Seems to go totally against what you are.” You smirk over to your friend, a joke you often make at his expense.

It was rare, if not totally unheard of, for a Witcher to befriend a monster, and yet that’s exactly what happened with yourself and Geralt.

He’d one day been tasked to hunt and kill you, but after finding out that you had only attacked that town because of the vile men that lived within it, he decided to spare you.

Most of your kind feasted on easy prey, innocent people who can’t defend themselves. You decided long ago to use your need for blood to help defend those innocent people, only going after those who deserve it.

“You know with how old you are and how long we’ve been friends, you think you would have thought of a better joke.” He chuckles deeply at you.

“And I would have thought with how old you are, you would have grasped the concept of ‘no’ by now.” You snap back at your friend.

Your head rested against the cave wall as you closed your eyes, trying hard not to focus on the sound of Geralts heartbeat, or his intoxicating smell. It had been too long since you had fed and you were starting to notice. Geralt had offered to let you drink from him, but you couldn’t hurt him.

Geralt had spent the last hour trying to convince you to drink from him, whereas you had spent that time convincing yourself that it was his blood you craved and not the way his skin would feel against your body. Geralt was a friend and you couldn’t cross that boundary with him, no matter how badly you craved to.

You must have been focusing a lot harder then you thought, because the next minute you felt Geralts hand on yours. As your eyes flung open, they glared into the witchers eyes.

The deep red of your eyes and the dangerous look you wore would normally scare anyone, but not Geralt. In fact if anything, it made him more bold. His hand left the top of yours as it made its way slowly up your arm, to gently cup around your neck.

It felt as though you were paralysed, locked in place by his intoxicating scent. Your rational and animalistic mind fighting a battle of wills as his head bent down to whisper in your ear.

“I can smell that it is more than just my blood that you crave.” Geralt whispered seductively in your ear, his other hand now rubbing up and down your inner thigh.

Your self control was bending but not broken, that was until he began to press hot and deep kisses onto your sensitive neck. With feel of his intoxicating kisses on your sensitive skin, and his scent so close, your control fully snapped and you became ravenous.

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pushed him against wall, landing aggressively in his lap as you now straddle his large thighs. With a hand in his hair, you pull his head back to expose his strong neck.

Geralt knew that in your hungry and desperate state that you’d be stronger than him, and honestly he seemed to like it.

“Is this what you wanted, Witcher? Wanted me to lose my composure? To hurt you?” You growled closely in his ear, accentuating your point by tugging at his hair harder and beginning to grind into his lap.

“Yes.” He sighed out, a cheeky smile both in his voice and on his face.

“Are you sure?” You ask seductively, but also as a way to really check this is what he wanted, as you sharp fangs began to lightly trace his neck.

“Mhmmm, I trust you, y/n.” He confirmed breathlessly.

Trying to prove his point or maybe just to get you to hurry up, he put one hand on your ass, to guide your grinding. Whereas the other carded through your hair, pushing your face closer to his neck.

Chuckling into his neck at his obvious excitement and mutual arousal, you began to lightly lick and kiss his neck, wanting to tease him for as long as you could.

With both of your heightened senses, you could both smell just how desperate the two of you were. The strong scent of his arousal and the delicious blood pumping through his body was driving you half mad, but you could hold off just a little longer if it meant teasing the Witcher.

“Y/N, stop teas-“ Geralt was promptly cut off as your fangs bit into his neck.

The feeling of your hot bodies pressed together and the delicious blood finally reaching your mouth, made a fire erupt all through out your body. Once that first drop touched your tongue it was all over.

Your whole arm wrapped around Geralts head, pushing it into your breasts as you began to hump and grind against his growing impressive bulge. You were like a woman possessed, pushing yourself further against him, not being able to get close enough to his body for your liking.

Finally breaking away from his neck, you let out a desperate moan as you began licking and pecking at his wound. You were fed but it still wasn’t enough.

Grabbing him by his white hair once again, you push his head back and away from your breast. Now looking at his face, you see it set in a dazed and dopey smile, hooded eyes looking into yours.

“So tell me, Witcher. Did you just want me to drink your blood or did you want to help me with my other cause of desperation too.” You whispered hotly against his lips, teasing him with an almost kiss.

“Well that’s what friends are for.” He smirks at you.

His once and usual manly stoic look was now wiped away, and instead a lust drunk smile of a boy takes its place. Geralt would not give up control to anyone, but in this cave and with you, it felt like there was no better way.

Smirking and looking into his eyes, you hungrily capture his lips in a searing kiss. The kiss was hungry and desperate, his hands digging into your ass as you begin to unbutton his trousers to release his hard and desperate cock.

Freeing his cock and pulling away to stand up, leaves him grunting in protest.

“So you don’t want me to ride your cock then?” You taunt him as smirk cheekily, beginning to undress yourself.

Geralt quickly began to behave as he watched your little show you began to put on him for him. Each item of clothing revealing more skin that Geralt desperately wanted to lick, kiss and touch.

“Yeh that’s what I thought.” You wink as you straddle his lap once again.

Taking his impressive cock in your hand, you stroke him a few times before lining yourself up with him.

Geralts head is pushed against and the cave wall and his eyes are closed, enjoying every ounce of pleasure that you’re giving him.

“Look at me, Geralt. I want to see your face as I sink down onto your cock.” You gently order, shifting your hips to tease his sensitive head.

Peeling away from the wall, his eyes look both desperately and hungrily into your own. Both begging you to use him and asserting his dominance all at once.

“Good boy.” You cheekily coo as you begin to sink down onto his cock.

You both seem to moan in unison as you hold each others gaze, both of you being filled with immediate pleasure and relief. It takes a moment to get used to his size, but once you are and you’ve properly bottom out, you begin to move immediately.

Grinding into him quickly turns into bouncing, causing Geralts hands to fly to your breasts. He groans as he takes one in his mouth and his other grabs at your ass.

You continue to bounce and use his cock for your own pleasure, drawing moans from both of you. Geralt feels blessed to be used in such a way by such a beautiful woman. His mind filled with nothing but how tight your pussy feels and how good your tits feel in his hand and mouth.

The cave is filled with both of your mixed moans and grunts. The sound of skin slapping onto skin getting louder and louder and you bounce faster and faster.

Pulling Geralt away from your breasts by his hair, you place his hands on your hips. His strong fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as your breasts bounce deliciously in his face, leaving him staring at your form, hypnotised by your beauty and power.

“Fuck! Geralt! You feel so good! Such a good fucking boy.” You praise as your fingers come down to play with your clit.

Geralt can’t help the way his moans become almost animalistic, as your pussy clenches around his cock. Grunts and groans leave his beautiful parted lips and echo around the cave as you both reach your end.

“Fuck, Geralt, I’m so close!”

“Me too. Fuck! Cum with me, sweetheart.” He grunts out in response.

You were wound so tight and from just those words alone, you couldn’t hold on much longer. The tension in you snapped as you came with a loud roaring moan, your head flying back.

Geralt took a tighter hold of your hips as he thrust into you powerfully, finishing only seconds after you.

Panting deeply with sweat covering both of you, you push your forehead against his as you both catch your breath.

“Maybe I should come to you when I’m thirsty more often.”

[dotster001]

I'm not sure if requests are open, but if they are, could I request Leona, Vil, and Jamil with a fem s/o who's very sweet and gentle in nature but is actually the daughter of a Mafia boss?

(Thank you for your patience my beloved Anon 🥺 I know this has been sitting in my inbox for a while and I adore you for not yelling at me. A million kissies for you!)

Summary:Fem!reader x Leona/Vil/Jamil

CW: Mafia stuff (poison, hitmen, etc), fem reader

He starts out thinking that the only reason you're still alive is because of him, especially after his overblot, where you didn't flee the danger. You're just so sweet and naive, you're begging for someone to take advantage of you. That's why when he starts dating you he's a little overprotective. He'll pass it off as "defending what's his", but really he's just worried about you. (Mans respects women too much to really think like that. He's not fooling anyone)

Then one day, you're missing home, and telling him about your family. And….you start just saying the most concerning things, not even thinking about it. He's given up napping a long time ago when you start talking about the time your driver rear ended someone, changed your license plate quickly, and threw a wad of cash at the person he hit before driving away. 

He just outright asks you, "Is your dad a Mafia boss?" 

And you answer, "yeah" with that bright smile he adores on your face. He starts asking more questions, to figure things out…and you don't seem to understand the implications of it. You've always just been daddy's little princess, no questions asked.

He doesn't actually mind, especially once he finds out that you yourself have never been hurt or in danger (though he takes that with a grain of salt, considering you don't seem to have noticed). He's a member of a monarchy that is who knows how old. He one hundred percent has relatives who have done worse. But if you ever find a way to go back and forth between worlds, he will be extra vigilant to make sure nothing happens to you.

Vil has never once questioned why you were so quick to adapt to his celebrity lifestyle. You don't question the body guards, you're okay wearing disguises, you're not uncomfortable with his expensive gifts/skincare/restaurant visits. In a word, you're perfect, and need little help adapting. And his fans adore you. They love how sweet you are and adore how you take care of Vil for them.

However, when you spot that jealous fan before his bodyguards do, and subtly move Vil to safety, he decides to question things.

And quickly finds out your dad was a Mafia boss, and a rival boss had put a hit on you once.

While you are sweet and naive, and don't quite seem to understand why it happened in the first place, a part of you is constantly on alert, and checking people's body language to protect yourself and your loved ones. 

For a while after that, Vil beefs up his security. He doesn't want you to even have to think like that. You should be able to believe that both him and you are safe! He will not have his precious apple blossom going prematurely gray over this!

As always, you are able to soothe the constant simmering rage he has inside him, and reassure him that you do feel safe, you just happened to notice the fan that one time. You knew the body guards could handle it, you just wanted to help.

Soothe him with soft cheek kisses. He needs to relax, and that'll help.

So you've managed to lull the ever on guard Jamil Viper into a place of happy complacency. Congratulations!

He worries sometimes you are too much like Kalim. But at least you help him with his chores, and work very hard not to make more work for him. So he can handle the naivete. (Also, unlike Kalim, you're his girlfriend, so he can get cuddles and kisses from you. It's a major improvement in his book, but he'll never admit it)

When you spend summer break in the Scalding Sands with him, he becomes surprised when you flip a man who was about to poison the food Jamil was about to taste test for Kalim.

After that's dealt with, he sits you down and asks where the fuck you learned that.

You tell him about the self defense classes you got from your bodyguard.

Which leads to more questions.

He knows that you aren't the member of the Mafia. He of all people understands how you can't choose what family you are born into. But he is conflicted. The Mafia equivalent in the Scalding Sands wants Kalim dead…and as Kalim's protector, if they succeed it means he is dead as well.

Honestly, he's trying not to think about it. It doesn't affect your relationship, but if he ever does meet your family, he is going to have to work hard to get past those thoughts in his head about your dad wanting him dead. It's become a mantra, They aren't the same mafia, They aren't the same mafia, They aren't the same mafia

....

Tag list-@stygianoir @shytastemakerthing @lleoll

[talkfastromance4]

we might just get away with it–Bradley Bradshaw (Electric Touch oneshot)

Just One Time Masterlist

Warnings: smut, protected sex, slight dirty talk

Word count: 2.7k

Authors note: this won’t make a ton of sense right now but this is based off real events in my life and writing them down helps me. I wanted this little teaser to come out though so you can get a sense of the story.

Reblogs mean the world and I’d love to know what you think!

She adjusted her outfit for the twelfth time and checked her hair in her long floor mirror. Her make-up was as perfect as she could get it, she was lotioned up in her favorite scent and spritzed her most expensive perfume on. Now it was waiting time.

Her phone buzzed in her hand several minutes later, his name lighting up and electrifying her heart. Just like a dozen and more times before. She opened the notification.

“Here.”

She gathered the blankets she promised to bring. Her fingers smacked the light switch and she moved quietly through the townhouse so as to not wake her roommate, snatched her keys, and ran out the front door. She’s met with the muggy summer night air and a few cold raindrops splattering on her cheeks as she runs towards the bright headlights.

When she pulled open the door, his cologne swept over her and it transported her to when she was nineteen. One look at him also took her back in time, he had the same boyish grin and warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen when he’d pick her up for a date all those times before.

“Hey,” Bradley greets. His voice still had that same deep gravel to it and it brought her back to the present.

“Hi,” she smiles and climbs into the seat of the Bronco.

Cool air from the vents blew her hair and she settled the blankets at her feet. Her body was electric as she buckled up and when she turned to look at him, he was already looking at her.

“How’s it goin’?” he asks and pulls out of the driveway.

“Oh, ya know,” she shrugs, tossing her hands in the air.

“Yeah, I get it,” he chuckles and settles into his seat. “So, where should we go?”

“You’re sure your place is off the table?”

“Yeah, Penny would kill me.” He licks his lip, eyes glancing at her and the way she’s leaning toward him. He rests his elbow on the console so their arms brush.

That same electricity they shared years ago was still there, it was inevitable.

“Right…um…”

“I do have to get gas first, otherwise I’ll have to make a very awkward phone call for back-up,” he teases. “Don’t want anyone else to see you naked in the back when they pull up.”

“I think we’d have enough time to change,” she laughs.

“Been too long, sweetheart,” he shakes his head letting his fingers stroke over the wheel as he takes a turn. “I don’t want to pause for anything.”

Heat rushes to her cheeks. He’s always had a way of undoing her and her stomach tightens at the anticipation of him doing it again. Even after all these years, she’s still dazzled by his charms.

They drive around catching up about jobs and life and old memories they’ve shared. How he tells the story about taking her to the hospital, how his mom spotted them at the end of their driveway that one night.

Bradley vents a little about his ex as well. She listens intently, a frown forming as he explains what he endured for the last several years. She always thought he was happy when she’d check his social media posts; he had a family of his own, two little girls and living his dream of flying just like his dad. He seemed happy.

But his recollections tell otherwise as he explains they always, always fought.

To hear he was miserable in the relationship made her heart ache because she’s thought about him everyday for the last seven years. If she wasn’t the one to make him happy then she wanted him to be happy with someone else and now that wasn’t the case.

Could she have made him happier?

“Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about my ex,” he shakes his head after pulling up to the gas pump.

“No, it’s okay,” she shakes her head, “you have to let it out. I don’t mind.”

When he got out to fill up, he kept the door open and leaned against it to stare at her. She stares back, cheek in her hand and a demure smile on her lips. The pump guzzles to a stop and he removes it and hops back in. As he pulls out, she asks about his girls and loves the way he talks about them. He really loves his daughters.

They’ve been driving around for another ten minutes.

“At this point I’m tempted to get a hotel room,” he snickers then takes a left.

“Me too, honestly,” she sighs.

They share a smile but then he pulls out his phone.

“Hang on…I know a place.”

As he’s looking down, the car veers to the left side of the road.

“Woah, hey!” she places her hand over his on the steering wheel moving them back in the correct lane.

“We’re fine, no one else is on the road,” he grins.

“We’re trying to avoid that and the cops could be out, you don’t know!” she says and he just laughs. She rolls her eyes. “Still the same Bradley.”

He pulls into a wooded area off a backroad that is covered in darkness. His lights shine on a small trail and a large wooden board full of park notices. He cuts the engine then looks at her and the backseat that is completely spacious, he shoved the seats back. He reaches for the blankets by her feet and crawls in the back.

“I feel like a teenager again,” he says and spreads the blankets down on the floor.

“Same,” she giggles watching him. “We keep each other young. Wow, there is a lot of space back here.”

“I know, you coming?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

She kicks off her flip-flops and climbs over the seats to join him. He removes his shirt quickly and she marvels at the sun-kissed tone of his skin and muscles that cover his whole torso. Another smile is exchanged and then it’s lips on lips, fingers tangling in hair.

He lays her down on the floor, his body heavy as he covers her, her legs opening at the precise time so he can slot in between her thighs. It’s a practiced dance they’ve danced so many times and have perfected. His kiss transports her back in time because he kisses her the way she remembers.

Bradley’s hand moves down her hip just as her nails scratch at his shoulder.

“Don’t mark me up,” he mumbles and pulls back. “I have the girls tomorrow and they’ll ask why Daddy is scratched like a cat.”

“I’ll try not to,” she pouts, “but you know me, I can’t really control myself. Can I bite?”

“Little nibbles,” he allows with a nod. He kisses her, tongue sweeping into her mouth. “I mean it, no scratching.”

She growls a little and he laughs then pulls back even further, his fingers tucking into her shorts. She lifts her hips in a wordless answer to his unvoiced question and he pulls her shorts and panties off together. They’re tossed carelessly behind him.

“Remember, go slow, it’s been a long time,” she reminds him as he yanks off his own shorts.

“How long?” he asks reaching for a condom from his pocket.

“Too fucking long,” she shakes her head.

“C’mere,” he sighs and kisses her again. He keeps himself braced with one hand on the back of her seat as the other slips between her legs.

His middle finger teases her slit, the pad goading inside her with each stroke. Her hips lifted each time his finger went in a little further, and he smiles against her mouth. He removes his hand and then it’s near the corner of her mouth. She turns her head to suck on his finger, salivating on it so it’s nice and slick.

When he’s satisfied he dips it inside her effortlessly but she still arches slightly at the feel of his finger. A quieted gasp escapes her and Bradley pumps his finger in and out languidly. Each insertion has her getting wetter and more turned on.

“So warm and wet for me,” he coaxes softly.

“Mhm,” she agrees absently. She focuses on his finger hitting that perfect spot, a spot that has been neglected for so long.

“Can’t wait to sink my cock into you,” he continues with a routine curl of his finger inside her.

“Please,” she whispers.

He pumps his finger a few more times before he tears the condom open and rolls it on. He spits into his palm, strokes himself twice and bends over. She opens her legs again and he nudges the tip against her folds.

“Slow,” she gasps, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. Bradley nods and he concentrates as he takes his time.

It’s a new but all too familiar stretch as he enters her, the further he pushes the better it feels and when Bradley’s fully sheathed, she lets out a loud gasp. Her head is tossed back at being filled with him again.

“God, you feel the same.”

Bradley smiles and slowly pulls out before plunging back in, she moans at the contact. He does that technique a few times as she continues to adjust, noting how she feels the same as well. A dozen memories float to the forefront of his mind from other endeavors they’ve shared together. In his old truck, at his mom’s house, at Mav’s house, the shower.

He’s hypnotized by her moans, adores the way she bites her lips to try to keep quiet but it does nothing. He’s always loved how vocal she is, it spurs him on to keep her making those noises.

“Right there, right there,” she mewls. One leg rests along his seat so he plunges in deeper and her hands fit perfectly on his waist to guide him where she needs him. “Faster.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grunts and fucks her at a quicker pace.

Her hands are all over him, another thing he’s loved and missed. She moves with him easily, nails scraping lightly over his skin until they’re back in his hair pulling him down on top of her. She gives him a sloppy kiss that turns into her biting on his lower lip from pleasure.

“Talk to me,” she pants.

“You take me so well, baby,” he grunts. “So tight and warm for me. Take this cock so good.”

She mewls again and Bradley’s body ripples at the sound, he closes his eyes to concentrate. He lifts up her shirt, tweaking at one of her nipples before watching them rock and bounce with his motions.

“There, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she gasps and tilts her body back.

Bradley moves faster and deeper, her wetness leaking out of her, a telltale sign that her orgasm is nearing and he’s thankful because he’s not sure how much longer he could last. It’s been a long time since he’s had sex as well. He tucks his face in her neck, grunting with each frenzied thrust.

“‘M gonna cum,” he mouths in her ear and she shivers.

“Cum for me,” she whispers. Her lips graze his neck, nails pressing into his skin as she rocks her body up into his. When she moans loudly that’s when he loses it and spills into the condom.

His breathing is ragged, spots form in his eyes as he releases his orgasm and then he pulls out, pulsating on top of her. Her breath is hot, their skin is hot and a little sweaty. As they come down and their hearts settle, he hears a heavy rain on the windows.

When he’s caught his breath, he lifts his forehead from her chest to see her lick her lips. Her eyes are still closed.

“Wow that felt good,” she sighs, head rolling to the side. Her eyes open slowly, glossy and blissed out post orgasm.

“Yeah, it did,” he agrees and pushes himself off her. It took more control than he thought to pull away. But this is part of their routine.

He stares at her laid before him, half naked and glorious just like so many times before. It always was so easy with them, their bodies fit well together and knowing what the other liked/wanted was innate.

“You okay?” He huffs watching her as she breathes deeply to gather herself. “Are your legs shaking?”

“No,” she smiles lightly then opens her eyes. “No offense, it wasn’t that long to do that.”

He snorts. She’s always felt comfortable telling him how it is straight to his face.

“Next time we’ll have a bed and we can switch it up,” he suggests.

“That sounds nice. My head kept hitting the door.” She sits up then exhales, fixes her hair.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve brought a pillow for you.”

“It’s fine. I’ve been sore before,” she shrugs then sighs.

“These are yours,” he hands her shorts and panties to her.

They dress quickly and silently, the rain pelts on the truck and then Bradley moves to the front seat again and she’s still slipping her bottoms on.

“Damn, it got hot in here fast,” he sighs. The truck turns on and the air conditioning fans over him.

“We should’ve kept the car on,” she climbs into her seat.

“We definitely would have attracted attention then. All set?” he asks when she buckles up.

The talking continues as he drives back to her home, another thing that’s always been easy with them. They can talk about anything. He vents about his ex again, how she relies heavily on Bradley’s income but doesn’t trust him entirely with the girls.

“You know the sailboat Penny has?” he asks stopping at a red light.

“Yeah, we snuck on there one night,” she grins.

“Well, earlier this week was the first time I’ve had the girls on there with me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and they loved it. My youngest has no fear, she loved it. And the oldest stayed by me the whole time but she’s a Daddy’s girl,” he smiles.

“I’m sorry, you grew up on that boat and know how it works.”

“Yeah, we fought for quite some time before she finally agreed I could take the girls on it,” he sighs.

“Can I ask what you fought about so much in your relationship?”

“Anything really. We fought so much it started to affect the girls and that’s when I realized it wasn’t worth it to stay with each other if it was affecting them, too.”

“Yeah, that’s not good.”

The light turns green and he drives again, a comfortable silence settles between them. Until…

“It would have been easy if we raised kids together,” he says.

She looks at him. He’s looking at her and they share a moment. A moment of what could have been, maybe even what should have been.

“Honestly,” she breaks the silence, “I always thought if I were to get pregnant with anyone, it would have been with you.”

When he pulls into her driveway, he parks and they remain talking. Conversation flows easily, both of them making each other laugh. More memories are exchanged until he lets out a big yawn.

“I’m sorry for keeping you up so late,” he says.

“It’s fine. I miss talking to someone.”

“I do, too. It’s been a while since I had a decent conversation like this.”

She stares at him, his brown eyes lit up violet from the light of his radio screen. There’s a hole in her chest that’s been vacant and being with him, even for a short while, has filled that spot.

“I should get going, you probably have an early day tomorrow,” she says then grabs the blankets.

Bradley watches her fold the blankets together. They talked about things he’s always wondered about but there’s still a million more left unsaid. She gathers them in her arms and pockets her phone in her shorts, sighing as she stares at him.

“I’ll make sure you’re inside before I drive off,” he says softly.

“Okay.” She opens the door.

“y/n.”

She turns.

He blinks. She blinks. Then he stretches over the console to slot his lips against hers. Some of the things left unsaid transferred in that kiss, and they both understood it.

“Thank you,” he says when the kiss ended.

“Thank you,” she whispers and slips out of her seat and into the night.

They give each other one last look before the door closes and she runs inside. Both of them are left wondering if rekindling this old flame will break their hearts or bring them back to life.

[racinggirl]

illegally good || Charles Leclerc 16

part of the 700 celebration drabbles!

words: 3k Oh my god, I know I said drabbles, but I promise it's good! I had such a blast writing this, I am in love. Mafia / confident / boss Charles is absolutely my favorite! also, excuse my French, this GIF? URGH. Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy reading! Please let me know your thoughts about this fic below! I'd love to hear your perspective on it :) warnings: mafia, swearing, mentions of murder, kidnapping, abuse (nothing major), all with a fluff ending because you know me

(as a part of my 700 followers celebration, I'm taking requests for drabbles, check this post for more information)

One thing you absolutely hated? Taking care of other people’s dirty jobs, especially when those people were getting the credits for it. Credit you should get, because those people did not deserve a single compliment about their efforts. 

It happened to you, and you were tired of it, tired of the fact you were not getting any promotions – if you could even call it promotions in the business you worked at – or credits for the things you did. So, you quit. You said goodbye to your old life, after months of trying to sneak away, to disappear from the radar entirely, before coming back as a new you.

New name, check. New hair, check. New house, new identity, check. 

All those things happened when you were just 12, growing up in the business your father, who was a leader of the mafia, built, hoping you’d take over that same business one day. But things changed, and especially for being a woman, you knew people wouldn’t listen. They weren’t moving with the years, they weren’t modernizing. No. They were old school, old fashioned and would think of a woman as a side job, someone who’d do all the dirty work, take care of the kids, be safe at home while the men would do the real deal. 

Your father wasn’t happy, at all, when you ran away at the age of 19. You moved countries, all on your own. Away from everything. You had promised your father you wouldn’t tell anyone about his business, about his secret life, if he’d leave you alone. You were the daughter of a mafia boss, after all. You knew how to get the things you wanted. 

Fast forward 3 years, in which you were a ‘normal’ university student. ‘Normal’ because, even though you were just 22 years old, you were rich. You were able to rent an apartment in the highest possible level, in the fanciest country of Europe. Monaco.

That’s why, you and your friends, who were studying fashion in Italy, were now wandering the crowded streets of your country. The Formula One weekend was here, which created thousands of people exploring the streets you called home. 

Loads of celebrity’s called Monaco their home as well, why? Taxes. Money. Living in Monaco meant life was expensive, but it also meant you could afford the expensive lifestyle due to the low taxes. Something that made the decision to moving to Monaco even easier. 

‘’This is amazing.’’ One of your friends exclaimed when you were walking through the paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix, of course you had tickets, you wanted them, so you’d get them. 

‘’It’s quite impressive, indeed.’’ You replied, your hands in the pockets of your jeans as you looked around, the colorful motorhomes of each team slowly appearing in front of you. However, one motorhome stood out, and not because of the color, but because of the person in front of it. 

Charles Leclerc, 25 years old, born and raised in Monte Carlo, Monaco. Formula One driver and loved amongst many. However, that’s not how you knew him. Aside from his job in the motorsports industry, he also was part of a group, and not just a normal group. 

Your father had warned you about them, but you knew it was just so you wouldn’t be sloppy with your work and to make sure you’d deliver the best possible outcomes. You had never met them, the Italian mafia, but you had heard stories. Rumors, about this man in front of you in particular. 

The Formula One career was a perfect cover up for the things he did, since nobody knew about it, and nobody would even believe the stories about Charles Leclerc being a member of the mafia. How could he, he was so innocent, so sweet and gentle. 

‘’Oh, my goodness that’s Charles Leclerc, come on, we should say hi!’’ You mentally strangled your friend the moment she started walking to the Ferrari driver, dragging the rest of your friends along with her. Just perfect. 

‘’Hi, Charles! It’s so nice to meet you, could we get a picture?’’ Charles listened to the ladies, as the gentleman he is, and took the pictures. However, you weren’t going to take one step closer to your enemy. Okay, he wasn’t technically your enemy anymore since you left your fathers business, but you couldn’t betray your family like that. 

‘’Come on y/n, join us for the pictures!’’ Your friends were standing next to Charles, as his racing suit was lowered to his hips, revealing the red fireproof top that fitted him like a glove. 

‘’I’m fine, thanks.’’ You weren’t taking your eyes off the Monegasque, feeling the need to keep an eye on whatever he did, every sneaky movement he’d make would be something you’d see. And he knew, he knew who you were, he knew what you were doing as well. 

However, he didn’t mention it, he didn’t put his active attention on you, knowing it would cause people to become suspicious. However, you weren’t stupid. You knew he knew, and that made you even more careful about your actions. 

‘’Goodluck on the race.’’ Your friends cheered on the driver, who returned a smile. ‘’Thank you, ladies, have fun watching the race. I’m sure you love some action.’’ And you knew those last words were directed towards you, that it was just a sneaky way of letting you know he knew who you were. 

Two months forward, and it was summer in Monaco. The sun was shining, people were swimming in the ocean, tanning on the beach, and you were one of them. As much as you told yourself the things from your past would stay in the past, you couldn’t help but keep thinking about him. Trying to track everything he did whenever you saw him walking through the streets of Monaco, driving his Ferrari, greeting fans. He almost looked innocent. Almost. 

It was late, almost 3 am, when you were walking through the dark streets of Monaco. Maybe you had a little too much to drink, but you for sure weren’t going to stay the night at the club. You were tired and wanted to go home. Your friends, however, were still having the best time of their lives, so you gave them the spare key to your house, not feeling the need to spend 3 more hours in that club. 

You were making your way home, humming slightly to yourself as you suddenly felt two hands gripping your waist, a little tighter than a friendly person would do. The action made you scream, but it was quickly muffled by another pair of hands on your mouth, preventing you from screaming even more. 

Your eyes were wide open, as you tried to identify the two men that were holding you. But it was dark, making it almost impossible for you to see who were hiding under the black beanies and mouth masks. 

‘’Silent, pretty, you’re coming with us.’’ And that’s when you knew. You recognized that voice, not because you’ve heard it live before, but because you heard it over the phone multiple times whenever your father had another heated discussion over the phone. 

‘’And what if I don’t want to, Niccolo.’’ You groaned, but the sharp metal leaning against your side made you clench your jaw, a sigh escaping your lips as your eyes closed to think. 

‘’I don’t think you have a choice, bambina.’’

-

‘’You know I quit 3 years ago, I have nothing, I know nothing.’’ You said as you felt the rope against your wrists, looking up at the right hand of Vincenzo, Niccolo. Before you could speak even more, the big metal door on the left opened, a big man, typical Italian, typical mafia boss, came walking through the doors. 

‘’Vincenzo, we found her, capo.’’ Niccolo spoke up, stepping aside to give the man full access to you. 

He grabbed your jaw, tightly, as he moved your face left to right, checking out your delicate features. ‘’No microphones, no cameras?’’ He grunted, harshly releasing his grip on your face the moment his workers told him you had nothing on you. 

‘’I fucking told you. I quit. I have nothing to do with my father anymore. I guess your minions aren’t the best at keeping an eye out for the competi-‘’ A harsh slap across your face made you shut your mouth, a burning sensation running through your cheek. 

‘’Shut up.’’ Vincenzo glared at you, pacing back and forth as he thought, about you, about your father, about the entire situation in front of him. 

You slowly turned your gaze forward again, moving your jaw left to right to try and get rid of the painful sensation. You stayed silent for a few more seconds, but again, you were the daughter of a mafia boss, this wasn’t the first time you got slapped in the face. 

‘’ You won’t get anything out of me, you know that.’’ You muttered, narrowing your eyes as Vincenzo appeared in front of you, the biggest smirk on his face as he rubbed your still burning cheek. 

‘’I know, bambina, I know, but I’m sure your father would hate to see his precious little daughter on the edge of death.’’ He whispered; the smirk still apparent on his face. You couldn’t help but feel shivers over your entire body. Maybe it was the fact the alcohol was getting out of your system, or maybe it was the intimidation you felt from the man in front of you, but you weren’t going to let them win. 

‘’You should brush your teeth, asshole.’’ You replied, watching the smirk disappear from Vincenzo’s face, followed by a black screen in front of you, the consequence of a harsh smack across the back of your head, causing you to pass out in the uncomfortable wooden chair. 

-

‘’She’s with me, yes.’’ You heard a faint voice on the other side of the room, the bright light from the sun outside being too much for your eyes to bare now, so you closed your eyes again, slowly. 

‘’No, she’s no longer part of the group. Listen to me, Vincenzo. You stay away from her, understood? If I ever see you near her again, I’ll make sure you won’t…’’ That’s all you could hear, the faint voice kept speaking, but you weren’t listening since you passed out again, but this time in a comfortable soft bed. 

You woke up hours later, it was dark outside, and there was a soft music playing in the background, piano music, to be precise. You tried to adjust to the environment for a few seconds before slipping your feet out of the bed, your toes running through the soft carpet at the sides of it. 

You weren’t wearing your party dress anymore, but instead, you were dressed in an oversized shirt, which for sure wasn’t yours. 

The headache at the back of your head was making it hard for you to focus, but you could swear the piano music was live, and not from a random radio station. The flawless melody paired with the fine tunes sounded like magic to your ears, and you followed the sound of the music till you found yourself in a room with the one man you for sure weren’t expecting. 

The music faded, until it completely stopped, but you didn’t move. You watched the back of the man as you leaned against the doorframe, your arms crossed in front of your chest. 

‘’Did you take the painkillers?’’ Was the first thing he said, without even turning around to face you. 

‘’No.’’ You saw them, but you weren’t going to take random pills on the nightstand in a room you didn’t know. 

‘’Are you feeling better?’’ The man asked again, this time slowly turning around to take a decent look at you. 

‘’Why am I here?’’ You asked. ‘’I already told Vincenzo I know nothing about the business my father has right now. So, what the fuck do you want?’’ You were annoyed, mostly by the fact you got kidnapped in the middle of the night, twice. You had lost track of time, not even knowing what day it was right now. 

‘’I’ll take that as a yes.’’ The man said, reaching for the cup of water which was standing on top of the piano. He handed it to you, to which you rolled your eyes. He then took a sip himself, and handed that same cup to you again, which, this time, you accepted. 

‘’Sit down.’’ He said, looking over to the couch after watching you take a sip of the water. 

‘’I’m perfectly fine standing where I am.’’ You replied, playing with the cup of water in your hands. 

‘’Whatever you’d like.’’ The man responded, taking a seat on the couch as he looked at the table in front of him. 

‘’I’d like an explanation, Charles.’’ You spoke. ‘’First, I’m being kidnapped by Niccolo at fucking 3 am after a party with my friends, only to be brought to Vincenzo, who’s not even hesitating a second to murder me. Then he beats me till I pass out, and I wake up in I assume your apartment, after I heard you talk to Vincenzo. What are you going to do to me, Charles, kill me? Hold me hostage? Torture me? I wish you luck, because I’m not giving you a single piece of information.’’ 

Charles sighed, heavily, his gaze moving from the table to you, before getting up from the couch. He walked closer towards you, lifting your chin up carefully to watch the bruises across your face. 

‘’I’m not like that anymore, y/n.’’ He started. ‘’I left the group once my career became serious when I got to Formula One. I’m not your enemy anymore.’’ He mentioned, and at first you didn’t believe him. But once he started to explain everything, from the way he had more power than Vincenzo, how his career in Formula One had become one of the most important things in life, and mainly how he followed you those last couple of months. He knew you were in Monaco, and he quickly found out you were no longer part of your fathers’ group. He almost felt obligated to keep an eye on you, to keep you safe from any of the things he knew Vincenzo would do, but he knew that if he told Vincenzo to stay away from you, he’d only give insight in the fact you were in Monaco, and Charles preferred to keep that a secret. 

However, when they found out you were currently staying in the country, they stroked, and before Charles could even do anything, they had captured you. The only thing Charles could do was demand Vincenzo and his group to bring you to his place, which he immediately did. He saved your life, and why? Because he knew you were innocent, you were just like him, someone that had been thrown at this life, but chose the right path instead of the wrong one. 

Now, years later, and you were walking through that same paddock where you saw him for the very first time. Only this time you weren’t just a stranger anymore. 

‘’y/n! y/n! Over here! This camera!’’ You smiled sweetly at the cameras, flashes lightening the way in front of you as you saw the man standing at the exact same place he was 4 years ago, only this time, he was your man. 

‘’Ciao bella.’’ Charles wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his lips pressing a delicate kiss against your temple as you closed your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’Hey handsome.’’ You responded; a smile painted on your lips as you looked up at your boyfriend. 

‘’Charles! Y/n! such a lovely couple, can you look at this camera for a second?’’ Photographers were slowly gathering around you, at which Charles’ arm wrapped around your shoulder even tighter, in order to keep you safe, to protect you from anything out there. Not that it was needed anymore, because Vincenzo had been arrested, along with the rest of his group. 

‘’Let’s go inside, hmm. I heard we have pizza inside.’’ Charles whispered in your ear, at which your smile grew even wider. ‘’Well then, come on, what are we waiting for?’’ You exclaimed happily, your hand intertwining with his as you walked inside the hospitality. 

But once you walked inside, you were disappointed with the fact there wasn’t a single slice of pizza to be seen. ‘’Charles!’’ You exclaimed, turning around to watch your boyfriend step closer to you. ‘’There’s no pizza…’’ You whispered as his arms wrapped around your waist, your arms resting on his shoulders as you played with the hair at the back of his neck. 

‘’I know, love, I just wanted you to myself.’’ He whispered, placing a few kisses at the corners of your mouth. ‘’And I’ll get you as much pizza as you want tonight.’’ He added, at which the corners of your mouth turned upward almost instantly. 

‘’I love you, Charles.’’ You whispered, closing your eyes as you felt his fingers tucking a single strand of hair behind your ear. 

‘’I love you too, my love, more than you can ever imagine.’’ And with that, he pressed his lips on yours, slowly, softly, but oh so illegally good…