#C-RAN Market

[agayconcept]

.

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ TAKE SOME TIME ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: You Confined In ENA After Being Trapped In Her Reality For A Long While

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Reader pronouns: Not Specified

★ Genre: Short Story, SFW

★ Word Count: 1265

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

You don’t remember when ENA first took your hand. It probably wasn’t a momentous gesture, not even a gesture at all—just something that happened mid-monologue, mid-run, mid-deal gone haywire. One moment you were flinching at the yelling sky and the stairs that ran sideways, and the next you were being tugged forward by a mitten hand and a clawed one, ENA in her stripy suspenders skipping confidently into nonsense.

“THE BATHROOM IS THAT WAY,” she’d declared, pointing at a blinking neon orb hanging in a tree. You’d learned not to ask questions by then. Or at least not ones with answers.

Now you were in some place called the Marketplace of Ephemeral Trades, which ENA explained was either:

A) a bazaar where you could exchange your current mood for another,

B) a job fair for imaginary careers,

C) a scam,

or D) “YES.”

You cradled your overpriced juice (it tasted like memories of kindergarten) and tried not to wince every time someone’s head turned into fruit or a phone began sobbing behind a stall.

“I’ve been considering investing in… wrist confidence,” Salesperson ENA said thoughtfully, adjusting her cap. “Strong wrists? Very persuasive. Not for strangulation, of course—unless I’m pitching a mob boss.”

“Or resisting an existential collapse,” you mumbled.

“Exactly! Cross-marketability!”

She was always like this. Half-interested, half-deep, half-jumping-through-sentient-hula-hoops just to get from point A to point Q. Even Meanie ENA (the one that barked into megaphones and cursed at sand) didn’t entirely know what they were doing. You were pretty sure no one in this world did.

But ENA made it survivable.

Even now, walking through this marketplace of wiggling perspectives and twitchy signs, she kept one eye on you. Not always the same eye. Sometimes it was a triangle, sometimes it blinked wrong. But she noticed when you stumbled, or when you flinched at a too-loud bell someone mistook for a baby.

“Would you like to scream into a pillow-sized coupon?” she offered helpfully. “It’s scented like meh.”

“I’m okay,” you said, lying like a badge pinned to your chest.

You weren’t okay.

You hadn’t been for a long time.

You’d been in this world—her world—for… you weren’t sure. Time made pancake flips here, randomly deciding to burn one side. It might’ve been days, or it might’ve been a second you couldn’t stop dreaming about. You didn’t exactly arrive so much as leak into the place, like a coffee spill no one cleaned up.

You remembered routine.

Waking up, brushing teeth, emails, masking smiles, fluorescent lights at the grocery store that made your spine crawl, being praised for doing things “normally” and then wondering if anyone actually knew what normal meant.

Now you lived in ENA’s pockets.

Sometimes literally. The striped ones were deceptively deep.

That night—if you could call it night, when the moon rotated between cartoon faces and equations—was the first time ENA invited you somewhere quiet.

Not funny quiet, not wrong quiet, not “we’re inside a living teacup that gurgles when we speak” quiet. Just quiet.

The “room” was a slow, dark hill that unfolded like a crumpled napkin. There were no walls. Just fog that politely minded its business. The stars above you flickered like old VCR static.

“THIS is the Department of Melancholy,” ENA whispered.

“…Is that real?”

Meanie ENA’s voice rumbled in the air beside you. “Of course it’s not real, YOU SUBURBAN SOCK MONKEY. It’s a name, not a tax form.”

But she didn’t sound angry. Not like usual.

“Why bring me here?” you asked, curling your knees to your chest. You didn’t want to be difficult. You just… always felt like a weird puzzle piece from the wrong box. In the real world. In this one too. Always.

“Because the other rooms were laughing at me,” said ENA flatly. “I required a setting that wouldn’t say snide things about my mental architecture.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. Loudly.

She turned to you, red side grinning like a birthday card.

“There it is,” she said, and leaned in, whispering like a market secret: “My favorite sound.”

The moment stretched. Not heavy. Just slow. You watched the mist blink around you, yawning in fractals. Somewhere in the distance, a vending machine wept coins.

“…Hey,” you said.

“HEY!” ENA echoed, then blinked. “Sorry. Habit.”

“No, it’s okay. Just… Can I be serious for a second?”

“Oh,” she said. “Are you dying?”

“What? No!”

“Oh. Good. Then yes, absolutely. Be serious. I’ll just… mm.” She dramatically zipped her mouth with a finger and tossed the invisible key into a puddle that squeaked.

You sighed. Looked up at the static stars. And let the words come out without shame. Without mask.

“This world,” you said slowly. “Still doesn’t make sense to me. Even after everything.”

ENA didn’t interrupt.

You swallowed, letting yourself feel the weight.

“And back home… the real world, I mean. That didn’t make sense either. It felt like I was wrong all the time. Too slow. Too fast. Too weird. Too—much. I had routines, I had ways to cope. But I never really fit.”

You didn’t cry. You weren’t going to cry. It wasn’t like that.

It wasn’t sadness. It was just…Truth.

“Not even in a sad way. Just… like I was never built for any of it. There, here, anywhere.”

You waited for her to make a joke. To pivot. To change the subject.

Instead, you felt her sit closer.

“…We are not in business with the universe,” ENA said softly. “The contract was written in invisible ink, and our manager keeps changing shape.”

“…What?”

“I’m saying,” she said, voice gentler than usual, “That what you’re feeling? That’s a reasonable response to unreasonable worlds.”

You laughed once, quietly. “You always say weird stuff like that.”

“Yes. But I always mean it.”

You turned your head.

She was looking at you with both sides now. Meanie and Salesperson. Stern and soft.

“You’re an anomaly,” she said. “But anomalies are just patterns nobody has seen enough to understand.”

“…Yeah,” you said. “But I’m tired of being an exception.”

Silence, thick as syrup.

“Then don’t be.”

“Huh?”

Her voice dropped low. Honest.

“Be a constant.”

“What, like a math problem?”

“No. Like a home.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“People think of ‘home’ as a place. A static object. A hearth, a hallway. But I’ve seen those. I’ve been inside castles made of teeth and apartments that bleed. And none of them felt like anything.” She tapped your shoulder with her claw-hand. “You? You feel like something.”

Your voice came out, wobbly and stunned. “So do you.”

She tilted her head.

“ENA,” you said quietly, “You’re the only thing in this whole twisted reality that feels like home. Not in a… weird way. Not in a way where I need you to survive or whatever. But…”

You looked down at your hands.

“When I’m with you, I don’t feel like I have to pretend. I can exist. And that’s enough.”

She was quiet.

Too quiet.

You glanced up—and for once, saw both sides frozen.

Not yelling. Not selling. Not emoting.

Just… stunned.

You panicked. “Oh god. Was that too much? I wasn’t trying to—”

“No no no—SHUT UP, YOU EMOTIONAL CAVIAR,” Meanie ENA snapped.

Salesperson ENA broke in immediately: “Wha—what she means is—give us a second. Buffering.”

“Buffering?!”

“YES, buffering! You can’t just drop the ‘home’ word in a dreamland! That’s practically marriage!!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?! That’s not what I meant—”

“I KNOW,” they both said in unison. Then paused.

And then, softer, ENA added:

“But I’m glad you meant what you did.”

[jam3sacaster]

“Don’t waste your time with him.” PT 1.

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by my sweet heart anon 🫶🏽 / Your uncle, Freddie Jones, introduces you to his new business partners, and you end up wishing he didn’t…

18+ FANFIC / SMUTTY, angsty, hot, in love. Longer than usual so I apologise and hope you don’t take a nap halfway through. Reader character aged 21. As always, request what you wanna see in my asks 💋

Desperate to escape the exhausting bustle of London, it had been agreed some weeks ago that you were to stay at your uncle, Freddie Jones’, Manor House in Rutshire. He had mentioned, vaguely, over the phone about his new business idea and that your expertise in marketing would provide a real asset. Pulling into the extravagant driveway at 8am sharp, you slam your car door shut and pull three substantial cases from the boot. “Darlin!” The familiar accent chimed as your moustached uncle threw open his front door, walking towards you with outstretched arms. Dropping your cases to the floor, you ran to meet him, embracing in a tight, meaningful hug. “I’m so glad you see you.” You exhaled, already feeling the stresses of London melting away. You had always been incredibly close to your uncle, but his newfound wealth and social status and upheaved him from his family and everyday life and plunged him into Rutshire. “Leave the cases. Someone will bring them up for you.” He nodded, taking your hand and leading you into his remarkable home.

“Hello, darlin!” Your auntie Valerie peeped from the doorway, momentarily giving you an uncomfortable, cramped hug. “You’ll have to excuse Fred Fred for an hour, he’s having a business meeting.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke. Embarrassed, Freddie looked down at his feet, but still mustered a smile for you. “Don’t worry about that, come in and meet them. I can tell you all about our new business plan, it’s fuckin’ incredible.” He spoke, beaming to himself now as Val pottered her way outside into her lavish garden. Opening the door to his office, Freddie ushered you in and boomed to the two men standing inside. “Gents, this is my beautiful niece, she’s staying with me for a while and she was an absolute marketing genius down in London. Darlin, this is Rupert-Campbell Black, Minister for Sport, and Declan O’Hara, former star of Declan on Corinium.” He introduced you. Declan tutted at the very mention of the C-word.

“Hello.” You spoke gently, awkwardly glancing between the two men. They quickly exchanged the necessary response to you, and gathered Freddie round the table, mumbling statistics that were far beyond understanding. “Sit, sit.” Freddie tapped the seat beside you, and you hesitantly obliged. Scanning your eyes over their scrawled out business plans, Rupert took the seat beside you, leaning over you slightly to point at some arbitrary on the paper. The potent, saccharine aroma of his aftershave wafting into your nostrils. As he retreated his hand, it brushed across yours softly, making your jump gently in shock. “Sorry.” He muttered, looking up at you and presenting you with a faint smile. Time stood still for a moment as your eyes interlocked contact — Rupert’s eyes softening in lust, yours in affection. “So,” Freddie’s hands slapped against the wooden desk, “We’ll have lunch, a couple of drinks and then get back to it.” He rubbed your shoulder and grinned at you, mouthing shortly after ‘You okay?’, to which you nodded.

Standing up from your chair and making your way into the garden, you breathed in the soft fragrance from the luxurious assemblage of flowers — Soft, pastelled hydrangeas, electric primroses, and properly preened roses of scarlet red and crisp white. You wrapped your soft, knitted lavender cardigan around your torso and squinted slightly under the subtle early morning sun. “London then, eh? Whereabouts?” An aristocratic voice sounded from behind you, cigarette smoke clouding the aroma from the flowers. “Kensington. I worked for a marketing agency, but they ended up thinking I was some kind of businesswoman so I ended up marketing a few television shows.” You reply, turning around slightly to see Rupert Campbell-Black stood, top button of his pastel blue shirt undone.

“Hmm. You’ll be a great asset to the team then. We could use your expertise.” He internally rolled his eyes as he spoke. There was nothing more dull and droning than boring a beautiful young lady with business. “Declan seems nice.” You reply, cheeks delicately glowing a rosy hue. To this, Rupert raised an arched eyebrow — appearing confused but a painful tinge of jealousy coursing through his veins. “Don’t waste your time with him. He’s… emotionally unavailable. His wife just fucked off back to London.” He chuckles abruptly, taking a long puff of his cigarette. Your supple lips pouted, feeling a rather strong wave of sympathy for Declan — partly for his wife leaving, partly for Rupert divulging such personal information to you. “I’m up at Penscombe Court, should you ever need to visit. To talk business and such. Or maybe more.” He winked, and you snickered, shaking your head softly. “Thank you. I’ll-umm… remember that.” You respond, making your way back inside.

Back in the office, Freddie was pacing up and down on his mobile, hand struggling to clasp around the thickened brick of a phone, and the antenna wafting around after him. Declan, muttering to himself under his breath, was sat at the desk, scribbling on an a5 piece of paper. “Drink?” You ask him, and he takes a moment to respond. “Sorry, love. Umm… yes, please. Just a soft one.” He replies, curling his bottom lip into an awkward smile. Temporarily migrating to the kitchen and walking back with a teeming jug of lemonade, laden with ice cubes and slices of fresh lemon, alongside four glasses. Pouring one out for everyone, Declan thanked you as you sat bedside him. “Sooo… what are you working on?” You ask, leaning into him to look over his shoulder. “Just a few pitch docs, jus’ throwin’ some ideas around.” Declan replied, but placed his pen back onto the table and sat back in his chair. “How old are ya?”

“21.” You meekly squeak, his presence intimidating. “And you’re already a marketin’ expert? Ya’ must be really good.” A reassuring smile plastered across his face as he spoke, and took a quick swig of his lemonade. “Well, I don’t know about that. I think Uncle Fred has made me seem a lot better than I actually am.” Freddie looks as you as you speak, smiling through his tedious phone conversation. “I’ve been propositioned already by Mr Campbell-Black.” You sigh, to which Declan shakes his head in disbelief. “Honestly, that man. There’s not a woman on the planet that he wouldn’t ride. Don’t waste your time with him.”

As the evening grew piercingly cold, the budding Venturer team roamed to the living room — television on, fire crackling and tumblers of amber whiskey flowing. You felt small amongst the room of men, talking too loudly and laughing too obnoxiously. Freddie was talking Rupert’s ear off, and that now familiar look of disinterest on Rupert’s face gave it all away. You grinned at him with twinkling eyes as he screwed his face up jokingly towards you at your uncle’s surely riveting conversation. “Whenever ya’ free, and ya’ wanna talk strategies, let me know and we can call a meeting.” Declan spoke, now drunk and stumbling over his words. “This isn’t your way of trying to flirt is it?” You ask, rolling your eyes and pouring yourself an offensively large glass of Sauvignon Blanc. “Trust me, darlin’, you’d know if I was trying to flirt.” All of a sudden, it wasn’t a joke anymore. His tone was low and gruff, and his eyes sharpened. “Maybe we should talk business now?” You suggest, inching your voice towards his. Without responding, Declan rose from the sofa and entered the office. To avoid arising suspicion, you get up a few moments later, with a half-arsed excuse about needing to use the bathroom. Barely waiting for you to close the office door behind you, Declan crashed his lips into yours, pinning you to the wall as the sounds of your colliding lips fought for dominance over your passionate groans.

•

Sliding his hand under your blue floral frock, Declan rubbed his thumb over your slit, the friction of your pants sending a jolt through your body. “Wet for me already?” He asked into your ear, before pulling your pants to the side and gliding two fingers inside you. You yelped in pleasure as his fingers immediately curled towards your g-spot. The frantic passion of the seductive man increased your groans, as you brought your hand down to rub his growing cock over his jeans. “Do you want me on my knees?” You asked with a smirk. Declan opened his mouth to speak, but —

The doorknob turned, and you both desperately panicked to straighten yourselves out. Smoothing down your dress as Declan turned around, in attempt to hide his hard-on from whoever was to enter the room. “Darlin?” Your uncle asked, and you perked your head up innocently. “You okay?”

“Yes, Uncle Freddie. Declan was just… picking my brains.” You chime, turning around slightly to check for his reaction. He suppressed a smirk, and nodded in agreement towards Freddie. Unsuspecting as always, Freddie smiled in contentment and closed the door behind him. “Fuck, that was close. Jesus feckin’ Christ, you turned me into an animal.” Declan wheezed into laughter. You stepped towards him and lifted his hand, sucking his brutish fingers that were, moments ago, inside of you. “Fuck.” He growled in response, running a course hand over his hair. You opened the office door and stepped out, Declan following close behind and giving you a playful snack on your behind that made you yelp. Freddie stood by the door, phone to his ear and speaking nonsense to a pretend caller. He was watching, and keeping a close eye.

•

“Cigarette?” Rupert’s voice spoke from the kitchen towards Declan. You hear Declan decline, and make your way into the kitchen to refill your drink. “You?” He asks, and you nod your head in response as you take a few, very-needed sips of wine. Pulling your uncle Freddie’s lighter from the countertop, you follow the suited man into the garden, taking a quick seat on the frosted wooden bench as Rupert stood above you. He lit his cigarette, and leant down to your level, lighting yours with the blaze within his.

“Finding us insufferable already?” He teased, taking a step back. Shaking your head and puffing your cigarette, your mind could barely muster a response as you envisioned the sound of Declan’s groans and the way his fingers hooked inside of you. “Umm… no. You’re both very nice, actually.”

“Hmm. Declan’s a bit of a cunt but we fair well for ourselves. Think any more about my offer?” He asks, sitting beside you now. “Not yet. How do I know you’re not some chauvinistic Casanova that wants to add me to your long list of conquests?” Raising an arched eyebrow as you speak. Rupert raises his hands in defeat, chuckling to himself that he’d been completely rumbled. You chuckle half-heartedly, semi-believing your own joke. “Well, let’s forget business. I don’t believe in waiting for something you desire. You’re a beautiful girl, and I’d like to take you to dinner.” He declared, taking a long drag of his cigarette and rubbing his thumb over your silky cheek. Taken aback by his rather attractive forwardness and gently biting your lip, you tilt your head upwards at the gentleness of his touch. The bitter evening silence in the garden was comforting — solemnly tranquil, interrupted only by autumn leaves tumbling in the wind and the occasional croaking of a frog in the grass. Even more beautiful still, the heavens opened up to unleash a downpour of of rain. Luckily, the bench was tucked under the porch, but one could still admire the serene display of nature.

Keeping your head tilted towards him, he ran his thumb from your cheek to your lips, lining the top lip, and then the bottom. So enamoured with desire, you could barely breath. He gently pushed his thumb into your mouth, making contact with your tongue. Keeping it there for a moment, he paused and spoke .. “You are magnificent.”

“Darlin’? Are you comin’ in? It’s rainin’ cats and dogs out there.” Freddie’s voice beckoned you from the kitchen window, catching a slight glimpse of the scene unfolding on his garden porch. Taking his time, Rupert removed his thumb from your mouth and stubbed out his cigarette against the brick wall. “You know where I am, angel. Don’t hesitate.” He expressed solemnly, as you collected yourself and went to join your uncle.

“Be careful, darlin’. You’re playing with fire.” Your uncle Freddie warned.

[teatreeoilll]

w/c: 750 Part I - A drabble - headcanon thingy of our favorite king of red flags curses, set in a Heian-era village. i dunno anymore. | Part 2 here

Childhood!FriendSukuna who first met you as he stood at the brink of death.

"Mom, hey, mom." You tugged at her sleeve, directing her gaze at a frail boy, about seven or eight, on the verge of collapse behind the village market stall, "Can I give him an apple?" It's a bad month, she thought, glancing at the contents of her basket; this kindness might cost an empty stomach later on.

"No dear, he'll be fine." But you already ran off with an apple, your tiny legs making their way to the sickly boy.

"Here," you held the apple in front of his face, to which he narrowed his eyes, extending a scrawny arm to smack it away.

"I don't need your trash." He barked, his voice harsh as he gathered saliva in his mouth, spitting at your feet, “Peasant.”

As soon as your mother dragged you away, he picked up the apple, eating it whole.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who didn’t mind the insults the villagers threw at him while he was knee-deep in mud, plowing the fields for a cup of stale rice in the evenings.

"That brat is cursed," the whispers would grow amidst the village's council meetings, "If we stop feeding him, he'll leave."

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, whose malnourished limbs betrayed him as he fell face first on the rice terrace with the hot sun still ablaze on his back.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who woke up almost a day later under an unknown ceiling, fever gnawing at his head under a wet cloth.

"Mom! Mom!" You shrieked from the corner of the room, "He's awake!" and a woman came in with a warm cup of tea, the taste of which lingered on his tongue as he drifted back to sleep.

"Let me die, brat." His hoarse voice was still weak when he came back to his senses as you placed a fresh, dampened cloth over his forehead.

"My name's not 'brat,'" you informed with a scoff, "It's (Name); what's yours?"

Too ashamed to admit he didn’t know the answer, he turned away and closed his eyes.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, whose mouth hung agape when you pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead one night while muttering, 'mother told me that a kiss can heal any sickness'.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, who disappeared as soon as he found the strength to walk again, returning to the fields only to find that the farmer's wife would no longer spare him dried-out rice when he finished a day's work.

"They should have let him die," he heard the farmer's wife proclaim through the thin walls of the cabin, "That self-righteous linen maker and her irritating daughter. That brat probably cursed them, too."

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who killed the farmer and his wife, unleashing a torrent of power he never knew resided within him; some kind of strange magic, he thought, wondering if the whispers of curses were more than the village gossip. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood, and for the first time, he could breathe.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who disappeared after the crime, only to emerge a decade later, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake as he razed and burned each village in his path - laughing as he watched the terror-stricken villagers bow at his feet, crying and begging and dubbing him devil.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who spared you as the village you once called home turned to ashes around you.

"I owe no debt to you now." He announced.

Tears pooled in your eyes, and a scream escaped your lips as you broke down on your knees before him, "I should have listened," you wailed, fingers clawing at the dry dirt beneath you, "They said you were cursed," you hurled a mass of dirt at him, hitting his chest, "They said the devil came to the village the day you were born."

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who passed through the village again the next day, just to see you lying between the rubble, limbs sprawled on the dirt and ashes.

"I've extended you kindness." He said, covering the sun with his frame as he loomed over you, "Leave."

And you laughed, shaking and howling until the sides of your body started stinging, and the words came out as mere gasps; "And go where?"

"Wherever you wish."

"Home," You declared, locking eyes with his confused expression, "I want to go home."

You weren’t sure what sick thoughts ran through his mind when he leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your forehead, so you smiled, his face still a mere inch away from yours; "It's my fault." you confessed, "So, the next time we meet, I'll fix it, okay?" A deadpan expression took over as you added, "I'll kill you myself."

-

[bartxnhood]

blown away | t.o

tyler owens x fem!reader

based on this request: Is it possible to request a Tyler fic where he and reader are in an established relationship, she knows what his job is like. And they get separated during the big tornado that blows through at the end of the movie. Desperate for a toothrotting soft and angsty reunion.

warnings: depictions of tornado, reader gets a few cuts a scrapes, maybe a swear word or two.

w/c: 823

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2024 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

“okay, baby” tyler begins, shutting the back door on the passenger side of his truck. “we’re headin out”

he turns around to face you, his hands resting on your hips. you frown as you drape your arms over his shoulders. “m’gonna miss you” you say. tyler smiles, “i’ll be back, promise” he said, then leaned in to press a soft kiss on your lips. “always come back to you” he says in between the kiss.

“m’gonna go to the farmers market later, call me when yer comin home. kay?” your hands intertwined with the hair on the naps of his neck.

“mhm” he hums, leaning in to kiss you again. his arms snaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

you giggle in between the kisses, his hands squeeze your ass in a playful manner. “ty!” you pull away, face red.

“what? can’t i show a little appreciation?” he teases, raising his eyebrows. you shake your head, “you’re something else.”

“you be safe, kay?” tyler asks, and you nod. “i always am, babe.” you assure with a peck on his cheek.

“don’t keep the crew waitin.”

the small town was bustling with activity as the farmers market was in full swing. the town square was filled with stands selling fresh produce, handcrafted goods, and home-cooked food.

farmers and merchants from neighboring towns had set up stands to sell their goods. the air was filled with the sound of people bartering and chatting with each other.

children squealed and ran around, playing games and sampling treats from the vendors. the small town was a picturesque scene of rural life on a beautiful spring day.

but, it changed in an instant.

the fierce winds howled like an angry beast as the destructive tornado ripped through the town, leaving a path of destruction and chaos in its wake. the twister tore through buildings, uprooted trees, and sent debris flying through the air.

amidst the chaos, you found ducked into the theater as the tornado roared towards the town. the doors slammed shut behind you, cutting you off from the outside world. you looked around, seeing people huddled together, kids crying, and people crying and screaming.

the only light coming from the emergency lights that faintly illuminated the aisles. as the wind howled outside, you could hear the windows of the theater crack and break, and the sound of chairs and other objects being tossed about.

in the distance, you could hear the sound of people calling out names, no doubt other people who had sought shelter in the theater.

the stormed roared like some sort of beast, ripping the foundations from the theater.

it was truly a horrific sight, people were getting swept away from their loved ones. ear piercing screams and wailing accompanied the roaring storm.

you watched the scene unfold, unsure if you’d be walking out of there alive. you peer your head above one of the theater seats and watch as the wall was ripped away, swallowed by the storm.

“oh, mygod..” you breathe and hunker back down and cover your head with your arms. just like tyler had taught you to do.

tyler finally arrived in the midst of a chaotic situation. he knew you were somewhere nearby. despite the chaos and danger all around, his focus was on only one thing: finding you.

he navigated through the debris-filled streets, scanning the surroundings for any sign of you.

the roaring wind and ominous darkness made it difficult to see anything clearly, but he pushed forward, determined to find you.

tyler knew he was too late, the town was almost flattened. trees uprooted, buildings gone, debris littered the streets.

he hopped out of his truck, the crew following behind him to help the people who fell victim to the storm.

“y/n?!” he hollers, watching people slowly emerge from the rubble.

“baby?!”

tyler finally spotted you walking out of what once was the theater. you look around, your face smeared with dirt and clothes torn, shivering slightly as you tried to regain your composure.

you look around the state of the city, hugging yourself and sniffling.

as he made his way towards you, he couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over him. you looked up at him as he approached, and hour eyes widened in recognition before you stood up, launching yourself into his arms.

“oh, thank god.” he breaths, wrapping his arms around you. “you okay?” he pulls back to push some hair from your face to examine for any injuries.

“m’fine..” you nod. your eyes begin to water as you look up at him. “there was no warning..”

“i know, i know” he hushes your worries and pulls you back to your chest. “it’s okay, you’re okay now” he runs his fingers through your hair, swaying you two back and forth.

“we’ll get you checked out and then go home, kay?” he suggests and you nod. “mmkay.”

[sorcerous-caress]

I'm so jealous of Daniil. Having only played the Haruspex route so far in both game, each time I'm invited to the Bachelor's place I turn green with envy at how he resides at an actual proper house with a real room and a real bed.

A real bed with a whole bedframe. A pillow with an actual pillowcase!! His bed even has sheets!

He has WINDOWS. His house is in a nice neighbourhood, and his roommate is a very attractive woman. There is actual furniture in his room. Not one hint of fungus growing on the walls or rust!

Can you imagine living there as your lair? Spending the whole game knowing you have a real house with a real bed to go back to at the end of each night? Seeing Eva's face every day before leaving to do quests?

Meanwhile, Artemy is stuck in this dumpster room of an abandoned factory. Cuddling with rats on his makeshift bed, held by nothing but a wooden panel, some boxes and a dream.

A pillow so yellow it has its own ecosystem where bugs established real estate. Is that even a pillow or is it some random rock Artemy found and chucked in there? Is it a stale loaf of bread?? Why is it hard looking?

But no, you don't even get to keep the rock roach pillow because in P2, they take it away.

Fuck you Artemy, you had it good for too long. No pillow now because what are you gonna do about it?. Fold your mattress instead to have a resemblance of a faux sense of protection under your most vital organ during the long hours of death rehearsal that you call sleep.

Somehow, they made the bed even more unstable looking. As if that thin panel in the middle could hold Artemy's weight without caving in. Oh, and apparently, I ran out of boxes to use for furniture because the bed and the table have to share custody of the same box.

We have downgraded into barrels now, as you can see :) No, I don't know what they used to contain inside.

Waking up every day to Sticky's snotty face telling me not to spit in the wind and nagging me about cleaning up the week-old human organs thrown around that are stinking up the place.

THERE IS MOLD GROWING ON MY WALLS. RUST FLAKES FALL FROM THE EXPOSED METAL PIPES DOWN INTO MY CEREAL EACH BREAKFAST.

This single wall holds so much mold and fungus that they started crossbreeding and evolved into new, never seen before types of bacteria. Satan's asscrack is more hygienic than whatever biohazard plagues of Egypt this slab of concrete contains.

I live in the gutters. My only neighbours are an illegal gang of minors with a hatred for furries and another illegal gang but of adults this time who sell me bullets way above the market price. A dangerous neighbourhood where you can't have shit because SOMEONE STOLE MY BULL.

The basement I reside in has no windows, the smell is pungent and fucking vile down here. There isn't even a space for a bathroom.

This is my kitchenette/bathroomette/showerette/cupboardette/surgery tools disinfection stationette/sinkette/watercoolerette/toilette/fridge.

also my buckets yk.

One bucket for the makeshift bathroom, another for holding important organs and loose guts during surgery, a third one as a cooking pot for making tasty meat grub soup and the final one for murky water after sweeping the floor.

What do I use to tell them apart? Oh nothing :) I just mix em up every now and then, oppsie daisy.

Oh and the floors are CONSTANTLY wet for some reason. Yeah sticky slipped and almost broke his neck the other day so watch your steps.

There is also this eerie room with literal garbage and broken furniture right next to the entrance. Don't worry about it, sometimes I hear someone crying and screaming for help when I'm trying to go to sleep but it's just the factory being silly lol.

Now this? This is where the M A G I C happens. This is where Artemy the Menkhu makes his famous herbal remedies and natural mixtures. This is where the Panacea for the infamous sand plague gets made!

In a rusty empty food can.

Falling into a bucket with shit stains.

MEDICINE BABBYYY. GET YOUR WEAK SOFT BONED ASS BACK TO THE CAPITAL BITCH, THIS IS HOW REAL MEN MAKE REAALLL MEDICINE!! RAWRRRRR🦅🦅💥💥

Meanwhile, dickovsky has the view of the cathedral and polyhedron just around the corner from where he resides. He has a backyard with a lake, and all I have is a swamp behind my basement. I trudge through the mud each night, collecting weeds and herbs to mix and trade so I and the two orphans who adopted themselves into my life don't go starving.

Not to mention the gaggles of herb brides loitering outside and giving me a false bad reputation.

That dandy douchbag has a pharmacy, a grocery, and a tailor right next door. The closest establishment to my shrekcore place of resident is a dingy basement bar with shady drinks and no bouncer to check for ID, I saw two kids in there once.

Pov: a qt3.14 surgeon says his dad isn't home and invites you over.

[lokisgoodgirl]

An Offering [Asgard! Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki's lack of carnal exploits have caused chaos in Asgard- and something must be done. (w/c 2.7k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki POV. Smut. Language. Ridiculous lore.

Loki’s eyes scanned the lines on the page, uncrossing his ankles before immediately crossing them again.

He was restless. His manhood twitched as he re-read words he had missed in one endless, sprawling sentence. An annal of the wars of Muselpheim. It was the least erotic tome in his personal collection. These days, it didn’t take much.

He cast a glance out the window, wondering what carnage his unspent power was causing at the present time. Had a ghostly tidal wave risen and washed out the harbour town? A curse which made food taste like ash? An unfamiliar steed trotting through the mountain villages with an insatiable appetite for the bemused inhabitants worldly goods?

Loki didn’t know. All he knew was that he didn’t want to see anyone.

It was humiliating. His mother’s voice filled his ears against his will, the memory making his ears burn. You must copulate with someone Loki. Anyone; she had said calmly, her cheeks faintly pink. Chaos is building within you, if it is not released...naturally – then your seidr will find a way to expel itself in other ways,’

Loki shook his head, the familiar clench of embarrassment twisting in his stomach. A belch of smoke began twisting skyward in the distance from the market. It was green. He sighed, shutting the book on his lap and placing it to the side of the window-seat. If he concentrated, he could feel magic leaking from his pores like sweat. It bubbled through the air around him, the faint scent of tart spiced lemongrass following him around. Taunting him. Chaos.

And it would only get worse. “What am I to do with you?” he mumbled, staring down at his crotch. It stirred in response.

“Ah, yes, but you see, we want the same thing-” he crooned, as if to a friend. Or indeed, a foe. “The way they talk they would have me thrust you upon any diseased cretin from the alleys by the square.” He looked out the arch, the heavy emerald smog beginning to settle over half of Asgard. “But we are better than that,” he muttered.

A low chorus of coughing had begun to rise and echo around the high towers of the citadel. Loki grimaced. “I do hope it’s not poisonous,” he mumbled to himself.

There was a knock at the door. “Gods…” Loki sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall in frustration. Will they not let me alone.

It had become abundantly clear months ago that taking care of his sexual gratification by hand was not sufficient to quell the tide of magical energy coursing through his veins. Flesh, was what was required. A second heartbeat. An offering of the basest kind.

The instances of chaotic overspill had started small – batches of grain turning to sand, mirrors losing their reflection in the palace; but as the need for release grew, so did his frustration.

There was a reason that his familiar bedfellows had fallen out of favour. He caused too much angst. Too much heartbreak, that much was clear. They were satisfied for a time, but tormented in their limbo for his affection. Or his title. But they could never be her. He could see it in their eyes, the realisation when they felt him leave their cooling beds. It was not their fault.

He could not have her. She did not know or care of his existence, not really. Not outside of his garishly rouged face on a mural. Loki was not interested in breaking hearts. Not anymore. Especially his own. And as time when on, and the leakages grew in strength – people were afraid. There was that, too.

The knock came again. With an exasperated exhale, Loki rose. He crossed the room, smoothing his palms down the front of his tunic. Hooking one thumb in the low slung belt around his hips, he tried his best to look menacing as he opened the door. “What do you-”

The frown of annoyance melted to confusion as he ran his gaze over the waiting form in stunned silence. A woman, her face dipped in a light curtsey. Soft tendrils of hair fell around her collarbone like a nymph. “Your highness.” she spoke, keeping her head down. Loki tilted his head. How curious, he pondered as he reached out and gently tipped the woman’s chin up. His breath hitched at the unexpected sultry darkness of her eyes. Familiar. Impossible. “What are you doing here?” he murmured warily, casting a glance around the otherwise empty corridor. “Don’t you know it is dangerous to-” “May I come in, your highness?” she said softly. Loki frowned at the audacity of her interruption. But there was no hint of fear in her lilt, which he respected – and so the god found himself stepping aside.

The hem of her gown rustled on the stone floor, sweeping in a grand circle as she turned to face him. It was cream, the fastening at her bosom which ran down the centre of its length trimmed in the same dark green as the thick smoke currently blocking out the sun. Loki shivered.

“It has been decided that I am to be an offering,” she said haughtily. Her chin was held high, a beacon of poise and cold elegance. Norns, how Loki wanted to ruin her.

But he wouldn't. He shouldn't. Not her.

He stared back in slack-jawed disbelief, before bursting into laughter. He could feel his stomach clench, the peals of mirth taking a greater hold than the situation deserved. But it had been a while since Loki had laughed, among other things.

“My a-a-apologies,” he gasped, extending a hand to pat down her tangible offence. The lady’s arms had folded, a waft of malice washing over the god like a current. He collected himself, smoothing his hair as she looked on. “It’s not you, you are…” he looked the woman up and down, “lovely. Truly. I just...did not expect my family to stoop so low as to enact a farce such as this.”

The woman began to pace in a wide circle, her finger inspecting the wide wooden curve of his bed-frame. She paused, her chin tilting towards him with a wicked glint in her eye.

“It was my idea, actually” she said, beginning to smile as Loki shuffled where he stood. “Your brother took some convincing, but I think that is only since he had eyes for me himself.”

Loki could not find the words. “The armoury cache has turned to salt, you know” she chirped, smiling while she continued an achingly slow tour of his chambers. Loki groaned inwardly as she peered at the books on the nearest shelf, ghosting a fingertip over the spines.

“You have no idea how difficult it is to get a Prince’s attention,” she hummed. “Especially when he locks himself away and denies the ladies of the court an opportunity to flaunt themselves. Desperate action must be taken,” she purred playfully, the fragrant twinge of stinging sarcasm inflaming Loki’s arousal. Was she jesting? A cruel, elaborate trick? Loki decided he must be dreaming.

He cleared his throat, painfully aware of his cock hardening beneath his trousers. Of all days, why had he chosen the satin?

“You are here of your own free will, then?” he managed to say. She nodded, a closed lipped smile pressing against her cheeks. His eyes were drawn to the heave of her cleavage, rising and falling in anticipation before they rose back to her face. Her lips.

"It is a grave offence to lie to a god of Asgard, my lady" he warned, painfully aware of the slowing breaths making his voice thick. He could feel his tongue move, yet the words seemed to belong to another.

“They say it could be dangerous,” she said matter-of-factly, ignoring his ominous overtones. “-Fucking you, I mean.” Loki stared. He was fully hard now, the urge to free himself and have the woman against the nearest bookcase almost overwhelming. She raised her eyebrows, a mischievous smirk curling at the edge of her mouth. “Personally, I think it’s all rather exciting. Don’t you?” “You’re mad,” Loki mumbled, realising with surprise that he was already halfway across the floor. The woman let out a low tinkling laugh, resting an elbow on the shelf. “You’re one to-” Loki’s lips collided with the siren, crashing against her mouth like a tempest. She parted for him, wild hands twisting in his hair as he pressed her against the wood. Her moans of excitement, her breathy pants into his mouth as he caged her. Loki was undone.

His tongue wrestled hers, hands exploring the curves of her body that bucked against his touch. Meaningless words gasped from his lips as her palm slid harshly against his cock, mastering the slide and squeeze along its length.

“Bold, my Prince-” she teased, as his throat worked in grunts and swallows beneath her touch.

“I take nothing which was not already offered, my lady” he keened, thrusting against her hand. Their lips met again, deep curls of muscle enveloping the other in wet need. “And not all which is offered, either” he groaned against her ear. “Not yet.” The woman chuckled, sliding her hands up the velvet of his tunic. She pushed him lightly, making him stumble back like a feather. The backs of his knees hit the bed, falling and landing on the pristine sheets with a bounce.

“Take it then,” she uttered, laden with ceremony. Her eyes smouldered, wild waves falling around her face. Fingertips worked invisible buttons at the bodice of her dress, the middle section of green parting before she shrugged it from her body. Loki gripped the sheets, thighs trembling. “It is here, for you...my Prince.” Loki wet his lips, hungry eyes staggering up every perfect inch of her naked body. Mapping the trail his fingers would take as he sank into each delicious curve. The god felt his thighs widen, the tight trousers he wore an unbearable constraint. With a flex of his fingers, he was as naked as she. “Norns,” she whispered, her eyes wide. She began to pace towards him, a sudden goddess of love and peace and salvation. “You’re even more beautiful than they say.”

Loki barely heard her, transfixed by the supple legs which now straddled him on the edge of his bed. With a sharp intake of breath he let his hands run over the curve of her ass, squeezing gently. In turn, her fingers wrapped around the root of his cock, tugging as she breathed against his cheek.

“How long I have waited for this,” she murmured softly. Loki groaned. He fell back, bringing her with him in an animalistic kiss. He was being rough, he knew that. But he could barely control the deafening roar of unnatural lust. It flowed from him in waves, a roar of static crisping in the air.

“If you feel you are in danger, leave – immediately,” Loki gasped, throwing his head back with a moan while she ground against him. His mussed hair fanned against the sheets. He could feel the well of magic pulsing inside him with the beat of his cock. Like a drum, louder and louder in his ears. “You need this,” she panted, “we all do.”

Loki was tortuously aware of his manhood dancing at the tight slit of her entrance. He felt as a hound did, told to stay itself before a feast table. She moved it in circles, lapping up her wetness. The god groaned again, lips parted to the ceiling. “For Asgard,” she murmured coyly, before sinking fearlessly onto his cock. The cry which strangled itself from Loki’s throat shook books from the shelves. A ripple reverberated from the bed, making stone from the high arches crumble in dusty clouds.

His eyes flew open, and he knew from the reflection in her own that they were dark as a lemurs. The pupils drowning out any colour in his irises; wide. Wild.

Hands flew to her hips and pushed her down as he thrust up, bottoming out. A ringing cry sounded around his chambers. “Good...girl,” he smouldered darkly, an empty echo of past affairs. “Uhhh...y-yes- good girl.” Loki heard his own voice in singular clarity. As rich and foreboding and potent as a tangled forest by moonlight. There was a squelch as he withdrew, before flipping her over. She lay below him now, her features alight with desire and self-satisfaction. Her pretty moans tickled the air as he filled her sweet little cunt to the hilt. Each slap of his hips scraped the bed further across the floor. Ancient mahogany screeching on rough stone. Had sex always felt this good? Loki couldn’t recall.

All he knew was he needed to fuck to the edge of oblivion. Her fingertips dug into the taut flesh of his ass, pulling him deeper. Loki hissed, curls swinging wild over his brow. Flames nested in the torches hung on the walls snuffed out, plunging the room into inky blackness. All that remained, while the cloud of his unspent lust blocked out the sun, was her body. This temple that would restore him. Loki sucked down, teeth grazing a bruising kiss into her shoulder. “Loki,” she whined, moaning like a whore. “More-” And Loki complied. He hoisted her legs over his shoulders. “My benevolent offering,” he muttered in barbed desire, sliding his wet cock inside her inch by tantalising inch. Loki’s eyes rolled back as he hit bottom. Consecration, surely. The torch flames came roaring back to life, licking the very ceiling above them in a tidal wave of primordial heat. The woman gasped, her pussy tightening. More dust fell from the archways, specks swimming in the air as the god punctuated every thrust with a filthy curse known only to he.

She exploded upwards, hooking her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to hers. Their bodies writhed with devilish rhythm, each fluid buck of Loki’s hips making emerald stars explode in a dreamy haze above their heads before melting to nothing. “I’m close,” she panted, tightening her thighs around his hips. Loki growled, his breathing heavy. He could feel the animal inside him rear. The bull. The wolf. The serpent. Ready to feast upon her pleasure like a wasted demon. He pressed down, tugging her clit with slow, wicked waves of his hips.

With a howl of his name, the woman came undone beneath him; her hair sprawled and spilling over the bed’s edge like a sacrifice. The room began to shake. Or was it the palace? Loki didn’t know. Trinkets fell to the floor, smashing. Crashing sounded from the next room, plates, jars of ink splattered like dried blood on the stone. Ancient tomes thudded with morose cracks, a sound which at any other moment would fill the god with despair. But not at this moment.

Every muscle in his body was tensed, primed to detonate. His balls tightened as they slapped her skin, the thundering surge of magic in his body threatening to burst in uncontrollable chaos.

He couldn’t. It was too much, too dangerous. Suddenly her fingers clasped around his jaw, drawing his gaze to hers. It was dreamy. Happy. It was trusting. And brave. That too.

“My Prince,” she whispered softly; a calm in the storm. “Cum for me.” He pressed his forehead to hers, his breathing becoming steadier. The fingernails of her free hand scratched gently between his shoulder-blades, down the curve of his spine.

Loki savoured the heat of her body beneath his, the unrelenting grip of her channel around the root of the realms woes. She worked him fearlessly, lilting her hips up to meet the base of his cock with rhythmic grace. “For me,” she repeated, before placing a gentle kiss over his parted lips. She sucked the bottom one as it released. Loki’s mind was blinded by light. Shuddering, incapacitating pleasure searing through his body as his world went dark.

Orgasm ripped through him like torn leather; fierce and merciless and raw. It rose in an eruption, consuming and obliterating and remaking him as he spent himself inside her.

A shimmering pulse of power emanated from the bed, spreading and rippling through walls as the whole of Asgard felt the release cascading from his veins. From his cock. An aftershock that would be felt through the realm. The god's face was contorted with pleasure. A thick, shaking gasp of exhausted relief was all he could muster as he collapsed in a heap beside his saviour. Moments passed. But truly, it could have been an age.

“Did I say anything?” he panted, utterly spent. “I just felt...-” “-my name,” you finished, running a hand up his chest.

You dragged your fingernails gently down his stomach, sighing happily as the first licks of sunlight appeared through the clearing smog. “I didn’t know you knew it.” “Of course I do,” he murmured. A veil of sleep began to descend while he inhaled the scent of your sex damp hair. Was this a dream?

If it was, Loki hoped he would never dream another.

He turned to you with a lazy smile, eyelashes heavy with the bliss of it all. He was free. And she was here. Her. You. “I did not think you knew mine," he said quietly, before sleep took him.

Tags

@meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @lokischambermaid @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @multifandom-worlds @morgan-wolf @thenotoriouserg @november-rayne

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 16 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: hello loves!! I can’t believe we’ve already come to the end of this series😭 thank you guys so so much for all the love you’ve sent my work and efforts!! Love y’all so much, enjoy reading- and stay tuned for my future fics 🤍🩷

W/C: 4.025

part fifteen

I sigh for the millionth time today, leaning back against the backrest of my chair. I rub my wrists, massaging my fingers and knuckles, groaning in relief when I hear some of them pop.

There were only a handful of matches left in the league, along with the Champions League final. The entire PR and marketing department had been working overtime for a couple days now, wanting to end the season on a high note.

I was so tired and stressed out, internally debating whether to call in sick tomorrow, but there was no way the team could finish all of this without my help.

Since my role in the department has gotten much more important this season, I needed to attend more meetings and calls with a lot of different people.

Never in my life, had I exercised my social skills this much, and it was only a matter of time before my social battery ran so low that I couldn't take interacting with people anymore, without looking like a total jerk.

Though, the generous paycheck that dropped into my back account every month, motivated me to work harder, well, sometimes..

I shift from my position, grabbing a single pen from its holder. Looking back up to my laptop to write down some refreshing and creative questions for the upcoming, very important and widely viewed interviews.

Winning both the national league and the Champions League in the exact same season would be absolutely insane to witness.

I had experienced the feeling in my first season working at the club. After almost three years of getting to know the team and the players who had come and gone, this year would feel even more special.

I had grown closer to the club, not just as an employee but as a supporter as well. I had multiple personal and dear connections with the club.

My father had just renewed his contract with the club. A topic that everyone working for respective companies joked about was the possibility of the agreement not being renewed.

After all these years, both companies had become synonymous with each other.

I had also gotten closer to my colleagues, much closer than I would've ever imagined. Starting this job as an eighteen-year-old, I was incredibly intimidated by the sheer size of the operations behind the scenes.

Of course, juggling both working here and studying for my law degree was hard at first. Work in the morning had switched to the evening when attending the matches.

Study breaks consisting of trying to figure out what interview questions were rubbish and needed to be scrapped, and packing my little suitcase for another trip, only to overpack again.

Thankfully, I had gotten all of my results back from this school year, and I was absolutely over the moon knowing I'd be going for my next year of my degree after summer break.

All my hard work had finally paid off when I saw my grades, and I had celebrated it that night- with working…

The biggest change in my life?

That was the fact that I had actually found love.

Going from hating each other to loving each other was a weird feeling. Even so, Jude and I had been together for almost six months now, and honestly speaking; I had never felt so loved by anyone in the entire world before.

We supported each other wholeheartedly, and it was definitely easier to do than other couples.

Mostly, because we worked together.

Living together for the first few weeks of our relationship, definitely sped up the process of actually getting to know each other. It bonded us faster than I would’ve ever expected.

Looking back, it's difficult to even imagine a world where Jude never moved into my place..

Jude had moved out of my house in the middle of March. He had changed houses following everything that had happened the last few months.

The new house is quite far away from the old, temporary house he lived in, that got broken into. The home was spacious and modern, just like I'd expected before visiting for the first time.

My father and his partners at his firm, had finally built up a proper case to take the intruder to court. I didn't know the specifics because, for some reason I wasn’t allowed to, by both my own father and Jude.

I already knew that the man who had caused so much chaos wasn't getting off the hook easily, and that was enough for me. Knowing any more details about the situation, would probably cause me more stress and anxiety, so I had just learnt to let it go.

I couldn't even lie, lately I had spent more time at Jude’s place than my own. There was something so comforting about it, maybe it was how inviting and cozy it felt.

His friends from England and Germany would always be over, for the simplest of reasons.

Playing games, both board and video ones, watching new movies in the unnecessary, huge cinema room. It created a very fun and friendly atmosphere and made me feel more comfortable than ever.

Jude’s parent’s presence, especially his mother’s- was very much appreciated. I loved chatting to her, from the most mundane things, to the things that I was worried about.

Just like the other women in my life, she gave me guidance and encouragement to keep on going and be even better at anything I wanted to accomplish.

Obviously, there was no way we could keep on hiding our relationship from certain teammates Jude was very close with. We'd decided to be open with them, because keeping a 'secret' from them wouldn't exactly give us peace of mind in the long run.

Scratching what I've written down so far, I drop my pen onto the desk. Glancing up at the clock to check the time, and gasping softly when I remember I have a meeting that starts in a minute.

I quickly grab the necessary paperwork, and dash out of the office. Into the meeting room, already full of my coworkers, sat waiting only for me..

"Okay, I'm really confused. Do I have something on my face? Like sauce from lunch or something?" The puzzled y/n asks, turning around in her office chair, only to glance at the busy Lina.

"Uh.." The older woman begins, looking up from her monitor and shaking her head.

"Nope, no sauce. Why?" Lina takes her hand off the computer mouse, sighing before leaning back.

"Everyone has been looking at me, like since- this morning.." y/n rolls her chair forward, holding out her foot, to stop herself from violently slamming into Lina's desk.

"You think? I thought it was because your dress looked cute.."

Lina smirks at her own words, her hand reaching over to grab her purple water bottle, swiftly taking the top off and chugging a couple gulps.

y/n scoffs, glancing down at the dress she's wearing. Yes, of course the dress is cute, that's why she wore it today. But the stares she got were definitely not in appreciation of the cream-colored dress.

"Are you serious? I don't think-"

She's cut off by a loud knock. Both women break eye contact, looking up at the glass doors where someone is standing in front of.

"Jude?" y/n perks up, standing up from her chair and making a beeline towards him. Ignoring the unnecessarily loud and teasing whistle leaving Lina's mouth.

Stepping outside, she furrows her brows, looking around for anyone who could eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Follow me.." Jude can only say, immediately starting to walk down the stairs without sparing another second.

"What are you-" She trails off, sighing in defeat, before following him down, into one of the empty meditation rooms.

She looks at Jude as he locks the door behind them, his hand immediately reaching to wrap around her waist. He pulls her closer than ever, planting a kiss on her lips.

"Something wrong?" She asks, picking up on his stressed out demeanor. Pulling back, she scans his face once again.

"I have to show you something, but don't freak out, yeah? I called your dad already, and he said he'll see what he can do.."

This only sends her into a panic, his warning going over her head as she watches him pull his phone out of his pocket. Arms flexing underneath his training jacket as he moves.

She looks at him with a confused frown on her face, her eyes almost popping out of her head when Jude shows what was so important.

Grabbing the phone out of his hand without thinking, she brings the device closer to her face. A small noise of annoyance leaving her mouth.

It's all photos of the couple, outside during various times they had been on dates for the past- six months.

"This one's from Valencia, and this one's from that night in Mallorca?!" y/n exclaims, hands shaking as she tries to scroll through the other photos. All off guard pictures of them, taken while they were out together, after matches, and even on dates in Madrid.

Noticing how distressed the photos make his girlfriend, Jude grabs his phone out of her hand. Setting it down on the table next to him, he grabs onto her shoulders, making her look up at him.

"It's okay, we prepared for this, remember? I won't let my team put out a statement, apart from legal action. Your dad's handling it with my team, okay?" He brings her frazzled form into a reassuring hug, planting kisses on her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

Of course, just like her boyfriend explains- they knew their relationship couldn't be kept secret for much longer. Jude, being the high profile football player he is, couldn't exactly keep people from prying into his private life.

She knew that the media had caught a whiff of her, even back when they despised each other. The night at Wembley Stadium months ago, had caused a little commotion back then.

The gossip pages and newspapers loved a story containing love, a successful and beloved young man, and not to forget- her having actual connections to the club in both work, and her father's partnership with the club.

To the couple, when they entered the training center or the stadium, they would work at that particular day- it was about work and work only.

When they clocked in, they prioritized working. It would've obviously been very difficult for them to keep their relationship on the low- if they glanced at each other every damn second, while in the same room.

During working hours, they'd greet each other like their other colleagues, acting like they didn't make out the night before in his room.

Unavoidably, the players who knew about them dating, would try their best to sneak little jokes and teases in. The couple would successfully brush off the comments.

Practicing all these months made the perfect facade, but sometimes the jokes were too good not to chuckle, at least very discreetly.

"Okay, I trust you.." She mutters, pressing her face into her chest, a soft hum leaving her mouth. Thoughts and worries swirling through her mind.

"Baby! I'm ready!" I shout, almost falling flat on my face while pulling on my new heels.

These red bottoms were absolute hell to wear, especially since I had just gotten them as a gift, from Jude.

It would take some time before I could break them in, but with how stunning they looked paired with this dress, it was worth the pain, at least tonight.

To celebrate winning the league, Jude and I were finally going on a date. It had been a while since we had been on a proper date night, mostly due to how busy we both have been lately.

Jude with training and I with preparing everything, from interviews to social media posts, and even some press releases that needed to be out before the Champions League final that was in a couple days.

"I'm here.." I walk out of his bedroom, chuckling at the sheer amount of my clothes stuffed in his closet.

We had been staying over at each other's place on and off, but looking at both our closets, you'd think we'd been living together again.

Considering how important the past few weeks had been, Jude had been training a lot. I was especially worried about him and his health, mainly thinking of his shoulder injury.

His doctor and the team's physiotherapist had reassured me personally, but still, I could help but wince every time he touched his shoulder and grunted. Or seeing the multiple, pain-stopping injections, he had to take to play a full ninety minutes.

"You look handsome.." I mutter when reaching the front door, pressing a kiss onto his plump lips, my hands reaching to fix the collar of his button down. My lipgloss leaving a sheen of glitter on his lips, it making me chuckle as he gave me a dumbfounded look.

We’re fairly young, and early in our relationship, we realized that fancy dates weren't really our thing. But tonight was one of the few occasions we'd go all out, and dress up very nicely.

"You look absolutely stunning, love.." He smiles, his hand circling around my waist and down my back, fingers digging into the fabric of my dress.

"Thank you, baby.." I hum, giving him a small wink. A loud chuckle leaves my lips as he attempts to wink back, though, just like every time, it looks like he's got something in his eyes, instead of being cheeky.

"What's so funny, hm?" Jude questions, hands trailing down to grip at my bum, squeezing slightly.

"Mhm, nothing.." I say, reaching up to fix his hair a little. "Should we leave? It's getting late.."

He agrees instantly, and I wrap my arm around his as we walk out of his house. The sun hadn't set yet, mostly because summer was coming soon, and I couldn't wait to enjoy the weather this year, yet again.

"Wait- I didn't grab my keys.." I gasp, eyes going wide as I watch him pull the door shut.

"Oh, you're definitely not driving missy, especially not in those heels.." Jude says, giving me a cheeky smile, and I can immediately sense that he is hiding something.

"You got your license?!" I beam, eyes glistening in happiness. Though, my excitement is cut short when he shakes his head, an embarrassed look on his face.

"No, I did not get my license.."

"Oh.." I say, the corners of my mouth twitching as I hold back a menacing laugh.

"So, you'll be my passenger prince forever?" I bring my hand up to grab onto his bicep, squeezing the muscles as my body leans against his.

"Will you ever stop saying that?" I watch his lips move, eyes glimmering when his lips pull into a slight pout.

"When you get your license, sir. I'll stop calling you my passenger prince..."

"I'm sure you would like a break from it then.." Jude says, his expression changing to a smug one within a split-second, and I follow his lead without thinking.

My uncomfortable heels click against the concrete as Jude leads me outside the gates of the house, a sleek black Rolls Royce parked right in front of the driveway.

"You got a driver for tonight?" I ask, eyes fixated on the, admittedly sexy car.

"Going all out for my lovey tonight. I've got to spoil my girl, always.."

I grin at his sweet words, warmth reaching my face, and I suddenly feel shyness creeping up on me. I shift my gaze for a second, avoiding eye contact with him and staring at the concrete.

"Aw, is my pretty girl shy now? You weren't like this a moment ago, huh?" A soft noise of protest leaves my mouth at the loving words. My breath hitching as he presses a kiss on my neck, right against my jugular.

"Come on, love. We'll be very late to our reservation if I keep you here longer.." Jude gives me a charming smile, grabbing onto my hand and pulling me towards the car, making me forget whatever my thoughts were before he'd made my heart flutter.

"I'm sweating literal buckets. I can't even breathe properly right now.." My eyes immediately shift to Luis, my right eye twitching, just like it has been on and off this entire day. The stress and anxiety of this all had been building up in us both, causing actual physical symptoms to show.

"Ask me about it, I went peeing two times already, and we're just seventy minutes into this match.." I say, wiping my sweaty hands down my black jeans. The laptop and phone on my lap shaking, as I bounce my knee up and down in anticipation.

My heart also leaped in my throat every time Jude got fouled. Checking the stats confirmed my suspicion, he currently is the most fouled player on the pitch.

I obviously knew it was a part of the game, but considering his injury- I couldn't help but be worried.

"Fuck, I swear if we score, I'm going to lose my shit." Luis says, running a hand through his curly hair, and I can almost feel the nerves radiating off of him.

Well, all 90.000 people in Wembley Stadium feel the exact same way right now. From supporters to chairmen of both respective clubs, sitting on the edge of their seats as we all watched the Champions League final between Real Madrid and Borussia Dortmund unfold, live in front of our own two eyes.

My breath hitches in my throat as we're given a corner. The grip on my phone getting tighter as Luis glances at me.

"Okay, we got this, Toni's so experienced-"

"Shut up, I'm trying to focus.." I exclaim, grabbing onto Luis' shoulder to calm him down.

"You can't exactly focus with 90,000 people screaming.." He replies, glancing at me.

I open my mouth to speak, but decide to spare my breath, and stop breathing in anticipation.

Right, at that moment, Toni kicks the ball from the corner flag, it flies upwards as we watch both our players and Dortmund players scramble in front of the goal.

Finally, Dani jumps up and GOALLLL!!

The entire Madridista side jumps up in celebration, my devices almost slipping out of my hand and onto the floor as we jump up to cheer as loud as we can.

"I'm going to kiss Dani's forehead after this!" Luis screams, making me choke on my laughter. I hurry up and return my attention back to my devices, as happy as we were, we still had our job to do and execute.

I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm down, before we both go back to doing our jobs.

Our wishes and prayers for a second goal aren't that far away, time-wise. Dortmund player Maatsen tries passing the ball, due to a wrong estimation, Jude gets the ball instead, shooting to Vini.

He goes on to score the second banger of the night. The stadium erupts in both cheers of happiness and screams of protest.

It's even louder than after the first goal, and we know it's only a matter of five minutes before our boys secure the victory over this season's Champions League..

y/n fixes her shirt for the nth time, trying to fidget with something before she loses her mind. Standing in the tunnel, she glances at Luis. Both of their eyes glimmering, as they wait for the families of the players to enter the pitch to celebrate the win.

They were insanely busy with handling their work, channelling their emotions into doing their job, to make sure it's all taken care of before they were done for the night. The automated system, consisting of already edited work, would take care of the rest from now on...

"Dude, what just happened?.." Luis whispers, glancing at the equally mesmerized girl next to him.

"We won!" She squeals, letting her excitement and happiness show as she hugs Luis. "Fuck, I don't even know what I would do if we lost. I'd actually be having a breakdown right now.."

Luis hugs her back, patting her head affectionately.

"You've worked very hard, y/n. Thank you for being my best friend and best colleague.." He says, giving her a brotherly smile.

"Thank you too, older brother.." She laughs, voice slightly teasing, as she pats his shoulder.

"Oh, I think we can join the celebrations.." He says, pointing to the families they’ve gotten very close with over the years.

The familiar faces joining their loved one on the pitch to celebrate this huge milestone in their careers.

"Come on.." Luis says, dragging her along and onto the pitch.

She looks around, a permanent smile plastered on her face as she's overwhelmed by the emotions running through her body.

"Dani!" Luis shouts, and y/n watches him run up to the goal scorer, just like his promise- Luis plants a fat kiss on the athlete's head.

y/n laughs loudly at the interaction, making eye contact with Dani’s wife, and laughing even harder at her confused expression.

She shakes her head at her best friend’s antics. Realizing she's alone now, she freezes. Cameras were absolutely everywhere at the moment, and she was absolutely sure at least one was pointed towards her.

The weeks following the photos of their dates being leaked were quite turbulent, with a lot of support, but also criticism- it was very difficult to ignore the reactions.

She wasn't anywhere close to wanting to be a public figure of some sort, so the attention was putting a lot of pressure on her.

But loving a star athlete, like Jude meant having to sacrifice some part of her privacy. If it meant she could run up to him now, and kiss his face a couple of times.

Then screw privacy, she'd throw that all away to get to him right now.

Her eyes darting to the rest of the enormous pitch again, frowning when she can't find the boy she's so desperately looking for.

Finally, after squinting a whole lot, and definitely causing damage to her eye muscles, she finally makes eye contact with the equally lost looking Jude.

He's standing in between both his parents, arms around them as he looks around wearily.

Jude's eyes immediately light up in relief when he spots y/n, mumbling something to his smiley parents before he makes a run for it.

Within seconds, he's by his girlfriend's side, and she jumps up to wrap her legs around his waist in greeting. He pulls her flush against him in a tight embrace. y/n cups his jaw tenderly to place multiple kisses on his face.

"I'm so fucking proud of you, baby.." She breathes out, cut off as he presses his lips onto hers, exhilarating kiss that makes them forget other people are around, and especially the hundreds of cameras and phones filming the pitch.

He catches her lips, plump lips sucking onto her bottom lip before they're forced to pull back for air. They pant, faces warm, and cheeks hurting from how much they'd smiled within the past couple minutes.

"I'm proud of you too, baby. Come on, you're my family too. Forget about work and the cameras here for me, yeah?”

She plants her shoes back onto the grass when he lowers back on the floor. She looks down as he grabs onto her hand. Playing with her fingers as he makes eye contact with her.

Reaching up, she swipes at a piece of grass stuck on his temple, probably from being fouled earlier, she chuckles at the sight, biting her lip.

“Come on, then. Your parents are waiting..” She says, turning and dragging him along the pitch. Skipping towards his awaiting, happy parents. Who look at them with an infinite amount of joy and proudness in their eyes.

“He’s a winner! Jude’s our winner!!”

[love-bitesx]

im word vomiting my headcanon list and id love to hear what you think!

*hobie gifting things that he finds to his partner like a crow. i can imagine they'd just randomly turn up, either on a desk or like they'll just find it in their bag or pocket, or that he'd just walk of and just hand it to them with no word *hobie fell for his partner hard, though he kept it pretty well hidden from everyone except pav starts calling his 'loverboy', eventually the nickname catches on to the point his future partner starts using it as well(either b/c they like it and thay're oblivious or they know exactly whats going on and are teasing him about it) *loves playful banter *nicknames for daaaaaays with his partner *hobie getting serious with a partner would be him gifting them something important, first thoughts are either a guitar pick of his or one of his favorite rings (its the most worn one he has, a simple metal one that you can literally feel the love thats gone into it. somehow it fits his partners finger perfectly)



i may be back with more, until then i salute you!

i agree with ur hc’s so much!! this is how i hc & tend to write hobie so, 100%! pls don’t hesitate if u think of anymore hehe

i’d love to expand! ~

- giving you gifts, to him, is like the ideal expression of love.

- because basically all of them are stolen, it’s a combination of his favourite things; stealing from big corporations, and seeing the beaming, heart-warming smile on your face when you open your bag and see a tiny trinket wrapped in newspaper.

- everytime you would come home, you’d find a new little addition to the house somewhere – notably: necklaces, rings, tiny ceramic statues or wooden decorations, pens, music (cd’s, vinyls, etc.) – especially if he’s been to camden market that day, his pockets would be full for you.

- when he started to fall for you, he low-key thought he was coming down with the flu.

- whenever you were around, his heart would flutter, his head dizzy and palms sweating – he considered getting medicine, until pavitr pointed something out.

- “how are you, loverboy?”

- “eh? you talking to me, pav?”

- “of course, hobie! little loverboy”

- “did you hit your head, bro?”

- pavitr would explain that he’d noticed hobie’s eyes glued to you whenever you spoke, hanging onto every word like gospel, and the way he flustered when you touched him, how he’d do anything in his power to be in your personal space.

- “shit.”

- “no! this is a good thing, my friend! love is the most bea—”

- “shit.”

- days went past of hobie avoiding you, he’d never been in love before, and it was scary to him

- his brain was only thinking of you, and he hated that he liked it. he hated that he wished for every thought to be of you.

- and he hated that he could see your body deflate when he avoided you, hated that your eyes looked sad when he turned away

- he hated that he liked loving you

- until, you caught him on his own one day, he was minding his business, relaxing on his lonesome whilst the others hung out in different dimensions.

- “hey, loverboy”

- a deer in headlights wouldn’t even come close to the shock on his face

- “loverboy?”

- loverboy? you were calling him loverboy?

- “yeah, loverboy, that’s you, isn’t it?”

- in all fairness, you were completely oblivious to the reason behind it – pav had simply just started calling him it when hobie wasn’t around, and it stuck

- “i-i guess so”

- clearing his throat, he willed his confidence back to the surface

- “you can call me anything you want, sweetheart”

- it wasn’t long before you were together, a gentle, but spontaneous kiss after a particularly dangerous mission one day sealing the deal between you both

- he was obsessed with you

- now he could be obvious about his feelings, he took that and ran with it

- his arm was essentially glued to your side, or over your shoulders, or anywhere where he could pull you in close to him

- he’d grab you by the belt buckles, dragging you towards him and welcoming you with a soft peck on the lips

- even in public, almost especially in public

- always have his hands in your back pockets, he says he hates the cliché-ness of it but he likes that he can hold you close whilst respecting your personal space – and he can feel your ass, but he doesn’t admit that outloud

- THE NICKNAMES.

- THE. NICKNAMES.

- this man is born and bred british, and over here we use nicknames more than actual names

- darling, sweetheart, love, lovely, all of those AND more are natural to him, anyway

- but he adds a special little “my” before them all now, now that you actually are his, and so “my darling”, “my love”, etc. are like a second name to you

- in bed, the nicknames would be even better, but i’ll leave that to your imagination…

- when things started getting a little serious, you’d been dating for months, all your friends and colleagues knew about him, your family as well (if you decide to tell them)

- you’re relaxing in hobie’s dimension, laying on his bed with your head on his shoulder, reading a book whilst he strums at his guitar softly. he’s humming a song you don’t recognise, but the sound of his deep melody was enough to lull you.

- “hey, love?”

- you hum in response

- “i wanna give you something.”

- sitting you up, he’d lay his guitar down and face you, grabbing your hand and bringing it to him

- “what are you—”

- he’d fiddle with his own hands for a second, before twisting his favourite ring off his index finger

- “here.”

- “hobie, are you—”

- “i’m not proposing, don’t worry. weddings are just a social nuisance that give us one more way to control each other. no. this is better.”

- you tilt your head and watch him, as he slides his ring onto your middle finger

- “it’s just a promise.”

- “a promise?”

- “a promise that i love you, and that i’m yours, innit.”

- “oh, hobie.”

- you cry a tiny bit

- and he hugs you tightly, kissing your forehead

- that’s when he knew it was serious with you, not only because of how he was so obsessed with you, and his heart melted at your touch, but because when he saw you with the ring on, his ring, his person, it just felt right. he didn’t ever wanna see you without it, or without him.

- “hey, hobie, did you mean what you said about marriage? you don’t wanna marry me one day?”

- “hey, i said i hate weddings. nothing about marriage. not if we do it our own way, you know?”

i love him so much. also pls stick around, couple of one shots & fics will be out this week!!! sorry they’re taking ages hehe

[yaoi-enthusiasts]

Three: Barbecue at The Itadori’s

Convicted Masterlist— Ryomen Sukuna Series

Warning ⚠️: Rated 18+ | reader is abused by father | murder | dark content | smut | cursing | modern au

“Good afternoon guys.” You waved at Toji & his wife. “Y/n!” Yuuji came running over to you, hugging you tightly. “Hi Yuuji.” You smiled hugging back. “Tch, back up kid.” Sukuna hissed unthreatening. “Hey uncle.” Yuuji smiled brightly, hugging his uncle. “Oh kid, so mushy… Just like your dad.” Sukuna groaned, but hugging him back. “Hey Megs.” You smiled at the other teenage boy. “Hey Y/n. How are you?” He asked as he hugged you from the side.

“Jeez you kids are big.” Sukuna said scratching the back of his head. “Alright ‘m hungry, let’s get to cooking’” Toji said as he followed Sukuna to the grill. Toji’s wife followed you inside, into the kitchen as you both prepared the side dishes, while the two teenage boys were outside with the men. “How was last night after you two left?” Mamaguro asked, you felt your face instantly start burning, turning around to the fridge to act like you needed to grab something. “Your ears get as red as your cheeks.” She chuckled. “Oh my…” You covered your face. “Was it the first time… since he got out?” She asked more serious. You nodded, “yeah… It was…” You smiled lightly. “That’s good, I’m sure it calmed him down.” She bursted into a fit of laughter. “Oh my… No not even… Just not violent anymore.” You giggled. “Well you know it’s important to rekindle that flame again, and connecting.” - “Yeah… I didn’t realize how much I was holding back until… well… I just… in the car…” You were burning from embarrassment. “Wow y/n I didn’t take you for one to top the Ryomen Sukuna.” She teased. “Oh my… I just… missed him a lot, that’s all.” You smiled softly.

“Get your dirty paws off the cookies!” Megumi’s mom slapped at the two teenage boys hands. “Come oooonnnn, please auntie.” Yuuji looked at you. “Okay one… But you both have to share it!” You pointed to the two boys. “What about me?” Sukuna said teasingly, walking in with hotdogs and burgers. “If you want Ryo.” You replied, then you feel him pull at your waist, leaning down smashing his lips onto yours in front of everyone. “Sukuna!” You pushed off after a few seconds. “Ewwww!” The two teenage boys said in union, “I was getting my dessert.” He shrugged as he set the food down, and then went to wash his hands. You blushed brightly, but smiling like a love sick teenager. “Oh to be in love.” Toji’s wife said longingly to tease her husband. “Oh hush woman.” Toji snapped, smacking her ass, and leaning down to kiss her. “Ugh you guys are gross!” Yuuji groaned, covering his eyes. “Don’t act like we don’t hear you two on your sleepovers.” Toji spit back. Yuuji flushed red, and so did Megumi. “Dad!” Megumi groaned out. “C-can’t believe he heard us.” Yuuji groaned.

“You gay?” Sukuna flicked an eyebrow up, Yuuji looked at his uncle terrified. “That’s pretty cool. Who’s takin’ it?” Sukuna chuckled. “Uncle!” - “Sukuna!” You and Yuuji said at the same time. “Alright alright, I don’t care. ‘M hungry.” He laughed, grabbing plates. “Everyone wash your hands.”

“Where are the boys?” Toji questioned, “I dunno, probably flicking each other.” Sukuna chuckled sipping on his whiskey, while Toji drank his beer. “No, they are asleep. I checked on them.” Toji’s wife replied. “When did you two find out, that they’re together?” Sukuna said, gulping down his drink. “Before that, how about we go sit outside around a fire, and smoke.” Toji smirked, pulling a blunt from his wife’s purse. Sukuna’s eyes widen, “Oh hell yeah!” He cackled happily, standing up. You just chuckled to yourself at the two men.

“They were like, what thirteen?” Toji looked over at his wife, as she nodded, hitting the blunt, passing it to you. “They were thirteen, and I came home from work earlier than usual, and this woman right here ran to the market to get something for dinner. All of a sudden I’m hearing whimpers. Next thing I know, I walk in Megs room, to make sure no one was hurt… and Yuuji was right on top of Megs!” Toji groans, hitting the blunt, passing it to Sukuna. “My boy! I swear that boy was takin’ it!” Sukuna laughed with his chest. You just looked over at your beautiful husband, ogling him, you swore hearts were in your eyes. He laughed with his whole chest, taking a hit, and passing it back. Your mind felt so clear yet was zoned in right on your husband.

“I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, I shut the door, and sat on the porch, til she got home. When we went back inside, the boys were both sitting on the couch side by side, all red. They ended up telling us, that they liked each other, and that they were having sex... I was a mad man… told em they can’t be doin’ all that, especially with no protection, and lyin’ to us… Well then we decided to let ‘em both date and support them, we realized it was a’ready gon’ be hard being gay and all… Now their 16, and we now don’t supervise them. But we did buy ‘em condoms so at least they are smart about it.” Toji huffed, drinking his beer. “Fushiguro… I don’t even know what to say…” Sukuna laughed in disbelief. “I don’t even know what I would do.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “If I have a daughter or a son, but especially a daughter, if I ever caught a boy in her room, I’d probably rip the poor boy to shreds.” Sukuna said, making Toji shrug, “I told ‘m lady the same thing. Tsumiki is such a good girl, she’s in college and all, but when I found she had a boyfriend, I nearly cried.” Toji and Sukuna just rambled on and on, while you and Mamaguro started talking.

“You really love him.” She said first. You smiled to her, “I really do.” saying with a nod. “You know, Toji and I have been saying this since we were all kids. I’ve known you my whole life, you and Sukuna are one person. You two apart, is ripping someone in half. You two complement one another perfectly… Seeing you apart from him, you wore a smile while you were in agony, yet you always saw the good, you were always kind, you still are.” She grabbed your hand, and squeezing it. You two hadn’t realized them quieting down, listening. “She’s my whole word.” Sukuna grabbed your other hand and leaning down to kiss it. “Every moment, I spent locked up, my mind only thought of how to fix it all, to be by her side again. I missed her more than she will ever know…” He blabbered on with just the biggest grin, happy as he could ever be. “I don’t care about the boys bein’ gay and stuff, I don’t care about the man I killed. Man I don’t even care I spent 6 years for killin’ a man who hurt my lady… All I care about is that I have her by my side, lovin’ me through all the good and the bad, I could never love another woman again, she was the first and my last.” You hadn’t realized but tears ran down your face. “Alright I think the blunt is catching up to our emotions.” Toji laughed, as he pulled Sukuna into what you would call, a brother hug. They embraced one another like it had been their first time seeing one another in centuries, or the last hug they would probably ever share. They pulled apart, as Toji put his hand on Sukuna nape. “‘M proud of you man… I know it ain’t been easy at all… But you made it out, and your here now. We don’t like what you did, but we get it, and you know I ain’t an innocent man myself, we all have a past life before this moment. All that matters is what we do now, to be better men, especially for our family. You made it out, you protected your wife, and your here… Don’t let it go…” He said, pulling him into a final hug, then pulling away as they both laugh and wiped the tears from their eyes.

You four were sitting and talking until 3 in the morning, they stayed over for the night putting the boys on the couch and they took the guest room. You and Sukuna slipped into the sheets after showering off the fire smell, embracing one another. You felt him part your leg, and drape it around his waist, as he slowly, and gently pushed himself into you. You both lied on your sides, facing one another, and he thrusted slow, making you feel every inch, every vein, every nudge against your spongey spot. You both kept your lips moving against one another, swirling your tongues into each other’s mouth, moaning into one another mouth. The great Ryomen Sukuna Itadori… moaning… whimpering. He was a mess, he was the happiest he could ever be. He shot into you, ropes and ropes, spilling out into you, you clenched around his cock, soaking his cock with your juices. “I love you s’ much.” Sukuna huffed into your ear. You smiled, pulling him for a small kiss. “I love you.” With a soft drowsy tone, you fell asleep against his chest, as he followed right behind you.

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Freedom far away - M

I submitted my abstract for a conference. If my abstract is selected, I'll be going to Ireland for my first-ever conference!

My nurse friend said, "If anyone gets hit their solar plexus by you, they'll die." when I just asked if a person could faint if punching their solar plexus... What kind of image do you have of me?

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

Part A | Part B | Part C&D | Part E | Part F | Part G | Part H | Part I&J | Part K | Part L | Part M | Part N | Part O&P | Part Q | Part ? | Epilogue

Warning: Depictions of blood, violence, abuse, and may be disturbing to some readers

The bustling capital city was alive with noise and energy, an enticing distraction from the quieter life in the realm. You had hoped to wander the market with Agatha and Rio by your side, basking in their steadying presence, but the timing hadn’t worked in your favour. Both had been busy with pressing matters, leaving you to venture out alone.

Agatha needed to return to her homeland for specific magical ingredients, and her sharp tone left no room for negotiation. "I’ll be back by evening," she had promised, her blue eyes softening just a fraction as she brushed your cheek. "Be careful while we’re gone, doll."

Rio had been equally regretful but no less occupied. Dressed in foreign attire of flowing black fabric and a wide-brimmed hat, she had smirked, the transformation elegant and effortless. "Diplomatic business," she’d said with a playful wink, though her dark eyes held a trace of seriousness. "Keep yourself out of trouble, pretty lady. I’ll know if you don’t."

You had nodded, smiling faintly, already missing them.

The market was usually a place of discovery and joy, but it felt emptier without them. Still, you had decided to make the best of it. The thought of welcoming them home with small gifts had given you a purpose—a basket of sweets for Agatha, who loved them almost as much as she loved teasing you, and a collection of the reddest, ripest apples for Rio, who could never resist their rich flavour.

As you moved through the bustling stalls, your hooded robe concealed your face, the fabric heavy but necessary. The fear of being recognised, of your grandfather’s people spotting you, never fully left your mind. It was suffocating at times, but the safety the robe provided was worth it.

As you wandered through the market, the vibrant colours of fruits, spices, and sweets briefly distracted you from unease. You ran your fingers along baskets of candied treats, selecting a variety of Agatha’s favourites with a small, fond smile. The glistening, blood-red apples you found shortly after seemed to glow under the sunlight, and their vivid hue reminded you of Rio’s piercing gaze. You added them to your basket carefully, imagining her delighted expression when she saw them.

Despite the constant weight of vigilance, these small moments of normalcy gave you a sense of peace. The hood shielded you from wandering eyes, and the thought of returning home with tokens of your affection for them made it all worthwhile. For now, that was enough.

But the warmth of your plans turned icy when you noticed the unease in the market crowd. It started subtly—lingering glances, averted gazes—but soon grew impossible to ignore. The whispers followed low murmurs you couldn’t quite catch but could feel prickling the back of your neck.

Your steps slowed as you approached a noticeboard near the edge of the market. A small crowd had gathered around it, and despite the warning bells in your mind, you edged closer, curiosity overtaking caution.

Your breath caught as your eyes fell on the poster. There, staring back at you, was your own face—a precise portrait that left no doubt. Beneath it, bold text displayed your name, noble title, and the promise of a generous reward for information leading to your location.

Your heart dropped.

The world seemed to blur around you as panic set in, your thoughts racing. Every glance from a stranger felt sharper, every whisper louder. The gift basket in your arms felt like a foolish weight, but you clung to it as your only anchor.

Trying to steady your breathing, you looked down at your trembling hand, willing yourself to summon magic. Agatha’s lessons flickered in your mind, and you tried to channel the energy you had practised with her and Rio. But unlike Agatha’s vivid purple haze or Rio’s confident green glow, your hand only produced a faint blue mist that fizzled out almost instantly, leaving you feeling more helpless than before.

You couldn’t stay here. You pulled your hood tighter over your head and turned away from the noticeboard, your steps quickening as fear gripped your chest. Every sound and every movement in the market felt magnified, your eyes darting to catch any sign of recognition.

The ambassador’s office. You needed to get to the black gate. You needed Agatha and Rio.

Before you could return to the safety of the ambassador’s office, a rough hand clamped over your arm, yanking you into a dark, narrow alley. Panic surged as your body twisted instinctively, trying to see the face of your attacker, but the shadows obscured their features.

Before you could conjure even a flicker of magic in your trembling hands or summon the courage to cry out for help—be it from an animal or a passing stranger—a thick cloth was pressed against your mouth and nose. The overwhelming, sickly-sweet smell of the fabric invaded your senses, and you realised too late what it was.

Your heart pounded, every fibre of your being screaming to resist, to fight. You kicked out wildly, but their grip tightened, rough and unyielding.

"Tsk, what a troublesome young lady," a voice muttered, low and gruff, the words dripping with irritation. Before you could process their meaning, a sharp blow struck your solar plexus, the force so brutal it left you gasping. The air was knocked out of your lungs, and darkness crept into the edges of your vision.

The bags of food you had bought—the sweets and apples meant for Agatha and Rio—fell from your hands, tumbling to the ground in a messy scatter. The vibrant red apples rolled away, smudged with dirt, while the neatly wrapped sweets spilled out of their packaging. It was a small, heartbreaking detail that somehow made everything feel even more cruel.

Your limbs grew heavier with each passing second, your struggles fading into futile jerks. The last thing you remembered was the rough texture of the alley wall against your shoulder, the sight of the gifts you’d dropped lying abandoned in the dirt, and the unbearable weight of helplessness as your consciousness slipped away.

---RAR---

You stirred, your body aching and disoriented, feeling the rough, uneven floor beneath your side. Something coarse and thick was tied over your mouth, muffling your breathing, and your chest still throbbed faintly, a dull pain that flared when you shifted.

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting as dim light filtered into the space around you. Through the slivers of light squeezing in through the gaps, you could make out your surroundings: a building full of old, unused farm tools and scattered objects coated in dust, forgotten by time.

With effort, you inspected your body, noticing your legs were bound tightly and your hands were tied behind your back. You shifted, testing the restraints, and an unsettling familiarity crept over you. This place…you knew it. The rough walls, the faded wood, and the scent of earth and disuse—it was a storage building at your family’s estate. Memories flickered to life; you and your sister playing here as children, hiding among the old tools and giggling as you avoided chores.

The realisation made your stomach churn. They had brought you home.

You tried to sit up, wincing at the tightness in your limbs, the ropes digging into your skin. Crawling was a struggle, but you managed to inch toward the door where the faint light seeped through the cracks. As you neared it, the light was suddenly blocked, replaced by the sound of approaching footsteps. Panic gripped you, and you stilled, heart racing, desperately feigning unconsciousness.

But it was too late. The door creaked open, and blinding daylight flooded the room. You blinked rapidly, your eyes adjusting to the brightness, and then you heard it—a voice you knew too well.

"Finally," your grandfather’s low, gravelly voice growled, filled with a seething anger that made you tremble.

Your chest tightened as he stepped inside, his silhouette cutting an imposing figure against the light. He had been searching for you all this time, never giving up. You wanted to shrink under his gaze, but you forced yourself to look up, defiant. His cold, piercing eyes bore into you, and for a moment, his fury was a physical weight pressing down on you.

"You disgraceful child," he spat, his voice rising. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Running away like a coward, hiding like filth? And now…this!" His words hit like blows, but what made you freeze was what came next.

Your defiance faltered, confusion flashing across your face.

This?

Before you could ask, his words cut through the air like a blade.

"A child," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "An illegitimate bastard growing inside you! Staining the name of this household!"

The word hit you like a thunderclap. Pregnant. Your body froze, your mind spinning as you tried to comprehend. How could he know? Then it clicked—a doctor. He must have had a physician check you while you were unconscious.

A whirlwind of emotions quickly replaced the shock, disbelief, fear, and a strange, growing awareness deep within you. Pregnant. You didn’t even have time to fully process it before the first slap landed across your face, snapping your head to the side and sending you sprawling onto the hard floor. Your lip split under the impact, and you tasted the metallic taste of blood.

He towered over you, seething with rage. "Do you know what I’ve endured because of you?" he yelled. "The royal family humiliated me, and now I have to clean up this mess you created!"

He grabbed you roughly by your arm, dragging you upright, only to strike you again and hurled you down. Pain flared across your face, the stinging sensation overwhelming. But as his furious tirade continued, your focus shifted inward. You became acutely aware of your body, of the small life he claimed was growing inside you. The idea felt surreal, but your instincts kicked in before your thoughts could catch up.

With your hands bound tightly behind you, you desperately tried to retreat, your legs scraping against the rough floor as you struggled to crawl backward. The uneven surface bit into your skin, but you didn’t care—your only thought was to get away from him. Your trembling body moved inch by inch, instinct driving you to put as much distance between you and his looming figure as possible.

His voice followed you, dripping with venom. "Crawling away like the disgrace you’ve become? Do you think you can run from this?"

You didn’t answer, focusing entirely on escape, though your bound limbs made it a hopeless endeavour. The light spilling through the door flickered as his shadow grew larger, and before you could react, a sharp, searing pain erupted in your back. His boot connected squarely with your spine, the force knocking you flat onto the floor.

The impact drove the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as fresh pain radiated through your body. You whimpered, curling instinctively to shield your abdomen, your bindings biting into your wrists as you twisted in desperation. His scoff rang out above you, cold and unfeeling.

"Pitiful," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "And still, you protect that bastard child. As if that will save you." He leave you as and left the storage with rage.

The ache in your back spread, but it was nothing compared to the fire in your chest. You clenched your teeth, your trembling body staying curled over your abdomen, silently defying him despite the agony that consumed you.

In the darkness of your mind, one thought screamed louder than all the pain: I must protect my baby.

You stupidly thought it was over. But it was far from over. Your body trembled uncontrollably as you heard the heavy thud of approaching footsteps. A moment later, an angry yell cut through the air, halting the steps. "Father, that’s enough!" Your father’s voice rang out, loud and commanding in a way you had never heard before.

You squinted through the haze of pain, your blurred vision slowly adjusting to the sight of your father stepping into the doorway. His face was pale, his jaw clenched tightly, but his eyes burned with determination as he moved closer, placing himself between you and your grandfather.

"She’s your granddaughter," he said, his voice trembling with anger and desperation. "You’ve punished her enough."

Your breath hitched as your eyes fell on the large sword clutched tightly in your grandfather’s hand. The gleaming blade, though worn with age, still carried an unmistakable air of danger. It was then you realised, with chilling clarity, that the lord of the household had retreated not to collect himself but to arm himself.

He had retrieved the sword not to intimidate but to act—to maim, or worse, to kill you by his own hand.

The weight of that realisation sent a cold shiver down your spine, freezing you in place. Your body, already weakened, trembled with the effort to remain upright. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening as your grandfather’s icy gaze met yours.

"She is no granddaughter of mine," he snarled, his voice filled with venom. He raised the sword slightly, the blade catching the dim light and reflecting it back like a cruel promise. "She’s a disgrace, and disgrace has no place in this family."

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, pressing down on you as your trembling body struggled to retreat further. But your father didn’t move aside. He stood firm between you and your grandfather, his arms slightly raised in a protective gesture.

"Father, please!" your father shouted, his voice trembling with fury and desperation.

Your grandfather sneered, his grip tightening on the sword in his hand. "Do you intend to defy me?" he asked coldly, his voice quieter now but no less menacing. "You forget your place. I am the lord of this household. The spymaster to the king. Or has that title lost its meaning to you?"

You froze, his words cutting through the haze, clouding your mind. Spymaster. The realisation hit you like a blow. It explained everything—his calculated manner, his ruthless control, his pointed interest in "Lord Rio." He hadn’t entertained the foreign ambassador out of hospitality; he’d been assessing her, evaluating her for reasons far more serious than you had ever realised. The truth of his identity hitting you anew, your mind replaying every interaction and every calculated word he’d spoken in the past. This wasn’t just a man consumed by rage. This was a man who wielded the power of the crown’s secrets, a man accustomed to controlling everything—and everyone—around him.

"She had disgraced this family," your grandfather continued, addressing your father as though you weren’t even there. "Her actions jeopardise everything I have built. She has brought shame to our name, and I will not allow such betrayal to go unchecked."

Your father’s fists curled tightly at his sides. "Betrayal?" he repeated, his voice cracking with fury. "What betrayal? Falling in love? Running from a life she did not choose? You have treated her like a pawn her entire life—like we are all just tools for your ambition. But this—this is madness!"

Your grandfather's eyes narrowed, his cold expression sharpening. "You think you are righteous, do you not? Do you think your sentiments hold any weight here? Let me remind you, boy. Everything you have, everything this family is, is because of me. I built this legacy and will not watch it crumble because of her."

Your father didn’t back down. "Take it all, then," he said quietly, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "What does that title mean if it drives you to do this? To treat her as if she is not family—your own blood? I will not stand by and let you destroy her. You have already destroyed our family enough. "

"Family?" Your grandfather’s sneer deepened, his piercing eyes narrowing. "She has disgraced this family. Running off, pregnant with an illegitimate child, and flaunting her shame as though it is something to be proud of." He raised the sword slightly, his intent clear. "I’ll not have this stain tarnish what I have spent a lifetime creating."

The father and son glared at each other in heavy silence, the weight of unspoken defiance hanging thick in the air.

Lighter, faster footsteps broke the tense silence. Your sister appeared, her face pale with shock. "Grandfather, stop this!" she cried, rushing into the room to stand protectively in front of you. "You can’t hurt her anymore!"

"Move, girl," your grandfather ordered, his voice like ice. "This is not your place."

But your sister stood firm, her jaw set and her eyes burning with defiance. "It is my place," she shot back, her voice  unyielding. "She’s my sister, and I won’t let you hurt her again!"

Your grandfather’s expression darkened, the lines of his face deepening with rage. Your grandfather’s rage boiled over. He stepped forward with a furious growl, the sword in his hand gleaming menacingly as he raised it slightly. "Do not test me, child," he warned, his voice low and ice-cold. "Disobedience will not be tolerated."

Your father moved to intercept, his hand gripping your grandfather’s arm to stop him. "Father, stop!" he said, his voice strained but resolute. "You’ll destroy this family with your madness!"

Your grandfather wrenched his arm free by roughly shoving your father to the ground, his fury intensifying. "It is you and your failure as a father that have brought this disgrace upon us!" he spat, his venomous gaze flicking between you and your sister. "If you will not restore order, I will."

Your sister’s knees shook, but she refused to move, her determination unshaken even as the tension in the room reached its breaking point. For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own laboured breathing, the pain in your body overshadowed by the chaos unfolding around you.

Your grandfather raised the sword high, ready to strike. Your father lunged forward, but in the chaos, everything became unbalanced. And somehow, despite the searing pain in your body, you found the strength to move. Your legs, still bound, propelled you forward on instinct.

Your body screamed, dragging yourself between your sister and the descending blade. The world slowed as the sharp edge tore into your back. Your eyes locked with your sister's widened eyes. Pain, unlike anything you’d ever felt, exploded through you, radiating outward in a searing wave.

Your body crumpled to the ground as screams filled the air. The sharp metallic scent of blood overwhelmed your senses. Your sister’s wailing cry and your father’s panicked shout barely registered over the roar of pain. You felt the world dimming, your vision blurring as you curled instinctively to shield your abdomen.

The crash reverberated in your ears as the storage building groaned under the pressure of whatever had caused the disturbance. Shouts of alarm mingled with the eerie hum of magic that seemed to fill every corner of the building. You felt the vibrations through the floor, each a drumbeat pounding against your trembling body.

Then, they appeared.

Agatha’s silhouette emerged first, framed by a violet glow that cast long, jagged shadows against the walls. Her hair whipped around her face as if caught in a tempest, her blue eyes burning with an unnatural intensity—tendrils of purple magic crackled and twisted around her hands, hissing like serpents ready to strike.

Behind her, Rio strode in, her dark eyes blazing with fury. Her presence sucked the air, her steps deliberate, exuding power and danger. Her eyes scanned the storage, landing on you briefly before hardening as they returned to your grandfather. She didn’t speak, but her presence alone was a promise of retribution.

Rio moved swiftly, her sharp features softening as she knelt beside you. "I’ve got you, love," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly as her hands began to glow with a faint green light. She pressed them gently to your back, her magic surging into the wound in an attempt to heal it. But the damage was too severe. Her jaw tightened, frustration flickering across her face as the blood refused to stop, the warmth of your body slipping away with every passing moment.

"Stay with me," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please."

As Death, her healing magic was naturally weaker than others, a cruel irony that gnawed at her now. She cursed under her breath, her brown eyes darkening as she poured every ounce of strength into the effort. But the bleeding persisted, and your hand grew colder with each passing second.

"Enough," Agatha’s voice sliced the thick tension like a blade, cold and commanding. The power in her tone sent a shiver down your spine, and even your grandfather, who had been so sure of his control, hesitated. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. Agatha stepped forward, her boots crunching against the scattered debris on the floor. The purple glow surrounding her illuminated the room in flickering light, casting an almost ethereal quality to her presence. Her sharp gaze didn’t waver as she stared your grandfather down. "You’ve done enough damage," she said, her voice low but dripping with venom. "And now you will answer for it."

Your grandfather, ever defiant, straightened his posture despite the tension in his jaw. "Who are you to barge into my household and speak of damage?" he spat, his voice shaky yet laced with anger. "This is my family, my bloodline. She is mine to discipline."

Agatha laughed coldly. "Yours?" she echoed, her magic flaring brighter, sending sparks into the air. "She’s not yours. She never was. You’ve treated her as nothing but a pawn in your games of power, but that ends now."

Rio’s voice cut through, low and dripping with menace. "You think you can beat her, maim her, even kill her, and call it discipline?" Her darkened eyes glinted dangerously, but her touch was a stark contrast—gentle, almost reverent, as she caressed your cheek. Her magic pulsed faintly, flowing into your battered body like a soothing current, assuring you that, despite everything, you would survive. Her gaze flicked back to your grandfather, her tone darkening further. "That ends today."

Your father, caught between terror and awe, stammered, "Who—what are you?" His voice cracked as his gaze darted between Agatha’s purple fury and Rio’s emerald soothing energy.

Agatha turned her head slightly, her eyes flicking to him with disdain. "We are the ones who will undo the damage you allowed," she said, her words laced with judgment. "And if you truly care for your daughter, you will stay out of our way."

Agatha turned her full attention to your grandfather, her expression cold and merciless. The purple tendrils of her magic coiled tighter around him, constricting his throat. His bloodied sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground as the force of her magic lifted him into the air. He clawed desperately at the invisible grip, his face reddening as his breath grew shallow.

"You… monster!" he rasped, his voice barely audible through the choking force.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed, the glowing blue intensifying as her fury radiated through the building. "Monster?" she echoed. "You dare call me a monster? After what you’ve done? Look at yourself,"  her voice low and venomous, each word cutting like a blade.

Her magic crackled violently, the air around her heavy with unrelenting power. The walls seemed to shudder in response, the building groaning under the sheer weight of her rage. "You beat her and tried to kill her—and for what? Your pride? Your ego? Tell me, who is the real monster here?" Her words hung in the air, heavy and damning, as the tendrils tightened further, forcing a strangled gasp from his lips.

"Agatha," you croaked weakly, your voice trembling. Despite the overwhelming pain, you forced yourself to meet her gaze. "Please… don’t…"

Her magic flickered as her expression wavered. She looked at you, her hands trembling. "You don’t understand," she said, her voice cracking. "He doesn’t deserve to live."

"Agatha!" Rio’s voice cut through sharply, her tone laced with urgency. "She’s lost too much blood. We need to go—now!"

Agatha hesitated, torn between her rage and your plea. But your weak, teary gaze was enough to break through. The magic around your grandfather dissipated, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. Agatha turned back to you, her expression a mix of guilt and anguish.

Agatha dropped to her knees beside Rio, her hands already glowing with purple light. Her rage was momentarily set aside as she focused on you, her touch surprisingly gentle as her magic intertwined with Rio’s green glow. The energy washed over your body, soothing some of the pain and stabilising you, though the amount of blood loss and the deep exhaustion remained.

"You’ll be fine," Agatha murmured, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Her fingers brushed your hair from your face as she worked, her sharp eyes narrowing with determination. "We’ve got you."

Rio, still kneeling, glanced up at your family, her expression cold and unreadable. "We’re taking her home," she announced sharply, her voice a chilling contrast to her tender hold on you. "If any of you even think about coming after her again, you’ll regret it."

Your grandfather, who had been gasping for breath moments ago, steadied himself. Despite the magic that had subdued him earlier, his rage burned hot and unrelenting. His lips curled into a sneer, his eyes darting between Rio and Agatha with venomous hatred. "You think you can take care of her?" your grandfather snarled, his voice trembling with fury. "A girl carrying an illegitimate bastard that isn’t your blood?"

The words echoed in the air like a curse, each syllable sinking heavily.

Agatha’s magic faltered for a heartbeat, the crackling tendrils of energy flickering as her sharp blue eyes snapped to your grandfather. Her hands froze mid-motion, the deadly rage in her expression giving way to something unreadable. "What did you say?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet, a cold edge making it cut through the tension like a blade.

Rio’s entire body stiffened, her arms instinctively tightening around you as though to shield you from the weight of the revelation. Her dark brown eyes widened in shock, the fury momentarily replaced with stunned disbelief. "Pregnant?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the humming of residual magic in the air. She lowered her gaze to you, her expression softening as if searching your face for confirmation.

Yourr trembling hand moving to rest protectively over your abdomen. "I didn’t know…" you murmured, your voice cracking with emotion. "I only found out because of him."

Rio’s gaze flickered from your tear-streaked face to your grandfather, her shock quickly morphing back into a smouldering rage. Her lips curled into a snarl, and her grip on you tightened. "You knew she was pregnant," she growled, her voice low and venomous. "And you still hurt her?"

Agatha’s expression darkened, the flicker of hesitation vanishing as her magic roared back to life, more violent and volatile than before. The tendrils snapped and coiled like vipers, wrapping around your grandfather once more and dragging him higher off the ground. His gasps turned to choking wheezes as her power constricted his throat.

"You knew," Agatha said, her voice a deadly whisper that vibrated with barely contained fury. She took a step closer, the air around her crackling with energy. "You knew she was carrying a child—our child—and you still did this to her?" Her voice rose, each word sharper and more venomous than the last. "You are beyond redemption."

Rio shifted her focus back to you, her features softening as she caressed your cheek gently, her touch a stark contrast to the fury burning in her eyes. "We’re taking you home," she said firmly, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and protectiveness. "You’ll never have to face this bastard again."

Agatha, however, didn’t move. Her magic grew brighter, more intense, as her rage consumed her. "This ends here," she hissed, her voice filled with a dark finality. "He will never hurt you again. He will never hurt anyone again."

"Agatha," Rio called sharply, her voice cutting through the haze of power and fury surrounding her lover. "Not now. She needs us more than we need revenge."

Agatha hesitated at the mention of you, her glowing blue eyes flickering to you. Her expression softened for a fleeting moment as she saw the exhaustion and pain etched across your face. But then her gaze snapped back to your grandfather, and her fury reignited. "He doesn’t deserve to live after what he’s done," she growled.

"Agatha…" you croaked weakly, your voice barely a whisper but enough to draw her attention. Your tearful gaze locked with hers. "Please…. I just wanna go home."

Her magic faltered again, the tendrils loosening slightly as your words pierced through her anger. Agatha clenched her jaw, and the internal struggle was evident in how her hands trembled and her eyes flickered between you and your grandfather.

Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, she let the magic dissipate. Your grandfather crumpled to the ground, coughing and gasping for air, his face pale and drenched with sweat.

"Your pitiful life has been spared—for now," Agatha spat, her voice laced with venom as she stepped back with disdain.

Rio adjusted her hold on you, her eyes blazing as she looked over your family. "This is the last time any of you will see her," she said coldly.

Your sister stood frozen in shock, her wide eyes flicking between you and your lovers, while your father looked torn, his mouth opening as if to speak but no words coming out.

As Agatha and Rio carried you out, you felt your strength slipping away, the world around you fading into a blur of light and shadow. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the resolute determination on their faces—a silent promise that they would protect you, no matter the cost.

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: Augh I loved writing this so much help- I think the new Damsel movie affected me too much 😭 Biggest thanks to @cashmoneyyysstuff for beta reading this she’s a QUEEN Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Light cursing, reader is the daughter of Aizawa, Shinso and Eri are biological siblings, Shinso is a year younger than reader, reader is 20 years old, f!reader, reader's mother is dead, medieval fantasy setting, reader's childhood friend is Kirishima, but you're also close friends with Deku and Ururaka, mentions of perverted actions (not done by a name character though, reader's nickname is Cactus, slight spoilers of the actual show/manga, reader is shorter than Kirishima and Shinso, some mentions of IzuOcha.

Pairing(s): Katsuki Bakugou x reader, Izuku Midoriya x Ochako Uraraka

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: A Pot of Stew

Ssssss.... 

The crackle of the fireplace is all you really hear as you flit around through your home, grabbing the big stew pot from the wooden cabinet. The house was quiet, which was surprising, considering you lived with three other people.  

Your father was out with his friend, hoping to catch some fish before the harsh winter would freeze over the lakes. You had sent your brother out earlier to fetch some tomatoes from the market, as the small garden you maintained only produced lettuce, potatoes, onions, and strawberries when they were in season. Hopefully the tomatoes your brother brought back could have seeds that you could save to plant in the spring.  

Your sister was most likely out at Chiyo’s home, the old woman ran the local apothecary was sweet enough to allow the small girl to aid her in crushing herbs and spices to create the medicines that lined her shelves.  

Walking outside, you grab the big bucket by the door, making your way to the home of the Kirishimas, who had a well they let you use to fetch water.  

You mentally groan, knowing that carrying a bucket of water would be a bitch to carry back home. Hopefully you could bug your red-haired friend to aid you in carrying it home if he was around.  

He wasn’t there unfortunately, hooking the bucket to the rope before sending it down to collect water. Once if was full, you pulled the rope that you were holding onto with all your strength, allowing the pulley system to bear most of the weight. 

Deadpanning, you know most of the water that spills out will end on you, sighing in defeat with the resignation that complaining will get you nowhere. You had a family to feed.  

Rolling up the sleeves of your white blouse, you grab the bucket’s handle with both hands, almost dropping it from the sheer weight of it, lamenting the cold sting of the water against your skin as it seeps through your leggings.  

It was almost comical, the way your face was scrunched in concentration as you made your way home, watching your step from the occasional loose pebble so you wouldn’t trip. Your muscles ached, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle, considering how much worse you’d been through when it came to other tasks that required similar feats. It was another perk of being the oldest child, though you were only a year older than your brother, yet you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your family meant the world to you, and you would do everything in your power to protect them. 

Reaching the steps leading up to the door of your home, you set the bucket down finally, your arms practically singing in relief, only for you to pick it up again after turning the doorknob and closing the door shut with your boot-clad foot.  

Making your way to the stew pot that was currently sitting over the fire, you fill it with the water you fetched, letting it boil while you prepared the vegetables you needed.  

Busying yourself with chopping the ingredients you already had, you took the sprigs of cilantro you saved from a few days ago and sliced them so they were thin enough. As you worked your way through the small pile, the door opened to reveal a familiar tuft of purple hair.  

“Hey Toshi!” you call out, waving from the kitchen to signal your presence.  

Your brother takes notice, entering the room and setting the sack of tomatoes on the counter before making his way over to you, ruffling your hair in affection before raising an eyebrow.  

“How much stew are you making?” he asks suspiciously “The four of us aren’t going to be able to eat all of that in time before it tastes bad.” 

You snort, rolling your eyes. “You underestimate Eri’s appetite. Plus, Ejiro, Ochako and Izuku are coming over to join us. I’m making enough for each of our families.” 

Hitoshi chuckles in response, walking over to the makeshift pantry you made a few months ago, grabbing a loaf of bread. “Y/N, you would feed the entire village if you could. Actually, you could, but we wouldn’t let you.” he rolls his eyes playfully and you send him a halfhearted glare.  

“It’s called being nice, Mr. Hitoshi Aizawa, a concept foreign to your cold heart.” you say, placing the back of your hand on your forehead dramatically.  

He groans, taking the knife from you to slice the bread, while you move to take the tomatoes. “Ugh stop, you sound like Toshinori.” he gripes, punching your shoulder in annoyance. 

A giggle bursts out of your lips at that, abandoning the tomatoes you were washing in the basket to strike a pose, letting out an “I AM HERE!” in the best Toshinori Yagi impression you could.  

They used to call him All Might, a war hero who was known for bringing your home country countless victories, the wars he entered had casualty numbers so low that you wondered if he was blessed by the gods. Blessed in the past tense though, as after a critical injury in a recent war, he was deemed unable to fight and left the army with an honorable discharge, growing into the old man he was today, running a stand at the marketplace where he sold quality vegetables from his extensive garden. 

You must’ve looked ridiculous as you posed however, because your brother cackles, throwing his head back and smiling so wide his face must’ve hurt. You laugh too, happiness bubbling in your chest from seeing him so happy as well. You chuck an unwashed tomato at him, knowing he’d catch it, and reprimand him.  

“Okay now get back to work you rodent, we’re feeding a group of seven tonight.” you tease, sticking out your tongue and he tosses the tomato back to you, returning to slicing the bread.  

You both spent the next hour or so like that, trading banter and occasionally fighting, but managing to be productive as you finish cutting all your vegetables, throwing them into the stew pot, creating a lovely aroma that makes your stomach growl in hunger.  

You hear a knock at the door, Hitoshi opting to answer it. It was Chiyo, returning Eri home for the day, the girl in question had a bright smile on her face, and a few bottles of unknown liquids in her hands that were sure to join the others in the washroom’s medicine cabinet. 

“Toshi!!” she squeals, and you smile, hearing a small uff! escape the purplenette’s lips, knowing that Eri most likely hugged him around his legs, the only part of him she could really reach at the moment. Sometimes it was infuriating how much taller he was than you. 

Your brother thanks Chiyo, and the old lady leaves with the promise of fresh baked goods during her next visit. 

“Where’s Y/N??” Eri asks excitedly, and you want to snort at her random burst of hyperness.  

“M’over here banana.” you call from where you sat in front of the fireplace, and Eri trudges over with an annoyed look over her face.  

“I told you not to call me that!” she whines, huffing as she sits down next to you, trying to look into the pot to see what you were making.  

“Careful- it’s hot.” You warn, gently pushing her away. “Plus you love bananas!” 

Your little sister makes a face plopping down to lie on the floor with a grumpy expression. “I hate bananas.” she grumbles, stretching her limbs out to take up as much of the floor as she could. 

You quirk up an eyebrow “Are you sure? You sure look like one.” you say gathering her hair once she sits up and holding it high above her head to resemble the elongated shape of a banana fruit. 

She splutters, and you snort releasing her hair, so it falls straight into her face, and returning your attention to the stew, stirring it and taking the wooden spoon you had out, gathering some of the liquid before bringing it to your lips, tasting it briefly.  

“Toshi!” you call from where you sat. “Can you bring me some paprika?”  

You hear a Yeah whatever come from the hallway, and you return your attention back to your sulking sister.  

“Y’know for someone so nice, you’re really mean.” she pouts, and you smile in a half hearted apology, fixing her hair.  

“Eri, my job as your sister, as well as Toshi’s as your brother, is to be mean to you because we love you so much. If we were nice to you all the time, wouldn’t we be boring?” you ask. 

“Hmm... I guess. Is Izuku coming over today?” she asks, laying her head on your lap looking up at you with impossibly huge sparkling red puppy eyes.  

You laugh, flicking her nose lightly. Izuku was her favorite out of your friends, probably because he worked in the markets, for Toshinori no less, and he brought her apples every day. 

“Yes, Izuku’s coming over for dinner tonight, so go wash up and be on your best behavior.” you say warningly, and she nods, jumping up excitedly and rushing to your shared room.  

Hitoshi enters the living room at that moment, sprinkling the paprika into the stew until you told him to stop, stirring lightly before tasting and grinning in satisfaction.  

Handing him the spoon, Hitoshi has a taste of his own, his eyes lighting up as the flavors hit his tastebuds.  

“Damn.” is all he says, and you punch his leg, happy that he likes it, but scolding him for his language.  

“Eri’s in the other room idiot, go change and I’ll get dinner served before they get here.” you order, shooing him out and you grab a damp towel from the kitchen to carry the pot into the room, setting it on the countertop and placing aforementioned towel on top so it stays warm. Putting out the fire in the living room, you open a cabinet, grabbing a large plate and exactly seven bowls and spoons. Setting the dishes around the large wooden dining table, you spoon equal amounts of stew into each of the bowls, the aroma even stronger now, and you give Eri extra because you know she’ll ask you for more later. 

You brought out the wooden carved drinking cups that you had, a gift from your late mother, setting them around the table and filling them with some of the remaining water from the well. Putting the plate in the middle of the table, you set the bread Hitoshi cut from earlier along with some goat cheese gifted to you by Izuku the previous day.  

Wiping your hands on your apron, you sigh, about to call for your siblings before you hear a knock at the door, revealing a smiling Ejiro Kirishima.  

“Hey Eji!” you beam, wrapping your arms around your lifelong friend, who reciprocates the action and spins you around before setting you down, welcoming himself in- he'd been to your home so frequently certain mannerisms weren’t needed anymore.  

“Hey Cactus!” he smiles back, and you roll your eyes at the nickname.  

Ejiro insisted that your kindness was always a facade and that you were a fiery beast that even hell was afraid of in secret, and the redhead had given you the nickname once seeing you scold man around your age for trying to look up Ochako’s skirt. You insisted you weren’t usually like this, but the nickname stuck, a term of endearment used only by your closest friends.  

You smack his forearm, and roll your eyes, still smiling however, leading him to the dining room before calling out for your siblings.    

Eri bounds in, only to be swept up in Ejiro’s arms, giggling as he spins her around to simulate flight.  

He sets her down and she jumps up, “Again, again!” she chants.  

He groans, feigning pain. “But you’re so heavy!” He says, pretending to faint in your direction, and you roll your eyes and push him off, laughing. “I think you got bigger since the last time I saw you.” 

Eri giggles, putting her hands on her hips. “I saw you this morning silly! That was only...” she counts on her fingers. “47 hours ago!”  

You want to laugh, knowing that it was only about 13 hours since she last saw the red haired male, but Ejiro only groans even more.  

“Exactly! You grew so much from then! You might become even taller than your sister.” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.  

Eri giggles, and Hitoshi joins you three in the living room, stealing a piece of cheese from the table and popping it in his mouth.  

"I'm not short!" You grumble, crossing your arms. "You and Hitoshi are just stupidly tall."

You hear another knock on the door, leaving Ejiro and your siblings to their devices as you answer it. Opening the door, you’re met with Izuku, accompanied by Ochako, both giving you a hug as you let them in, exchanging their signature greetings.  

“Hey Cactus!” they both chirp in unison and you snort, ruffling Izuku’s hair and squeezing Ochako’s shoulder.  

“Hey you two!” you say, smiling knowingly. Ever since the two of them became a couple, they were practically joined at the hip.  

You make your way to the dining room, where Ejiro is seen with Eri on his shoulders, the latter playing with former’s hair while he talks to your brother.  

Eri’s eyes light up, practically launching herself off the poor red head- thankfully Izuku catches her, producing another apple from his satchel.  

You groan, knowing that if Eri ate too many she would grow to get sick of them, but you let her be, knowing that she was happy.  

You all sit down to eat, Shinso on one side of you and Eri on the other. Ejiro sat next to your brother and Izuku sat next to Eri with his girlfriend on his other side.  

Catching up with your friends, and eating the food you made, your eyes couldn’t help but wander to the empty seat at the head of the table, where your father sat.  

He still hadn’t returned from his fishing trip.  

You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, yet you couldn’t help but worry. Your father, Shota Aizawa sustained a terrible injury in a war a few years ago, forcing him to amputate his own leg in order to prevent the toxins from a poison covered arrow from reaching his neural system. It was the same year your mother had died, leaving you, a grieving ten-year-old you to take care of your father as well as a nine-year-old Hitoshi and a newborn Eri. You were forced to grow up fast in those times, a dark patch for your family, yet it became a big part of who you were today.  

Which included your boundless paranoia, thinking the worst as the time ticked by, with no sight of your father.  

Hitoshi takes notice, sending you a worried glance, opening his mouth to say something before the door swings open. 

It was your father, relief flooding through you before you took in his haggard state. He looks tired, more tired than usual. Your father always looked tired, but never weary.  

His eyes scan the room, frantically looking around, before the settle on you.  

“I have bad news.” 

Taglist: @andysdrafts @starieq @nemisimp @missa-archdevilme @coquettefoxxy

@032loe @icedemon1314 @fta1ask4 @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @cuppalevi

@touyasprettydoll @slayfics @yeehawgiddyup13 @notjustanotherextra @frvv

@naoyasbby @sweetblueworm @isentsworld @bkgpackets @moonnm

@bkgrl @satoruyes @eyesforbkg @juicyfingers @aejabba

@noodleryworld @yui-aya @ashiblossom @rv19 @wheezdostuff

@yannvi @liluvtojineteyam @ah-mya @surprisemodafakas @kksmush

@sagejin @cax-per @kit-katsukii

[frxxxncx]

wet shirt - y. jeonghan

»boyfriend!¡yoon jeonghan x fem!¡reader.

»Summary: you were just playing with the cold water, but jeonghan was getting hotter and hotter.

»Tags: smut (MDNI), pet names, establish relationship, comedy?(I tried), exhibitionistm, dirty talk, suggestive (I didn’t write a full sex scene, sorry😭), sex in public, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, jeonghan and reader are two broke collage students, there’s no a/c in the middle of the summer, jeonghan is down bad for readers waist, mingyu’s cousin is car washing with her cheerleaders friends, dom!jeonghan, sub!reader.

»Words: 2,5k

note: I’m struggling to survive during the heatwaves in my country.

note 2: Any typo or incoherence that you might find was completely intentional, it’s for the sake of learning about my mistakes.

An extremely hot day of September, Jeonghan and you were about to die because of the heat, with the a/c broken and without any money to get it fixed, the only thing that was left for both of you to do was endure it.

You were laying on the cold living room floor, feeling briefly fresh, well, only your backs felt cool, but that was better than nothing at all. You wanted to cry so bad, maybe if your boyfriend and you have gotten an smaller apartment or if you had gotten another part-time job all your problems would be solved, but that was the closest apartment to the campus and both of you were in a moment in your carriers were only one job was starting to crash with you studies.

Jeonghan let out a loud sigh and approached you sliding slowly through the floor, a long arm wrapped you tightly, body’s melting together, he hugged your pretty waist, and your face hid in his chest while he smelt the scent of your shampoo.

“Jeonghan, get away from me, we are in the middle of a heatwave with no a/c and the last thing I want is sweat” you said trying to loosen his grip, you only managed to get even more impossibly close to him.

“Your waist is very pretty, did you know?” He stated, letting you go, but now he was outlining your figure, specifically the big curvature of your waist while you were lying on your side.

“It’s not that pretty” a shiver ran through your body at the soft feeling of his hot hands over your covered skin.

“It is, and I like it a lot” he left a cute little peck on your lips, before getting up to go to the kitchen.

You giggled like a high schooler whose boyfriend just kissed her for the first time, and kicked the air once you were laying over your back again. You found the ceiling very interesting for a moment, thoughts ramming in your head, and then one of your top 10 most humbling moments of all time popped up. Well the floor was an incredible place to think about shit from the past.

Trying to forget by closing your eyes tightly you didn’t notice when your boyfriend came running from the kitchen with his phone in his hand, jumping like a child whom just was rewarded with candies.

“¡Baby!” He called you many times jumping beside you, but when you didn’t answer at the fifth call he got genuinely annoyed for a moment.

“Fucking bitch, get up, we are going to earn some quick money” he declared upset, putting one of his feet’s on you stomach.

“Ouch, take your feet away from me and my tummy” you said while grabbing his ankle trying to move him away.

You sat up stretching your back that cracked very loud making you win a weird look from Jeonghan, that was a nice crack though.

“Babe, my tummy” your voice came in a childish tone making you cringe.

“Tummy my ass, get up, we are going to work” he said at the same time he offered you his hand.

“Work?, wher-, no, how? Don’t tell me, did you sell one of my kidneys?” The fake fear in your voice made Jeonghan crack a smile while helping you get up.

“But you can live with only one” he played along, and you gave him a weak punch in his arm “Come on, I would never sell your organs in the black market, they are for me in case I get sick” he said boasting

“You little fucker” you whined in a very high pitched tone while he laugh loudly “Now, for real, where are we going to work in a Sunday afternoon?” You asked, getting close to your boyfriend so you could steal a soft kiss from him.

“We are going to wash some cars with Mingyu’s cousin and her cheerleaders friends” you looked at him in disbelief, where you were going to wash the cars?, Mingyu lived in a New York size apartment with no parking lot “you know the gas station where he works?” You nod and he smiled, an “ooh” left your mouth.

Jeonghan kissed you again, but this time, instead of giving you just a cute peck, you felt his tongue caress your lower lips and with a weak moan you give the wet muscle permission to enter you mouth, his hot tongue stroked your own, a whimper escaped from the kiss and Jeonghan stopped but not without biting onto your lower lips, you were just so cute and desirable.

“Let’s go?” He said licking his pinky and glossy lips.

“Yeah” you felt pathetic from the way your voice came out in a thread. Shit.

[🍭]

The sun was in a burning heat, attacking mercilessly everyone, you were squeezing the sponges, feeling drops of sweat dance in your forehead when you saw how the cheerleaders along with Mingyu's cousin were playing with the water, wetting themselves while soaping the cars.

Both of you were damp in sweat and your hands hurt because of the rough texture of the sponge, but you and your boyfriend were firm, both determined to get the money to fix their portal to heaven. The air conditioner.

Mingyu finished his turn a few hours ago, leaving you and Jeonghan alone, with a bunch of “pretty” teenage girls that were rubbing themselves in the windows of the cars. You noticed how this man who seemed quite old and looked… somehow weird got into the space given from the gas station for the car washing, the car was shining like it was brand new, even the wheels were sparkling.

“Disgusting” you mumbled, but as the time passed by, you didn’t even care to look again if the cars were clean or not, more money for the a/c.

Yet the sun was affecting you, tiny tears were starting to build in your eyes.

“Hannie, my eyes hurt” you said, pounding to just sit next to your boyfriend -whom was cleaning the rims- and hug his side, resting your face in his arm.

“Baby, we’ll be lucky if we just get out of here with our eyes hurting and not with a sunburn,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Can’t wait to have the apartment as cold as the north pole” you whimpered with a high pitch tone.

“Me neither”

[🍭]

You guys didn’t have any idea of how the things turned out this way, the girls were having a wet shirt contest and maybe it was the fact that the school shirts were so soaked they looked translucent and that some of them didn’t have bra, but the clients were giving money like crazy, the tips jar was about to burst, and that indeed made you both so happy.

But your happiness was about to be doomed, you saw how JiWon -Mingyu’s cousin- was getting closer with the old green hose in her hands, with determination in her eyes.

Jeonghan and you ran like a soul who is hunted by the devil, the much younger girl was faster, relentless and with no mercy, the first one to get drenched With the extremely cold water was Jeonghan.

His grey shirt attached to his chest like a second skin, Jeonghan thought that the feeling was going to be excruciating, but the only thing that he felt was satisfaction, making his muscles relax.

“Jiwon!, me too, me too!” You beg when you saw how your boyfriend enjoyed the bath of cold water.

Your cousin’s friend did as requested, soaking you more than your lover who was laughing soundly, he was going to crack a joke when he finally caught more than a glimpse of you, mouth agape at the sight.

The thin fabric of your blouse outlined your delicate figure, accentuating your small waist and the curvature of your breast, black underwear, noticeable under the cloth, your hair looked darker, droplets of water travelled over your neck, disappearing at the collar of the shirt.

Jeonghan was certain, he needed more than just a little splash of water, he was getting hotter and hotter, and if the water wasn’t going to cool him down, only your arousal could.

You gave him a bright smile, his heart melted because you were just too adorable. He wanted to eat you whole.

A smirk was painted in Jeonghan’s pretty face, walking towards you while feeling his hardening cock rub against the fabric of his shorts.

He grabbed you by the waist, body’s so close your face was pressed to his chest, and you couldn’t help but joggle at the hard touch of his dick on your belly.

Jeonghan’s face got close to your ear, biting down your earlobe; he felt you trembling at the action.

“You know, pretty doll?” His hoarse whisper in your ear was ecstasy for you “In this wet shirt’s contest, you are the winner” his grip on your waist tightened taking your breath.

“Han-hannie” you said in a pathetic cry of his name, his hot chest against your was to much,

he was holding you firmly, making you that you could feel his dick poking your belly “We’re at the gas station, Hannie” you tried to move away from him, only managing to make him let go of your waist, but now he was fondling your breast over your shirt in a public space.

“Mmh, you’re right, but I think everyone is focused on the girls, so maybe, it would be better…”his face approached to yours, so close his lips stroked yours faintly “It would be better if we get into the car”he said with his honeyed voice, abiding into your ears“I’m going to fuck you so good, doll” his hot tongue licked you lips and you wanted to cry so bad, because of how much you craved his touch.

Your boyfriend grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers and guided you towards the old -old- jeep, that was parked behind the gas station.

Once you were beside the car, Jeonghan parted away from you, this time groping the curvature of your ass, making you yelp.

With some struggle he opened the back door of the truck and manhandled you into the back seats, getting inside after you, closing the door with a slam.

He hovered over you, dragging with his hands your oversized shorts, smoothing your cute and puffy thighs, feeling the wet and slightly cold skin.

“Jeonghan, I don’t think this is a good idea” you stuttered, containing a loud and scandalous whine because of the flaring touch of your lover getting closer to your crotch.

“It is a bad idea, in fact it is an incredibly bad idea, but that doesn’t mean we are not going to do it anyway” he whispered with mockery splattered all over his voice, his soft lips grazing over you neck, making you shiver.

Jeonghan hands descended completely to your crotch, touching just lightly over your clothed cunt to then grab your waist tightly once again.

His fingers soothed your flesh over the shirt, they stroked your back, meeting with the hem of your shorts and sneaking inside your underwear.

The skin from your ass was smooth and warm, he massaged up and down, squeezing and spreading your asscheeks shamelessly while you drowned your whimpers in his mouth.

His fingers groped your tight and sticky core, caressing carefully, enjoying how you tried to silence your moans biting your knuckles.

He got his hands out of your shorts, unbuttoning them with expertise, pulling them out in a quick swing, skin reddening at the friction.

Your cheeks were bright red, embarrassed because of the situation you were in, naked from the waist down, with the strong and obscene gaze from your boyfriend over your body. Your forearm rested over your eyes, feeling overly exposed. It's not the first time Jeonghan sees you like this, but you still have the entitlement to feel a little bit of shame because of how vulnerable you are right now.

“You’re perfect” he said, grabbing your arm and pinning them over your head with one hand. “You’re perfect and only mine.” He howled and kissed you passionately, sucking, biting your lips, enjoying the sugary taste of your mouth, and swallowing your moans delightedly.

With his free hand, he lifted your soaked shirt, now contemplating your soft and milky skin, his eyes now fixated over your breasts, his free hand moved your bra, tits now spilling over your chest, perky buttons saying “hi” to Jeonghan in neediness.

He licked his lips with lewdness in his eyes, his hot breath made your perky buttons even more sensitive -if that was even possible-, his lips left an open mouthed kiss, gifting you a hickey just above the bud of nerves, to then proceed and bite and suck your nipple, your boyfriend couldn’t help but feel thrilled by the cry’s that slipped from your mouth.

“Ha- nnie” you said in a pathetic mewl, you felt feverish when his teeth bit into the sensitive flesh, just like you were about to pass out from the sensation.

Jeonghan pressed his fingers in your mouth, making you lick and suck them. Once they were covered in your spit, his hand went once again to your cunt, pressing his fingers into your soaked core.

Two of his fingers entered into your inviting pussy without a warning, digits curling and hitting deliciously every good spot inside of you, Jeonghan savored how your face was showered in ecstasy, knowing that only him could make you feel this good.

You rolled your eyes and your mouth fell agape, gutural moans coming from you, your damp hair sticking to your soft skin and your cunt drooling exited, velvety walls pulsating and sucking his fingers, making him grunt because sooner than later it would be his cock fucking you to the hilt.

“Y/n l/n, hear your name now, pretty, because I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget it”.

[🍭]

Fast forward to now, Jeonghan was doing the roll of a crutch so you could walk properly towards the younger girls. The mess spilling from your cunt into your underwear making you feel embarrassed, and the burn in your gummy walls, only made you more expectant for what was coming at home.

“Jeonghan, I can assure you that you fucked something inside of me” you whispered not feeling your legs at all, they were asleep because of the cramped place you just had sex in.

“I did more than that,” he said nonchalantly, tightening the grip on your waist.

“Shut up!” you said in a funny cry.

Once you were close to the group of girls, they excitedly gave you an envelope full of money as they thanked you for the help.

Jeonghan got so excited that he let you go, making you lose your balance. You felt a sharp pain in your knees, a loud howl slipped from your mouth, and when your boyfriend looked at you, he felt his dick twitch in his shorts at the view, you were giving him such a mean glare.

“Don’t look at me like that, I might fuck you again”

[roguerogerss]

Wanted To Have You

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

W/C: 3.7k (i think i didn’t check tbf)

Warnings: mention of smut (no actual smut though), swearing, arguing

(welcome back babes, missed you. tommy has been on my mind all the time recently so i decided i’d bang something out and post it. it’s basically just word vomit tbh but hope u enjoy. LOVE a lil bit of angst when it comes to peaky blinders and hope u do too!! luv u the most b back soon)

***

Birds chirped, the sounds of the market opening began, golden sunlight poured in through the window. The morning had come too early, but Tommy was always a sight to see in the morning.

Laid on his back, one arm curled loosely around her waist, the other on his chest, right above a bullet scar that Y/N had helped Polly to stitch up in early January. His lips were parted slightly, chest rising and falling, dark lashes settled on ruddy cheeks.

She smiled and traced the tattoo on his chest ever so lightly with the tip of her painted fingernails, her way of quietly waking him up. It always worked, and today was no exception. He sighed as he stirred, a small smile making it's way onto his face.

"G'mornin', love." How she loved the way that his voice sounded in the morning. Heavy with the day before's cigarettes, low and gravelly, Brum accented. "Sleep okay?"

"Slept great." She was so tired from the night before's antics that she couldn't have stayed awake another second after they'd collapsed onto the mattress and he'd pulled her close underneath the sheets. "Did you?"

Tommy hummed, "Mm, slept alright. Wasn't great, thinkin' a lot."

"Thinkin' about what?" Her fingers absentmindedly wandered from his tattoo to the back of his neck, tugging at the short hairs that gathered there.

"Business stuff, darlin'. Nothin' for you to worry your pretty little head about." He gave a soft, bleary-eyed smile and pressed a hand to her cheek, thumb stroking back and forth.

"Tommy, you always say it's just 'business stuff'. Why won't you just tell me what's going on for once?" She wasn't angry, really, but the pout on her face might've said otherwise. Business stuff was the closest that she ever got to knowing anything about Tommy's personal life.

But rumours fly, and she'd heard a lot from the people of the town that made her think that her Thomas wasn't as innocent as she thought he might be.

"I've told you. It's not important, nothing you'd want to hear." His voice strained as he stretched, biceps flexing as he raised his arms above his head. "Would bore ya, honest."

"You don't bore me, Tom." She looked up at him through her lashes and he gave a short-lived chuckle and ran his fingers soothingly through her hair.

"I have to get up." He ignored her statement and gave her a quick kiss on the top of the head, before rolling over and sitting up. He was still only wearing his underwear, and so she marvelled at the way that the muscles in his back flexed as he moved to grab his previously ironed button-down shirt from the side table.

She almost forgot that she was angry as he got up and pulled his slacks on, shirt still unbuttoned and the light hitting his toned torso just right. "I'll see you later, sweetheart." Tommy leaned down to place a kiss on his girl's lips, barely taking a second to enjoy the feeling but really only doing it so that he could continue to taste her on his lips for the next hour or so.

"Family meeting?" It was obvious that Y/N was unimpressed, but Tommy either didn't notice or was pretending that he hadn't, because he didn't comment and simply nodded. "And I can't come?”

"Told ya." Tommy tucked his shirt into his slacks and knotted his tie, eyeing Y/N all the while. "Would bore you."

He wanted to tell her about what he did. He really, really did. But he also wanted to keep her, and he knew that he couldn't do both. There was no way that she'd want to stay with him if she knew about all of the terrible things that he'd done, and so he'd made everyone who worked with him agree that she was never to know.

He supposed that she'd get suspicious at some point, but he hadn't expected that point to come so soon. It had been a year, and he figured that the towns people spoke and that she heard, but he was dreading having to actually let her know by himself.

"And I've told you," Y/N had gotten up, pulling her silk robe around her small body and padding lightly across the floor to where Tommy stood. She fixed out his jacket and smoothed down his shirt affectionately. "You don't bore me."

"We can talk later." Tommy smiled softly, hand smoothing Y/N's hair against her head as he pressed his lips to her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. She made him linger for a second, hands grabbing at the back of his neck and holding him in place as their lips moved together.

Tommy chuckled and pressed his forehead against hers. "I have to go.

"Fine." She pecked his lips once again and then let him go. "Go about your business, Mr Shelby."

"As I will, Miss Y/L/N." He smiled and then he was gone, unlocking the bedroom door and slipping out of the room.

**

Y/N was furious. That was really the only word that she could think of to describe the sheer anger that bubbled inside of her. Thomas Shelby is a Peaky Blinder.

And she knew that the statement from the woman at the market wasn't a lie. What other reason would he have to hide everything from her? To never tell her about his life or where he'd been or why he would often come to bed at ungodly hours?

She stormed into their shared home and, upon seeing him sat at the kitchen table, cigarette in hand, decided that she couldn't deal with him. And so she threw him a look and then took off up the stairs to their bedroom.

Tommy followed, of course he did, yelling her name and asking what was going on. But she ignored him, simply sitting down on the bed and waiting for him to join her.

"What's wrong, love? Did someone do something? I swear, I'll-"

"You'll what, Tommy?" She stood then, still keeping her distance but crossing the room only slightly. "Cut them? Kill them?"

"What the hell is this about?" Tommy sighed. He seemed bored already, unprepared to listen to her ramble because, oh, Thomas Shelby knew that his girlfriend could ramble for hours.

"Let me see your hat." She knew what the Peaky Blinders were, she knew fair well what the name meant, and she needed to confirm what the townsfolk had told her. "Where is it? Show me it!" She started searching for the hat, opening drawers and cabinets, she knew that she had to find it, because she had to know.

"Y/N, calm down, for God's sake." Tommy clasped a hand around her forearm, but she yanked it away and simply stared up at him, tears threatening to fall from her already glassy eyes.

"Are you one of them?" Her voice was almost a whisper, so quiet and timid that maybe Thomas wouldn't have heard her if they weren't almost chest to chest. "Are you a Peaky Blinder, Tommy?"

And now she was really crying, tears smudging the makeup on her cheeks and clouding her vision as Tommy's piercing blue eyes stared down at her. He was thinking, thinking about whether it was best to tell the truth or to leave, and thinking about what the consequences of each would be.

What would she do if he told her? Would she yell? Hate him? Would she leave? And what if he left? Would she let him back in?

But she looked so vulnerable, was crying so hard because she already knew the answer. And Tommy wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her head and wipe the tears from her eyes. But it was his fault that she was crying, he'd caused the tears and the hurt. And he had to tell her.

"Yes." Her heart felt like it might've stopped. Because Tommy was the only person that she trusted, and now she felt like she knew nothing about him.

The room fell silent, she stared at him and waited for words to come, and she waited, and waited. Thomas wouldn't break eye contact with her. In truth, because he was scared that, if he did, he'd never look into her eyes again, she'd leave and she wouldn't come back, she'd go back to Ireland, back where people told her things because that was the right thing to do, because they weren't afraid of what the Peaky Blinders might do to them.

She decided, after a few beats of standing still, staring at him, heavy breaths coming from both of them, that she couldn't look at him anymore. She'd been waiting for him to say something, anything, that would mean that this had all been some sort of sick joke. He'd start laughing, tell her he was kidding, that the woman at the market had told her that just to see how she would react. She'd be angry, yes, but it'd only be short lived, and it wouldn't change anything.

But he didn't, and he wouldn't, because she already knew there was no hint of a lie in what she'd been told. She took a last, deep breath, and then departed to the other side of the room, where she turned her back to Thomas and took a few more deep breaths.

"Listen, love, I...I wanted to tell you-"

"Don't, Thomas."

"I really did. I wanted to. But I knew you'd react like this-"

"And so you thought that keeping it from me was right? You thought that holding the threat of the Peaky Blinders over the entire town's head to keep them quiet, was the right thing to do? You thought I'd be happy when I eventually found out?" Thomas found himself falling silent, speechless. He was never speechless.

"I was hoping to tell you myself."

"Well, you missed the opportunity to do that two years ago, Thomas." She'd picked up her handbag now, and Thomas noticed that tears had pricked his eyes and were threatening to fall. "To think I worked for you, as your secretary. I signed off your fucking books, I made phone calls for you, you involved me in this without even telling me, you didn't even ask me if that was what I wanted, Thomas."

"I know, and I'm sorry-"

"Pack your things."

"Love-"

"Pack your things, Thomas. And don't you ever call me anything other than my name."

And with that, she'd gone. To where, Thomas wasn't sure, but he found himself watching her, almost in slow motion, as she stormed through their bedroom door. He could hear her heels clicking as she hurried down the stairs, the brief pause as she pulled her coat - the one he'd bought her for their anniversary - around her body, and then the click open and slam shut of the front door.

He lowered himself onto the bed, placed his head in his hands, and sat for a few minutes in silence. The window was open, and so the sounds of the bustling street below floated upstairs, and he tried not to listen. The thought that she was out there, inconsolably upset, with every intention of leaving him, because of a mistake he'd made off his own back seemed entirely too much to handle.

So he closed the window, lay back on the bed, and lit the end of a cigarette. He needed to figure out a way to make things right by her, after all, Thomas Shelby didn't care about opinions, but what she thought of him was the most important thing in the world.

**

She'd gone to the Shelby's family home, mostly to try to seek comfort from either Ada or Polly, but also to berate the brothers for not thinking to tell her their secret.

She burst through the front door, to find Polly and Ada at the dining table, each smoking a cigarette. They jumped up when they saw her, womanly instinct coming into full effect, knowing that something must've been wrong from the way she'd stormed in, and the look on her face when she had.

"What's he done, my love?" Polly was always best at being able to tell when Thomas had messed up, and she was always on the right track when it came to guessing what he'd done wrong. His aunt knew him better than anyone, as much as he'd hate to admit it.

"Did you know?" She was breathing heavily, trying not to let the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes slide down her cheeks.

"Know what, love?" Ada had come to Y/N's side now, guiding her to sit down at the kitchen table, and had shooed the men away, into the drawing room, after Arthur had come mooching for a bottle of rum.

"Did you know what he was doing?" Her eyes were full of tears now, making it hard for her to see properly. She placed her elbows on the table and used the sides of her palms to wipe the tears as they fell. Polly pulled her chair over so that she was sat close to Y/N.

"Calm down, sweetheart." Polly placed a tentative hand on her arm, "What has he done?" His aunt could feel her heart drop in her chest, from the way that Y/N was speaking, she was almost certain that her nephew had cheated on his girlfriend.

"Did you know he was a Peaky Blinder? Is that what they're doing through there?" Y/N was really crying now, looking that horrible, vulnerable way that Tommy hated. Arthur had opened the door a crack, and he, John, and Finn were peeking out at the women sat in the kitchen.

Ada sighed and ran a hand over her face, and Polly seemed to erupt into anger, "We bloody told him, didn't we Ada? We told him you'd find out, but he listened to these bloody idiots," She jabbed a finger at the doors to the drawing room, which made Arthur crack up like a child, provoking Polly to pick up a teaspoon from the table and throw it at his face. "The women in this house are apparently the only ones with any sense in them."

"Why wouldn't he tell me, Polls?"

Polly took a long pause before answering. Thomas's reasonings had never been clear, behind any of his madness, and, even while having known him his entire life, she often wondered what the method behind the goings-on in his life was. "Listen, love, you know he loves you, yes?"

Y/N nodded slowly, a puzzled expression crossing her face. "Then you know how he protects the people he loves. Yes, he does all of this bad work, but he doesn't want you to know because he's scared something will happen to you if you know too much. And he doesn't want you to see him as this monster, Thomas Shelby, the leader of the Peaky Blinders. Sometimes, he just wants to be Tommy. Do you know what I'm saying?"

Polly, as always when she assumed anything about Tommy, was right. He'd liked Y/N from the moment he'd hired her to work as his secretary, but he knew she wasn't the type to turn a blind eye to his work. He supposed it was selfish, not telling her, but he wanted her to know him for who he was, not what he did.

She let out a sigh, partly letting go of all of the anger she'd built up towards Tommy, and partly because she was relieved to hear what his aunt had to say about it. "I know what you're saying, Pol."

A long pause followed, with only the bustle of the drawing room keeping the place from being in dead silence. Polly's hand was still resting on Y/N's arm, and Ada's on her back, and she found herself able to forgive. The Shelby women certainly had their ways.

"What do you want to do, love?" Polly broke the silence that had settled on the room.

"I don't know." Y/N couldn’t even think of anything else that she could say, she truly didn’t know what she wanted. Polly’s face contorted slightly, and Ada rubbed her hand up and down over Y/N’s back.

"Well, are you going to tell him it's over?" Ada asked, voice quiet, so as not to alert the men in the other room that anything too serious was being spoken about. She thought for a moment, feeling a pang of sadness come over her at the fact that she had to even think about whether or not she wanted to end things with Tommy.

"No. No, I'm not going to do that."

Polly breathed out, a breath that she didn’t even know she’d been holding, and wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her in and squeezing her in a way reminiscent of a mother holding her daughter.

"Okay. Okay, good. He does love you, so much, you know that?” It was a rhetorical question, and Polly didn’t leave enough time for Y/N to even answer. “Do you want to go home? Or will Ada boil the kettle and we can have a brew?"

"A brew would be nice."

**

The air was almost cold when she left the Shelby house to start the walk home. Summer was coming to an end now, but the sky was still bright past nine. She'd begun noticing things that she hadn't before, after finding out Thomas's secret. People would greet her profusely as she walked down the street, some even going out of their ways to let her past. They'd hold their children back from walking in front of her, the men working at the furnace would shield her from any soot that might come her way.

It felt strange, like Thomas was king of Small Heath and she was his Queen, and god forbid anyone see what might happen if they disrespect the Queen. She made an effort of smiling and thanking these people, showing that she didn't actually need them to be doing these things for her, but they did them regardless.

When she reached the front door of the house she shared with Thomas, she stood for a moment, simply staring at the front door. The mark was still there from the nail Thomas had banged into it months ago now, so that she could hang a holly wreath there to celebrate Christmas. He'd called it unnecessary, but they'd only just moved in together and she'd been so excited for their first Christmas in their new home, she'd come home from work one day to find the largest wreath Thomas could find at the market, hanging on their front door.

She smiled to herself, suddenly feeling emotional with all of the memories of their time together coming flooding back. She opened the door.

She was pleased to find that, when she got home, Thomas's hat and coat were still hanging on the coat stand at the front door. His pocket watch on the mantelpiece, shoes still placed neatly at the door. He hadn't gone anywhere yet.

"Thomas?" She called, and was met with the sound of soft footsteps in the bedroom.

"Upstairs." His voice was quiet, small, something that hurt her to hear. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him truly upset, even after two whole years.

She placed her handbag on the floor and draped her coat over the coat stand, then crossed the hallway and climbed the stairs to their bedroom, where Tommy was sat on the bed, head in his hands, suitcase at his feet. She felt a piece of her heart chip away upon seeing him.

"I'll be gone soon enough, I just-I didn't want to believe that-"

"Do you want to leave, Tom?" She took a few steps towards him, and Tommy lifted his head to look at her for the first time. His eyes were red, and she knew that Tommy Shelby strictly did not cry, except when it came to her.

A pause followed, Tommy simply staring up at her, opening and closing his mouth every now and again, thinking of the right thing to say. Was there a right thing to say?

"You know I'm not really religious. But I've been praying all day that you'd come home and we'd be fine again." A small, sad looking smile had settled on his face.

"Maybe you should start going to church, then." She placed her house keys down on the bedside table, she was here to stay. Tommy felt a weight lifted from his shoulders as she gave him a small smile and held her arms out to him, letting him back in, “Come here."

He didn’t hesitate, pulling her into his lap and wrapping himself tightly around her. Please don’t leave again, he was saying, eyes closed and cheek pressed to her stomach. Her arms settled around his neck, one hand drawing comforting patterns on his shoulder and the other smoothing his hair.

"I wasn't doing it to upset you." He needed an explanation for her, he owed her that, especially after she’d come back when he wouldn’t have blamed her for walking out of the door and never having a thought of him again.

"I know you weren't." He hated how forgiving she was. He hated that he’d done wrong, and, instead of just leaving like she deserved to, she’d come back and was comforting him, making him feel good about the lies he’d fed her. But he knew her all too well, he knew deep down she’d have forgiven him, because she wasn’t one to deal with things in any way other than graciously.

"No, sweetheart, I know I've been selfish. I know I’m not fair to you. But I'm only selfish because it's you." His hands roamed her back, underneath her dress, feeling every dip and scar, memorising them again, “I just wanted to have you, loved you since the minute I met you, I swear. Couldn't have you thinking of me as this cold, relentless monster. I just remember thinking you were too pure to know, thought I’d only ruin that if I got too close and you knew the truth.”

“I know you better than you know yourself, Tommy. You’ve got a heart in there, you know.” She gave him a small smile while he looked up at her, bright eyes piercing through dark eyelashes, “I don’t understand why you did all of this for me, you could’ve chosen another woman, one who you could’ve even helped you with your work all this time, but you chose someone who you felt like you had to hide everything from.”

“Told you already, I just wanted to have you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then one to your nose, and then your lips. “You, not anyone else, not a woman who’d do my work for me, not someone easy, I wanted to have you. And you know I’m selfish with things that I want.”

You were really smiling now. Tommy always knew the right things to say, always knew how to make you happy. You wrapped your arms around him again, and, while Tommy didn’t like to admit it, he felt safe with you, something that he didn’t feel in many places.

“Thomas Shelby, you’ll always have me.”

[the-penguin-of-baskervilles]

Chapter 32: On Hold

Summary: Princess struggles to rebuild her life after quitting her job and breaking ties with Lloyd. Zach offers her a new opportunity, but her reluctance to re-enter Lloyd’s orbit holds her back, but then an unexpected meeting offers her a glimpse of what could be.

Word Count: 3,294

Masterlist

Warnings: This chapter contains themes of emotional distress and a scene with a nightmare/flashback.

Chapter 32: On Hold

Friday, April 25th - 03:20 AM

You jolted awake, the memory crashing over you. Breath caught in your throat as you flailed against damp, twisted sheets. 

Two months had passed since your breakup with Lloyd, but your body still couldn’t tell the difference between past and present. Again and again, it replayed that night, tricking your nervous system into reacting as if it were happening all over again. It wasn’t a nightmare—that would suggest it was imagined. It was a flashback. A vivid, unrelenting replay of the night Lloyd ended everything. At least three times a week, sometimes more, your brain used the soft vulnerability of sleep to ambush you with every ugly detail of that final dinner, in sharp technicolor. Maybe the dreams were supposed to act like exposure therapy. The problem was, your reaction never dulled. Each time, the devastation felt as sharp and new as the first. You sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed your fingertips into your eyes, as if you could scrub away the memory. 

The basement of your parent’s house was too large, too open, for comfort. It was twice the size of your old apartment back in D.C. On the nights when you had flashbacks that coziness was desperately missed. 

After quitting Bishop & Howard, you’d gone to your parents, had an embarrassing emotional melt down in front of them, which earned you an official invitation to move back in. You shoved everything in boxes, put the apartment on the market, and ended up with three offers on the place by 5 o’clock. Then you ran back to Virginia, past the outskirts of suburban D.C., to the safety of your childhood home where you’d taken up residence in their recently finished basement. On the upside, the bathroom was super nice with a dual showerhead and heated flooring. On the downside, the expansive room made you feel lonely, your thoughts bouncing off the walls and echoing back at you, as though there was too much space and nowhere to hide.

Lloyd had dismantled your relationship, but dismantling the rest of your life had been your own doing. He ended things so swiftly, unexpectedly, that it still felt as if the earth had been pulled out from under your feet, like gravity had been turned off. You’d come to accept that to some extent, Lloyd had been your gravity. He’d been at the center of your orbit. First as your best friend and then as your partner. Now you were spinning out of orbit, untethered and heading… who knew where. You certainly didn’t. You didn’t have a plan, or even a concept of a plan. All you wanted was to get away from everything that you knew. 

Everything had been dismantled—most of it by your own hand. Now you were left living in the wreckage of it all.

You wished you’d fought him on it that day, but even as you thought it, there was no real hope behind the idea. Lloyd had always held his convictions with a resolve you couldn’t begin to match. But still, you hadn’t done anything to stop him and that was almost like a moral injury that lingered, a perpetual thorn in your side that continued to bleed. It was one thing for Lloyd to dismiss your efforts to fight, but another thing to contend with—that there had been no effort to fight at all put up by you. You’d let the relationship slip away without fighting for it. 

Leaning forward, you wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into a ball. You laced your fingers together tightly and squeezed until your knuckles ached. Your heart raced like someone was chasing you. Fragments of thoughts and flashes of memories spun through your head, a relentless blur you couldn’t shut off. You should be coping better than this after two months, shouldn’t you? But you weren’t.

The dream—the memory—came back, night after night, slicing open the wound over and over. Lloyd had taken something from you. Something more than love or friendship, something essential and you couldn’t figure out what it was, and therefore couldn’t dream of replacing it. You were afraid you’d never stop missing him. He’d ripped you in half and it felt like you were destined to continue on, only half of a person, forever. 

Your eyes burned, but no tears came. With your heart racing, sleep felt impossible. Besides, your head was a minefield when you closed your eyes. Lloyd had made his choice and you’d let him make it. Why hadn’t you done more? Why hadn’t you fought harder, made him see that this relationship was worth saving? That question haunted you, sometimes a few times a day, sometimes hundreds.

Maybe he thought ending things was what you needed. It was the only explanation you could come up with, based on the cryptic things he’d said that night. But it had felt so sudden, so inexplicable. He hadn’t explained. He hadn’t let you plead your case. He’d ended things on his own terms, of his own volition.

In his own broken way, maybe that was Lloyd’s idea of self-sacrifice. He’d claim he wasn’t capable of such a thing, but you knew better. If he believed he couldn’t be what you needed, he would have ended the relationship—if only to set you free.

Or maybe he’d simply gotten bored. He wasn’t the relationship type. You’d both agreed it was a fling at the start, so maybe he was just seeing it through to its natural conclusion. Maybe you were the crazy one, losing your mind over it.

With a deep breath, you unfolded yourself and lay back down, turning to face the alarm clock. 3:30 a.m. In an hour, you’d need to get up for work. You knew you should try to sleep, though you didn’t have high hopes. Lately, once your mind got tangled up in these thoughts, there was precious little you could do to quiet it. 

Still, you buried your head in the pillow, willing yourself to stop thinking.

For once, sleep came

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Friday, April 25th - 02:17 PM

Your father’s construction company had excellent benefits. That was why you had a job, at least for the time being. His regular bookkeeper, Chelsea, was out on maternity leave, and you were filling in. Full-time for now, then part-time once she returned in mid-May. 

Bookkeeping was insufferable, but it was a job. Your father was an easy boss. He didn’t micromanage, or hoover, just let you get on with things. Most of the time he was out of the office, visiting job sites and keeping an eye on his crews. The bookkeeping work was straightforward and the secretarial part of your duties was practically mindless. You’d found a rhythm and by the second week, realized you could do this job in half the time allotted. Instead of mentioning that to your Dad, you stuck around for the full eight hours, pretending to be busier than you were.

Every day, you sat at the wobbly desk in the trailer office, shuffling through invoices and timesheets, wondering what you were doing with your life. There was nothing wrong with being a bookkeeper, but if you could finish the work on a part-time schedule, Chelsea would probably be even faster. Once she returned, there wouldn’t be enough work to keep you on, and you couldn’t justify staying and taking advantage of your father’s generosity.

You rubbed your temple, glaring at the computer screen where numbers were already sorted into neat columns. Maybe it was time to look for another job. Something real, something in your skill set, something that actually mattered. The thought of jumping back into the paralegal world—or shifting to a lobbyist group, since they always seemed to be hiring—settled in your stomach like a lead weight. D.C. was a small legal circle. You’d run into people who knew what had happened with Lloyd. You might even run into Lloyd himself. The thought made you shudder.

The sound of heavy boots echoed on the metal steps of the trailer. You groaned. You knew who it was before the three-rap knock.

“It’s open,” you called.

Your visitor stepped in, shoving dark lensed Ray-Bans up onto his forehead. Sunlight slanted through the door, brightening his sandy hair to gold for a moment.

“Hey, Zach. How’s it going?”

Your eyes fixed on the tray of coffees in his hand. It contained two iced lattes and one Frappuccino.

“You pick up an extra by accident?”

“No. It’s for your Dad.”

“How do you know what kind of Frappuccino my Dad prefers?”

“His Instagram’s public. I cyberstalk it sometimes. It’s been my most reliable source of info on you of late—since I barely see you anymore.”

“Aside from your weekly visits to my workplace?”

Zach set the iced latte on your desk. “I’m considering renovating my offices. I need a quote.”

“We’re booked through November.”

He took off his sunglasses and hooked them onto his shirt collar before dropping into the chair across from you with a mock-sigh. “Shame.”

You leaned back in your chair, ignoring its squeal of protest. “Zach, I’m at work. I’m busy.”

“Are you? Because the last edit on that spreadsheet was at 10:27 A.M.”

“Fine, I’m not busy. I’m bored out of my mind. What do you want?”

His grin widened. “To see you doing something more productive than balancing books you finished yesterday.”

So he’d noticed the date, not just the time stamp. Your cheeks warmed. He wasn’t wrong, but the jab got under your skin. “Don’t you have your own company to run?”

“I do. That’s actually why I’m here.”

You crossed your arms. “Don’t make this about your savior complex. Lloyd and I didn’t work out. I trashed my career at B&H all by myself. You don’t need to rescue me.”

“I’m not trying to rescue you. Okay, maybe part of me feels oddly guilty that I didn’t at least try to warn you off of him, or ask you to think twice about getting involved with someone as complicated as Lloyd. But that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve hired a new investigator. He starts in May.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I think the two of you would work well together. If you come on board—even if it was temporarily—it’d make his orientation easier.”

“Landon handles all your training.”

“He’s getting married in May. You should know, you’re invited to the wedding.”

“Right.”

You’d been trying to forget about the upcoming nuptials. Seeing Lloyd there wasn’t something you wanted to ponder for too long.

Zach hooked an ankle over his knee, studying you with an intensity that made you feel like a bug under a microscope.

“You’re bored.”

“And?”

“I can fix that.”

Fixing your boredom would put you back in Lloyd’s orbit, which was a price you weren’t sure you were willing to pay.

“I’m good. Thanks for thinking of me though. I’m flattered.”

“Come on. The job starts in May. Your dad’s regular girl will be back by then, and you’d be free to start with us. Perfect timing.”

“Why me? There are a dozen people who’d jump at the chance to work with you.”

“I don’t like those people. Besides, you’ve already worked with my new hire, and he’s a little high-strung. Not everyone can handle him.”

You frowned. “Who is it?”

“Marco Lattimer.”

“Huh.” You didn’t want to be intrigued, but you were. You stared at Zach, torn between wanting to roll your eyes and feeling the pull of half-burried ambition.

“You’re good at investigations. We need someone who can handle some of Jake’s simpler computer work.”

The yearning sharpened. You tried to shove it down, but failed. Zach smirked.

“I know you. I like you. We work well together. I don’t have to figure out how to fit two new personalities into the firm because I already know you. And I trust you to work with Marco, even though he’s kind of a judgy son of a bitch.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“He’s a boy scout,” Zach said.

“So is Landon.”

“Yeah, but he’s not as high and mighty about it.”

“Are you asking me to take this job so you don’t have to deal with Marco?”

Zach snorted. “I can handle Marco. I just prefer him in small doses. Also, I think you need something to pull you out of this funk.”

“I don’t want to work with Lloyd anymore. Not for a while.”

“Perfect. I’m not about to put him and Marco in the same room.”

“Really? They’re that bad?”

“I have no idea. They haven’t seen each other in ten years.”

You glanced down at your desk—the neatly stacked timesheets, the untouched calculator.

“I’ll think about it.”

Zach stood, smoothing his shirt. “Alright. I’ll be back on Monday. I expect an answer then.”

You watched him leave, the door clicking softly behind him. A thick suffocating silence settled over the room. You dropped your head onto the desk and groaned.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Saturday, April 26th - 01:20 PM

You sat in the parking lot a block from Café M, debating whether you were up for coffee or if your social battery was tapped out. Jen had enticed you into a Saturday morning Pilates class but had to leave right after to pick up her son from baseball camp. That suited you fine because it meant you got to see Jen, hang out, all while avoiding uncomfortable questions, or updates about Lloyd and the rest of your old coworkers at B&H. According to Jen, Andy was pissed you’d quit and was needling Lloyd about it at every opportunity. You hated thinking about the trail of drama you’d left in your wake.

Jen was worried. The subtle glances she shot you before and after class spoke volumes, though she hadn’t said anything. You were grateful for her restraint; it was the polar opposite of Zach’s ham-handed approach to managing your life. At least with Jen, the concern was quieter, less invasive. Going to Pilates with her felt like proof you were doing okay, that you weren’t sinking too far into the spiral of doom, and losing all of your social connections.

Since you’d already driven into the city, heading straight home felt wrong. Stopping at your favorite café gave you a chance to clear your head before returning to your parents’ house. The thought of the long drive felt suffocating. You ducked into the café, ordered your usual iced vanilla latte with a shot of espresso and claimed a small corner table by the window.

Your mind wandered as you stirred the drink, tracing circles in the condensation pooling on the table. The buzz of voices and hiss of the espresso machine filled the small room but none of it drowned out the memories. You thought of the afternoons when you’d worked on Lloyd’s cases at the corner booth and the couple of times when you’d met him here on Sunday afternoons. Why had you decided to come here? You should’ve gone straight home.

“Figured I’d find you here, dah-lin’,” a voice behind you drawled.

You recognized the stretched vowels, the near-absent ‘r’—not clipped like a Boston accent, but softened and slow. That Tidewater lilt turned everything smooth and a little formal, like it was dialogue in a black-and-white movie. 

"Marco. How’d you find me?"

“I wouldn’t be much of a private investigator if I couldn’t track down one law-abiding citizen on a Saturday afternoon, now would I?”

He stood in front of your table, coffee in hand, a black Henley stretched across his broad shoulders, and a sly smile curving his lips. Casual clothes looked good on him. 

“Why did you hunt me down?”

He pulled out the chair opposite you without asking, settling in like you were old friends meeting up instead of him ambushing you out of the blue. 

“Zach said you’ve been dragging your feet accepting his employment offer,” he said.

Heat crept up your neck. “So you decided to stalk me?”

“I prefer the term ‘reconnaissance.’ It sounds friendlier. I wanted to find out what was holding you back.” He leaned in, forearms on the table, his voice dropping so only you could hear. “I heard you’re playing bookkeeper and bored out of your mind. What’s the problem?”

You wrapped your hands around the cold glass of your iced coffee, eyes lowering. “I’m still weighing my options. I don’t know if it’s the right move at the moment.”

Marco laughed, his disbelief clear. “Liar. You’re avoiding Lloyd. Can’t blame you for that—I get the same urge. Still can’t stand him, no matter what affinity Zach feels towards him. But don’t let his mistakes dictate your future.”

You raised an eyebrow, realizing Zach had shared with him more than you’d thought. Marco’s bluntness was like a slap, but his expression was fond, almost amused.

“I’m not scared of seeing Lloyd,” you said, though even you didn’t believe it.

Marco sipped his coffee and said nothing.

The silence tightened around you. He studied you the way Zach had yesterday, like you were a bug under a microscope and he was trying to figure out what species you belonged to. His head tilted. “Landon’s wedding’s next weekend, right?”

“Uh… yes. Why?”

“Are you going?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

Your pulse kicked up. You opened your mouth, but he cut you off.

“Don’t look so scandalized. I’m asking because it’d be more fun with a date. Besides, Landon and I go way back. It wouldn’t hurt to show him I can clean up and be civilized.”

Your cheeks flushed. “That’s presumptuous of you, Marco.”

He leaned back, draping one arm over the back of his chair. “Come on, Princess. It’s a win-win. I get a date, you get a buffer against Lloyd.”

The idea twisted your stomach. It was ridiculous, and yet the thought of showing up alone, knowing you’d have to face him again…Perhaps Marco was onto something. 

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

He grinned, rising smoothly and sliding a napkin across the table. You glanced down at the scrawl of blue ink. His phone number. “Do that. And think about the job, too. I’m not waiting forever.”

You watched him leave, climb on a jet black Harley-Davidson motorcycle and disappear into traffic. 

Irritation and intrigue wrestled for dominance. Marco was just as domineering and annoying as Lloyd, but he went about it with less abrasiveness. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe it was time to stop spinning your wheels. Time to stop hibernating and branch out. Accepting Marco’s invitation would certainly make Landon’s wedding easier. You picked up the napkin, typed the number in and saved a new contact.

On the drive home, you thought about his offer. About the possibility of accepting the job with Zach’s firm.

An hour later you pulled into the driveway and parked behind your mom’s faded Subaru, then called Zach from your car’s bluetooth. 

“What’s up? Make it quick. I’m on the seventeenth hole.”

You laughed. “Alright. I don’t want to work with Lloyd, if it can be avoided. I know there might be a time when it can’t be prevented but for now…I’d rather not see him. Also, I’d like to work with Marco. I’ll accept your job offer if we can be partners.” 

“Perfect. I’ll have my lawyer send you a written offer Monday. We’ll talk details later.”

He hung up without a goodbye.

You opened Marco’s contact and tapped out a message.

I accepted Zach’s offer. We’re finalizing Monday. Also, my dress for the wedding is pale green. Don’t wear a tie that clashes. Pick me up at nine. I trust you can find my address...stalker.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Next Chapter - Coming Soon

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[bomber-grl]

Flufftober 2024

Day 3: Farmers Market

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Gn!Reader

Someone take Damian away from me right now

As the fall entered your lives this year round so did a farmers market poster. You were walking back from the Wayne manor to your house when you caught a farmers market flyer for the next town over set for the upcoming Saturday.

Naturally, you ran back to the Wayne manor to not only let Damian know he was going no matter what (because texting was totally out of the question/s) but to also “pester” (according to Damian) Titus one last time.

Saturday came knocking at your door and so ensued your venture to the farmers market. Unfortunately, Damian (and all his good looks) has accumulated a good amount of “fans” being “fuck boy” Billionaire Bruce Wayne’s son. This little inconvenience that was brought up by Damian as a form of getting out of the trip was soon overruled with a simple disguise put together by yours truly (aka you)

Now, you stood at the entrance of the Farmers Market and you couldn’t be more excited. Maybe a little too much just for some produce and goods.

You had assured Alfred you wouldn’t be there too long and so he was currently stationed not too far away.

Damian stood besides you, “so where should we go first.” You inspected Damian carefully with judgement, he was trying too hard to be nonchalant with his hands in his coat and “chill behavior”, you knew damn well he wanted to be here.

Not because of whatever they were selling, he could’ve gotten whatever he wanted, but because you were there with him.

“Well, let’s go over there” your quickly pointed at a kiddy train ride that was in the distance.

“Why is there even a train here? Isn’t this supposed to be a farmers market?-“ Damian’s body was whisked away as you grabbed his hand “who cares let’s go!” You quickly made your way over in hopes of getting in.

Despite interrupting his question you couldn’t help but think in your hind mind, ‘how did Damian even know what to expect from a Farmers market in the first place?’

Unfortunately the little trains conductor was adamant that only children and their guardians were allowed on.

“What? That not fair! It’s just a stupid train, you aren’t even paid enough to care this much” Your protesting was obviously not helping you since you had successfully offended the conductor.

The little scene you had caused was drawing some unwanted attention as parents and kids alike began to gather, watching your dispute.

Damian was just standing there not having a care in the world. Until the “conductor” tried to remove you both by force.

You thought you went full Karen mode before ? You haven’t seen Damian just yet.

My dude began a monologue that insulted the conductor so viciously and intimately that you saw a few parents covering their kids ears in your peripheral vision.

Damian also dropped an iconic “I want to talk to your manager” here and there. You were too busy relishing in the fact that blud got torn to shreds by a teenager that you didn’t notice the security guards for the event approaching you.

Welp time to scram.

-

Luckily you and Damian managed to hide behind a stall that was way too large for comfort.

“Damn you went full Karen mode, just admit it, you care about me”

“Shut up”

In typical Damian behavior he began to walk away to the right in an attempt to avoid topics of conversation that would fluster him.

“I wanna go over here” you abruptly pointed to the left and walked that way, leaving Damian the only choice of walking back towards you in embarrassment.

Luckily for you both the stand that you had hid behind was selling fudge. A wide variety of flavors too, so with your human wallet besides you, you quickly began picking the most appealing flavors out of the bunch.

“Thank you!” You replied as you retrieved your fudge in a cutely designed package.

The fudge in hand was practically calling your name so you ripped it open and began feasting right where you stood.

You pointedly ignored the judgmental stare coming from Damian as you enjoyed your fudge.

He was just jealous.

But then you swallowed a particularly large piece without chewing. It got caught in your throat. You continued to swallow, hoping it just needed assistance in sliding down your through, but to no avail.

Now it was time to panic. You turned to Damian and pointed to your throat hurriedly, practically yelling at him in silence that you couldn’t breathe.

Damian quickly hurled the box of fudge out of your hands (r.i.p fudge) and situated himself behind you.

Before you could even register what was happening Damian began to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on you.

It passed as soon as it came, the fudge piece you previously had lodged in your throat was launched at a nearby pedestrian.

Despite your (very) recent traumatic experience, you were quick to notice the stares from the other customers at the fudge stall and others in the surrounding area.

You might’ve thought that they were staring at you and your dashing looks but common sense soon came back full force and you whipped your head back at Damian.

His cap and sunglasses had presumably fallen off due to the recent occurrence of events. (Aka when you were dying)

As soon as the shock of everyone gathered -not only because you were just choking but also because of Damian Wayne being there- had gone away, everyone began trampling you to get to him.

Luckily he was having none of it and hauled ass. You two skedaddled the fastest you could towards the car and once you both got in you hurriedly asked Alfred to speed off and so he did.

Finally Damian turned to you, “sorry about your fudge” light pink dusted his cheeks, you could tell he thought the sentence alone was ridiculous, but he still said so with sincerity.

“It’s fine” you leaned your head against his shoulder “maybe next time we won’t fight with a conductor over riding a train intended for kids and I won’t choke on fudge.

Damian leaned his head over yours “yea, I highly doubt it.”

How romantic.

———

A/n: my creativity is at its limits, this probably seems rushed and al over the place.