#Always Something Underneath Chapter 2

[1-helluva-hazbin]

Always Something Underneath

Chapter 2 - A Taste of Peppermint

Lucifer x Fem!reader (prostitute character w/ accent)

Content warning: slow burn, talk of smoking, writing an accent, no proofread

Chapter Summary: You and Lucifer end up having a drink together when he shows up to the hotel and Charlie is out.

Word Count: 2748

Chapter 1 𖤐 Chapter 2 (You are Here) 𖤐 Chapter 3 𖤐 Chapter 4 𖤐 Chapter 5 (WIP)

The hotel bar was quiet tonight. As you entered the usually bustling hotel after having finished the couple of scheduled clients at the brothel, only to be met with a calm serenity, it was unsettling. It made you question if you were in the wrong place. You made your way over to the bar taking a seat. It was just you perched on a barstool at one end of the bar, Husk behind it closer to you, and another already severely intoxicated resident, who had their head down on the bar, at the other end.

“Hey Husk, where the heck is everybawdy ta’night?” you ask motioning with a sweep of an arm towards the empty expanse of the lobby. “It’s kinda weird.”

Husk looked towards you, from what appeared to be him taking inventory behind the bar, and shrugged. “Don’t know. I heard Charlie say something about bonding. Everyone needs to stop asking me that fucking question though. I’m not here to monitor who comes and goes.”

You hum in response, amused at Husk’s dislike for being the one everyone goes too yet disappointed at hearing everyone was out. One of the downsides of working while residing here was that you did occasionally miss out on the evening activities that Charlie organized. Not that you were personally willing to quit to attend them. It still left you feeling a little dejected. A trade off to ensuring your own financial stability. “You want something to drink?” Husk asked, noting you hadn’t headed off.

“A dirty shirley would be swell. When ya gawtta second that is.” You hear him mumble something along the lines of ‘you got it’ though he said it so low you weren’t totally sure. You sigh, as you twist in your seat so you’re facing the lobby. The idleness inciting the itch of a nicotine craving. You were trying to cut back and you had one on the walk home. Plus you didn’t want to go outside. Charlie had made it clear there should be no smoking in the hotel after you had already pushed your luck in your room.

Your hands wrung the edge of your skirt for a moment, before you put one hand up on the bar with your fingers to immediately begging to drum. Husk’s ear twitched and he glanced over as he whipped up your drink. “Quit it with the fingers. That’s annoying as shit.” he growled out, “Why the fuck you doing that anyway? You’re not usually one of the annoying ones.”

You ‘tsked’ the reprimand, your hand retreating to your lap once more. “Sorry Husk. I’m tryin’ ta quit smokin’ an’ I’m feel’in kinda antsy.”

“No shit.” he drawled, eyes locked onto you. “You actually believe this whole redemption bullshit don’t you?”

You shrug and lean back against the bar. “Believe it? Naw. I dun think it can hurt to try though. Bein’ slightly less shitty ain’t the worst thing ta be down here an if it werks I’d get’ta golden ticket. Not’ta bad trade off if ya ask me. If it werks that is.”

He scoffed, shaking his head just audibly muttering, “Nothing worse than being gullible down here…” He walked over sliding the drink next to your elbow. “I’ve heard in passing that eating sunflower seeds or pumpkin seeds can help. Not the cravings but, it keeps your hands busy or something.”

“Oooh yeah that could werk. That’s a good idea!” you spun around in your seat, acquiescing to his comment about gullibility. You hadn’t ever considered yourself gullible for trying this redemption thing out but, you could admit some might see it that way.

He grinned and went to make a further comment before the front doors burst open. The both of you turned to see Lucifer sauntering in loudly humming to himself, radiating excitement. “Ah! Husk! Where is Charlie!” he immediately called out from across the room ambling towards the bar.

He sighed as you pursed your lips holding back a giggle. “Out.” he growled, ears flat.

“They had’a group thing planned ta’night.” you add, hoping to ease some of Husk’s irritation while satisfying Lucifer. You leaned over towards the seat next to you and patted the cushion. “Join me for’a drink Luci babe! I’m sure we gotta ‘nuff time for one!”

“Oh! How, thoughtful!” he said, the genuine happiness sliding into a facade to mask his nervousness.

“I got’ta question for ya I’ve been meanin’ ta ask!”

He gritted his teeth and closed the distance between himself in the bar. “Do you now?”

“What do you want?” Husk asked, diverting the topic away from your question.

Lucifer blinked and let out a breathy laugh, “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Here!” you push your drink towards Lucifer, “A dirty shirley don’t taste much like alcohol, especially the way Husk here makes ‘em but, just’ta be sure try mine. I haven’t drank out’ta it yet.”

“Oh well I wouldn’t want it going to waste if I don’t like it!” he exclaimed, pushing it back towards you.

“I’ll just drink it. No worries.” you shrug nonchalantly. His face twisted in disgust as you both stared at one another for a moment. “What?”

“You’d drink out of a glass someone else drank from?” he gasped out incredulously. 

You laugh out lightly, thinking him joking, his expression unwavering. “Oh, shit you’re serious. Lucifa, sweety, did you forget ‘bout my profession? The things I haf’ta do with this mouth?” Husk barked out a laugh, “You’d probably be one’a the cleanest beings I’ve ever swapped bloodily fluids with. Do I need ta paint a more vivid pic’ta for ya?”

Lucifer’s disgust settled deeper into his features as your spiel continued. By the end, he was beyond disturbed with any remanence of the arriving excitement vanquished. “No. Please don’t.”

“Perfect!” you push the drink towards him once more, “So you’ll try it an if ya don’ like it I’ll drink it. Husk can make ya somin’ else, like a mudslide.”

“I’m a bartender not a fucking mixologist. I’m not making a mudslide. We don’t have heavy cream anyways.” Husk huffed out.

You ‘tsk’ the cat again and counter, “A mudslide is hawdly a complex cawlktail, Husk.”

“I’m not fucking making it.” he bit back resolutely.

As the squabbling occurred, Lucifer tentatively took the dirty shirley, gingerly sipping it. He blinked at the flavors playing on his tongue, mostly sweet with only a slight hint of alcoholic bite. He took a slightly bigger sip and hummed an approval. “This isn’t half bad!”

You side eyed Husk, shelving the mudslide conversation momentarily, before turning back to Lucifer with a smile. “Well, I’m glad you like it. Drinkin’ can be enjoyable, ‘specially when it don’ tas’ like shit. Jus’ gotta find out what’cha like.”

“How does a mudslide compare to this?” Lucifer asked, his interest genuinely peaked.

“Don’t you fucking start.” Husk growled

Lucifer raised a brow at Husk as a shit eating grin spread across your face, “It depends on what’cha like or ya mood. A dirty shirley is more of a..light an bubbly refreshin’ drink. A mudslide tho’ is a heavia drink since it’s made with cream. Kinda like a thin’a chawcalate milk but with more of a cawffe flava. If ya get it made with a little chawcalate ‘round the rim or in tha cup tho,” you paused and let out a soft hum, “that’s the best.”

Husk was shooting daggers as you talked. Giving him your most saccharine smile you asked in cloying tone, “Can I get anotha shirley?” 

Husk rolled his eyes, grabbing another glass. “Stop. Bringing. Up. Mudslides.”

“I can’t promise that. I can promise I won’t bring it up or mention it ‘round Angel though. If I was a gambal’a I’d bet my next paycheck he’d lov’a good mudslide. ‘Specially, knowing how fawned of makin’ em you are.” Your eyebrows raised as you cocked your head, silently challenging him to strike up a better counteroffer; his continued bartending services in exchange for your silence.

Husk groaned, fatigued at the idea of Angel hounding him to make the drink if only to infuriate him. While they certainly were on good terms, Angel would never let a golden goose like this go; to torment someone in such a mundane yet grating way. Always the sort to love getting a reaction out of people. Husk relented, “You’re killing me.”

You let out a single victorious giggle glancing at Lucifer offhandedly, instantly shocked. He had nearly downed his first shirley as you two dickered. “You might nawt be the only one I kill. Holy hell Lucifa. Slow down. We gawt the whole damn night.”

Husk looked at the glass in the king’s hand and shook his head. He placed your replacement dirty shirley on the bar. Lucifer shrugged, nonchalantly dismissing your concern. “I can handle a single drink.”

The bartender and you glance at one another, both nodding in silent solidarity given Lucifer had admitted to not being a drinker. Husk returned to his inventory, not asking Lucifer if he wanted another, and you proceeded to distract the king from requesting a second. “How ‘bout my question now that I gotta drink?”

He nervously chuckled and placed his hand and cup down on the bar. “What’s the question?”

“I waz curious how your powas werked. Like, what all can ya do? You helped build the hotel obviously. You gawt that nifty portal trick. Somebawdy said somethin ‘bout you turnin’ inta animals?” you asked, scooting to the edge of your seat towards Lucifer.

“Oh!” he laughed out, most of the nerves dissipating. “That’s it? I was worried you were going to ask me something…more uh…” He saw you smirk, raising a brow before he quickly decided to omit the concerned topic continuing on, “...never mind. My powers! Curious about my powers. Well it is very mutli-facitied. Powers of creation and all. I can create just about anything I can imagine of course. I can turn into any animal ever created so that was true. Shape shifting in general is a cinch.”

Instantly, you were sitting next to an anteater, followed by a chameleon, a house cat, and lastly his signature animal a snake. The last shift was back into his normal self. “Then of course I have the ability of duplication. It’s sort of a branch of the creation.” he said suddenly in the seat behind you as well as in front. At that point, the two of them took turns naming off of the things they could do.

 “The portals like you said; to places real and imagined.”

“Hellfire, which isn’t something I use often.”

“Angelic blasts on the flip side of that.”

“There are also the powers of healing.” he said, the Lucifer behind you poofing out of existence. “I can’t revive those who are dead, though that doesn’t matter much down here since people just regenerate as part of the whole hell existence. If they’re still breathing though I could just patch ‘em right up!”

“Can you help an addict who’s trying to quit? Take their cravings away?” Husk piped up out of the blue, looking at Lucifer over his clipboard.

Lucifer blinked, pondering it but a moment. “If it’s a physical reaction I could help. It wouldn’t stop them from picking it back up out of habit though. Is Angel Dust trying to quit finally?”

“Fucking doubt it. Charlie and Vaggie have found basically all his spots but it only seems to slow him down. He still gets it at work. This one here though…” Husk said, motioning the clipboard towards you. 

Lucifer turned to look at you with a tilted head with a surprised look on his face. You laughed softly, the feeling of being caught in the limelight for something kinda good a little unsettling. “Aw shucks Husk, ya didn’t need ta bring it up. I just stawted so I’m only down a couple cigarellos. It’s nothin’ ta raise cain about.”

“Are you serious about it?” Lucifer asked. “Stopping?”

“Part of the program ain’t it?” you smile finally sipping from your drink. “Gotta find betta copin’ mechanisms an awll that when I’m stressed out. Plus it ain’t great for ya. Husk mentioned eatin’ pumpkin seeds or sunflower seeds to help which I’m gonna’ try.”

“Well that’s…commendable.” he said, nodding slowly, his eyes locked onto you. “I can do it but, only if you’re serious about it. I don’t want to do this and then turn around to find out you’ve picked up the habit again. It’d be…”

“Disappointing?” you asked before he had the chance. His brows knitted, his expression suddenly saturnine as he gave a curt nod. Your smile shrinks and you sigh, “I gawt it. Not everybawdy can be Chawlie; willin’ ta help in every an’ any way with unlimited hope for awll these hell bound souls.”

He didn’t want to verbally agree but the silence was more than enough to confirm it. “If ya want ta and are willin’, I’d owe ya one. I am serious though, ‘bout quittin’. I wouldn’t be mad if ya don’t of course. I wasn’ tryin’ to fanangle when I asked ‘bout ya powas. You’re just fascinatin’ and I’ma neb.” The typical smile you adorned grew back as you continued speaking.

Lucifer watched you for a moment before he sighed and held out his hands to you, palms up. “Charlie wouldn want to try anything we can…put your hands on mine.”

You released your drink and wiped the condensation from the cup on your skirt. Gently you placed your palms against his. His hands were surprisingly about the same size as yours despite the hight difference and they were warmer than anyone else you had ever touched. Not to mention wonderfully soft. You suppressed a small hum and looked to him just as he closed his eyes. As the seconds passed, the nicotine craving started to subside. It was subtle at first but as it lessened into nothing it became very apparent. Almost alarmingly so.

“Better?” He asked, opening his eyes.

“It’s…” you hesitate, “kinda weird. I mean it’s gawn! Definitely betta in that sense. I don’t feel the cravin’ no more but… I guess… I gawt so use ta it bein’ there it’s weird nawt feelin’ it. ‘Specially awll of a sudden.”

“You’ll get used to it hopefully.” Lucifer said, not understanding the feeling but, trying to at least respect it.

You wrapped your hands around his and lightly squeezed, “Thank you. I own ya one.” You released his hands, not wanting to hold on too long despite the urge to.

“Don’t pick up the habit again and we’re even.” he replied, picking up what remained of his watered down drink to hold out the cup to you. You barked out a laugh and picked up your own cup, clinking the two together.

“Still owe ya, but if that makes ya feel betta that’s fine.” you sip from your drink and Lucifer finished off his just as Charlie and everyone who had gone out burst through the doors. 

“CHARLIE!” Lucifer exclaimed, rocketing off the seat. You laughed out at his antics, shaking your head at the king of hell. You watched for a moment Lucifer greet his daughter and part of the following scene of Alastor manifesting to antagonize the king.

You had no intention of wavering on your decision to quit smoking before but, the idea of letting him down after him helping you gripped our heart with a tight squeeze; the look on his face as he had hesitated to help you initially in fear of being let down. You couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at you like that. Like there was genuinely some hope. It certainly had to have been before you died. Down here, people didn’t expect anything from you to get disappointed by. 

You turned in your seat to find, next to your drink, two bags; one of pumpkin seeds and one of sunflowers. “What the…?” you jerked your head up to look at Husk who immediately pointed over towards Lucifer and Charlie as they walked off to talk about whatever had brought Lucifer bounding into the hotel in the first place with Alastor lurking behind.

“Sneaky devil…” you muttered, turning back to the gift. You emitted a giggle, grabbing one of the bags to look it over. That was…thoughtful. It made your heart swell and where your hands had touched his tingle. “Well…I really can’t let him down now.”

[sugucidal]

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER ii. [9.1k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: the shopping trip you were forced to go on with Toji doesn't go exactly as planned.

୨୧‬┊warnings: taboo cw! + semi-smut + age difference (reader is in her 20's and toji is 34 ) + slow burn + one-sided pining + attempt at humor + slice of life + reader takes multiple L's + megumi is mentioned + reader gets objectified (not by toji) + toji is a serial hoe

୨୧‬┊a/n: make sure to check out my main post! ive included a pinterest board for everything described + a playlist ♡

MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part ii.

You didn't know if it was a blessing in disguise, or a curse. Perhaps a cruel joke the world was playing on you like it always did. Yet here you were again, your knee high fluffy socks skidding across the oakwood flooring of your room, scouring through your closet like a deranged cat looking for something to wear on today's decor run.

"Shoes, shoes…I'm missing shoes," digging through the furthest corner in the enclosed space of your closet, you spotted an unopened box on one of the shelves. It was a simple pair of heeled, white mary janes with a heart buckle. You got it 2 birthdays ago but never saw an opportunity to wear them, until now.

Your mother told you that Toji was picking you up at 10:30 am despite you telling her that you would go after lunch.

'He's a busy man. He said this is the only time he's free today.'

"Yeah, of course he is. Always busy doing God knows what." Sighing, you decided on your ensemble for this morning. It was rushed and unplanned, but it would have to do.

Looking at the time on your phone, you saw that it was 10:15. You've still got 15 more minutes left till Toji arrives to pick you up. Letting out a breath, you sat on your bed, shoe cladded toes tapping the floor as your knee bounced, restlessly waiting.

Going over to your floor length mirror, you checked over your choice of outfit once more. It wasn't too cold of a day, so you opted for a knitted long sleeved, off-the-shoulder, cream toned sweater dress that hugged your curves. With its hem stopping just right underneath your ass.

You were debating between thigh highs or leg warmers, but decided leg warmers looked better scrunched down on your ankles with the shoes you opted to wear. You didn’t do much with your hair last night since you were only at home, but since you were going out in public today, you felt like doing something with it. Something cute specifically, as you opened your vanity drawer deciding which accessory to wear today. Picking some silk ribbon you saw laying about, you braided it into your hair, sealing it with a rubber band and tying an extra ribbon into a bow to conceal it. And finally, you had your bag. Well, more like bear. The teddy bear backpack you had on matched well with the neutral color scheme. So, you went for it. Honestly, you reminded yourself of a doll. A doll with a pretty face, and a whole lot of problems.

Taking a deep breath, you puffed out your chest. Your confident expression stared back at you, but on the other side of that mirror you felt nothing but anxiety simmering the longer you stood there in silence.

"I might as well wait for Toji outside then." It was no use standing around in your room. The bed looked way too inviting as it only made you think of excuses not to go. You wouldn't let your bed get the best of you this time.

Walking down the stairs, you headed towards the entrance, petting your cat's furry head along the way. Upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of freshly layered snow. It was thin, barely half an inch thick, but it already had you feeling a little better with the anticipation of making a snowman with it once the days got colder. You remember there was a time when you used to do that with Toji.

God, you can't even reminisce about the past without Toji having some part in it.

You desperately needed to figure out how you were going to do this.

Last night was a bust. Not much progress was made besides the fact that Toji actually spoke to you for the first time in years. Not that he had much chance to do so sooner even if he wanted to, with you a couple hours away from home and all. But it was the bare minimum. Right now you needed a plan, and you needed to think of one fast.

Standing against the railing of your porch, you sorted through your thoughts. You're going to get picked up by Toji in less than 10 minutes. You'll ride in his car, pretend that everything's okay because it is, you'll buy whatever this party needs, and if it goes well you'll confront him on the ride back home. And that'll be the end of that.

Easy.

But when is anything ever easy when it comes to that man. Nothing. The answer has always been nothing.

This line of thought has you so deep into your own frustration that you don't even realize you've been ranting to your teddy bear backpack. Murmuring to it harshly, and rolling your eyes like you're gossiping with a friend about the latest dumb thing that happened on Twitter today.

And it's only when you see a black pickup truck from your peripheral vision pulling up, that you stare back at the bear in horror. Mind being snapped back to the present, and feeling embarrassed that you were seen like this. A man was causing you this much turmoil, that you've been complaining to a damn backpack about it.

Quickly putting your bag back on, you smoothed out your sweater dress. You really fucking hope he didn't see that.

Facing towards the driveway you paused. Your eyes widened, already in awe at the vehicle as you saw it more clearly up close.

The last car you saw Toji with was an old, red Toyota truck. It did it’s job, but definitely not without a couple repairs here and there every so often (that you may or may not have checked him out while he was doing so.) So seeing this new, shiny, black Chevy parked right outside the driveway was definitely an exciting upgrade. The wheels were lifted, making the body higher than its original design, and the windows were tinted midnight black, making it nearly impossible to see who was inside unless you stuck a cheek to the glass.

Overall it was big, and intimidating.

Just like him.

'Guess those freelancing jobs paid off then.’

*BEEP BEEP*

Jesus. You didn't even notice Toji had already parked. How long were you just staring at it for? If he started to honk at you, it must’ve been more than what society deemed normal.

Running up to the passenger side of the truck, albeit meekly, you stopped right in front of the door just as the tinted windows were being pulled down giving you a better view of the inside. There sat Toji on the other side, upper body turned and facing towards you with one hand still on the wheel.

Toji’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at your appearance but it was quickly masked by a look of amusement.

"You busy daydreaming or what?"

Ignoring his remark, you placed your hands on the edge of the cold glass, peering up at him and around the interior.

“So, new truck huh?”

"Oh this? Yeah, got it not too long ago after receiving my payment for….from work."

You squinted your eyes in suspicion, noticing that he caught his words, but you weren't going to question it. No, you were going to let it go. You knew he wouldn’t tell you anything anyway, most likely just brushing it off as suddenly being hit with a stutter. He never spoke about his “overseas” jobs that he apparently racked up stacks of cash from, and despite him saying it was only freelancing work, you had a hunch it was something a lot shadier than that. You weren’t that dumb. Which is exactly why you weren’t going to ask.

Choosing to stay oblivious, you gave a compliment instead. "It's nice, Toji. Really."

You were about to open the door to get in and cut the small talk short (and because you’d rather bask in the in-system heating than out in the cold) but it wouldn’t budge. It was still locked. Why isn’t he unlocking the door?

Instead of unlocking the door for you like normal people do when picking up a person with their car, Toji isn't exactly someone you'd consider normal. Instead, Toji looked you up and down slowly as an awkward silence took over. You stood there rigid, allowing him to unashamedly undress you with his eyes. At least you think that's what he was doing. He’s being really bold today…does he seriously not plan to open this door?!

Your mind was running a mile per minute. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you kind of liked the attention he was giving you right now. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to give you any last night. Not that you blame him. Looks like the effort you had put in, despite being rushed, was working, leaving him dumbstruck. You felt proud that you managed to have him speechless.

Unfortunately, your sudden boost in ego was quickly shut down.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Oh. Talk about anticlimactic.

"Huh? W-what do you mean?"

"I mean," He stood there, a single eyebrow raised, and vaguely gesturing to your form with his hand, "This."

Looking around to see if anyone else was witnessing this, you quirked your head in question. "What about it?"

"I know ya didn't just decide to go out looking like that when it's freezing out here. Go back upstairs and put some real clothes on." He looked at you sternly with a scowl etching onto the scarred side of his lip, arms crossing in front of his chest.

Was Toji actually scolding you right now? The nerve of this guy!

You hadn’t seen it right away, but after staring back at him in disbelief at what you were hearing, you noticed his own personal ensemble.

There’s no damn way…

Looking up and down at him as he had done to you just moments prior, you saw that he was wearing an unzipped puffer jacket with a hoodie underneath which was fine, you had no issues regarding that. The problem was what he was wearing below.

This man, who was condemning you on your sweater dress because it was apparently unfit for “freezing” temperatures, was wearing shorts and slides. At least he wore socks with it, if he hadn’t you think you may have actually gone back home and let him do the shopping himself.

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, but quickly shut up after seeing Toji wasn’t finding this as amusing as you were.

This was crazy.

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose in disbelief. “You’re telling me to put warmer clothes on, when you’ve got shorts and slides on?”

Toji was quick to counter. “It’s not the same, don’t compare it.”

“Yeah it is!”

“Look kid, I’m not gonna argue with ya. Either change your clothes, or stay home.”

That’s exactly what you want to do. But you know deep down you can’t, you already told yourself you had to sort things out with him. And the first step to that, is sorting this out.

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After a couple pleading looks and adamant convincing of, 'I'm not cold!' 'I swear I'm fine. It doesn't even feel like winter out here!'

Toji relented. Letting out a sigh, shaking his head as he told you, 'Fine, whatever. But don’t come cryin’ at my feet when your stubborn ass gets sick and your mom gets mad at you.'

Now here you were, seated on the heated, brand new black leather seats of his Chevy after he finally gave in and unlocked the door, letting you in. You spent the trip with your head resting against the palm of your hand somberly, as you watched the scenery of snowy trees and other cars pass by.

The awkwardness throughout the entire car ride was at an all-time high. Higher than what it'd started out with earlier. You were both quiet; your brain a little less. Toji's disappointment regarding your attire was a total blow to your ego. You were just trying to look cute.

Not like it was meant for him anyway.

Is what you wanted to try convincing yourself in order to feel better, but really, you knew it was a lie.

As for Toji, that thought you had earlier about him ogling you? It was right on the money.

But he had to quickly save face by instead acting like a concerned adult worrying about the wellbeing of his innocent, young neighbor. If he was being honest, he didn’t give two shits about what you chose to wear. As long as it was for his eyes only.

Yes, he knew he’d hurt your feelings for telling you to go change. He understood that he was being overbearing and unreasonable especially after you brought up his own attire, but you had to understand. He physically couldn’t accept seeing you wearing an outfit that barely covered your ass like that in public when he should be the only one to see you looking like that. Yes, he was sick for looking at you that way and he knew that which is exactly why he needed you to cover up. Both so that no other creepy assholes (except himself) could see you that way, and because he doesn’t think he could control his thoughts about you for the next couple hours you have alone together. It’s why he had to shift in his seat a couple times. Though, you didn’t notice that.

This game you were playing with him? This seducing thing? With little skirts and shit, yeah it was doing something to him.

Maybe you haven’t changed as much as he thought. As they say, old habits die hard.

After about 15 more minutes of unspoken thoughts, you finally arrived at the store.

Why did you agree to do this again? Oh yeah, you didn't.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you took a deep breath to try and regain your composure. Just focus on the task. Opening the door, you hopped down and out onto the recently snow-shoveled pavement with Toji following suit as he turned off the truck, taking the keys from the ignition and shutting the door behind him.

You could feel Toji’s burning gaze boring into your back as he walked behind you, keeping a slight distance between you and him but still enough that people could tell that you two came together. Entering into the store, you whipped out your phone, unlocking it and clicking on the notes app filled with a list of things you needed to get that your mom instructed you two to buy. You crossed your fingers hoping you could get all this done quickly and smoothly.

Obviously, life loves to humor you because things did not go smoothly.

Everything was going well at first, you scoured the aisles looking for streamers, fairy lights, pretty napkins, silver and white balloons, and whatever else was needed; putting it all into the basket that Toji was holding, still following you like a sort of puppy—or more like a guard dog with the menacing aura he carried around himself with every step he took.

Walking around you’d occasionally find something that caught your eye, tinkering around with the item for a couple seconds before putting it back down and walking over to the next intriguing thing—like a snow globe you found of a character you recognized filled with pink and white sparkly snow. You bet your ass you added that one to the basket. That hello kitty snow globe was a need, not a want. How something like that even found its way to a store like this was beyond you, but hey, you weren’t complaining.

You even found cute little hats while looking around and managed to get Toji to wear a pair of elf ears while you wore a Santa hat, telling him a silly joke about how he was Santa’s jolliest helper. That only earned you a huff, and roll of his eyes as he took off the ears and pulled the hat you wore down over your face, chuckling as he watched you make dramatics about how you were being suffocated despite being able to breathe perfectly fine.

Interacting like this with him gave you butterflies. You’d let him ruin your perfectly styled hair if it meant things were going back to the way they used to be between you both.

Everything was going fine.

You were actually having…fun. Which you hadn’t anticipated. You were so caught up about feeling like you were on thin ice with Toji, and though you still sort of felt that way, you felt ecstatic that things were beginning to feel normal. Like nothing even happened.

“Hmm, looks like the last thing on this list are more scented candles. Thought we already had some? Oh well.” You shrugged your shoulders. You think your own obsession with candles might have stemmed from your mom now that you think about it.

Toji leaned his body over your shoulder, looking down over your list himself at the check marked boxes except for one. You immediately stiffened up, not expecting him to get so close to you, and especially not for him to make body contact with you. You wish you didn’t have all these layers in the way. You internally shook the thought off before it could escalate. Now was not the time to be having these touched starved thoughts!

Pulling away from you, but still keeping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, he put the basket down next to your feet. “Yeah, I saw a couple of those on the other aisle we passed by.”

“Oh good! One of us can get it. Stay here and I’ll quickly-“ Your suggestion didn’t even have a chance to reach the other end of Tojis ears before it got shut down.

“Nah, you stay here, and stay put while I grab it. And don’t go straying off you understand, kid?” Toji looked down at you, waiting for your answer. He’d rather not leave your side, especially since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t get distracted by something and walk off like a lost mouse-but he tried to reason out in his head that it was only one item. He’d quickly get it and come back, and you’d still be there.

You weren’t going anywhere.

So why did he find it so hard to walk away from you? Must be some type of trauma he thinks.

Nodding your head, with a ‘Mhm! Promise. Not going anywhere. Nope, staying put.’ Toji searched your face to see if you were lying but decided you weren’t, and began jogging off towards another aisle in a different section of the store.

He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this as he looked over at all the scented candles, picking up the most expensive looking ones.

“S’not my money anyway..”

Maybe he should’ve just taken you along with him. It’s not like it would’ve caused the both of you any more hassle than going alone would. Shit. Something was gnawing at Toji to hurry the hell up and get back to you. As he briskly walked to the aisle where he had left you, he was met with something far worse than overpriced décor, and it had him seething.

There you were, face scrunched up, and looking highly uncomfortable as some random guy, around your age it seemed, was trying to flirt with you.

Keyword: Trying.

Toji didn’t know who this guy was but he knew damn well what was happening, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not on his watch. That he wasn't even wearing. 

You hadn't noticed Toji's arrival yet. Still preoccupied with keeping calm and trying to ignore this random man that thought it would be chivalrous of himself to make comments about your body. Saying things about how he doesn't know why your man let you out like that, and if you were his bitch he wouldn't let you out his sight.

It's a good thing Toji wasn't there to hear any of that.

What Toji did hear as he was silently coming up behind the both of you, that almost made him run up and deck the guy in the nuts was when he leaned his body down exaggeratedly to look at your ass and said, "DAMN. That's more ass than…. I've seen….in a while!"

This prick didn't even know where the hell he was going with that line, but Toji sure knew where that guy was gonna end up if he tried it again.

At this point, you were more than ready to kick this guy in the balls, but you didn't want to anger him. Who knows what this guy has got going on in his head? He's harassing you at a decor store for fucks sake!

Before you were thinking about making a run for it to the direction of where Toji had gone, deeming your situation helpless without him; it seemed like someone finally answered your prayers because the moment you looked back, there he was standing right behind the both of you.

'How did I not notice him?? He's wearing slides for god sake! I should've heard the 'plip' 'plaps'!'

"The fuck are you doing?"

The guy was still leaning down when Toji spoke up. He was about to cuss out whoever this other guy was for interrupting his daily "I objectify women for fun" hobby, until he looked up. There Toji stood, 6'2, built like he was made for war, in his shorts and slides, holding candles, and a look so threatening etched onto his face, you think this guy may have almost shit his pants. If the audible gulp meant anything.

"O-oh fuck. Look sir, I was just admiring your hard work, very beautiful daughter you have here. Didn't realize…Sorry." The way he ran away was almost pitiful. Almost. But none of you had any pity for trash.

'Well that was quick', Toji thought. He assumed he might've had to light up this candle he was holding and choke him with it but it seems that wouldn't be happening today.

That's one less crime the authorities could pinpoint on him.

Turning his attention towards you, he asked if you were alright.

"Sort of…not really. Being objectified isn't exactly the greatest feeling…" Toji noticed the way you hugged your hands around yourself, most likely trying to cover up. Suddenly feeling too exposed for comfort despite attempting to brush the interaction off.

Maybe you should've listened to Toji earlier and changed your clothes to something more fitting for winter weather. Screw looking cute.

Though, the regret didn't have a chance to get very far because suddenly you were being brought back to the present.

"Lift your arms up."

Huh? "Wh- why?" The next thing he did nearly had your heart leaping out of your chest. Taking off his puffer jacket, he nudged your arms to lift up so he could help put it through the holes of the sleeves. After checking to make sure it was on properly, he zipped it up a bit more than halfway and patted you down in an effort to make you look a little bit less like the emo version of the Michelin Man.

"You gonna be okay?" You were still a little surprised at the gesture, especially since it was coming from him of all people, but you answered, "..Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Good. Lemme finish paying for all this crap and I'll drop you off at your place."

Leading the way towards the cashier, he placed his large palm over your lower back and kept it there until your goods were paid for, and you were out the door.

Situating yourself on the seats of Toji's car, you couldn't help but feel a smile creep up on you, desperately trying to bite it back. You're wearing his coat.

He put his coat on you.

You think you could die of happiness right now. But, you'll save that for later. That whole fiasco that happened at the store still had your mood all sour. You really didn't want to go home yet. And as Toji began to pull out of the parking lot, you spoke up.

"Toji? I don't really feel like going home yet.."

"Yeah? Aight. We'll stop somewhere, I know a place."

Nodding your head, you mumbled a 'thanks', grateful that he took the hint and didn't try to argue with you or ask any questions. Toji can be empathetic when he wants to be sometimes.

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Apparently, when Toji said he 'knew a place', you didn't expect it to be…this.

"Cinnabon? Really?"

"What? You don't like their cinnamon buns? We can go someplace else if you don't want em.” 

You paused. Well, now that you were thinking about it…"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I do like those."

“Besides,” Walking over to the counter to order, Toji got into line, “I remember ya telling me one time that you liked this place." 

He still remembers something like that? 

You didn’t answer. Instead you followed the nod of Toji’s head telling you to leave the ordering to him and to go find a table to sit at. Looking around, you saw that all the tables were already preoccupied. Damn. Walking back to Toji, you suggested ordering it to go and just finding some place else to sit at like that wooden bench you saw just outside the establishment, which he seemed to favor far more.

Leaving him to his vices, you exited the shop and went to sit outside on the storefront bench, patiently waiting for Toji to get back with your food. Looking around there was still a thin sheet of snow covering some areas of the pavement, most having melted throughout the day or driven over by now. Yet it seemed as though the temperature had no plans of rising as you breathed out a puff of steam, remaining at its crisp, nearly frosty condition. It felt peaceful.

The few minutes of alone time you had to yourself was the most silence your brain has allowed itself to be in within the 24 hours of Tojis reintroduction into your life. 

The oversized puffer jacket you still had on made those hours feel shorter by reminding you of just how much "excitement" had managed to happen—you bet you looked silly as hell with it engulfing your frame, but you couldn't find it in you to care about that at this moment. Especially since it was serving its purpose of protecting you against the cold that you found yourself surrounded by as you sat there waiting.

Leaning back against the wood, you felt something hindering you from going all the way. Your teddy bear backpack. You forgot you even had it on as it was hidden underneath the coat Toji had quickly put on you. Yeah, you must've looked really stupid. Fighting back a grimace and ignoring the fact for your own peace of mind, you went to remove the coat. Leaving it piled behind you on the bench as you took off your bag, placing it onto your lap. 

Reaching into your bag, you took out your trusty emergency makeup kit. Wouldn't hurt to do a quick touch up… Looking over in the direction of the sudden sound of a bell being rung, you peered over to your left to see that it was just someone stepping foot out the shop with a cup of what looked to be hot chocolate. 

'Hopefully Toji get's back soon.'

Focusing back on the task at hand, you clicked open a compact inspecting the state of the way you looked with the mirror. The sight that greeted you brought out a breath of relief. Not a single thing out of place. But just in case, you patted on a little bit of powder for good measure, and reapplied your clear lipgloss so the cold air could struggle to nip at your lips. 

After assessing what needed to be assessed, you put your pouch back into your bag and immediately piped up at the sound of the door chiming again. You couldn't help but do a small cheer as you saw that it was finally Toji approaching you, carrying a bag containing your icing drenched cinnamon bun, a hot drink of some sort, and a bottle of water. 

Handing you your food and drink, you thanked him and immediately dug in once it was within your grasp. Taking a bite, a bit of steam emitted from the warm and gooey bun melting on your tongue, flooding your taste buds with a mix of sweet and nutty spice. Damn, you were a lot hungrier than you thought. But you suppose that's due to having skipped breakfast in the morning. Stuffing more into your mouth, your eyes met Toji's to see him already sitting beside you and looking down at you, snickering.

"Hwat?" The question came out muffled from your cheeks being stuffed like a squirrel.

He looked off to the side for a second, still snickering before he answered, "Nothin." 

Swallowing your food down harshly, you pouted with your brows scrunched together and took notice that you were the only one eating. 

"How come you didn't get yourself one?"

He deadpanned. "I don't want diabetes." 

"Right…of course not…" Such a Toji answer, you thought.

It felt a little weird to be the only one eating, but he kept refusing everytime you asked if he was absolutely sure he didn’t at least want a bite. It was silent between you two except for the occasional slurp of your drink, and you think Toji noticed it too because suddenly he started conversing with you, catching up a little bit on how the both of you have been.

"So kid, how's the university life been treatin' ya?"

"Hm? Oh uhm, it's been alright I guess." You shrugged, fork still in hand.

"Just alright? Sounds pretty lackluster to me."

"It is." You sighed. 

"You tellin' me you don't, what- party? Or done those weird cultist initiations you kids do at sororities." 

"Yeah…no. I'm too busy actually studying most of the time. I've been to like 2-ish? parties, but that's about it. And sororities? You couldn't possibly pay me to join one of those.” You’ve heard one too many stories of premature deaths being caused by sororities. You didn’t particularly feel like gambling your chances. Plus, you weren’t really into the whole sisterhood-brotherhood thing, too weird.

As the conversation progressed between your frankly unexciting school life, Toji recalled some neighborhood fiasco that happened while you were away. 

"...Then this kid's boyfriend starts beating up the guy that tried to take her purse."

"No way! This really happened in our neighborhood? Where like.. nothing ever happens?" To think that a crime had actually happened in the most safest, suburban of neighborhoods that you lived in for your whole life and you weren't there to witness it.

"I'm tellin' ya it was set up to make himself look good. A robbery in broad daylight? In this neighborhood? Bullshit."

"Why does all the exciting shit always happen when I'm not around?" You whined, sighing out your disappointment.

Closing the box to your nearly finished cinnamon bun and placing it beside you on the bench, you suddenly remembered something. 

"By the way! My mom told me you have a son? How come you never mentioned him to me before?"

And just like that, Tojis brows immediately furrowed as if the question was one he hadn't expected to be asked, especially not coming from you. Leaning forward with a grunt, he rested an elbow on his knee, propping a palm under his chin as he proceeded to look at you with the most dramatically bored expression you’ve ever seen on someone's face- one that rivaled even yours.

It screamed, ‘let's get this shit over with.’

"You never asked. Besides, why you askin' about him now?" 

You noticed the way his mood instantly changed after mentioning him but...it was probably nothing right?

Regardless, he didn't seem to be exactly… excited at the mention of his son, so you treated lightly with your next words. “Well, my mom is telling me that I should start looking for a good boy to date and she mentioned your son.” 

He laughed out in disbelief. “Gumi? That boy? Ha, good luck with that. He wouldn’t know the first thing on how to treat a girl.” 

He couldn’t treat you the way I could. Is what he wanted to say. 

Awkwardly you answered, “Well… anyway, I don't think he even goes to my Uni…I think. So it wouldn't really be an option.” 

Toji stayed silent. 

The sudden uncomfortable silence that took over had you overthinking all over again. 

What's wrong? Does he have a bad relationship with his son? Is that why he looks irritated? Should I ask? No. He might get more irritated. Shit. Okay, subject change.

Slamming your hands onto your thighs a little too hard in an attempt to calm your nerves, the sound seemed to catch Tojis attention. Snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, and back to his usual demeanor.

You rubbed your arms out of awkwardness. “Sooo, yeah. Sucks, I wasn't there to witness a fraudulent act of chivalry right in my own neighborhood."

Toji was thankful you moved on from the topic of his son, he didn’t want to think of that little squirt right now. 

But then it got him wondering…

"You ever had a boyfriend before?" 

The question surprised you a little. Okay maybe a lot. You didn't think he'd be even remotely interested in your love life. 

"No… I've never had one." While there was no shame in not having had a significant other at your age, still you couldn't help but feel embarrassed admitting it to Toji.

Toji raised a brow in suspicion. "You sure you're staying clear of boys?" 

This behavior he was exhibiting was starting to confuse the hell out of you. First he scolds you on your attire this morning, and now he's interrogating you on your love life? He was being way overprotective, almost acting as a parent, and it was seriously beginning to make you feel hopeless. 

You nodded. "Yes, Toji. I'm not interested in college guys. They don't know what they're doing,"

That answer seemed to be good enough for Toji, but to both his and your utter surprise you continued, "But I've done other things."

Straightening his back up against the wooden bench in interest, Toji beckoned you to continue on. Truth be told, he didn't want to hear you talking about boys. Just the thought of you with some dumbass little boy made him irrationally bothered. But there was one thing itching at him to ask. 

One thing he simply had to know.

"Oh yeah?"

"Just casual stuff. Nothing serious.."

Toji hummed. It was cute how you were beating around the bush about whatever 'things' you've done. He'll humor you this time around.

"We talkin' the 'clothes on' type of stuff?"

"Well…not exactly.." 

Your lack of elaboration following your answer made Toji egg you on further.

"Don't start gettin' all shy on me now. Let me take a guess, this has somethin' to do with how you mentioned that college boy's don't know what they're doing, yeah?

And like clockwork, the words proceeded to flow past the tip of your tongue without a second thought.

"Remember how I also mentioned earlier that I've gone to only a few parties? Well at one of those parties, I got left alone by my friends in favor of hooking up with some guys they thought were hot." 

"Sounds like some shitty friends." 

You grunted. "Tell me about it. Anyways, here I am, sitting alone on this couch that's thankfully only mildly sticky from whatever wasted student had spilled their drink on top of it, and this guy sits right next to me. We talk, things happen, and we find an empty room."

Toji hums, signaling to you that he's still listening.

Immediately, irritation is apparent on your face by the way your eyes narrow as you recall the memory. "He puts his hands in my pants and this dumbass can't for the life of him find where my clit is and is just rubbing around. Then he has the nerve to ask if I came yet!? Bitch I'm not even moaning!"

Toji nods, intently listening to your rant. Biting back his amusement at your outburst.

"And the same fuckin thing happens again except with a different guy I had been seeing for less than a week. Except—get this, he asks me what a clit is. Like are you for real!?"

Taking a deep breath, you tried channeling your nerves. "So that's that. College boy's don't know where the clit is—hell, they don't even know of its existence." 

Slumping your shoulders, you kicked at the tiny stones on the cement with your shoe. 

"It's why I've never gone further than that." 

If you were being honest, even if those guys did know their way around a woman's body, you don't think you could find it within yourself to stick around for it. You already knew what your mind was banging against your skull to say. Deep down, somewhere in the backrooms of your brain, you know it's because of Toji. It's always been him; the man you're still holding out for. Hoping he'd be the one to take your virginity. 

Whatever. It was a pipe dream anyway. And you definitely weren't going to tell him that.

Speaking of telling him…

‘Why did you tell him all that!? Why did you have to run your mouth!!’

You stammered out an apology. The gravity of what you just up and confessed dawned on you, leaving you a cringing mess from within.

"I-I'm sorry…I don't even know why im telling you all this-"

Toji is quick to dismiss the apology. Truth be told, he was delighted to hear that you were still a virgin.

“Don't worry bout it’. It's nothing to be embarrassed of.

“I mean yeah…but still…”

Turning to face you, Toji placed his hand gingerly upon your thigh, giving it a light squeeze in what you assumed to be an attempt at reassurance or maybe it was comfort? You couldn't really tell, you just knew that the warmth of it felt nice.

“Listen, if I’m tellin’ you that being a virgin is nothin’ to be ashamed of, then its not. Look at it this way, you ain’t a teen mom, something not many can say nowadays.” He shrugged.

He kind of had a point. Though his comforting skills were kind of ass.

“Yeah..okay. Thanks for listening then.”

“No problem.” 

You thought after your little rant the atmosphere would return to its awkward state as it seems that's how it had been every time you spoke with Toji—yet oddly enough, it felt like you had somehow managed to get closer to him by opening up about your struggles. 

Suddenly feeling a spout of hunger befall you once more, you took the last remaining bite of your cinnamon bun, slowly licking off the icing that had gotten smeared onto your lips. 

Toji eyed the action intently, internally shaking a head at himself. 

‘This little minx..’  but before you could make eye contact he abruptly withdrew his hand, fishing a phone out his pocket and checking the time. Huh, you hadn't even noticed his hand had still been on you.

“It's already almost 4, think it's time to call it a day.”

With a sound of surprise, you rose up from your seat, closing the box once more as you watched Toji stand up from his own spot, already patting on his pockets for the car keys. 

You hadn't even noticed that much time had gone by.

“Thanks again for the cinnamon buns and of course, for listening.” 

Toji only hummed in acknowledgement.

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The ride home was spent surrounded by the sounds of muffled radio chatter, ever so slightly noticeable with the engine of the truck at a constant thrum. The sun surprisingly hadn't gone down yet as it typically would have on any other winter day and you made sure to thank your lucky stars for those few more minutes of sunlight.

On the other hand, you couldn't help but feel sad. You didn't want the day to end yet, especially not when progress had been made between the two of you. Then it hit you, progress had been made. While you didn't actually confront him about what had transpired on that faithless day, it was still worth celebrating. 

Baby steps are still steps after all. 

And the more you thought about it, it began to occur to you that today…today kinda felt like a date. In a messed up sense. To others this would've been a failure of a day, but to you? You were elated.

‘Maybe now's my chance to talk to him about what happened back then.’

Sitting up just a little bit straighter in your seat, you turned your head to face Toji, contemplating on the right words to say to him. Just when you were on the verge of starting your sentence, Toji’s phone suddenly began to ring, vibrating atop the center console. 

Without bothering to check who was calling him, Toji answered the phone, putting it on speaker. Nothing to be worried about anyway, probably some scammer giving Toji his routine call.

“Yo, what’s up?”

Without a second to waste, a feminine voice practically cried from the other end.

“Tojiiii, baby it’s been so long, when are you coming over?? You know I miss you-” 

Before this unknown lady could hope to finish her sentence, she was abruptly hung up on–courtesy of Tojis hand flying to take the call off speaker, fumbling for a good second only to ultimately end the call for good measure.

Clearing his throat, Toji continued to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead. Can't be having you both end up in a car crash right? 

“Sorry about that, that was… just one of my old close friends.”

“Uh huh. Ya’ll must've been real close.”

Toji ignored the snark.

“Anyways, go ahead, what were you saying?” 

“I…wasn’t saying anything.”

Thankfully the call was received just minutes short of arriving at your home. Pulling into the driveway, the truck on neutral, you waited a few seconds to see if Toji would say anything more. He didn’t.

Holding back a shaky sigh, you unbuckle your seatbelt and exited the vehicle, opening the passenger side to pick up the bags of decor that you went to buy in the first place.

“Wait, let me help ya out-” Toji last minutely interjected as he turned his body over in his seat to face you.

“No need. I already got it.” Picking up the last bag (thankfully they weren’t very heavy), you slammed the passenger door shut. You contemplated giving Toji a proper farewell bidding but with the way you were feeling right now? You didn’t want him to see the ache painted in your eyes. Instead, you continued walking down the shoveled path and up the steps to your house, fishing the keys out from your keychain and unlocking the door, closing it behind you.

Kicking your shoes off and slipping some slippers onto your feet, you laid the bags over the kitchen counter letting whoever discovered them first deal with the contents inside as you made your way up the stairs to your room, plopping onto your bed face first.

You nearly teared up at your own naivety.

Holy shit. ‘I’m so stupid.’ Was all you could think of as the booty call Toji had received replayed in your mind. This wasn’t any new information on Toji that you hadn’t already known about yet it hurt so bad. 

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On the other hand, Toji couldn’t help but feel the same way. When he saw you safely get back into your home, he shifted gears to reverse, pulling out the driveway and driving back to his own place. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled out his phone from the cup holder it fell into amidst his struggle to end the call earlier and proceeded to call them back.

One ring was all it took for them to answer, and one second was all it took for Toji to cut them off before they could say anything more.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me again, understand? Good. Now, fuck off.” Hanging up before she could respond or attempt to call back like an idiot, he blocked her.

Letting out a rather loud groan of irritation, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands in indignation, letting his head fall as he could feel a headache coming on.

“Fuck.”

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Laying on your bed disappointed, you curled up thinking about the events that transpired earlier. The whole trip felt like an actual date—up until that call anyway. It was probably the worst way the day could have ended. Your bad luck was unimaginable.

“I need to find myself a four leaf clover or something at this point…”

Honestly, you didn't want to get out of bed. You wanted to lay down and wilt like a flower that never gets any sunlight. Stuffing your face into your arm, it occured to you that you were still wearing Toji’s jacket. 

“Maybe I should stop trying to go after someone who’ll never like me back…” You mumbled to yourself, sitting up and throwing the coat towards the nearest chair it could land on.

Were you really this delusional? You saw the way he was looking at you—you shook your head, trying not to overthink it. 

‘I guess I had the wrong idea.’

Feeling defeated, you knew if you wanted to continue moping about this, you’d have to do it after a shower; lest you end up skipping your skincare routine leaving you with another thing to sulk about.

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You couldn’t sleep.

Restless, you tossed and turned trying to find that sweet spot that would have you suddenly waking up to the birds singing. Come the fuck on..! I just want to sleep, dammit!

Grunting, it seemed no matter where you tried to place yourself within the comfort of your sheets and plethora of pillows engulfing you, you just couldn’t seem to knock yourself out.

Only one option left.

Slipping a hand underneath the blanket, you let your fingers wander across your skin. Giving each of your tits a soft squeeze under your shirt as you slowly began to relax, sighing in content at a teasing roll of your bud, slowly hardening at your touch. 

Growing tired of the teasing and beginning to feel heavy with need, you ran a finger down your panties, keeping it firmly pressed against your slit as you slowly raised your hips up and down in tandem with your middle finger, rubbing yourself over the cotton material. You could feel yourself getting hotter, wetter. A small, sticky patch of your own arousal seeping through the garment as you finally had enough, moving your panties to the side and making contact with your sickened clit. You wasted no time in parting your lips with your pinky and index, and letting both your middle and ring finger draw tight circles over your bundle of nerves. Immediately settling into a steady rhythm that was sure to have you quickly coming undone. 

As your breathing picked up, so did the small whimpers escaping through your lips. You tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, but fuck was it hard when all you wanted to do was mewl out a certain someones name, imagining it was him playing with your pussy like this. 

Toji. 

Even just sounding his name out in your head had you bucking your hips against the friction you were creating. His large, warm hand stuffed down your panties, and cupping your pussy from behind while rubbing at the entire expanse of your puffy cunt messily. Fast. Drenching his palm in your juices. Wondering what it'd feel like to have his long, fat fingers plunge into you as your own currently probes at your clenching hole, dipping in slightly only to take it back out. It didn't feel—wouldn't feel nearly as good unless it were his. 

You felt so close. Your fingers were starting to ache as you exerted them, moving it against your swollen clit quicker than before. It started to hurt, but the feeling of adrenaline rushing through you to finish made your brain block it out, replacing it with the endorphins of white hot pleasure that you anticipated to burst at any minute now. 

You clamped your legs around your hand, curling into your side like a ball. You wanted to stop, it was too much. But you were so fucking close. Your shaky whines were no longer being held back, eyes squeezed shut and the side of your face pressed against your pillow muffling it as best you could to prevent it from being heard outside. 

Just a little more…

Come on come on come on..! Your hand wouldn't stop unless your body reached its peak, only increasing in its pace. Holding your breath, the sound of your palpating heart was deafening as you continued letting out harsh pants.

You felt the familiar feeling of your lower abdomen tightening, coiling up and finally bursting like a dam. Your toes curled up as you threw your head back further into the pillow, unable to stop the sudden cry of Toji’s name that accidentally slipped out from your parched mouth at the pressure of your orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave.

Before you could bask in your post orgasmic bliss, Toji bursts through your door. The fucking man himself. In the flesh..?

In a panic, you pull your stiff hand away from between your legs as if it were scalding hot oil, grasping the blanket up towards your chin to cover what you’d just been essentially caught doing.

“Heard you screamin’ my name out, sweetheart.” 

You’d think any normal reaction to being intruded on by the person you were just fantasizing about would be to first ask some questions—yet there you laid calm as a cucumber, watching as he inched closer to you.

Toji smirked. “Don’t start gettin’ all shy on me now. Let me hear you scream my name again for me.”  

You don’t know how he got to you so quickly but Toji was already slipping his hand under the covers towards your pussy, finding it slick and sticky from your high, smearing it all over as he ran his fingers up and down your sensitive slit. 

Retracting his hand back from underneath, he relished in the way your arousal stuck to his fingers like a spider's web as he spread them out, glistening against the soft lighting of your suddenly oddly hazy looking room.

Fueled with newfound urgency, Toji threw the covers off of you, yanking your body up to stand on the floor as you both made your way towards your vanity, back hitting the edge of it as you steadied yourself against Toji's chest. It was all moving too quickly. Too fast. Before you could stop to process your surroundings properly, Toji’s large hand hastily groped your tits as his other fingers that were touching on your pussy earlier prodded at your mouth to open. Without a word, you wrapped your lips around them like a good girl, sucking—tasting yourself before he removed them in order to turn you around. 

Just then, you realized you both were naked as Toji lifted one of your legs up onto the vanity, dragging his wet fingers over his cock as he moved to align it with your dripping hole. You couldn't form a thought. As if on autopilot. Only the unbridled, desperate need to have Toji in you remained.  

No. Scratch that. You felt your own thoughts before you could form them, as if it weren’t your own. It definitely was though. You don’t think anyone could too how fucking badly you wanted this man. Now he was finally about to fuck you? You may as well have been the luckiest woman on planet earth.

And as you begin to feel the sensation of Toji's cock about to enter you—confirming that notion, the door to your room bursts open again.

Wait.

“Wake up.”

What?  

“Wake up!”

Is that my fucking cat talking!?

“WAKE UP!”

Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with early winter sun seeping through your thin curtains, casting a hazy glow into your room. You hear birds singing.

“What the hell was that…” Stretching the sleep out of your limbs, you noticed your hand was still situated inside your panties. 

You closed your eyes, trying to recall your dream. “So half of that was real?” Well, up until Toji bursted into your room, you suppose. And when your cat spoke up telling you to wake the fuck up. 

Ugh.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, leaning over the bedside to pull your diary sitting on your nightstand towards your lap. You had to write this shit down. 

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

After jotting down as much as you could recall from the dream without mixing it up with what you were actually getting up to in real life, you left the diary on the same vanity dream version Toji almost dicked you down on. 

Throughout the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Toji. Hell, your feelings for him increased tenfold just from that measly dream alone. You don't know if it's solely your dreams doing that made you feel like you suddenly had a genuine chance with him but fuck it. 

You thought about the events of yesterday and recalled when he grasped your thigh. That couldn’t have just been nothing right? The way he eyed your lips too as you licked icing off them. He didn't think you noticed, but you did. Of course you did. It was on purpose after all. 

And the icing on the cake? When you brought up his son, Megumi. You didn't want to assume anything but you could've sworn you sensed jealousy swimming in those green eyes of his. How ironic.

Shit, maybe you do have a chance with Toji after all. All he needs is a little push.

With all the evidence stacked up in your favor, you knew you had to devise a plan.

A plan on how to seduce your neighbor.

You giggled to yourself. 

“Mama chose a thought daughter.”

© SUGUCIDAL 2024 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 10: Do You Wanna Hear About The Deal That I’m Making?

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 (Here!) / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 /

A morgue is always cold.

Morgues are cold to slow down decomposition and preserve bodies until they are needed for autopsy or other procedures. Refrigeration helps to reduce bacterial growth and enzymatic activity, which are the main causes of decay.

Jason hated the cold. And morgues.

But he was sucking it up for the sake of finding answers. 

That encounter with her had left him with questions. Many questions. 

Jason hadn’t expected Dick’s rambles of delirum to be true, just some exaggerated tantrum over not having attention him for more than a five minutes. But now, he was starting to understand some of the fuss running rampant amongst the family.

He knew she’d be different, that she would become angry. Resentful. Full of spite.

Just like him. Finally. Someone who knows the same pain. The same resentment. The same anger.

But it wasn’t like that with her. It wasn’t the same.

Jason had some expectations set the moment he found out about the murder attempt. That all of those involved would be killed by his hand (because it’s what he she would have wanted). That he would shove it all over Bruce’s face (what he should have done for him her). And that he would be the only person to truly understand him (because she thinks like him, feels like him, she needs him-)

He had accomplished the first two.

The third one, however, was coming on a bit more complicated than expected.

Jason expected fury, fists flying, screaming, crying, yelling, biting. He expected fingers pointed at the old man, claims of revenge, a need for blood and justice to be served.

Instead, he got a sleepwalking fugitive who looked at him with the same fear as before.

That same weary look was on the corners of the manor whenever he visited. That tremble of shoulders whenever he spoke, as if his voice spooked her. Those flinches whenever he stepped a bit closer in her direction. 

The only thing that was gone was the quietness of her voice, now replaced by a firmer, louder tone that lessened the boiling frustration underneath his skin.

Where was the anger? Where was the thirst for revenge? She was supposed to be like him now. Broken and hurt. He was supposed to pick the pieces and rebuild. Be like him. Because she is like him now. They are the same, and he wants her to act out and yell and stop lookiNG AT HIM IN FEA-

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Red Hood?”

…That’s right. He’s here for answers.

And for those answers, he had to get them from the only person who was able to provide them.

Dr. Rio Vidal was an unsettling woman and more. She had been the one to do the autopsy on the bastards that bullied his sister (after dumping what was left of the bodies right in front of the station with incriminating proof tapped on their chests), and just one small talk was enough for Jason to decide that he would not spend more than it was necessary around that woman.

He didn’t like how every hair underneath his armor stood up when he crossed looks with that woman.

Something about her wasn’t… right.

But he would ignore the knot in his stomach that twisted tighter and tighter with every second that passed in her presence until he got what he wanted.

“I need a medical file on one of your patients.” His modulator hid very well the tension in his voice.

The doctor turned around, locking one of the small metal refrigerator doors in the wall with a fake smile. “And instead of taking it from my office, you came straight to me? I am very flattered, Red Hood.”

He did not like the dark glint in her eyes when she drawled out his name.

“Didn’t find the patient that I’m looking for.” His fingers gripped the holsters strapped to his belt.

“And that would beee?” She blinked repeatedly with a sharp, unsettling smile.

Jason felt cold sweat dripping down his temple, the longer he continued to keep direct eye contact with the woman. He could feel the smugness coming out of her when he diverted his gaze towards the fridges.

“The Wayne girl.” He uttered, ignoring the exaggerated gasping of Dr. Vidal as she clutched her hand to her chest.

“How silly of me! I was carrying it with me today!” She boasted, turning back around towards a table that had neat, clean files. Flipping through them until she grabbed a thick file and waved it eagerly at him. “They were requested to be taken out for comparisons of blood analysis.”

That got his attention, grabbing the file, but Dr. Vidal’s grip on it caught him off guard. “Who requested such a thing? Was it the commissioner?”

He tried to take the file from her, but she held onto it with a tight smile. “No, that would have been me.”

“What for?” Jason didn’t like the fact that this person, in particular, was going around doing tests with his sister’s samples.

“Easy, Red,” she eased, finally letting go of the documents and crossing her arms. “I was just curious about how advanced her healing was coming along. Not everyone heals from a deadly head wound that fast, and I’m sure you are well aware of that... due to your line of work, hm?”

There. That was it.

Healing. His sister had sleepwalked from Wayne Manor to Chinatown in the middle of the night while barefoot and in pajamas, and there wasn’t a single scratch on her feet, nor woken up the next day sick (because last time he checked, she got sick easily. He remembered the various times she got sick for staying outside in the rain for a bit. It was ridiculous-) by what Alfred told him when he called to check up.

Most people would have put it as luck, but Jason knew better than that because of various reasons.

One of them being how the hell did she make 12 miles in less than five minutes. 

He had a theory, multiple ones, actually. 

One of them being that the water of the pool she fell into when she was attacked was lazarus’ pit water. It was far fetched and proved wrong when he ran some tests with the samples he had gathered from her old school bag. 

There was another one that it could be related to the pool as well. That it could have some odd chemicals and had altered her or something amongst that line. But it was also discarded when all the test showed that it was just old still water that could only have given her a nasty virus.

Which lead to the next theory that none of what was going on with her was happening because of outside elements or sources.

But it could something more internal. 

Bodily kind of internal.

And that was just a whole new pipeline he wasn’t sure he was ready to go down by.

“Any changes I should keep an eye on, Doc?” he pried, gloved fingers tightening on the edges of the file.

Rio hummed out loud with pursed lips, before shrugging. “Nothing special. I’m pretty sure all of her progress is tied to her bloodline. She certainly has quite the strong family. Strong genes, if you catch my drift.”

‘Definitely from Old B’s side,’ he thought bitterly, nodding at the woman and making his way out as fast as possible without bringing attention to himself from the cold freezer.

The green witch simply shook her head, grinning from side to side as things finally started to get more intense.

She needed to plant that small seed of doubt so everything could start to grow and stretch out some roots of chaos on the too comfortable Maximoff. It was very exciting for her to see how her new favorite pet would be able to manage the new obstacles coming on her way.

But nothing that the girl couldn’t handle, she even had some help on her side without noticing.

And, Rio still needed her to find her things.

All according to the plan.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“I’m honestly surprised he’s still standing.”

Conner scoffed, scraping out his food plate in the trash can. “More surprised that Damian didn’t hose him down the moment we got here.”

Barbara smiled as she sipped her coffee, sitting at the main table that was low enough for her wheelchair, letting her gaze wander off to the young man who began to clean up his dirty dishes in the sink.

Both of them had arrived early in the morning at the manor, with Barbara getting there first and then followed by the younger titans.

She had gotten asked by Dick yesterday to meet up for a relaxing outing that day in the evening along with his sister, thinking it would be a great way to bond and spend more time with the younger girl. 

Since said girl seemed to prefer talking with Barbara over Dick himself, judging by their last interaction earlier that week. Barb found it hilarious how Dick was clearly trying to get her attention just to get ignored by a very talkative girl that was set on asking Barbara tons of questions.

If Barbara was being honest, she thought Dick was making the wrong move. 

He couldn’t just force her to spend time with him, especially if he was using Barbara as a middle ground, which pissed her off to no end. Did he honestly believe he wasn’t being that obvious?

Was she going to follow along with his plan? No, obviously. If he wanted to fix his relationship with his sister, he would have to do it on his own and earn her trust back with his blood and sweat. 

She was not helping him out in this, not this time.

Besides having sent Dick a text saying that she was going to be busy during the day, Barbara had also come to the manor with other intentions.

Something was up with Cass, and she was worried.

The girl had been acting odd on patrol, something that seemed to only be detected by Barbara and Bruce. 

Looking over her shoulder every minute. Her vitals spiking on the screen whenever a noise was heard in the background. Hearing the sharp breath intakes as she heard a group of girls passing by on the street. Sudden moments of stillness on her tracker, and when Barbara pulled on the body camera, Cass’s position showed her the view of a music store where a soft piano melody played to attract customers.

Maybe she needed a break, to get some time out of the house. And Barbara was more than willing to offer that if it meant avoiding strangling Dick by the neck.

“Don’t you think the case has been taking too long?” Conner’s voice got her attention, responding with a hum. “Usually, they would have been done with it after a few days.”

The young Kryptonian had gotten here about half an hour after Barbara, with a muttering Tim in tow, going directly to the Batcave with most of the recently made coffee in his giant mug and leaving his friend without another word in the kitchen.

To which Alfred extended him the invitation for breakfast, trying to excuse his master’s rude behavior. Conner refused at first, knowing the dark knight wasn’t exactly fond of his presence, but the butler had already served him a plate and disappeared into the halls without another word.

Barbara shook her head, a wry smile on her lips as she leaned back on her chair. “They’re a bit… focused on other issues at the moment.”

Conner gave her a short look before biting inside his cheek, eyes focused on the sink. His fingers flexed on the edge of the counter. I took a few moments of silence before he decided to just be straightforward. 

“Is it about their sister?” his tone was hesitant and low. Taking a glance towards the hall and looking back at Barbara with expectation.

“Did Tim mention anything?” She asked, shifting her body a bit towards Conner.

The boy shook his head, drying his hands by wiping them against the rough material of his jeans (like a heathen-) and walking towards the table. “No, but he seems to forget that I have sharp ears, and he has a habit of muttering to himself out loud.”

Barbara nodded, sighing softly as her fingers wrapped around the warm cup while Conner leaned his crossed arms on top of the back of one of the chairs.

“It’s complicated,” she offered with a shrug. “I’m not sure if I should say it, but she was recently in an accident. It has been a bit tense, as to say-”

The squeaking of sneakers running down the hall made both of them look towards the source of the noise. An understanding look between them, making it clear that their conversation would have to wait.

Then, the same person they had been talking about made her appearance, her excited manner settling down for a moment when she realized there were people in the kitchen.

Connor’s first thought, from the moment he set his eyes on her, was that she looked completely different than what he had pictured in his mind.

There were very few articles on the internet about the blood daughter of Bruce Wayne. Most of them were from tabloids that made sure to put her in a bad light for the public. He had heard many rants from both Lois and Clark about how unprofessional and cruel it was for Gotham media to hound such a young girl from an early age. And he had heard even more angry rants from Lois about Bruce’s lack of action on the situation.

Most of the pictures taken of her were either blurry, unflattering, or showing a spooked expression due to the flashes of the cameras.

Much of what Conner imagined about her was a very socially awkward girl who probably preferred to avoid the spotlight.

The girl in front of him was brighter than the spotlight. 

Wild, long curls pulled in half-up style with a few strands purposely framing her face on the sides. Her roots with faded black hair dye, letting him wonder what her true hair color was like. A white short top, accompanied by an open green track jacket and wide-leg pants. White old sneakers that stood out because of the silver tape surrounding the bottom and edge of the shoes.

“Didn’t know we had visitors today.” She muttered, a smile returning to her face once she realized Barbara was there. The redhead returned her smile, motioning for her to come closer, and both of them hugged quickly. 

“I like the style! Going out today?” Barb asked, holding back a tick in her eye as her mind began to put some pieces together.

“Yeah,” she answered, glancing at Conner for a moment and going towards the kitchen to serve herself a plate before Alfred appeared to do it for her. “I’m gonna hang out with my friends today.”

Connor could hear Barb’s heart rate going up, her smile tightening. He could only imagine what was angering her so much that it made her act like that.

That was when his ears picked up a sound similar to the fluttering of the wings of a hummingbird. Fast paced, almost like a buzzing sound.

“Any plans you guys have?” Barbara’s question snapped him out of concentration, his eyes landing once again on the girl as she took a seat with a serving of eggs almost as big as his daily meals.

She shrugged, taking a few quick bites from the plate as if it were her last meal. “Shopping at the mall. Bobby and Warren are picking me up in a few minutes.”

“Which was why I insisted on getting you up early, my dear,” Alfred’s voice took their attention. An amused look towards the girl’s plate as she grinned at him with a shrug, diving once again into her food. “I would prefer you go out with a full stomach, since who knows what ungodly hour you plan on coming back.”

“I promise to be here around ten, Al.” She recited as if it had been something she had heard multiple times, making Barbara and Alfred chuckle.

“As long as you give daily updates, I don’t mind the hour.” He said, bringing her something to drink as she finished up her plate. “Just be mindful and careful of your surroundings.”

“Will do,” She nodded, giving him her plate and drinking from her cup of juice.

“Didn’t take you as the shopping type…” Conner muttered, gathering the girl's attention, her eyebrow quirked in confusion.

“And you are?” Her tone wasn’t hostile, but it was sharp enough to make Conner adjust his posture, flushing as he took his arms off the seat and offered his hand.

“I’m Conner.” He uttered, smiling when she took his hand. Ignoring the sudden rush under his skin when she let go, that hand went directly to rub the back of his neck. “I’m Tim’s best friend.”

“Huh,” she nodded, getting up from her chair. “Thought you were new sibling, since you kind of fit in all the requirements…” 

She gestured at him, making Barbara snort and Alfred call her in an exasperated tone to which got a laugh out of everyone. The girl took her drink and walked to the sink. 

“No offense, but I think this family has enough testosterone for a lifetime.” That made Conner snicker, avoiding the pointed stare from Barbara by getting closer to the kitchen counter.

“I’m not exactly Wayne material.” He offered, noticing the short and quiet scoff under her breath. Along with the muttered lines ‘neither am I’ that got him frowning and intrigued to ask her more questions.

But that was pushed aside when the sound of beaten-up speakers blasting some Ariana Grande song from the outside was heard pulling up to the front of the manor. 

“I believe that would be Mr. Drake, my dear.” Alfred pointed out after a moment of silence, handing her a small towel to dry her hands.

She quickly dried herself, giving Alfred a short hug and then giving Barb one as well. “I’ll text as soon as I get to the mall,” she promised, starting to walk towards the hall.

“Remember,” Alfred pestered, his voice rising. “Be mindful and be-”

“And be careful, I got it!” She laughed, turning around and walking backwards and blowing him a kiss. Alfred shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

Then, she waved at Conner. “See you around, Conner. Don’t become a Wayne while I'm gone.”

Conner looked at Barb in disbelief, sputtering before speaking in a higher pitch. “I’m actually a-”

The sentence died in the air because she was already gone from the hall. The front door closing echoed on the walls, just as the loud music from the outside started to pull away, along with some laughs and cheers.

“...Not sure what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting that,” Conner muttered, making Barbara sigh with a smile.

“She is like a whirlwind now.” She mentioned. “It wasn’t like this before, it's a new development.”

 ‘Yeah, so I figured.’ Conner’s mind exclaimed. 

She just came in, ate, made an impression that Conner was sure would stay in his mind for a while, joked around, and left without another word.

A tornado would be a more accurate description.

“Word of advice?” He nodded at Barbara, shoving his hands in his pockets as Alfred cleaned up the kitchen, pretending he wasn’t listening to the conversation.

“Keep your eyes to yourself. Especially for now.” Barbara’s gaze became serious, making Conner tighten his jaw.

He tried not to feel offended at the implication of her words. He knew he had a reputation of being a bit of a flirt (all in fun! He had never actually gone beyond flirting with anyone. Not enough time for commitment to relationships.), but he had respect. And he respected Tim a lot. He was his best friend and trusted him completely (No matter how odd he had been behaving lately), and Conner wouldn’t dare mess around with his sister of all people.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t curious about her. Intrigued, even.

Why had Tim never talked about her? They were around the same age, if he was judging well. They probably shared something in common.

Was she in the family business? It didn’t seem like it, she looked like a normal civilian from his point of view. 

Why wasn’t she in the family business?

Now that he thinks about it, the whole family barely mentioned her in the past. 

Barely, as to say never at all.

Something was up, but he was smart enough to know that it wasn’t his call to make.

“I'd rather keep my eyes in my head for now, thank you.”

For now.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

Around 1:30 pm, Maximoff had decided that the mall was one of her favorite places to hang out.

Gotham Mall was like a time capsule, stuck in the glory days of the eighties, by the state of the artificial lights and that distinctive smell of cherry cola and bubble gum that got stuck on your nose and made you dizzy until you got used to it.

Stores of all kinds: clothes, shoes, high-end and low-end brands, jewelry, sports, toys, swimwear, video games, and even movie rentals. There was also a movie theater, a roller skating rink, a few music and record shops, an arcade, and a whole top floor filled with food places.

Warren had taken the role as their guide since Bobby had only gone to a few stores, and Maximoff… well, she was another case.

Wayne had also decided to stay back at the manor once again, malls were not really her thing. And, she had another ‘unfinished task’ that she had to do by herself.

Maximoff knew exactly what that meant, and she was more than okay with staying away from the manor while her companion did her own thing.

Just because she was friends with a ghost, it didn’t mean she liked being around spooky, haunting stuff.

Wayne had her hobbies, and she respected them… from afar.

“What about Aquaman? He’s kind of cool.”

Warren gave Bobby a deadpan stare, who was sipping on his milkshake with an expectant look. “Do I look like the type of guy that would be a fan of Aquaman of all people?”

Bobby shrugged, stealing fries from Warren’s plate to dip them in his sugary drink. “You’re asking the wrong person to judge by appearance.”

“Right,” Warran nodded, dragging his plate closer to him. “Should have known by your horrible taste in pants.”

That got him a pout from the freckled boy, “I have good taste in pants!”

“You only wear jeans, Bobby.”

“They’re comfortable!”

After visiting stores for almost the whole morning, the trio finally decided to eat at the food court. They settled on Bat Burger. Sadly for Bobby, Chili’s was way too full, and Maximoff was halfway through a low-sugar episode and needed food fast.

They sat in a booth, all their bags shoved on the corner of the side where Warren had taken his spot, plastered against the crystal window that gave a view to the sidewalk of the mall just by the electric stairs, while Bobby and Maximoff sat on the other side of the booth.

She had dozed off by staring at the view, her headache settling after scarfing down around ten orders of burgers and fries, two jumbo sodas, and three vanilla milkshakes. 

The boys could only stare in amazement and disbelief while she basically inhaled the food as if someone was going to steal it away from her.

They started some small conversations about mindless themes. About school work, the current films in the theater, the amount of clothes that they bought (well, more like Warren bought for everyone. The moment he found out Bobby was going to use the savings from his scholarship, and that she forgot to bring her credit card [Apparently, Wayne did not have a credit card. Alfred was the one doing all of her money transactions, which was… weird. He had given her some cash for the trip, but she had forgotten the money back in her bedroom.] Warren had slammed down his black card without another word and even dragged them to the high-end stores and went nuts with paying them new sets of clothes.) and many other things.

Which led to their current subject.

Favorite superheroes.

Bobby had brought it up first. Since he was from New York, Metropolis, to be specific, he had a very obvious preference for The Man of Steel. He had even gushed about getting to see him fly by once because of a nearby fire in his neighborhood. 

It would fall short to say that Bobby was a huge Superman fanboy. (As if those ten minutes of probably the longest description ever heard about the hero’s appearance weren’t clear enough.)

This put Bobby on the hunt to figure out who Warren’s favorite hero could be, since the blonde wasn’t interested in giving out such information so easily (meaning, he was making Bobby guess).

“We already discarded the local heroes,” Bobby groaned, “and Flash, Green Lantern, and Aquaman are also out. You’re giving me nothing, War!”

“Get creative, Boo,” He snickered, drinking from his soda with a smug look. 

The brown haired boy sank into his spot with a grumble, crossing his arms and glaring at Warren, who winked at him with a cocky grin while biting the plastic straw of his cup. 

Bobby then gave his attention to the now food-coma girl beside him, sipping on her milkshake absently with a faraway look as her head lay back against the red cushion of the booth. “Give me something to work with, babes. I need content!”

She rolled her head towards Bobby, still sipping from her drink. “What could I possibly offer?”

“What about your favorite hero?” Warren asked, his eyebrow quirking while Bobby jumped on his seat and grinned with expectation, his attitude switching once again.

He did not wait another moment to begin listing off heroes. “Any of the Bats? Maybe a Supe? Oh, how about Wonder Woman?!”

She stayed silent for a few moments, humming to herself while biting on the plastic straw with a frown.

It hadn’t crossed her mind. The whole hero thing.

Her mind was still very muddled. She knew certain things. Basic stuff. And even more, because of all the show references and quotes she says on a daily basis. But where did she learn them from? It came and went, however, it felt like it. Most of the time, it sat on the tip of her tongue. So close to saying it and acknowledging it, but never fast enough to process it. Letting slip right past her.

Which was why having Wayne as a guide was extremely helpful. 

Even if she omitted certain information.

Maximoff would never push her to say anything Wayne didn’t want to share. That girl had had enough of shoving and pushing for a lifetime.

Part of that missing information was about heroes.

Wayne was…avoidant about them when the subject was eventually brought up by Maximoff. It was expected, since she had considered that Batman could be of help in some way. He was a hero (vigilante, but it’s basically the same, right?), and heroes were good guys and helped out people. It was logical.

The hellish screeching and crashing of Alfred’s old Chinese teapot was a clear indication that going for Batman’s help was a big no-no.

Maximoff still tried to research them (she wasn’t going to go around Gotham without knowing about its protectors), and she found their whole dynamic unique and that they somehow still made it work to keep the city protected from bad guys and criminals.

Kudos to them and their work, but she wouldn’t place any of them as her favorite hero.

Don’t get her wrong. They were doing good work, and their suits looked sick and cool, judging by the pictures going around the internet, taken by bystanders throughout the years whenever any of the vigilantes let themselves be viewed by the public.

But, they didn’t strike a chord with her. None of them stood out to her enough to catch her attention.

“I don’t know,” She mumbled, finally taking out the disfigured straw from her mouth. Her gaze moved towards the view of the mall, fingers tapping around her empty cup. “No one calls my attention.”

“C’mon,” Bobby insisted, “There has to be at least one that is your favorite.”

Warren hummed, giving her a furrowed look, “Are vigilantes not your style?”

“Are they yours?” Bobby quipped back, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, nice try. Still not telling you my favorite.”

“Ughh, you’re so boring! Just give me a hint! A tiny one! Anything, ple-”

“Flash.”

The boys turned their heads, both looking at her, confused at why the sudden mention of the speedster hero. She wasn’t even looking at them. Her stare was fixed on the outside view, her eyebrows twisting in a frown as she adjusted her slumping posture to an upright one.

Bobby was the one who talked first, taking advantage of Warren’s diverted attention to steal more fries. “The Flash? Guess it fits you! Fastest man alive, you like to run, and you’re rather fast while doing it too-”

“Not The Flash,” She interrupted him, getting up from her spot and sticking her face to the glass. “I meant a flash.”

Warren got up from his seat, going around the booth to see right behind her point of view, while Bobby scarfed down the leftover fries and looked over her shoulder.

From the first floor of the mall, a series of camera flashes pointed at the food court floor stood out from their view. It was almost impossible to see the people behind the cameras due to the numerous flashes popping up quickly.

The moment a few of those flashes started to move towards the electric stairs, Warren cursed and quickly began to pick up their bags, shoving a few in Bobby’s hands and pulling him out of her way. She instantly moved and picked up the last bags, leaving their discarded trash on the table.

There was no time to clean up, sorry!

“Dude, what is going on?” Bobby questioned as Warren ran out of the fast food place with the others following him closely behind.

“Of all the things that could have slipped my mind,” The blonde muttered angrily as he guided them in the opposite direction of the electric stairs. Some yells and calls of the people with the cameras made Maximoff look over her shoulder, glaring at the annoying flashes as those people continued to take pictures of them while taking the stairs.

The words began to register in their ears.

“It is them!” “It’s Worthington!” “Quickly, they’re getting away!” “Just a few pictures, sir!” “It’s that Wayne?!” “Miss Wayne, look this way!” “Please, let us ask as few questions!” “Wayne, what are you doing with Worthington? Are you friends? Is it a setup by your fathers?” “Who is the other boy? A friend of yours?” “Miss Wayne! Mr. Worthington!”

“Oh god,” Bobby gasped, suddenly accelerating his step as a mob began to form. “Are those paparazzi?!”

Warren took a right, their shoes squeaking against the polished floors and yelling over his shoulder. “Bloodhounds without souls would be more accurate, but yeah!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” She repeated over and over again, easily taking the front of the group, with Warren just behind her and Bobby at the end as they skipped the passersby with excuses and apologies.

Now it made sense why Wayne didn’t like malls.

“Go for the normal stairs! Left side of the hall!” Warren yelled, looking over his shoulder to make sure Bobby was still with them. 

Bobby was struggling with switching the bags to his left hand while running, glancing back at the paparazzi, and cursing when he noticed how close they were. He finished moving the bags, his right hand now free as he searched in his jeans pocket and pulled out his car keys.

“War, catch!” 

Warren caught the keys, pulling the girl back by her jacket before she took the wrong corner, hearing Bobby’s yell and making her look back at the chaos.

Everything suddenly moved in slow motion.

The mob was almost catching up to them, the cameras flashing slowly, and the people moved as if it were zero gravity, and slowly. So slowly, to the point they almost looked like those stop-motion figures for films that were still getting put together for a scene.

Bobby had stumbled with a rack of fabrics that was on display outside a store, the cloths floating around the air and blocking a few cameras from their view.

Bobby, who was with one knee on the floor and a hand about to touch it, looked panicked and pale.

It made her sick to the stomach.

Without thinking too much, she ran.

And it was like never before.

Warren’s grip on her jacket slipped off with ease the moment she took off. It almost felt like floating when her feet made contact with the ground, a sharp ringing in her ears getting pitchier and pitchier, but she put no mind into it. Her free arm shot out to the front, reaching towards Bobby’s arm that was near the ground and lifting him with ease. His weight was almost paperweight in her hands.

Still cold, even colder than before, but still very light.

Once she got him upright, she almost dragged him towards Warren, linking their elbows together without looking back at the paparazzi.

Reaching the stairs was like walking on the moon.

Going down them felt like jumping on a trampoline.

The parking lot was right in front of them, the moment everything came back to normal.

It took a few seconds for Bobby and Warren to fall to the floor and heave out so they wouldn’t throw up their food. Panting and groaning with their eyes closed, faces pale, and fingers trembling.

Maximoff was on some kind of euphoria, skin tingling, and ears blocked by the ringing that grew quieter little by little.

She felt so fucking good.

“Oh. My. God.” She uttered, a cackle of disbelief slipping out of her grinning lips.

The adrenaline. The motion. The ringing. The blood pumping. It all felt so good. It felt so right.

“Did you guys see that?! Did you see it?!” She turned towards them, eyes glinting in excitement and glee.

“I think I went blind,” Warren babbled, on his hands and knees with his bags scattered around him.

Bobby wasn’t any better, all sprawled out on the asphalt, tummy up and taking deep breaths. “Where am I? Am I dead? Is this hell?”

“That was fucking insane! Everyone was moving so slowly! Everything was frozen, and when I moved, it felt like floating! It was so freaking cool! I don’t know how, but- Ow!” She began to explain, hands moving around in exaggerated and fast movements and gestures, until she winced out loud due to a sharp pain in her right hand.

Her palm felt like burning. A cold type of burn. It was cold to the touch, the skin was numb and a bit red. Some flakes of frost began to melt down her hand, making her shiver from the freezing sensation.

Warren had gotten up from the floor, stumbling a bit with his long legs before reaching her, taking her hand carefully and looking at the skin with a frown. Bobby had sat up, looking at her with wide eyes, concern, fear, and confusion on his face as he held his right arm close to his chest.

His arm was blue.

Ice cold blue.

It looked like it was made of glass. Of Ice. Transparent around the edge and deep, cold blue in the center.

That had been the arm that she had grabbed.

“It’s an ice burn,” Warren muttered, disbelief written all over his face, looking between Bobby and her. “But it’s speedrunning through the healing-”

“Are you okay, Bobby?” She asked, taking her hand back from Warren and stepping towards Bobby, who looked spooked and on the verge of tears.

He gasped shakily, not being able to choose between shaking his head or nodding. His shoulders were trembling as he got up from the floor, stumbling a bit and flinching when she grabbed him by the shoulders to help him settle.

“...you’re not afraid?” He stuttered, eyes not moving from her hands, still remaining on his shoulders.

Maximoff frowned, shaking her head while Warren came closer to them, looking around to make sure nobody was watching them.

“Why should I?”

“I hurt you.” Bobby took a shaky breath.

“You didn’t mean it. It was an accident.” She said, reassuring him softly, fingers gently grasping his cold arm. It had changed back to his normal pink skin, still cold but not like before.

Bobby just looked at her before nodding slowly, gulping down some saliva. They stayed like that for a while, until Warren rattled their scattered bags while picking them up, gathering their attention. “We gotta move. The paparazzi are still around, and they’ll love getting their hands on this news material.” He gestured to the three of them.

Somewhere back on the mall, a complaining mob of paparazzi was questioning how they could have lost view of the kids for just a few seconds, get tangled on a bunch of fabrics, and slipped on a random patch of ice.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

Patrol night did not go so well Dick Grayson.

He had gone to Bludhaven earlier in the week, having to commit to his day job despite the current family crisis happening back at the manor. If it were for him, he would have stayed in Gotham and spent more time around his little sister, had some heart-to-heart talk with her, made sure those boys bothering her remained far away, and everything would go back to normal.

But reality had to strike him and make him go do his work back at home.

Hours upon hours, paperwork after paperwork. Days dragged on and on, boring him and making him lose his nerve more than once around his coworkers back at the police station.

Why should he be around these idiots when he had a bigger issue going on?

He was very tempted to turn in a small leave. Just for a few days. He was confident that in just a few days would be enough to solve the issue.

Nothing beats a good quality time with his precious sister, so she would let down her guard and confess that all she needed was her favorite brother to give her some care and attention. Beg him to take her away from those mean boys and that dreadful school with even more dreadful teachers.

And he had gotten that leave! Two beautiful, long weeks back in Gotham sounded heavenly to him.

If it weren’t for Bruce dragging him back on patrol because ‘crime never takes a break’.

And God, was last night’s patrol just awful.

The comms were failing, pure static was heard, along with the channels getting switched around every five minutes. He tripped so many times on bare air or sudden wet patches on the rails and edges of buildings. Not to mention the absence of the two younger vigilantes of the clan, who apparently were off that night by their own volition and command, if Bruce’s scowl was enough of an answer. And lastly, Jason finally decided to make an appearance the moment Dick fell flat on his back from a firescape.

He still felt sore, no matter how much ointment Alfred passed over his back before he fell dead asleep in his bed.

The deep tiredness in his bones didn’t let him get up from his bed until the afternoon of the next day came around. Sleeping right through Barb’s calls and texts without a care in the world.

His sight was blurry, still heavy with sleep, slipping closed, and unaware of his surroundings. The silk sheets cool against his skin and limbs. The soft cushion of his pillow made it harder to lift his head and finally get up from the bed. The cold drops of water, hitting his forehead every once in a while-

‘…Drops of water?’ His mind supplied quietly.

A quiet moment passed by until he felt another drop hit his skin, sliding down his temple and sinking into his dark hair.

Then another.

And another.

And three more followed, one after another.

Dick tried to move his head away from it, but for some reason, his head remained on the same position.

More drops fell over him.

Starting to get annoyed, Dick tried to lift his hand to wipe away the water just to find out he also couldn’t move it. With a knot in his stomach, he tried to move his other hand, but the result was the same as before. It felt like they were pinned to the bed by weights.

The next drops dragged out grunts and whimpers out of his throat, a pressure on his jaw similar to the grip of long fingers keeping him shut.

His body felt so heavy, it was suffocating. As if boulders kept his lungs trapped under their weight. His legs and arms were constricted by cold hands with sharp nails that scraped against his skin and gave him a very unpleasant sensation, breaking shivers and goosebumps all over his body.

‘Get off Get off Get off Get off Get oFF GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF-’

As if his thoughts were heard, an ear-piercing shriek that seemed to resemble a butchered laugh got him snapping open his eyes.

Hanging upside down from his headboard, a shadowed figure hovered over him. It’s pale, wet hand gripped his jaw closed, nails digging into his cheeks. Long, drenched, black hair covered its face, the tresses making him yelp as they made contact with his skin and soaked his sheets.

It tilted its head to the side, showing a gaping head wound dripping with deep red blood and a grey eye that stared deeply into his own eyes. The blood continued to drop down it’s face, falling off and staining Dick.

Falling right into his forehead.

It crept closer, the air cold and dead around it while Dick felt tears going down his cheeks. His chest was about to burst in fear, his body drenched in his own cold sweat.

“I thought you liked physical contact, Dick.” It whispered with a horrifying skin-splitting grin right in his face.

Then, the door of his room slammed open. 

In the blink of an eye, it was gone.

“Grayson, we need you downstairs right now,” Damian ordered, his frown deepening as he watched the pale man lying on the bed.

 Dick sat up quickly, feeling nauseous and head pounding along with his heart beat. He began to pat around the bed, his other hand going over his face as he looked around for it.

All that he found was dry sheets and sweat on his skin. 

No blood. 

No water. 

No it.

“Get dressed, Drake and I require your thoughts on an important subject.” With that, the boy closed the door and went down the hall.

Dick put a hand against his chest, panting as he stood up in shaky legs and stumbled towards his bathroom to throw up all the contents in his stomach down the toilet.

Dark hair disappeared behind the door of his closet.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“Down the hall, take a left. Room 374. There’s supposed to be a guard outside the door.” A bored nurse said while handing the girl a lanyard that said ‘Visitor’ in bold, dark letters.

Bobby and Warren sat in the waiting area, both dozing off from tiredness after their earlier escapade, and still unsure of how to address the whole success that had happened at the parking lot.

She nodded and began walking down the long white halls of the Psych Ward of Gotham’s General Hospital. It smelled of disinfectant, sterile and cleaning chemicals, making her try not to take big breaths through her nose so her eyes wouldn’t water from the strong smell. 

Bobby had been quiet the whole drive, no matter how much she tried to reassure him that she was fine. Her hand had healed in record time, too! She had shown it to the two of them, but Warren stressed that it wasn’t about that at all.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“I don’t get it! I am fine!”

“It’s more than that! You have a mutation! And it awakened in public! Do you know how much trouble that could bring to you?!”

Bobby took a deep breath, driving his truck and muttering to himself while focusing on the road. Maximoff turned to look at Warren, with visible confusion in her expression.

“What mutation? What is that?”

The truck screeched to a stop, rattling everyone inside and making them scream and hold onto something. 

Bobby whipped his head towards her, a dry gulp echoing from her throat at the serious expression on his face. He took a deep breath, fingers gripping the wheel before letting go of it, leaving traces of frost where his hands used to be.

“I am your friend,” he began to say. “And we haven’t known each other for long, so I don’t expect you to tell me everything about you the same way I haven’t told you everything about me.”

He waited until she nodded slowly back at him to continue.

“And I know you’re hiding something. Something big, and I won’t push you to say it until you’re ready to do so.”

Warren bit his tongue, switching looks between the other two as she sank into her seat with an uncomfortable expression. Bobby then gave a heavy sigh, his hand going through his hair.

“But not knowing what a mutation is? I’m sorry, but I know for a fact that we have discussed it in class months ago. So I will ask you for only this time to explain to me what is going on.”

The silence reigned over the three of them. The boys patiently waited for her to respond, noticing her shaking leg and wide stare, fingers rubbing harshly on the cuffs of her jacket as she took a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

“...I’m not even sure you guys will believe me.”

Warren came up closer, right behind Bobby’s seat, so he could stare at her directly. “Try us.”

She looked at them, lip trembling and shoulders tense.

“I’m still looking for answers. I’m not even sure if I’ll get them. That’s why I’m going to visit Bianca.”

Bobby furrowed his eyebrows. “You mean your mom?”

She shook her head, wrangling her fingers as they began to sweat. “Not my mom. She is someone else’s. She can help me out.”

“So, if we get you to Bianca, you’ll explain what is happening?” Warren asked, voice softer than expected.

“If she gives me the answers that I need, then yes.”

Bobby started up the car once again and drove without another word.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

She was so excited to explain the brain-numbing story of what she had been dragged into.

(She wasn’t)

Maximoff was filled with so many thoughts. It was meant to be a relaxing day! A normal hangout! Disconnect from the reality of her situation and enjoy life a little before heading right into finding answers and get the hell out of Gotham and find Billy, for fuck’s sake-

“Room 374, Miss?” A deep, gruff voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Looks like she reached the room without noticing. That was fast.

Maximoff nodded at the guard, showing her visitor tag and taking a step back as he indicated to do so. He began to put in a digital code on a lock by the door, the thing beeping loudly twice before a hissing mechanical sound echoed down the hall and opened the door.

“Knock three times to get out. You got twenty minutes.”

That was a weird warning, but she still walked inside the room. 

There was a small window that barely let any natural light in, the sun starting to set to give start to the evening and extending the shadows of the trees outside into the floor of the room. A small light bulb on the wall, just above a small and messy bed, made her eyes hurt from the artificial lighting. Her gaze wandered around, taking notice of books scattered around the floor, with pages ripped off and lying all over the place. Odd markings, some scratched on the walls and others made with a black marker, surrounded the whole room.

Kneeling on the floor with her back turned, as she mumbled to herself, a woman in grey scrubs.

‘Yeah, I’m out,’ She thought, about to take a step back and walk out.

But the door closed right behind her, the metallic hiss making her almost tear up on the spot.

“I expected you to drop by sooner.”

A melodic voice said, the woman getting up from the ground and patting her clothes down with a sigh. Long loose curls going down her back, turning around to face the frozen girl by the door.

Before Maximoff, a thin and beautiful woman stood before her. Tall, bronzed skin, a mole on the corner of her left eye, and deep brown eyes that held dark eye bags beneath them.

Wayne’s Mother. Bianca.

She could see all the resemblances between them, with the exception of the height. Since Bianca easily towered over her by two heads. Hell, she was probably around the same height as Bruce.

“Come closer,” Bianca demanded, eyes stuck on the young girl as she took a few steps forward.

Maximoff tried not to step on the symbols on the floor, not wanting to piss off the woman that did not seem in right space of mind.

When she stood a few feet in front of her, Bianca began to walk around her in circles, Gaze calculating and unshakeable, as if Maximoff was some type of fascinating artifact that appeared in front of her.

Long fingers touched her hair, Bianca humming with a frown. She suddenly leaned forward, getting right in the girl’s face and making her flinch out of reflex. The woman stared at her face, taking in her eyes, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, and her lips.

“...Fascinating. You have the same face, but it’s so much different now.” She muttered, eyes softening suddenly around the edges.

Bianca’s hands cradled her cheeks, cold fingers tracing the features with gentleness and delicacy. A sharp breath intake and her eyes watering, the more she continued to look at her.

“Was it painful for her? For you?”

Maximoff made the decision to lie to the woman.

She shook her head, a tear slipping down both of their cheeks.

Bianca took a moment to hold her for a bit longer, letting her hands slip down slowly. Maximoff wiped away her tears quickly, clearing her throat as she scratched the back of her neck with a rough sigh.

“We need your help,” she said. “ We are looking for-”

“You’re looking for Rio’s vessels.”

The woman sat down on her bed, fingers going through her hair and making the curls bounce around with a weird smile on her lips. “She is making you get them to fulfill the deal I made with her, right?”

Maximoff was caught off guard, nodding slowly with a shrug. “Kind of. More like she wants to make the Waynes miserable and gets her precious retribution… or whatever a mafia boss wants, I guess?”

“Rio as a mafia boss? Mother, you’re cute,” Bianca chuckled. “You've got no idea of who is pulling all the strings, are you?”

“I don’t care as long as I can go to my real family.” Maximoff declared, lips thinning.

“It doesn’t work like that, Maximoff.” The woman drawled, crossing her legs as the girl bit her tongue.

How did she know her last name?

“You need the bigger picture to understand what you are getting into, so sit down and listen.”

Since she did not have any other choice, Maximoff sat down on the floor with a grumble and crisscrossed her legs with a frown. Bianca ignored her attitude, moving her feet in circles as she leaned back a bit.

“What exactly do you know about witches?”

“Like Harry Potter?”

Bianca sighed and shook her head, “No, but we don’t have the time to explain all of that. So, let’s summarize a-”

“I was joking! Your daughter gave me the gist of it already!” She quickly butted in, getting a glare from Bianca in return.

“Fine, then,” Bianca rolled her eyes. “Anyway, sixteen years ago, I made a deal with death.”

Before Maximoff could interrupt once again, Bianca gave her a pointed stare that made her shut her mouth closed. With that done, she continued.

“I was expecting.” A nostalgic glint in her eyes. “Twins, actually. A boy and a girl.”

This time, Maximof stayed silent.

“My family had been through a rough path at that time. My parents were no longer with me, and my twin brother had also gone into a life of crime.” She let out a sarcastic, short laugh. “He used to be a lawyer, and I would always say that this city would drag him down with it… and I was right.”

“I was alone, well established in my career as a singer in the opera. And money wasn’t a problem either, my folks left me a good sum, and my brother took care of me from afar. What I lacked was security.”

Bianca uncrossed her legs and leaned forward with a tired expression. “I didn’t want Bruce to know about the pregnancy; he had his problems, and I didn’t want anything to do with his name. The Wayne name is a cursed name.”

Maximoff took note of that last part. Something to look up later.

“So, I summoned Death with a deal. The safety of my children, and she would get her own apprentices.”

Bianca rubbed her eyes with a groan. “That didn’t work out, since one of the twins didn’t make it. He was stillborn. I cremated him.”

“But she survived, that’s like half the deal, right?” Maximoff stuttered, mind reeling with the fact that Rio was apparently Death? How does that even make sense?

Then again, she was not exactly normal either, and she also had a ghost companion, so she should really stop questioning stuff when her day-to-day life was straight out of Casper, the friendly ghost, if it were a teen drama.

“Almost,” Bianca muttered. “In exchange, she gave some vessels to guard while I taught my daughter the basis of witchcraft so she could become Death’s apprentice. And that also did not work out.”

“Why?”

“Because I tried to break the deal.”

“Oh.”

Bianca got up with a chuckle, a weird look in her eyes as she walked around the room. “And Death did not like it one bit. She cursed me, drove me insane, insane enough to make them lock me away in here!”

She began to yell, a maniacal grin on her lips. Maximoff got up from the floor, stepping far away from the woman until her back met the wall.

“You got what you wanted, Rio! You got it!” She screamed out, banging on the walls with cries and yells and claims.

It continued for a bit, scaring Maximoff shitless as she moved towards a corner, dragging herself to the side of the wall as Bianca dropped down to her knees with sobs and laughs. Hugging herself as her nails scratched at the material of her clothes.

“My baby, my baby,” she sobbed. “She was never meant to be for the Wayne name. She was mine, all mine.”

Bianca snapped her neck toward the pale girl, still gripping the wall with shaky legs and trembling fingers. The woman let out a cracking sob, face stained with tears.

“I was never going to be able to see her grow. Not like she was meant to be. Not with my last name. Not with me.”

“But,” she shuddered, “If it was not going to be me, it would be with family. My family.”

In the back of her head, despite the scary situation at hand, Maximoff connected a big, important dot in this whole conversation. 

Wayne was never supposed to go with Bruce Wayne. 

She was supposed to go with her uncle. 

“I signed it. I know I did.” Bianca muttered. “It took a while for me to sign it, but I gave it to Harvey, I know I did! He knew I didn’t want my baby with him, but she was still there and she wasn’t meant to be there-”

What happened next was straight out of a horror movie.

Bianca’s eyes rolled back into her skull, showing only the white part of it. She threw her body back in an abnormal arch as the light bulb began to flicker as if it were a throbbing light. Groaning and moaning words that were either in another tongue or completely gibberish.

She suddenly stood up on her feet, standing on the tip of her toes as she pointed a finger at the screaming girl, following her as she scattered to the door and tried to force it open with her body weight.

Bianca’s head snapped forward, looking directly at her despite the lack of pupils.

“Wheel of fortune,” her voice sounded distorted. “Find the ashes of The Moon beneath the Four of Wands, get The Sun its Hierophant, and reunite with the Reversed Tower.”

‘Oh, fuck this and everything else. Get her out of here!”

With the three bangs against the door, Bianca dropped to the floor as if a puppet whose strings had been cut, groaning and whimpering while the light stopped flickering. Maximoff could hear people yelling outside, recognizing Bobby and Warren’s voices, which made her cling to the door with desperation.

The sudden hand on her shoulder made her scream and jump to look at a completely normal-looking Bianca, despite the scowl on her face.

“Stop yelling,” she growled. Maximoff, feeling a bit dizzy from the whole ordeal, shut up.

Bianca took out a piece of paper from her back (how the fuc-), and shoved it in the girl’s hand, closing it in a tight fist. “I had it written down before you came in. Follow it to the letter and don’t skip any steps.”

Maximoff nodded with a weird sound, feeling lightheaded as the door behind her hissed open.

Before she got dragged out by the guards, Bianca whispered to her an important name with a request.

“Harvey Dent. Find him. Find him and he will make sure the Waynes never interfere with you ever again.”

Find Harvey Dent, huh?

That should be easy, right?

Right?!

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's note: I lied, this became over 9,900 words lol. Hope you all enjoy this bc chapter's will not be this long again, I just got really inspired for this chapter and couldn't stop writting. Started summer class last week so hopefully I'll survive. Many things happened and I can't wait to see what are everyone's comments and thoughts! Remember to follow the asks rules and to be respectful!! Lots of love and hugs, GG✨

Tag List:

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Bonus Memes:

[friskalicousbiscuits]

Neglected The Mask!reader x platonic Yan!Batfam

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you” and when they are referred to by other people, its “they” so… Yeah! Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense.

Chapter One

The night you’d found the mask, had been a cold one. A bitter one. It was just an all around crappy-feelings-fest of a night.

You’d left home. The pressure in that house was too suffocating for you to stay in it any longer. The walls were too high, your room felt too isolated, the floors were too clean, the windows were being pelted by rain, and the sound of said rain felt like jackhammers in your skull. But worst of all? Damian was hogging the TV so you couldn’t watch the adult swim old cartoon reruns.

So you left.

It wasn’t like it was hard. No one was really home besides you, Alfred, and Damian so no one stopped you. Well, besides Ace. The dog padded over to you as you were about to leave. You gave him a few pats and told him you’d be back in a couple hours.

That was how you were here now. On Gotham’s Harbor, sat at the end of one of its shabby wooden piers, listening to the calming sound of harsh waves slamming into boats. You didn’t really mean to come here. You’d just picked a direction that seemed to draw you in and soon, you were leading (or were you being led?) yourself to the harbor. It was still raining. You were soaked head to toe and were sure to have a fever by tomorrow.

You found yourself not minding that fact.

Your eyes drifted to the few boats docked at the other piers. Barnacle-bottomed with chipped paint was the standard look for most of them. They looked worn, and if boats could have feelings, you’d guess they were probably tired.

You were tired too.

You were always tired. Since you were about fifteen, you’ve been in a bunch of clubs and stuff. It was exhausting, but you also didn’t want to go back to the manor, a place you don’t feel welcomed, immediately after school. Damian being there, while still scary, is something you could deal with.

But Jason?

The man pops in unannounced and randomly. Just the thought of him potentially being there makes you stay away from the manor extra late. You don’t ever want to be near him again. Not after that night. Not after he almost killed you. And speaking of the man, he was there. He’d been forced into staying for a family dinner. Something you wanted no part as long as he was there.

You pulled out your phone to check the time. The light nearly blinded you. You hunched over it so the harsh rain wouldn’t pelt it too.

9:37pm

Said family dinner should be in progress right about now. And would you look at that? Not a single call or text massage. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. It almost made you want to chuck your phone into the water, but… well, it’s your phone and it has all your doggy pictures of Ace in cute outfits. You couldn’t bear to part with it.

Instead, you turned it off, shoved it back into your pocket, and went back to staring at the waves.

Y’know, if you ignored the hammering rain and the fact these waves could topple a grown man, this was almost peaceful!

Your eyes drifted down to now watching the murky water as it swooshed and splashed back and forth. You were praying no bigger waves came. Gotham’s water was practically radioactive. You don’t want aids from getting Gotham water on you. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket after all.

You brought your knees closer to your chest and hugged them tighter. You definitely should’ve. You’re not only soaked but extremely cold from all the wind sweeping around. Any gust felt like getting freezer burn, and you weren’t a long forgotten package of peas at the bottom of a freezer.

You should probably go home n—

What is that?

You squinted at the murky water. It’s dirtiness, plus all the motion from the waves was making it hard to tell but… was something glowing underneath the water?

James Gordon - Police Commissioner POV

Jim was not having a good night. The Joker had broken out of Arkham again. And was wreaking havoc again. Currently, Jim and other officers were crouched behind their vehicles and using them as cover to shoot at the bastards. Not only that, but it was raining cats and dogs all of a sudden. The storm had come out of nowhere in the middle of the shootout!

And to think the day had started off well too. Barbara had come to visit and even brought Jim those donuts he liked. Not only had he had to leave his donut at the precinct, which would probably be stolen by that food thief who thinks he’s slick, but now he was in a shootout!

To recap the situation, Joker had gathered his goons in Old Gotham to rob and steal like the no good crooks they are. As for any civilians caught outside and nearby? Well, not only were they robbed, but they were also held down and forcibly injected with a new strand of Joker Venom.

And… while all that was horrible, it also didn’t make sense. Joker doesn’t really do daylight robberies like this. If he’d needed money, he’d simply kidnap a class of school children and sell them off. So why would he do all of this?

Jim got his answer in the form of the formerly spasming victims of Joker Venom suddenly getting up to join the chaos. As usual, hair was tinged green, skin was bleached, and smiles were stretched from one ear to the other. But this was different. The Joker would point to a shop and they’d all follow. To a person and they’d run to tackle. To anything and they’d respond with tearing at it like piranhas and running to their leader to give him their spoils.

Are you fucking kidding him right now?

The Joker has finally gotten around to using mind control?

You might as well fuck Jim in the ass.

The commissioner paused his shooting at goons and henchmen and grabbed the walkie-talkie attached to his coat. He needed to radio the precinct and have them turn it on.

He needed the Bat-Signal.

It was dark out, so it should reflect on the sky, but the bats normally came out after eleven. He’d just have to hope one of them would see.

You continued staring at the water. The rain started falling harder unbeknownst to you. Your shoulders and back were both numb from the constant harshness of the rain and cold. The rain falling harder made the water rougher and stronger, waves slamming into the docks and piers with more force.

The glowing was getting brighter and brighter. So much so that you felt it start to illuminate your face. A flash of something green tore through your mind as a bolt of lighting could be heard nearby. A shadow slowly rose over you.

You slowly looked up.

Uh oh.

A gigantic wave was looming over you. Your eyes widened.

You really couldn’t catch a break, could you?

It slammed into you with what was probably the force of a bull. It shattered the shabby wooden pier you’d been sitting on. And when it started to recede, it dragged you under the water.

Oh God! AIDS water!

You struggled desperately as the water tugged and shoved you around like a ragdoll. Everytime you would just barely break the surface and get the tiniest gulp of air, another wave would come and slam you back down.

Was it your imagination, or were the waves getting stronger and stronger?

Another wave slammed into you and shoved your head back under the water. You felt your brain rattle from the force as it sent you deeper in the water. You had neither the chance to close your eyes nor mouth. You tried not to think about the fact you’d swallowed a little bit of it.

It burned your throat on the way down.

You didn’t think you’d be able to see anything underwater. Like you’d said multiple times, it was murky. Yet, below you could see the glowing object from before. It was still a blob due to the fact you were underwater but you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to it. Something was compelling you to.

Another harsh wave wracked the surface above, pushing you forward slightly towards the object. Then, it pulled you back when it receded. For some reason, you needed to see this object. You needed it. You needed to touch it. Hold it.

Put it on.

What? Put on what? The blob?

Your hand closed around a part of the blob. It seemed that despite your blurry vision, the blob, wasn’t in fact a blob. It felt wooden and thin. You hands turned it around as you moved it closer to face so you could just get a better look. Thats all.

If you tried really hard, you could ignore the—

Put it on.

Put it on.

Put it on.

—that keeps repeating in your head.

You brought it closer and closer. The shimmer that you once thought was green was now purplish on the side you’d turned the blob over to see. When it got close enough, you felt your skin start to pull itself towards the blob— the mask, now that you could see the eye and mouth holes better. At the sensation of the pulling, you tried to pull away but it was too strong.

It stuck itself to your face as you clawed at it, thrashing and struggling. Water left your lungs in a panic. You could feel it closing around your head, sinking into your skin, merging with your face. You began to spin, underneath the water, still desperately clawing.

From there, you blacked out.

James Gordon - Police Commissioner POV

Jim and the other officers were still in a shootout. Now though, the Joker had taken out a couple cars, and by extension people, with some rocket launchers he’d gotten when more of his goons came to help.

A shot whizzed past Jim’s head and took out one of his rearview mirrors. He peaked around his car once more and fired his gun a couple more times until he ran out of ammo before ducking behind his cover once more.

Shit, where are the bats?

He peaked around the car again, but ducked again when he heard a… “what in the world?” …from a female officer next to him. He looked to her and saw that she was looking up. When he also looked up, he saw a spinning something soaring through the sky.

What in the world indeed.

From what Jim could make out, it was green and white and had hints of either pink or red from what he could see. He and the officer next to him watched as it continued to spin through the air. It was about to land in the middle of the shootout. Just what was it? Something from the bats? No, they don’t use color, it must’ve been something from the Joker.

“Shit.” Jim cursed under his breath.

It eventually landed with a loud crash, body sticking up out of the ground, stiff as a board. Its head was buried into the road as its arms stood stiff at its side, seemingly unaffected by gravity. It showed no signs of struggle.

Was it knocked out? Dead? If it was from the Joker, Jim prayed it was dead.

The two sides ceased their shooting to stare at the person(?) sticking out of the ground still. Now that it wasn’t spinning nor high up in the air, Jim got a better look at it. It was wearing a white, three piece suit with a red polkadot pattern consistent on every single scrap of fabric the…

Gentleman? Gentlewoman? Gentleperson?

…it was hard to tell, wore. Though, Jim could just barely make out that their tie was black.

It suddenly fell over. It didn’t move for a minute longer until it suddenly shot up straight to it feet. It had a wide grin similar to the Joker’s as it adjusted its lapels. “It’s good to be back!” They exclaimed as it whirled around taking in the sights. When Jim blinked they were in a full tourist outfit. Flamingo printed shirt, khaki shorts, and a camera around its neck, taking pictures of everything. They even snapped a couple of the Joker, who it’d conveniently landed next to, saying, “Glad to know jesters are still around!”

Jim blinked again and they were back in the polkadots. They were also shaking hands with the Joker. Holy Cow, that person is tall! They were good head over the Joker and even then the Joker pretty tall himself. “Pleased to meet you, good sir. Could you direct me to the nearest bank? I’m running a little low on cash.”

Their grins were uncannily similar.

“Sorry to say, but I’ve already plundered all the nearby banks, my colorful friend.” The Joker’s eyes narrowed despite the grin. Judging by the man’s tone, he was annoyed by something.

But what is the question?

“Oh, that’s a shame.” The green-masked person sighed, hunching in on themself. They then grabbed the Joker and started dancing with him. Full blown tango. The unexpectedness seemed to make the Joker laugh and the man joined in. They danced around, Joker going back to shooting any of Jim’s colleagues that had let their guard down and stood up to watch the scene fully. Any bullets aimed back at them were swiftly tango-ed away from or crushed against the green-faced one. It seemed they were bulletproof.

The shoot out picked up from there. Soon, goons and officers were taken out one by one until only few were remaining. By then, the dancing slowed to a stop.

The Joker held a hand up, signaling for his boys to stop. The officers also stopped their fire too, taking the chance to go back to crouching behind their vehicles.

“Y’know, I must say, it’s been a very long time since I’ve run into a kindred spirit.” The Joker said, though his tone came off rather snarky.

The polka-dotted person actually laughed in the Joker’s face. “I hardly think we’re kindred.” They sounded smug, then again, from the very moment they started talking they’d sound smug.

“You don’t? Then there’s only room for one person with a twisted grin!” The clown said as he pulled out his revolver and aligned it with the polka-dotted individual’s mouth. “Besides, I should really knock your teeth in for stealing my gimmick!”

“Oh, how I agree!” The green-faced person’s jovial tone turned harsher and rougher. It had the same speech habit as the Joker. That same silliness until taking a darker tone.

Don’t tell Jim this is another Joker.

The Joker fired and the shot rang true, shooting them in the teeth. Everyone watched how instead of blood starting to spurt from both their mouth and the back of their neck, instead a perfectly shaped hole lied in the center of their pearly whites. The green-faced person then threw their head back and loud gulp followed, along with their neck having an oddly bullet shaped thing go down.

“Now then! Back to our dance!” They didn’t go back to that strange tango from before, instead everyone watched as they spun the Joker. And kept spinning him. Again. And again. And again.

Until the Joker caught on fire.

The green masked individual then let the clown go and keep spinning on his own, still flaming. “Somebody stop me!”

Was that provocation?!

Everyone watched as it— because it had long shown that it wasn’t a they— it couldn’t be human— pulled a massive mallet out of its pocket. “Batter up, boys!” A pocket that was way too small mind you.

Also, batter up?

It seemed to grow annoyed when no one moved. “I said, BATTER UP!” Every officer and henchman watched in awe as its head enlarged so it could yell at them before it shrunk back to normal size and got to waving its mallet around like a bat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim watched the officer next to him as she did a double take at something she saw and starting running towards it. Jim followed her sight and… about a couple meters away was a police van with many, many signs around it, mostly arrows lit up by fluorescent lights and connected to no visible power source. The officer Jim saw rush over, and another officer, wrenched open the van doors.

When Jim whipped his head back to the green faced feller, The Joker was still spinning and it had reared back the hammer and swung. The clown went flying, the speed suffocating the flames, straight into the van. The two officers quickly shut it just before the sound of a sickening slam from the Joker smacking into van’s wall could be heard.

“Scoreeeeee!” It drew out the word. Jim blinked and it was suddenly in full sports fan regalia with a jersey, styrofoam hand, and beer hat, jumping around like it was at a national game. When Jim caught the back of its jersey it read: Mask.

Could it be associated with Black Mask then?

Jim blinked again and it was back in its original suit and it was walking towards Jim.

“Ah! Jim, good to meet the extended family!” It shook Jim’s hand from where the commissioner was still squatted down, literally lifting Jim off the ground as it happened.

“Excuse me? Family? What are yo—” Jim was cut off by it giving him a “ta-ta!” It then dropped him and literally spun off. It reminded Jim of the Tasmanian devil from Loony Toons.

Who— no. What in the world was that?

A new rogue?

Timothy Drake - Red Robin POV

When Tim woke up that next morning, he was exhausted to say the least. He didn’t get to finish dinner before the bat signal went off. Then, when they finally got to the scene of the crime, the Joker had already been detained, but now there was a new rogue of all things on the loose!

Tim and his family had spent the entirety of the night chasing after this person! They’d barely caught a glimpse of them too! The family was always either one step behind or too slow, and by the time they blinked, they were gone. Then, the family would be running across the city to the next sighting of the villain.

So, when he got up that morning, all he wanted was his morning coffee, but guess what? The mug usually placed on the coaster next to him on the desk he fell asleep at wasn’t there.

(You weren’t there to make it.)

His weighted blanket wasn’t draped over his shoulders either. He’d noticed when he tried to pull it around him when he felt the chill of Alfred opening his door to check on him.

(You weren’t there to drape it over him.)

Also, speaking of Alfred, he was the one who woke him up today instead of you. Alfred also made sure Tim actually got up instead of your leaving him alone immediately after, because you knew he would get up after another five minutes.

All in all, it was a shitty night and a shitty morning.

When Tim went down for breakfast later, the coffee wasn’t in the pot either. Actually, there wasn’t even a pot. When he asked Alfred, he told him that you swept through the kitchen looking like a zombie, made yourself the coffee and took the entire pot with you.

He is so making you pay him back!

[tsaheylutales]

You weren't supposed to know | Chapter 1

Hello! This is my first Steve Harrington fic EVER so please be kind. There will be a part 2, i just got impatient and wanted to post something. She's an angsty girl, hope you like it! It’s basically a rewrite of season 4 episode 2.

Pairing: Steve Harrrington X Henderson!Reader

Warnings: ANGST, stranger things level threats, mentions of blood and knives, reader is a softer girl so if you don't like that, scroll, Steve and Dustin are very ooc so...keep that in mind. Let me know if there's any more!

Summary: Steve wasn’t always like this, he used to be kind, and caring, and he used to call you every night. But now? He barely calls at all. Most of the time it’s you calling him. Or you visiting him…Or you planning dates…He’s just really busy at the moment…That’s it. That’s gotta be it…Right?

about 2k words

You weren’t supposed to know about the Upside Down. Or the Mind Flayer. Or Eleven. Or interdimensional monsters made of blood and flesh. You were just supposed to drop Dustin off at the mall. That was it. Easy. In and out. But Steve’s your boyfriend. And you hadn’t seen or heard from him in days. So…why not surprise him?

Worst case, he’s dodging you. Best case, you kiss in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy and steal an ice cream on the way out. That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

Instead, you and Robin ended up decoding a secret Russian message, discovered a secret Russian base underneath Starcourt Mall, got captured, maybe drugged, tortured a little, and were eventually saved by two kids with an electrified stick.

And then, just when you thought your night couldn’t possibly get any worse, a walking nightmare made out of flesh and bones clawed its way through the mall like it had personal vengeance. Turns out it did but that's besides the point.

Your entire life flipped upside down. 

And Steve, your boyfriend…He had known the whole time. And so did your little brother, Dustin.

And afterwards, everyone else went back to normal, back to school, back to work. They made no mention of the horrors that happened that night. They just moved on. Like you didn’t fight The Mind Flayer. Like Hopper didn’t die in that Russian base. Like Billy didn’t die in front of you all.

You haven’t gone a single night without nightmares since. And it doesn’t help you have no one to talk to. Not anymore. 

You’re not really part of the group. You’re just there.

You’re Dustin’s older sister. You’re Steve’s girlfriend, well, sort of. On a good day, when he remembers to call. 

You joined the fight the same day Robin did. Same nightmare. Same blood-soaked floors. Same mindless terror crawling out of a gate you didn’t even know existed until it nearly swallowed you whole. But somehow…She became one of them. Fast. Seamless. Like she was always supposed to be there. And you…didn’t.

You're the one who drives them sometimes, the one who gets asked, “Hey, can you grab snacks?” before a movie night, ones you weren’t even invited to.

You hear about things after they’ve happened. “Oh, sorry, it was last minute.”  “Did we not tell you?”  “Thought you were busy.”

You’re always busy, apparently. Even when you’re not. Even when you’re waiting by the phone, waiting for someone to call. Waiting for someone to invite you to anything.

You’re not welcome. You’re unwanted.

You try not to let it show. You plaster on your smile. You nod along. You say “cool” and “no worries” and “maybe next time.” 

But it gnaws at you. That hollow, twisting feeling.

“Have you talked to anyone else?” Dustin’s voice is tight, panicked, as he and Max hurry down the hallway. They need to find Eddie, and ask him about what happened last night. What happened to Chrissy. They suspect it's something more evil, covered in slimy tentacles and sharp teeth, or a dark shadow, or maybe a towering monster made of the citizens of Hawkins.

“No. I can’t find Lucas or Nancy, and Mike’s in-”

“California. Shit, shit, shit.” He cuts her off without thinking. His brain is moving too fast, thoughts crashing into each other. Too many questions, half the party missing, half the party on the other side of the country. 

“What about your sister?” She blurts, scrunching up her face.

He sighs, a defeated, frustrated sigh. He treats you like a last resort, you are the last resort but…You know about the upside down so…guess you’ll have to do.

“[Y/n]! Can you take us to Family Video!?” he yells, sharp and impatient.

You peek your head out from your room, wide-eyed. “Right now?...”

“Yes, come on!” He rolls his eyes, tapping his watch.

“Uh, okay. Let me get my shoes-”

“Now! Come on!!”

“Okay-okay.” You whisper, shrinking back slightly.

Max glances at him. “That was harsh,” she mutters under her breath. Dustin ignores it.

Your mom calls out, “Dusty, where are you going?” 

“To see a friend.” His voice comes out stressed. Too panicked to just be ‘seeing a friend’. He’s already heading for the door.

“You heard the news. It’s not safe.” Your mom’s voice waves and it makes you feel guilt. She’s already been through enough. 

“We’ll be careful. Thanks, Mom. Love you. Bye.”

“Bye, Mom. Love you,” you murmur behind him, brushing a kiss to her forehead. 

Max and Dustin take off ahead of you, their sneakers smacking against the pavement as they storm towards the video store. Dustin throws the door open and they both rush inside.

They’re already at the front desk, knocking over stacks of tapes, looking through the computer. They set up a “base of operations,” whatever that means. You just stand there, eyes drifting across the rows of movie tapes, pretending to read the titles you’ve seen a hundred times. You feel invisible. 

You still don’t know what’s going on but, the urgency in their voices, the frantic energy? It’s terrifying. It feels like last year again. Whatever it is, it’s scary…. Fourth of July scary.

Your eyes find Steve.

He’s crouched near a toppled display, restacking the mess Dustin left behind. He doesn’t notice you at first. He doesn’t look up.

You walk over, swallowing the nerves in your throat. Your smile feels fragile, like if you hold it too long it might crack and fall.

“Hey.”

Steve looks up. His face shifts. Not into a smile, into something smaller. Tighter. “Oh. Hey…”

Your heart sinks, just slightly.

“Um…” You try to sound casual but your voice wavers. “You didn’t call. Last night…”

He blinks. Hesitates. “Right. Yeah. Sorry. Had to cover for Robin.”

A lie. You know it’s a lie. Robin was here yesterday. You came in to drop off a tape after school, about an hour before he was supposed to call. “You couldn’t have called from here?” you ask, softer this time.

“Super busy.” He mumbles. “Yeah, it was just…really busy.”

He’s not even looking at you anymore. The bell over the door rings again. A girl walks in, she’s pretty, confident, like she belongs. Steve glances at her, not you.

You bite your lip and clear your throat softly. “I was thinking…” You start, trying to sound upbeat, like this isn’t breaking your heart. “Maybe we could go out this weekend? Dinner, or a movie? Whatever you want.”

Steve exhales. Not a sigh. Something heavier. Tired. Dismissive.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You latch onto the word like it’s a life boat. “Cool! I’m free all weekend, so we could do whatever, whenever, I mean-”

“Look,” He cuts in, voice clipped and distant. “I’ve got a lot going on this weekend. Maybe another time.”

Oh.

Your smile falls before you can stop it, not dramatically, just…falls. Ever so slightly. A tiny fracture. Barely a second of vulnerability before your instincts kick in. You catch it. Forcing a grin even though your lip wobbles.

The smile that returns doesn’t fit right. It strains too much. It doesn't reach your eyes. You nod. Once. Twice.  “Yeah. Sure. Another time.”

Steve gives you a tight lipped smile and turns to your brother, who is still trying to find Eddie. You awkwardly wait by the front desk, picking at it nervously. Steve wasn’t always like this, he used to be kind, and caring, and he used to call you every night. But now? He barely calls at all. Most of the time it’s you calling him. Or you visiting him…Or you planning dates…He’s just really busy at the moment…That’s it. That’s gotta be it…Right?

“Hey,” Max says, her voice breaking your from your thoughts. You blink, startled. “We found something. Are you coming?”

You nod automatically, though the words don’t register. Your body moves before your mind catches up. 

Eddie slams Steve against the wooden wall of the cabin. It’s damp and a little rotten, that’s what happens to things left unchecked. You gasp, moving towards your boyfriend before realising he has a knife. You swallow softly and look towards Dustin, eyes begging him to do something.

“Woah, woah! Eddie, stop! Eddie, it’s me, it’s Dustin! This is Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?”

“Right. Yeah.” Your boyfriend breathes out. He gulps, eyes squeezed shut.

“Steve…” Dustin says gently. “Why don’t you drop the oar? He’s cool. He’s cool.”

“I’m cool, man. I’m cool.” Steve echoes, voice shaky and wavering.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie growls, pressing the knife closer to Steve’s neck.

“We’re looking for you!” Robin jumps in. “We’re here to help.”

“Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band? This is Max, my friend who never wants to play D&D.”

Dustin raises his hands. “We’re on your side. I swear on my mother. Right, guys?”

A chorus of, “Yes. Yes, we swear on Dustin’s mother,” echoes around the small cabin.

“Yeah. Dustin-Dustin’s mother,” Steve stammers.

Eddie pauses, and then lets him go. Steve's knees almost buckle as he falls away, and you immediately rush towards him, reaching for his face “Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe-“ You coo.

“I know-I know, god stop touching me!” He shoves you away, leaning towards Robin, who’s sat on the other side of him.

Your eyes widen, and you feel that familiar pit in your stomach. “Sorry. Sorry, I-“ You start, confused, voice wobbling.

Steve gives you a look, one that he’s been giving you a lot recently. One that says ‘You’re really getting on my nerves, please stop talking.’ 

It makes you swallow your apology, and you look down to your scuffed shoes. 

They’re a beat-up pair of converse that you bought back in sophomore year. They’ve been everywhere with you, including some very lovely dates with Steve. Like when you went to the movies, where he kissed you for the first time.  Or like the picnic, where he fed you strawberries and whispered he loved you while watching the stars.

Dates like that feel like a dream. They don’t happen anymore, haven’t in months. Not like they used to. 

For the rest of the conversation, you’re not there. Not really.

[v1x3n]

BLOOD. TEETH. GUTS! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - mentions of torture, breakdowns, violence, possible sa, argument, johnny being a dick, starving.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

The buzzing fizzes up your ears. Constant. Painful.

It's like static. Yeah. Static blocks out all other senses, the only thing you could focus on was the ringing, forever ringing that fills your head.

Then you look up at him. The guy that caused the pain - well, one of the guys - the guy who's currently standing at the fucking door to your therapist's office.

Why does HE need therapy?

Your eyes were full of shellshock, the memories of the eyes you were looking into, feral as they glared at you whilst ripping your teeth out one by one. But now they look at you, sadness overfilling the wet eyes. The corners are red, just as yours are. Just as yours will always be. Breathing slightly picks up as you stand up.

"I'm sorry, do you two know each other?" Jones starts to speak, following you with her eyes when your legs shake slightly, your movements taking you slowly to the right. Moving to the side of the sofa. "Why the f-fuck are you here." your breathing picks up vastly. Flashes of blood, teeth and guts pop into your head as you're reminded of what he did to you.

"Oh god, fuck- y/n." Johnny steps forward, closing the gap between you two as your breathing thins. Short sharp breaths you inhale and exhale. "Why the fuck are you here!" demanding an answer you didn't want. "Jones is my therapist, trust me, she helps tons." Johnny says casually. As if you two were friends, fucking friends. This wasn't casual though. You were fuming, steam almost flowing out of your ears, your face glowing red.

"What the fuck do you need therapy for?" you scoff, your eyes looking at him up and down, giving him the hackiest of looks. Eyes squinting, trying to see what he truly wanted, trying to see underneath all the lies that dared to utter from his mouth. "A lot of people go to therapy, y/n-" Jones starts but you cut her off, fury raging stronger than your natural kindness. "You. Don't. Fucking need SHIT!" Blood. Teeth. Guts.

You step forward, crashing all around you as you inhale the familiar scent of Johnny. The one you used to link to drinking together or that one time you accidently walked in on him showering and saw him using your shampoo. But now all you saw was when he would harm you. Hatred fuels through you as the scent overtakes you, a prick of tear showing at your waterline. Dripping down your angry face.

"I- bonnie-" he steps back. The tension in the room filled it, an overwhelming atmosphere all around you - you couldn't be here anymore. Your breathing picked up faster than before as everything seemed to move at 2 times speed. "Fuck off!" you barge past him, making sure to push him into the doorframe as you walk by.

Johnny grunts as he hits the wood. The hard frame probably bruised him but fuck him. You didn't care. Actually, you hoped he was hurt. You hoped he would feel the pain that you did - that he put you through. And it would take a lot more than a small push.

It was a stupid idea to follow you, wasn't it?

Tears stream down your face as you scream at him, "you fucking dickhead!!"

Blood. Teeth. Guts.

The images flash through you as his hand reaches toward you, "Y/n, I'm sorry. We made a mistake." "no fucking shit!!" swatting his hand away from you, he couldn't fucking think for a second that you would let him near you. He was lucky you touched him when you barged past him, he was lucky you were talking - well screaming - to him. He was lucky you didn't kill yourself after everything. "I told you! I fucking told y-you that it wasnt me!" sobbing out whilst shouting at him, hitting his chest with more and more anger as you continue to talk.

"Why do you need fucking therapy? Was it so hard for you when you tortured me? When you ripped my teeth out? When you CUT my fingers off?"

People around you were looking. But you didn't care, you didn't care about the stares. All you cared about was your rage. You hadn't let out much emotion since it happened, nothing but what was burning inside of you. Every person you knew told you that you needed to let it out before it started spilling. You were just letting it out. This wasn't even half your rage.

"I didn't fucking want to - and yes it was hard! You were my best friend!"

"And yet you didn't believe me?"

"how- how could I? You would've done the same thing if you got told I fucking betrayed you."

You look up at him, misery in your eyes. "I would've found more fucking information before ripping someone's teeth out!" you hiss spitefully at him, glaring at him as you do so. You were so sick of that fucking excuse, 'we had to do it', bullshit.

They didn't have to strip you, they didn't have to tie you up, they didn't have to starve you. They didn't have to be so fucking cruel about it all.

"You don't fucking understand how hard it was for me to do that."

"Excuse me, you two need to calm down" a doctor walks up to the two of you, surrounded by some other doctors, yet you ignore them. Your eyebrows rise in utter shock. "I'm sure it was really fucking hard!" You yell at him. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Drops spill down your face at a rapid speed. The doctor's eyes dart between the two of you, concern etched into his features. He takes a deep breath. "Please, you two are upsetting patients. Let's just all calm down." He suggests gently, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"'Calm down'" you mock, "Yeah! Sure! Let's just forget about fucking everything!" Your tears flow down your face as the man in front of you sighs. You step towards the man who harmed you, daring him to come closer. Your steps are like thunder as they stomp towards the man. "I'm sure you'd fucking love it!" Unable to contain your anger, you take a swing at Johnny. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Unluckily he swiftly dodged. After taking a deep ragged breath, you could hear commotion around you as the doctors rushed to you and closed in. Random hospital words that you didn't know were thrown around. You feel hands pulling you back, voices urging you to stop. Pulling you away from the situation but you wouldn't stop.

You defy, trying to push them off as you see Johnny being escorted away through glimpses of your tears. The images flash through your mind, over and over. On repeat. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Like a never-ending cycle of rage. The security guards finally intervene, separating you from the doctors. As they try to escort you out, tears stream down your reddening face as you try as hard as you can to part from their aggressive grasp. As you get more and more uncooperative, a silver cold metal shoots into your neck - instantly effective as you slump into the many guards' arms.

Johnnys eyes are wet as he is brought away, looking over at you slanted in the many guys arms/ guilt and regret evident in his weary eyes.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 8

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: lando makes an appearance in this one. abusive language used, including sexist name calling. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 3.9k words a note: here it is babies!!! the last one in this series. i know it's been different from what i usually write, but this has been so much fun. extra special thank you to @lestapiastrisgirl as usual for beta reading and holding my hand at 2am when i wake up struck by an idea hahaha <3

Aftermath - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Aftermath - Chapter 5 Aftermath - Chapter 6Aftermath - Chapter 7 Master List

madmaxx1 posted

52 likes liked by ferrarisprince16, babyleclercpriv, jadebby, and others madmaxx1 pretty pretty girl ferrarisprince16 hey! so this is insane! >>>artiebartie yeah! stop thirsting over our sister >>>madmaxx1 never babyleclercpriv <3 jadebby god you two are so cute it's gross

missleclerc posted

missleclerc surprise! some new pieces are debuting at @/nessasgallery TONIGHT. I'll be there to discuss this new direction my art is going in along with what (and who) inspired me to try such a drastic new approach to painting. I hope you'll drop by and take a look, it would be lovely to see you! maxverstappen1 does this make me your muse??? >>>charlesleclerc hey! my car is up there right next to you! that means I'm a muse too! >>>missleclerc you two are ridiculous >>>user0298 uhhhhhhhh... user1029 ferrari and red bull without a mclaren in sight. iiiiiiinteresting >>>user1100 i think this is all the breakup confirmation we need user455 oh shes in LOVE LOVE with max >>>user444 oh this is so messy. i love it. give me 12 more seasons right now.

“If we don’t leave in the next ten minutes, we’re going to be late for your own event, pretty girl.” Max tuts at you from the doorway of your bedroom but there’s no bite behind his words. 

You glance up at him from your vanity where you’re sitting doing the last bits of your makeup. He looks heartbreakingly handsome in crisp white button-down underneath a tailored navy blue sport coat and matching slacks. His hair is combed neatly to the side, gelled into submission in a way that makes you want to rake your fingers through it just to muss it up. 

“I’m nearly ready, mister bossy pants.” You shoot back before switching off the light on the vanity and standing up. 

Max rolls his eyes but takes advantage of you walking towards him, smile on your face, and blatantly ogles you. The way the navy blue lacy dress hugs every dip and curve of your frame has Max checking his watch, wondering just how late you two could be without raising suspicion. 

“Don’t get any ideas.” You giggle, wrapping your arms around Max’s waist before pitching up onto your toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You were just scolding me that we can’t be late and then you come in here looking at me like that.” 

“It’s not my fault you look like a goddamn masterpiece in that dress.” He murmurs against your neck as he drags hot, open mouthed kisses down towards your collar bone. 

The way Max talks to you now, the reverent way he looks at you like you’re a piece of art in the most normal of situations, the way he always has to be touching you even with just the tips of his fingers, it’s everything you’ve ever craved from a relationship and everything you thought you didn’t deserve. 

Two weeks have passed since that night in your studio and while Max had to be gone for half of it for a race, one that you had solidly refused to attend until the dust between you and Lando settles a little more, it’s almost as if you two have been together for years now. The way you’ve slotted yourself into his life and Max into yours is so settling, so calming that you’ve caught yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’ve caught yourself waiting for him to behave like Lando, to push you away or do something that proves that Lando was right all along. 

Max knows you’ve been waiting for it so he’s made an extra effort to prove to you that it’s never going to happen. He knows you’re still healing, still recovering from what the British driver did to you so he hasn’t pushed. He hasn’t pushed to label whatever it is you two are to each other. It doesn’t matter to either of you because if you’re both in Monaco, you’re together. Max comes down to your apartment to watch while you cook dinner or you go up to his to cuddle on the couch and spend the night. It’s been a blissfully quiet time but you can both feel that private time coming to an end. 

The comments on your post from earlier had been mostly positive but it was pretty apparent fans had put two and two together. People knew you and Max were…something. They had figured out that a breakup had taken place even if nothing had officially been announced. You knew that once you arrived to the gallery tonight, hand in hand with Max, that was all it was going to take to confirm to the public that you and Lando were over and you had moved on. 

The thought of what Lando might do after he sees the coverage of tonight, and you know there will be coverage, has anxiety sitting heavy on your shoulders. Max clocks it instantly, shaking his head. He reads you so easily now, he always has but since that night in your studio, he’s been even more in tune with you and your moods. 

“Don’t go there. It’s going to be fine. Everyone who loves you, who matters, is going to be there and we won’t let anything or anyone ruin tonight, okay?” 

You nod, attempting to tamp down the anxiety that blooms hotly in your chest. You hated how much control Lando still had over you sometimes but you were getting better, bit by bit. “Thank you.” You whisper, nuzzling into the crook of Max’s neck while inhaling the scent of his cologne. 

“I have something for you.” Max murmurs into your hair in an obvious attempt to distract you. 

You pull back, eyes sparkling up at him. “You do?” 

Distraction successful. 

Max reaches into the back pocket of his slacks and pulls out a rectangular velvet box. You blink up at him in confusion. “Max…” 

“It’s just something small to show you how proud I am of you, how wildly in love I am with you.” He says, the words skittering up your spine before settling deep in the pit of your stomach. You’ve never been loved in the way Max loves you and it’s always seemingly knocking you off your center. “Go on, open it.” He whispers, watching as you turn the velvet box over in your hands. 

The hinges on the box whisper open and you’re momentarily speechless when you see what is nestled in the black satin. A diamond tennis necklace winks up at you with dozens of brilliant cut diamonds set in what looks to be platinum, stealing the very breath from your lungs. The stone that sits nestled in the center though is what renders you completely speechless. A large emerald cut brilliant blue sapphire stone sits in the middle of the necklace, the color a perfect match to the navy blue of Max’s Formula 1 car. 

“Max.” You whisper, unable to find any other words beyond his name. 

“Do you like it?” He asks, eyes searching yours earnestly, looking for approval in your face. 

“It’s…” The words to describe the beauty of the piece sitting heavy in your hands escapes you. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, a small, involuntary gasp escaping your lips. The diamonds, so bright they seem to shimmer with the captured light, blur and swim together as tears prick at your eyes. “Max,” You manage again, your voice thick with emotion that you struggle to get a handle on. “It’s breathtaking.” 

He reaches for the necklace, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a surge of pleasure down your spine. His touch, simple as it is, is familiar but charged with a new intensity. He lifts the delicate chain, the cool metal a stark contrast against the warmth of his skin, and fastens it around your neck after you spin for him while lifting your hair out of the way. The weight of the piece settles against your skin, a physical reminder of his affection, his love for you. Love. The word echoes int he quiet space of your mind, a sound so heavy but exhilarating that it has fresh tears threatening to spill over. 

“Turn around.” He murmurs, voice husky. Max takes a step back, eyes raking over you, a slow appreciative burn in their blue depths. 

You obey, your movements a little stiff and unsure. As you turn, the sapphire catches the light, flashing a vibrant, rich blue against the pale glow of your skin. You spot your reflection in the mirror across the room just as you turn back to face Max and your breath catches again. The necklace transforms your outfit into something extraordinary. It’s not just beautiful, it’s…meaningful. It’s a symbol of his belief in you, his pride in being with you, his acceptance of you, flaws and all.

 It’s a promise, whispered against your skin. 

“It’s too much.” You whisper, the words barely audible. The sheer extravagance of the gift, the depth of the emotion behind it, is almost too overwhelming. 

Max steps closer, his hands slipping around your waist as he pulls you against his body. “It’s not too much.” He says, his voice gentle but firm. “You deserve the world, everything beautiful and bright and good. And this?” He gestures to the necklace clasped around your neck, the sapphire resting in the hollow of your throat, “This is just a small token of my love.” 

“Thank you.” You whisper, the words wholly inadequate and insufficient to describe the way your stomach is swirling with emotion but it’s all you can manage in the face of such overwhelming emotion. You reach up, your fingers tracing the cool surface of the center stone. It feels like a piece of him, a tangible representation of the connection you both share. And in that moment, surrounded by the quiet him of unspoken emotion, you know that whatever happens tonight, whatever Lando might do to ruin the night or in the future, you’re not alone. You have Max. And that, you realize, is more precious than any piece of jewelry that Max could ever give you. 

f1.gossip.news posted

f1.gossip.news in a move that shocked...absolutely no one, charles leclerc's little sister stepped out hand in hand with new flame max verstappen tonight. while her and lando never officially announced their split, we've all seen the writing on the wall. her insta post announcing her new artwork debuting tonight featuring the red bull driver was all the confirmation we needed that her and the mclaren driver are dunzoooo. what do we think, chat??? user7575 she is GLOWING! good for her. >>>user0209 seriously, i haven't seen her or max look this happy in ages. user3221 i can hear the dishes breaking in lando's apartment from here in london >>>user0202 seriously. imagine losing the championship last year AND THEN YOUR GIRL to max verstappen. WHEEEEW BOY. user1992 this is so messy. i love it.

The light from the gallery spills out onto the sidewalk, casting a golden glow out into the street that guides you and Max towards it’s doors. It doesn’t escape your notice that the last time you walked down this sidewalk at night towards Nessa’s gallery for a show of yours, you were alone and desperately sad. 

Tonight though? Tonight is completely different. Your arm is tucked securely in Max’s elbow as he walks with towards the gallery with you after dropping the car off with the valet. The necklace he’d given you that night sits securely around your throat, an outwardly sign of the budding relationship between you two. As you approach the gallery, you see your brothers waiting for you but this time, all of their significant others are also waiting for you as well. 

Charles is the first one to intercept you, catching you up in a tight hug before whispering how lovely you look tonight in your ear. You’re passed first to Arthur and finally to Lorenzo, who makes a joke about the rock around your neck. Through it all, Max sits back quietly, watching you glow under the attention of your brothers. Jade, Alexandra, and Charlotte all make a fuss over your outfit and paw at the necklace, swooning over how it practically sparkles under the gallery lights. 

When you finally make it into the gallery, there are dozens of people already there. Nessa sees you walk through the door first and pounces on you instantly. 

“My darling!” She coos, wrapping you up in her arms and squeezing you tightly. “You are shimmering with happiness.” She comments, eyes darting to where Max stands behind you, hands tucked neatly into his pockets as he talks with Charles and Arthur. “And I suppose we have that man to thank for that.” 

“Partly.” You agree, but you know it’s more than that. You feel as though you’ve been given a second chance tonight. You were so close to losing everything, to succumbing to everything that Lando had put you through over the last three years that this first night out feels like your first taste of what life should feel like. You knew you had Max to thank for a lot of that, but it also wasn’t lost on you how much you had also fought to be there for yourself. “I’ve done a lot of work on myself the last few months too.” 

Nessa nods, running a protective hand up and down your bare arms. “I know, your art has changed! It feels lighter but also there’s so much more depth to it. I’ve had several inquiries about the one of your man after Brazil.” She says, eyes alright with dollar signs. 

“Unfortunately, that one is already sold.” Max cuts in, slipping his arm around your waist before handing you a glass of red wine. 

You startle, not realizing that you had already sold a piece so early on in the night. “It is?” 

Max nods, taking a sip of his drink. “I came in yesterday afternoon while you were taking a nap and bought it.” 

Your head snaps to Nessa, looking for confirmation. “Paid twice my asking price.” She murmurs, smirk playing at her ruby red lips. Traditionally, she never sold a piece before it was debuted but Max had been persuasive and insisted on locking down the piece without you knowing before hand. 

“Max!” You hiss, bumping a shoulder into his. “I would have just given it to you if you’d asked! I was planning on doing that anyway!” 

Max shrugs, small smile on his face. “I wanted to make sure no one beat me to it. And of course I paid for it! Allow my girl to give her work away for free? Just because I’m the muse doesn’t mean I get special treatment.” 

You’re fairly certain you blush deeper a deep red than the scarlet of your brother’s Ferrari at the praise Max heaps on you. Nessa hides a knowing grin behind her own wine glass before excusing herself to go talk to a client that had just walked in. 

Max and you are left alone in the center of the room and for a moment, the silence that settles over you two is a comforting blanket. It’s not hurried or anxious, the energy between you tonight. It’s a calm, steady thrum of energy that passes easily from Max to you without having to do much more than exchange a glance or quick brush of fingertip against bare skin. You watch your family swirl around the room, each gently checking in on you in their own time as they mingle and you feel yourself relax into the vibe of the evening. 

You’re two glasses in and having a hushed conversation with Jade as Max stands beside you, backs to the door, when a sudden tension snaps through the gallery. On the opposite side of the room, the door at the front of the gallery snaps just a touch too loudly, pulling your attention in that direction. 

The figure that stands just inside the gallery sends your stomach dropping through your toes. 

“Shit.” Beside you, Max’s hand finds yours and he instinctively shifts to put himself between the rest of the gallery and yourself. 

You knew this was going to happen. You had felt it in your bones tonight as you had gotten ready. You knew that Lando would never let you have this. Knew deep down that he’d never let you fully get away from him without having the last word. If there was one thing that Lando couldn’t stand, it was being made a fool of. And you knew that showing up here tonight on Max’s arm, wearing Max’s jewels would set him off. 

You deserved what was coming. 

You try frantically to step around Max, feeling the need to absorb the fire you knew Lando was going to spew everywhere. But Max won’t allow it. Without a single glance in your direction, Max shifts his weight once again and you find yourself even further away from Lando now. Somewhere to your left, you sense Charles and Arthur step in front of you two and you’re certain Lorenzo is around somewhere. 

“Typical LeClerc behavior. Hiding behind others who are more powerful than you in order to save face. Learned from the best, didn’t you baby?” The venom in Lando’s voice sinks it’s claws into your bloodstream, threatening to drag you under. 

Around you, conversations cease instantly, all attention on the scene happening in the corner of the room. 

You weren’t going to let Lando win this though. You were done giving him the power to control you, done dodging the confrontation in an attempt to quietly end things between you. He just wasn’t getting the hint and if he was going to behave like this, then fine. You were fed up. 

Pushing through Max and Charles, you stand in front of your ex-boyfriend, head held high. “Lando, this is neither the time nor the place to do this.” Your voice is deceptively calm, not giving away a bit of the fear that trembles just below the surface. 

Lando sneers, rolling his eyes and then his gaze snags on the necklace at your throat. The navy blue stone catches the light, winking over at him with an antagonizing shimmer. He takes half a step closer and you feel Max shift again, but this time he comes to stand beside you instead of in front of you. 

“Wearing his collar already, huh?” He bites out. A chorus of gasps ripple through the gallery but you just tip your chin up higher, used to his attempts at humiliation. Lando’s gaze shifts to Max beside you and a cruel smile curls at the corner of his mouth. “Tell me, Verstappen. Does she still make that little cooing noise right before she comes? It was always the sweetest little sound, you know the one I’m talking about, right?” 

Humiliation burns through you, hot and bright as Max reaches for your hand, giving it a squeeze. Another ripple of disbelief peppers through the crowd but Max barely blinks. “You know, I’ve never heard her make that particular sound.” He pauses and Lando’s face lights up in a brilliant smile, as if he’s won. “Usually, she’s too busy screaming my name when I make her come though so she’s never been one to make quiet little sounds with me.” 

Silence. 

“I always knew you were a cheating whore.” 

A sickening crack rings out in the otherwise silent room as your brother’s fist connects squarely with Lando’s jaw. 

“Charles!” You gasp, hand flying to your throat as you watch Lando stagger back. 

Charles shakes out his hand, received to be able to move all of his fingers. He can’t imagine that call to Maranello going well if he’d had to phone about a broken hand. 

“Keep my sister’s name out of your filthy fucking mouth, you piece of trash.” Charles spits, voice a mask of sheer deathly calm.

Max steps forward, a silent demand for order radiating from the way he stands. “Enough.” His voice is unwaveringly calm as he watches Lando struggle to his feet, clutching at his left eye where a deep blue bruise is already blooming. “Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I don’t think Zak would be to happy to hear about tonight’s shenanigans or enjoy having to read the media coverage after his star driver gets arrested for harassment.” Max takes half a step towards Lando and you enjoy the way the Brit scrambles away. “If you so much as sneeze in her direction ever again, I will make it my life’s mission to see your entire life ruined, Norris.” Max is practically nose to nose with Lando now, his glare cutting down your ex-boyfriend so he appears about two inches tall. “Are. We. Clear?” 

****

Later that night, Max startles awake, unsurprised to find himself alone in your bed. He knew you were restless tonight. It had taken him nearly twice as long as it usually did for him to pull your body to release underneath him. And after, when you had tumbled head first into sleep, naked beside him, you weren’t settled like you usually were when you slept beside him. 

So no, he wasn’t surprised to find you gone and the bed long cold beside him. 

Pulling on a pair of boxers, Max wanders into your spare bedroom that’s morphed into somewhat of a second studio space. He finds you exactly where he expects you: facing away from him sitting in front of a half finished canvas. You’re bathed in a brilliant blue moonlight, wearing nothing but his white dress shirt from earlier and his necklace you still haven’t removed. 

“Come back to bed, my love.” He murmurs into the crook of your neck as you drop your head onto his, sinking into the warmth of his embrace. 

A soft sound of agreement hums in the back of your throat as you place the brush on the table beside you. Max is a touch surprised with how pliant you are, instantly following his suggestion without much fight but he also knows today took a lot out of you and the thing you sometimes craved was the ability to shut it all off. 

“I wasn’t getting much work done anyway.” You murmur, standing and leaning into his embrace even more. The room is chilly anyway and you find yourself needing Max’s touch more than anything else in that moment. 

You allow Max to tug you out the door towards your bedroom, knowing that he’s able to read you perfectly. He doesn’t rush you though. He lets you linger for a moment in the doorway, your gaze snagging lightly on the painting behind you. It’s a gorgeous landscape that you’re known for, something you haven’t been able to paint in what feels like a lifetime. The moonlight paints silver streaks across the floor, illuminating the painting that you had spent the last hour just starting at. It’s a peaceful scene, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had filled your day. A small, contented sigh escapes your lips and Max squeezes your hand just enough to pull your attention back to him. 

Once back in the bedroom, the chill of the room sends a shiver down your spine. Max, ever attentive, pulls back the covers, gesturing for you to climb in first. He watches as you curl up on your side, tucking your knees up in towards your chest. The white shirt slips off your body, revealing the delicate curve of your spine. He slides in beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. Max reaches out, his hand finding the curve of your hip and gently pulls you closer until your back is flush against his chest. He wraps an arm around your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach. 

You melt into his touch, the warmth of his body radiating through you. His breath is warm against the back of your neck and the steady rhythm of his heart is a soothing lullaby you’ve come to depend on at night. The events of earlier linger in the back of your mind, but here, in Max’s arms they start to feel a little more distant, muffled almost. He kisses the nape of your neck softly, a quiet reminder of his constant presence in your life now, how he’ll never allow you to be alone of face anything by yourself anymore. 

“Better?” He whispers, voice low and rumbling against your bare skin. 

“Mm-hmm” You hum, snuggling deeper into his embrace. You reach down and take his hand that sits on your belly, intertwining your fingers with his. The simple act of holding his hand grounds you, reminding you that you’re not alone anymore. You turn slightly in his arms, just enough to look up at him. His eyes, even in the dim light of the bedroom, are filled with tenderness and understanding. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, your voice thick with emotion. 

Max smiles, a soft, reassuring smile that makes your heart ache in the best way. “For what, liefje?” His Dutch accent is thick now, as it gets when he’s tired and emotional. 

“For everything.” You say, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “For being here. For understanding. For taking care of me.” 

He pulls you closer, his hold tighenying slightly. “Always.” He murmurs against your lips. “Always and forever, my love.” 

And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, you know that no matter what happens next, you and Max will face it together. This, right here, in his arms, is your happy ending that you’ve been chasing after your entire life. 

Tag list:

@shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164

[rori-is-writing]

While You Were Sleeping

⟪ ⟨ Ch 1: A Helping Hand ⟩ ⟫

A The Pitt Reader X Fic.

Two-Shot | Explicit | Dr. Robby x Fem!Reader | 642 words ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Summary: You and Michael discover you both really like doing things while the other is asleep. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Tags: Somnophilia, Female Reader

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

[ For @chasing-will-o-the-wisps 💙 ]

He’s hard. 

It’s your first thought upon groggily waking up at 2 am. You could feel the length of his cock stiff and hot against the curve of your spine, seeking out that slippery warmth between your thighs it loved so much. 

You roll to face him, thinking perhaps he is awake…but no. His face is still slack, eyes fluttering underneath his eyelids. Michael had always been a heavy sleeper. His shifts at work certainly lent themselves to knocking him out cold every night…which really should’ve been a sign for you to roll over and go back to sleep. 

But that’s not what you do. 

In any other circumstance, you would absolutely never touch someone without their consent. Without knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was something they wanted. Encouraged even. 

But you weren’t exactly in your right mind were you? Still caught in that cloudy dream-like space between sleep and the waking world. And in that place, things like consent and morals are murky at best. 

All you know is that your lover’s cock is hard for you. Yearning for you. And you just want to…comfort it a bit. Let it know you’re there. That you care. 

Did you miss me? You think fondly, as your fingers slip underneath the waistband of his pants and meet the burning flesh beneath. You just need a little attention that’s all. 

Michael’s cheek twitches and his cock pulses in your hand—greedy for your touch—but otherwise he remains blissfully asleep, unaware of your attentions. It’s so easy, so simple, to grip and stroke in that comfortingly familiar way of yours. Like you’ve done this a thousand times.

(And you have.)

He shudders and you hear him let out a little breath—so quiet you almost don’t catch it—but still he somehow remains asleep. His body knows you’re there. It wants this. It needs it. But his mind clearly hasn’t caught up with it. So you continue your touches—your hurried little strokes.  You are so sleepy and yet so desperate to see him to the end of this. Bring him that sweet release his body wants so badly so he can wake up in a few hours, happy and refreshed and none the wiser. 

You don’t even think about it before you do it. It just comes so naturally. It takes barely more than a few movements—pulling down the waistband of his pants to free that hungry cock—and then you’re swallowing him down. 

He tastes like salt. Like sleep and home. 

He makes a real noise then. An audible grunt, deep in his chest, and you feel his hips jerk gently upwards. But when you flick your eyes upwards all you see is the face of a man still slumbering away. 

Giddy, you continue. Sucking and licking and squeezing like his cock is your own personal plaything. Sex with him is always good. Great, in fact. But there’s just something about him being so vulnerable, so…helpless that has you feeling almost feral. 

You don’t even realize he’s finally awoken until you feel fingers threading through your hair. 

“Now what did I do,” Michael’s voice hitches as you suck a little harder along the crown of his cock. “…To deserve this?” 

You smile, lips curving upward as your tongue continues lapping along that pulsing vein underneath the head. It takes no time at all to finish him off. He’s already so close. So worked up from your previous attentions. A little extra suction, a little squeeze on his balls and he’s gone. He swears, hips and fingers trembling as you feel hot cum pulse down your throat. 

You lick your lips like a pleased cat with a bowl of cream before finally replying to his earlier question. 

“Oh, you know. Just for being you.” 

Next Chapter

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Thanks for reading! 🫶

[brownsugarcoffy]

The Hallelujah Heat (1)

Summary

In a small Mississippi Delta town steeped in scripture, reputation, and whispers, Ise Bakersfield has always walked the righteous path as the preacher’s only daughter. Pressed skirts, quiet Sundays, and eyes that cast down low. However, something or rather someone has come to stir the fire within her.

Stack "Elias" Moore is Magnolia Lane’s smooth-talking neighborhood bad boy. It all starts with lingering glances on her porch and soon becomes a heat that haunts her thoughts. What begins as innocent avoidance quickly turns to dangerous curiosity. Their worlds aren’t meant to touch, but temptation knows no bounds... and Ise is about to find out what happens when desire dares to cross the line.

Characters: Ise Bakersfield (OC) x Stack " Elias" Moore

Warning: Vulgar Language, Sexual content, Angst, Slow Burn & More..

Chapters: PART 2 , PART 3

A/N: I thought about an idea early this morning and was like, "I'm writing this."😭 Feedback is welcome. Enjoy!

NOT EDITED

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Stack “ Elias” Moore lived five houses down on Magnolia Lane. He has been there since the day he was born, just like Ise Bakersfield, but they moved in different circles.

Ise was the preacher’s only daughter. Very polished, pressed, and proper, with her hair in soft waves and her ankles hidden beneath hems that didn’t dare misbehave. Folks called her a good girl, said she’d marry a deacon’s son and play piano on Sundays just like her mama.

Stack was the boy the church elders warned her about.

Too slick for his own good, with that lazy grin and a mouth full of sugar and sin. Rumor was he ran liquor behind the juke joint, played cards with married women, and always came home with lipstick on his collar. He wore gold in his mouth like he was daring the Lord to pull them out .

They never truly spoke. Not a real conversation, anyway. But that didn’t mean Ise hadn’t noticed him. She just made sure she noticed in silence.

That evening, the sky was the color of sweet tea and smoke. Ise was sitting on the porch swing in her Sunday best, even though it was Tuesday. A hymn book in her lap. Legs crossed at the ankle like her mama taught her, but her eyes were sinning.

Across the way, Stack leaned against the wood post at his daddy’s gate, lighting a cigarette with one hand and watching the street like it owed him something. The flame kissed his face long enough for her to see the hunger behind his easy look.

He caught her watching.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t wave.

Just strolled across the road slowly, cigarette dangling, voice dragging like jazz on a scratchy record.

“Evenin’, Miss Bakersfield.”

She closed the hymn book but didn’t stand. “Didn’t think you knew my name.”

“I know a lotta things,” he said, stopping just shy of her porch. And I know good girls ain’t supposed to stare at boys like me.”

She should’ve flushed. Should’ve gone inside.

Instead, she tilted her head. “Nobody told you to come over here. Betta be careful folks’ll think you’re sweet on the preacher’s daughter.”

Stack grinned, slow and dangerous. “I ain’t sweet on nobody. Just got a curiosity for quiet things with heat underneath.”

And for the first time, Ise let her smile rise. It was sharp, knowing, unbothered by God or gossip.

“Careful, boy,” she warned. “Curiosity like that? That’s how folks catch fire.”

He exhaled smoke toward the evening sky.

“Maybe I like the burn.” Stack exhaled again, slow and steady, letting the smoke curl around the space between them. He didn’t climb the steps. He just stood there on the ground like he knew his place, or maybe like he was daring her to invite him up.

Ise tilted her head a little more, her voice soft but laced with bite. “You curious about me, but your curiosity needs to focus on how you gon’ keep screwin’ Mr. Chase’s wife, Lottie.”

The corner of Stack mouth lifted. Not in shock or in shame. Just that same lazy, low grin like he was half-impressed.

“Sounds like somebody been keepin’ tabs on me.” He leaned in, voice syrup-slick.

“Now is the church girl judgin’ me… or she got her own curiosity?”

Ise’s fingers tightened around the hymn book. She didn’t blink. “You don’t rattle me, Stack.”

He chuckled, eyes glittering beneath the porch light. “Didn’t say I did.”

She should’ve gone inside, but she didn’t. Lord help her, part of her liked that he wasn’t embarrassed about Lottie Chase. That he didn’t flinch. That he could smile with smoke on his tongue and sin on his breath and still act like she was the only thing worth noticing on that porch.

Static stepped back, not retreating, just giving her space like he knew he’d be on her mind anyway.

“Well,” he said, flicking ash to the dirt. “I’ll leave you to your hymns and thoughts, Miss Bakersfield.”

“Goodnight, Stack.”

He turned with that same easy swagger, but not before he let his gaze fall on her lips. It was just as long enough to make her chest ache and wonder what his mouth felt like.

However, she was a Bakersfield. A preacher’s daughter. There was a reputation to maintain.

So she lifted her chin and swung gently on the porch like her heart wasn’t pounding loud enough to drown out every song in that hymn book.

An hour after Stacks left her on the porch, Ise was still pacing in her room, hands twisting the hem of her slip, heart ticking like a clock that couldn’t calm down.

Her mama’s voice floated up from the kitchen. “Ise, baby, come on down here and wash your hands. I need you to help me jar this marmalade before it gets cool.”

Ise blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Coming, Mama.”

The kitchen was full of citrus and sugar, the smell of orange and peach marmalade thick in the air like perfume. Her mother stood at the stove, stirring the last pot, wearing her floral apron and humming gospel under her breath.

“I need you to start with those sterilized jars. Use the funnel, don’t make a mess,” she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

Ise rolled up her sleeves and got to work, carefully spooning the golden orange spread into the jars, the rhythm of it keeping her grounded.

Halfway through sealing the lids, the phone rang. A sharp trill that cut through the soft clinking of jars. Her mama wiped her hands and picked it up.

“Hello? … Oh Lord, Carla’s in labor? Already?” Her mother’s tone shifted quickly, moving from curiosity to command. “I’ll be right there. Y’all keep her calm and don’t let her get up. She dilated last time before she even knew it.”

Hanging up, she turned to Ise. “That was your Auntie Winnie. Carla's contractions five minutes apart. I gotta go. I’ll take the birth kit and head over.”

She grabbed her bag from the pantry but paused at the door. “Before you do anything else after jarin’, take this box over to Miss Frances’ house. She bought these last week and I told her she’d have ’em today. I don’t care what’s goin’ on, I made a promise.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ise said, drying her hands.

By the time she finished sealing the last lid, twilight had deepened. The walk to Mrs. Frances’ house wasn’t long, just a few blocks down on the east side, but the box was heavy and the evening air still clung with warmth.

When she reached the steps of the small yellow house with the chipped shutters, she paused.

Blues music drifted out from the open window. Smooth and loud. The clink of bottles, laughter, deep voices floating like smoke through the screen door. Something was going on inside. A gathering. Maybe a party.

She knocked anyway, balancing the box on her hip.

After a few seconds, the door creaked open, revealing Cornbread, Mrs. Frances’ youngest boy, tall and sturdy with a low cut and an unsure look in his eyes. His expression froze when he saw who it was.

“Miss Ise? Uh… what you doin’ here?”

She raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “Droppin’ off your mama’s marmalade. My mama promised it’d be here today.”

Cornbread looked like he’d swallowed a brick. “You… you ain’t gon’ say nothin’, are you? My mama think I’m just havin’ a couple boys over to help fix the gutters.”

Ise gave a small shrug, adjusting the box in her hands. “I don’t care what y’all doin’ long as you ain’t burnin’ nothin’ down. Where you want this?”

He blinked. “Uh, I take this, I guess.”

She was about to hand him the box when she heard it. A voice, low and cocky from inside the living room. Smooth as honey and just as sticky.

“Nigga, you sure you wanna bet that much? Your luck runnin’ thinner than your hairline.”

Ise froze.

That voice.

She peered past Cornbread and saw Stack, sitting at the card table, legs stretched out, suspenders hanging loose off his shoulders, surrounded by two other guys laughing and drinking from red cups. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the smoke curling up like a spell.

He hadn’t noticed her yet.

Something pulled at her, something reckless and curious. This world wasn’t hers. Not the dim lights, not the smell of beer and cigarettes, not the muffled bass of a stereo vibrating against the walls.

But she wanted to know.

She wanted to know what it felt like to be inside Stack orbit when he wasn’t leaning on porches in the moonlight, teasing her with half-truths and daring smiles. She wanted to see him with his guard down. Wanted to see the version of him that didn’t talk in riddles.

She shifted the box into Cornbread’s arms. “Actually… before I go, could I get a glass of water? That walk had me thirsty.”

Cornbread looked startled but polite. “Y-yeah, of course. You can come in. The kitchen is on your right, straight through that hall. I’ll put these on the counter.”

Ise stepped inside.

The door closed behind her.

And with it, so did every line she wasn’t supposed to cross.

Inside Mrs. Francis’ house, the air was thick with music and humidity. Someone had pushed the parlor furniture against the walls, clearing room for dancing and dominoes. A record spun scratchy blues in the corner, and the scent of bootleg gin and sweet cologne tangled together like secrets. Laughter rose in waves, but just beneath it were voices sharper than they meant to be.

Ise stepped inside wrapping her arns across her body, as her Sunday shoes clicking against the hardwood, all she wanted was to be quick and invisible.

But eyes found her like they always did.

Ise moved through the hallway with her hands folded in front of her like she was still carrying the marmalade, though her heart beat louder than any stereo speaker.

From the living room, laughter burst, followed by the clack of dominoes and the scrape of card decks. Stack was still seated at the table, back to her now, shoulders relaxed like sin didn’t have a price.

Her and Cornbread vanished toward the kitchen ahead of her, the box of jars rattling lightly with each step.

“Glasses are in the cabinet above the sink,” he called. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

“I got it,” Ise answered, her voice even.

Cornbread looked jumpy. Ise could see him glancing from the faucet to the front door like he expected her to scold him about every bottle tucked behind curtains and every girl sitting on laps of young men.

“I ain’t gon’ say nothin’,” she said softly, arms folded as she leaned against the counter. “Your party ain’t none of my business.”

Cornbread glanced over his shoulder, surprised. “Oh. Uh—well…thank you, Miss Ise.”

“Just Ise,” she replied.

“ Well thank you, Ise.” Cornbread smiles as he walks back out the kitchen.

Now standing by herself in a dimly lit kitchen which was cleaner than she expected. Smelling faintly the scene of lemon soap and something fried hours ago. She reached for a glass and turned the faucet on low, watching the water rise.

Outside of the kitchen, gossip began to spread like wildfire throughout the house.

“Preacher’s daughter just walked in,” Stephanie said, her voice pitched high enough to slice through the trumpet solo on the record. She sat on the arm of a sofa, her legs crossed loose and glossy with oil, lips redder than church pew cushions. “Came through the front door with Cornbread like she ain’t scared of her daddy’s belt.”

“Lawd, what she doin’ here?” another woman asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a silk scarf slipping down one shoulder. “She come to save us or judge us?”

A couple of them laughed. Not loud, but enough.

“Maybe she tired of bein’ holy and came to sin proper,” Stephanie added with a drag from her cigarette, smoke curling up toward the ceiling like a prayer going the wrong direction.

That’s when the card table stilled.

Stack, sitting with a hand full of spades, paused mid-turn. His dark eyes lifted, slow and lazy, toward the direction of the kitchen. The overhead light gleamed off the edge of his suspenders as he shifted in his chair. He didn’t say a word at first just stared, listening.

“Who you say?” one of the men asked.

Stephanie’s grin widened. “Lil Miss Ise. Lookin’ like temptation in pressed cotton.”

Stack stood up. No warning. No sigh. He placed his cards face down with deliberate ease and adjusted his collar, rolling his sleeves up higher on his forearms. A gold watch winked on his wrist as he tucked his cigarette behind his ear.

“She in the kitchen?” he asked, not to anyone in particular.

Cornbread’s voice called from the back, a little nervous: “Ise just droppin’ off somethin’ for my mama. That’s all. She is not gonna tell on nobody.”

Stack didn’t respond. He was already moving, slow and easy, like he was headed toward something he’d already dreamed about.

The women fell quiet as they watched him go.

Stephanie blew out a plume of smoke and murmured, “Mm-hmm. That boy ‘bout to forget his poker hand for a little church mouse.”

The cold water touched Ise lips just as a familiar scent rolled in tobacco, cologne, and something warm she couldn’t name. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.

Stacks filled the doorway like he’d been summoned by the heat rising in her chest. His suspenders had slid off his shoulders, hanging loose around his hips, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. A curl of smoke hung near his ear from the cigarette he’d tucked there earlier. That lazy, confident posture made her heart beat just a little louder, though her face didn’t flinch.

“Well,” Stack drawled. “Didn’t expect to see you here. I figured you only left your porch to go to the church or the corner store.”

She set the glass down slowly on the counter and met his gaze. “Didn’t expect to see you sittin’ in someone else’s mama house like you ain’t got enough scandals folks whisper about.”

Stack’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it grew smoother.

“For a church mouse, you sure keep tabs on a lot of gossip.” he said, voice like slow rain.

Ise narrowed her eyes, lifting her chin. “ Or maybe I just listen better than most.”

“You do more than that.” His gaze flicked down, slow and deliberate. “You watch.

She should’ve slapped him for being so bold, but the truth was she had watched. Watched him saunter down Magnolia Lane like he owned it. Watched the way women leaned close when he spoke. Watched his lips, too.

Stack took one step closer. Not touching, but near enough for her to feel the heat coming off his skin. “Tell me, Ise…” he murmured. “What else you curious ‘bout?”

Her laugh was sharp, soft, almost bitter.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He leaned just a little closer, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah,” he said, low. “I would.” For a breath, neither of them moved.

The sounds of music and laughter floated in from the parlor, but in that kitchen, time thickened like molasses. Ise’s fingers curled slightly against the edge of the counter, her heart hammering under her prim clothes.

Then, like something snapped back into place, she smoothed her clothes and reached for the empty glass and placed it in the sink.

“I should go,” she said, voice quiet but firm.

Stacks didn’t argue. Just stepped aside, letting her pass, but his eyes stayed on her, trailing the sway of her walk, memorizing it like scripture.

Before she can make towards the end of the hallway Stack will say something that would change Ise forever.

“You ever think ‘bout it?”

She paused. Didn’t turn. “’Bout what?”

“Doin’ something you can’t take back. Just once.” His voice was a hush behind her. “Just to see how it feels.”

She did turn then. Slowly. Met his gaze through the dim hallway light, the shadows softening the edges of his jaw and catching in the curl of his lashes.

Her lips parted, like a question was about to fall. But instead, she swallowed it. Straightened her shoulders. Lifted her chin the way her mama taught her.

“Good night, Stack.”

She opened the front door and stepped out into the thick Delta night, the air humming with summer heat and something heavier. Something that stayed with her all the way down Magnolia Lane.

Stack didn’t follow. He stood in that kitchen, smiling to himself, the ghost of her perfume still caught in his lungs. And when he finally went back to the card table, his grin was slower. Hungrier.

Because now he knew: Ise Bakersfield curious.

And sooner or later? Curiosity always came back around.

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The next day

The sun rose slowly over the morning sky, the gold hues spilling through the curtains in the Bakersfield family kitchen. Roosters crowed and made noise behind the family house, and the scent of fresh grass and bacon drifted from the open windows.

Ise stood at the kitchen sink, washing the same teacup for the third time.

She’d barely slept.

Her mother had come home just after dawn, exhausted but smiling. Aunt Carla had delivered a healthy baby boy. Ise had hugged her, helped her off with her boots, and nodded politely as her mama went on about the birth.

However, her mind kept returning to the moment in Cornbread’s kitchen.

To the way Stacks looked at her like he was undressing her with just his eyes. The feeling of heat curling low in her belly.

“Lord, help me,” she whispered, setting the cup aside.

“Did you say something, baby,?” Her mother questioned behind her.

“ No ma'am.” She turned and forcibly formed a smile, as she dried her hands with a towel and walked to the table to hear her mother talk more about her night.

Later that afternoon, Ise followed her mother up the steps to the Post Office in town. Her arms are full of letters tied in twine. Her mama wore her good church hat. It was navy with white trim and a thin sheen of sweat clung to her temple, but she held her chin high, proud like always.

“Gotta get these to your brother ‘fore the week run out,” she said, tucking the letters under her arm as they stepped inside.

The post office was full, thick with the smell of dust, ink, and wood. A few folks turned to nod politely. Others were too busy fanning themselves with old envelopes or sighing about the wait. Then the front door creaked open, and just as Ise turned to move aside for whoever was leaving, her breath caught.

Stack.

He stepped into the sunlight like he owned it.

Wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders hanging from his hips and his signature black hat, and that same lazy walk that made it feel like the ground bent to his pace.

She barely had time to glance away before his eyes found her.

For a half-second, neither of them moved.

Then he tipped his hat barely visible, just enough to say he saw her as he walked out the door.

Ise turned quickly to her mother. “Mama, it’s awful warm in here. You mind if I wait outside?”

Her mother looked up the line, then back to her daughter. “Don’t go far. Soon as I send these off, we headin’ to the store.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ise said, smoothing her skirt like it needed taming, even though the wild in her had nothing to do with fabric. She stepped back outside, heart tapping her ribs like a second hand on a clock.

Stack hadn’t gone far. Just down the steps, toward the corner where the magnolia trees threw long shadows across the road. He was lighting a cigarette with that same slow ease, shoulders relaxed like he had all the time in the world.

Ise began to walk toward him, but not too fast, also not too slow.

He didn’t look at her right away. Just spoke like he’d known she was coming. “You always this good at making folks think you're innocent?”

She folded her arms. “You always this bold with somebody else’s daughter?”

Stack turned, eyes traveling the length of her like he was tracing a poem he meant to memorize. “Only when she don’t run the other way.”

Ise’s lips curved just a little. “You ever think maybe I like to run so I can feel the heat chase me from behind?”

Stack took a drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowed against the sun, and exhaled through his nose.“Then maybe you ain’t as sweet as folks say.”

Ise didn’t flinch. “Maybe they don’t know how many kinds of sweetness there are.” Their eyes locked. And for a long, thick second, the town fell away. No mothers. No church. No porch swings or hymn books or jars of marmalade.

Stack took another drag, letting the smoke roll from his lips like a secret. Ise stood just a few feet from him, arms still folded, her eyes shaded by her lashes.

“ So…what brings you to the post office?” she asked, tone light but lined with something more curious than casual as she tried to break the tension.

He cut a glance her way, one brow lifting like he already had the answer but wanted to see if she could handle the delivery.

“Thought I might run into a pretty girl with a sharp tongue and a habit of lookin’ like Sunday morning trouble,” he said, flicking ash off the edge of his cigarette.

Ise raised an eyebrow, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “Mm. That right?”

“Maybe,” Stack said, smiling now. “Or maybe I was just sendin’ off a letter to my brother.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the honesty tucked under the charm. “Your brother?”

“Mm-hmm,” He nodded, his grin softening. “Smoke. Been stationed overseas a few months now. Ain’t one for writin’, but I know he has been missin’ me.”

Ise’s arms lowered. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her sleeve, something thoughtful passing through her gaze.

“That’s what we are here for that too,” she said quietly. “My older brother. Leroy. Mama won’t sleep easy ‘til she sends him her prayers on paper.”

Stack looked at her differently like they stepped out of the game for just a minute and shared something real.

“Leroy in the Army?”

Ise nodded. “Been gone over a year now. We don’t hear from him often.”

“Same with ‘Smoke,” Stack said. He tapped the side of his cigarette thoughtfully, the flirt gone quiet for a moment. “Funny how folks can be halfway ‘round the world, and you still feel like they sittin’ at your kitchen table.”

She smiled at that. Not wide. But real.

“I hope they both come home safe,” she said softly.

Stack nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

For a beat, the heat didn’t feel so heavy. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward, it was stitched with something shared. Something neither one of them could name yet.

Then Ise looked back toward the post office. “Mama’ll be done soon. We got more errands to run.”

Stack leaned back against the railing post, tilting his head. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“You ain’t,” she said, turning to go, but pausing after a step. “You just… slowed me down a little.”

She didn’t wait to see his reaction. Didn’t need to. She could feel his eyes behind her. Warm, amused, and watching.

And she liked it.

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Three days later

One second, the clouds loomed heavy; the next, they cracked open and poured rain straight down. Ise clutched the brown paper sack against her chest like it held her whole world because it did. Inside were the mother-of-pearl buttons and soft gray fabric her mama needed to repair her father’s Sunday suit. She’d walked all the way to Miss Lettie Fabric Shop and back without trouble. Until now.

She had no umbrella. No coat. Just the damp hem of her dress slapping against her legs and her breath hitching as she searched for shelter.

Her eyes caught it off the road, half-hidden behind low willow branches and tall grass: an old shack, abandoned from the looks of it, but standing solid.

She didn’t think twice.

Shoes thudding against the muddy path, she dashed up the wooden steps and pushed through the door, panting, the sound of rain drumming loud on the roof above. The inside smelled like old cedar and dust, with a draft sneaking through the walls. But it was dry.

She turned to close the door and nearly screamed at the presence behind her

A figure leaned in the corner, half-shadowed. Then a familiar voice broke the air, smooth and amused:

“Well, well… preacher’s daughter.”

She blinked, heart thudding. “Lord have mercy—Stack?! You scared the life outta me.”

“You scared me too,” he said with a slow grin. “Thought you were a raccoon at first.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but her chest still rose and fell with adrenaline. Her hair had come undone, water dripping from the curls at her temples. She set the bag of fabric down gently on a dry crate.

“What are you doing in here?”

He shrugged. “Same as you. Duckin’ the storm. I was down by the tracks when it broke loose.”

They stood there for a beat, just the sound of rain hammering the tin roof above them. It was louder than she expected.

Her thin blouse clung to her arms, and her curls dripped rainwater down the nape of her neck. This caused Ise to start shivering, which she wrapped her arms closer to her body to find any warmth left.

Stack noticed.

“You’re soaked,” he said quietly. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sayin’ that, but you shiverin’ like a leaf.”

Ise turned away, rubbing her hands along her arms. “I said I’m fine.”

Stack moved then, slow like molasses, and took off his denim overshirt. “Here.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Didn’t say you needed it,” he replied, his voice a low hum. “Just figured I’d rather not sit here listenin’ to your teeth chatter.”

She hesitated, but the heat radiating from his shirt was too tempting to ignore. She took it, wrapped it around her shoulders, and sat on a crate across from him. Their knees weren’t touching, but they were close too close.

“You always show up when I least expect you,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on the flickering candle stub in the corner.

“Maybe you should start expectin’ me.”

“That sounds like trouble.”

“That’s ‘cause I am.”

The silence that followed was heavy, not awkward, not empty, but weighted. Charged.

“You ever kiss someone before?” he asked suddenly.

Her breath caught. “Excuse me?”

“Just a question.”

“Why you wanna know?”

Stack leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. The rain pounded above them, thunder cracking low in the distance. “Because every time I see you, I think about what you look thoroughly kissed.”

She swallowed, eyes flashing. “Don’t be crude.”

“I’m not. I’m bein’ honest. Ain’t asking you to do it,” he said, voice softer now, “but if you think I ain’t curious… then you ain’t been payin’ attention.”

Ise’s pulse roared in her ears. She should’ve stood up. Walked out. Said something sharp and holy to make him feel small.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she said, “You always this bold?”

“Only with you.”

She shook her head, looking away with a half-smile she didn’t mean to show. “You don’t know nothin’ about me.”

“I know you like to sit on the porch and read.,” he said. “I know you looked for me that day outside the post office. I know you don’t flinch when I talk to you the way I did in Cornbread’s kitchen. And I know…” He paused, eyes locked on hers. “You wonder about me too.”

She didn’t answer him back, simply ignored the beautiful man right in front of her and looked towards the window.

The rain wasn't letting up. If anything, it came down harder. Thunder rumbled again, low and long, rattling the shack’s old wood panels.

Ise still sat there, arms crossed, pretending like her skin wasn’t burning beneath Stacks shirt. The scent of him. It was smokey, spicy, and something almost sweet. She kept her eyes trained on a crack in the wall across from her, willing her heartbeat to slow.

Stack didn’t say anything for a while. Just watched her.

She could feel his gaze. Very sharp and steady, like he could see past every wall she was trying to keep up. It made her stomach flip. Made her chest tight. She hated that.

“You always this quiet?” he asked finally, voice breaking the heavy silence. “Or is it just me?”

She exhaled slowly. “I just don’t feel like entertainin’ conversation right now.”

“Mm.” He leaned back, the crate beneath him creaking. “That so?”

She didn’t reply.

“Funny,” he added, “you ain’t had no trouble speakin’ when you told Cornbread you needed a glass of water.”

Her eyes cut toward him. “That wasn’t nothin’.”

“Sure didn’t feel like nothin’.” He smirked, tapping ash from his cigarette that he lit two minutes ago. “You came in lookin’. Admit it.”

Ise rolled her eyes and stood up abruptly, turning her back to him. “I came to drop off marmalade.”

“Uh huh. And decided to linger.” His voice dipped. “Like you lingerin’ now.”

She whirled around, her voice sharp. “You think you so irresistible, don’t you?”

Stack didn’t flinch. He just tilted his head, one brow raised. “I don’t think I’m irresistible,” he said low. “I just think you ain’t as uninterested as you act.”

She opened her mouth, ready to shut that down,but nothing came out. Because he was right. And she hated that.

He stood slowly, stretching, his tall frame moving with lazy, unbothered confidence. He walked to the window and looked out at the rain still falling in sheets.

“Storm ain’t quittin’ anytime soon,” he said over his shoulder. “Guess we stuck.”

She stayed standing, stiff and defensive. “I can wait it out.”

He turned back to her, leaned against the window frame with that crooked grin. “I hope you do. You make good company when you ain’t tryin’ so hard to act like you hate mine.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said quietly, almost surprised to hear herself say it aloud.

He grinned. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t go gettin’ ideas.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

She huffed, flustered, and sat back down. The air between them thickened like the humidity outside, heavy with something neither of them wanted to name.

He walked over, slower this time, and sat again closer than before. Not touching. But close enough she could feel the heat of him.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” he murmured.

She didn’t answer right away. Then, “What?”

“Why you fightin’ it so hard?”

She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Because I know better.”

“Do you?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. “Or you just scared what will happen if you don’t?”

The silence stretched between them again, thick and electric. The only sound was the steady drum of rain on the roof and the occasional crack of thunder in the distance.

Stack glanced at her and studied the way her arms were still folded like a barrier, her back stiff, her lips pressed into a line that looked too soft to be held like that.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice rough and quiet when he spoke again.

“You ever been kissed, Ise?”

She froze.

Her eyes cut to him slowly, like she wasn’t sure she heard him right.

“What?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I said,” he repeated, softer now, “you ever been kissed?”

The heat in her cheeks flared so fast it nearly embarrassed her. She turned her head, gaze fixed on the wall again, pretending like the question didn’t crawl beneath her skin and settle low in her stomach.

“ Again, that ain’t none of your business,” she said flatly.

Stack gave a slow grin. “That mean yes... or no?”

She sucked her teeth. “It means you're bold.”

“Maybe,” he said, voice curling with a teasing edge. “But I’m curious. Ain’t like I got anything else to do in this shack but ask questions and listen to the rain.”

“You could shut up.”

He chuckled low. “You want me to?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Her heart fully pounding now. It was getting worse because the thought was playing in her mind: what would it feel like if he kissed her?

Stack sat back again, dragging his thumb along his jaw, watching her like he could see the thoughts she was trying to hide.

“Must be a no,” he said after a moment, almost to himself. “Ain’t no shame in it.”

“I didn’t say no,” she snapped.

“So is it yes then?”

She looked at him. Eyes narrowed, chin tilted up just enough to show that pride of hers was still fighting.

“I didn’t say yes neither.”

He smiled. Not cocky this time—just slow, deliberate. “Hmm. I’ll take that as a maybe.”

She folded her arms tighter, like she was holding herself together. “You think you got some power over me.”

“I think,” he said, voice low and steady, “you wanna know what it feel like too.”

That shut her up. She just stared back, mouth parted slightly, breath shallow caught between her pride and her curiosity.

And he didn’t push.

He just let the next question hang in the air, thick and warm and dangerous.

“You ever been with a man?” he asked, quiet but direct. He wanted to see how far she can take his teasing, like he wasn’t already crawling beneath her skin.

Ise’s spine straightened. “What kinda question is that?”

“The kind you ain’t gotta lie to answer.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Didn’t answer either.”

She exhaled slowly, trying to keep her composure, but she could see how hard her heart was thudding in her chest. She hated how he made her feel like every secret she’d ever kept was written on her face.

“I don’t go around lettin’ men touch me like that,” she finally said, voice tight.

“That ain’t what I asked,” Stack murmured.

She turned sharply toward him, eyes flashing. “And what if the answer is no? You tryna feel big ‘cause you more ‘experienced’? That's it?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smirk.

His voice was softer now, almost too sincere. “Nah. Just tryna understand what makes you so scared.”

“I ain’t scared.”

“Then why you act nervous every time I look at you too long?”

That hit a nerve.

Ise looked away, jaw clenched, lips pressed together like she could lock all her feelings behind them.

Stack stood, slow and careful, and stepped toward her. The shack suddenly felt even smaller with him closing the distance. He didn’t touch her, he just stood close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off him.

“I ain’t ask to kiss you,” he said low. “Ain’t even ask to touch you.”

“Good,” she said sharply, even though her voice was weaker now. “’Cause I ain’t offering.”

“But you think about it.”

Her eyes snapped up to his, burning.

“I don’t.”

“Lyin’ again,” he whispered.

The rain thundered harder above them, but neither one moved.

Then Stack did something bold. He leaned in just slightly, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath brush her cheek.

“I ain’t gon’ do nothin’ you don’t want,” he said. “But you should stop pretending you ain’t curious.” Then he stepped back, leaving Ise standing there breathless.

Stack still was watching her with that same quiet intensity dancing behind his eyes. He could see straight through the act she put on.

“You ever think about me?” he asked, voice low and dragging.

She scoffed, rolled her eyes. “You really think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

He tilted his head, took a step closer.

“I’m serious,” he said, eyes locked to hers. “When you lay in that bed at night, all alone with nobody watchin’… you ever touch yourself thinking about me?”

Ise gasped like someone had smacked the wind out her chest.

“What?! Boy, what is wrong with you?” she snapped, but Stack only took another step, closing the space again. He didn’t grin. Didn’t tease. He just looked at her like he already knew the answer.

“You do,” he said softly. “Don’t you?”

She shook her head, too hard, too fast. “I don’t—I would never—”

“Lie all you want, Ise. But your eyes said it soon as I said the words.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to fire back something sharp, something prideful and cutting. However, nothing came because the truth hung heavy between them.

Stack moved closer still, his voice now a whisper meant for no one but her.

“I ain’t tryna shame you. Just want you to stop pretendin’ like I’m the only one feelin’ this thing.”

She finally looked toward him, her face burning, her breath uneven. “I don’t feel nothin’,” she lied, eyes wide and glassy. “You just… you just like playin’ with people.”

“Maybe,” he said, stepping back, voice low and rough. “But if I ever kissed you, I promise it wouldn’t feel like no game.”

Ise stood there frozen, pulse pounding so loud she could barely hear the rain anymore. She hated him for knowing. Hated herself for wanting.

She cleared her throat and said with more bite than she intended, “How about you go play with Mrs. Lottie… not me. Since you already screwin’ her and all.”

Stacks blinked, then let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. He leaned against the wall like her words didn’t faze him, but his eyes never left her.

“You jealous?” he asked, voice low, almost amused. “That she got a piece and you are still a frustrated little virgin too proud to ask for what you want?”

Ise stiffened. “I ain’t jealous of no married woman creepin’ with a man who don’t even belong to her.”

“No?” He pushed off the wall and stepped toward her again, closing that tiny gap between them. “Then why you bring her up? Why do you talk about her, but you standing in front of me with that look in your eyes like you don’t know whether to slap me or pull me in?”

“Because you—” she started, then stopped. Her throat tightened.

“Because I what?” he pressed. “Make you feel something you ain’t ready to admit?”

“I don’t feel nothin’ for you,” she lied again, quieter this time, her voice almost trembling.

Stack eyes flicked to her mouth, then back up.

“You keep sayin’ that. But your body…?” His gaze dropped slowly, deliberately. “She already told me the truth.”

Her heart slammed so hard against her ribs it hurt. She wanted to move, to push him, to run out into the rain. But her feet wouldn’t move.

“You can keep pretendin’, Ise,” he murmured. “But I see it. I feel it. Every damn time we close like this… you want me.”

Ise’s hands balled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. Her chest rose and fell fast, breath shaky, and she could feel his words crawling under her skin like heat.

“I’m tired of you tellin’ me what I want,” she said suddenly, voice shaking but firm.

Stack raised an eyebrow, mouth parting slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping toward him with something wild burning behind her eyes. “Matter fact…”

Before he could blink, her hands were in his shirt collar, yanking him down with more force than he expected. Their mouths crashed together. Her kiss wasn’t delicate or shy, it was full of fire and frustration and three days of pretending not to ache for him. Stacks stood frozen at first, stunned at her boldness, caught off guard by the heat of her lips, the grip she had on him like she’d finally lost control.

She pulled back just as quickly, breath shallow, eyes wide and dark. Her chest heaved like she couldn’t believe what she just did.

“Now you don’t have to guess what I want,” she muttered, voice sharp, and turned to head for the shack's door.

Before she reached it, his hand caught her wrist and spun her back into him. His mouth was on hers again. This time hungry, this time full of all the tension they’d been dancing around. It wasn’t sweet. It was heat and tongue and pressure, and the way his hands slid down to grip her waist made her breath catch in her throat.

He backed her against the wooden wall, lips never leaving hers, and this time she didn’t pull away.

The shack creaked under the weight of the rain pounding against the tin roof, but inside, all Ise could hear was the thunder of her own heartbeat.

Stack kiss deepened, hands exploring the curve of her waist like he was finally touching something he’d only dreamed about. She leaned into him, hands threading up into his slick back hair, tugging slightly at his scalp just to feel him groan against her lips.

“You got no idea,” Stack murmured between kisses, his lips brushing against her jaw, then her neck, “how long I’ve been wantin’ to do this…”

She bit her lip, tilting her head slightly to the side as his mouth found a spot just beneath her ear, sending a shiver all the way down her spine. She didn’t answer, she couldn’t.

His hand slid down her thigh, lifting it slowly as he pressed his body more firmly into hers. The tension between them had been building like pressure in a bottle, and now that it had finally burst, neither of them seemed willing to put the lid back on.

“Still gonna pretend you don’t think about me?” Stack rasped, pulling back just enough to look at her face, his breath hot against her cheek.

“You talk too damn much,” she whispered. She kissed him again, but deeper, rougher, her hands clutching his shirt like she was trying to pull him into her skin.

A sudden crunch of footsteps outside the shack cut through the storm and sliced the moment in half.

Ise jerked back like she'd been burned, her breath ragged, lips swollen from the kiss, and her eyes wide with alarm. "Shhh!" she hissed, pressing a finger to her lips as she strained to listen.

The voices of two men talking and laughing passed close by. The sound of their boots sloshing in the wet grass just outside the shack door. For a second, it sounded like they might stop. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Lord, if someone saw her out here, alone with a man like Stack, lips swollen, clothes wrinkled from where his hands had gripped her.

She quickly stepped away, smoothing her skirt, brushing invisible dust off her clothes. She wouldn’t be caught. Not like this.

The voices faded, distant now, swallowed by the rain. She exhaled a sharp, trembling breath and grabbed her bag.

“Ise,” Stack said quietly, watching her like he wasn’t ready for this moment to be over. His lips were still parted, chest still rising and falling fast.

She shook her head, not looking at him. “This was a mistake.”

He moved toward her, but she stepped back, reaching for the latch. “I can’t.I ain’t like those girls you mess with. I got too much to lose.”

Before he could say a word, she yanked the door open. Rain splattered in as she stepped out into it, not even bothering to shield herself. She half-ran down the muddy path, heart pounding harder now than when he’d kissed her.

Stack stood inside the shack, silent, wet from the rain but warm from her touch, staring at the door she’d disappeared through li

He didn’t chase her, but Lord knows… he wanted to.

TAGLIST:

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @brattyfics @chaneajoyyy @333creolelady @chixkencxrry @soufcakmistress @diamondsinterlude

[simp-ly-writes]

The First Thing You Hear

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.4)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: quiet morning and lab-time fun, all ruined by the power of one... and Jayce is willing to do anything for everything to go back as things were... anything.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective!Jayce, Fluff and angst, suggestive themes, kissing, kinda transitional chapter for season 2 (black outfit anyone?), mentions of blood and death, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,810

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: I really should be studying but all I can think about is THIS. Love and appreciate you all! *biggest virtual hugs*

─────── · ·

─ · · When you slowly blinked, opening your eyes to the sunlight coming in from underneath the door, you felt a weight on your stomach and looked down to see a sleeping Jayce, back exposed using you as a pillow. His arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you tightly as if worried you would disappear.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, feeling the silky smooth texture mixed with a few dead-ends, I need to book him a haircut, you told yourself humming gently as you debated how to remove yourself from him but as if sensing your thoughts, Jayce stirred in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent before placing more of his weight on you. At the start, it was a comforting weight as if an anxiety-blanket but it soon became unbearable.

You wheezed, "Jayce," you called out softly even though you were struggling to breathe, he did not move. "Jayce," you said a bit louder, watching as he shifted slightly, his head shaking in a "no." You scoffed, "Jayce," you warned, please don't tell me this is going to be every morning.

You watched as Jayce's golden eyes slowly opened and met your own- pleading with a small frown on his face, his hair un-styled and falling over his face. You picked up your hand, moving it back as he leaned into your touch. "morning, Jay," you said.

Jayce smiled, your heart beating rapidly in his chest in how soft he looked, as if about to cry tears of happiness that you were not some dream but physically there with him, laying in bed. "I love you," Jayce said, his voice deep and groggy as you clenched your bare thighs in reaction - hearing him chuckle.

"No good morning back?" you teased, removing your hands from his head to rub your eyes. Jayce picked himself up slightly, leaning in to place light delicate kissing from your collarbones up to your neck and just underneath your chin were he lingered.

"I want the first thing you hear ever day is my love for you, so that you may not question it," Jayce says gently before capturing your lips. You groan, pushing him away. "Morning breath, morning breath," you joke, trying to pick yourself up again but Jayce is having none of it.

"No, please. Let's just stay here for now, everyone else can wait. I have waited a decade for this, don't go now," Jayce says, kissing you once more, "please," another kiss. You fall back with a huff, looking up to Jayce. "Pleased now?" Jayce smiles a wide toothy grin, "very much so."

You watch as he rolls over, blankets exposing more skin for your eyes before Jayce is pulling you on top of his chest, chin on top of your head with a hum, "You are so beautiful." You blush, "you're pretty too," you joke, drawing random patterns on his skin before settling on a tattoo on his forearm you hadn't noticed before with his long-sleeves. You feel Jayce's chest rumble with a laugh, "thanks."

Your fingers dance across the ink before looking down at your blank arm with a contemplative look. "Why did you get this?" You ask, feeling as he shrugs, "Don't really remember but I just wanted a piece of something we all made." we all made... always so quick to be selfless.

You close your eyes with a sigh, wait... what are we? fuck, do I have a job? Yet the feeling of his thumb rubbing circles onto your hip, the soft blankets and warmth of his skin against yours had you forgetting your train of thought and falling asleep once again.

─────── · ·

─ · · You both were rushing around, bumping into one another in the bathroom. Jayce for the last half-hour had been trying to tempt you to join him in the shower but you too busy cursing him out once seeing all the marks running up your sore thighs. "Jayce fucking Talis," you swore watching as he poked his head out with a smirk.

"You were screaming my name quite pleasantly last night, whats the difference?" You shook your head, doing your makeup with the little you has in your purse before tucking in an over-sized button up. "You look so good in my clothes," Jayce murmured, a wet head placing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. "You're getting me all wet, Jay!"

"Oh am I now?" he raises a brow.

"I'll leave now if you don't stop," you threatened, looking at him through the slightly foggy mirror, trying to hide a smile. "You wouldn't dare," Jayce glared at you back, taking your words seriously, zipping up his pants and leaning on the counter. You raised your chin, "I mean, you said it yourself... I do have an officer wanting my-"

The sudden rush to your head as you were picked up and you swatted his back, "We are going to be even more late! The meeting started an hour ago we really have to go NOW!"

"You're officially unemployed now, remember?" Jayce said back, hips pinning you to the bed, your hands trapped between one of his larger ones. "But what about you?" you said, albeit a bit breathlessly.

"You got me caught up yesterday, or did you already forget?" Jayce tilts his head, kissing you in between words.

"You didn't fuck me that good, Jayce," you chuckle before seeing the look that casts over his features before capturing your bottom lip between his teeth and letting it fall. "No? then allow me to try again."

─────── · ·

─ · · You were not leaving unless you ran, and run you did after flinging back on your clothes and dashing right to the lab leaving an angry Jayce back at his apartment. You opened and closed the door before bracing your hands on your knees and intaking deep breaths before looking around the space and finding Viktor asleep at his desk. His cheeks appeared hollowed, his eyes sagging with bags as your heart cried, you hated how he had to get worse before getting better.

You brought a hand up, placing it at his back to feel his shallow breaths before you shook him away feeling him startle and sway. You grabbed his shoulder's gently, keeping the man in place, a frown coating your features, "Viktor? hey, hey, are you doing okay?"

Viktor looked through you with dead eyes. "I have been fine, just need to figure this out." You nodded, removing your touch before moving back to the blackboards. "I got fired," you said with your back turned feeling his wide stare, now fully awake. "He is an idiot, I apologize. Consider yourself hired." You scoffed before sharing a laugh.

"Really?" you turned around with a smile, knowing that this was what you were going to do all along. Viktor rolls his eye before he nods his head once- turning back to his desk and observing the growing plant at his desk with newfound intrigue... as if he could listen to it...

You watched out of the corner of your eye before he snapped his head over and you looked back with a whistle. Picking up a piece of chalk, you rewrote parts with new numbers you had written on your palm. Hmmm, maybe a 4 instead Oh! but what if we... you lost yourself in the maze your text swirling in circles as did your head.

─────── · ·

─ · · Jayce had joined you both later that day after a meeting with the council, tensions appeared as high and tight as his shoulders. You stepped down from a stool, dusting your hands on your pants before waving to Jayce of extended his hand in a silent ask that you followed, sitting on his desk as he placed his head in your lap with a sigh, "All I want is for this to do good, to save people, to protect Piltover... I didn't want all these politics and-" Jayce sighs, "I sound ungrateful, I'm sorry."

"No, Jayce. Don't say that," you said to him, "It's a job that no good person like yourself wants and the kind of job only the worst people strive towards. I may not be able to hold the burden, but I can help ease it," you say, picking his head up as he kisses your palm in thanks, closing his eyes before you both turn once hearing Viktor's scoff.

"I thought you got fired. Now you are a therapist."

"Oh, Viktor," you laugh, shaking your head before shoving Jayce off you as he leans back in his chair, playing with a pencil between his fingers as he looks at your combined work with squinted eyes. You all were so close to finding the answer to all your issues... it would only take a matter of time...

─────── · ·

─ · · When you and Jayce stepped out of the lab and back onto the Piltover streets for lunch, you were shocked just as everyone else was on how excited everyone appeared while looking at you both together.

"See son, I told you so," a parent says to their child groans and rolls there eyes with a huff before smiling at you and looking down at your connected hands. Jayce raises his chin, not even trying to hide his smile as you bury your face into his arm. "Too many eyes," you mumble, cheeks warming in what appears a permanent blush.

Cameras flashed as you walked together, "Why couldn't I just stay back in the lab?" you question, "I'm sure Viktor is lonely."

"I'm sure he is, and is thankful for it. We did spend the afternoon annoying him" Jayce replies with a chuckle, moving you to his other side while walking further away from the street. "You know you can't just pick me up and move me around Jayce," you comment, still looking ahead, feeling his stare, "I just want you safe." The crowd aww's as you slap his arm. "You're doing this on purpose," you glare.

Jayce shrugs, leaning down to kiss your forehead, "I'm just giving the people what they want." And by that moment, a little girl had ran off and hugged each of your legs together before looking up at you both. "Are you alright?" Jayce asked, crouching down, extending his hand as you leaned down as well. The girl only looked at you, eyes wide and mouth agape in awe, "I always wanted to meet a princess!"

Your eyes are now equally wide as you laugh off your shock, "Umm, well, sweetie I'm really not-" She leaps into your arms, hugging you, Jayce looks at the image of you two together fondly and with a certain glint to his eyes, you narrow your own, no, Jayce. The man picks up his hands, showing you his palms before a father is rushing over, apologizing profusely to you both as he unlatches his daughter from your arms.

"I am terribly sorry, she has an overactive imagination and-and loves you two- and I love your both- together I mean and," the father shakes his head as you hold up your hand, "Its alright," you speak softly receiving an appreciative nod.

"Princess?" Jayce tests the name on his lips, looking down at you and you can't look at him in the eyes right now, catching the look of someone in the crowd who gives you a thumbs up, hextech help me.

─────── · ·

─ · · The following days leading up to Jayce's speech were filled with the trio loosing themselves in the laboratory like shadows of their past echoing in the present. You sat beside Jayce, feet swinging back and fourth off his desk as you jotted down findings in your table-charts and journals.

A record was playing in the background as Viktor shook his head gently side to side with the beat, mumbling the chorus as Jayce joined in as the other voice, you laughed, flinging your head back while watching them both share this moment; singing and dancing as you got up, Jayce picking up your hand and inviting you to twirl before pulling you into a kiss.

You pulled away laughing, placing your head on his chest as you stood there looking out to a sunset Piltover, "I have missed this," you say without expecting a response, just voicing out your thoughts as Jayce places a large palm between your shoulder blades, bringing you close before forcing Viktor to join the group hug with a sigh. "I have missed this," Jayce says, squeezing you all together as Viktor groans and gags before removing himself, a smile evident on his features as he casts you a wink.

You playfully fan yourself before exchanging an eye roll, Jayce grunts, "Are you stealing my girl from me Viktor?" he teases as Viktor tenses. "No. I wouldn't do that to you, but she is my new lab assistant," he says as you firmly nod, crossing your arms in a challenging stance as Jayce hums, "You were quick to find work, sweetheart."

You shake your head with a smile, "This was never about work," you repeat Jayce's word back to him watching as his eyes light up, "I love you," he says.

"If you two are going to be acting like this, I might have to fire you both," Viktor says, half mocking, half seriously. You and Jayce look at one another before looking back at Viktor, "we love you too, Viktor!"

Viktor pinches the bridge of his nose cursing you both out.

─────── · ·

─ · · Later that day, you all sat in front of the blackboard in your respective chairs, Jayce's arm around the back of yours as you all ate together, the conversation taken away from scientific's as you all catch up with one another.

"Jayce and I are... together now," you say. "I couldn't see that," Viktor firs back, fork pointing at the arm around your shoulder and the hand that twirls your hair in between his fingers. Your cheeks warm as you look away from them both and stare straight at the board.

Viktor leans forward into your vision, "I am happy for you both, truly." You smile as does Viktor before leaning back. You lean your head back on Jayce's arm, closing your eyes. "Don't fall asleep on me, will have to carry you back," Jayce says, your eyes open, head turning to look at your boyfriend. The term has your heart pounding to admit it to yourself.

"Like you would hate to do that, Jay," you retort with a snort. "You caught me there."

─ · · Jayce ended up carrying you to your bed, helping you out of your boots, putting down your hair as you leaned subconsciously into his touch, hands pulling to bring with warmth into your embrace as he chuckled and crawled in beside you before pulling over the covers.

You felt around with a frown before rolling over into his side and finding a smile. Jayce looked down at you resting on his chest, his heart aching with deep affection as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with a sigh, "I love you," he whispered to himself before looking up at your ceiling. and I hope that its enough for what it to come...

─────── · ·

─ · · You stood behind the curtain, watching off to the side as Jayce presented his second Progress Day speech. You didn't want to be in the crowd for his speech this time, a little selfish you knew but you didn't do well with crowds, happy to recite his words as he spoke them to everyone for the first time, you? the thousandths time.

You look to Viktor standing by yourself as he grips your hand, eyes scared yet proud of Jayce just as you were. "Thank god its not us speaking," you joke as the crowd cheers. Viktor laughs, squeezing your hand, "You know, I think we would put them to sleep." Its your turn to laugh before a voice shushes you and you both stand tall. Eyes gleaming in silent humour.

─ · · But with progress came set backs as you all stumbled back, a load distant bang rumbled through the backstage, you looked catching a glimpse of blue, but maybe it was just the fireworks? You told yourself feeling unease. Viktor tensed, dropping your hand and taking a step forward, he looked through the darkness while Jayce was finishing up his speech.

Your hands were shaking, you knew something was not right but you could not put your hand on it. So lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize Jayce was back, he grabbed your shoulders, shaking them slightly, "sweetheart? come back to me, whats wrong?" he asked, looking around the dark space to Viktor who just shrugged.

You looked up, a wary smile, "I-It's nothing Jayce," you told both him and yourself before reaching up and placing his hand on your cheek. "I'm alright... let's go and-" a scream sounded and you could smell smoke but by the time you looked back, the gemstone you all were saving was gone, shit, shit, shit, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

─────── · ·

─ · · The next series of months that lead into years were from hell. Those beginning quiet mornings with Jayce were now all-nighters as you both pulled your hair out and fell asleep atop one another, too tired do anything else, minds racing with work and endless life-altering decisions.

─ · · You could feel how much pressure the council was putting on Jayce, how this missing gemstone in the wrong hands was only going to be the first card falling in a series of failed hands you would be forced to play. And just when you thought yourself to be out of politics, that Viktor was doing okay, that your relationship was going alright. It all came slamming into you.

─ · · You and Jayce were without sleep, you nearly in tears from stress as Jayce yelled out his frustrations to you but it felt like at you by how stressed he was. You gripped your head, knees being pulled up into your chin as you rocked yourself for comfort. Someone just made a threat on our lives, someone wants to-to kill me! was all you could think and Jayce was already loosing his mind long before you were at the news he did his best to hide from you... people knew how much you meant to the councillor, how easily he would crumble without you. How did this all happen so quickly? You asked the sky, blinking away tears... how did warm mornings and long days in the lab result to this? The sky said nothing in response, just staring blankly back in its blue hues, crying at the loss of innocence alongside you.

─ · · You watched Jayce in the forge, sweat dripping down your back even when you stood far away from the fire. You would think your partner to be highly attractive in the current moment if you were your younger more clueless self as he worked himself to the bone, making what he promised never to do before... weapons. You hated that your combined life's work was not working out, that Viktor's health was failing and that Hextech was to be used this way but what little choice did you all have? The gates were up, your time was limited and being peacekeepers didn't work in the past... you felt disgusted with yourself as did Jayce, the tattoo burning against his skin, the embers hotly kissing your cheeks- burning into your skin like freckles. past self, please forgive me... for I am not the person I want to be...

─────── · ·

─ · · One night when you sat alone in your dark apartment besides a singular lamp, tea in hand as your floor was covered in a carpet of blueprints, a sudden knocking at the door had you grabbing a knife from the kitchen as you shook before seeing a broken Jayce at your doorstep, not speaking a word. You opened the door, allowing him to fall into your arms- his hammer leaving a permanent mark on the tiles in your entry-way. You didn't ask what happened, you didn't want to know. You had visited Viktor earlier that day in the hospital, your heart couldn't take much more and as Jayce kissed you for the first time in months, emotions overcame you both with a need for comfort in one another, in a remembrance of a past time where the stresses were at least manageable. A time where it was easy to love one another.

Your hands shook as you exposed skin, you sobbed against his shoulder as he silently cried into your own. His hand gripped your hips, pleading as you bit your quivering lip, listening to his whispers near your ear as he repeated, "I love you, I'm sorry," endlessly as if to repent. And that night you left permeant marks on one another as others would fade over time.

─────── · ·

─ · · You and Jayce held one another in the morning, the light appearing cold as the breeze as you thought of an empty lab, a sense of deja vu washing over you both. You grasped his hand, closing your eyes again to keep in the moment, to keep the tears at bay, you were going to lose a friend today, slowly you would watch him fade away as you have been but this time... there was no hope.

Viktor would take his last breath, he would solve his last equation with you by his bedside, crack his last insult in your face and then... nothing. You felt sick, a hollow feeling in your stomach, your blood cold.

Today you would watch from the corners as Jayce spoke with the council in a desperate attempt for solution; something you both always used to be good at... cracking numbers, drawing diagrams, you could smile, cry, laugh, plead- with your past self yet they were never returning back to help you now.

You thought back to your first days working alongside Jayce, just how scared you were then as you were now. You remember meeting Jayce's mother, her cooking on your tongue and her sweet and welcoming words in your ears as she hugged you dearly, as if one of her own. You think of Jayce drawing on your skin, whispering into his ear during early council meetings, of the passion that burned in his eyes as he pulled you down the hall and the love in his eyes as you screamed and yelled at him.

You don't realize yourself to be silently crying as you think about the first night you shared together. His touch, body draping over and protecting your own while bruising your skin with his love before kissing over the marks. You felt as Jayce's chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, he too was struggling as he pressed his head to your shoulder.

"I love you..." I want the first thing you hear ever day is my love for you, so that you may not question it... you thought back to his past words, "...It'll all be over soon," Jayce whispered seemingly to himself as you nodded along. You hated every string attached to those words, you were not ready to say goodbye just yet to it all but it was what had to be done to save so many...

─────── · ·

─ · · You both slowly got dressed in separate corners of the room and walked side by side, un-touching on your way to the council room where Viktor stood waiting for you both. Guards nodded towards you all before opening the doors to the room already in shambles. Fingers were being pointed, hair pulled, wine spilled over the stone like blood dripping off the jagged edges.

You and Jayce looked at one another, foreheads pressing together in a lingering kiss of minds but just as you took a step back, watching as Jayce began to walk up the steps, the room stirring to silence. Jayce paused, hand extending and flexing in a silent ask, and how could you refuse after it all?

You took small strides before grasping his hand in the support he needed with his head hung low. You reached your hand out to grasp Viktor's as you all moved towards to the head of the table and took your seats. The words were spoken to yells and shouts. It was war, the screaming, the stares and then the peace as hand by hand rose and just as Jayce moved your connected hands up... the last thing you could hear was a scream.

─────── · ·

─ · · Jayce woke up, his arm killing him as he quickly turned around the room, hearing vicious laughter echoing in the back of his mind. He was in hyper-drive, hands shaking as he faced the broken window at his back before feeling something roll down to touch his foot, half of a spray-painted broken smile mocked him on a piece of metal that he kicked aside with a shout before looking at the rest of the destruction and corpses before him.

Floodlights entered the space, enforcers yelled for support and to lock down the city as Jayce staggered seeing his old mentors, peers, Viktor... all dead but still no sight of you. Mel shook herself, shoving a scrap piece of metal off her body with a shout before standing with a wobble, she looked towards Jayce as the man looked to be loosing himself.

Jayce started to laugh, tears streaming down his face as he searched desperately for you, I was supposed to protect you, Jayce felt besides himself in sickness, no, no, no, you could not be dead- he wouldn't allow it, he refused.

"(NAME)!" Jayce shouted in a panic before feeling a hand on his arm, his head snapped over, eyes hopeful before disappointed that rocked Mel to her core. "Jayce," she said softly before Jayce was ripping her touch off of him and shouting your name again and again.

Mel cupped her hands to her chest, her heart aching for her friend and peer as he gripped at his hair, he started to smile, turning to face her with wide eyes, "she's not here," Jayce laughed having officially lost it, "She-she's not here," he laughed so hard, falling to his knees before crying and rocking himself. I need her, I need her, my girl, mine, where are you? Please, you are all I ask for, ever have, I never wanted any of this...

His head flicked back over to Viktor's lifeless self as he felt numb, just staring blankly as Mel knelt in front of him, tears streaming down her own cheeks as she didn't know what to do, how to help. "Jayce, he's gone, Viktor's gone... please, we have to get to safety." Jayce shakes his head, "No, she deserves to be here with us, she did nothing wrong! It should have been me!" Jayce shouts, the cold touch of morning air caressing his cheek.

"You can't save her if you are still here, Jayce. Please, we can go find her right afterwards, we just have to leave now," Mel's words appear to knock sense back into the man before her as he picks up Viktor's hand one last time, pressing it above his heart, his eyes widen feeling a light pulse and next thing he knows... he was running

─────── · ·

─ · · The first thing you could hear was a chainsaw that had your brain and heart kickstarting away. Your eyes opened, hissing from the swinging light above your head. A green goo slipped down your cheek and onto your pant legs. You could feel their heavy breath on your head as they yelled into your ear, "I can't wait to watch the life slip from your eyes so that he knows what he took from me, he feels my pain."

You shook in your seat, trying to escape your bindings but with no use. You cried, trying to shake the chair side to side yet it was welded to the floor. "Jayce!" you called out begging, their cackles carved out your heart as they mocked you, "Jayce! Jayce!" they wined and pleaded in your face, the moving blade catching a part of your shoe as you screamed.

"Save your voice for the show, little one. You are going to need it for when every topside member see's there beloved (first/name) (last/name) die right in front of them. Oh what a show it will be!"

─────── · ·

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff

─ · · A/N: please don't hate me! I gave fluff right... right?

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

[angels-hideaway]

𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱 III

Chapter I ;; Chapter II

vampire!Caitlyn Kiramman x peasant!fem! Reader

c/w: descriptions of gore, blood etc. intoxication, mild nsfw. Reader has comphet too.

w/c: 6.2k

a/n: ITS FINALLY HERE! Sorry it took long, I was going back and forth on a lot of things and even caught some writers block😵‍💫. I’m happy I could get it out to everyone though! Thank you for all the support on this personal fantasy fic!

summary: As you and Caitlyn finally confront your feelings for each other, ghosts from your past return, leading you to commit an atrocity you can’t take back. SONGS: waltz no.2 by Cihat Aşkin, albinoni/Arr. Giazotto: Adagio in G minor, Melting Waltz by Abel Korzeniowski, Vocalise, Op. 34, no. 14 by sergi Rachmaninoff, A Heart Made of Yarn by Franz Gordon. (Happy listening!)

“Wait for me!” You yelled for the boy in front of you. Cassian, your friend, was already racing through the woods. A small branch in his hand. “Ugh, all you girls are so slow!” He pouts, finally stopping for you to catch up. “I’m not slow! This dress is just not good for running…” you mumbled. Cassian grabbed your hand and led you towards the castle. “The adults never let us come up here…They say a vampire lives inside.”

You admired the beautiful gothic architecture with awe. “A vampire?” Your eyes were wide with childlike wonder and curiosity. “I’d sure like to meet them.” Cassian’s face contorts. “Meet them? I’d like to kill’em! This branch probably won’t do though…” he tosses it away. “I’ll need something bigger. I’ll make a fine vampire hunter when I grow up! And you’ll be my wife.” His chest puffs up with confidence.

“But I don’t-” 

“oh it’s okay. I’ll take care of you!” He cuts you off. “Okay…”

Your eyes flickered open. Now awake from your dream, you remember Cassian. A childhood friend who pursued you relentlessly. As he grew up, he became overbearing and pushy. You once convinced yourself that you were in love with him, but it wasn’t working. You never once felt love for anyone, but you wanted to. Being unmarried at your age was already unusual. You tried to love Cassian, but no matter how much time you spent with him, you couldn’t.

 As your senses woke, you noticed that there was a strange weight on top of you. When you attempted to sit up and  look to your side tiredly, you were met with Caitlyn’s glowing blue eyes. She grinned before pushing you to lie back down. “Let’s stay like this. Don’t move.” You were too tired to argue. You could feel her shift to listen to your heart beat. “You’re so sweet like this… All cozy and warm.” She moves again to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you in to her. “Caitlyn?” She presses her forehead to yours. “Yes, dear?” 

“Uhm.. what are you doing?” She makes a strange face, but replies “I’m just spending time with you. Before I feed.” 

“That’s tonight?” She nods, breathing in the scent of your hair. 

“I’ve been waiting all week. I can’t get enough of you.” She traces your body with one hand that stops on your hip. “Do you enjoy being a vampire?” You ask. “You’re always so excited when it’s time.” She stops and thinks for a moment. “I wouldn’t say I enjoy it. I simply get to enjoy some unorthodox benefits. Like watching you slowly weaken underneath me, like a wilting rose in my garden.” 

“That’s quite poetic…” your eyes meet her in an intense stare.

She sits up, and cages you beneath her. Her bare arms are on either side of your head, and it’s only then you notice she’s almost completely naked. Her shirt isn’t buttoned all the way, and you can see all the way down to the start of her stomach. “What? Never seen a body besides your own?” She notices your strange reaction. Caitlyn seems comfortable with nudity. “No it’s just, that makes this a lot more intimate.” 

“I suppose it does. Are you okay with that?” Her sly grin makes your heart stir. She knows what she’s doing to you. “Uhm, yes.” 

“That’s my girl.” She hugs you gently, before dragging her tongue up the side of your neck. She was being very sensual tonight. “Well, wherever you’re ready.” You tell her. Caitlyn lays you back down and lays next to you herself. She stays like that for a while, just relaxing before rolling on top of you, and pinning your arms above your head. “So helpless. I love fragile little creatures.” 

Her teeth sink into your neck like they belong there. She reciprocates any sound you make with one of her own. You’ll whine in pain, and she’ll groan in pleasure. Your body begins to feel fuzzy again, and you wrap your arms around Caitlyn’s bare back to hold you steady. Every time she’s fed from you, she drinks more each time. Her body tenses and twitches whenever you make a sound of pleasure from the drug controlling your psyche. 

Your arms fall back to your sides, and Caitlyn seizes the opportunity to intertwine her fingers with yours like clockwork. When she finally releases you, she sighs and brushes the stray hair from your face. “You sound so beautiful when you’re in pain. I can’t decide if it’s prettier than the sounds you make when you’re high off venom.” She lies back down and cradles you against her.

“Caitlyn?” That was the longest she’s ever bitten you, meaning this is the most venom you’ve ever had in your system. You can feel it coursing through your veins, and altering your thoughts. You almost enjoy the sensation of being high from it. You’re Caitlyn’s. The crest you still wear around your neck proves that. You’re her blood bank, forever. Meanwhile she’s gazing at you with hazy eyes. “What’s going through your head right now, my dear? Tell me.” She gets up and squeezes out a wet rag on the table next to the bed.

“Caitlyn…” you mumble as she places the cool rag on your forehead. “Oh really? Is that all?” She checks your pulse. “Again. Do it again. Take as much as you want. Drain me, please.” She relishes in your desperate words and sighs in satisfaction. “Aww, I wish I could. Unfortunately doing that may risk never tasting you again, so I’ll have to decline. Now, get some rest.” She kisses your forehead, leaving a lip stain of  your own blood.

That wasn’t the first of many odd interactions. Just yesterday, she left a bouquet of fresh roses at your door for you when you woke up. It’s also become a habit of hers to go out at night and surprise you with new dresses and luxuries. The breakfasts you wake up to become more elaborate too.

Sometimes, she’d dance with you at night too. She’d just be in her study and get up, make her way to wherever you’re seated, bow, kiss your hand, and ask: “May I have this dance?” Then, she’d dance with you slowly, holding your hand gently, with her other arm around your waist. She does this while looking at you like you’re the only woman in the world. There wouldn’t even be any music most of the time. Sometimes she’d hum a song, or sometimes she’d just dance with you in silence.

Is it possible that Caitlyn is in love with you? But that would mean that you’re her one and only. The book said so. Kiramman vampires love one and never again. What would you do if that really was the case? 

“Darling? Are you awake?” Caitlyn peers into your room one night. She comes inside and sits at the side of your bed. “Is something the matter, Caitlyn?” She shakes her head no. “I’m just checking on you. Any more nightmares?” She rests one hand on your thigh. “Not recently. I think I’m okay now.” She starts to rub up and down your thigh through the blankets. “That’s good…” She squeezes gently. 

“Caitlyn, I had a question.” You sit up and prop yourself against some pillows. “Feel free to ask me anything, darling.”  She smiles reassuringly. “If a vampire fell in love, what would happen?” You knew the answer already from the book, but you just wanted to see what she would say. “If I fell in love?…Well, I’d treat them very well and love them forever. I can only love one person in my life, so they would be my everything.” She doesn’t break eye contact the whole time she says that. “And you?” She says. “What?”

“What would happen if a sweet girl like you fell in love?” She’s smiling softly. “I’m nothing special, so nothing fantastical like having one true love or anything like you… I suppose I would want to be with them. Maybe I’d be too shy to ask, or maybe I’d be forward and tell them as soon as I figured out how I felt.”

“Really? How wonderful it must be to fall in love. I never knew that sort of love in my life. I only knew lust.” She looks remorseful. You question further. “Never in your human life did you fall in love? Not with any of your uhm, partners?”

“No. Maybe I could have, but that wasn’t what I was looking for. All I wanted was that feeling watching a girl unravel beneath me provided. Power, maybe?” She thinks on it some more, but looks back to you with renewed curiosity. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?” 

“Me? Well, not exactly.”

“That’s a strange answer. It’s usually a yes or a no.”

“Well, I would say yes, but I think it was more so me wanting to feel love. There was someone: a boy named Cassian.” Caitlyn looks very focused on your story. “And you loved him?”

“I wanted to. I never felt romantic love for anyone. I wanted to, but it just never happened. I think something’s…wrong with me.” Caitlyn comes to your side and brings you into a hug. “Nothing is wrong with you.” She hugs you tighter. “You just didn’t love him, and that’s okay. I’m confident that somewhere, there’s someone who loves you very much…”

“Caitlyn.” You lean into her grasp, and she lays you down gently. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I love you, if that counts for anything.” She drags one thumb over your bottom lip. “Someone so kind and understanding of me, someone who doesn’t run away.” Her hair falls onto your face

“You love me too, don’t you? Please say you do.” She lowers herself to lie on top of you in a smothering hug. “ I think I do.”

“That’s enough for me, my love. Let me cherish you here, forever.” Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. Your eyes are still open just from the surprise, but Caitlyn’s fingers dragging over your face urge you to close them. She kisses you with as much hunger as she does love. Her fangs scratch your lips, and the taste of your own blood taints the taste of her kiss. 

When the two of you part, a thin, string of saliva still connects you. Caitlyn’s lips look glossy and you can feel her breath on your face. There’s a moment of silence where she gazes at you with eyes filled with adoration. “Thank you.” She whispers. 

When you wake up in the morning, Caitlyn is asleep. She’s nocturnal, so you leave her in bed. She kissed you. She kissed you hard. You raise your hand to your lips, and touch them gently. You can even feel the little cut left by Caitlyn’s fangs. You were her one and only love. She loved you. The thought made you feel like swooning. 

That evening, you hear the soft meow of Whisper, and see the cat appear from a dark hall. “Whisper? Is something the matter?” The cat seems tense. Her fur is raised and pupils dilated.

You follow the cat up the stairs to the balcony of the castle. “Whisper?” The cat stops. Walking out onto the balcony, you look out over the village and the woods. It’s only sunset, but you can see a trail of smoke rising from the direction of Crows-Wood. It had to be a fire, but the village wasn’t burning. A bonfire. You can feel your stomach drop with dread. Crows-wood only threw large bonfire parties before a hunt. Not just any vampire hunt though, they were sending off a group. You remember them distinctly. The people chugging ale and screaming at the top of their lungs, the vampire corpses and caricatures being paraded on sticks, and the slew of weapons the hunters were preparing to head off with. You always stayed inside during these just because they disturbed you so much. Who could celebrate the murder of anything with such fervor?

A group of vampire hunters were being rallied to head this very way to kill Caitlyn. When you realize this, you rush back to your bedroom, with Whisper following. “Caitlyn! Caitlyn wake up, please!” You shook her cold body into waking. She was still in your bed, sleeping as peacefully as when you left her. That was the case until your frantic shaking and tears woke her. “Darling please, what’s the matter?” She takes your hands gently to stop them from shaking her. “Crows-Wood! A bonfire they’re- they’re-”

“Shhh, my love.” She sits up and pulls you in against her chest. “Calm down. You can explain once you’ve done that.” Whisper leaps onto the bed and settles next to Caitlyn. 

“Now, speak slowly and tell me what’s going on.” You pull away from Caitlyn and look her in the eyes. “Crows-Wood is sending a group of hunters this way. I saw them celebrating over a bonfire.” Caitlyn’s expression grows grim. “How many do they usually send in a group?” You try and recall from your memories. “Uhm… five or six.” Caitlyn sighs. “I can take them, but I’ll need your help.”

“What do you need!? I’ll do anything.” She smiles at you and brushes your hair away from your neck. “I hate to ask this of you, but I’m at my strongest when I drink human blood.” 

“Of course! Take as much as you need.” You pull your dress down to expose your shoulder. The night has fully set in now. Caitlyn’s hand brushes your cheek, and she pulls you in for a kiss. She pulls herself back from your lips to kiss your chin, and continues down to leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. “Caitlyn…” You whisper her name into the room that’s growing ever darker. She nuzzles into the crook of your neck before biting down. Her hands wander down your body, to the small of your back to palm at your rear. Her touch is gentle, but firm.

When she’s finished, she lifts you bridal style and leaves your bedroom. “It’d be too easy to find you here. I’m sure it’s you they’re really after. I’ll bring you to my room.” You’re semi-conscious during the walk there. Caitlyn’s bedroom is” deeper into the castle. She sets you down on a large bed that smells like her. Old fragrances and roses.“Promise me you won’t move. Please just stay here.” She tucks your intoxicated body into the blankets, and leaves. 

You’re woken by the sound of screaming, stomach-twisting wails of pain, and crashes. You’re still high off of the venom, but you stumble out of Caitlyn’s bed to see what’s going on. You’re vision is swimming and you’re feet feel heavy. You have to get to Caitlyn. She needs you. You need her. 

“They’re here.”

The hunters have arrived, and are fighting with Caitlyn as you lean on walls to navigate the castle. She told you not to move, but you couldn’t just lie there and hope she came back alive. You wanted to help. How would you help in the state you were in? Even you didn’t know. You’d manage somehow. By the time you make it to the stairs, you can see the gory display. Three men lie dead on the floor, choking on their own blood as it seeps from gashes in their throats. Their faces are forever expressing regret and horror. The two left are injured, but Caitlyn seems to be tired too. She’s holding up well, but you can tell her energy has depleted. 

“Where is she!? If you’ve killed her I’ll drag you out into the sun come daylight!” An all too familiar voice screams out. Cassian? He’s part of the group? “I’d never lay a finger on her.” Caitlyn rasps, grabbing the other assailant and crushing his throat to fleshy mush in her bare hand. The sickening sight is followed by the snap of his bones. All the times she’s touched you, she’s been perfectly capable of something like that. Cassian yells out in rage, and charges at Caitlyn, wooden steak in hand. Caitlyn seems ready to defend herself until he pulls a small wooden cross from his pocket. The sound of Caitlyn’s scream surprised you. She sounds horrified. So crosses really do affect vampires that much. Caitlyn loses her footing and falls back.

No. This can’t be happening. She killed four of them and the last one standing will manage to kill her? And Cassian of all people? You had to do something. Caitlyn looks melancholic on the ground. It’s like she could get up, but won’t. She just lies there as Cassian aims his wooden steak at her heart. 

Neither of them noticed you rushing down the stairs.

With a gut wrenching scream, you plunge a dagger from a dead man’s hands into his back. Cassian barely has any life left to turn around and look at you. “You’re…alive.” He utters before falling to the ground. Still lost in the venom and your fear, you continue to stab his dead body over and over and over again, screaming all the while. You finally stop when Caitlyn pulls the dagger from your hands, and brings you into a tight hug. “No no no this was never supposed to happen.” She whispers. You sob into her chest from the shock and repulsion. You killed a man. Not just any man, but one you knew since childhood. One who came all this way to rescue you. 

“Darling look at me please, look at me.” Caitlyn wipes your tears with her thumbs and forces you to look at her. Shes looking at you like she doesn’t recognize you. “He was going to kill you I- I couldn’t let him take you away from me!” You’re spouting nonsense as you try to make sense of your impulsive action. “Shh shh shh..” Caitlyn just urges you to be quiet, and hugs you close. You can taste his blood in your mouth. “I- I’ll run you a hot bath, and we can soak together okay? It’s okay.” Caitlyn clearly is not sure what to do with you. You killed for her. Something so much more than a flimsy declaration of love. 

 You’re seated between Caitlyn’s legs as she hugs you from behind while you both soak in the hot bath. You haven’t said a word since you killed Cassian. Caitlyn is concerned. Every so often, she’ll attempt to coax a conversation out of you. “Are you hurt anywhere?” Silence. You cannot speak. “… This might not be the right time, but thank you. At that moment, when I was there on the ground, I was just so…” Her voice breaks. “Tired. Tired of fighting, of hiding, I just was ready to die. But then I remembered you. I remembered that I didn’t want to leave you, because I love you.” She holds you tighter, making the water slosh around the bathtub. You can feel her chin on your head, and her breasts against your back. “But it was too late. I was on the ground, and a wooden steak was inches from my heart. That’s when you attacked him. I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. I wish you didn’t have to do that, and part of me wishes I had died instead of staining your hands with blood, but thank you.” 

She lifts you out of the bath, and drys you off herself. Caitlyn doesn’t take you to your bedroom that night, she lets you sleep in her bed with her. She doesn’t bother putting a nightgown on you, and just leaves you in your underwear. She talks you to sleep, before leaving to clean up the mess of blood and dead bodies. When she returns to bed, sitting at your side, Caitlyn does something she thought to be impossible.

She cries.

She can hardly believe it herself when she feels the first tear roll down her cheek, but they don’t stop. She shouldn’t be able to cry. She can’t. Her body is frozen in time, unable to produce blood, tears, waste, anything. So why is she crying? Since turning, this is Caitlyn’s first time crying for someone besides herself. Her first tears that didn’t stem from selfishness, but from how overwhelmingly guilty she felt for what you did for her. She doesn’t try and stop them, but just lets her tears fall. Caitlyn goes to sleep that night with you by her side, feeling a little more human than normal.

You wake up screaming. There’s blood everywhere. On your hands, in your mouth, and even in your eyes. Cold arms pull you back down to the bed and hold you steady. “Shhh my love. I’m sorry…” You manage to calm yourself, and relax into Caitlyn’s arms. “This is all my fault.” She whispers. “No please don’t blame yourself. I did what I did all on my own.” You reply. “Caitlyn, do you think we have to leave the castle?” Caitlyn seems to be thinking. 

“Maybe, but for now, I think we’re safe.” She intertwined her legs with yours beneath the sheets. Her lips find yours in a soft kiss. Her fingers thread through your hair, and between kisses she whispers. “I love you. I’m grateful for what you did, even if I wish it hadn’t happened. I’m truly sorry.”

“That was him.” You admitted.

“What?” Caitlyn’s lost. “That was the man I told you about. The one I tried to love.” Caitlyn gasps quietly. “I see.” She’s avoiding your gaze. “He was looking for you. That whole time he kept badgering me on what he’d do if I hurt you.” She sounds annoyed. “Honestly, it seems like he loved you. He wanted you back from me. He said you were his.” Her tone sounds angry, yet collected. 

When Caitlyn notices you’re asleep again, she sighs and kisses your lips once more before laying you down. 

When you wake up, Caitlyn’s asleep. Whisper is meowing at the end of the bed. You feel a bit better after all the commotion last night. It’s still hard to believe you killed anyone. Heading downstairs, you check to see if the bodies and carnage are still there. It’s not. Caitlyn must have cleaned it. Killing Cassian almost felt like being born again yourself. It was as if you truly accepted yourself for what you were, standing there, covered in his blood. Someone who could never love a man, no matter how much he urged you to. Every time he stated you’d marry him, the advances he’d make, offerings to your parents, and shouting matches that ended in your tears came crashing down. 

You had decided where you stood the moment you stabbed him. Going against your own people for a vampire. You wanted to stay with Caitlyn forever, and that’s something humanity wouldn’t allow. You’d ask her to turn you into one of her own tonight. You’d be a vampire too.

That night, you wait up for Caitlyn. As usual, she comes into your room to check on you. “Awake this late, my love?” She joins you on your bed, guiding you to lean your head on her shoulder. “Caitlyn, Would it be possible for me to become a vampire?” She freezes. “Why would you want to do that?” 

“I abandoned my humanity the moment I killed Cassian. I want to be with you forever, even if it means becoming a monster.” Caitlyn looks at you fondly. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. Sure you’ve killed, but so have many men. Asking to be like me is asking to be forsaken by god. Besides, I’d never get to taste your blood that way again.” 

“A vampire can’t drink another vampires blood?” She laughs. “No. When my family was still around, we tried that. Vampires need the blood of others because we can no longer produce any ourselves. There’s no blood to take from me, or any other vampire.” An explanation that makes sense. You’re proposal sounded foolish now. 

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been in my right mind.” Caitlyn strokes your back reassuringly. “I understand. Back when I killed for the first time, I was horrified by myself. The difference between you and me is that you don’t need to kill again. I shouldn’t have to either, yet the people of Crows-Wood insist on making me. I was ready to give up, and just let them kill me.” She sounds exhausted. She’s been alive for more than a century, and the whole time she’s been hunted. You can’t even imagine the stress and fear. Before all of this, you thought she had nothing to be afraid of. Safe to say your views have changed.

“I don’t think dying would have been much better.” You say. Caitlyn scoffs. “I’ve been dead a long time. Death comes for us all. In the end, we’re all equal in the eyes of death. Something that life hasn’t granted me.” 

“But doesn’t it scare you?”

“I stopped fearing it a long time ago. It doesn’t matter how scared you are, because every death is equally tragic. Even for those some consider evil.” You sit there in silence with her, letting the words she spoke swim around in your head. “I’m lucky I got to meet you though.” She kisses your cheek. “I’m happy I met you too.” You return with a kiss to her lips. It’s almost like you can’t stop kissing each other. The kiss grows and continues, until Caitlyn’s on top of you. Her hands are in your hair and you can feel her tongue in your mouth. You don’t stop kissing her until it’s physically impossible for you to continue. Caitlyn watches you gasp for breath with that same hazy expression like when she feeds. 

“I should leave.” She huffs. “Why? I was thinking that since I couldn’t become a vampire like you, that we could at least…” she stops you with a finger to your lips. “Please don’t say what I think you’re trying to. You must remember that I’m still a creature who runs on her instincts at the end of the day. I don’t know if I could do that with you without getting you hurt. Sex is what made me this way in the first place.” You reach out to cup her face in your hands. “But that was when it was purely for your pleasure alone, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to take the chance. No matter how much I’d like to.” She tears her gaze away from you and sits up at the edge of your bed. You feel a wave of disappointment wash over you.

“Caitlyn I’m sure it’ll be fine. Please?” You follow her and wrap your arms around her from behind. “Darling, please don’t entice me. I’d love to, really, but I just don’t want to hurt you. Please just get some sleep okay? It’s getting late for a human to be awake.” She pries your hands off of her and stands up. “Sweet dreams, my love. I’ll be here if you need me.” And just like that, she leaves. 

Caitlyn wanted you badly, but she couldn’t let herself falter. Make the same mistake she did a century ago, and use you for her own benefit. Caitlyn’s back slid down the door as she sat down on the floor, pressing her fingers to her temple in thought. She already was using you. Using you like cattle that she could feed off of. Caitlyn wants to love you, but her past won’t leave her alone. She can’t tell if she loves you, or if she’s reverted to her past ways. She stands up and rests her forehead against your door. How she longed to go back, but she knew what would happen if she did. Hesitantly, she leaves to go read and distract herself. 

You fall back on your bed with a sigh of frustration. You couldn’t force her. You went to sleep that night with a new way to think of death, and a burning desire for the one who inspired that way of thought. Sleep didn’t come easy that night. After tossing and turning, and many fantasies of your vampire lover, you finally got some rest.

In the days that pass, Caitlyn certainly notices your increasingly clingy state. She tries not to think about it, or what it implies at all, but it’s almost impossible. She wants to make sure that she loves you for who you are, and not just the lust she feels. 

The next few days are peaceful. There are no raging mobs or groups of men marching up the mountain to have Caitlyn’s head, and you can finally sleep at night without thinking about murder. That is until you hear the sound of a glass bottle shattering in the night, waking you and Whisper up instantly. 

The cat hisses and slips out of your bedroom, and you follow. You follow the sound of glass being swept, and end up at the old wine cellar underneath the castle. Caitlyn is cleaning up glass shards as blood seeps into the stone flooring. When she notices you, she looks embarrassed. “Did I wake you? My apologies.” Once all the glass is cleaned she stares at the blood in defeat. “How am I meant to clean this?… a mop I suppose.” She gets a mop and begins to sop the liquid up. “Are you feeling alright?” Caitlyn shakes her head no. “It’s a full moon tonight. So far I’ve been this way without you noticing, but cravings get worse on nights like these. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped a bottle.” 

“What kind of blood is that?” She stops moving. “It’s…cow’s.” Something tells you it’s not cow’s blood. Maybe a humans? You hope not.

“Alright.” You decide not to pry. “It’s only two or three more days until you can drink from me. If you want, we could just do it earlier if the craving is that bad.” She whirls around. “Absolutely not. In this state, I’d loose control almost instantly. I could kill you.” Her hands start shaking again. “Uhm, I can finish cleaning, and you can get a drink.” You propose. She nods hastily and drops the mop, instantly moving to sort through her array of bottles. When she choose one, she doesn’t even bother to pour it in the glass. She just drinks straight from the bottle.

She sighs in relief when she finally puts the bottle down, and it’s almost completely empty. A little bit of blood is running down her chin and her chest is heaving. “Don’t look at me, please. Stay away before I lose my mind.” She genuinely seems ashamed of her behavior.  “Caitlyn, is there anything I can do to help?” You approach her slowly. She sets down the bottle and uses a handkerchief from the table to wipe the blood from her chin. “Help me? Oh, I don’t think there’s any way you can. Just don’t come near me until tomorrow night.” Her voice is unsteady, and her eyes can’t seem to focus on your face. 

“I think I’ll go lay down.” Caitlyn excuses herself and leaves the cellar. You finish cleaning, and decide to go search for her. You find Caitlyn in her bed on her stomach, with her arms hugging a pillow that her face is buried in. “Caitlyn?”

“Yes?” She looks up and over her shoulder at you. Her eyes look tired and she’s paler than usual. “You look sick. Are you really okay? There’s nothing I can do?” She merely pats the free space on the bed next to her. That’s all you needed to see. As you make your way towards her, something about Caitlyn feels off. You sit down on the bed next to her, and she doesn’t react at all. You’re caught off guard when she suddenly cages you against her chest with her arms. Her strength is uncanny, but steady. You trust she won’t hurt you by applying too much force. 

“I told you to stay away.”

“I was worried. You’re acting strange.” 

“Strange? I’m already a vampire. I don’t know how I could get stranger.” You try to pull away from her, but her hold on you is iron clad. “Why are you holding me so tightly?” You’re a little annoyed by her. Caitlyn tries to relax her grip, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. “Like I said. I run on instinct. I’m not human. Right now, my body wants to suck you dry because of that wretched moon. That’s why I can’t let go. It’s torture.” You try and relax your muscles to make this less uncomfortable for you. “And nothing I can do could make it less unbearable?” 

“Maybe if you left, and I didn’t see you, but I don’t think that’s an option anymore.” 

She slowly leans into your face, pressing her forehead to yours and sighing. “You smell so good…” her voice is still shaking, and her hands follow suit. “Uhm, thank you.” 

“I’d never hurt you on purpose, you know that right?” Her arms finally loosen, and move to begin undoing your dress. “Uhm-yes I know.”

“So would you be okay if I bit you early? I know I said I wouldn’t but damn it all. I promise I won’t take a lot. I’ll be gentle.” She says between kissing down your collar bone, and forcing you to lay down. The kisses make you irrational. All you want is for her to give you more.

“Yes, that’s fine. Just a small bite.” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy her sucking you blood. The practice felt like you were closer to her than ever before. The pain felt good, and the pleasure even better. It was sacred, and intimate. Caitlyn pulls down your dress to expose your breasts to the cool castle air. Her fingers trace over the buds of your nipples, making them harden quickly. “You’re not biting my neck?” Caitlyn chuckles. “Mm, I’ve gotten quite tired of that. I want to bite you somewhere else. Somewhere more personal.” She lifts you with her arm around your lower back. Your back is arched, and your chest is completely vulnerable to her. You can feel Caitlyn’s tongue glide around your right breast until it settles on your nipple. When she bites down on the surrounding flesh, you whine in pain, but the hurt quickly disintegrates as her venom is pumped straight into your veins.

Caitlyns eyes never look away from you, and the longer she’s latched onto you, the brighter her eyes glow. When she finally lets go, your breast is left cold and wet with her saliva. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help it..” She’s more herself after receiving human blood. She adjusts your dress so you’re covered again. “You’re irresistible. Not to mention how fast your heart was beating. You can feel it too can’t you? How fast it’s going?” Sure enough, you think your heart may burst from your chest. You feel euphoric. “I think you like this. The blood sucking I mean. Just look at your face right now.” She chuckles and checks your pulse as usual. “This isn’t good. This isn’t the first time I’ve broken our rules.” She sounds like she’s talking to herself more than to you. “From now on, I’ll never break the rules again. I’ll never feed off of you off schedule ever.”

And she tries. She really does try, but sometimes the tension between you two is unbearable. Sometimes, Caitlyn will shut herself in her room just to avoid giving in again. You’re doing okay physically though, as long as she doesn’t do it more than four times in a row. When you get dressed in the morning, or undressed at night, you’re body is littered in bruises and bite marks. She’s gotten into the habit of biting you in unconventional places. Your arms, thighs (a favorite), and more. Not all of them are from blood sucking, some are just hickies. Caitlyn’s tried to just mark you normally as a way of “simulating” what it’d be like to actually bite you. You never thought you’d be in a relationship with someone who craves you so carnally. You’ll spot her looking at you like she wants to eat you alive from time to time. Her ice blue eyes burn through you, making you feel bare and exposed before her. The lingering touches, the soft, quiet times, and even the violent, intense moments all combine to create an addicting kind of love. 

It’s one of Whispers favorite things to do to interrupt a heavy kiss with a meow, before pouncing on either you or Caitlyn’s lap to whine for attention. Caitlyn would huff in frustration, but give in to the black cat and stroke her velvety-soft fur for a while.

You’ve gotten into the habit of waking up insanely early just to lie with Caitlyn as she goes to sleep for the day. You’ll lie there while she holds you close, like a child does their favorite toy. When she’s asleep, sometimes you’ll stay and just enjoy the early morning hours by her side. When whisper gets tired of waiting for breakfast, she’ll meow until you gently remove yourself from Caitlyn’s arms, and get started with your day.

Taglist: @starryeyes-7 @caitlynsbathwater @halle5s @riotstemple29 @mxchi-mxxn @thinkviolets @commanderraccoon @madalinee @gwscloq @seisei18 @paigeilicous @cottagegirlworld-blog @cenizajskp @kittymrtnezz69 @jiryelle @vivienneswhispers @all-things-lilac @marve1stranger @trulysapphic @b7ue8erry @poeticrenaissance @whatthefuckisthisapppppp @girlsatourbest @st0nerlesb0 @butchpuppyy @yearningandstillnotlearning @eyehatesex @sunsetzzzzzzz @kaylovesmatcha @venuswarmlight @mellowdreamlandpost-blog

[stylesispunk]

Blind faith | part x (part 1/2)

Priest!Joel Miller x dancer!reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: Joel and you fall back into each other with an aching need. You begin to piece together a hopeful future from broken pieces. One where home is no longer a place but a person.

w.c: 4k>

Warnings: smut (sloppy, you know, is not my best thing to write about) fluff, angst, them being honest with each other. I didn't proofread this one, but I'm sure there are no mistakes because I don't feel too stupid today. The picture I used is only for reference.

A/N: This is part 1 out of 2 of chapter 10. A more emotional chapter for my couple here. I owed you a fluffy chapter. I already told you I'm about to end this story and it will become a manuscript :) Thank you all so much for reading this story. It's my favorite child. Reblogs and comments are always important for me.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Kissing Joel again felt like having air coming back to your lungs after months of drowning in the ocean. Back at belonging, at having a home to come back to. At gathering every shattered part of you that had scattered to the wind the days you left no having a clue if you were ever going to see him one more time.

At this very moment, his touch, his breath, the rough scrape of his stubble against your skin, you had found a flicker of flame rising.

His hands roamed your body like he’d never forgotten a single inch of it, like memory alone had kept him alive this long. One slid to the small of your back, the other to your jaw, holding you there like you might vanish away.

And then, after breaking the kiss, he slowly, without leaving your gaze, he knelt in front of you.

Right there, in the dim light of his modest apartment, with the scent of tea cooling in the air and the city humming beyond the terrace.

His big, calloused hands traced down your hips to your thighs, settling there like he belonged. Like this wasn’t a man who'd worn a collar and spoke of sin, but one who was ready to worship something else entirely now.

You felt your breath hitch, your heart pounding in your chest so loud you wondered if he could hear it.

And he looked up at you, eyes filled with something raw and aching and so tender it almost undid you, and said, voice rough, “I ain’t ever letting you go again.”

He kissed your stomach just over your bottom belly, while your hands scrapped his hair and his hands caressed your skin underneath your shirt, leaving kisses and lowering and following down towards a really dangerous place.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, lifting his face to yours. The moment your eyes met, the air thickened, heavy with every unsaid word and every night spent alone. You didn’t hesitate, you simply couldn’t.

You claimed his lips, tasting him like a memory you’d been dying to relive, like salvation wrapped in ruin.

You both had descent your way back and forth to hell just to meet again.

Joel groaned against your mouth, a wrecked sound, his hands gripping your thighs before lifting you effortlessly. It was instinct, muscle memory, the way your legs wrapped around his waist like they’d never forgotten how.

His mouth was still on yours when he stood, one hand fisting the back of your shirt, the other splayed against your thigh, and you clung to him like you’d drown if you let go.

You barely noticed when your back met the wall, his body pressed against yours, mouths moving like it was the only language either of you had left to speak.

“I missed you,” you breathed, the words breaking between kisses, your hand cupping his jaw like you could tether yourself to him that way.

“God, baby,” Joel rasped, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath shaky. Principio del formulario

Final del formulario

He carried you through the little apartment like you already belonged there.

perhaps, you already did.

The sound of your breath, the rough rasp of his voice, the ghost of old prayers neither of you believed in anymore hanging between you.

This wasn’t a kind salvation. It was something bigger.

You landed on his bed with a soft thud, his weight following yours, and for a moment neither of you moved, just breathing the same air, your foreheads pressed together, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek like he was memorizing you all over again, staring at each other after so many time apart.

The room smelled like him, like old wood and soap and something that had always felt lie safety.

Joel’s voice was rough, barely a whisper. “Been dreaming of you for so long.”

You reached up, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to ground yourself in this, in him, in now.  

His mouth was on yours again before words could even leave your lips, and this time it wasn’t careful. Right now, he was claiming a place where he had poured his soul and heart into. Years of his own ache mixed with yours, months of silence, of almost and regrets poured into the press of his lips, the scrape of his stubble, the weight of him holding you like you’d go away if he let go.

And God, maybe you would. But right now, you were here.

And you didn’t want you go anywhere.

Your fingers tightened in his hair as his mouth moved, trailing from your lips to the line of your jaw, then lower, the rough scrape of his stubble against the sensitive skin of your neck making your breath catch.

Joel groaned softly when you arched beneath him, his hands steady on your hips, thumbs pressing into the curve of your waist like he was still trying to convince himself this was real.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured against your throat, the words like a prayer, like a confession or those words he was used to say once.

But now, they hold a real truth beneath.

You tilted your head, giving him more, the ghost of a desperate laugh slipping out. “I do,” you whispered, your voice thick, one hand tracing the back of his neck. “I felt it… every night. Miles away, I felt you. I always felt you.”

His lips brushed the pulse pounding at your neck, lingering there, tasting the proof you were alive, you were his.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right,” Joel swore, voice cracking like something breaking open.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Your mouth found his again, kissing him like you meant it, like you’d been waiting all these months to come home to him.

Joel groaned into your mouth, kissing you like a starving man, desperate, bruising, reverent. His hands mapped every inch of you, relearning the weight and warmth of your body like it was something holy.

You tugged at his shirt, needing him closer, needing to feel skin against skin. He broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, tossing it aside before he was on you again, his mouth crashing to yours, his body heavy and solid above you.

Your fingers traced the lines of his shoulders, and stories you knew by heart. You kissed the spot just beneath his ear, felt him shudder, a curse falling from his lips.

“Missed you,” you whispered, the words spilling out raw and unguarded. “God, Joel…”

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard. “I am not whole without you. Don’t want to be.”

And then his mouth was on yours again, and nothing else existed, not the past, not the pain, not the months apart. Just him. Just you. And the unspoken promise you were both too wrecked and too in love to ever outrun.

Clothes scattered like discarded regrets across the floor in mere seconds. It was like shedding the weight of every ache you’d carried. Every lie you told yourself about moving on, about forgetting him. It was all gone now, scattered like ghosts at your feet.

His lips claimed your breasts before you could even get time to catch a breath from all the ectasis you were holding into.

The sounds escaping your lips made him wilder. They were desperate, raw, the kind of sounds born from months of missing someone so fiercely it carved you hollow.

Each noise you made only seemed to fuel him, make him rougher, needier, a man unraveling in real time.

“Jesus, darling,” he rasped, voice thick with want, with wrecked devotion. “You sound so beautiful.”

You could barely breathe, barely think beyond the feel of his mouth and his hands and the way your bodies fit together like some reckless, sacred thing.

And you knew, deep in the marrow of your bones, that no matter how hard either of you tried, you’d never be free of him.

You tugged at his hair, pulling his mouth back to yours, swallowing his groan as your lips crashed together. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t neat, it was messy, teeth clashing, breath ragged, all the ache and fury and unbearable tenderness of six months poured into that kiss.

His hand slid down your stomach, rough palm grazing your skin like he was relearning every inch of you by touch alone. When his fingers reached the heat of your core, you gasped against his mouth, your hips arching into his touch like instinct, like muscle memory belonging to him, like a need that had never really left.

“Goddamn,” Joel muttered against your lips, his voice rough, reverent. “Listen to those pretty sounds you make for me.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and for a moment the world was just that, the press of his mouth, the heat of his hands, the sound of his ragged breathing tangled with yours. Every stroke of his fingers was an apology and a promise all at once, and you found yourself unraveling, breaking open in his arms like you’d been waiting for this moment to happen.

When your forehead pressed to his, breath hot and mingling in the small space between you, you whispered, voice barely there, “Don’t stop, Joel.”

He broke the kiss, while his calloused hands trailed down your thighs as he knelt between them, eyes fixed on you like a ravenous man.

Your breath hitched as he hooked his hands under your knees, parting your legs and settling himself there like it was where he was meant to be, where you desperately needed him to be, not a man of faith anymore, but a man brought to his knees for something far holier.

You, your body, the claiming of you.

His mouth found your clit, and it was nothing but heat and tenderness and aching hunger. His tongue moved against you slow at first, savoring, tasting, learning you all over again. One of your hands buried in his hair, your hips arching into him, and the low, satisfied growl that rumbled from his chest nearly undid you.

“Joel—” your voice broke on his name, a plea and a prayer all at once.

He hummed against you, the vibration making your whole-body shudder. His tongue worked you with the kind of patience only he had, like he was content to spend forever here. Every flick, every slow circle felt like it was mending something in you, those cracked places he’d promised to water.

When you came apart for him, your body trembling, your fingers tightening in his hair, Joel didn’t stop. He held you through it, kissing you soft and slow, this wasn’t only about lust anymore, but love and forgiveness. About everything you’d both lost, and finally, finally found again.

When he finally lifted his head, his lips were slick, his eyes dark, and his smile a little crooked.

“You’re still mine,” he whispered.

Joel kissed his way up your body, each touch of his lips another vow he didn’t need words for. When he reached your mouth, you pulled him into a bruising kiss, tasting yourself on him, the salt and heat and hunger between you coiling tight.

“Please,” you whispered against his lips, the word catching on a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Joel didn’t need to be asked twice. He settled between your thighs, his hand cradling your cheek, gaze locking with yours in that way that made your chest ache. No priest, no sins, no ghosts of the past. Just Joel. Just the man who’d always been yours, whether either of you admitted it or not.

The first push of him inside you was slow, deliberate, a claiming, a homecoming. You both let out matching groans, the kind born from relief and ruin all tangled together. He filled you like he’d been made for it, like nothing had ever fit quite so right.

You clung to him, nails scraping his back, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that was both desperate and unhurried. Like you had all the time in the world, like you were making up for every second spent apart.

“God, baby,” Joel murmured, pressing his forehead to yours, his thrusts deep and unrelenting. “I’m not ever letting you go again.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, mix of pleasure and grief and love nearly unbearable.

“I’m here now,” you breathed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding the spot that made your body tighten around him, your head falling back with a cry. He watched you like a man witnessing something holy, like you were a prayer answered too late but all the same.

Your nails raked down his back as his hips pressed against yours, deep and steady, each movement a vow, a confession, a prayer. He murmured your name against your skin like it was sacred, like it was the only word he’d ever believed in. And you gave yourself to him, every scar, every ghost, every piece of the girl who’d been both lost and found in his arms.

When you fell over the edge, it was with his name on your lips, his hands grounding you, his body following you into that place of pleasure. And he stayed with you there, chasing his own release, a low, rough sound torn from his throat as he spilled inside you, burying his face in your neck.

For a long while, neither of you spoke, your hearts racing, limbs tangled, the world outside his apartment forgotten.

Then, in a voice so soft it made your chest ache, Joel whispered, “Welcome back home to me, baby.”

You closed your eyes at his words, your fingers still tracing lazy patterns along his back, feeling the tremble in him, the way he held onto you like he was afraid all of this was one of those dreams where he would wake up to an empty bed missing your warmth. It wasn’t just a place, wasn’t the walls or the worn-down furniture or the little plant on the windowsill. It was him. It had always been him.

The achilles heel, all over again.

You turned your face into his hair, breathing him in. “I didn’t think I’d ever have a home again,” you whispered, voice breaking on the last word.

Joel shifted, leaning up enough to meet your gaze, his hand cradling your face. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, and his eyes, dark brown, tender, a little shattered, a little whole, held yours like they could stitch your pieces back together.

“You will always have one,” he said quietly. “Right here.”

And with your forehead pressed to his, his breath mingling with yours, the ghosts quiet for the first time in six months.

Somewhere deep in the night, Joel startled awake, reaching for you instinctively, only to find the space beside him empty.

Panic gripped him sharp and fast. His feet hit the floor, heart pounding as he moved through the quiet apartment. It wasn’t until he reached the living room that he saw you, curled up on the couch, legs pulled to your chest, a mug of tea cradled in your hands.

Your gaze lifted to his, tired but soft, like you’d been waiting for him.

This sight felt so natural to him, like this was the life you both deserve. A quiet one.

Joel exhaled hard, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” he muttered, moving to crouch in front of you.

“For having been a priest, you curse a lot” you murmured, lips lifting in a small. “Couldn’t sleep,” you murmured, voice scratchy from hours ago, and from the weight of everything still unsaid between the both of you.

He touched your knee, thumb stroking over your skin. “Are you okay?”

You gave him a small, worn smile. “Getting there.”

And without another word, Joel reached for the blanket draped over the couch and pulled it around you, settling beside you like he belonged there, because he did, right next to you.

Joel sat beside you in the dim light, the night outside thick and silent. His hand found yours, calloused fingers wrapping around yours like he was anchoring himself to this moment, to you.

He swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was raw, not gravel this time, but something softer, like the part of him he kept buried was surfacing for you.

“Tell me,” he said, eyes steady on yours. “I want you to tell me everything. I owe you that. I owe you listening.”

The words cracked something open inside you.

For a long moment, you just stared at him, feeling the sting in your throat, the weight of everything you’d carried in silence, the nights you didn’t sleep, mornings you woke up with your hands shaking, the ache of missing him like a phantom limb, the terror in your gut when Gabriel’s face came to your mind, the guilt, the anger, the goddamn grief you were carrying.

And you nodded.

“I don’t know where to start,” you whispered.

“Anywhere,” Joel murmured, pulling your joined hands to his lips, brushing a kiss to your knuckles. “We’ve got time now. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your throat tighten, but you didn’t look away from him. Not this time. Not now, when the weight of everything you’d carried alone was finally able to see the light, you didn’t want to hold it in.

“I was part of the socialist party,” you whispered, your voice rough, almost unrecognizable in the hush of the room. “I grew up believing in that. My parents raised me to always fight for what was fair. So then, back when… when things started to shift, when people began disappearing, when friends stopped answering doors. Gabriel… he came into my life right then.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his grip on your hand firm but steady, as if to remind you that you were here. That he was listening.

“He said he liked how I danced. That I was the best ballerina he had ever saw on stage,” you went on, a bitter little smile twitching at your lips. “He lured me somehow. Said he wanted to protect me. And I—I wanted so bad to believe someone could. That someone saw me.” Your breath trembled. “But it was a lie. They wanted to get rid of me, Joel. Because of who I was. Because of what I knew. For what I did.”

You saw him close his eyes, like it physically hurt to hear it, but he didn’t flinch away. He never would. “When he got right when they want me, he backed off. He tried to help me or perhaps he lied, but I didn’t trust him and I ran away from the country with the help of my brother, thinking that my family would be safe.”

"He was the Achilles heel I talked to you about once." You said.

His eyes widened,

"He was the breaking point. The weakness that led me to failure."

You felt Joel’s hand caressing your cheeks now, looking his eyes with your watering ones.

“I spent these months in England,” you murmured, your gaze drifting to the window, the dark horizon beyond it. “And I… I was happy, I guess. I could walk the streets without looking over my shoulder. But I had to light every room before I walked in. I had to smoke two cigarettes back-to-back just to quiet my head."

You looked back at him then, tears stinging, a confession year overdue.

“I couldn’t sleep with the lights off. I couldn’t go to bed without drinking tea at night, because it made me feel like you were there. I missed you, Joel. Despite it all. What you did, what you didn’t say, how you let me go, I missed you so goddamn much it felt like it was killing me.”

Joel let out a rough, broken sound, leaning forward until his forehead touched yours again. His voice was wrecked when he spoke. “I have no words for how sorry I am. For every way I failed you. But you, you coming back, telling me this. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it right. If you’ll let me.”

You closed your eyes, a tear slipping free, and nodded. Because even if it was a mess, even if you didn’t know how to start, you finally believed you weren’t meant to carry it alone.

“What you did to me, Joel…” You sobbed, a sound so small and sharp it cut the space between you. “It broke me. I thought—I thought I was never gonna forgive you.”

He let out a choked breath, head bowed like he was praying again, though you knew this time it wasn’t to any god.

“I know,” he rasped. “I know, baby. I—I’ve hated myself for it every day. If I could tear it out of me, what I did, if I could give it back to you, take it on myself, I would.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers over his rough jaw, feeling the tremble there. His lashes were wet when he lifted his gaze to you, and it shattered something in your chest to see him like that. Laid bare. Unmade.

“But,” you whispered, your thumb ghosting over his cheek, “I’m gonna try. Because you didn’t know who he was. Because you were trying to protect your also wounded heart, and because I love you so much that the thought of not having you around, it scares me so much.”

Joel’s breath hitched. A tear slipped down his cheek, and you caught it with your thumb.

“I love you,” you said again, voice steadier this time.

He surged forward, cradling your face in his hands like you were something holy, his forehead pressed to yours as his breath shook out.

“I swear to you,” he whispered, broken and whole in the same breath, “I’ll spend every day of what’s left of me earning that love of yours.” Then he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple, lingering there like it was a vow.

“Besides, I think it’s wonderful you fought for something, for your conviction and beliefs” he murmured against your skin. “That you believed in people, that you saved so many lives. You’re… you’re beautiful. Smart. Braver than anyone I ever met.”

You let out a soft, shaky breath, eyes burning again.

“But not my family,” you whispered, voice breaking like glass. “I couldn’t save them.”

Joel’s hand cradled your cheek then, turning your face toward him. His eyes, dark and heavy with everything he’d carried too, met yours.

“That pain,” he said quietly, “it’s never gonna go away. I won’t lie to you about that. That kind of loss, it settles deeply, and you just learn to carry them differently.”

His thumb brushed a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“But you’ll have me now. And I’ll be the place you come back to. Whenever you need. However, you need.”

You closed your eyes at that, the ache in your chest easing just a little as he pulled you against him, wrapping you in arms that felt like safety for the first time in years.

Your home, right there in the shape of him.

“I will build a house around you if it’s necessary.”

You let out a shaky, broken laugh at that, because God, only Joel could say something so plain and so big all at once.

I’ll be the place you come back to. I’ll build a house around you if it’s necessary.

Like your grief wasn’t a burden. Like your ghosts could be made welcome, too. Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. And you kissed him.

Slow, deep, not desperate this time, not angry, not hungry. Just full of every word you didn’t have, every night you’d spent missing him, every bone-deep ache you’d carried without him. His lips moved against yours like he was trying to memorize the shape of this new world, one where you existed together without lies between you.

His hand cradled the back of your head, the other pressing to the small of your back, holding you so close you could barely tell where he ended and you began. You felt him sigh against your mouth, a sound like surrender, like coming home.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, breath mingling in the quiet night.

“I don’t care where it is,” you whispered, voice raw but sure. “A house. A tiny apartment. A patch of dirt. As long as it’s with you.”

Joel swallowed hard; his eyes wet again as he cupped your cheek.

“It’s yours,” he murmured. “All of it. Me. Whatever’s left. Whatever we can make.”

A soft, breathless laugh escaped you then, something light in the middle of all the heaviness, like the first crack of sunlight through a storm. You pressed your hand over his, leaning into his palm, and gave a tiny, aching nod.

“Come on, let’s get you in bed, you bug” he rasped.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

Joel kissed your forehead, lingering there for a beat like he was grounding himself in the feel of you, and then he stood, his hand never leaving yours as he tugged you gently toward the room you already knew would smell like him, would feel like him.

“Come here. Love,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. “Let me hold you proper.”

And you let him. Because, for the first time in too long, you didn’t need to switch the lights on to sleep.

Tags < 3 @jasminedragoon @mandaloriankait @jellybeanxc @spencercmlover @lilac-boo @disco-fairy75 @correapunk @existentialdreadofhumanity @secretcheesecakenacho @laliceee @exzidss @missladym1981

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[backtothefanfiction]

The Weapon/Collateral Damage | Joaquin Torres x Reader Imagine

Summary: maybe being the new Falcon’s girlfriend wasn’t the best idea after all.

Warnings: kidnapping, experimentation, torture, angst

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I had an idea just before bed and ran with it. Not sure I’m happy with the ending but it is what it is. As I said I wrote it just before bed so probably some mistakes that have slipped through the cracks.

You had tried to wait up for him. You always tried to wait up for him, but when the clock hit midnight your eyes grew heavy. Begrudgingly you got ready for bed, climbing underneath the covers with every intention of reading a few chapters of your book. Surely he’d be back soon.

You startled awake at the sound of something out in the living room. You were sure you could hear shuffling feet and a male voice muttering. You checked the time on your phone 2:30am. It was late for him, but not that late, especially when you’d thought about how far away him and Sam had been working.

“Joaquin?” You called out as you stumbled into the hallway and made your way through the apartment to the open living diner, but there was no response. It made your hackles rise.

“Joaquin?” You said again. You were sure you had heard something. “Joaquin?” You called out one last time as you entered the room, but there was no one there. You could have sworn you heard-

There was a sudden pinch in your neck and you reached your hand up to try and feel what it was, but you suddenly felt very heavy. You were aware of arms catching you as you began to fall, but then, there was nothing.

When you woke again your tongue felt heavy. Your head throbbed slightly and it took all your effort to force your eyes to open. You were definitely conscious, but your body was taking its time to catch up. You tried to lift your arms and rub away the heavy tiredness from your eyes, but they wouldn’t move. You tried again, but something was holding them in place.

You tried to move your legs, having equally as little luck as something dug into your ankles. You groaned in frustration. Your eyes finally opened and began to focus. It was bright. Too bright. Far too bright for you to be at home. You tried to think back to what you last remembered. You had been at home waiting for Joaquin when… Someone had taken you. Someone had broken into the apartment and taken you. But why? And what did they want?

You tried to move again. Tried to sit up, but you were firmly strapped down. Your heartbeat began to rapidly rise as fear suddenly took over.

“Hey!!! Hello!!! Is anybody there?!” You called out.

You tried to turn your head and look around the room better. To look for anyone. Look for answers. But there weren’t any. There was just the horrible white ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights.

You had been taken. Kidnapped. Most likely because of who you were dating. Because you were close to superheroes. You thrashed wildly as you tried once again to wiggle free of your restraints, but they were too tight. It was no use.

“HELP!” You cried out. “SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

“Now, now, there’ll be none of that,” a male voice came from one side of the room as a door opened.

You quickly stilled, listening closely to the man’s footsteps grow closer.

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” You asked trying to sound brave, but your voice shook and tears threatened your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter who I am, my dear. I’m more interested in who you are. Yes, you’re very important indeed,” he said. There was a sound of rattling metal moving across the floor and you desperately tried to look to your right to see him move a rolling metal tray into view. A plethora of medical equipment on top.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked, fear laced into every word you spoke.

“I’m gonna make you better,” he said in a soft and cheerful voice, but his words did very little to comfort you. “Now, you may feel a slight pinch.” You watched as he plunged a needle into your arm.

“What’s that?” You asked, but you didn’t have time to get an answer as the blue liquid in the syringe was squeezed into your veins. Your body began to tense and thrash, it felt like fire passing through your blood and you began to thrash and scream.

“Now, now, we’ll have none of that,” he said again before he moved to place a mask over your nose and mouth. Gas was slowly pumped into it and before you knew it you began to feel woozy again.

“That’s it, atta girl,” the man said and your body began to relax until your eyes grew heavy and everything went black.

When you woke up next you were lying alone in a cell. There was a small toilet and sink in the corner, but apart from that, there was nothing else other than the mattress on the floor you were currently lying on. It was so dark. There was a faint red light in the corner of the room, but nothing else. No windows. No nothing.

“Hello?” You called out as you forced yourself to sit up. “HELLO!” You called louder when you got no response.

Your skin felt itchy. No not your skin, it was something deeper. More of a mild burning sensation you couldn’t get rid of.

“HELLLOOOO!” You called again as you slowly began to stand.

Your legs were wobbly as you tried to slowly feel for a door. You thought you could hear a siren going off in the distance. Suddenly there was a click of a latch, letting you know, not just where the door was, but that it was now open. This was all so weird. Where were you? What was going on?

You slowly stepped out into the light of a corridor. The lights were all dimmed and there was a swirling red warning light high up on the wall at one end of the corridor. When you looked to the right there was a heavy set of double doors. Both firmly shut tight. You looked to the left to find another set of doors at the other end of the corridor, but these ones were propped open.

You moved towards the open doors. The whole place looked like a deserted hospital ward. There was no one in sight. It unnerved you. Your heart rate began to rise, your palms growing sweaty as you slowly stumbled towards an empty lab and the memory of being tied down and the creepy man came back to you. The feeling of the blue liquid being injected into your veins. What the?

There was the sound of heavy boots running down the hall. “Y/N!” You heard his voice call. Joaquin.

You turned just in time to see him come to a stop in the open doorway to the lab.

“Joaquin?” You said shakily.

“I’m here baby, I’m here,” he said, trying to cross the room to you, but you stepped back.

“No, no, no! Stay back!” You shouted at him, throwing your hands up, trying to get him to stop.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately freezing, his own look of panic falling over his face.

“They did something to me,” you said frightened. “They injected me with something and-“ as your fear continued to rise, so did that burning feeling under your skin. As you continued to panic, your hands began to glow. There was definitely something not right.

“Baby, I need you to breathe and calm down for me,” Joaquin tried to coach you, but it was no use. You were so far gone. The fear and terror over your situation was fully taking over. “Y/N,” he warned as that brightness and burning sensation in your hands grew.

You began to shake them, unsure of what else to do.

“Baby, just stay still, don’t move. I need you to just breathe for me okay. Focus on me. Just me. Okay? Slowly now, slowly.”

“What’s happening to me?” You asked frantically, your voice shaking as tears spilled from your eyes.

“We’re gonna work this out together okay? I just need you to calm down, okay?… Y/N?”

Joaquin ducked for cover as that blinding light took over and burst from your hands, burning a hole in the wall just behind where Joaquin had been standing. It scared the life out of you. You almost hit him. That would have killed him… Hang on a second, that’s exactly what they wanted. To make you a weapon. So you would take down your own boyfriend.

“Baby?” Joaquin said placatingly again as he stood in front of you. You just looked at your hands in disbelief.

This wasn’t happening. No…

“Y/N, look at me. I’m right here. I’m right here with you,” Joaquin said urgently and when you looked at him you could see his own fear and worry in his eyes. The guilt knowing he was the reason this had happened to you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking.

“Don’t you dare be sorry. This isn’t your fault okay? We’ll get through this,” he said, but you were so worried you wouldn’t. What if you would never be okay again?

The fear began to make that light take over again.

“Baby, I need you to talk to me. Come on, talk to me. Let me help you, bottling everything up is only gonna make it worse,” he said before he jumped to the side again as another burst of energy blasted from your hands.

“Ahhhh make it stop!” You screamed desperately trying to keep your hands directed away from him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you cried through sobs. “Joaquin, I'm so scared.”

“I know, I know,” he said, steadily trying to step forward towards you. “I’ve got you, okay. We’ll get through this together like we always do. Okay?”

You nodded, not unable to get any words past the lump in your throat. “I didn’t want any of this,” you finally said.

“I know, I know,” he said again softly, his hand reaching out for you but not quite touching you, as if he was waiting for you to be ready to come to him. “We’ll get through this, okay? I just need you to trust me. Let me take you home.”

You shook your head. You couldn’t trust yourself, not like this. What if you hurt someone?

“Baby?” he said warily as you began to back away from him.

“I’m a weapon. They made me a weapon. To hurt you! I won’t! Please don’t make me-“

He moved quickly, grabbing both of your arms and holding them at your sides, forcing you to look at him. You swallowed deeply, trying to push away all the panic and fear.

“I’ve got you,” he said calmly. “I trust you.”

“But what if I hurt-“

“You’re not gonna hurt me. Okay, just ignore it for a second. Just breathe. Just be here with me. Breathe with me. In,” he said, taking a deep breath in and your tried to copy him. “And out,” he said slowly exhaling. “In….. and out. You’re doing so good.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. But just breathe. In… and out.”

Slowly you began to calm and the light under your skin began to fade. “In… and out.” Joaquin continued to coach. “I’ve got you,” he reminded you, his thumb rubbing softly over your arm. “I’ve got you.”

When you were calm enough, you allowed him to pull you fully into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he said into the top of your head as he held you close to him. “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry.” You gently began to cry against him but it was with relief and a feeling of safety, not fear.

“We’ll fix this,” he said as he pulled himself back to look into your eyes, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks tenderly. “I’ll fix this, I promise.” He said and you hoped he could. Hoped that everything would be okay. But unfortunately as you felt that burning feeling still tickling your veins, you feared it never would be again.

[norixseaweed]

Between Rooms: Masterlist + Intro (Ateez Smut series)

Title: Between RoomsRating: 18+ NSFW (MDNI) Characters: Ateez OT8, Female Reader/You Synopsis: Eight men. One house. And you, right in the middle of it. What started as a lucky break, an affordable room in a cozy mansion, quickly turned into something else entirely. You didn’t expect to bond with them so easily. You definitely didn’t expect the tension. Or the teasing glances. Or the way they touched you when no one else was around. This is a roommate AU (mostly cuz i didn't wanna logic around them being idols) A/N: There will be a little bit of boyxboy action at some point too ;)

Status: On Going (updated 6/17/25)

Masterlist-

Chapter 1: Jongho

Chapter 2: Seunghwa

Chapter 3: Mingi

Chapter 4: Yeosang

Chapter 5: Yunho

Intro and Character Introductions under read more

Intro:

You work as a bartender at one of the best bars in the city. The pay is decent, especially with tips, and overall, you’re pretty content with where you are in your career. The only issue? Your lease is about to end, and every new place you’ve looked at has been outrageously expensive.

One night, while venting about it to your friend and coworker Mingi, the bar’s security, he mentioned an open room for rent at the house he lives in.

He explained that it’s a mansion passed down through generations in the landlord’s family. He’s been living there for a few years now with seven other guys, and the landlord? A sweet, humble older woman who doesn’t care much about profit. She just wants to rent to good people and keep the house lived in.

Naturally, you were skeptical. Eight guys? A mansion? Too many red flags. But Mingi reassured you, it was a good space, the roommates were chill, and the rent was somehow cheaper than your current apartment.

Eventually, he brought you over to see it. You were expecting something flashy, intimidating. But the mansion turned out to be warm, cozy, less extravagant and more homey than you'd imagined. And when you met a few of the others, you felt comfortable right away. It didn’t take long for you to say yes.

Now here you are, seven months later.

You settled in faster than expected. Most of the guys welcomed you easily. It took a little more time with Yeosang and Yunho, but even they opened up eventually.

What you didn’t expect, though, was how hot and intense things could get with them.

And god, was it hot.

You always knew your libido was higher than most—none of your exes had ever been able to keep up. But these men?

They were something else entirely.

Character Introductions:

You – Bartender. The most recent to join the house. Reserved at first, but warm, caring, and easy to get along with once comfortable. Mostly submissive, with a soft dominant streak that shows around the right people.

Seonghwa – Fashion designer. Meticulous, calm, and quietly commanding. Manages the house like it’s part of his brand—organized, elegant, and always in control when it counts.

Hongjoong – Songwriter and producer. Creative, intense, and constantly working odd hours in his studio. Sharp-witted with a habit of teasing just to watch you squirm.

Yunho – Business management major with a hospitality minor. Polished, dependable, and flirtatious in the most casual, disarming way. The type to make your heart race with a single comment—then act like he didn’t mean it.

Yeosang – Law student. Private, intelligent, and observant to a fault. He doesn’t speak often, but when he does, it hits. Gives off silent authority and unshakable composure, with something darker simmering underneath.

San – Architecture student. Sweet, affectionate, and physically expressive—until things turn heated. In bed, he’s all control, with a soft spot for brats who need taming.

Wooyoung – Performing arts major. Loud, physical, shamelessly flirty, and always stirring the pot. Loves attention, lives for praise, and crumbles beautifully under dominance.

Mingi – Bar security and part-time choreographer. Playful, protective, and deceptively laid-back. Loves touch, thrives on rhythm, and turns surprisingly serious when he takes control.

Jongho – Coder by day, game streamer by night. Grounded, quiet, and impossibly strong. He gives more than he takes—focused entirely on your pleasure, with calm intensity that sneaks up on you.

[bucketgetter535]

No Margin for Error: Chapter Six

CW: Language

WC: 5.5k

Notes: Paige and Azzi 🤝 racing when they really shouldn’t. Anywayyy lmk what yall think. Like fr send thoughts plz. Also there fr might be some typos in here so my bad

The Belgian Grand Prix always felt different.

Longer track. Longer days. Longer everything.

Azzi adjusted her gloves as she sat in the cockpit, feeling the rumble of the Ferrari underneath her like a second heartbeat.

Outside, the clouds were heavy — Spa was always threatening rain — but right now, it was just cool and gray.

Perfect for fast laps.

“Radio check, Azzi,” Mateo’s voice buzzed into her ear.

“Yeah, loud and clear,” Azzi replied, rolling onto the track exit and easing onto the throttle.

Spa was brutal in how spread out it was.

Everything felt distant. Every sector was a journey.

“First timed lap. Let’s stay clean through turns 2, 3, and 4, see how she feels.”

Azzi took the corner flat, climbing the hill with the precision of someone who didn’t fear physics anymore.

“How’s the balance?” Mateo asked.

Azzi gave a tight shrug even though he couldn’t see it. “Good. A little light at the front.”

Then — almost without thinking — she asked:

“Is Paige on track yet?”

There was a beat of silence, like Mateo almost smirked over the radio.

But when he spoke, he was professional as ever:

“Yep. She’s about halfway through her flyer. Sector two just came through — she’s down three-tenths off you.”

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek.

She told herself it was a racing thing — knowing where your competitors were.

Right. Competitors.

But no matter how many times she repeated that in her head, it didn’t explain the little spark in her chest when she heard Paige’s name.

Or the ache when she remembered last week — Paige in her lap, Paige tangled up with her in bed, Paige saying Azzi’s name like it meant something.

Azzi took another lap, the track sprawling out endlessly in front of her.

God, Belgium was long.

And Paige hated it.

Azzi shouldn’t know that. She shouldn’t know that Paige thought Spa was too stretched out, too hard to find rhythm at.

She shouldn’t know that Paige preferred tighter, technical circuits — Monaco, Singapore, Hungary.

But now she knew a lot of things she shouldn’t.

Like the smell of Paige’s perfume when she leaned in close — something expensive and clean.

Or the way Paige’s body fit against hers — soft, perfect.

Or that Paige’s middle name was Madison — something Azzi had teased her about mercilessly after discovering it.

They hadn’t known each other like this back in F3.

Back then it had been easier — teammates for half a season, both still reckless kids.

Azzi had thought Paige was cool, a little bit cocky, insanely fast in the wet.

Nothing more.

Now?

Now it was so much more it scared the shit out of her.

“Sector times coming through — you’re purple in one and three. 2nd overall for now, behind Red Bull,” Mateo updated casually.

Azzi wiped her sweaty palm against her race suit.

“Copy,” she muttered, half-listening.

The car roared through turns 16 and 17, and she could hear Mateo flipping through data in the background.

“Paige improved, by the way. Only two-tenths off now.”

Azzi’s stomach twisted again, but she just gripped the wheel tighter.

Focus.

It was just racing. Just Paige.

Except it wasn’t just Paige anymore, and they both knew it.

And with every lap around this endless, endless circuit, Azzi felt that truth getting harder to ignore.

–

The debrief room was freezing, the kind of cold that cut straight through Azzi’s race suit and made her wrap her arms around herself without thinking.

She sat next to Mateo, laptops open, sector maps and tire graphs blinking on screens in front of them. Azzi stared at her lap data, half-listening to Mateo talk about telemetry spikes and brake balance, nodding when appropriate.

Her mind was still stuck on the track.

No, not the track.

On Paige.

“You’re being weird quiet,” Mateo said lightly, clicking through to another graph. “Not like you.”

Azzi flicked her eyes over at him but didn’t bite.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his thigh.

“Hey, random, but—” he flipped a tab open on his laptop, scrolling, “Paige posted something during break. New York. Did you guys, like… run into each other?”

His voice was casual. Almost too casual.

Azzi kept her face neutral.

She was good at that. Had been for years.

“Yeah,” she said, short. “We had drinks.”

That was all.

No extra words. No stupid smile, no fucking heart in her throat.

But Mateo clocked the hell out of her anyway.

His eyes flickered — a quick, knowing look — before he leaned forward again like he hadn’t noticed anything at all.

“Cool, cool,” he said, flipping to another page of data. “Same city and all. Makes sense.”

Azzi nodded stiffly, focusing hard on the tire degradation charts.

Her hands were a little too tight around her water bottle.

They wrapped up another ten minutes later. Mateo didn’t push. He never did.

He just handed her a printout of race sims, gave a quick grin, and said, “Go shower, Fudd. Take a break.”

She wandered through the paddock toward the team motorhome, boots heavy, race suit still half unzipped around her waist.

Her head buzzed, not from the laps, but from Paige.

The constant undercurrent of her.

Azzi stepped into the small private bathroom near her room, turned the water on scorching, and stripped down automatically.

Steam rose around her, thick and blinding.

She stepped under the spray, letting it hit her full force.

Finally — finally — she could think.

Paige.

Paige, looking a little awkward this morning. Paige’s voice over the radio. Paige’s fucking middle name.

Azzi leaned her forehead against the wall.

She was comfortable being out — she really was.

Her parents knew. Her brothers knew. Her close friends.

It wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t shame.

But this world…

F1 wasn’t exactly known for making things easy.

Cameras everywhere. Millions of eyes. Endless judgment.

It wasn’t fear, exactly.

It was exhaustion.

And somewhere in that fog of exhaustion, Azzi found herself giving Paige a little bit of grace.

Paige, who wasn’t just dealing with the weight of the grid, but the weight of herself too.

Paige, who probably hadn’t told anyone either.

Paige, who smiled like hell but pulled back the second anyone got too close.

Azzi closed her eyes.

Sometimes she forgot — just because they were the same age didn’t mean they were the same.

Azzi had been in F1 three seasons longer. She knew the rhythms. The grind. The loneliness.

Paige was still new. Still raw.

Still learning how brutal it could all be.

Azzi let the water beat against her skin until she felt wrung out.

She didn’t know what they were doing.

She didn’t know what it meant.

But she knew this:

When Paige leaned into her in the middle of the night — when Paige trusted her enough to stay — Azzi wasn’t going to pull away.

Not now.

Not when it felt like maybe, maybe, they were both reaching for the same thing.

–

It was lap six of the race, and everything felt…wrong.

Not in the car — Azzi’s Ferrari was moving well, nimble on mediums, grip solid in the cool Belgian air.

Not in the strategy — tire life looked good, energy deployment was fine.

It was the pack.

Too tight.

Too crowded.

Like no one was willing to let go.

Azzi gritted her teeth and focused ahead. The front group — her, a Red Bull, both Mercedes, both Ferraris — were jostling for the same slice of track.

Way too close for the early laps of a race this long.

“Car behind two-tenths,” Mateo’s voice came through her radio, cool and clipped. “ERS mode four. Watch turn nine, dirty air.”

Azzi adjusted her settings, leaned into the corner.

She trusted Mateo. Trusted herself.

Still — the air was wrong.

Nervous.

And then—

Yellow flags.

Sector two.

Static cracked through the radio.

Azzi heard shouting. Caught the tail end of someone screaming “incident!”

Then a blur of white and red, off track, smoke trailing.

Azzi’s stomach dropped straight to the floor.

Paige’s Ferrari was nose-deep into the barriers at 150 miles per hour.

Azzi was already pressing the radio button before her brain caught up.

“Is she okay? What happened?”

Static. More static.

Mateo didn’t answer immediately.

Azzi downshifted instinctively, glancing at the crash site as she passed under double yellows.

The car was wrecked.

Front wing destroyed.

Tires twisted wrong against carbon fiber.

Azzi’s hands tightened around the wheel.

Is Paige okay?” she demanded, sharper now, heart hammering.

Mateo’s voice finally cut back in, frazzled: “She was bumped. McLaren behind got too aggressive. McLaren spun too. Medical car’s rolling.”

That was not an answer.

Azzi flexed her fingers on the wheel, forcing herself to breathe.

Focus.

Focus.

She remembered her first crash. Rookie year. Barcelona. All she could think afterward was how much it shook you — not just your body, but your head. The noise. The force. The way the world tipped sideways and didn’t right itself for days.

And this — this was Paige’s first crash. Paige, who had never so much as brushed a wall in her entire career.

“Mateo,” she said again, voice low, “I need to know if she’s okay.”

“Still waiting,” Mateo answered. “We’ll tell you the second we know.”

Azzi nodded to herself. Professional. She had to stay professional.

But the worry scratched under her skin, itching, pulling, refusing to be ignored.

They sent the safety car out. Azzi slotted behind it, controlling her tire temps, flicking through settings like she was supposed to.

But her mind stayed on sector two.

On the wreck.

On Paige.

It didn’t matter that they were awkward still. It didn’t matter that Azzi hadn’t been able to look her in the eye in the driver’s room all weekend without remembering skin and mouths and Paige’s stupid, beautiful laugh at 2am.

None of that mattered.

What mattered was that Paige was lying somewhere behind the barriers, maybe hurt, maybe worse, and Azzi couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“Driver extraction complete,” race control finally announced over the airwaves.

Azzi closed her eyes for a second, unseen inside the helmet.

“She’s walking,” Mateo added quickly, relief clear in his voice. “Medical checks pending, but she’s out of the car.”

Azzi let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A deep, shuddery thing that rattled through her chest.

Good.

She was okay.

The race would go on. Azzi would keep driving. Keep fighting. But under the steel nerves and the race-honed focus, something inside her stayed knotted tight. Because that was the thing about caring about someone you shouldn’t.

It didn’t turn off just because the lights went out and the visor came down. It didn’t turn off when the cameras rolled, when the whole world watched. It didn’t even turn off when you needed it to the most. It just sat there, stubborn and aching and alive.

–

5th.

It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t what Azzi wanted.

Especially not when the car had felt good in the first stint. But somewhere after the safety car, the Ferrari started behaving…wrong. Weird loss of power on straights. Something in the deployment.

Mateo was already talking about engine mapping errors before she even peeled her gloves off.

Azzi climbed out of the car in the garage, jaw tight. The first thing she did — before debrief, before interviews, before even pulling off her helmet — was ask Mateo:

“Paige?”

Mateo caught her meaning instantly.

“They sent her to a local hospital,” he said, lowering his voice. “Just precautionary. More thorough scans.”

Azzi nodded. It made sense. Belgium was brutal — the track long, the barriers close, medical protocol strict.

Still.

Still, something twisted in her gut.

Mateo lingered a little too long as she pulled her fireproof face covering off.

“You and Paige,” he said, voice casual, but not really casual at all. “You two good?”

Azzi kept her face neutral. Professional.

“We’re friends,” she said simply. “Teammates.”

Mateo didn’t push it. Just clapped her lightly on the shoulder and muttered something about checking telemetry later.

Azzi barely heard him.

She just wanted —

God, she didn’t even know what she wanted.

To see Paige.

To hear Paige.

Something to prove she was fine.

–

Her hotel room felt cold when she got there. Cold and too quiet, even with the windows cracked open to the late-summer air.

Azzi sat on the edge of the bed for a while, staring at the blank wall.

Finally, she picked up her phone.

Thumb hovered.

Paige’s name blinked up at her.

She hadn’t texted.

Hadn’t called.

Azzi hesitated — then hit the button anyway.

The line rang twice before it picked up.

“Hey,” Paige said.

Her voice was…off.

Small. Tired. Guarded.

Azzi’s heart twisted again, but she kept it steady.

“Hey,” she said back, soft. “You okay?”

A beat.

Two.

“Doctors said I’m fine,” Paige muttered eventually. “X-rays clean. Just bruised up. Said I could go home tonight.”

Relief slammed into Azzi so hard she nearly closed her eyes.

“Good,” she breathed. “That’s good, P.”

Another long pause.

“You didn’t have to call,” Paige said finally.

Not angry — just…tired.

Azzi’s chest tightened.

“I wanted to,” she said simply.

Paige didn’t say anything for a second.

Then:

“You don’t have to babysit me, Azzi. I’m not a fucking rookie.”

The words came out sharper than either of them intended.

Azzi flinched like she’d been slapped.

Fought to keep her voice calm.

“I never said you were.”

“No, but you think it,” Paige shot back.

Azzi sat up straighter.

“Jesus, Paige, I don’t—”

“You do!” Paige snapped. “You think just ’cause you’ve been here longer, you know everything and I’m some dumbass kid who needs her hand held—”

“Paige,” Azzi cut in, sharp now. “That’s not fair.”

Another beat.

Breathless silence between them.

Paige’s voice cracked when she spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I just—”

Azzi closed her eyes.

“I know.”

Soft. Real.

“I know, P.”

She didn’t take it personally.

Not really.

Not when she could hear it — the crash still rattling in Paige’s bones, still spinning her brain sideways.

Azzi leaned back against the headboard, pressing the phone closer to her ear.

“I know you’re upset,” she said quietly. “It’s your first crash, Paige. It messes with you.”

Another long silence.

Then Paige, so small she was barely there:

“Don’t worry about me Azzi. I’m fine.”

Azzi swallowed the lump in her throat.

“You’re not,” she said gently. “Not right now. And that’s fine. Just rest for a bit, okay?”

No answer —

but Azzi could hear Paige breathing.

Alive.

Still fighting.

And maybe that was enough for tonight.

–

Paige had texted when she made it back to the hotel.

Azzi knocked once before letting herself in.

The door wasn’t locked anyway.

Paige was curled up on the far side of the hotel bed, looking rumpled and exhausted and irritated in the low light. She barely looked up when Azzi entered, just muttered something under her breath that Azzi didn’t quite catch.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Azzi said, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“I’m fine,” Paige said immediately, the words too sharp.

Azzi ignored the tone. She crossed the room anyway, dropping her backpack onto a chair, keeping her voice low and careful. “You don’t look fine.”

“I don’t need you to babysit me, Azzi.”

The way she said her name — like it was something dirty — set Azzi’s teeth on edge. She sat on the edge of the opposite bed, facing her, keeping a little distance, even though all she wanted to do was reach out.

“You almost ended up in a hospital overnight.”

“I didn’t, though.” Paige shifted, pushing herself up onto her elbows, wincing slightly when she moved too fast. “I’m not a child.”

“You got bumped into a wall at 150 miles an hour, Paige,” Azzi said, sharper than she meant to. “Forgive me if I’m a little—”

“What?” Paige snapped. “A little what? Concerned? Worried? Acting like you have some right to—?”

Azzi clenched her jaw. “You’re my teammate.”

That hung there, ugly and thin between them.

Teammate.

Like that explained everything.

Like it erased everything else.

Paige laughed under her breath, bitter. “Right. That’s all we are, isn’t it?”

Azzi felt heat crawl up the back of her neck.

“This isn’t the time,” she said tightly. “You’re not even—you’re not thinking straight.”

“You mean because I’m pissed off?” Paige bit back. “Or because I’m sick of pretending like none of it matters?”

Azzi froze.

There it was.

All of it.

Every unspoken thing between them, cracking loose under the weight of exhaustion and fear and whatever the hell today had been.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Paige said, softer now, her voice catching somewhere in her chest. “You didn’t either. We were supposed to be friends, Azzi. Teammates. Nothing else. But then you—” She broke off, shaking her head like she couldn’t say it out loud.

Azzi breathed in slowly through her nose, trying to keep calm. ��I didn’t do anything you didn’t want.”

“I know,” Paige said, closing her eyes briefly. “I know.”

Azzi didn’t know what to say to that.

The silence spun out, heavy and suffocating, until Paige let out a rough, frustrated sigh and pressed her fingers to her temples.

Azzi’s instincts kicked in immediately.

“Your head?” she asked, voice sharp with concern.

“I’m fine,” Paige muttered, but her hand stayed there, rubbing slow circles against her forehead like she could scrub the pain out of it.

Azzi stood up without another word. She crossed the room, dimmed the lights even further until only a soft golden glow was left, and slipped into the bathroom to dig out the Tylenol and a bottle of water from the hotel’s amenities.

When she came back, Paige was still rubbing at her head, her body coiled tight like a wire ready to snap.

Azzi set the water down on the bedside table, then sat again, closer this time.

“You need to take something,” she said gently. “You hit the wall hard, Paige. You have a concussion.”

“I’m fine.”

Azzi gave her a look that said don’t lie to me.

Paige stared at her a long second, something raw and pained flickering in her eyes — and then, wordlessly, she took the Tylenol from Azzi’s outstretched hand and swallowed it down with a gulp of water.

Azzi watched her the whole time, making sure.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension from earlier still simmered under the surface, but the edge was blunted now, dulled by exhaustion and something dangerously close to tenderness.

“You’re stubborn,” Azzi said eventually, voice low.

Paige gave a breathless laugh that didn’t sound happy. “Takes one to know one.”

Azzi huffed softly, reaching out to brush a piece of hair off Paige’s forehead without really thinking. Paige didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” Azzi said, quieter now. “You don’t have to… fight everything by yourself.”

Paige’s mouth twisted like she wanted to argue — but then she just looked down at her lap, saying nothing.

Azzi leaned back slightly, giving her space.

Outside, the lights of the city flickered in the dark, and somewhere deep in Azzi’s chest, something hurt.

They weren’t just teammates.

They never had been.

And they both knew it — even if the world wasn’t ready to know it too.

Azzi stayed sitting at the edge of the bed for a long time, watching Paige fight the pull of sleep like it was a battle she couldn’t afford to lose.

Paige’s head kept tilting forward, jerking up again each time, stubborn to the bitter end. Azzi didn’t say anything. She just shifted up onto the mattress properly, leaning against the headboard, close enough that Paige could feel her there without either of them having to say it out loud.

After a while, Paige gave up.

She shifted over almost unconsciously, head finding Azzi’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Azzi froze, then forced herself to relax. She carefully tilted her head back against the wall, careful not to move too much. Paige’s breathing evened out slowly, the tension in her shoulders finally giving way to something softer, heavier.

Azzi stayed.

She stayed even when her arm went numb.

Stayed even when her own body begged her to move.

She stayed because this was Paige.

Because for once, Paige let her.

The city lights eventually dimmed to nothing, and morning started to bleed into the sky outside the window.

–

Azzi woke with a start when she felt Paige stir beside her. She glanced down to find Paige blinking sleepily, clearly disoriented.

“Hey,” Azzi said softly.

Paige grunted in response, still half-asleep. She pulled away slowly, sitting up with a groan and rubbing her hands over her face.

Azzi swung her legs off the bed, stretching her back out with a grimace. “We should get moving. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

Paige nodded, looking wrecked.

Azzi wanted to say something — anything — about how bad Paige still looked. But she bit her tongue. She could push, or she could stay close. Today, staying close seemed smarter.

They packed quickly and quietly. Azzi had already arranged for her private jet to be ready at the small airfield just outside town. One benefit of her success — and the Ferrari paycheck — was not having to wait around in airports anymore.

They barely spoke on the drive to the airfield. Paige leaned her forehead against the window and closed her eyes, her whole body drawn tight with something Azzi couldn’t name.

She knew she should say something.

Press harder.

Force Paige to admit what was obvious to everyone with eyes — that she wasn’t okay.

But Azzi had known Paige too long. Pushing would only make her dig in harder.

They boarded quietly, the engines already humming low and steady. Azzi dropped into a seat and buckled in. Paige took the one opposite her, slouching low.

Once they were in the air, Azzi finally broke the silence.

“You still look off,” she said, trying for light but coming off more worried than she wanted.

Paige shrugged without opening her eyes. “Just tired.”

“You’re sitting out in practice one.”

It wasn’t a question.

Paige cracked one eye open, giving her a crooked half-smile. “Yeah. They’re gonna let one of the F2 kids have a go. Learning experience, right?”

“You need more than one session off,” Azzi said, voice low.

Paige shrugged again, which Azzi hated even more than an outright argument.

“I have to race,” Paige said after a minute. “Hungary’s a good track for us. The car should be better there than it was at Spa.”

Azzi rubbed her hands over her face, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with racing.

“I know. But we’re miles ahead. Constructors’ points aren’t gonna vanish overnight.”

Paige didn’t answer.

Azzi looked out the window, watching clouds roll by beneath them. She wanted to reach across the small aisle between their seats, grab Paige’s hand, tell her it was okay to take a break, to take care of herself. That no one would think less of her for it. That Azzi — of all people — sure as hell wouldn’t.

But Azzi stayed where she was.

Because that’s what Paige needed right now.

Not pressure. Not even kindness that felt like pressure.

Just someone sitting across from her, not pushing.

They landed in Budapest in the soft light of late morning. The heat pressed down immediately, sticky and heavy. It was going to be a brutal race weekend, physically and mentally.

Azzi caught a glimpse of Paige’s profile as they climbed into the car waiting for them on the tarmac.

The stubborn set of her jaw.

The way she moved just a fraction too slow, like her brain and body weren’t quite lining up.

Concussion, Azzi thought again with a sick twist in her stomach.

But Paige didn’t say anything.

And Azzi — against every screaming instinct — didn’t either.

They had a job to do.

Two more days, Azzi told herself.

Just get through Hungary.

Then the summer break.

Three blessed weeks where maybe, maybe, they could finally figure out what the hell they were doing.

If Paige was still in one piece by then.

Azzi wasn’t sure if that was hope or fear threading itself through her ribs as they drove away from the airport and into another waiting weekend.

–

It was Practice Two.

Hot, heavy air clung to the circuit at the Hungaroring, making everything feel just a little slower, a little stickier than usual.

Azzi clipped into her gloves, slid her helmet on, and jogged out to the car. She had a job to do — scrub some tires, run some quali sims, feel out the long run balance. Nothing crazy. Just sharpness. Precision. The usual.

Still, even as she fired up the car and pulled away from the garage, her eyes flicked toward the other side of the pitlane, searching for a flash of red and white.

Searching for Paige.

It was the first time Paige had gotten back in the car since Spa.

Since the crash.

Since the moment Azzi’s heart had slammed into her throat when she saw Paige’s car buried in the barrier.

She tried not to think about that now.

Tried.

The laps blurred past — smooth, professional, careful. Azzi was ticking off her list, hitting her marks. It was good. It was fine. But something still nagged at her.

“How’s Paige?” Azzi asked over the radio, casual enough that maybe it wouldn’t sound weird.

There was a pause before Mateo answered.

“Taking it easy today,” he said. “Or at least that’s what Luca said.”

Azzi pressed her lips together inside the helmet, glancing at the sector times lighting up her dash.

Slow.

Paige was slow.

Fine, Azzi told herself. It was fine. Paige deserved to take it easy. She deserved to get her feet back under her without everyone breathing down her neck.

“Copy,” Azzi said shortly, and threw herself back into the lap.

–

The next day, Practice Three, Paige looked different.

Sharper.

Faster.

Azzi watched from her own cockpit, tucked into the garage between runs, as Paige’s name kept popping up higher and higher on the timesheets.

She didn’t know if she should be proud or furious.

Because as much as she wanted to wrap Paige in bubble wrap and lock her away somewhere safe, she knew — God, she knew — that Paige was right.

She had to race.

By the time qualifying rolled around, the tension in the paddock was a living thing. Hot, vibrating, electric.

Azzi climbed into her car, clipped her belts tight, and tried to drown it all out.

Focus.

Precision.

Speed.

Nothing else mattered.

–

Qualifying was brutal.

Hungary always was.

Hot tires, hotter track, little mistakes costing tenths that you couldn’t afford.

One corner slightly wide, and you were done.

Margins razor-thin.

Azzi went fastest early in Q1, then again in Q2.

In Q3, she wrung the car’s neck, every millimeter of track used, every ounce of herself left on the circuit.

She crossed the line, heart in her mouth, and saw her name flash to the top of the board.

Pole.

For about fifteen seconds.

Then another time blinked onto the screens.

Paige Bueckers — 1.

Azzi just sat there for a second, her hands still tight around the wheel, staring at the timing screen like it had personally betrayed her.

Then she laughed, the sound raw and sharp in her own helmet.

Because of course Paige had done it.

Of course she had.

Paige fucking Bueckers — stubborn, brilliant, impossible Paige — was back.

Azzi coasted back into the pits, pulling into the garage with her jaw tight, trying to keep everything professional. Everything controlled.

The car was wheeled back into the Ferrari bay. Mechanics flooded around her. Someone was shouting numbers into a headset. The whole garage buzzed like a struck wire.

Azzi climbed out of the car, pulling her helmet off in one smooth motion, shaking her damp hair free.

Across the garage, she saw her.

Paige stood just inside the barrier, helmet under one arm, suit half-unzipped to the waist, chest rising and falling fast.

Dr. Liao hovered at her side, clipboard in hand.

“Do you have water?” Paige asked, her voice raw and tired.

Dr. Liao smiled patiently. “Yes, Paige. Let’s get you some water, alright?”

Azzi stayed where she was, watching.

Paige didn’t even seem to see her.

She just nodded stiffly, letting herself be steered toward the back of the garage, toward the quiet little alcove where the team doctors set up shop on race weekends.

Azzi peeled off her gloves, slow and deliberate, trying to keep her face blank.

She should feel relieved.

Paige was fine.

More than fine.

She was fast.

But something still pulled at the back of Azzi’s mind — the way Paige swayed slightly when she moved, the way her hands trembled just a little when she handed off her helmet to a mechanic.

Azzi turned away, forcing herself to focus on the debrief, the data, the job.

Because this was F1.

Because feelings didn’t win races.

Because even when it was Paige — even when it was everything — Azzi still had to keep her head.

For now.

–

Race day in Hungary was so hot it shimmered.

Even in the garage, under shade, Azzi could feel the thick weight of it pressing down.

But for once, everything worked.

The cooling systems inside the cockpit. The drink system. The radio. All of it humming along without a hiccup.

It was like the world was finally giving them a break.

Azzi settled into her seat, belts strapped tight, gloves tugged into place. Her visor clicked down.

Focus.

One more race.

Then the break.

Lights out — and it was a dream start.

Paige nailed it off the line. Azzi tucked in right behind her, slingshotting forward, clear of the pack.

It was obvious within the first few laps — Ferrari was just better today.

Faster, cleaner, untouchable.

Azzi heard Mateo’s voice in her ear, smooth and almost relaxed. “2nd, Azzi. Five seconds off Paige. McLaren’s about seven behind you. Just manage tires, yeah?”

Azzi clicked her radio once.

“Copy.”

She settled into the rhythm, letting the track come to her.

Hot wind screaming past the car, tires digging in through the corners, engine singing behind her.

Perfect.

Out of the corner of her eye, once in a while on the straights, she caught a flash of papaya orange — the McLaren behind them. It was one of the new guys. Some kid who was just happy to be here, racing like it was Christmas morning. Every time Azzi saw him in her mirrors, she felt the same tiny, almost reluctant smile tug at her mouth.

Good vibes all around today.

No chaos.

No failures.

No disasters.

Just pure racing.

By the time they crossed the finish line — Paige first, Azzi second — the pit wall exploded.

Cheers, fists in the air, Mateo’s voice breaking into a shout over the radio.

“Yes, Azzi! Beautiful drive! Double podium for us! Let’s go!”

Azzi coasted into the cool-down lap, letting herself grin, exhaustion finally bleeding into something lighter.

God, she needed this.

They both did.

–

After the champagne, the interviews, the endless photos — they finally peeled themselves out of their suits and helmets and made it back to Azzi’s jet.

Still buzzing, but quieter now.

Sleepier.

Heavy-limbed with satisfaction.

Paige sprawled into a seat near the back of the cabin, head tipped against the wall, hair a mess from her helmet.

Azzi dropped into the seat across from her, kicking off her sneakers and grabbing a water bottle.

“Got summer break plans?” she asked, cracking the cap.

Paige peeled one eye open. “Yeah. Heading to Colorado for a while. Some cabin up in the mountains. Good weather. No people. Just chill.”

Azzi tipped her head back, whistling low. “Damn. That’s a good idea.”

She hadn’t made any real plans.

Maybe catch up with some friends. Wander around New York. Sleep too much.

Nothing like what Paige was describing — clear air, quiet, a full step away from the noise and the grind.

Paige stretched, arching her back slightly before slumping again, lazy. “You could come, if you wanted,” she said, almost offhand. “Cabin’s got extra rooms.”

Azzi blinked at her.

It was nothing.

Just a casual offer.

Still, her brain scrambled for a second, words tangling.

“For the cooler weather,” she said, aiming for easy, casual, totally normal. “Not for you or anything.”

Paige’s mouth twitched, the tiniest smile.

“Right,” she said, and let her eyes close again, as if she hadn’t just thrown Azzi’s heart into an Olympic-level gymnastics routine.

Azzi leaned back into her seat, letting the hum of the engines fill the cabin, letting herself breathe.

The summer break stretched ahead of them now.

For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel heavy.

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 5

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[Series Masterlist]

Content Warning: some cutesy shit

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It started with her hands.

Not in the poetic, romantic way he was afraid it would, but in the way they moved when she was talking, fast and animated, like they had to help her get the words out. He’d noticed it the first time they presented a case together to the surgical team: how she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear mid-sentence without realizing it, how her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the chart when she was nervous.

It was subtle. Innocent. But it stuck.

Robby had made a career out of noticing things other people missed. That was his job—track vitals, patterns, bleeding underneath the surface. He wasn’t supposed to notice things like the way Dr. Williams tilted her head when she was listening, or how she smiled with one corner of her mouth first. But here he was.

And once he noticed Y/N, he couldn’t un-notice her.

She didn’t walk around the ER so much as moved through it—like she belonged, like the fluorescent lights had grown around her. She had this way of making space wherever she was, a quiet confidence that didn’t need to raise its voice. Robby didn’t know when exactly he’d started watching her more than was professionally necessary, but he was definitely past that point now.

They had been working together for a month now, and he found himself looking forward to it in a way that was deeply concerning.

Not that he was going to act on it.

He was 15 years her senior, and he didn’t date doctors. He’d made that mistake once, and he’d barely survived the fallout. The drama, the whispers, the impossible tension that hung over every shared shift. He wasn’t going to let that happen again.

But Y/N was making it really fucking hard to remember why.

They had offered to swap to night shift to relieve some of the doctors attending Dr. Walsh’s wedding.

It was close to 2 a.m. when he caught her laughing in the hallway.

Not the polite kind, either. The real kind. Head thrown back, a hand on her stomach, laughter that startled even her. It echoed off the tile like something alive. Whittaker had made a joke—poorly, Robby assumed—and Y/N was clearly humoring him. But it worked.

Robby stood at the end of the corridor, chart in hand, pretending to scroll through labs while his brain tried to ignore the stupid little tug in his chest.

She saw him as the laughter faded, and her smile softened instantly. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Didn’t know you were still human at this hour.”

“I transcend human after midnight,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

He didn’t answer right away. He was too caught in the way the soft overhead light hit her face, the way exhaustion looked almost... graceful on her.

“You should sit,” he finally said. “You’ve been running around since 7.”

“So have you.”

“I hide it better.”

“Debatable.” She smiled again, smaller now, but it still hit him like something he wasn’t ready for.

He looked away first.

They ended up restocking supplies together an hour later. It wasn’t assigned—just one of those unspoken things where they both show up in the same place at the same time when they’re not ready to face reality.

He watched her sort gauze and tongue depressors with unnecessary precision. She always did that when she was trying not to say something.

“You ever sleep?” he asked casually, leaning against the metal shelf.

“Not recently. I power nap. Like a cat.”

He smirked. “Should’ve guessed.”

“You?”

“Sleep?” He shrugged. “I try. Doesn’t always stick.”

There was a beat of quiet while she dropped a handful of saline flushes into the drawer.

“You’re different at night,” she said suddenly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Less... sharp. More human.”

“Sharp?”

“You know what I mean,” she said. “During the day, you’re kind of intimidating. At night, you’re…” She trailed off, eyes flicking toward him.

“Less scary?”

“Still a little scary. But in a grumpy mentor kind of way.”

He chuckled, caught off guard by how warm that made him feel. “You trying to flatter me, Williams?”

“I’m just stating facts.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched her finish the drawer and close it with a soft click.

“Do I intimidate you?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She looked up at him, her expression soft. “Not the way you think.”

And then she left.

He stood there alone for a few seconds too long, staring at the now perfectly aligned drawer of saline flushes.

It wasn’t the way she said it that got to him—it was the look in her eyes. That she meant it. That something between them had shifted, almost imperceptibly, but real enough to make his chest feel uncomfortably tight.

He didn’t intimidate her.

Not the way he thought.

And for the first time in a long time, Robby wasn’t sure if that scared him—or made him want to keep following her down the hallway until she turned around and said whatever was really on her mind.