#I thought it would be something way different

[helenanell]

Contempt of Court || Challengers

Art Donaldson X Fem!Reader 

CW: 18+ MDNI. Alcoholism / substance abuse. Suicidal ideation. Mentions of car crash/ injury, infidelity (technically - Art is still married to Tashi, but they’re separated) Angst. Smut. A little toxic.

Wordcount: 10.8K

Notes: No use of y/n. Set after the events of the film. Reader is a Tashi stan (There’s too much Tashi Duncan erasure happening and I won’t stand for it.) 

Summary: Still recovering from an injury that put your tennis career on pause, your publicist has landed you a deal to be an ambassador for Nike. What she doesn’t tell you, is that so is Art Donaldson: the player who bad-mouthed you in a live, post match interview two years ago. You only find out once it’s too late. 

 (This story was inspired by the dynamic between Billy and Daisy in Daisy Jones and The Six. But…make it tennis.)

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

For eight agonising weeks, your wrist has been encased in a cast, but now that it’s finally off, you feel far from relieved.

 As the doctor had sawn into the plaster, producing a cloud of white dust like he was breaking into a bone instead of revealing a healed one, you had actually felt panicked. 

After the car crash, you had spiralled into a pit dug with your own self-pity and pain. And once you’d reached the bottom, you’d staved off the encroaching darkness with alcohol and too many painkillers. 

You’d taken drugs before at parties and drunk until you wiped your own memory, the consequence being waking up with your skull practically splitting open from pain. But there was something profoundly different about becoming intoxicated in the hopes of rendering yourself numb:

 You hated yourself whilst you were doing it, and once the harmful buzz wore off, you hated yourself a little bit more. 

You had become fast friends with shame in the past few months. 

You have been desperate to play again, screaming, crying and practically tearing off your own skin with the need to get back to work- to not let yourself fall behind or your ranking suffer. 

But, amongst the amalgamation of negatives there had been a sort of relief, too. Relief, because the choice had been taken away from you. 

The accident hadn't been your fault and nor could you force your bone to heal faster, so for a brief period of time, you had convinced yourself nothing was your fault. For once, you couldn’t be blamed for your own fall from grace. 

But now your bone had healed and if you didn’t give recovery your all, it would be your fault. If there was no triumphant comeback, it would be on you. 

Another thing to fail at. 

Another thing to lose. 

All of which only added to your bafflement over your publicist’s insistence on coming over this morning, in order to discuss ‘a major opportunity’ that wasn’t related to a competition. 

You had originally tried to worm out of it, but your coach had found out and given you the third degree. 

You’re already tired at the thought of it and you don’t even know what it is yet. You don’t want to think about anything but tennis. You don’t have the energy for it. 

In all honesty…you’re hanging on by a thread.

‘Drinking too much’ is a far too casual phrase for how you’ve been living: it has connotations of casualness- a glaring lack of stakes. For you, the stakes are unbelievably high.

You know you can’t afford to become alcohol dependent because even being a functioning alcoholic isn’t an option for you. The only way to function as an athlete—to maintain your career trajectory and the attain the US Open title—is to be at one hundred percent. 

Mixing your painkillers with straight vodka isn’t one hundred percent: it’s a cry for fucking help. Except you can’t let anyone hear the cry, you need to stifle it. 

It’s bad enough that pictures of you being rolled away from your totalled car in a gurney had been plastered over the internet for weeks after the accident. The alcoholic, pill popping tennis pro was a story that would never go away. 

It would morph into an ugly sort of infamy: you’d been in the exclusive club of American sweethearts and heartthrobs who had been hounded so much by the ‘devoted’, that it had driven them to substance abuse to drown out the noise and fortify against the flashing lights. 

So, no one could know. No one.

Which is why, as your publicist pulls into your driveway, you’re rushing to hide a half full bottle of vodka inside a hideously expensive—and also just hideous—vase that had been given to you as an engagement gift.

Two years ago, when your fiancé–and fellow tennis player–had been caught in 4k, kissing a barely legal actress from a HBO teen drama, you’d almost smashed the vase. But, something about destroying a gift from Serena Williams felt like spitting out the ambrosia a god had fed you from their very own hand.

So, while your ring had been thrown into a ravine (best not to dwell on that.) the vase had remained. 

The doorbell rings much sooner than you’re prepared for. Who knew a five-foot-two woman in heels could move so quickly? 

You run over to the door, chewing down on two pieces of gum you’d hastily shoved into your mouth to cover up the scent of alcohol. When you pull it open, you’re met with the stern face of your Publicist, Rebecca. She’s tiny but terrifying, her sharp features framed by a pitch black bob.

Sometimes, it does feel a bit like you’re talking to Edna Mode, but you’d never dare say that.

“Rebecca, hi!” You’re aware the greeting is too happy, and try not to grimace.

When you step back to allow her to enter, Rebecca frowns at you as she passes.

“Why are you fake smiling?” she questions. “Your cast is off, you should be actually happy.”

 You drop the toothy grin, wincing with embarrassment as you follow her into the kitchen.

“I am happy about that, obviously.” You clear your throat, overly aware of how disingenuous you still seem. “What I’m not exactly overjoyed about, is whatever this ‘opportunity’ is.” 

You watch as Rebecca grabs bottle of water from the fridge and then pulls out a stool to sit at the kitchen island. You follow suit, dropping down beside her.

“Well, you should be. I practically had to sell my soul to get them to pick you.”

You level her with an unimpressed look. “Wow, Rebecca, way to raise me up from rock bottom.”

She waves you away. “Oh, please! You hate when I coddle you.”

You huff, dropping your chin into hand and propping your elbow on the counter. “Okay, out with it then. What is it?” 

Rebecca’s cheeks split with a blinding grin. “Nike.” She declares gleefully. 

“Nike.” 

Her smile dampens, disappointed you haven’t burst into happy tears. “Yes, Nike. You know…Just Do It.”

“Yes, I do. I’d just prefer not, you know…do it.”

Your publicist looks just about ready to slap you. “You’re kidding. It’s Nike.”

“Oh, is it? You haven’t mentioned that.”

Rebecca’s frown becomes a scowl and you think about ducking when she angrily snatches up her water bottle. But she doesn’t throw it, just waves it around as she begins to rant at you: 

“Do you know how hard it was to get this?! They wanted Naomi Osaka but I convinced them to go for you instead. And christ knows they were hesitant after the US Open meltdown-”

“We agreed not to refer to it as a meltdown.” You cut in. “My therapist says it has negative connotations that, ‘make me feel a harmful degree of shame.’”

Rebecca scoffs. “You went to one session with that therapist and then fired her because you didn’t like that she drew you a diagram.”

“It was condescending: I’m not five, I don’t need visual aids.”

“Okay, just shut up!” Rebecca barks, smoothing down her still immaculate hair and taking a deep breath. “This isn’t actually up for discussion. You’re doing it.”

“I’m not doing it.”

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Two Weeks Later… )

‘Just Do It.’ 

It’s the first thing you see when you walk into the Nike office for the photoshoot. 

The poster from a past campaign with Andy Murray has been blown up to ridiculous proportions and framed, hanging in on the first wall that greets anyone who enters.

“If they make mine that big I won’t be able to look at it. I’ll actually vomit. ” 

When Rebecca–who is the epitome of a chatterbox–remains silent, you turn you head to look down at her. She’s already peering up at you, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Your eyes narrow with suspicion. “What have you done?”

Rebecca lets out a laugh laced with unadulterated fear. “Okay…so, any minute now you’re going to be super fucking pissed at me and you have every right to be, but remember that as you’ve already signed the contract, you don’t have a right to walk out of here.”

You stare her down, knowing it doesn’t take much intimidation for her to crack. 

You don’t end up needing her to blabber, however, because not even five seconds later, the door you’d just come through swings open and a lone figure enters.

 As you turn, you feel your publicist actually take a step away from you.

“Rebecca, I’m going to kill you.” 

You’re not looking at her as you spit out the threat, your eyes are already boring into the man who’s noted your presence and is lingering just beyond the doorway. 

Your history with Art Donaldson is far from extensive. In fact, while the trajectory of your careers have practically run parallel, the two of you have spoken maybe twice. 

But then, almost two years ago, the U.S Open had happened. 

Still dealing with the fall out of your fiance’s cheating scandal, you’d been in potentially the worst mental space of your life. And yet, you had still made it to the final.

 But, during the match…well you’d sort of lost your shit. And then you’d just lost. It had been dramatic and mortifying. 

Then, with the dust not even close to settling, things had gotten even worse. 

Having just clinched the men’s singles trophy for himself, Art Donaldson had sat down for his live post-match interview and one of the first questions he’d been asked, was about your ‘comportment’ during the final. 

You would never forget his answer: 

'Well, obviously it’s a massive disappointment. In so many ways the match between those two women today was legendary. But it always stings when you see someone get in their own way. Anger like that doesn’t belong on the court: it’s infantile and disrespectful to staff and to the fans. It threatens to overshadow what was otherwise a phenomenal game of tennis for both of them.'

When he had then been pressed for his thoughts on what should be done in regards to sanctions, Art had simply said: ‘I think whatever she’s feeling that made her act that way, is probably punishment enough.’

In a few minutes, Art had made you a subject of scorn as well as unwanted sympathy.  He’d made you sound simultaneously contemptible and pitiable. 

He was right, but he hadn’t needed to sound so sanctimonious when he’d said it. And telling the world your own mental anguish was probably torment enough, was just salt in the wound.

In your own defence, you had gone into the final right off the back of the announcement that your ex-fiancé’s new girlfriend was pregnant. And the dates had made it blindingly clear, that conception had happened whilst you were still with him.

 You’d never felt so worthless or dehumanised. And then, after you’d practically killed yourself playing the match of your life, only to lose, Art fucking Donaldson had felt the need to call out your behaviour. 

‘Anger like that doesn’t belong on the court.’ 

Anger ‘like that’ wasn’t something you’d brought to the competition in your overhead luggage, it was a parasite that had been poisoning your blood.

You’d thought that sort of self-cannibalising rage was in your past, bust as Art starts walking over to you, it rears its ugly head once more.

And he has the gall to smile at you. It’s an amicable, almost anticipatory smile. 

You barely even register when Rebecca ducks away, muttering something about finding the photographer. 

Art calls out your name as he stops before you, the corners of his eyes creasing as his smile intensifies. “It’s good to see you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.” You intone harshly.

Art’s smile doesn’t drop, it just becomes tighter, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Ah- so you are still upset about what I said at the Open.” 

You glare at him, forcing yourself to stop gritting your teeth lest they shatter. “What could possibly make you think that I wouldn't be?”

Art laughs softly, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Well, because your coach and your publicist both assured me that you weren’t.”

Those fucking traitors. 

It looks like you’ll be going into tomorrow with only your nutritionist and your physio left on your team.

“They lied.” You reply sharply. 

Art tilts his head, his gaze becoming brazen in the way it assesses your face. “Clearly.”

“Well, obviously this isn’t happening.” You gesture between the two of you. “I’m not doing a photoshoot, let alone an entire campaign, with you.”

“I don’t see why it can’t go ahead.” Art declares casually, his lips tugging upward as he observes your indignation. 

You take a step back, not trusting yourself not to lunge for him.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have little regard for your opinion then, isn’t it?”

Art's brows draw together, some irritation beginning to pollute his easy going demeanour. “You do care.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do care about my opinion, because f you didn’t, you wouldn’t still be this pissed over something I said years ago. 

“Pissed?” You almost choke on the word. “You made me sound pathetic. Weak. You insulted my entire career!”

“I seem to recall saying that your match was ‘legendary.’ Phenomenal, is another word I used.”

If there wasn’t so much anger writhing in your gut, you might have rubbed it in his face that for something he’s outwardly dismissing, he seems to remember what he said about you very well.

You step up to him, closing the distance in two strides.

“‘Whatever she’s feeling that made her act that way, is probably punishment enough.’ You said that about me in front of peers and fans in a live interview that was watched by thousands!”

“You’re telling me you don’t think you were out of line?” Art challenges, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning in. 

You know he’s not wrong: it hadn’t been your finest hour. In fact, the morning after, with your behaviour laid bare in the cold light and already being picked over by commentators and tabloids, you had been able to acknowledge it may very well have been one of the worst hours you would ever have. 

But you’d rather die than acknowledge that to Art.

“Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you!” You hit back disparagingly.

Art’s fingers dig into his arms. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re a hypocrite, Art. I watched your match against Patrick Zweig at the…what was it- Phil’s Tire Town Challenger? Someone recorded it from the stands. Tell me, what emotion were you bringing to the court when you yelled ‘fuck you’ at him across the net?” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“I’m not proposing a thesis, Art. This isn’t up for debate. I’m just telling you what I saw. And it seems to me, that you have some fucking anger issues of your own, so quit chewing me out over mine.”

“Chewing you out–” He splutters, his cheeks flushing with outrage. “Wow, you really do have a victim complex, huh?” 

“Fuck you!” You seethe.

Your exclamation doesn’t dissuade Art, instead he gathers momentum: 

“You’re acting like I should fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness over an entirely reasonable answer I gave to a question about your piss-poor behaviour. But I didn’t make you launch your racket across the court or cuss out the line judge. You’re not a tragic woman, or some wronged heroine, you’re a grown woman throwing a tantrum because I wasn’t very nice about her in an interview, two goddamn years ago!” 

“Well, I’m a bitch and you’re a hypocrite, looks like neither of us should be tennis’ poster child.” You snap, pushing past him and heading for the door. 

There was absolutely no chance you were doing this photoshoot. Nike could give Naomi Osaka another call. 

Just as you’ve got past him, Art is following you, snagging your wrist with his hand. “Hey! I didn’t call you a bitch.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. Badmouthing people in public forums is your move.” 

You yank yourself out of his hold and with his eyes burning into the back of your head, you leave Art Donaldson alone in the lobby. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Three Weeks Later… )

In the intervening weeks since your confrontation with Art, you have discovered just how airtight employment contracts can be. 

Nike should really give their lawyers a raise, because you have been assured that there is more chance of you sprouting wings, than being able to get out of the ad campaign. 

You’d been forced back to the studio a week later with your tail between your legs, but while you’d felt genuinely apologetic over the inconvenience caused to Nike’s team, your fury at Art had only compounded. 

Thankfully, the feeling had been mutual and the two of you had passed the entire shoot in utter silence. Neither of you had offered up so much as a hello or goodbye to the other, and while it had clearly been painfully awkward for everyone around you, it had worked out quite well. 

Unfortunately, you and Art had been called back for a day of what they were calling ‘action shots.’

Which is why you’re currently at a country club, dressed in all of Nike’s new gear, being forced to actually play tennis against Art. 

If it was anyone else, you would already have drawn attention to the fact that your wrist is in excruciating pain, but you refuse to falter in front of him. 

Besides, as much as you’re loathe to admit it, playing against Art is exhilarating. 

The team have just called for a break and somehow, despite the innumerable people that have been buzzing around you for the entire day, you and Art suddenly find yourselves alone at the side of the court. 

You’ve done well at remaining civil with each other, but that’s only because you only said ‘hello’ and ‘ready’ before you’d started playing.

Unfortunately for you, Art seems to be in the mood to antagonise.

“I don’t get why this is making you so miserable.” Art says, dropping down onto the bench beside you with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

You hold up the can in your hand, fingers biting into the condensation slick metal. 

“I specifically asked for Tangerine La Croix and they’ve given me Pure.” You mock. You couldn't care less about what you’re drinking.

“Funny.” Art deadpans. 

“And here was me thinking you’d jump at the chance to call me a diva.” You answer, donning a smirk of your own.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Some genuine anger colours Art’s tone and it only feeds the fires of your own.

“What?” 

Art grabs the can from your hand and maintains eye contact as he steals as a sip.

“You refuse to let go of a few critical, but very valid sentences I said about you in that interview and you’ve used them to construct a narrative about my dislike for you. I don’t dislike you.”

“Oh, you don’t? That’s good, because this amicable exchange is really making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” 

Art groans, slumping back on the bench. He manspreads so wide that his knee knocks into yours. 

“Can you not just enjoy yourself? It’s a beautiful day and we’re being paid to do what we’re great at.”

You wrinkle your nose and try to snatch back the can, but Art tightens his grip and the metal crumples as you both tighten your hold. 

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets off on having their face on a billboard.” You sneer, almost falling back when Art suddenly lets go of the can.

It’s practically empty and completely deformed, so you slam it down onto the empty space beside you.

“How do you know that I do?”

“What?”

“How do you know that I get off on it?” He repeats glibly.

“Because, you’ve clearly wanted to retire for years and now that you have, you can monopolise on the popularity that your wife built up for you and live off clothing lines and ads for the rest of your life.”

“Being great at tennis built up my popularity.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you actually believe that, Art? So many phenomenal players go widely unknown for their entire careers. You are only The Art Donaldson instead of just plain old Art, because Tashi Duncan made you a brand. She’s responsible for your legacy.”

“She didn’t make me.”

“Maybe not, but she did mould you into what you are. You would have been just another generic Stanford whiteboy if she hadn’t decided to give you fucking form.”

“You talk about her like she’s God.” 

“Are you telling me that’s not what it feels like when her attention is solely on you?” You challenge, but you don’t wait for an answer. “You know, I actually played her quite a lot when we were teenagers– we always ended up being us against each other in finals– and even then…it was like trying to play against an elemental force. Every time, without fail, there was a tiny part of me that just wanted to fall to my fucking knees in front of her. But I never did, instead it made my game better. She made my game better. Tashi put all she had into you after her injury, the least you could do is acknowledge what she’s done for you.

“You don’t have to tell me what I owe my wife.”

You scoff, rising to your feet. “I’m telling you what you owe your coach.” 

You don’t actually know where you’re going as you walk away, only that you need it to be far from him.

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Two Months Later… )

At the launch event for Nike’s new line, you’re standing in front of the massive poster that’s at the forefront of the campaign and swallowing down bile. 

It’s a great picture, you’ll give them that: Your feet are practically lifting off the ground as you throw up the ball for a serve, your expression is contorted with a ruinous passion that portends some sort of violence. And across the net, there’s Art: he’s dropped into a crouch, ready to pounce once you send the ball his way. In the face of your fury, his anticipation comes fitted out with his signature smirk. 

It’s not just a great photo, it’s phenomenal.

 You want to tear it off the wall. 

You’re on the verge of asking anyone if they have a pen so you can scribble over Art’s face, when the man himself appears beside you. In your peripheral vision you catch a glimpse of his sleek, all black suit, but you don’t turn to look at him. 

“I’m not sure you’d get away with defacing it in front of so many people.” 

Trying to suppress your eye roll would be a fruitless endeavour, so you turn to face Art, forcing him to bear witness to your indignation. 

“You should know by now that I have little regard for decorum. You certainly like commenting on my lack of it.”

“I thought you’d still be hung up on that.” 

“Yeah, well, some of us have follow through.” You give him a venomous smile. “How is retirement treating you?”

“Ah, I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“You see retirement is quitting. So, you’ll force yourself to continue well past the point you should, your game will get shittier and shittier, so by the time you’re forced to quit, people will be pitying you instead of remembering how phenomenal you were.”

There’s a compliment in there, but you’re not feeling generous of spirit enough to pluck it out of the insult. 

“I know when to stop, Art. It’s just not now.” You answer coldly.

“Okay, when? Like- give me your timeline. You must have thought about it.”

“Not yet.”

This answer seems to really frustrate him and he just stares at you, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he grips his champagne flute. 

“Do you think I didn’t notice how much your wrist was killing you when we played each other? Are you really going to wreck your body out of stubbornness?”

“You know, Art, what you did wasn’t bowing out at the perfect time, it was cowardice. You skipped right to the curtain call when you still had a last act left to perform. You never got that US Open trophy, did you?” 

Art sighs, his gaze moving back to the photo of the two of you. "Yeah well, something tells me you won't either. Have a good night."

Then he's backing away, his stare lingering on you even as he lets the crowd reabsorb him. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( One Month Later… )

Had Tashi Duncan not been one of the people in your life that you most respected and admired, you wouldn’t even have considered attending the fundraising gala for her and Art’s foundation.  

But you were, quite frankly, obsessed with her, so of course you had come.

 Sitting in an uncomfortably tight dress at a table of people you don’t know and with a fair amount of alcohol circulating through your system, is quite possibly the most painstaking thing you’ve ever gone through.

Apart from the car crash. That had been pretty bad. 

But you’re adamant you won’t think about the car crash tonight, or the fact that, somehow, your wrist seems to be getting worse; devolving to a state more dire than when the cast had first come off. 

The meal—which you hadn’t been able to stomach—had come and gone and now the auction is beginning. Tashi is up on the stage, dazzling in the way that only she can and Art is standing at the bottom of the set of stairs that lead up to the platform.

Unfortunately, your table is very close to the front and you’re positioned right in his eyeline. 

Art keeps stealing glances at you with an emotion you can’t place. You had tried to switch seats with the man across from you, but the asshole turned out to be a real stickler for assigned seating. 

If only to distract yourself, you whip out your phone, resting it in your lap beneath the table.

The moment you open up Instagram, your heart drops into your stomach. 

You thought you had expunged any remnants of your ex from your life, but it seems you’ve missed a mutual friend on Instagram, one who has just reposted his engagement announcement with his girlfriend and mother of his now one year old daughter. 

That bastard has broken your heart and wrecked your head, but while your life just keeps getting worse, the universe has seen fit to bless him with everything he’s ever wanted. 

The auction is already in full swing when you rise clumsily from your seat and weave through the tables, heading for the closest exit. 

It’s only as you push open the door and begin to sway, that you realise you’re actually quite tipsy. You might have drunk a little too much before you’d left the house. 

It’s freezing outside, but you can’t face going back for your coat, so, unsteady on your feet, you flee into the extensive gardens that surround the estate that’s acting as the gala’s venue. 

You walk well past the point where the lawn lighting disappears and clamber over a fence that has ‘restricted area’ prominently posted in front of it.

You don’t know where you’re going, but as you stagger down the hill, your sadness is alleviated very slightly by the sight of a massive pond that you’re sure is beckoning to you. 

You kick off your heels and drop down onto the bank, quick to put your feet into the water. Once you’re settled, you retrieve your hip flask from your clutch and begin to guzzle vodka in earnest.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

You turn and you find an incensed Art striding towards you. You’re more than a little delighted by the sight of mud splattered over the polished surface of his shoes. 

“I was having some time to myself.”

“You needed to walk all the way down here to get it?”

You laugh caustically, gesturing at him. “Well…no. Obviously I should have walked even further away.”

Art huffs, entirely unimpressed. He takes a few steps further down the bank and holds out a hand beckoning you over.

“Come on, you need to come back inside.”

“Why is that?”

“Because, you offered tennis lessons with yourself as an auction item and you’re up soon. You need to be on stage.”

Ah. You’d forgotten about that. 

“Why do I need to be seen? It’s not like they’re buying me.”

“You still can’t stay in there. Get out.”

“I’m not in it, Art. I’m just dangling my feet in the water.”

“Well, you can’t ‘dangle’ your feet in there, it’s a pond not a swimming pool.” 

“I can’t?” You feign a bafflement as you look at your feet, submerged in the murky water. “I sort of already am?”

Art moves even closer but falters, his bright eyes becoming an invading force: his gaze takes hold of your edges and peels them back.

He can see inside.

“What’s wrong?” He probes, the harsher edges of his previous words now nowhere to be found.

“At the moment, it’s you.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not actually, but I’m getting there.” 

Art’s eyes flick to the metal object glinting in your hand. “Is that a hip flask?” 

“What a keen eye you have.” You mutter sardonically.

“Okay, I'm serious now, get out.”

“Oh, he’s being serious!” You mock, rising to your feet.

 But you don’t move away from the pond. Instead, you turn and start walking backwards into the water you wobble when your bare feet sink into the mud, icy liquid seeping into the thin fabric of your silk dress.

Art lunges forward, closing the distance until he’s standing at the edge of the water. His hand darts out and he grabs your forearm. 

“You’re too close to drunk to be near a body of water, let alone in one. You’ll drown yourself.” 

Art plucks the hip flask from your fingers with his free hand and tosses it into the grass behind him, all without taking his eyes off you. 

Then he seems to actually register where his hand is. He’s still gazing into your eyes as his thumb brushes over the scar above your wrist. 

“Compound fracture.” You say on a bitter breath. “The bone went right through. Fucking drunk driver. Funny that, isn’t it? He crashed into me, fucked my career probably permanently and then I became a drunk to cope.”

Some of the hardness in Art’s expression melts away, but it pools into the bags beneath his eyes and the shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look almost distraught. Once you realise it’s sadness--no, pity--for you, you wrench your wrist out of his grasp and wade further back into the pond. 

You gasp, shocked as the frigid water wraps around your legs in an eager embrace. It’s like it’s clinging on, wanting to keep you forever. 

You find the thought of it quite peaceful.

You think on Art’s words from months ago: he’s right, about you being too stubborn to know when to stop. You won’t retire until you’re physically falling apart.

 But what if you just sink down into the water right now? You’d disappear and the memories would be of a great player gone too soon.

God, you didn’t realise you had such a large ego that you’d consider letting yourself drown just to save face.

Art is beyond unimpressed now. He’s furious. 

“Get out.” You just smile at him, stepping further back. The water reaches your navel and you let your fingertips skim over the water. “I’m not kidding, get the fuck out. Now.”

“Will you just back off!” You erupt. “We’ve done the campaign, we’re not friends, there’s no reason for us to be involved.” 

“None of that gives me a reason to leave you alone out here.”

“Why not?!” You protest desperately. “It’s not the ocean, I can’t be swept out to sea!”

“Get out of the water.”

“No.” 

“Get out.” 

“Get fucked.” You hit back, letting yourself sink back into the water. 

As you move to float on your back, another frantic laugh bubbles up as you're enveloped by its icy grip. Your dress becomes heavier, a five thousand dollar weight around your body, urging you to sink lower.

You turn your head to the side so that you can see the surface of the water:

This far out of the city, the stars are no longer choked by smog and so are able to tear through the darkness. The water perfectly mirrors the sky, so much so that it’s like you’re swimming in the cosmos. If you open your mouth, you could take some of it into yourself. 

You had struggled to get out of bed this morning, but now, in the quiet night, you have the chance to swallow a thousand stars–

Impudent splashing disrupts your peace. 

Your head shoots up, water running in eager rivulets off your hair as you watch wide eyed, as Art drops into the water. His jacket and shoes have been discarded on the edge of the bank. 

“What are you doing?”  

Art doesn’t answer, instead he drives through the water towards you, his strides producing ripples that disturb the reflected constellations. Shooting stars. 

You’re not very far out, so just as Art closes in on you, you plant your feet on the muddy bottom of the pond and stand up.

The fabric of your dress is dark and slick against your body like an oil spill. The breeze blows a tentative breath against you, causing your skin to pebble and your nipples to harden.

Art reaches for you but your hand flies out and you swat him away.

You push yourself further out, giggling at his expression as the water comes up to your chin. 

Then Art’s diving after you, the white material of his shirt submerged in the water. 

“Art, this is a pond, not a swimming pool.” You tease, amusement blooming.

In fact, you’re relishing the sight of his arms pushing through the water so much, that you forget to make another escape attempt. 

Before you know it, Art is right up in front of you, his breath coasting over your face as he wraps an arm around your middle beneath the water. 

You drive your feet into the mud, your smile growing as he looks exasperatedly up at sky. His fingers press into your side.

“This is so beyond funny.” He grouses, trying and failing to tug you closer.

Seeing as you’re not actually drunk, you’re not sure what comes over you, but you’re seized by a giddy, childlike urge. 

You decide to give into it.

Art’s eyes widen slightly as you rush forward, pressing your chest right up against his. Then, you place one hand on each of his shoulders and push.

There’s a brief moment, where your face rises above Art and he gazes up at you, droplets of water rolling off your face and onto him. He’s looking at you in the same way you had been gazing up at the stars. Perhaps you’ve become one of them. Wouldn’t that be something?

Art realises too late what you’re going to do. 

“Don’t you dare–”

You push all of your weight onto his shoulders and dunk him into the pond. His head goes under, short blonde locks floating up in the water.

You immediately let him go and when he comes up, spluttering for air, the hand not on your waist winds around the back of your neck, threading into the hair at the nape of your neck. He pulls you flush against him again.

When he speaks, it is a whisper you feel against your cheek. “You’re such an asshole.” 

Your hands fall onto his waist beneath the water. “I know.” 

You shriek as Art tips you back, his hand still cradling the back of your neck as he dunks your head into the water in retaliation. It feels like a baptism. 

When you come back up, he's chuckling as you gasp for air. 

“I had to do that.” Art defends.

 He notices you scrambling to push soaked strands of hair out of your eyes and proceeds to help you, his hand brushing over your cheeks and forehead before returning your sight to you. 

“I feel like you didn’t have to.” You splutter, fighting back a laugh of your own. 

You’re suddenly glad for his grip on you- you’re far too flustered to stand firmly on your own two feet. 

Art’s cheek’s dimple as he smiles, shaking his head at you. Your breath hitches. 

When he’s unencumbered by negative emotion…Art shines. 

He leans in again, his lips grazing the shell of your ear: 

“Don’t start something you’re not prepared to finish, sweetheart.” Your breathing becomes even more laboured as he draws away, his nose briefly dragging against your cheek. “Now…get out of the goddamn pond.” 

And then he’s pulling away, leaving you gaping after him as he moves back towards the bank.

 His touch is an absence you really wish didn’t feel so profound 

“Spoilsport.” You grumble. But you’re already moving after him. 

The alcohol you did have in you has disappeared; shocked out of your system by the frigid water and the feel of Art’s hands.

 You wade back towards the bank, your hip flask is nestled in the grass and glinting seductively in the moonlight. 

With Art’s back to you, you let yourself stare as he drags himself out of the water. His shirt is stuck to his body and entirely see through, settling into the ridges of his muscled chest. The moon’s light shines through the fabric hanging from his sleeves, making it look like the membrane of wings.

As Art kneels on the grass, you blink rapidly as if he’s a vision you can dispel from your sight. 

You can acknowledge he’s attractive- you’re not blind– but you can’t abide the yearning arising within you. You don’t have room for that in your life, for anyone, but especially not for him. 

You finally reach the edge of the bank and then Art is kneeling at the edge, holding a hand out for you to take.

You consider him for a moment and process the newfound ease on his face. He seems almost serene. 

You fight off a shiver that you blame on the cold and ignore his outstretched hand, pulling yourself out of the water unaided. 

“Really?” Art bites out irritatedly, watching as you wander over to your hip flask and sit down right beside it. You take it into your hand and unscrew the cap. 

When you bring it to your lips you look right into his eyes. “Really.” 

You throw your head back, the path the vodka burns down your throat is a welcome discomfort. You had felt far too peace just now, floating in a sea of stars with Art. 

But those weren’t stars, just a reflection of them. It was a trick. Nothing that could ever be real. 

When you drop the now empty flask into your lap, there are tears in your eyes. 

When was the last time you’d felt even close to the happiness you’d found in that water? 

It wasn’t real.

A traitorous tear is already rolling down your cheek as you drop your eyes to your hands. 

“Hey.” Art says softly. He kneels down beside you, one hand on your soaked back as the other plucks the flask out your lap. “What’s wrong?”

You make a noise that’s half sob, half laugh. “I already answered that question.” 

“Yeah, except I know you’re full of shit.” When you look up at him, Art’s frown becomes something gentler. “I know I’m not your problem.” 

You scoff, shoving his chest. He sways backwards, but drops down onto his knees, planting himself on the ground beside you. His hand is still on your back.

“Yes, you are actually.” You answer nastily. “You really are.”

“Just tell me.” Art whispers, ducking his head into your field of vision so you’re forced to look at him. His free hand settles on your cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong because this…is sort of scary.”

You lift your hands and clasp his cheeks, digging your fingers in. You’re overcome by a violent impulse to tear into his skin. 

It would be far easier to draw blood than confront how you’re beginning to feel about him. 

“Aww.” You croon. “Did I scare the poor little baby?” 

“Stop it.” He scolds. His hands move to grasp your wrists but he doesn't pull you away, not even as you press your nails further in.

But you won’t stop- can’t stop. Your feelings have become spiteful and unruly, running away from you at a pace which you can’t hope to match.

You can’t take the strain. And because Art is the contributor to that is closest to you, it’s him you’re going to lash out at.

“No, really, I didn’t think you’d be such a pussy.” You forge on, spewing venom. “I scared you by getting in a pond? Grow the fuck up, Art.”

But Art doesn’t rise to it. His jaw doesn’t clench and his grip on you doesn’t tighten. 

“This isn’t okay.” He says, tentative but assured. “You’re not okay.” 

“No, I'm not!” You snap wrenching your wrists free. “But it’s got absolutely nothing to do with you.”

You try to rise to your feet, but Art doesn’t let you. He moves so he’s kneeling either side of you, his legs pressing into your thighs as his hands fall onto your shoulders. You can feel in the way his fingers press into you that he’s fighting the urge to shake sense into you. 

You look up at him, slightly startled by his forcefulness. His back is facing the moon now and his drenched body is limned in silver. 

Before you can berate yourself for even thinking about it, you’re winding your hand around his tie and dragging him down, smashing your lips against his. 

You shouldn't be doing this, a large part of you doesn’t want to, but it feels like the only way to purge yourself of him. And what kills a bacteria faster than blazing heat?

Art lets out a warning groan, but your teeth nipping his bottom lip is all it takes to have him leaning in. Even your kiss feels like a fight, battling each other for control, pressing with bruising force.

Art crowds over you, guiding your back against the grass.

You let yourself fall. 

As your back presses into the earth, one of his hands settles on the side of your neck as he drags the other up your leg. When he peels up the sodden material of your dress, his hand exploring your thigh, the cold air bites tauntingly against your rapidly heating skin. 

Your hard nipples brush against his soaked t-shirt and the feeling is so tantalising, that you find your back arching, pressing yourself into him and chasing the sensation.

When you let out a moan into his mouth, Art draws back as if some unseen hand has pulled on him.

He’s still agonisingly close, his lips a hair's breadth away as he gazes down at you through heavy eyelids, water droplets running down his face from his hair. His breathing is ragged.

 Art’s eyes close and with his sight lost to him, his lips drift closer to you again and his teeth nip at your chin. After placing a ghost of kiss over where he’s bitten, he takes a deep breath.

Then his eyes open, and his expression is blank. It makes you feel sick.

You’re burning up with want, but you can already see the realisation of your transgression settling into the very bones of Art. He’s about to spurn you, disdain no doubt working its way to the surface. So you have to get there first. 

“Poor, sensitive Art, scared by a kiss.” You goad. The words are forced out and they feel malformed on your tongue. “Don’t worry your little head over it, it doesn’t mean anything.” 

Art drops his eyes from you, shaking his hand as he pushes himself off up. 

“Nice try, but I know what you’re doing.”  

He mumbles it and doesn't give you a chance to acknowledge it befores he’s on his feet and walking away. 

Tears prick insistently at the back of your eyes but you force them back, pressing the heels of your thumbs into them until it hurts. 

You sit up, feeling leaves and blades of grass sticking to your exposed skin.

You feel the air shift behind you, and are startled when you peer over your shoulder and find Art standing at your back. He has his shoes back on and is gripping his dry jacket far too tightly. 

You find your voice, but it’s weak: “What am I doing Art?” 

He doesn’t meet your eye, instead he opens up the jacket in his hands and settles it over your shoulders. You sit there, stunned as he tugs it around your body. Then he leans down and over your shoulders, his breath on the side of your face as he deftly buttons the jacket up. 

Art encloses you in the dry garment that carries the scent of him. 

“You’re doing the same thing as me.” He says quietly. It sounds almost painful for him to talk. “Running away. I guess we’re both cowards.”

And then he’s gone, marching back up the bank without another word.

You’re left sitting there, wrapped in his jacket and staring out at the pond. 

Not the night sky. 

Just a pond. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Three Months Later… )

After your cast had first come off, Wimbledon had felt like an intimidating but still far off thing; a dark shape on the horizon, but one you had to squint to see. But then it moved closer, barreling towards you like a bat out of hell. 

You’ve made great progress in your recovery, you really have…but all your extensive physiotherapy hasn’t been able to heal the nerve-damage you’d turned out to have- at least not in a timespan that’s workable for a professional athlete. 

You’re done. Tennis career over.

And your worst fear has come true: it hadn’t been your choice. Injury has forced you out and the public discourse is rife with commiseration and useless, positive platitudes. 

Art has been proved right. Everything would be so much better had you known when to quit. You had preferred ridicule to this. 

But until you’d come to Wimbledon, it hadn’t really sunk in yet: you hadn’t had the moment of finality. 

What closure has ended up feeling like, is the final nail in your coffin.

As you had watched the first matches of Wimbledon from the stands, Rebecca glancing at you constantly–presumably to check you weren’t about to burst into tears–you had felt as though you were being buried: each serve and volley another hand tossing dirt on top of the coffin, sealing you beneath the ground for good. 

At least one part of your day has been successful. You have completed the challenge you’d set for yourself that morning, which was to not drink any alcohol until the evening.

 It has been excruciating.

Evidence of your victory lays in your trembling hands as you fit your keycard into the door of your hotel room. You’re desperate for what you know sits waiting for you on the other side. 

But then, just as the lock mechanism chirps to let you know you’ve been granted entry, someone calls your name.

Your keycard is left in the door as your fingers fall away from the handle and you turn to face Art. He’s stopped himself a safe distance from you and is gazing at you with what looks like…relief? 

Of course you knew he was at Wimbledon–you’d narrowly avoided crossing paths with him a number of times already today–but to hear his voice and having his probing stare directed solely on you, is as debilitating as you remember. 

You haven’t seen each other, or even spoken, since the night by–or rather in–the pond. 

The only place the two of you are still together in any capacity, is on the Nike billboards that are still occupying space throughout the world.

And as if Art’s thoughts align with your own, he says: 

“You pull an impressive disappearing act.” He steps closer.

“That suggests you went looking for me.” You counter, pleased with how detached you sound. “We both know you didn’t.” 

“No. I didn’t.” Art replies frankly. 

“So I didn’t disappear, did I? You just couldn’t see me.”

Art moves towards you some more, stopping an arms length away. 

“It felt the same.” He utters lowly. “You were gone.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “So were you.” 

Then you press your back into the door, fingers seeking out the handle, shaking now for a reason other than alcohol withdrawal. 

You really don’t know if you’re running away or urging him on, but when you push open the door and duck inside, you do know that you’re not angry when he follows. 

You put your back to the hallway door, expecting Art to move past you and head into the suite, but he doesn’t. At least not right away. Instead, he stops right in front of you, looking down at you as the door swings shut. 

You would barely have to lift your hand and you’d be touching him.

You hate that he looks so good. He’s in simple navy dress pants, a white shirt sitting snugly on his chest, the top few buttons undone. 

The two of you stand like that for a minute or so, and just as you realise that your breaths have practically synchronised, Art is moving away from you and wandering inside. 

It’s only then, as he ventures deeper, that you remember what you’ve been so eager to get back into the room for. You curse yourself, letting your head fall back against the wall behind you.

Even if he hadn’t already seen them, it would be too late for you to hide the line of alcohol minis that you’d gathered from the bar cart. 

You’d set them out earlier, the process almost meditative. It had been a promise to yourself: get through the day without drinking and you can have all of these once you’re alone.

But now they’re standing out in the open, displayed on the nearby desk like pieces knocked off a board in a game that you’ve been playing against yourself. 

You watch helplessly as Art walks right over to them, his hands in his pockets. Your face flushes with shame.

Art cranes his neck back to look at you. You’re still pressed against the wall, afraid that if you take one step closer, you won’t be able to stop yourself from taking ten more. And you don’t want to be close to him when his face shifts into pity or revilement. 

“You planning on drinking all of these?” Art asks, turning back to the bottles as if he knows his gaze is steadily undoing you and wants to grant a reprieve.

Eased slightly by the remarkable placidity of his tone, you’re able to answer calmly. But you still don’t move. 

“That was the plan.” 

Art lets out a non-committal hum. “Why?” 

You laugh awkwardly, wringing your hands together. “I don’t know, why does anyone drink?” 

“I don’t care about anyone, I'm asking about you.” His voice is firm, but the foundation of it is something less solid. His words shake on the way out. 

You’re overcome with the urge to be honest. It’s actually a lot easier when he’s not looking at you. 

“I drink because at some point in my life, every tiny thing became really difficult- like, embarrassingly difficult, to the point where I feel like a child again. And it turns out that ineptitude is easier to bear when you feel like you’ve imposed it on yourself. I drink because it makes me feel helpless…but, helpless by choice.”

The confession hangs suspended in the air, a horrifying, complicated marvel- like a beautiful butterfly now dead and pinned by its wings to a board. 

Art speaks into the silence, his back still turned to you. “Do you want to forget? Is that part of it?” 

“Forget what?” You’re struggling for breath now, his presence drawing all of the oxygen from the room.

He half-turns his head, blue eyes settling over you once more. “All of it.”

“There’s not enough alcohol in the world for that.” You say morosely.

You have learnt that getting drunk doesn’t rid you of all the thoughts that torment you in sobriety, it just pushes them further to the back. Even if you drink so much you can barely walk, the thoughts remain, banging on the barrier and demanding to be let back in. 

Art doesn’t respond to that. He turns back to the little bottles and you watch as he reaches out a hand and knocks over the one closest to him. He pushes it forward, sending them all toppling one after the other like dominos. His eyes are set on them as they roll around on the table, a couple falling onto the plush carpet. And your eyes are set on him. 

Then, he finally turns to properly face you, knocking the fallen bottles with his feet as he leans back against the table and crosses his arms against his chest. 

He’s waiting, you realise. Waiting for you to speak. Waiting for you to make the first move. Wanting you to come to him. 

You push off the wall and start walking towards him. “Why did you follow me in here, Art?”

He sighs, the corner of his lip pulling up with a melancholy smile. “Because you make me feel helpless.” 

That almost stops you in your tracks, but you recover quickly, barely a footstep faltering as you advance on him. Your heartbeat is a warning drum in your ears.

Once you reach him, Art widens his legs, allowing you to step between them.

As you settle your hands on his thighs, his duck beneath your dress and come to rest on the bare flesh of the back of your legs. He draws you closer, making you fingers dig into his trousers to steady yourself. 

You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut as he leans forward, brushing his lips against your exposed sternum. 

You’re still flushed and sweating from the uncharacteristically blazing English sun and you shudder as Art’s tongue darts out lapping at the moisture there. 

You rock forward, placing your chin on the top of his head, inadvertently pressing his mouth further into your skin. His lapping tongue turns into kisses, kisses that travel down onto the swell of your breasts and into the valley between them.

Even when he reaches the fabric of your dress, he doesnt let it stop him: Art’s lips close around your clothed nipple, wetting the thin fabric with his saliva. You let out a breathy moan into his hair as he moves onto the next one. 

As Art works his mouth against you, you push your hands higher, letting your fingers brush the bulge in his pants before they’re settling on his belt buckle. 

He says your name, each movement of his lips searing into your flesh. 

“Do I make you feel helpless?” He asks, his hands moving up to curl in the sides of your underwear. 

“No, Art. You don’t.”

As you undo his fly, he begins to pull your underwear down.

“Why?” He closes his mouth around your breast and bites down just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

You remove one of your hands from his crotch and use it to grab the back of his neck, you pull him away from your chest, forcing him to look up at you as your other hand disappears into his trousers, palming his hardness.

Even as you step out of your underwear and kick it away, you’re starting to stroke him. His mouth falls open, sucking in a breath as gazes up at you as if you hung the moon.

“How could I feel helpless?” You goad, leaning in and resting your mouth beside his ear to whisper. “When I have so much power over you?” 

Art’s initial answer is to buck up into your hand, chasing the friction you’re moving too slowly to give him, but when you laugh at his desperation, he’s surging up, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you.

In a flash, you’ve taken up his position: ass resting on the edge of the desk. 

Before you can catch your breath, Art has his hands on your knees and is spreading your legs, exposing your bareness to him.

But apparently he still hasn’t got you where he wants, because his fingers then wrap around the back of your legs and he lifts you, placing you further back onto the wooden surface. More bottles roll off the edge and drop into the carpet. 

Then, finally, Art’s eyes meet yours. His smirk makes a return. 

“So…” He begins, his hands gathering up your dress and leaving it to bunch up at your waist. “I have absolutely no effect on you? None at all?”

“No-” You can’t even finish your thought let alone the word before his fingers are running through the wetness between your legs. Your instinct is to shut them, but his hips are in the way, so you only succeed in holding him firmly in place. 

You are left to stare as he lifts his hand up, evidence of your arousal glistening on his fingers. Then, slowly enough that he can watch the realisation of what he’s doing dawn on your face, Art takes his fingers into his own mouth.

His eyes meet yours and do not shift away for even a second as he licks your wetness from his skin. 

The tightness in your belly becomes almost too extreme to bear, and a throbbing begins between your legs. 

“I want you to ask.” Art says, his fingers–now wet with his own saliva–drawing circles on your inner thigh. “I want you to ask me to fuck you.” 

“I thought you were here because I make you feel helpless?” You try to sound taunting, but your voice is ragged with want. “Now you want to be in control?”

Art leans down and you expect an abrupt, bruising joining of your lips, but instead he kisses you slowly, tenderness in every gentle movement. His mouth is is still aligned with yours as he answers: 

“It’s not about control, sweetheart. I just want to hear that you want me as much as I want you.” 

You begin to kiss along his jaw, your sentence formed with words cushioned between the press of your lips:

“I want you to fuck me, Art.” 

Art's fingers curl around your jaw, bringing your lips back to his as he frees himself from his pants with his other hand. Your kiss is languid but rapidly growing with force, passion driving pleasure ever closer to point of pain.

“Condom?” Art questions into your open mouth. 

With his fingers digging into your chin, you can't shake your head so you’re forced to gather enough of your wits to speak again:

“Birth control.” 

“Okay.” Art pecks your lips before lifting a hand and spitting onto it. Then he’s fisting himself in his hand and pressing inside of you. 

Your legs immediately wrap around his waist, hooking together to pull him in even further. 

Art lets out a shuddered breath, his head dropping to your shoulder as he settles himself inside of you.

He kisses and licks across your collarbone, only stopping when he comes across the thin strap of your dress. With a little growl, he takes it between his teeth, tugging it back and then letting it ping back into your skin. 

You laugh, still adjusting to the feel of him inside of you as you move to pull down the top of your dress. But Art has other ideas. He stops you with a slow thrust, rolling his hips just enough to have your hands wrapping around his neck instead. 

“Let me do it.” He’s giving a command and yet it sounds like a grovel. 

Then, in unison, his fingers find the straps of your dress and he’s pulling them away, tugging the bodice down and exposing your breasts to him completely. His hands fall onto them immediately, palming the supple flesh and lifting them up higher so that he can kiss them even as he begins to rock into you. 

Just as your heartbeat begins to find some sort of rhythm again, Art pulls out of you almost completely before driving back in. Your breath is knocked out of you and as he begins to thrust with controlled rapidity.

Your hands fall to his still covered ass and dissatisfied with the lack of contact, you push your fingers past the waistband and dig your nails into his naked flesh. 

Art moans into your neck, clamping down with his teeth as he picks up his pace yet again. 

“Art-” You call out, lost in the press of him inside you. 

The table begins to shake so much that it’s slamming against the wall, the noise perfectly aligning with the sound of your hips slapping together.

“Tell me this doesn’t make you feel out of control.” Art pleads, his movements growing frenzied. 

By this point you can hardly think straight, so you give in, his statement going unanswered as your head is thrown back in pleasure. Art chuckles, licking up the column of your neck. 

“I think I got my answer.” 

“Shut up.” 

When Art laughs at you again, you remove your hands from his ass and grip his face instead, drawing his lips back up to yours. He opens wide, panting into your mouth before your tongues start to move together.

You stay like that, mouths joined and breaths shared as his thrusts become messier,  his hands on your back beginning to tremble.

But you’re not close yet and he knows it. He reaches between you and presses his thumb into your sensitive bud, applying enough pressure that, combined with him driving into you, has you quickly coming undone.  

You break the kiss, crying out as your body is wracked with convulsions. 

Art smiles, his eyes drooping closed as he chases his own release. And it doesn’t take long. You’re still coming back to yourself when his hips stutter and his fingers dig into you. He lets go, spilling inside you. 

You both go still. You press your face into his chest–his shirt now dappled with spots of sweat–as he places a kiss on the top of your head. 

You’re both breathing heavily, reeling in the wake of your joining when your phone–tucked into your purse that you had dropped by the door–begins to ring

Still inside you, Art shifts, pressing closer as his lips begin to kiss a path down your cheek. “Don’t answer it.” 

You lean back just enough to meet his eye and smile. “I’m not going to answer it.” 

Art matches your grin as he leans down and gives your lips a peck. “Good. Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”

[pinkflower2003]

STAY

Max Verstappen x Horner!Reader

Warnings : Angst, walking out on pregnant girlfriend? idk, dick Max? (honestly idk why i thought of this the thing just came into my head) Girlies i’m so sorry if this is shit this is my first time writing for someone if F1, this is just fiction idk all the facts.

Summary : As Christian Horners daughter, you were bound to meet Max Verstappen. What happens when you get pregnant when he is on the verge of becoming world champion and he doesn’t want to become a father? What happens when 3 years later after leaving each other’s lives, you get invited to the Grand Prix and he sees you again, this time with a little boy who looks just like him?

This is my first ever imagine on here so it’s probably really bad but i’m trying yall, we’re gonna work on it.

When you first met Max, you were both 18, he had started driving for red bull and you had started going to your dad’s, Christian Horner’s, work for some experience.

Racing wasn’t something you were exactly into, but it was practically your families life, so you grew up on it. At 18, you had decided to have a go at working in PR & media, and the RedBull F1 company was the perfect place to do that. Then you met Max, and your whole experience there changed.

Up until that point, you had never met a boy like him, he was so different, so passionate about the sport and you had to admit to yourself that you liked being around him, and he liked being around you.

And a relationship started around a year after you first met, a whole year of shy smiles to each other, hugs in excitement when he won, ones that lasted slightly longer than they should have. A year after you met was when Max finally had the guts to ask you out, and you, privately, got giddy with excitement.

He was your first everything. Your first date, your first kiss, your first boyfriend, and the first one you had sex with.

You couldn’t get enough of each other, you were utterly in love with him and everyone could see it. Max was never very good at showing his emotions, until it came to you, that’s when he completely changed.

Then one day, 3 years into your relationship, two pink lines turned up on a stick. You and Max had always been careful, a baby wasn’t what was wanted or needed at the time, you both knew that, Max was focusing on his racing career, he was determined to be the very best he could without letting anything getting in his way, and becoming at father at 21 would do just that.

But he deserved to know, and in your heart you hoped that the love the two of you shared would make everything okay, that it would all work out. But it didn’t.

Max freaked out, saying he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t be a father, he wouldn’t be a father. He struggled with his relationship with his father growing up, he had barely gotten over that, and now his own child? No, he refused. And so you left, saying goodbye to him, you left.

And so you went back home to England, leaving Max behind, starting a new life with your baby. It wasn’t until 3 years later that Max would finally see your baby.

Otto had just turned 3, and he was the light of your world, his baby blue eyes and light blonde hair in slight curls was the thing that got you through each day.

Dropping Otto off at nursery, you got a phone-call from your dad.

“Hey sweetheart,”

“Hey dad, everything okay?”

“Listen, i know you’re probably going to say no, and that’s fine, but how about you and Otto coming to the Grand Prix this year? I know how much he likes cars, maybe he’d like to come and see them. He always go on about it, I thought it might be a nice idea to bring him out.”

You sighed, you knew how much your dad wanted to involve his grandson in the sport. Christian would always sit and watch the races reruns with him on tv when he got home, and played Disney’s cars with him when they saw each other. You knew your dad just wanted to do something special for Otto, but was it really worth the risk of seeing Max again, going through all the heartache again.

“I don’t know dad-“

“Max won’t be anywhere near you guys Y/N, I promise, you won’t have to see him, he won’t even know you guys are there.” You sighed again, know your dad was really wanting you to do this.

“You promise?” you asked, almost like a child.

“I promise.”

“I’ll think about it.”

And so you thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it until it kept you up at night.

It was only 48 before the Grand Prix that you had decided to go, and it was a tough decision, but for the sake of your son’s happiness, you gave in.

Getting there, you were greeted by your dad and his wife, Geri, who both immediately pulled you and your son into a hug. Geri looked at your son, “he’s gotten so big! I remember the day he was born, it seems like just yesterday.”

You smiled at her, it was true, the first 3 years of his life flew by in the blink of an eye, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness in your chest, not only for yourself, but for Max who never got to witness it. He would never get to see his first steps, his first smile, all because he didn’t want to. Everything in you said to be angry at Max, and while you were, you felt sad for him, because how sad that he would never get to see how amazing your son was.

Your dad took Otto out of your arms, cuddling his grandson who had a lightening mcqueen backpack on and a redbull baseball cap on. “Ready Ottie? We’re gonna go and see some cars, you excited?”

Otto squealed in delight, he fist pumped the air. “Yeah! Cars that go zoom?” He asked, in his sweet little voice.

“Cars that go very zoom,” Christian replied to him.

Running into Max almost seemed inevitable, even when your dad had promised you that he would be no where near you or Otto, but you hadn’t expected it to be because of your son running up to him.

Before the race began, before Max got into his car, before he would even be able to realise you were there, your dad had taken you and Otto to see the car, knowing your little boy would love it. Christian had promised you Max wouldn’t be there, he would be off getting ready for the race and doing some media responsibilities.

And he was, you and your little boy were enjoying yourselves, Otto go the chance to sit in the car, you and your dad got photos with him, he was giggling none stop, and you couldn’t help but feel this is how it could’ve been, just with Max being the one to show his little boy around.

Taking Otto out the car, your dad put him on the ground, holding his hand to keep him there. You and your dad talked more about the car, admiring it. You both hadn’t notice that the door had opened, and Otto had run straight towards the person that had opened it.

“Y/N?” the voice said, causing you to turn around, going pale.

Max was stood there, your little boy at his feet, his little baseball cap falling slightly over his eyes from the impact of running into Max’s legs.

You stood there speechless, not sure what to say after all these years. Your dad ran to get Otto, who giggled as his grandad picked him up, while Max just stared at him.

“He-Is that?” Max said, breathless pointing to your child, but you just stood there, heart beating out of your chest.

Otto made grabbing hands towards you, trying to get out of his grandad’s arms, “mummy!” He screeched, and you took his out of your dad’s hands, gathering his things in your hands, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

“I’m sorry, coming here was a mistake.” You said quietly, trying to walk out the door where Max was stood.

“No wait!” Max said, not wanting you to leave, but you were now angry. He didn’t want you to leave now, but it was okay three years ago? Your heart had shattered when he wanted nothing to do with your baby, and it seemed to have shattered all over seeing him once again. “What’s his name?” He asked, staring at your little boy, who had the same eyes as him.

“Otto Max Horner.”

You could see Max trying to calm his breathing, his hands slightly shaking. Otto looked at Max, giving him a goofy smile, not understanding what was happening.

“Stay,” Max said to the both of you. “Just stay under after the race. Please just let me talk to you, let me talk to him, just stay for the race.”

You just smiled at him, sadly.

“You should have asked me to stay three years ago Max, it’s too late for that now.”

[pshaven]

NUDES I CAN'T SEND park sunghoon ౨ৎ

synopsis! after a drunken night of events you can’t remember, you find a park sunghoon at your front door with apologies you thought you’d never hear.

wc! 6.4k+

cw! angst (sawry..), toxic!sunghoon kinda, ex!sunghoon, jealous/possessive!heeseung makes an appearance, reader sent nudes while drunk, dom!sunghoon, he's handsy, dirty talk, pnv, oral (f!receiving), riding, no protection mentioned, sunghoon calls reader baby, sweet girl, multiple orgasms, not really much aftercare mentioned, ningning from aespa mentioned

previous > next > break the skin mlst

as your best friend, jay’s approval is almost as meaningful as your own parents.

so during a night out at your guys’ usual hanging pub with a couple of your friends, including your new boyfriend of two weeks, sunghoon, jay gave you an encouraging smile, “i’m glad you two found each other.” 

right then and there— you knew it. sunghoon was your one and only, it would be detrimental to lose him, especially after jay expressed his happiness towards the two of you. 

and one of the biggest bonuses, unlike your past relationships, sunghoon doesn’t care about you being best friends with jay. he’s understanding, takes his time to know jay as well, disregarding your close friendship with another man. 

you always saw yourself as a lucky girl to have sunghoon by your side. sunghoon who stayed up late with you, helping you study for a class he’s never even took. sunghoon who found you sitting in the corner of the library alone, your textbook papers wrinkled and dried up tear stains on them. sunghoon who has the most handsomest smile you’ve ever laid eyes upon in your whole life… 

to think you lost someone that special makes your heart ache.

jay struggled badly with trying to keep your spirits up, and all your girl friends did their best to drag you out of your room to do even the most miniscule things in effort to get your mind off the breakup. 

two weeks turned into two months, then one year, then two years. it seemed as if nothing has changed. you’re still happy, right? sunghoon still makes you happy. but you’ve never had to question if you made him happy. you suppose— that was perhaps the first crack in your relationship. 

then, everything felt so.. stagnant. almost boring, having done everything together until there was nothing else left to do. you think both of you were starting to feel the same way. perhaps the two of you were at different stages in life.

“what do you wanna eat for dinner?” you asked, sitting on the couch with your legs crossed as the both of you channel surf. 

“i’m fine with anything, you can pick.” 

you shrugged, “i’m okay with anything too.”

you didn’t think it’d be the final crack until everything shattered. 

his brows furrowed, and you could almost see the agitated vein on his temple. “you’re okay with everything, as always,” he says, tone laced in sarcasm as a scoff left his lips.

you felt your eye twitch. “what was that?” 

for a long time, and maybe even the first, a big fight broke out between the two of you. it quickly became a shouting match, fueled with hurtful words that neither of you truly meant. 

“aren’t you tired?!” sunghoon sighed exasperatedly, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair. you felt tears welling up in your eyes— it’d been so long since you last cried ever since you met sunghoon. you’d never think he’d be the reason for your tears. 

“no? what are you talking about?!” you argued back, but your voice was starting to lose its fight. “i-i don’t know what to do.. are you unhappy with me?” 

sunghoon couldn’t look at you. 

“i…” 

his hesitance said it all. 

“you should have said something sooner… th-then maybe we wouldn’t be here right now,” you mumble quietly, chewing on the inside of your cheek to will your tears from falling. 

“but i want to be with you still!” sunghoon pleaded, quickly rushing to you as he placed his hands on your shoulders, his grip tight as if you were about to leave. 

you don’t have the willpower to leave. 

“you want to be with me… but you aren’t happy with me,” you frowned deeply, your head hanging down as you stare at your feet. 

“i-i’ll try… i want to be happy with you. i need t-to…” he choked on his own words, his mind reeling for the right words to say. 

you sniffle, and sunghoon feels his entire world shatter to pieces when you rest your forehead against his chest. “you should go…” 

you’re joking— he thought. no tears were daring to roll down your cheeks, and that he knows is when you’re putting up an act. 

he put up a fight. you don’t actually want him to leave, do you? but then you’re balling your fists up against his shirt, tugging on the fabric. “i don’t wanna— i can’t.. be the reason why you hold yourself back.”

so then what? what was he supposed to do when you seem so desperate to let him go, let him walk out your life? it hurt like a bitch, and the reason for your tears being because of him made it a little easier to leave. in his thought process, he thought you’d stop crying because of him. then maybe, in a week or two, you’ll call him again.

but that call never came.

sunghoon waited months for your contact to pop up on his screen, but by the third month, he unwillingly had to let you go. he was angry– sure… maybe it did sound like a real breakup but he thought it was just a hiccup, a bump in the road, like what most couples have. but it wasn’t, and he was frustrated that you seemed to let him go so easily. 

he couldn’t.

sneaky texts to your close friends, even jay, to ask how you’re doing. if you’re doing okay. the only one who was really honest with him, the only one who didn’t tell sunghoon that you’re “doing just fine, don’t worry about it” was jay. jay, albeit hesitant to do this behind your back, he knew how much sunghoon meant to you, and seeing your defeated expression everyday wasn’t exactly ideal for him. 

“she’s not doing well… can barely get her out the house,” jay had said over the phone to sunghoon, the former letting out a sigh. sunghoon said nothing back. “you.. you should probably move on too. this isn’t healthy for the both of you.” 

sunghoon agreed, then quickly hung up. 

like hell he would be able to move on from you.

“ning? ningninggg~” you slur, eyes squinted to look for your friend, clumsily tripping over some other drunken people’s feet. you’re mindlessly searching around the cramped living room for her until you spot the brunette out in the crowd. 

“y/n, where have you been! i’ve been asking everyone where you went,” she frowns with worry, rubbing your arms that are warm already from the alcohol in your bloodstream. you give her a cheeky smile, leaning your head on her chest as you sway her around drunkenly. 

she laughs at you warmly, playing with your hair as she lets you do whatever for a few minutes until you jump suddenly, grabbing both her shoulders, “i should text him.” 

her brow only raises, “text…who?” her voice slightly teasing, knowing your past nights with a certain roommate and classmate. but then her eyes widen when she realizes who you really meant, and she shakes her head immediately. “no! absolutely not, y/n! give me that fucking phone right now, i swear to god,” she yells at you, but you’re already bolting away from her with your phone in the air. 

ningning chases you down, gaining stares but you’re too out of it to care and ningning is too busy running after you. you fall over a group of randoms sitting on the couch, and ningning is left to apologize for you. “i am… so, so sorry…” she mumbles, quickly snatching your phone as you recover and putting it in her pocket. “my dear y/n, please get up so we can just go back home. i don’t know if i can bare anymore embarrassment.” 

safe to say, she dragged you back into her home and forced you to drink water despite your lazy denial of i don’t need it! and i’m totally okay! 

you shift around in the bed, a groan escaping your lips when you feel someone tugging at your arm. “y/n,” ningning shout-whispers, knowing your hangover is probably killing you. you groan again in response, shaking your head and mumbling something around the lines of “five more minutes, mom”. 

she rolls her eyes at you, sighing before placing the glass of water down on her bedside table. “i gotta get to class. please drink this water and gatorade here before you leave. i better come back to no throw up on my carpet.” she tells you, albeit knowing that you’re only half listening and are going to forget everything she said ten minutes later. 

you do get up eventually.. two hours later. you drink the water and take the gatorade with you before cleaning up her room that ningning so graciously let you sleep in. you take an uber back to your shared apartment with heeseung, trudging lazily up the stairs and hallway of your complex. you insert your key to only find that the door is left unlocked, and you frown, ready to scold your roommate of his bad habit of not locking the door. 

“heeseung–!” you yell, stepping inside but you’re not met with your roommate’s face. instead, your questionable ex stands by the couch, in front of you. 

your jaw wants to drop, your eyes want to widen, you want to scream profanities and maybe cry in your room later. but you somehow can’t, and you stare at him blankly. 

“y/n!” your name is called, but with two different voices– your ex and your roommate. heeseung comes running out of the hallway, in which you assume he was in the bathroom earlier when you had just gotten home. 

sunghoon turns his head to look at heeseung, his brows furrowed and a look of disdain on his face. you choose not to question it, knowing the expression he’s wearing all too well, so you move your attention to heeseung. 

“what?” you ask, taking a step towards him as he gestures for you to go with him into the hall with a tilt of his head. you follow, exchanging a quick glance at sunghoon with your lips pursed into a line. 

“what is he doing here?” you whisper, rubbing your temple as the pounding hangover begins to subside, but you think it’s about to come back sooner after seeing your ex in your living room. 

heeseung rubs the nape of his neck, biting the inside of his cheek as he thinks of a reasonable explanation. he doesn’t know much about you and sunghoon, and he actually had only learned that he was your ex this morning. “uhmm… he showed up this morning.. and i was coming back from a class and he was just sitting out in the hall. he saw me approach the door and asked if you lived here. i then asked him, who are you, ‘cause i didn’t wanna give out your info! and then he said that he was your ex?? i didn’t even know you had one…” he rambles, mumbling the last part to himself but it doesn’t escape your ears. 

you huff, slapping his arm, earning you an ouch! from him. “what the hell! so you knew he’s my ex and you still let him in?! you are a horrible roommate!” you scold, your lips curving into a deep frown. 

“well… i thought that maybe you two had those ex’s but still friends kinda relationship…” heeseung shrugs his shoulders, giving you an awkward smile to try and save face. “i’m sorry, y/n! please forgive me,” he pouts suddenly, grabbing your hands and clasping them together with his. 

you roll your eyes before bringing his hands to your lips. his eyes widen slightly, panicky as his eyes dart from the end of the hall to you. but the panic quickly leaves as it arrived, with you biting down on his hand and he hisses in pain. “fuck– i didn’t know you were into biting like that, y/n..” 

“she is. i would know.” 

both of your heads sharply turn to the intruding voice that joins the two of you in the hall, sunghoon with his arms crossed against his chest, leaning his side against the wall. 

heeseung clears his throat after the silence that hung in the air, looking at you with softer eyes than before. he’s insinuating that he’ll be here, if anything went south between you and your ex. you give him a curt smile and nod, and heeseung takes a quick peek at sunghoon before he pecks a kiss on your cheek (that was very purposeful and much longer than what a peck should be). 

heeseung leaves, his door shutting is the only sound between you two. you bite your cheek, clearly avoiding eye contact when sunghoon begins to step closer towards you, but not invading your space.

“you guys fucked, huh?” 

your eyes shoot up at him. your mouth opens to retort, to say anything, but you’re stunned. sunghoon gives you a (sly) smile, eyes flicking between your eyes at the way your mouth quivers in nerves. “lucky guess,” he shrugs his shoulders, but it was more than just a lucky guess– there were too many signs of closeness that platonic roommates should not be having.

you still say nothing, waiting for him to speak and say what he wants from you, so that he can leave as soon as possible. you know well that small talk works nothing on sunghoon, and he only hates it more if not genuine. 

“does he satisfy you?” he asks, and you feel like he’s poking at you, but his arms are still crossed as he interrogates you. you frown, nodding your head but sunghoon only scoffs, his smirk only growing more. 

“ah… is that so?” he hums, unfolding his arms to dig out his phone from his pocket. he taps a few times on his screen before flipping the phone to show you. 

and you feel immensely embarrassed. if you had the chance to gain a magical power right here, right now, you would pick invisibility without a question. you’re mortified at the sight of sunghoon’s screen– your naked body on full display. and not just one, not two, but four photos of you in different positions, in front of the mirror, you name it. 

“well.. i gotta say, for someone who says they’re satisfied, i wonder why i got nudes then..” sunghoon muses, his canines showing through his grin.

a part of you wants to slap him, wipe that stupidly handsome grin off his face but you know that you’re the one that’s in the wrong in this situation. you sent your ex boyfriend nudes… you can’t even fathom the reason why you were trying to sendnudes in the first place, or what you were doing with sunghoon’s contact open. the two of you have been no-contact for a while since the mutual breakup, so why did your drunk mind decide that it was a good time to text him? 

and it’s not like your sex life is dry… by any means! jake and heeseung can definitely vow for you, and the weird and sudden urge to prove sunghooon starts to take over you. 

you scoff, “just wanted to show what you’ve been missing, i guess,” you shrug your shoulders, feigning confidence.

that’s when you forget how much sunghoon actually knows you– those two years didn’t go down the drain for nothing. 

“i do miss it.” blunt as ever, sunghoon says it so flatly that it catches you off guard, your wide eyes meeting his sudden dark, bedroom eyes. 

“oh.”

sunghoon struggles to bite back the smirk that grows on his face, taking another step towards you that starts to invade your senses– his cologne that he hasn’t changed since the day you first met. almost like a wave of nostalgia hits you, sunghoon decides to remind you what it feels like to have his lips on your skin.

but he’s not so nice, his lips barely grazing your jaw and his eyes hyper fixated on your own lips. your eyes dart up to read his face, but he’s so close, overwhelming you and clouding your mind, your hangover long forgotten. 

“what about you?” he whispers, slightly pulling back just to tease you even more, not giving you what you want most.

“h-huh?” you ask, confused, already starting to feel dazed.

“you miss me too?”

honestly, you should be putting up more of a fight. the breakup was mutual, yes, but it still hurt like hell and you didn’t spend months picking your life back up and getting used to being single again. and you definitely know that jay would not approve, the man being your support system through it all no matter the multiple times you shut him out.

but a part of you just wants to think that maybe, just maybe, sunghoon is back for a reason. but you could also be gaslighting yourself for thinking that.. perhaps you want to feel less guilty about wanting to so badly indulge in sunghoon and your desires. 

you were never known for having good self control, impulse usually taking over for most of your actions, and sunghoon knows that part of you very well to use it as an advantage.

“kinda,” you mumble, eyes avoiding his face as you feel your face grow a tad bit hot over the mere confession.

“kinda?” sunghoon hums, clicking his tongue as he shakes his head slightly. “i think you need a reminder, what do you think?”

before you could think– critically think about what the consequences are, you’re already nodding and all too familiar lips meet yours. soft and gentle to ease the both of you into it, having it been too long since the last time the two of you kissed. overwhelmed with the fluctuations of emotions that hit you, you practically moan into the kiss, causing him to bite your lower lip and earning a low groan from him. 

the sound is enough to have your stomach churning, and like pavlov’s theory, your thighs clenching automatically. yeah, you definitely missed that– having sunghoon wrapped around your finger without having to do much. 

“fuck…” he sighs, like he’s reminiscing an old memory but he might as well be, having almost forgotten how much you really affect him. a simple kiss that could pass as almost innocent (in his standards) has his pants tightening. 

and you had forgotten how hot he sounds whenever he curses. before you realize it, you’re grabbing his wrist and taking him into your bedroom, door shutting closed behind him when you push his back into said door. 

you quickly kiss him again, more feverishly and he’s fast to reciprocate and even chase after your lips when you even slightly pull back for a breath of air. his hands are roaming your body, getting familiar again with all your curves and marks that he’s studied for two years. he knows you love it when he gets grabby, so a tight hold on your waist has you moaning again into his mouth and you can feel his smile against your lips. 

“lemme eat you out, baby,” sunghoon mumbles mid-kiss, his grip on your hips tightening a bit more to convey his need, his brows slightly furrowed and he looks like he might die if he doesn’t. and you decide to use it to your advantage.

“hmm, under one condition,” you say, holding up an index finger between the two of your faces to prevent him from kissing you again. sunghoon’s confused, but he nods either way. you move away from him, his hands reluctantly letting go of your waist but he follows your every move. you go onto your bed, still facing him as you make your way to the center. he’s still moving with you like he’s under a spell, a knee propping him up on your bed as he stays at the edge.

slowly, you peel your bottoms off, and like the entranced man sunghoon is, his eyes are following your hands, waiting for your next words. you gesture for him to come closer, legs spreading to allow him space but your panties are blocking what he really wants to see.

“apologize.”

what you want him to apologize for? you don’t really know yourself. maybe the years you wasted on him? for showing up out of the blue? the hold he still has on you after all the hard work you spent on getting over him? luckily, sunghoon doesn’t question it. he gets close to you, between your thighs as he eyes your face. he visibly gulps before licking his lips and he nods without saying a word.

his face is inches away from your pantyclad cunt, and you start to feel a bit impatient (even though it’s only been a few seconds). he bites his lip, face tilting upwards and the tip of his nose perfectly grazes your clit. you gasp softly, looking down at him with the help of your elbows propping you up. 

“‘m sorry…” he murmurs softly, lips brushing against your pussy. he eyes you from below, through his thick lashes and you practically fold, your face growing hotter. 

he brings a finger to your cunt, still playing through your panties and he’s enjoying this more than you, feeling you clench and unclench in anticipation. he can’t hide the way his lips curve upwards into a smug smirk, missing how cute you are under his touch. 

his index finger curves underneath your panties, tugging it to the side to view your bare, wet cunt for him. he hums at the sight, licking his lips once again as if he was trying to hold himself back, eyes never departing from your pussy. 

“missed her s’much…” he almost slurs, drunk and he hasn’t even gotten a taste yet. he flattens his tongue, pressing his hot mouth against your folds. you squirm slightly, unsure hands gripping at your bedsheets. “y’know how much i like it when you grab my hair.. please do it again,” he pulls away from you, leaving you the dissatisfaction of no friction. 

so you do as he says, hands leaving your bed sheets as you tangle your fingers into his hair, forgetting just how soft and well-taken care of his hair is. he sighs when you tug slightly at the strands, the air blowing into your cunt and you buck your hips slightly. impatient, sunghoon attaches his lips to your cunt and begins urgently lapping up your juices.

you squeal, your hand unintentionally tugging harder and he groans into you. your taste alone has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, mind starting to reel at the reminder of how pliant you are for him. 

“i’m sooo sorry…” he mumbles sweetly into your pussy, practically inhaling you with his hands and arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned into the mattress. he feels you twitch, his tongue bullying its way into your entrance and nose grazing your sensitive bud. 

you’re shaking at this point, your body and mind from being overwhelmed by the familiar sight of sunghoon between your thighs and his mumbled apologies into your pussy like he’s apologizing to it. “sorry…sorry, sorry,” he mindlessly slurs as he continues to slurp and lap at your juices. 

as it turns out, no matter how over you think you are from sunghoon, he’ll always have you in a vice grip, especially when you come undone from his tongue alone. you moan obscenities, your hips fighting against sunghoon’s grasp on you, but your hands pulling at his hair strands tell him that you want him closer. 

he moans into you, moving away from your dripping entrance and up to suck on your clit, encouraging your orgasm. you curse, his name falling out of your lips and sunghoon’s eyes don’t leave your face for a single millisecond, too obsessed with your cute, overstimulated expression. 

he finally pulls away from you, a filthy pop! following as he catches his breath. you lay your head back down on the pillow, legs giving out on being spread after sunghoon has let you go from his hold. but the moment is short-lived, his hand coming quickly to your thigh. “what are you doing? i want more.” 

and what sunghoon wants, he gets.

apparently, he wanted it three more times.

“wai– oh!” you whine, but your words fall on deaf ears as sunghoon is nose-deep in your cunt, eyes shut and visibly enjoying the feast laid for him. you’ve given up on fighting him two orgasms ago, knowing well that he’s done when he says so.

“wh..why are you so insatiable ri-right now..?” you ask through broken moans and heavy sighs. sunghoon finally opens his eyes, looking up at you. he acts like he’s pondering for a moment, but he knows the answer already– he just doesn’t want to pull away from your pussy yet. 

“mmm.. told you already, baby,” he mutters, tongue still licking up your essence around your cunt, “missed you… need’a satisfy my taste buds.” 

with that answer, he’s back into your pussy, except this time he gives you the pleasure of his fingers inserting inside you for the first time that night. you gasp, your free hand lurching down to reach for his wrist, feeling your orgasm suddenly approach you rapidly. 

“oh..oh fuck, i’m–” you whine, but you ddon’t need to tell sunghoon twice, inserting another finger. and, of course he knows how much you love the feeling of being stretched, especially when it’s in preparation for accommodating his cock for you.

your head is instantly thrown back, your nails gripping his hand turning white as you cum around his fingers and on his tongue, legs threatening to close shut around his face (not that he’d complain). 

his tongue swirls and plays with your swollen clit, fingers not relenting on you even as your back arches off the bed. “‘m here, baby, cum for me, last one, promise,” he mumbles to push you over the edge, “will never leave you again, ‘m so sorry, i’m sorry, baby.” 

it’s magical, really, the way his words can do so much on their own. maybe it’s the rasp in his voice that you’ve never really gotten used to, even when the two of you were together– it always had an effect on you. but perhaps, it’s really  just sunghoon who has that effect.

you come undone for the third time this morning, hand clasping over your mouth to save your embarrassment, not forgetting your roommate residing two rooms away from you. sunghoon finally detaches his lips from you, his fingers replacing your cunt for his mouth. he groans at the taste of your sin, the side of his face lazily laid on your thigh as you recover. 

you watch him suck his own fingers lewdly, a feeling of jealousy washing over you — what you’re really jealous of, you’re not sure. perhaps his fingers? his mouth? 

“what’re you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?” his words snapping you out of your gaze, but he knows damn well what’s running through your head. 

you mumble a mere “nothing”, your head turning to the side to avoid his eyes. he hums at your reply before kneeling off the bed, the sudden dip lifting off the mattress causing you to look at him again. 

sunghoon peels off his shirt and undoes his pants, and you had completely forgotten that he was still completely dressed throughout your nth orgasms of him just eating you out. you crawl up the bed a little, your elbows propping you up as you watch him. 

he tilts his head to the side, looking at you with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “what’s that shocked look for? you know i’m not done with you.” 

that you do, having dealt with his insatiableness when the two of you were together plenty of times before. you chew on your bottom lip as he joins you back on the bed, settling between your legs once again. he leans close to you, his chest just hovering above yours and his face so unbearably close to yours. 

“you do know i truly did miss you, right…” he mumbles, his eyes switching its gaze on your lips and your own eyes. you don’t say anything, but he leans in even more, causing a small squeak to leave your lips in surprise. he tsks, his gaze leaving you for a second as if he was embarrassed, “had to convince one of your friends to tell me if you were doing okay or not. you got some really loyal friends..” he sighs, finally pulling away from invading your space. 

his words surprised you, your friends never once mentioning sunghoon texting them to ask about you. a twisted part makes you feel giddy that he was still checking up on you after all this time. 

“y’know you could’ve just come to me… after your whole rooming situation,” he continues on, his words in a low whisper, like he’s unsure if he should be saying all of this in the first place. 

“i was afraid you’d turn me away.. and i didn’t want to bother you,” you reply meekly, still looking at him even if he wasn’t. but at your words, he turns back to look at you. 

“i could never say no to you.” 

and you know it’s true, park sunghoon would never dare tell a lie to you. 

the silence engulfs the both of you for a minute before a small smile makes its way onto your lips. “i mean, if you’re just jealous that i’m rooming with another guy, you could just say that.” 

his eyes widen slightly, a failed stifled smirk growing on his face. “ah, you always read me like a book, baby,” he hums, his hands trailing up your thighs and spreading them open. 

you yelp when he tugs you closer to his torso, grabbing a hold of your thighs and lifting your leg above to rest on his shoulder. the tip of his cock barely brushes against your pussy, your hips already needily bucking for attention. he tsks at you, squeezing your thigh to get you to pay attention to him. 

“please… hoon,” you give him a cute pout, one that he typically always falls for. but he seems to be stubborn today, intending on dragging out this long awaited moment. 

“nah, don’t tell me what to do.” 

you’re whining again, but he quickly shuts you up when he guides his tip to brush against your sensitive clit, a sigh leaving your lips. he repeats this action, your juices coating his cock and making it glisten under the sun peeking through your blinds. 

“fuck..” he groans, slightly shaking his head as if to snap himself out of a daze, “can’t believe i even survived without you.” 

his words hit you like a trainwreck, your head thrown back as you thrust your hips upwards, his tip catching at your entrance and slipping in slightly due to your slickness. 

“hahh~ oh— feels good, more, p-please!” you beg, pleading at him with your eyes, causing him to grin and place a kiss on your leg that's resting on his shoulder. 

“lucky i missed you— and this cute pussy,” sunghoon grumbles before bottoming all the way in, both of you moaning in relief into each other’s neck. he starts off slow, very much opposite to how the two of you used to have sex. but you suppose makeup sex to sunghoon is like this, not that you mind.

the two of you are already panting like animals in heat, caught up in each other’s body warmth and the way he stretches your walls out, your cunt accommodating the familiarity of your ex’s cock. sunghoon cages your head in with his arms, leaning his forehead against yours. 

like you’re making love to each other, the eye contact you two hold is scary as his thrusts start to get harder and deeper, the skin on skin contact is loud and echoing throughout your bedroom. 

“fuuckk,” sunghoon drawls, breaking eye contact with you first to squeeze his eyes shut, enjoying your gummy walls suck him in. you whimper, his moans having a well enough effect on your body as you feel your arousal stick to your thighs and his pelvis. 

you pull him into a needy kiss, hushed moans being swallowed by the both of you to keep the noise level to a minimum (not that it’s really helping). the kiss is sloppy, spit drooling from the corner of your mouth as sunghoon speeds up. 

“mmgh– oh fuck!” you whine, starting to feel how deep he really is. you swear he grew bigger. 

sunghoon moves his hands to caress your hips and thighs, cherishing what used to be his. he moves his lips down to your neck, peppering wet kisses at your pulse point , causing shivers to run down your spine. 

“nn-no, stop,” you giggle slightly, the sensitivity making you pull away from him but sunghoon doesn’t budge, his sharp canines dragging down to your collarbone. “you’re so cute, god..” he mutters, lifting body up as well as pulling your thighs up together, placing soft kisses at your ankle. “m’gonna fuck you like you deserve to, sweet girl.” 

you don’t get a word out, a gasp pulled out of you as he thrusts roughly, the new angle making you feel like he’s in your stomach. you slap a mouth over your hand in fear of heeseung hearing too much from his room. sunghoon grins at you, canine peeking under his lip. 

“no, no… what’re you doin’? he should hear you, so he knows what you sound like when you get properly fucked…” his last words said sharply, followed by even sharper thrusts that make you squeal even through your palm. 

his brows are furrowed now, concentration fully on you as he focuses on your pleasure. his hand snakes down around your thighs, his thumb swiping at your sensitive clit. you let out a whine, the palm over your mouth long forgotten as you grip his forearm. 

“ooh~” he hums, a deep chuckle leaving his lips, “you’re tightening up.. my baby is gonna cum, aren’t you?” he taunts, a brow cocking in question as a smirk appears on his face. you nod, your words being swallowed by your own moans and whines. you’re scratching up his forearm, not that he minds– he’s never minded when you mark him as yours. 

you can’t even give him a warning, your orgasm crashing over you, splotches of white invading your vision as you toss your head back. sunghoon releases a groan, your walls clenching and unclenching around his cock causing him to pound into you faster. 

he lets out another chuckle at your shaking body, his finger letting your clit go. he grabs onto your arms, pulling you up towards him. you instinctively wrap your arms around him, his cock resting deep inside you. your chest heaves up and down, resting your head on his shoulder.

sunghoon hums, “tapping out now? you used to last much longer…” he says, feigning a thoughtful tone to tease you. you pout, raising your head. you are tired, yes… but sunghoon always knows how to provoke you into continuing. 

“i-i’m not,” you frown, suddenly raising your hips then bouncing back down on his cock. he sucks in a breath, leaning back slightly and using his arms to prop himself up. 

“mmm, okay… i’ll give you two minutes before you’re whining, tellin’ me you’re too tired. ‘m gonna have to do all the work again,” he sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes sassily at you. 

you slap his chest before looping your arm around his neck again. you don’t retort back– you’ll prove him wrong with just your actions. steadily bouncing up and down on his cock to create a nice pace for you, it’s not long before sunghoon is groaning out your name.

easily entranced by your bouncing tits in front of him, he wraps his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it. you whine, your hips twitching in urge to grind on him rather than bounce, but you resist as your mission is to make your ex lover cum. 

your hands tangle into his undercut, scratching as his scalp and back as you continue to ride him, the squelching of your cunt meeting his cock making the two of you even more needier. “oh fuuckk,” sunghoon almost whines, tearing his lips apart from your nipple. “don’t stop, juuust like that.” 

your thighs are getting tired and starting to burn, but the twitching of his cock inside you keeps you going, knowing that he’s not too far off from his orgasm. slamming your hips down harder onto him, you grab his face and pull him into another messy kiss, since you know that sloppy kisses always get him even more worked up. 

and you’re right, as sunghoon’s hips thrust back up into you, sloppily pounding as he holds your body still to hover above him, using you. but he doesn’t relent– making you cum only once on his cock? that’s never happened and he intends on never letting it happen. his hand once again sneaks down, rubbing your swollen and overstimulated clit. you cry out into his mouth, him easily shushing you up again as he pushes his tongue inside your mouth. 

you both arrive at your climax, sunghoon groaning out your name against your lips as you grind hopelessly against him. 

the two of you still are engaging in a kiss, less sloppier and more soft. pulling away to finally properly catch your breath, sunghoon rubs soothingly along your hips and thighs.

shouldn’t this be when regret starts flooding your mind and body? you should probably be freaking out now, telling sunghoon to leave and to never speak again. but.. you don’t feel the regret washing over you. maybe a little guilt, but it’s mostly because you told jay you would never be in contact with sunghoon again. and the fact that you told jay you blocked him, which you clearly did not, leading you to your current situation of being wrapped in his arms.

you’re a little too comfortable right now, listening to sunghoon’s soft breathing as the two of you embrace each other. you almost want to break down in tears, beg for him back, but that’s definitely the last thing that you should be doing. you need to consult with someone, and that someone being your best friend. 

[latenightdaydreams]

First time Konig and reader have sex. But size kink😩😩😩😩 Reader is petite

https://twitter.com/kinulta/status/1765084505810117118?t=HH9h6rCAbx7MwYLdqcOorQ&s=19

I imagine reader is gonna be like this and Konig fucks us til we pass out

As a shorty, I live for size kink König🙏🏽

König x Petite!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, size difference, size kink, petite reader

1.6k word count

.

.

Being 6 '10, König usually dates women around 5’8- and up. They’re beautiful of course, but he has always wondered what it would be like to be with a tiny woman. Most of the interactions he’s had with small women have scared him; they’re incredibly fierce, and he is so awkward he freezes around them. Like an elephant with a mouse, he can’t explain it.

Then he meets you. On a random grocery shopping trip. He had to look all the way down to see your eyes, the top of your head reaching just below his chest. Instantly he became nervous, not knowing how to act. He wanted to make himself seem smaller and less intimidating since that’s all he is ever viewed as and you were so tiny.

Yet, you weren’t scared of him. You looked him right in the eyes and demanded he help you grab something from the top shelf, in a kind way of course.

“You have to help me; I can’t jump high enough.” You laughed and the sound gave König butterflies.

“Ja, sure, lead the way.” He was willing to follow you anywhere.

Two months later and you both have decided to make things official. He treats you like you’re made of glass, scared to even cuddle while sleeping because what if he rolls over on top of you? Other than oral sex and fingering, you both haven’t gone all the way yet. He is terrified his body weight will crush you or he will be too rough with your “delicate” body.

He can’t lie, he has always wondered what sex would be like with someone tiny, like 4’11-5’4, and now he has you. He’s watched a lot of porn of a tall big dick man absolutely dominating the smaller woman, but he never thought he’d be here. Seeing you in front of him makes him question the logistics of it all.

 König stands before you as you lie naked on the bed. He looks at your body before shifting his gaze down and rolling the condom down his length. A wave of nervousness rushes over him, mixed with excitement as he sees your hand go between your legs and begin to rub your pussy. His eyes slowly trail up your body to meet your eyes again.

“Are you sure you are ready?”

“Absolutely.” You’ve been begging for weeks; you aren’t going to back down now.

König smirks and walks to you, standing at the edge of the bed, looking at how your fingers circle your clit.

“How should we…start?”

“How you would with anyone.” You begin to laugh.

König blushes and lays on the bed beside you, “Come here.”

You smile and crawl over to him, straddling his hips. His eyes are drawn to your small body over his, keeping his hands to the side so as to not hurt you. He watches as you grab his cock and slowly lower yourself down on to him. König lets out a soft moan and grabs the sheets, refraining from grabbing you and pushing you down more.

“Fuck…” König drops his head back and closes his eyes.

At first you slowly bounce yourself on him, letting yourself get adjusted to his size. Watching him as he reacts to feeling his thick cock be swallowed whole by your tight little cunt. You put your hands behind you on his thighs as you move your legs so your feet are flat on the bed.

Slowly his hips begin to thrust up into you, he opens his eyes and leans his head forward to look down at you. Your breasts bouncing as your eyebrows are pinched from the pleasure, your eyes meet. He can’t help but to reach out and rest one hand on your breast and the other on your hip. He grips you tightly and begins to assist in your bouncing, making you speed up.

“Fucking ride that cock…” He lightly slaps your ass.

Both of your moans fill the room as you begin to slam down hard on him. He begins to feel himself want to fuck you harder, it scares him so he holds you still.

“Wait,” He is breathing heavily, “I- wait.”

“Are you about to cum?”

“No, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Jesus, König, you won’t!”

“Lay on your side.” He ignores your attitude and watches as you pull yourself up from his cock, it falls forward onto his stomach. The condom covered in your creamy white arousal. He wishes he could go in raw.

You lay on your side and look over your shoulder as he adjusts his big body behind yours. He gets close to you, grasping his cock as he rubs it along your wet folds. He pushes his hips forward slightly, feeling his tip slip in. He lifts your ass cheek up with his hand to push in easier, looking down and watching your pretty lips stretch to accommodate him. He places his huge hand on your waist, and begins to buck forward into your cunt lightly.

Your eyes still locked onto his as he fucks you, he leans in and kisses your lips softly before moaning and resting his head back on the pillow. You begin to push back into him every time he thrust in. The supple flesh of your ass bouncing with every hit.

“Please fuck me.” You beg, the arm you’re resting on outstretched and holding on to the blanket.

“Ja.” He moves his hand from your waist to spank your ass lightly again. His hand goes back as he begins to pick up his pace.

“Oh my god your cock feels so good in my tight little pussy.” You moan out in a pathetic voice.

“Mhm.” Your dirty talk is breaking him down as all he can think of is making you scream his name.

He closes his eyes again and tries to focus as your pussy squeezes him. He feels your hand fall on his face gently and caress his check, sending a chill down his spine.

“Please fuck me harder.”

He opens his eyes and looks at the side of your face as your head is turned. His eyes travel down your body and shit…he can’t hold back anymore.

“You want me to fuck you harder?”

“Yes!”

“Beg.” He growls.

“Please, please pound my pussy.” The new tone in his voice is something you’ve never heard from him before, and it excites you.

König lets out a loud groan as he holds your waist so tightly, he leaves red marks as he begins to slam his cock inside you repeatedly. You’re not able to catch your breath as the sound of flesh hitting flesh and your wet cunt is all that can be heard. Finally a loud moan escapes your lips and you move your hand from his face to his arm and hold it.

“Oh- fuck! König!”

“Scream my fucking name.”

He rams his cock into you so hard you feel a slight bit of pain, but you know if you say something he will never do it again so you stay silent.

“König!” Your nails dig into his arm, his hand holds you tighter. He can feel your pussy begin to squeeze his cock as you begin to babble as if you forgot how to speak.

“Just like that, cum on my cock.”

You move your hand from his arm and twist your upper half more to look at him. His blue eyes gazing down at you with a primal lust.  Moving his hand from your waist, he grasps your neck and holds lightly. Your bodies covered in sweat; he doesn’t stop relentlessly pounding his sensitive cock into you.

Slowly you feel yourself begin to see that euphoric build up again, your vision going double as you feel light headed.

“God- König.” You manage to mumble out as your body begins to shake.

König moves his hand from your neck to lift your leg, shifting his body to be now on top of yours as you stay on your side. With your leg on his shoulder and his body straddling your leg, he is able to shove his cock in even deeper.

“I want to feel you raw Liebling.” He moans kissing your leg as he pushes in deep and pulls out slowly.

In a dick daze you nod your head, agreeing to no condom. Quickly, König pulls out and yanks the tip of the condom, tossing it off the bed. Slowly he begins to push his cock back inside. The textured feeling of your warm gummy walls welcoming his cock was too much. Putting his fist into the mattress, he begins to roll his hips harshly fucking you. You moan out in a scream holding on to his arm. He gives you no time to even catch your breath. König watches your eyes roll back into your head as your body goes limp, but moans still leaving your lips.

“Don’t tap out on my now Liebling, I’m not done.”

He sits up and drags your hips closer to him, wrapping his arms around your leg and not letting up on his pace. König doesn’t stop until you stop moaning. Breathing heavy, he puts your leg down and leans over you.

“Schatz?” He grabs your jaw and turns you to face him. You don’t reply.

He feels for a pulse, you’re still alive. He pulls out and runs to get a washcloth and runs it under cold water, rushing back to you. He places it on your head and caresses your face, gently kissing you.

“I knew I was too rough…” He whispers to himself.

A cocky little grin on his lips because he fucked you so hard you passed out. He will forever tell this story.

[barcaatthemoon]

sniffles || barcelona x teen!reader ||

you try to hide your sickness from the team.

you weren't really sure what was wrong with you, but you felt awful. it was the kind of sick that would have gotten you off from school whenever you'd been living with your parents. things were a bit different in barcelona with alexia, but you knew that she'd make you miss practice if she found out. sometimes, you wanted nothing more than a break from everything, but there was a big game coming up and you wanted in the starting squad.

that was why you had woken up extra early to make sure that you looked healthy. alexia was none the wiser, even if she had given you weird looks for wearing makeup. luckily, she didn't quiestion it much since a few of the girls had been teasing you for your very obvious crush on another one of the younger players.

"don't take too long getting ready," alexia warned as she let you stop into the locker room. unlike her, you hadn't just worn a training kit in. but you also didn't like to literally start things off by running some laps. you thought alexia was crazy for warming up for her warm ups, but you suspected that was what she needed to stay in such good shape after her injury.

"oi, little chick, are you feeling alright?" ona asked as she stepped up beside you. the team liked to tease you for being wound up for certain things, and your posture was one of them. you were a stickler for perfect posture, unless you weren't feeling well.

"just a bit tired, ale woke up me up earlier than normal." it wasn't a complete lie. you reminded yourself to stay sitting and standing straight for the rest of practice. occasionally one of the other girls would come up and ask if you were alright, noticing that you did seem a little off. luckily, you could pass it off as being tired, but as the day dragged on, it was getting more and more difficult.

your cover had nearly been blown in the gym during the day's lifting session. since you were trying to build up a bit more muscle mass, you trained with the keepers. you had counted on sandra being protective in the motherly way that she always was, but you hadn't expected cata to be keeping such a close eye on you.

"drop the weight down and step away," cata ordered. she had been spotting you on the squat rack. you were still in the lighter part of things and definitely shouldn't have been making the wheezing sounds that you were. "you know the rules. are you trying to hurt yourself?"

"what's going on?" if it was just sandra or alexia, you could have gotten away with claiming that cata was just being mean to you, but when irene joined the group, you feared the jig was up.

"there's something wrong with (y/n), she's wheezing!" cata exclaimed. alexia reached out to feel your forehead, but you ducked out of the way. unfortunately, sandra was able to grab you and irene placed the back of her hand on your forehead.

"she's warm, but she was also going really hard today at practice," irene said. she glanced over at alexia to help decide what they should do with you.

"she's sick, probably with whatever bruna had last week," cata said. you sent her a nasty glare, but the older girl was unphased by it.

"how do you feel?" sandra asked as she turned towards you.

"i feel fine, maybe a little tired, but alexia woke me up this morning. i'd like to finish my workout please," you said sweetly. cata scoffed as sandra let you go. sandra, irene, and alexia all kissed the top of your head as they apologized for interrupting you. cata was obviously mad at you, so you walked over to finish your workout with lucy and the other defenders.

at irene's insistence, you kept things lighter. you didn't notice cata telling alexia to keep an eye on you, so you had no idea that alexia was watching your every move after your shower. she cursed herself as the two of you got home when you let the facade slip a bit. it was obvious with your makeup washed off that you were not well. she should have listened to cata the first time and made you go sit down.

"what game are we watching tonight?" you asked from where you had already curled up on the couch. alexia sighed as she glanced down at you. it was usually a hassle to get you to watch games, and as much as alexia wanted the win, she also wanted to instill good habits in you as well. there would come a day when you'd go somewhere that she couldn't keep an eye on you, and it terrified her a little bit.

"we can start watching a game later, i wanted to talk to you first. how have you been feeling today?" alexia asked you. she made sure to use her gentle voice, knowing that you didn't do well wtih being lectured otherwise.

"well, i've been a bit tired, but otherwise okay. did cata really get it in your head that i'm like, sick or something?" you tried to make it as believable as possible that you were feeling fine. one pointed look at alexia had you mumbling out the truth with tears in your eyes.

alexia sighed as she pulled you into a hug and reassured you, "you're not in trouble this time, but don't do it again." you nodded with your head against her chest. you did start crying, and soon the tears turned into a pretty nasty coughing fit. alexia was quick to get up and get you a glass of water and some medicine. she took your temperature and texted jona whenever it came back way too high.

"i don't want to miss the game," you whined. alexia didn't seem to care as she tucked you into the couch. "i've worked so hard to get to play. please, ale, i want to play."

"if you feel better by the end of the week, we'll see about you subbing on. that just means you need to rest up until then," alexia told you. you'd do anything that she told you to if it meant that you'd get to play in the game. alexia seemed to know that because she had you spending the week watching all of the game film and taking notes that you could manage. whenever she had to be away, she left you in the care of olga, who definitely slipped you more sweets than alexia would ever allow and watched tiktoks with you on the couch for hours at a time.

[authorhjk1]

I hope its not much to ask but any chance you can make an Irene short pls? Her photos for her upcoming photobook is driving me nuts lol especially the one where shes lying sideways and looking at the tv.

You close the door behind you, take your shoes off and walk into the living room.

"You are still up?"

The love of your life lies on the couch in your shared apartment, watching TV. The room is just as dark as the night outside. You hesitate to switch on the lights, the blue shine of the screen illuminating your wife's gorgeous face.

"Of course I am."

It took her a moment to tear her eyes off the screen. But once she looks at you, her face grows softer.

"I always wait for you, when you work late."

"Yeah."

You lose your words, when you realize what Irene is wearing. Several years of marriage and you still can't help but feel like a stupid teenager when she looks this fantastic.

As she gets off the couch, the white shirt or dress slips down her frame. You can't really tell if it's your shirt or her dress, which she brought a couple of weeks ago. It's still dark. But you are disappointed nonetheless. It hides the beautiful curves of her hips.

"I left some of the food in the fridge, if you want me to heat it up for you?"

"I love you."

She smiles back at you, tiptoeing her way around the couch.

"Love you too."

She gives you a peck on your lips, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Once you are inside the bedroom, you quickly get rid off your suit and change into something more comfortable. After a quick stop at the bathroom, you enter the kitchen.

Your wife has already finished reheating the food she made.

"Thank you."

You lean over the kitchen table, kissing Irene's forehead.

"I'm just making sure you are not going to bed hungry."

You shake your head with a big smile on your face as you sit down in front of the meal.

What did you do in your past life to deserve such a woman like her? Caring, beautiful, loving, gorgeous, funny...

The list goes on and on.

As you reach for your fork, the dim light of the fridge makes the golden wedding ring on your finger shine. Irene wanted a fridge with a window in it, so it would be easier for her to see what she needs to buy, without having to open it everytime. Her own ring reflects the blue light as well.

How lucky are you? How is it possible that you are the man who was able to put that ring on her finger?

While you enjoy the food she made, you notice Irene looking at you. Her chin resting on her hand, her elbow on the table. A dreamy smile plays around her lips as she watches you eat.

"Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is Saturday, silly."

"Right."

Irene giggles as you focus back on your food.

"I thought we could do something together. Something in the city."

"What exactly?"

Irene leans a little forward, visibly excited and curious.

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

She pouts at you, leaning back a little.

"Is the cake already gone?"

You notice she didn't give you any as you reach the end of your meal. You don't have to tell her you enjoyed it. She knows it. She watched you the whole time.

"Well..."

Your wife gets off her chair and walks around the table.

"The cake is gone,"

She is now standing next to you, her hand resting on your shoulder. Irene leans down a little to whisper into your ear.

"but I'm sure we can find you something delicious to eat."

Irene kisses you right next to your ear, before walking into the bedroom. You look after her, watching how she moves with grace.

After quickly finishing the meal and putting away the dishes, you arrive at the bedroom door.

Irene is lying on the bed, her head resting on her hand again. She looks at you. But this time it's different. Gone is the loving, caring look she so often wears. It's replaced by a darker, almost evil stare. Her teeth slightly bite into her lower lip as she sees you standing in the doorway.

"Time for dessert, baby."

Despite her whispering, you can clearly hear her voice, dripping with lust.

You immediately get onto the foot of the bed. Grabbing her luscious thighs with your hands, you pull Irene closer. She is moaning already, knowing what's to come.

As you lean down, you suddenly realize that the pantyhose she is wearing is blocking your access. As if she read your mind, your wife shakes her head.

"Don't tear it open again. I have to buy a new one almost weekly."

"Now I know how you spend all my money."

Before she can protest, you rip the thin fabric apart. The loud tearing sound fills your bedroom for just a moment.

"Fuck."

Irene's head sinks into the pillow at your actions. Everytime you do this, she realizes she can just buy a new one.

Pulling her black panties to the side, you are greeted with her pink pussy. It's a meal you have had every day for the last years. A meal you can never grow tired of.

"Oh gosh, baby."

Irene moans as you tease her by kissing and licking her thighs. But when you are so close to her, you can't keep it up for long. Your kisses start to circle around her pussy. You tighten it further and further, until your lips finally meet her clit.

A loud whine echoes through the room. You can tell that Irene is biting her lips, trying to prevent louder sounds from escaping her mouth.

You indulge in your favorite meal. Your favorite dessert. Her most intimate part is yours.

Years of marriage have taught you everything you need to know about your wife. That includes her body. What she feels like, wherever you touch her. How she feels when you touch her. How to touch her. It's all in your mind. As if you wrote a book or painted a map. You know every inch of her skin like it's your own.

Small and quick kisses on her clit make Irene sigh and tug at her own hair her with her hand. Licks along her folds make her whimper, almost shake in anticipation. Burying your tongue inside her snatch makes her moan. Your hands on her thighs, massaging them, makes her melt.

The combination of all of the above makes sure that you give Irene the time of her life. Her flawless body is hit by wave after wave of pleasure. Her mouth can't seem to close and her hand eventually finds your head.

As she pushes you down, her nails digging into your scalp, you know that Irene is trying to fight a lost battle. A battle you've already won. From the moment you first placed your hands on her thighs a couple of minutes ago.

And the sound of victory is your wife's high pitched cry. Irene reaches her high, her mind going blank as her body betrays her. She has no control over it as she squirms and shakes on the sheets. Her wet pussy is dripping with her juices, leaving a wet spot on the sheets beneath her. Well, more like a puddle.

While she still rides out her orgasm, you plant kisses on her clit, almost apologetically.

With her taste still lingering on your lips, you quickly rid yourself of your clothing. Irene's chest rises and falls as she takes heavy breaths.

"Honey..."

She looks up at you. No other words are needed to express her gratitude, her satisfaction, her longing. Her eyes sparkle with lust as she silently begs you to fuck her.

Knowing how wet Irene becomes after her first orgasm, you align yourself with her snatch without any further preparation. You don't have time for that anyway. Her pussy captivates you, every time you catch a glimpse of it.

"Oh, god!"

Irene moans loudly as you push inside of her. Your hands on her thighs push them apart a little, making sure you have one of the most beautiful views anyone could have.

Your wife's gorgeous face twists in pleasure as you start to fuck her. Slow and deep at first, making her gasp, everytime you hit her cervix.

The lewd sounds her mouth makes eventually coax you into thrusting harder and faster. Irene's moans become louder, her thighs are a little shakey once more.

"You're so tight, baby."

You can't help but praise your wife. She is everything a guy would want in a partner and so much more. And her insides are no exception. The way her walls wrap around you, whenever you thrust into her. The way she squeezes your cock, making sure you feel just as good as she does.

The two of you quickly lose track of time. It was already late when you got home. Both of you were already tired from the long day. But this gives you new energy. New passion.

"More, baby."

Irene moans into your ear as she tears open old scratches on your back.

By now you've carried her to the window after finally undressing her completely. The torn pantyhose lying somewhere on the floor. Her bare back is pushed flat against the cold glass, causing goosebumps to cover her skin. Her legs are wrapped around your waist as you keep pounding into her with hard thrusts.

You kiss Irene's neck, making her moan even louder as you find her soft spot with ease. Her walls clench down on your cock at the same time. A not so silent battle about who makes the other person lose first. And losing is not bad at all. By no means. Losing has only one single outcome. Which is, cuming inside your wife. Something you would gladly do the entire day if you could. Something you did do every day, the entire day, when you were on your honeymoon.

"Babe..."

You gladly admit defeat as you keep pushing inside of your wife.

"Yes, baby. M-Me too..."

You feel Irene's walls squeezing and contracting around you. You plan on holding on throughout her orgasm, but you both know it's not meant to be.

With small "Love you"'s and kisses, the both of you cum at the same time. You feel yourself getting drained by Irene's contracting walls as she feels your load painting her insides. The two of you keep hugging each other in a tight embrace as you ride out your climaxes. Irene's usual squirming and shaking is reduced to a twitching of her stomach and abs, which welcome your cum inside her belly.

"I can't wait for another girl."

You chuckle into her neck.

"That's how you spend all my money."

She grins into yours, peppering your skin with kisses.

"Four times is the charm."

After showering together, you open the door at the end of the hallway. Both beds are occupied with two small figures, visibly sleeping. You kiss them both on their foreheads, before entering the room on the right. Your oldest is sound asleep too. She almost looks exactly like her mother.

"Sleep tight."

You whisper, before joining your wife in your bed.

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

Thank you for reading everyone!

I hope you guys enjoyed. I'm working on the next pieces, so stay tuned.

This got a little longer than I expected it to be. (As always)

I had to wait for the bus a little longer than usual, so I thought I would give this a shot.

Stay healthy!

[miley1442111]

transfer- s.reid

______________________________________________________________

a/n: intended for fem reader, but as always imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: how your sudden transfer forces certain feelings to the surface

pairing: spencer reid x bau! reader

warnings: none

______________________________________________________________

“It’s an executive decision Y/n, they are not asking,” Hotch sighed and you felt bile rise in your throat as the team stared in horror. You were being transferred to the Pentagon. “I know this will be an emotional time for all of us-”

“It’s not emotional, it’s a horrible idea,” Spencer said, his voice calm despite the storm raging in his mind. He wouldn’t be able to see you everyday? Bullshit. “She’s a crucial member of this team-”

“Spencer, they aren’t asking. Strauss expects her to be back in DC within the next hour,” he explained and exited the room. Everyone fell silent and Spencer raised his eyes to meet yours. You looked terrified and angry, he hadn’t seen you this angry ever.  

Not only were you one of the most vital members of the team, you were the thing that made all this shit just that small bit easier to deal with. What would he do now without your teasing jokes? How would he even want to go to work when he knew he wouldn’t see your tired smiles in the mornings? When would he remember to rest if you weren’t reminding him? 

And how would he be able to tell you he was in love with you when he didn’t see you everyday?

“I-I’ll… I’ll go get my bag,” You sighed, accepting your fate and leaving the room, Spencer trailing behind you. 

“Y/n!” He called after you. “Wait, I-I’ll come with you to grab your things,” He internally kicked himself for not thinking of something better to say. When he caught up with you outside the building, he could see the tears falling from your eyes, even in the darkness of the night. 

“I don’t want to leave,” You sniffled. “I told them I didn’t want a new position, I told them that I was h-happy here, that I want to be h-here.”

Spencer took you in his arms, letting you cry into the side of his neck. Had the circumstances been different, he would’ve over thought about the fact that you were so close to him. So close that he could smell your hair, so close that he could feel your soft skin on his, so close that he was very much enjoying the way you clung to him. 

“I mean… I don’t have any say? T-there’s so much more I wanted to do… I- I had this whole plan-”

“It’s ok,” he soothed. “You’ll do great things at the pentagon-”

“Fuck the pentagon!” You exclaimed, pushing him off of you. “I wanted to… I wanted to tell you for so long, a-and then the moment never seemed right, a-and I just assumed I-I’d lost m-my chance and I’m was sure you were already s-seeing someone so it didn’t even matter but then we g-got even closer a-and-”

Spencer’s heart was beating out of his chest, were you trying to say what he thought you were? “What are you trying to say?!” He shouted over your rambling, stopping the pacing you were doing in front of him. 

“I’m in love with you!” You shouted back. Spencer stood there, stunned, as you anxiously waited for an answer. You got one in the form of the grin on Spencer’s face. One of his hands reached out and grabbed your waist, while the other cupped your cheek, pulling you in to kiss him. His lips against yours were electric. You were relieved that he felt the same way and you were ecstatic that he kissed you.

“I’m in love with you too,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away. Your hands rooted themselves in his hair as he kissed you again, only pulling away when the rest of the team cheered from the door. 

You two were met with congratulations and cheers, happy that the two of you had finally told each other how you felt. 

You walked onto the airstrip, Spencer’s hand in yours, not even scared for your new role. 

You had Spencer, what else did you need?

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, obx+)

[spaceman-earthgirl]

“Did you see this?” Lena asks, holding her phone out towards Kara. “It’s about your cousin.”

Kara’s instantly worried. If there’s a news article about Clark, there’s only two things it could be. One, he’s been in a big fight or something else dangerous has happened, or if it’s about Clark, and not Superman, then that could only spell bad news for Clark and his secret identity.

Kara’s heart actually stops for a moment when she sees “Clark Kent” in the headline, but lets out a sigh of relief when she realises it’s not a Daily Planet article, but an article from an online gossip magazine.

Lois Lane and Clark Kent, Metropolis’s Hottest New Couple?

Kara quickly scans the article, which is nothing but gossip, and two photos, one of Clark and Lois holding hands, another of the couple leaning close at a restaurant.

Kara smiles as she hands the phone back to Lena. Despite the lack of privacy some papparazi have, Kara is happy for her cousin.

“So, it’s true then?”

Kara nods. “It is. Clark called me last week. He was so happy they’re soulmates. Anyone with eyes could see they belong together but it’s nice to have it confirmed.”

And nice for Kara too. She’d always wondered if it was still possible that she could have a soulmate, one not from Krypton.

Turns out it is.

“That’s-“ Lena cuts herself off. “Wait, confirmed? What do you mean?”

Kara’s eyes widen as she realises her slip. She’s thought about telling Lena in so many different ways, at so many different times. But fear has always stopped her. What if she told Lena the truth, what if they kissed, and she finds out Lena isn’t her soulmate?

Kara’s never felt this way about anyone before, doesn’t think she could ever feel like this about anyone else either.

“I…do you believe in soulmates?” Kara asks, stalling slightly.

“No.” Lena replies. “Or I didn’t, until you just implied that soulmates are real.”

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

Kara sighs. There’s no getting out of this. “They’re not real, at least not on Earth. Or not usually. Lois is the only human I’ve seen or heard of that has a soulmate. Clark and Lois are soulmates. All Kryptonian’s have one.”

“Are you…” Lena narrows her eyes. “You’re being serious?”

Kara nods. “The legend goes that Rao picks your soulmate, the person whose soul matches yours, the one most suited to you. But he doesn’t tell you who it is, you have to find that person yourself.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, they just find each other.” Kara had lost hope, with no one but her cousin left on Earth. But then she’d found Lena. Even before Clark had told her about Lois, she’d wondered if Lena could be her soulmate. “And then after your first kiss, a mark appears on your skin with their name, and that’s how you know they’re the one.”

Kara can see Lena’s mind working. “Does that mean Clark and Lois now have the other’s name written on each other?”

Kara laughs. “Yes. It was actually pretty funny when Clark called me, he’d had to explain to a very confused Lois why she now had a tattoo of Clark’s name.”

“So, you have to kiss someone to know?”

Kara nods. “I’m not sure why. I think it gives you a chance to get to know someone before you find out you’re destined to be together.”

“Have you found your soulmate?”

Kara shakes her head, though it feels wrong when she’s pretty sure her soulmate is right in front of her. Not that she knows for sure. “Not yet.”

“Do you wonder, every time you kiss someone, that they’ll be the one?”

“Yes and no. When I was younger, I’d hoped, just to prove I wasn’t alone. Sometimes I know they’re not the one, but now I know there’s someone out there for me, and I just have to wait.”

Lena lets out a little laugh. “I guess it puts more pressure on a first kiss, like there isn’t enough already.”

Kara laughs too. “It really does.” She can’t help but wonder, that without this extra pressure, whether she would have already told Lena how she feels.

“Who knows,” Lena says, still smiling. “It could even be me.”

Kara chokes on nothing. The hand that appears at Kara’s back, soothing up and down as Kara tries to catch her breath, doesn’t help at all.

“It…it could be,” Kara finally manages to get out.

Lena looks amused, clearly enjoying Kara’s struggle, and Kara suddenly wants to do nothing more than kiss that look off of Lena’s face.

Lena shrugs. “We’ve never kissed so you never know.”

“I haven’t kissed a lot of people,” Kara points out unnecessarily. “It could be any of them too.” She’s not sure why she says it, except for the fact she wants to point the focus of the conversation away from Lena and kissing.

“Well, you’re not getting any younger, you need to start crossing people off that list.”

Kara rolls her eyes and suddenly everything feels back to normal, she’s just talking to her best friend, the person besides Alex she trusts most in the universe.

“Are you hungry, we could-“ Kara starts, assuming the conversation is over, at least for now, until Kara can work up the courage to tell Lena how she feels, but Lena isn’t done.

“Kara,” Lena cuts in, looking suddenly serious. “I don’t know if I’m way off here but I know I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about this.” Lena reaches out and takes Kara’s hand and Kara’s breath catches in her chest. “Please tell me you feel this too? Please tell me I’m not the only one who’s fallen in love with their best friend? I didn’t even believe in soulmates before today but I’ve always believed we found each other for a reason, that we belong together. And maybe this is why.”

There are tears in Lena’s eyes by the time she finishes talking and Kara’s own heart is racing as she reaches up to catch a tear before it spills down Lena’s cheek.

And then she doesn’t even think as she leans forward, capturing Lena’s lips in a kiss she’s dreamt about too many times to count.

Lena’s breath catches as their lips meet and now Kara’s crying too as Lena’s hand grips her shirt, holding her close.

The kiss is brief, only because Kara’s forgotten something crucial and she has to tell Lena. “I love you, too,” Kara says as she pulls back, the words brushing Lena’s mouth as she does.

Kara’s whole body is on fire as green eyes meet hers, still so close. Kara doesn’t even need to look down to where her arm is tingling, to know that Lena’s her soulmate. She’s pretty sure deep down she’s known since she first laid eyes on her.

With great effort she does look away from Lena, only because she wants to show Lena the words now written on her skin.

Kara pulls up her sleeve and there it is, in black ink, undeniable against her tan skin. There is Lena’s name, and Kara is crying again.

“That’s going to be tough to hide,” Lena says, and it’s meant to be a joke but it comes out too breathless to be anything but awe. Lena lifts her hand, runs her fingers gently over the name, and Kara’s knees go weak.

“Do you…” Kara asks, because now she wants to see it, needs to see her name on Lena’s skin too.

Lena turns, and she must have had the same feeling as Kara because she lifts up her shirt and there it is, low on Lena’s back, ‘Kara Zor-El’ written clear as day.

Kara reaches out, thumb ghosting over the spot her name is written.

“It is there?” Lena asks, voice filled with such hope that Kara places her hands on her arms, spins her gently until they’re facing each other again.

“Yes.” Kara lifts her hands, cups Lena’s cheek, thumbs catching more tears as they fall. They both know they’re happy tears. “I love you,” Kara repeats, because she can now. She’s going to say it so many times, Lena will get sick of it.

“I love you, too,” Lena repeats, her smile so bright Kara’s knees go weak again. And then Lena leans forward and kisses her again and Kara is lucky she manages to stay upright because Lena’s mouth feels so right and perfect against her own.

---

Two days later, in the CatCo gossip column, there’s a picture of the two of them kissing in Noonan’s, with the title:

Lena Luthor and Kara Danvers, National City’s Hottest New Couple?

[calicoheartz]

Write one where Paige & reader get into a heated argument lots of angst happy ending

From Ashes to Affection ; Paige Bueckers ﹒⟢

꣑୧ — summary | you and paige were known for your self-deprecating jokes towards one another, but after tension builds and threatens to boil over, will your relationship spoil or will you manage to save it?

wc ; 662

— warnings | swearing , arguments , lots of angst but w a happy ending (yay) massive tw : self deprecating joke about anxiety

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : ooof I feel like I haven’t been writing as much angst lately so it was very fun to write ! enjoy ◡̈

After a long week of final exams and nights filled with books sprawled across your desk, you took the opportunity to spend the eve of the incoming weekend with your girlfriend Paige.

Your differing schedules and commitments had left tension to build for weeks, simmering beneath the surface until it finally boiled over. It started with a harmless comment, a joke that was meant to be lighthearted, but it was taken the wrong way, triggering a chain reaction of hurtful words and unspoken frustrations. 

Paige knew how much you struggled with your anxiety, it was something that had plagued you for a majority of your life. You two had always made self-deprecating jokes at one another, the atmosphere was light and loving, giving you hope that maybe you were moving past the rough patch of your relationship. All until…

“Well thank god having bad anxiety isn't an olympic sport because you'd definitely have a gold medal.”

You felt your heart sink, you felt tears threatening to spill out of your eyes, due to the shock at the words the blonde had just said.

"I can't believe you would say that, Paige," you said, your voice filled with hurt. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Paige's expression hardened, her own hurt turning into anger. "Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought," she retorted, her words cutting like a knife.

The argument escalated quickly, both of you saying things you didn't mean, words fueled by hurt and anger. Before you knew it, Paige was storming out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered remains of your relationship.

You packed a bag, leaving your promise ring on the bedside of the blondes bedside table, and headed towards your best friends house in order to calm down. 

Days turned into weeks, and despite your best efforts, the rift between you and Paige only seemed to grow wider. You missed her more than words could say, missed the way she would smile at you, the way she would hold you close when you needed comfort. But you couldn't bring yourself to reach out to her, to try and mend what was broken.

And then, one day, you received a letter from Paige. In it, she poured her heart out, apologizing for her part in the argument, for the hurtful things she had said. She admitted that she missed you, missed the way things used to be between you.

Torn between anger and longing, you found yourself faced with a choice. Could you find it in your heart to forgive Paige, to try and rebuild the trust that had been shattered? Or was it too late for the two of you, the damage done irreparable?

With a heavy heart, you penned a response to Paige, laying bare your own feelings and fears. You admitted that you missed her too, missed the way things used to be. But you also expressed your doubts, your fear that history would only repeat itself if you were to reconcile.

Weeks passed, and as the days turned into months, you found yourself thinking more and more about Paige, about the possibility of a future together. And then, one day, you received another letter from Paige, this time with a different tone, a tone of hope and determination.

"I understand if you can't forgive me, can't trust me again," Paige wrote. "But I want you to know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, to prove to you that I've changed. Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read Paige's words, words filled with sincerity and love. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, you still loved her too. Taking a deep breath, you picked up your pen and began to write, ready to take the first step towards healing and forgiveness.

sorry for the short post my loves !! ive been super burnt out from writing and have been suffering from writers block so I hope y'all enjoyed this one <3 as always, thank u sm for reading !

[rootbeerworshiper]

Through the Window

summary: An incident causes you to change schools your senior year. Although your expectations for another bad school year are low, a boy through the window changes everything.

warnings: mentions of bad relationship between parents

a/n: soooo i said i was taking a break and now im writing a series… but! so excited for this it’s been sitting in the drafts for a while and i finally have the motivation. enjoy!

love, sienna <3

I rub my face, the pads of my fingers grazing over my shut eyes as I let out a sigh. To say I was completely exhausted would be an understatement.

The thirteen hour drive in order to get here drained out about every ounce of energy I had stowed away. Sitting in the backseat while my parents give each other snarky remarks, constant bickering on the “correct way” of arriving to our destination.

Moving halfway across the country senior year was not going to be easy, I know this, but part of me had hope.

A chance for a new start.

The fresh Somerville air fills my lungs as I pick up a cardboard box and walk into my new house, ignoring my parents completely on the way to my new room as I place the box on my bed—well my mattress, seeing as we haven’t unpacked everything and i’m living the first few days without a bed frame.

This room was definitely a lot different than my last, off white paint covering the four walls around me and a large window with a long cushioned seat below it. The wood trim reminds me slightly of my old house, like a small piece of it is here with me even though i’m so far away.

I plop down on the mattress, breathing out as my hands make contact with the cardboard next to me. I use what little strength I have left to rip open the packing tape that encapsulates my life, packed into a brown box.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, keeping the loose hairs out of my face as I lean forward slightly.

Given that it’s currently twelve in the morning, I don’t have any desire to fully unpack, just simply reaching into the box for a lamp to illuminate the undecorated room. The room I’m supposed to consider my own.

With the lamp being plugged in I’m able to turn off the overhead lighting, the warmth of the dim lighting immediately making me feel more at peace in this unwelcoming environment.

Somehow, Im expected to start at my new school tomorrow—being given absolutely zero time to settle in.

I don’t even bother changing, just grabbing my toiletries from my backpack to brush my teeth.

As much as I am tired, I also don’t feel completely ready to go to sleep and immediately start a new life, so I reach into the same box and grab out a journal and a random pen.

I opt for taking full advantage of the window seat in this room, curling up in the corner of the crevice, propping my legs up on the cushion before opening my journal.

It’s definitely a little… sad in here.

Journaling is not something I’m good at, but my therapist back home was very adamant on it so I gave it a go.

Once I start writing though, it’s easy to get lost in a trance, only focused on the thoughts in my head and the black ink on the paper in front of me.

This is before the darkness in my room becomes more illuminated by the house next to me, a bedroom light from across now being switched on.

I don’t want to stare, but I’m interested to see who my new neighbours are, so I look over.

My eyes are quick to focus on the light blue room, random sports posters hung up around as well as a few stuffed animals placed carefully on the bed.

Before i’m able to fully examine the room, a boy my age rushes in, slamming his door shut and immediately sitting on his bed, tension formed in his hands.

His brown hair is slightly damp, as if he had just came back from playing some sort of sport that’s caused the strands to stick to his forehead. He looks exhausted—both mentally and physically.

It’s clear he’s upset and soon enough tears start welling in his eyes, not that he lets them fall though. His hands constantly wiping the tears away before they’re fully formed, as if he’s trying to avoid crying all together.

I try and revert my gaze back down to my journal, although it’s hard to focus on my own sadness when his looks so prevalent.

I know what it’s like when it gets bad, and it hurts me to not be able to go over and help, but again, I have no idea who he is.

It’s as if he had no idea I was here until right now, his nails leaving his mouth as he walks towards the window, making brief eye contact with me before immediately shutting the blinds—blocking me out.

I feel a light sting to my heart, for whatever reason I feel obligated to make him feel better. I’m sure his smile is really nice and it’s unfortunate that a frown now replaces it.

I take that interaction as my sign to go to bed, setting down the half completed journal and plopping into bed.

————————————————————————

A familiar alarm rings loudly next to my ear, signalling for me to wake up. I groan, slapping at my phone until the noise stops.

Usually I’d fall right back asleep, but now that I’m awake I can’t help but let worry override my need to sleep.

A new school, a new city, with new people.

Fuck i’m terrified.

I had tried so long to be hopeful, to ignore my parents snide comments about our lives changing for the worse, but being optimistic is kind of impossible when everything in your life is going wrong.

Nonetheless I get up, a surge of energy pushing up my muscles when I think about what im gonna wear—I haven’t even unpacked my makeup yet.

Getting ready doesn’t normally take me long, at least it didn’t a few months ago, but now I’m constantly getting distracted. Picking at the few pimples that have entered my previously clear face and running my fingers along the eye bags that I can’t seem to kick.

I wish sadness didn’t impact the way I look.

I’ve always loved fashion, constantly playing dress up throughout my childhood with my best friends. Sometimes I still feel like I’m playing dress up, putting on a facade, except this time I’m alone.

I shake my head, forcing on a smile that hasn’t been real in a long time, praying that maybe this time will be different.

When I walk downstairs all I find is my mom sitting at the dining table, a laptop placed in front of her as she rests her head in her hand.

It’s clear she’s stressed so I try and avoid speaking, my bus is supposed to be here in a few minutes and I just need to pack lunch.

Because we just moved there’s very little in the kitchen for me to eat, nothing but yogurt cups close to expiry and healthy granola bars that have lived in our pantry forever.

It’s not an ideal lunch, but based on my mom’s tense shoulders and her scattered sighs, it’s best not to interfere.

I make note to remind my parents about my school lunches when they are in a better mood, although that mood for them hasn’t existed in my presence since the incident.

My hands grab at the granola bars, getting a handful and tossing them into my backpack.

I look to my mom once more, hoping to make her feel better. “Hey, everything okay?” I ask, placing a hand on her upper back as I look towards the laptop.

She rejects my touch immediately, turning towards me with a look of distain on her lightly wrinkled face. “Why would I be okay y/n? This town has nothing but cloudy weather and jobs that won’t hire me.”

My attempt to console her clearly failed, her sour mood overriding any form of kindness she could show me. “Really good pizza though.” I joke, referring to the takeout we ate late last night.

“You’re gonna be late to school.” She mindlessly replies, looking back at the job sit displayed on her computer.

She never was one for small talk, but it also wasn’t always this bad. I used to look up to her a lot, wishing one day i’d be just like her, but now I want nothing less.

I just nod with a tight lipped smile on my lips, choosing to slide my shoes on and throw my backpack over my shoulder.

Opening the front door I send one more look towards my mom who shows no interest in me. Is it weird to say you miss your mom when she’s right there?

I shake it off, stepping out onto the porch before coming to a very unfortunate realization.

Fuck.

If my morning wasn’t bad enough, my bus is driving away, the tail end of the yellow vehicle being the only thing I can see down the street.

I shut the door behind myself, my dad took the car and my mom is in no mood to find a solution for me, so I begin walking—not that I know where the school is.

The best distraction for me is music, so I plug in my headphones while simultaneously getting the directions to the school on my phone.

The morning air causes a wave of refreshment to wash over me. I can’t harp on the negatives of my life, especially when the trees are swaying in the wind and the sun is shining.

It’s a longer walk then I expected, but by the time arrive at school I’m only a couple minutes late.

I rush through the halls, mindlessly searching for the numbers that lead to my classroom. This is until I walk around the corner a little too fast and immediately bump into someone. “Oh sorry, fuck I’m sorry are you okay?”

He laughs, not at me for once, a comforting laugh. “You’re good I promise.” He looks at me closer, studying my face. “Have I seen you before?”

I cough, clearing my throat. “Um probably not, I just moved here from Indiana so.” He nods his head, for whatever reason he looks incredibly familiar and I can’t figure it out. “Do you mind showing me to my class? I’m already late and I have no clue where im going”

He smiles warmly down at me. “Yeah I got you.” He takes my phone to look at the number displayed before beginning to walk. “You’re an AP kid?”

“Uh sort of. Just for english, I’m really bad at math and shit.” I reply, following him as he walks casually through the halls.

“Me too, I’m supposed to be in algebra right now but I can’t be bothered” he laughs slightly. “I think my brothers in your class, do you know a Nick?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “You’re a senior right?” He nods. “How is your brother also a senior?”

“Oh we’re triplets, we look a lot alike we’re just very…. different.” He replies, still joyfully walking without a worry in the world. It really must be nice to feel that way.

“Oh I see.” I say, nodding as we walk up the stairs. Walking around the school feels like the equivalent to running a marathon, especially on my lack of sleep.

He motions to a classroom with the numbers i’ve been searching for. “This is you.”

I smile gratefully. “Thank you.” I pause. “What’s your name?”

“Oh I’m Chris” He reaches his hand out for a handshake, a dumb smile on his face. one that I could really get used to.

“y/n.” I reply, returning the gesture.

“Well y/n you should probably get to class, that teachers kind of a bitch about people showing up late.” He advises, running a hand through his wavy hair. “i’ll see you around yeah?”

I nod, maybe too eagerly but it’s genuine. I just made a friend and I could not be more excited, even if I’m late on my first day. “I’ll see you.”

My hand hesitates slightly before ultimately twisting the door knob and entering the class. Almost instantly I feel all eyes in the room on me, the teacher looking more than unimpressed.

Great way to start the year.

The classroom is slightly bigger than my old schools. There’s light seeping in through the windows and the whiteboard is already filled with different literary devices.

I find peace seeing as there’s a large bookshelf at the back, I have spent more than enough money on books so it’ll be nice to read for free.

“Nice of you to show up” She remarks with a tight lipped smile, motioning for me to take a seat.

“Sorry I couldn’t find the class at first, I wont be late again Miss Harper.” I mumble, looking around for a place to sit and seeing an empty chair next to who I assume is Chris brother.

I walk over, an awkward smile on my face as I pull up a chair next to the boy. He seems all too uninterested in me, gaze dead set on the teacher as she goes over what to expect for the semester.

I lean into him slightly after setting down my bag on the floor, if he’s anything like his brother we’ll be friends in no time. “Hey are you Chris’ brother? He just walked me to class and you two look a lot a like so.” He just cuts me off.

“If you’re just another one of Chris’ many fan girls just know i’m not interested in being friends with you.” He throws me an annoyed look before resting his chin on his hands and looking back to the board.

I let out a quiet sigh, leaning back into the uncomfortable school chair and crossing my arms. I’ve immediately lost all confidence I mustered up. I guess Chris was right when he said they were different.

Luckily the class went by quickly and I was able to find the other two classes easily enough. What I couldn’t stop thinking about was lunch, and as the bell rings it consumes me.

At my old school, most seniors didn’t stay at school for lunch, being in the cafeteria is generally not a common occurrence for anyone old enough to drive.

This leaves me stuck. Sitting alone in the cafeteria sounds awful but so does any other option, especially because I don’t even have a lunch today, the granola bar wrappers sinking into the bottom of my backpack.

I walk out of class, taking in all the new places and people before settling on a familiar face that’s smiling back at me.

Thank god.

The short walk through the chaotic hallways is not enjoyable, I’m practically ran into twice on my way towards Chris.

“What’s up y/n? How was your first day so far?” Chris asks. “Was Harper a bitch?”

I let out a breath, one of literal relief as a real smile enters my lips. The first in a while. “It was good mostly, I met your brother in my english class.” I reply, now walking beside him through the crowded halls.

It’s admirable how nice he’s been to me since the beginning, that’s not treatment I’m used to receiving from people, especially not at school.

“How awful was he? On like a scale from one to ten.” He jokes, waving to random people in the hallway that must be his friends. I had zero idea he was so popular around here.

“Out of respect to you I’ll choose not to answer that.” I reply. “He could be worse though, trust me.”

Before he can reply to me he catches the eye of his brother and a girl who I don’t recognize. “Are you coming for lunch?” Nick asks Chris, purposely avoiding eye contact with me.

“I think i’m gonna go with y/n today, maybe tomorrow though.” Chris replies looking down at me with a reassuring smile.

This only earns an eye roll from Nick. “How many girls are you going to ‘take out for lunch’ and then end up bringing home?”

Chris scoffs, but I try my best to stay out of the sibling drama. Part of me just hoped Chris didn’t only speak to me because he wanted to take me home. I just wanted a friend.

“It’s so not like that but you think whatever you want kid.” The longer haired boy replies, now walking towards the back doors.

I follow beside him until we make it outside, the sun now beating down on us but the small gusts of wind making the september heat bearable. “I’ll take you to my favourite place.” Chris says, head still up as he continues walking at a leisurely pace.

I’m not sure where this favourite place will be, but it’s not like I have any other option.

The walk is short, comfortable silence filling the space between us as we approach a large tree in the field behind the school. “Isn’t it nice here?” He asks, sitting down next to the stump, back resting against the bark.

“It’s definitely a tree!” I reply sarcastically, still moving to sit across from him in the grass.

He pulls out a ziploc from his bag, containing a sandwhich that was very obviously made by him. I throw a slightly judgemental look at the messy sandwhich only earning a smile in response.

“What? You don’t think I’m a pro chef?” He asks, taking a bite but keeping his eyes on me.

“No i’m just really jealous of your artistry with that pb and j.” I joke, leaning my hands down onto the spiky grass.

“Tell me about yourself.”

If only it were that easy to just speak about myself. I usually avoid it if I can, instead paying more attention to everyone that surrounds me.

“That’s very vague, I don’t know if I have anything interesting to share.” I reply sheepishly, trying desperately to choose the right words.

He lets out a breath as he finishes the last of his lunch. “You’ve got something I know you do. a mysterious pretty girl from Indiana wandering the halls of a new school. That’s already interesting.”

The compliment takes me aback, reminding me too much of the people who would call me that in my past. “Are you hitting on me Chris?”

He laughs as if it’s the most outlandish thing I could ask. “Definitely not. I mean not because of who you are, you’ll be fine pulling at this school. I just have my eyes on someone else at the moment.”

“Yeah? And who’s that?” I inquire. It’s easier knowing I can speak to him without there being a different motive.

The last thing I want out of this school is to be seen as meat for people to enjoy watering their mouths at.

When I was younger I had so much hope that I’d find someone who wants me for my personality, at the time that meant someone that shared my love for Gravity Falls but now I just want to be admired for what makes me different. I wish that wasn’t so impossible now.

What I notice right away, is how his face lights up at the thought of her. A smile creeping onto his face as he searches for the words he needs.

It’s subtle, the only reason I’ve noticed it is because I tend to observe people. But it’s sweet how easily his cheeks cast a flushed pink at the mere thought of the person he admires.

“Remember that girl that was standing with Nick?” I nod. “It’s her.”

“So why does Nick seem to think you’re a man slut?” I ask, maybe more abruptly than he was expecting.

“I try to distract myself with other girls. Which, I know is wrong, but if I only focus on Olivia then it gets a little depressing.” He admits, now averting his gaze away from me at the uncomfortable conversation.

“Why couldn’t she be into you back? Have you tried telling her how you feel?” I ask, prying away slightly at his feelings. I’m genuinely just curious as to how someone like Chris isn’t able to confess how he feels.

“It’s different when it’s someone I actually like. When it’s other girls it doesn’t really matter as much to me because it’s not her.” Chris replies. “I wanna be done with this sad conversation though, anyone caught your eye here?”

It’s silly to me that Chris seems to think I was focused on dating on my first day here. That was genuinely the last thing I was thinking about.

Nonetheless a face immediately comes to mind, just not one I saw at school. “In what world did I have time today to scope?”

“Well I don’t know, figured you’d be bored during one of your smart people classes.”

“The last thing I need is another boyfriend, that didn’t end well for me.” I reply. I’m not sure what it is that’s making me open up so easily to him, but it feels safe.

“Guys usually suck, I’m one of them. I just need to make it my mission to find you a guy that doesn’t.” He smiles, playfully punching my arm to bring the mood up.

He’s definitely good and making people smile, but it didn’t work on me all that easily when I think about myself in a relationship.

“I’ll make it my mission for you to confess to Olivia, then we’re even.” I suggest, reaching my hand out for a shake.

“Deal.” He shakes my hand in return before checking the time on his phone. “We should head back in now, you’ve been late enough times today.”

I roll my eyes at him, standing up and bringing my bag up with me.

A random car from the parking lot honks at Chris, a car full of guys laughing as if making a loud noise with their truck is the funniest thing in the world. “Are you popular or something?” I ask, now walking back to the school.

He laughs at that. “I just play hockey, it’s a big thing here.”

I nod slowly, processing the new information. “I know fuck all about hockey to be very honest.”

“Well as long as you’re my friend you’ll know all about it, i’m trying to be D1 next year.” He says, now opening the door for me and allowing me to walk in ahead of him. “Do you play sports?”

I let out a small sigh, once again being reminded of Indiana. “I used to in my old town, I was pretty good too.”

“Really? What position?” Chris asks, keeping his attention on me as we walk together despite the many people looking at him in the halls.

“Outside hitter. I really love it but had to stop because-“ I stop myself, realizing just how easy it is to share everything with Chris. It’s more dangerous than it is charming. “Yeah I had to stop.”

He doesn’t push, even though I can see the look of curiosity on his face. “You should play at our school, the seasons coming up.”

“I’m not sure if that’s the best move. I’m new here and I don’t exactly wanna be doing anything to stand out. Easier to just sit back and observe.” I reply honestly, still taking in all my new surroundings.

“Is that what you do all the time?” He asks, a hint of pity lines his words. Pity has never been the goal, quite the opposite actually.

I place a faux smile on my lips, looking up at him right before we have to part ways to our respective classes. “Maybe this year will be different. I’ve made a friend on the first day which is already out of character.”

“I’m happy to be your friend, you’re easy to talk to.” He says, a sappy undertone to his sentence.

An unfortunate fact about me is my inability to accept words of affirmation. I’m not sure why it’s this way, but I think deep down it’s because I could never say those words to myself, so it’s impossible to fathom other people saying it.

My face literally cringes at his upfront lovingness, but I attempt to not look too disgusted. “I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

Chris lets out a small laugh in reply. “My numbers in the side pocket of your backpack by the way.”

“You’re lucky I know about your girl bc you are the most flirty person out there.” I say slightly louder as I turn my back to him, now focusing my attention to getting to class on time.

For the first time in a long time everything feels okay again. I’m not stressed about what everyone’s saying about me and I don’t have eyes glued on me.

In a way it’s nice to be invisible.

a/n: this chapter ended up so long but that’s okay!! let me know your thoughts and feelings i missed u guys <3333

taglist: @lolasnoww-blog @tastesousweet @ivypoison @disturbedwoodelf @sturnswift @junnniiieee07 @ellie-luvsfics @madsdogst @justlivinglive @sluttycupsworld @flowerxbunnie @mbsbaby @sturniolossmut @lustfulslxt @69isabella69 @dracoflaco @mattslatinagf @raekensluver @worldlxvlys @greatooglymooglyyy @breeloveschris @st7rnioioss @imwetforyourmom @immuneweed @its-jennarose @taco-taco-posts @luverboychris @gamermattsgf @mattscoquette @nervoussagittarius @sugrhigh @jnkvivi @sturnsmia @watercolorskyy @luv2matt @deadxrx @sturniclo

[lure-of-writing]

His little Sister: I'm sorry

Summary: The mating bond between you and Azriel has been revealed and he isn't sure if any apology will ever make up for the hurt he has cause you.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: none that I know of

Authors note: Guys I just got my nails done so if there is typos it's because I'm not used to typing with daggers on my hands. But anyways that's not what we're here for. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Azriel was screwed. Royally screwed. Even as the spymaster of the night court he had no idea how he was going to get out of this one unscathed. First and foremost there was you. You were the mosting important thing in this giant mess that your cousin just caused and making sure you were ok was his first priority. That is once you inevitably get all of the hurt and betrayal out of your system. He could feel your emotions barrelling down the bond and it damn near made him crumple under the weight of your hurt. Next on the list of casualties was Rhysand. And by the look on the high lord's face it was a mixture of pure unfiltered anger and the need to protect his little sister. Azriel can’t blame him, you look like you could either rip him to shreds and bawl your eyes out while doing so.

Rationally Azriel knew that Rhys would never really do anything to hurt him but the other part knew that Rhysand played dirty when it came to his family and it was some sort of unwritten rule that he would go to the end of the world to make sure you were ok. If Rhysand played dirty before he was about to get filthy now. This would not be the first time he stepped toe to toe against a high lord, specifically against Rhys, but this time would without a doubt be different. This time Rhysand would pocket away all of the years of their friendship and in turn he would fight Azriel like a traitor. He, without trying, had broken your heart and betrayed your trust. To Rhysand this was the ultimate act of betrayal. 

Only being one hundred years younger than your brother means all three males were also relatively young in the grand scheme of things. Rhysand held your tiny body against his. The three males had taken a break forming training in the mountains to visit you in Velaris. It wasn’t often Rhysand was allowed to leave the camps, much less often for Azriel and Cassian. But with the arrival of a new babe they had been permitted to leave. It became a tradition to visit the ever growing babe once a year. Somewhere in the chaos of training for the Blood Rite you had grown into a teenager. Cassian was sprawled out on one of the couches in the cabin and Azirel had taken his place in the chair that was unofficially deemed as his. There in a seat a little bit bigger than his own but yet still smaller than the couch Cassian claimed you were curled up against your older brother, peacefully sleeping.

Rhysand had always disliked the way things were run in the camps, oftentimes they made his blood boil but something changed in him the day you were born. Rhys knew from a young age that he would be a protector. A protector of his friends, his family, his people and his court. But he never knew that the most precious thing he would come to protect was you. He never wanted in the camps, walking amongst those who would take any opportunity to clip your wings or even kill you without a second thought. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do to stop your visit as your father deemed it necessary. 

Silence was light in the room. Occasionally there was a pop or crackle from the fire, the sound of clothes shifting against the couch from Cassian and the light noise of you breathing. With a heavy sigh Rhys rubbed his face causing both males to look at their friend in confusion. “Something on your mind brother?” Cassian's deep voice filled the once quiet room.  For a moment nothing was said as Rhysand just looked deep into the fire before once again sighing and rubbing his face before throwing his head back to rest on the couch. “What if I’m not capable of protecting her?” The two males looked at each other in confusion before turning their attention back on their friend. Everyone knew that the power Rhys possessed was quite frankly, insane, to put it simply. “Rhys, I think you're forgetting you are there, bud.” Once more Cassian's voice takes over the room. This time in a gentle laughter. “It’s not that I’m unaware of what I am capable of.” Rhys stops speaking as he looks down at your resting form laying against him. Gently he moves a piece of hair that had fallen in your face. “I know what I can do. What I am willing to do to keep her safe but I will not always be around to protect her and that is what I fear.”

“Being her brother is the greatest honor I have ever been given but what if I fail? What will it cost her? Just her being here possesses a threat to her life. Those males out there would not hesitate to clip her wings or flat out kill her. What happens when I am needed elsewhere and she is in trouble? Who will save her then? I know my mother is training her to fight but I never want her to be put in that position where she has to. Making sure she is safe, happy and loved is all I want for her. I never want her to experience the world we have endured.” 

Neither males have a sister but they do have the love of siblings for each other and they know the lengths they would go to for the other males. They may not know what it's like to have a sibling but they do know what it's like to love you. Since the day you were born they have done nothing but love and dote on you. If you tripped and fell and scraped your knees Cassian would scoop you up and cradle you until you stopped crying. Only then would he set you somewhere where he could properly clean the cuts littering your body and then take you for a treat to make you feel better. Azriel would help you with any of the boring assignments your mother would hand out. “I don’t even know what this means!” you would groan out in frustration before dramatically letting your head fall face first into the book. Luckly Az knew you very well. Without looking up from what he was doing he placed his hand palm up in the book and waited for the impact of your head against his hand. 

Finally once your head was in his hand, did he finally look up. “You may not understand it right now but eventually you will and you will be grateful your mother made you do this.” Groaning once more you left your head where it was. “Easy for you to say you're like a genius or something.” You grumble while Azriel lifts your head for you. Gently he pats the top of your head. “Maybe if you studied more you could be one too.” A mixture of a frustrated groan and sigh made its way through your lips causing Azriel to chuckle. 

It was safe to say that they understood what a light you are in the world. In their world. And each male would do anything to protect it. “You know we would protect her with our lives, right?” Cassian now sat up on the couch. This conversation was important. “We have known her since the day she was born. We have watched her grow and reach each millstone just like you have Rhys. We would never let anything happen to her. If it were my life or hers, I would happily give up mine. I’m sure Az feels the same way.” And Azriel did. “You don’t have to worry about her by yourself. We can share the worry Rhys. You know you can count on us. If anything ever happens to you, we will protect her just as fiercely as you do. You know that right?”  And Rhysand did in fact know that but there would always be some part of him that thinks only he will ever be able to do a good enough job at keeping you safe. 

Apparently Rhysand was right. Only he would protect you. Azriel had broken his promise and now he would pay. Next on his list of people to deal with was Morrigian. At the moment she was not a priority but eventually would be. First he needed to survive the night. 

If Azriel were to go back in time less than a week ago, he would have been more or less avoiding you. After his talk with Rhysand about the more interesting part of your relationship the shadowsinger thought it would be a good idea to give you some space, not wanting it to seem like he was trying to pursue something with you. Obviously that was the exact opposite of what he wanted but he was also keenly aware of your brother's disapproval of any male you chose to date. Azriel was sure he wouldn’t fare better than the others. On the other side Azriel truly had no idea how you would react to you being his mate and that terrified him. 

He hadn’t seen you much since the training incident with Cassian. As much as it bothered him to not be able to check on your healing himself he had Cassian right there basically giving me second by second updates. Which he did appreciate but since Cassian knew you were his brother's mate he was being a little over the top. Which is why Azriel was not expecting to see you on the rooftop for the daily morning training session. 

Az and his shadows watched from across the room as Cass ushered you back towards the house. That was until you saw him and course corrected to be right in front of him. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The hurt in your voice made him feel like a terrible person but he also couldn’t give you the real answer why. Not right now and definitely not right here. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” He knew he was whispering but he also knew there were more listening ears then just yours, mainly Cassians. Azriel watched as Cassian scooped you up and walked back to where he was herding you, just moments before you veered off on your own. 

As the shadowsinger and spymaster of the night court there wasn’t much, if anything, that made him nervous. The piercing stare of your gaze following his every move was definitely unsettling. But his male ego wouldn’t let him slip into that unflinching state of mind that he would usually find himself in when sparring. Now he was keenly aware of each move he was making while in front of you. His need to impress didn’t go unnoticed by his brother. Thankfully Cassian decided to have mercy on his soul and let him get in a few good punches as his repayment for when Cassian did the same to him while in front of Nesta. 

The daily sparring session was over sooner and also later then he wanted it to be. One part of him wanted to continue to impress you, even if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that you were even impressed in the first place. The other part of him just really wants to get the awaiting conversation over with. Azriel headed over the bench where his long forgotten shirt and water bottle had been previously placed. He had barely gotten in one drink of water when you appeared in front of him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” It was the same question that you had previously asked him before being dragged away by Cassian. And yet this time it made him even more nervous then the first time you had asked him. The last thing Azriel ever wanted to do was make you feel like he didn’t want to be around you. Even before the bond he wanted to be around you every chance he could get and you knew that. He needed a reason you would believe. A downfall that came with spending all of his spare time with you is that you were able to tell when he was lying better than anyone else in the inner circle. There was only one thing he could tell you that wasn’t the full truth nor a complete lie. Rhys wasn’t a fan of the relationship, or lack thereof, between the two of us and he needed to step back in respect for Rhysand. 

Thankfully the mother was on his side that morning because you believed him. 

Opening up his arms in a form of some peace offering he’s quickly wrapped in your arms. Even though hugging anyone who was sweaty was something that he knew drove you crazy you did it anyways and it warmed his heart. But watching you place your chin on top of his chest just about made his heart melt. He prayed that you wouldn’t be able to feel or hear just how fast his heart is beating, and it is not from the training. 

Oh how Azriel wished he could go back in time to just a few days ago. Hell he would even go back to when he was avoiding you. Truthfully anything would be better than what was currently unraveling in front of him. 

“How long have you known?” Azriel tore his eyes away from Morr to look at you. The look of heartbreak that painted your face was like a suckerpunch to his gut. He took a sharp breath in. You were always stunning in Azriels eyes but looking at you now was like looking like a fallen angel. As much as the poetic beauty was undeniable he also never wanted to see that look on your face again. He would do anything to make you trust him again. 

“I-” Azriel didn’t realize just how dry his throat was until he tried speaking. Actually now that he was focused on his body he was pretty sure he felt like he was going to throw up. Swallowing he takes another deep breath. A quick glance to his right reveals Rhysand with a raised eyebrow and barely contained anger. “I’ve known since the war.” Azriel always imagined this moment would be very different. Just the two of you in private. And it would finally feel like a brick being lifted off of his chest. 

But watching your reaction to his confession felt like the opposite. He watched as you blew out a heavy breath and grabbed the back of Morrigians chair for support. Looking at the look he watches a tear finally free itself and makes its way to the ground. Just as quickly as the first tear had fallen the rest had also followed suit. He watches as you shake your head and look at your brother for the answer of what you are supposed to do. The dining room had never been as quiet as it was in these waking moments and Azriel despised it. Even if he was the cause of it. “You’ve known for almost a year and you never told me?” The spymaster watched as you fought against the lump in your throat only for your voice to crack on the last word. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to let me continue to dream about the love I desired. Let me think I was never going to get the love Rhys and Fey have? You’ve known for months!”  Azriel sat unmoving as your betrayal turned to sadness and then anger. You had never raised your voice and yelled at him before but he knew he deserved every ounce of anger you threw at him. “You-you out of all people knew how I felt about mates and yet you held this from me. My mate! I-I-I -oh my god.” Time seemed to slow down in that moment as he watched you grab your chest in pain then collapse to the floor. He felt himself rise. Azriel wasn’t sure why, was it to move to the other side of the table and comfort you? Was it in shock? Fear for your breaking heart? He wasn’t sure. It was like slow motion as Mor swiftly twisted out of her seat and caught your limp body on the way down to the floor. Together the two females sat on the floor. Morrigian had wrapped her arms around your body and held you pressed against her chest as you sobbed. 

“Azriel!” That was the commanding voice of a high lord. The force of which Rhysand said his name and allowed his power to wash over him was the only thing capable of pulling his focus off of your crumpled body. Looking back to his right he notes that Rhysand has pushed the chair he was previously sitting in far behind him. It didn’t go unnoticed how Feyre made her way to you with urgency. The primal anger and need to protect his family also didn’t go unnoticed by the shadowsinger. He was about to get his ass beat. If not altogether killed. Rhysand may have been mad at Cassian for hurting you but he did go easy on him, even if it resulted in a few nasty bruises littering his body. Azriel knew for sure this would be nothing like that time. Rhysand had a look of death in his eyes and Azriel was sure death was waiting to greet him. 

“Uh oh. Yeah you guys may want to get out of here it's about to get ugly.” Cassian also stood from where he was once seated and began stretching. Noting Feyres' worry Cassian continued “Don’t worry I won’t let them hurt each other too much.” He paused, “Well I won’t let them kill each other.” 

Only after everyone except Mor and Cassian had winnowed away his Rhysand lunge at Azriel. 

Ever since learning that you were his mate one of his shadows followed you religiously. He never even told them to do that, it was just something they did naturally. His shadows always were ones to keep an eye on you even if you were completely safe. 

That's how he found himself in front of the river house. His shadows danced around him in warning of the two females sitting in the living room still awake at this hour. Without looking at a clock Azriel would assume it was around three in the morning. Gently he pushes the hard oak door open only closing it after allowing himself inside the quiet house.  Azriel knew he could make his way to your room without either one of the females knowing but he assumed it was better to get everything that could tear him apart over with while he was down. 

“I feel bad for her. I know what it's like when the other person knows they're your mate and you're left in the dark. But this is something else. If Mor hadn’t said anything would he?” He could hear the voice of his concerned high lady. “Do we know if she even still has a mate? Rhysand looked like he was going to kill him.” Nestas' voice that usually dripped in sarcasm was dry as bone. Stepping into the room he made his footsteps louder than he would ever step to announce his presence. A sharp gasp was the only noise that Feyre made as she brought her hands to cover her mouth. “Oh my gods” The scraping of the chair against the wooden floor pulls his gaze from the spot on the floor he found particularly interesting to see Feyre making her way over to him. Over her shoulder he could see Nesta taking inventory of the damage Rhysand caused. “Are you ok?” He shrugs off her question but allows her gentle hands to move his head from side to side.

“How is she?” Everybody knew who he was talking about. Feyre led him to the couch ushering him to sit down as Nesta answered “As well as you can expect.” Feyre had stepped out of the room to grab a pain relieving tonic “She just fell asleep a few minutes before you got here” she pushes the vial into his hands “Drink” she insists. “I never meant for it to go like this. For it to get this far without me telling her. I just was waiting for her to feel it herself but then I just kept waiting and waiting and waiting and the next thing I knew I was sitting at that table listening to Mor tell her. I promise I never meant to hurt her. You know that right? You have to believe me.” The constant throbbing throughout his body finally forced him to drink the tonic in hopes it could even touch the pain he was feeling. “I’m sure you never meant for this to happen az. But why didn’t you just tell her. Anyone with eyes could see that she already had feelings for you.’’

“I wanted it to be her choice. I would never force her to accept the bond. All I want is for her to be happy no matter what.” A heavy sigh fell from both females before the peaceful silence filled the room. Nesta was the first to leave in hopes of getting at least an hour of sleep before she needed to be awake for training. With a gentle squeeze of his arm Feyre stands above him “I Believe you Az. But you need to understand how hurt she is currently feeling.” looking up he sees not his high lady or Rhysands mate but a concerned friend. “I know I can feel it through the bond.” Feyre smiles sadly before stopping in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Go be with her Az. You both need it.”

The warmth of the fire was the first thing Azriel noticed upon entering your room. Although fae ran warmer than humans you were the rare exception. Unless absorbing heat from the sun or another person you were on average at least ten degrees colder than anyone else. A small smile found its away to his face to see the fire going. His own personal relationship with fire may be nonexistent but for you he would endure it a hundred times over. The next thing he noticed was your sniffling and quiet sobs. In three large strides he was kneeing besides your bed. “Y/n” you name was like a whisper of a prayer in a silent coven meant for worship. He watched as your eyes opened to meet his and listened as a sob racked your body. “I am so sorry baby” Quickly he raised from where he was previously knelt on the floor and climbed into bed with you. The move to place your body on top of his was easy but listening to the silent cries of your heart breaking wasn’t. “I never meant to hurt you I swear.” 

Eventually the tears raining upon his chest and was replaced with the gentle breathing of your sleeping form. Azriel knew he should sleep but he couldn’t help but admire every part of you just in case this was the last time he  got to hold you like this. That's why he wasn’t startled when Rhysand barged into your room, startling you awake. “I told you to stay away from her. I’m going to kill you.” He promised. Azriel didn’t take his eyes off of your brother as you raised to sit in between his legs. Rhysand could do whatever he wished but Azriel wouldn’t leave without making sure you were ok first. “Rhys don’t. You may be mad at him, but Azriel is my mate.” The bond had never sung in happiness like it did basking in the warmth of your acknowledgement.

Taglist

@kemillyfreitas @lana08 @willowpains @username199945 @tothestarsandwhateverend

@kylaisra @lilah-asteria @nickishadow139 @br0klynbby @blacktreacle22

@amysangel @mp-littlebit @mybestfriendmademe

@olive-main @mariahoedt @tele86 @marina468 @fangirlloza010 @kennedy-brooke

[appleblueberry-pie]

hear me out- yandere Miguel capturing us after we managed to escape from his lair (he kidnapped us) and us dealing w/ the consequences he put up for us 👀

Anyways thank youuu 🤭

I Thought You Knew Better Than This.

You've never thought your own home could look so ruined. He threw and destroyed everything. Your walls covered in claw marks in certain places with big and heavy pieces of furniture destroyed and laying on the opposite side of the room it's supposed to be on. You tried to make minimal sound as his hand on the back of your shirt continued to hurt you. Miguel hasn't stopped breathing heavy since he found you hiding in your little corner. He was seething. Absolutely furious with how the way things have turned out. It was supposed to be a simple day today. He drowns you in his luxury and money while he also indulges in the feelings of happiness that your happiness gives him. But when he was distracted and had his back turned, you disappeared without a second to spare, taking his patience and mercy with you.

Even though he wasn't wearing the symbol of his power, his spider-suit, something about him wearing just regular clothes while chasing you as if he was a predator catching his prey made your heart pang in fear. You said nothing and kept to yourself as he practically shoved you into the fully formed portal.

When you two were back into your very carefully decorated and designed (he would call this your real bedroom in your real home)bedroom meant for your comfort and safety, Miguel sat on the edge of the bed and had you planted on his lap. Your back touched his hot chest and your each of your legs were spread out with the outer sides of his own.

You swallowed thick bile and continued to keep your mouth shut. Your eyes roamed around your room in hopes of self soothing your erratic inner turmoil. Miguel grabbed the lower part of your face and turned you to make eye contact with him. His eyes held some sense of control within him, but you knew his heart was telling an entirely different story. You tried your best not to look away, knowing how he feels about eye contact.

"Por qué te fuiste?"(Why did you go?) His voice was quiet as he asked. He spoke to you as if you were a child, and truth be told, you really really didn't want to tell him why. But the last thing you should ever do is lie. Especially to him. "I just.....I didn't want to be with you." You silently croaked out the answer, guilt showing in your eyes, but he didn't care. "Hm? Don't I give you everything? Don't I take good care of you? Papi no te cuida bien?"(Doesn't daddy take care of you?)

You slowly nod and he shakes his head. "I don't understand. Help me understand why you thought it was a good idea to run away. Please." You stutter as you try to answer as his hand somehow sneaked past your pants to rub his cold fingers on your clit through your underwear. ".......B-because I-" "Because you don't think. You just act immediately on your thoughts and leave me to clean up your mess. This is why I make you stay home."

No matter how hard you tried to ignore his fingers, your body somehow managed to build pleasure from the constant stimulation he was giving you. "I'm sorry." He rolls his eyes and begins to take off your pants. "Yeah." You didn't want to think about what he wanted to do with you. You drop the pants onto the floor once they pool around your ankles and Miguel manhandles you over his lap.

"Wait, no, Miguel. I don't wanna do this, I'm not ready!" You feel his digits prod at your entrance as best as they could through the small and unnecessarily damp part of your underwear that he caused. "It never seems like you're ready for me to give you any of your punishments, mi cielo. But don't you think it's time for me to give you what you deserve?" You squirm under his hold, and he rightfully continues to hold you down.

"No!" He coos at you while staring down at your panties, shoving the piece of the cloth to the side to access you more easily. "Mmmm, I think I should." Two of his digits poke at your hole and your shame drastically increases as you automatically whine at the feeling, squirming in his arms.

You hated, hated getting sexual with him. It wasn't fair that he had more experience than you and could play with you like an instrument, making you sing every song known to man. He was so good at touching you, you never wanted to try it again since the first time it happened. Knowing how hard it was to not only ignore him, but also how hard it was to go against his word when you and him both knew he could make you feel so good in ways you didn't think was humanly possible.

Miguel looks back up to see your reaction as he inserts his fingers and you immediately go silent. His fingers thrust inside of you two, three times and then on the fourth time, curls on that spot and you squeeze your eyes shut. A very small upward curve makes itself known on Miguel's face. He softly praises you and continues working your pussy out. "There, we go, bebé. No se siente increíble? Déjame escucharte."(Doesn't that feel amazing? Let me hear you). Your hands tighten their hold on his thigh and you shake your head no. He suddenly pulls his fingers out, licking them clean before tossing you onto the bed, immediately taking his hard cock out of his pants. "Está bien, nena."(That's okay, baby) He almost seems to say his words excitedly, rushing to mount your ass, one of his hands on the small of your back to keep you in place, his head hanging to watch the hot tip of his cock slip between the plush doors to his only escape to reality, indulging in you entirely. "........Tengo otras maneras de hacerte cantar."(I have other ways of making you sing.) He was gone, too far gone to stop and it was all of your fault.

He lets out a shaky sigh, leaning down to connect his chest to your back, now moving the hand that once was restricting you so that his body can take that role, and instead putting his hand in your hair to move your face to meet his. You look up at him with those adorable glossy eyes, the tears threatening to drop down your pretty cheek only makes him smile. "You did this to yourself, baby. Don't be so sad. All you have to do is let me do the work, okay? Just relax." Then his lips connect with yours in a sweet, loving kiss that you fucking hated. But your opinion never mattered in these moments, and it especially didn't matter when he kept deepening the kiss, groaning into your mouth as you felt him very gently intrude your entrance.

His kisses. His kisses successfully distracted you. Those plush lips making you forget your words. And when his tip oh, so gently kissed that spot inside of you when he was fully in, you felt your mind begin to buzz and didn't even realize you stopped trying to resist. Miguel took that moment to let his hands roam your heavenly body. There were only a few times he got to do this, and sadly, it was only when he was having sex with you. He wanted to be able to touch you every day. He wanted his hands to touch your stomach, your sides like this every morning and every night. He wanted to soothe your mind and body like this every day in any way he could, outside of a sexual context, because he knows he could. He just wishes you would love him back so he can give you what you truly deserve. Own him like you truly deserve.

But then he remembers you telling him he wasn't shit, his love wasn't shit, you wanted him dead, wanted him gone, he was worth nothing and the only thing you'd enjoy would be him in the dirt. Dead, gone, cold and forever silent, out of your mind. But what about all of this he built for you? What about those mornings you'd be in his arms and immediately realized you cuddled him all of the damn time in your sleep? What about those times he had to help you cook, had to help you with those weirdos who cat-called you outside, had to help you with your stress? Your pain that he took away from you? Just like this?

What about that? "Nothing I do is ever enough for you." His hips slowly roll into yours and you focus on the sheets in front of you, ignoring his crazy talk. "Maybe I should try giving you all that I got. Maybe then, you'll learn to be thankful." He grabs you by the waist and pulls you to the edge of the bed. Both pairs of feet touch the ground, but you both remain bent over the bed. His hands grab onto yours and pulls them up, giving you no space or peace of mind to be able to ignore anything he's doing to you.

The soft rolling picks up speed and force, the jabs he makes inside of you increasing in pleasure with each thrust. You begin making sounds you can't control, and Miguel smothers you with kisses on your neck, praising your actions.

You hated him. You hated how you began leaning into his affection and relaxed at his words as he fucked the logic out of your mind. You hated how he numbed your tongue and continued to abuse your sweet spot constantly, knowing how sweet you'll be to him afterwards. And even when you grind back into him, all of your muscles tensing as he rubs at your clit during your orgasm, you still find a way to try and curse his name, only for it to come out of your mouth as if he was an angel from heaven.

Miguel pulls out to shoot his load onto the sheets, knowing the relationship you two have isn't something he wanted his child to see. It'd take a few more months.

You let him clean you, wash the sheets, feed you and put you to bed. And you couldn't find it in you to complain, let alone have any kind of opinion of what just happened. Not when you were this tired. Miguel decided to skip work for the rest of the night to sleep with you. You don't say anything.

You curled into his arms, knowing the next morning will just be a mental battle with yourself over giving in or continuing this exhausting fight you were putting up. His hand softly caresses your head, the other one holding your body close to his. He is whispering to you in such a soft and lovely tone, it just makes you wonder how obsessed he really is with you. Skin to skin. He lulls you to sleep and stays awake for a good while, just to embrace the moment he's never given. Then follows you into his subconscious.

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Now (PT. 1)

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Mild General Yandere(ish) Behavior, Mild Arguing, Awkward Tension(?)]

(Sorry, forgive and forget isn't an option anymore. Sort of proofread and lightly edited. If you thought the 2nd chapter was long, you're in for a little treat. A little more focus on Dick this time with some sprinkles of the others, and a bit of Tim in the beginning. Meeting some of the reader's friends now. The 2nd part is longer... and sort of where the 'real' stuff happens, but this part of the chapter is still important imo. Take your time reading this, and remember to take breaks!)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain, @d4mi3nn , @mindscape123, @143637-hrrm, @lilyalone, @ceramic-raven , @bruhfan-3 , @i-thirsty-boi , @yandere-enthusiast , @1mawh0re , @vanessa-boo , @agent-nobody-knows , @myeagleexpert , @waitingforanarchicaddiction , @mottysith , @simpingfor-wakasa , @imjustheretogetalif , @toast-on-dandelioms , @instantmiraclekryptonite , @luvr0cksadie , @littlefeather345 , @generosityheart , @emmbny , @sereinitysmind , @love-zami , @angstylittleb1tch , @kiiyoooo , @andrasia , @aenishas , @gyarukitti , @ash1 , @samohxt2-0 , @books-are-everything , @kurai-hono-blog , @veryrascalbiscuitbagel , @lavender-moony

@vikkus-main, @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhha, @iloveanimeandkpop7, @spacecerealbowl,

If you aren't tagged then I'm sorry! I may have missed you, or tumblr was being weird and it wouldn't work :']

Chapter 3 of this post. Chapter 2. Part 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

The night was young when everything went to chaos.

The streets were empty for a change, with no one daring to step outside. With those who once roamed them making an effort to quickly step inside, and wait out the rest of the night. Deciding to be more careful, and not tempt fate one too many times for once.

There was something different about tonight, that much everyone knew, but what exactly was going on was anyone's guess. Something was in the air that made it thicker, and harder to breathe. The atmosphere felt different, and weighed down on the city's residents. No civilian or thug was safe from the sudden change and the effects it had on Gotham. Not to mention that the vigilantes — the people who dared to protect Gotham during its darkest hours — seemed more focused than usual. 

Not in the way where they were more focused on targeting crime in Gotham, and getting rid of her more corrupted and infectious roots, but in some… other way. Like they were focusing on one particular thing, and ignoring everything else in the process. 

What that thing is, no one knew, but most were wary and cautious enough to not get in the way. Unwilling to find out what would happen if they got caught in the crossfire of whatever was happening.

However, this is still Gotham. Where some saw danger, others saw opportunity. So they tried to start something, thinking they could sneak right past the heroes of the city, and fly under their radar more easily compared to previous nights because of how focused they seemed to be on something else. 

Yet, just as the fire began to lit, it was snuffed out.

A heavy stomp stopped the flames from even daring to light, killing it before it could even think to rise. The stomp itself coming down much more swiftly and heavier than before, digging the thugs it hit into the ground. They, the vigilantes who dared to protect Gotham and their citizens night after night, were harsher that way. More brutal than the city had ever seen them before, and that was quick to kill off some sparks that were trying to light. They were quicker, faster, and hit a whole lot harder. As if just wanting to get things over with, and quickly move on. 

It was almost like they were rushing, and whoever thought that wouldn't be entirely wrong.

They just wanted to put all of their time and energy into finding you, but still had half a mind to take care of the crime in Gotham. Since, they'd have to deal with it anyway if they wanted things to go as smoothly as possible. Not to mention the off chance that some thugs could be messing with you, and so they'd get to swoop in and save you if they ever ran into such an altercation. Though, they didn't want to run around and just hope for that chance, so they also chose certain places and people to interrogate and search for. Taking out any and all thugs as well as minor criminals along the way.

As if anyone in their way was doomed from the day they were born, and dared to step foot in Gotham. As if they were cursed the very moment they dared to live in this damned city at all.

Nevertheless, some went after your teachers while others went to search through places you had been to for one reason or another. Whether it was for a performance or otherwise, it didn't matter. The fact that you had been there before was the only detail they cared about.

Finding you, and any information about you came first. Everything else was secondary.

That's why Tim was more focused on trying to find more… personal information about you. From your email, to where you lived, and who your friends are — he wanted to know everything. Even if he already had your phone number, you weren't responding or picking up whatsoever. Which wasn't exactly helping him calm down. 

If only he could track your phone somehow-

["You have any new information yet?"]

Jason suddenly spoke up, making Tim scoff and narrow his eyes at the computer screen he was looking at, as if it was Jason's face. 

How annoying.

"You've asked that question several times in the last fifteen minutes."

["And? Do you have any new information, or what?”]

Tim could only roll his eyes, having been scrolling through so many social media posts and pages, that he had lost count of exactly how many he had gone through or looked at. All he knew was that the total amount was quickly approaching triple digits.

Anything mentioning you caught his interest, and eventually he had found your public account — which, as expected, just held dates for your performances and when a new album or song of yours would be coming out. There were also a few previews of songs you would be playing at the time, had written, or both, and as much as Tim would like to listen to them all, he couldn't. Not right now anyway. He had to focus, for you.

… Though he'd keep it in mind for later.

"Besides more places where Y/n has performed, and when? No. Who could've guessed."

Jason scoffs, which almost made Tim smile a little but he quickly wiped it off his face, focusing again.

["Guys, let's not fight, alright? Just focus on finding Y/n."]

Dick suddenly spoke as well, the sounds of a fight slowly dying down could faintly be heard in the background.

["I'm not trying to start a fight, but y'know what would help with finding Y/n? Some fucking new information."]

["Language!" Dick sighs before continuing, "Look, just calm down-"]

["I am calm."]

["-and focus. We'll find them."]

Jason clicks his tongue, clearly getting upset. 

Tim couldn't say much, seeing as he's already a bit upset himself, but that wasn't really saying much either. All of them were getting progressively frustrated and annoyed, but it was the source of those feelings that were different for each and every one of them. You were a big part of it, of course, but their anger wasn't directed towards you — not for Tim, anyway. Never.

Rather, it's the factors that surrounded you, and maybe their hate and guilt towards themselves, and what they've missed in your life — is what really drove them to try as hard as they are now. They all want to see you, but they have their own separate reasons despite how similar they may seem.

["How the hell can you be so sure? They could be getting killed, or being tortured right now. We need to find them as soon as possible- and you'll never guess what we need for that to happen."]

Tim could practically hear the eye roll in Jason's voice.

["We're all trying to find Y/n as fast as we can! Have a little faith, they can fight-"]

["You don't actually believe that, right?"]

["..."]

Dick's silence spoke volumes, but some of them understood it better than others, because they feel the same way. Fighting in tournaments and in controlled environments is different than fighting out in the streets, and in Gotham no less. No amount of trophies or medals could change their minds on that. Nothing could.

["See? Even you don't believe it."]

[Dick sighs, "Look, let's just keep looking while Babs and Tim grab more information, alright? We have to be patient."]

["That's reeeal rich coming from the guy who rushed out of the fucking Manor, the very second he heard Alfred didn't know where Y/n was. Weren't you the first one to start looking for them in the city?"]

["Y/n isn't going to be dead in the next few minutes, Jason-"]

["You don't fucking know that."]

Again, a brief silence passes as Dick just sighs again.

["Grayson does have a point, Todd."]

Damian spoke up, causing Tim to roll his eyes almost instinctively. Just remembering that he was technically working with the youngest Wayne, made his mood worsen. Though he just pushed his annoyance to the side, and continued his search. 

If it were up to him, he wouldn't be working with half of the family, but that's the thing — he didn't have a choice. None of them really did. Finding you was just that important to them. You, in general, had become that important to them, and in just a few mere hours no less. Even if it left a few of them biting their tongues, and hiding their clear distaste for having to work with certain people. Still, they tried to work together to the best of their ability.

Tim just took a breath, still listening in on the conversation as he scrolls through even more websites and pages. A collection of photos and announcements leading him down a rabbit hole of posts, and finding some accounts that Tim was beginning to think belonged to your friends with how often they commented, the things they'd say, and how you'd respond. Even if the majority of those comments were on older posts, it was still something. So, he dug deeper.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that your personal account was private. Since, he found one of the accounts he thought belonged to one of your friend's, and they mentioned an account Tim couldn't access. Of course, he hacked it and got in, but there still wasn't anything of use from what he could see. The occasional pictures were nice, even if they didn't show your face too often, but they didn't give him any information he could use to locate you. Hell, even the account itself didn't have a set location listed, and nor did your email. With the only thing he could gather from posts you privated being that you were still in Gotham, at the very least.

However it did seem like you not only didn't post too often, but were careful about what you posted even on your private account. Not to mention who you posted about as well, and how you worded things. As if you knew someone would be looking through your posts someday, and try to find you. As if you knew Tim would be looking through your page, and try to find you by the little bits of information he thought you'd accidentally leave behind. However, all he found was mostly inconclusive with his current objective. The most he could gather was that you either lived in an apartment, were staying with a friend, or settling at various hotels and such just to have a roof over your head. Though not much else.

Sighing, he kept looking.

Just where are you?

["Oh yeah? How so, demon spawn?"]

["Jason-!"]

["L/n knows how to fight, they can surely take care of themself for a few minutes." Damian states. Cutting off Dick, and ignoring the name Jason used to refer to him.]

["Oh, so you believe that?" Jason scoffs.]

["I haven't been given a reason to think otherwise."]

["Right. Okay. So let's say that Y/n isn't dead for a second here. Do you know how many enemies they could potentially have? Or just how many people want them dead? They're known as a Wayne kid, and a musician too, apparently. Anyone could be after their head, or want to squeeze some money out of them for all we know. How are they supposed to fight against threats like that?"]

["And you think they aren't prepared for that? With how much time has passed, I doubt they'd still remain ignorant to such risks. Especially with the career they've chosen as well." Damian scoffs, as if frustrated and offended on your behalf, "No wonder L/n left."]

["Damian!" Dick exclaims, the youngest Robin's words clearly uncalled for.]

["What? You don't truly believe they just ‘ran away’. Do you, Grayson? Even Father doesn't believe such nonsense."]

Tim could only remain silent, but he had suspected as much as well. He didn't particularly enjoy agreeing with Damian, but for a change, it seemed that they were on the same page. 

After all, the more Tim looked, and the deeper his research went, the possibility of you having left, instead of ran away, was turning into a clear certainty. Not to mention that various details he noticed in different posts, seemed to indicate that you had no intentions of coming back home, further proving that thought to be true.

It wasn't really even through posts you made either, but instead posts your friends had made. Various pictures and videos shared on their accounts showing the pieces of your life that the family had missed out on. Showing Tim what he had missed out on. 

From parties and celebrations that were held for your accomplishments and your friend's, to events you attended with them instead of someone from your family. To smaller things such as various study sessions that were held, sleepovers and all the fun activities you did with your friends, to sneaky photos taken of you practicing, and how nervous you used to be behind stage — only to later show how confident and comfortable you had grown in more recent pictures.

He saw your life and nearly every part of it he had missed through someone else's eyes. Through the camera lens that captured how much fun you had, or just how happy you were during the time the photo was taken, or how calm you looked as you set up your instrument and prepared to play it, and how focused you became when you did. Videos that showed you getting into the zone, and displaying your amazing skill and talent that Tim never saw up until now. That the rest of the family never knew about until recently, just because they couldn't put a few seconds to the side to even try and give your music a listen. Just because they never made time for you, and now they were finally paying the price for it. Finally realizing what they had truly lost, and why the occasional, soft melodies that would play at night had stopped entirely.

They had pushed you away, and you left. That was the true reality of the situation.

Yet the others didn't seem to believe it, or maybe refused to. Seeing as no one dared to say anything else for a few moments.

["... Bruce?" Dick hesitantly spoke up, he clearly didn't want to think about it. Let alone consider it.]

A heavy sigh could be heard before Bruce said anything. 

["It's a possibility." His cold, calculated voice pierced through the air. It was less clear, but he didn't seem too fond of the idea either.]

["'Possibility'? Father, you can't be serious-" Damian tries to speak up, only to get cut off.]

["Exactly! Yeah! It's only a possibility, and we won't know for sure unless we find them." Stephanie pitches in, clearly trying to stay a little positive despite the situation.]

["Right…" Dick took a breath, "Well, what do you think, Tim?"]

"..."

Tim's silence said everything, and besides, he was much too focused on a particular thing he managed to find to really be paying attention anyway.

["... Tim?"]

["To think that Drake would be the only other sensible person here. Unbelievable."]

["Look- we don't know for sure, okay? But anyway, how did the interrogation go? Find out anything?"]

The rest of the conversation fell into the background. Tim would roll his eyes, but again, something else had caught his attention, seeing as he found a rather peculiar post.

On one of your friends' accounts, there was a post that showed you and two other people. All of you were wearing formal clothes, and stepping out of a theater that Tim recognized. The person taking the selfie had an arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he noted that they were the owner of the account. The other person was hugging your arm, and did bunny ears behind your head. All of you were smiling, and you looked so… happy..

Tim shook his head, and just focused on the individual hugging your arm. He didn't recognize them, not completely anyway, but noticed how their account was tagged in the post, and how it was an account he hadn't looked into yet. So, he went to their page and scrolled through their various posts. A particular detail already catching his interest as he scrolled down.

This person seemed to spend a lot of time with you…

Not that your other friends didn't, but this person seemed to have more posts with you in them, compared to the other accounts Tim has looked through thus far. There were many photos of you both hanging out, with some other personal posts sprinkled in here and there — but Tim isn't here for that. He's looking for you, so of course he ignored posts that didn't involve you.

Most of the photos showed you both hanging out and doing various activities together. With Tim's heart squeezing the more he saw, and further began to realize just how much of your life he had missed. Though he pushed it all to the side, just as he has been doing this entire time.

He could feel terrible about all the nights you spent away from home, and how no one noticed, later. He could feel guilty about all the time he's wasted not being with you when given the chance after he found you. 

Only then, once you were safe again, once you were home, would he allow himself to feel the full weight of all he hadn't done. Though only when you were home, would he let himself fully see and realize just how little of an impact he had on your life. How he may as well have just been nothing but a figment of your imagination with how often he was present, along with everyone else.

Though, for that, he had to find you first, and he will, so he kept looking.

Eventually, he did stumble across a curious post. One that not only confirmed his suspicions, but also gave the most important piece of information Tim could've found right now.

It was another photo taken without your knowledge, seeing as your back was facing the camera, and a bit of your friend's face could be shown. You were moving some boxes into a building, and your friend seemed to be covering their mouth with their other hand — as if they had been laughing and were trying to cover it up. The caption of the post said how you lost a bet, and now had to move in most of the boxes yourself, but how they'd help you if they saw you genuinely struggling. Only to put in parentheses how viewers of the post shouldn't tell you that. 

However, what caught his interest was the text on the image itself, and what parts of the building were shown.

['First day of moving in!!! Already making my bestie hate me by having them do all of the work♡ They're the best! Look at them go ♡♡'] The text in the photo read, with the building itself having a number, among various other details to suggest that it was an apartment building. 

Tim felt his heart leap to his throat. No way, had he really…? No. No, he couldn't get his hopes up, but he searched for the building by using the other photos your friend had taken that eventually got him a street name and number. It didn't even take him a minute to find the exact building that perfectly mirrored the one in your friend's photo. 

He tried to not work himself up too much, as he didn't waste any time finding the building's security system, and hacking into it. He didn't want to get his hopes up, only to end up disappointed. He didn't want to think about certain things or make up assumptions, only for them to turn up untrue. Yet, his heart rate increased as his hands began to shake despite his efforts.

No way, he thought. No way.

Getting into the system was a breeze, but Tim could hardly focus on that as he immediately looked through the building's security footage. He matched the dates of both the post and footage, and found you bringing in boxes, just as the photo had shown.

He watched you go into the elevator and took note of what floor you went up to, and eventually what apartment you walked into as well once you got there. Tim even observed as you took a second to yourself, sighing before going back down, and doing the process all over again — and even how you had to use the stairs at one point. Seeing as your friend had the bright idea to 'race' you, and see who could get most of the remaining boxes to the apartment in the least amount of time. It was a close tie, and your friend had won, but that's besides the point.

Tim went through other footage just to make sure he had the right information, and knew for certain that you lived in this particular apartment with your friend. For all he knew, you could've just offered to help them move in that day, so he had to be sure. He had to be certain. He couldn't afford to be wrong this time around.

Yet with all the footage he was able to review, and all the dates getting closer and closer to the current day, he was able to confirm it. He saw you walk in and out of that exact apartment on that exact floor, and leave and enter that exact building multiple times. With the amount of time that's passed, it made sense — even if Tim couldn't figure out where you had stayed between the few weeks you had presumably left the Manor and when you moved in with your friend, but that hardly mattered now. What did matter is that he found out where you live, and now had your address.

He almost couldn't believe it, staring at the document where he has been listing all of the information he's gathered from this search. 

Having just finished writing down your address, it all felt so unreal.

He's done it. He's finally done it.

"Holy shit." Tim cursed under his breath, disbelief clear in his voice.

["Language, Tim."]

Bruce's voice suddenly sounded, causing Tim to jump before he quickly tried to settle down. 

"Right, sorry." He apologized, placing a hand over his racing heart. God, that scared him more than it should've.

["Did you find anything?"]

Someone tsked at the question – while Tim just looked at his screen, still processing all that's happened, and suddenly feeling unsure. 

Should he just keep this to himself, so that he could go after you? The others didn't know where you live… they didn't have to know yet. This was a golden opportunity — should he really be giving this up?

["With how long it's been? And all he's been able to find out? We'll be lucky if he even knows if Y/n is dating or not."]

["Jason, c'mon.." Dick tried to pitch in, dragging on.]

["What? I'm just saying-"] 

"I know where Y/n lives." He found himself blurting out, Jason's words irritating him more than they would've. More than they should've.

["... Really? Where are they, Tim?" Dick didn't waste a moment to ask.]

["Yeah, just spill already so we can go get them."]

["Send me their location."]

["Send me the info too!"]

Tim could only sigh, rubbing his temple as he tried to collect his thoughts. Of course he just had to run his mouth before thinking things over. Of course he had to let that little comment get to him. Of course he just had to allow it to get to him so much that it made him give up the most important piece of information he had found out tonight. 

Of course. Just great.

["Guys, I don't think it's a good idea for all of you to just go and see Y/n."]

Barbara finally spoke up, voice calm and collected. 

["Why? I mean, I get that seeing the whole family all at once might be a little overwhelming… but I don't see why a few of us can't go." Dick questioned.]

["Because it's been months since they've last seen any of us? There's a reason why they haven't gone back to the Manor, and still haven't picked up your or Tim's calls."]

["... You're not saying-"]

["I'm just suggesting that maybe only one of you should go to kind of… test out the waters. We can't be sure of anything, and the best way to see how we should go about things is to know how Y/n feels about us first."]

["But we need to bring them home, they're not safe out here." Jason pointed out, already not liking the idea.]

["I know, but we can't just show up and expect them to comply because we're family. For all we know, they might-"]

["Okay! Um, I think we get it now." Stephanie interrupted, the idea already bothering her.]

["Fine, then I'll go." Jason proposed, sounding like he was just finishing up taking out a few thugs, if the faint noises in the background were anything to go by.]

"And why's that? I already have the location, so I'll go." Tim pointed out, already gathering his stuff, preparing to leave as quickly as he could.

["Because if they try anything, I'll be able to stop them. What're you going to do with your scrawny, lanky arms?"]

"They won't fight me, Jason." Tim sighed, as if that was obvious, "and besides, I thought you didn't think they could fight anyway?"

["I don't, but anyone could take you down without even trying."]

["Jay! Ugh," Dick groans, "Look, I'll go, okay?"]

["Oh yeah? And why should you go instead of me?"]

["Because at least I won't scare them off, and if anything happens then I can handle it too."]

["I'm going." Bruce stepped in, speaking as if the decision was already made.]

["If Father is going, then so am I." Damian chipped in.]

["The last person Y/n needs to see right now is definitely you, demon spawn." Jason scoffed.]

["You'll just scare them before you even get a word in, Bruce!" Dick tried to reason.]

["Hey, um, what if I go instead? At least I won't intimidate them or push them to come with us too hard." Stephanie suggested.]

Tim sighed, "Look, I can go and reason with them. Again, I already have the location so it makes sense-"

["No." Bruce said flatly.]

"But why!?"

["Father already said that he and I are going to see L/n," Damian stated, as if it was obvious, with a small scoff. Adding on, "Todd may also have a point."]

"So?! I already have the information, and I already said that Y/n won't fight me!"

["We can't say for sure what they will and won't do," Dick said, trying to deescalate the situation, "like Babs said, it's been a while. We don't know how they'll react or how they feel about us."]

["Is this you just trying to seem reasonable, so you can go see them first?" Jason asked, unconvinced.]

["What?! Of course not-!"]

["You're not really convincing anyone here, Dick…" Stephanie pointed out.]

The back and forth went on for a while. None of them could come to an agreement, as they all want to see you. They all want to be the first to actually meet you, and to experience what they all have found out about you first hand. Even if certain individuals were more guilty of that than others, the point still remained. 

They just want to see you so much, could you really blame any of them?

Barbara sighed at the chaos, the arguments and defenses just getting more and more ridiculous. Eventually, just boiling down to certain people trying to prove that they want to see you more compared to others, and therefore should be the first to see you.

They all miss you, or desperately want to see the idea of you that they had created in their heads, but that wasn't a valid reason for why they should go and see you either. Especially considering how important this meeting would be. Since it would change and determine a lot of things, depending on how well or awful it went.

"Guys, look, just- whoever's the closest to the location should go." Barbara suggested with another sigh, which thankfully caused the constant arguing to stop for now. 

["Fine, alright then." Tim agreed, albeit reluctantly.]

Barbara could only be a little thankful for the cooperation, but slowly grew confused at the silence that followed.

"Tim?" She asked, only to get another sigh as a response.

["It's Dick."]

["What? Really?!" Dick exclaimed, clearly happy at this turn of events.]

["Yes." Tim confirmed with a small groan, the frown evident in his voice.]

"Well, that settles it. Dick, you're going. Tim, send him the address. The right address, okay? We don't need more arguments or complications on this." Barbara says, "Don't push them too hard. The last thing we need is for their opinion of us to get worse, Dick."

["I know, I know. It'll be fine! I've got this!" Dick still sounded a little too happy, before suddenly going quiet.]

Barbara could only hope for the best at this rate.

["Did he seriously just turn off his comm link, and leave?" Jason asked as his voice rose, clearly upset.]

["Seems like it. Can't say I'm surprised since he sounded reallly happy to be able to see Y/n." Stephanie confirmed, sighing softly.]

["This is going to go poorly." Damian grimaced with another scoff.]

["Yeah, well, we can only hope he doesn't mess up too badly."]

["Let's try to think a little realistically, Tim." Jason said.]

Barbara just let out a huff as she looked at the screens in front of her. A little hope never killed anyone, but really, she didn't have a good feeling about this.

Maybe Dick really wasn't the best choice.

—

You were still calmly sitting in your apartment, messing around with the instrument in your hands. Since you've been switching between the ones you have every now and again, trying to find a particular melody you were looking for, but hadn't found just yet. You didn't have easy access to as many instruments as you did a few months ago, but you learned to work with what you had. Having taken home the very first instrument you bought yourself, and a few more of your favorites that could fit in the apartment that you managed to get your hands on for a decent price.

Sure, you did have other places you could go to that allowed you to play the other instruments you didn't have, but you liked to play at home if you could help it. There was just something about being in a comfortable space while composing a song or melody, that just felt nice. You truly felt at home, a feeling you didn't realize you missed until you left the manor and finally had a space that you could truly call your own. A feeling you didn't want to let go of, if you could help it.

Your life was still busy but it was beginning to slow down. You dedicated more time to things you actually enjoyed, but also made an effort to take care of yourself and hold onto good habits you had developed over the years. Though you were still trying to let go of some bad ones, you were making progress. 

You felt… happy here. At peace, even.

You were surrounded by people that saw you and even recognized you, and were beginning to see that you had a family of your very own all along. 

Unlike the family you were adopted into, your friends showed their care and support — and if anything, made sure you wouldn't forget it. With you showing the same care and support back, and your efforts being recognized instead of pushed to the side. Being reciprocated instead of leaving you with nothing, and making you feel more alone and unwanted than words could describe.

Sure, it wasn't perfect, and you've had your fair share of arguments and times where you needed space, but that was okay. You didn't need perfection, and you didn't need constant happiness. You just needed love and care, and that's what you found. Among other things you didn't ask for or necessarily need, but appreciated deeply regardless.

You felt like you had finally found what you've been searching for, and nothing could make you happier.

Yet, somewhere in your heart, you knew it couldn't last forever, and as if hearing your worries, an abrupt knock echoed throughout the apartment.

You paused what you were doing, humming curiously to yourself as you turned to look at the front door from your position on the couch. Who could that be at this hour? It certainly wasn't your roommate, seeing as they were sound asleep in their room, and you could still hear their snores despite being in the living room. So who else could it be?

Maybe it was Ms. Harry again, seeing as she had a bit of an odd tendency to knock on the wrong door sometimes. After all, she was old, and her memory was slowly getting worse, but she was always quick to fix her mistakes. So you just shrugged and turned away, convinced that it was another one of those nights where she just so happened to mistakenly knock on your door. So you let it be, knowing that she'd correct herself on her own and move along.

However, another set of knocks sounded. 

They were a little louder this time, as if the person on the other side of the door really did want to be noticed. Which made you pause and look back at the door, taking a brief glance at the clock.

It was getting late, and not many people were out and about during this time of night. Not the people on your floor, anyway. Though, you still tried to think of anyone who could be at the door right now.

Besides your roommate, not many of your friends lived particularly close. With the amount of them that would not only be up at this time of night, but would also personally come to bother you without sending a text or anything, being even smaller. The more you think about it, the shorter the list of potential people got, and you don't know if that should make you more confused or worried. Maybe a bit of both, but you weren't sure.

More knocks sounded. Again, they were louder compared to the last set, if only by a little.

Well, whoever was at your door was being rather persistent, so you decided to at least check it out. 

Reluctantly, you set the instrument you had been fiddling with for the past hour to the side. Sighing softly as you got up from your spot on the couch, and quietly approached the door. 

Moving about as silently as you could was an odd habit you couldn't shake, and while your friends have joked and commented about it, you suppose it was just another remnant of your life in the manor. A life you were still trying to gradually leave behind.

Regardless, you made your way to the door, and yet here — right at the foot of it, an odd feeling began to blossom in your chest. You couldn't make sense of it, but as you reached for the knob, you found yourself stopping. It didn't feel like a good idea to open the door, and though you couldn't figure out why, you just took a small breath and pushed the feeling to the side. 

Clearly, you were having a weird night, but just to humor yourself, you decided to 'comply' with whatever this feeling was, and check who was at the door by looking through the peephole instead.

It was only then did you understand.

You took a few silent steps back, putting your hand over your mouth as you kept your eyes on the door. Tingles of unease slowly crawling down your spine, and your heart began to beat against your chest harshly. You don't know if what you saw was real, but you didn't want to check again. Once felt like enough, especially since your legs felt like they were sinking into the floor.

How… how did they know where you live?

You took a breath, trying to calm your nerves as you took a few more steps away from the door. You have no idea what's going on, but all you know was that you don't want Dick knowing where you live. He might know the floor and building, but you refuse to give him the exact room if you could help it. So, you quickly moved to your room and got ready, a quick plan forming in your head.

Changing was easy, and so was gathering the stuff you thought you'd need for this. Not exactly too worried about the shoes you put on or anything like that, as your heart leapt from your chest to your throat when more knocks came, basically pounding against the door.

Fuck. He was getting impatient.

Picking up the pace, you made any last minute adjustments you could to your appearance, before quickly deciding that you looked good enough to be outside. Rushing to a window, you didn't waste any time opening it, grabbing onto a pipe that was exposed on the side of the building, closing the window, and sliding down the pipe until you reached the ground. Thanking your past self for having done that enough times to be used to it.

Knowing for a fact that you heard more knocks on your way down, you hurriedly rushed back into the apartment building and basically ran to the elevator. Thanking the gods that it had opened when you first called it, you rushed inside and hit the button for your floor. Hurriedly tapping on the button that closed the elevator doors as they slowly shut, as if that would make them move faster somehow.

As the elevator rose, you prayed that it wouldn't stop and that it'd go straight up to your floor, not knowing if you could afford to risk losing time like that. Especially when the thought of a certain vigilante breaking down your door because you didn't answer it, popped into your head.

Your hands were sweaty, your heart was racing, and you could hardly stand still as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor. Staring at the counter above the elevator buttons as if that'd make the numbers go up faster, and occasionally glancing at the doors as if they'd open at any moment. Questions and possibilities rushed through your head, but you hardly had any time to think about any of them as a small ding sounded, and the doors finally opened. Ignoring how the small sound made you jump a bit, you tried not to look too nervous as you stared at the hallway in front of you.

Oh god, you were really doing this.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you stepped out of the elevator and took a breath. Trying to calm down your heart a bit as you gathered your composure, and acted as normally as you could manage. Walking forward, you rounded the corner, and there he was in all of his tainted glory. 

"Di- I- I mean, Nightwing?" You call out, trying to grab the vigilante's attention before he did anything rash — and you seem to have caught him at just the right moment. As he seemed just about ready to bust open the lock to your door, and break into your apartment. Which, he thankfully pulls away as he whips around to look at you, clearly surprised.

You were almost too grateful to have caught him just in time.

"What are you doing here?" You took a few steps forward, but nothing more. Not wanting your efforts to go to waste right away, even if you knew it was only a matter of time when it came to these guys.

"Oh! Y/n- hi! I didn't, um, I didn't see you there." Dick greets with a smile, acting oddly nervous, which makes you raise a brow. "How long have you been, uh, standing there?" He asks, probably trying to see if you saw how he was about to break into your apartment. You both know you did, but you could play dumb for now.

"Um, I just got back so… not long, I guess? Why?" You tilt your head to the side, taking note of how Dick seemed to visibly relax. 

Was he always so… tense?

"No reason! I was just wondering, but, uh," He glances to the side before looking back at you, and taking in your appearance. He took in every little detail he could, and wow… you really were different from what he was expecting, but in the best way possible. 

Your voice was different than he remembered, and everything about you was just so… fitting, even if he's never seen it before. Even if he didn't remember having seen the style of clothes you wore on you before, or seeing the accessories you had on your person either. You really look like you've grown up now and have become an adult, with your own sense of style and fashion. Having all these little ways to show how you've grown, and become more comfortable with yourself. 

Dick couldn't help but love it as much as it hurt him.

"It's good to see you." He couldn't help but blurt out, smiling softly. Though it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

You only fiddled with your sleeves, averting your eyes for a moment as you purse your lips into a thin line. The way he looks at you made you feel uncomfortable to say the least, and his whole demeanor was nothing you have seen from him before. Not directed towards you, anyway, and you couldn’t help but struggle trying to remember the last time he smiled at you in person. All you could remember was seeing his back turned towards you as he walked away, a flash of a pathetic smile showing on his face briefly before he continued walking forward. Never looking back...

Maybe you've just grown too familiar seeing his smile in photographs and painted pictures, instead of in person.

Yet, how he looks you over now — and seems to take in every detail he manages to find — isn't exactly making this the most comfortable situation to be in. You feel exposed, and rub your arm before stopping yourself. You couldn't afford to show signs of weakness or vulnerability. Not with him. Not while he was in the suit.

Taking in a short breath, you gave a small nod. Managing to look back at Dick, and push down your nerves. The last thing you want was for him to notice how you truly feel, and point it out, or feel some kind of obligation to do something about it. The last thing you need was for him to stick around for longer than he has to.

"Yeah, um, anyway- that didn't really answer my question…?" You hesitantly point out, unsure if you should've mentioned anything at all, but feeling the need to do so. Even if you rather not be in this position, you prefer this over him breaking down your door. 

"Did something happen? I- I don't know how much help I can give since… y'know- I'm not a crime-fighting vigilante in latex, but I can see what I can do?" You try to joke a little, mostly for yourself and to further ease your nerves as a few small chuckles escape you. Yet it doesn't help as much as you would've liked.

Did they always scare you this much?

"Oh, no! No, no, no- nothing happened! I just wanted to, um, come see you, is all!" Dick admits, and even if that may have been enough reasoning for him, it wasn't for you. It just doesn't make sense, and maybe that was the years of being put off to the side — or almost outright ignored — talking, but you couldn't imagine him just randomly popping out of nowhere, just because he wants to see you. There has to be a reason, even if you don't know what that reason would be.

"By going to my friend's apartment…? That doesn't really make a lot of sense.. um, Nightwing." 

"Oh. Uh, you don't live here?" It was so weird seeing someone like Dick be so openly nervous. Was he always like this? You couldn't really tell, but if there was something going on he wasn't hiding it very well. It was almost like he was trying to not mess up or something, but you don't know why.

"No… but I do visit often? I mean, that is why I'm here and everything-" A few nervous chuckles escape you as you scratch the back of your neck, once again averting your gaze. "If you want, we could talk over a cup of coffee? I know a good place nearby, and even if I'm sure you can't exactly dine-in or anything, I could just take it to-go or something." You hesitantly offer, getting the feeling that Dick wouldn't leave easily, and still thinking that if there really is something going on — you could give him a chance to talk about it, at the very least.

"Sure! Yeah! But, uh. Is that really a good idea? It could be dangerous, and I think it's for the best if we stay inside or go to your place instead." Dick suggests, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion.

"My place?" 

"Yeah, I mean I would offer mine but Bludhaven isn't exactly close, y'know?" He snickers. Yet it only made you pause. The smallest bits of a bad feeling beginning to form in your stomach.

"I- I don't think that's a good idea…"

"But it's better than hanging around outside or something, right? This is Gotham, after all." You didn't like how Dick says that. Saying it like you didn't already know. Like you were ignorant of how bad the city you live in was, despite having experienced it first hand on multiple occasions.

"I know, but there has to be some other place we can talk, then just my place." 

"Well, there is the-"

"No." You immediately shot it down, already feeling like you knew what he was going to say, "Not there. Let's- let me just grab the coffee first, and we can figure it out from there, alright?" You didn't want to deal with more than you have to, and you weren't going to go back. Not now. Not ever, if you could help it.

"Oh, sure! I'll just tag along," Dick said simply, almost as if it was obvious, as he smiles, approaching you casually.

"I-" You pause before just sucking in a breath and giving a small nod, a weak smile displaying itself on your face, "-yeah, sure. That- that works." Even if you don't want Dick to follow you, it is better than having him just stand at your door, anyway. Though you still aren't exactly comfortable with the idea, you didn't have many options.

"Great! I'll meet you outside!" Dick grins before leaving through the window at the end of the hall.

Now by yourself for a while, you exhaled deeply, not even realizing how long you've been holding your breath. 

You aren't sure if you could do this, but you don't feel like you have much of a choice anymore as you just try to steady and calm down your racing heart. 

Making your way back to the elevator, you try to not think too much about what's going on as you step back inside, and push the correct button, waiting for it to descend.

Your heart felt heavy in your chest, and despite how you try to ignore it – you could feel that something was wrong. Though you just chalked it up to how you aren't used to Dick talking with you,  or smiling towards you – or really anything at all when it came to him. You tried to, anyway, but you were slowly beginning to doubt it.

There was something in his smile, and the way that he spoke that just felt strange to you. Even if you haven't had many conversations or interactions with him, you could still catch how different he seemed tonight. Though you weren't entirely sure. After all, you didn't know much about his personality or usual antics, just as he didn't know much about you as a whole.

On any other occasion you'd try to let it go, but doing so didn't feel right this time. It feels stupid, and almost as if you'd put yourself in more danger by trying to, so for now you'd just keep it in mind. Even if nothing came of it, at least you were being cautious, right?

You aren't sure, not entirely anyway. Since it was always hard to tell what is and isn't a good decision with Dick and the others, but you don't have much time to dwell on it as the elevator doors open once again.

All you could do was just hope that this would end as quickly as it started. For both your and Dick's sake, but mostly for your own.

Nevertheless, you step out of the elevator and make your way out of the building. There, you saw Dick leaning against a lamppost, before looking at you. The smile he gave only made the pit in your stomach grow bigger, but you tried to return the gesture the best you could.

Neither smile reached either of your eyes.

"So, you know where it is?"

"Yeah- it isn't too far from here. Just a few blocks away, it's not that far of a walk." 

"Great! You don't mind leading, then?"

"No, um. I can lead."

"Perfect, let's get going then." Dick says, his smile growing a little bigger as he makes his way over, and stops beside you, waiting for you to lead the way.

You just gave a nod, taking a nervous step forward as you both began to walk. You knew the directions by heart at this point, and so you just let your own feet guide you along the streets of Gotham. With Dick following right along, humming under his breath.

An awkward silence fell over both of you.

You try to not think about it too much, knowing that the detail would only further bother you, and make you feel more nervous than you already are. So you drew your attention elsewhere, and focused on the city itself instead.

Not many people were walking about, which immediately struck you as odd since Gotham was always so lively despite how dangerous it is. Even if more people were out during the day, there were still lots of people who were out at night for one reason or another. Granted, most of them are dangerous, everyone knows that, but some just simply went about their business. The city was dangerous, but that didn't stop people from going about their lives. Even if it did make it easier for thugs and the like to hide within the crowds.

Still, the change was noticeable. Gotham wasn't exactly known to be quiet, let alone this inactive. It felt strange, and when you glance over to Dick, you couldn't help but feel a little surprised that he didn't seem all that bothered by the change. If anything, you were almost getting the impression that he hadn't noticed it at all.

So, you just keep looking ahead, and focusing on other things. Deciding to not comment on anything if Dick wasn't.

Yet you still couldn’t shake it.

The absence of sirens in the air and occasional gunshots didn't sit right with you, and even the amount of people driving by wasn't as much as it'd usually be. The city didn't feel busy, let alone as alive as it would've been on any other night, and it's bothering you. It's like some sort of silent evacuation is going on, or a lock down of some kind that not everyone was informed of. There were more whispers than there were shouts, and a kind of awkward peace, instead of striking violence and chaos.

You couldn't believe it, was this Gotham's first real quiet night?

CRACK.

Perhaps you spoke too soon.

A sickening crack sounded from somewhere within the city, the noise so loud and sudden that it immediately caught your attention, as you looked in the direction of where you heard it come from. You could've sworn you heard a scream that followed right after, only for it to swiftly get cut off. 

It was only then did you really take a look around, and notice how the people you passed by looked equally tense and nervous. An unsaid, but shared feeling of tension and anxiety hung in the air, and now that you noticed it — you couldn't ignore it.

What didn't help was when you saw someone in an alleyway cocking their gun, only for them to swiftly get roped into the darkness, causing them to drop their weapon in the process. A sickening pop sounded, and then deafening silence followed. The only evidence that anyone had ever stood in that particular spot, was the gun the thug had dropped. 

Through the shadows of the alleyway, and faint light from the moon, you could almost make out a figure in the darkness. Yet just as they turned to look at you, your eyes darted away. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Are… are you sure there isn't anything going on? It seems oddly… quiet, tonight." You point out hesitantly, small tingles dancing down your spine, and they were far from pleasant.

"Hm? Oh, well, I guess you could say something is happening, but the others are taking care of it." Dick reassures as he waves his hand dismissively. "Though that's why I think it'd be better if we talked inside. The last thing I want is for someone to eavesdrop on our conversation, and for you to get caught in the crossfire of everything." Yet you couldn't help but feel like it was a little too late for that.

Being associated with Dick, and the others — let alone being someone that they'd actually turn to for assistance or anything — already made someone prone to being caught in any crossfire that dealt with their vigilante work. Even if the person didn't get caught in between things by some miracle, it would be hard to ignore the newly painted target on their back. Being known for having a connection to Batman, and anyone he had taken under his wing one way or another, had its problems, and you already had to deal with your own fair share of trouble just for being known as another kid who got adopted by Bruce Wayne. 

You wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly had to deal with more trouble just from this conversation alone, since word traveled around fast in Gotham, but you didn't want to think about that right now. You'd just deal with that when the time came, if it ever did.

Still, you didn't fully believe Dick. Your feelings of the situation becoming more messy, and unclear as you try to piece things together. You couldn't tell if what was going on was something to worry about, or stress over. Since Dick was acting so dismissively about it, and yet the effect it's having on Gotham was unmistakable. Is it big enough to cause the city to go quiet, but not dangerous enough to worry about? Or is it something else entirely?

You took a breath. Maybe it's best if you just think about it later. You already have enough on your plate as it is, and the biggest thing you have to worry about right now is Dick. All you have to do is find out what he wants, and handle things from there. That's it. That's all you have to do.

So, you nod hesitantly. Still not looking at Dick as you said, "Right. Okay. That… that makes sense, I guess," but your voice betrays you despite your best efforts as it wavered slightly. Still, you make sure to add, "but I still don't think it's the best to talk at my place."

Dick only gave a nod, saying, "Alright," and nothing else.

Your body refused to relax after that.

You still couldn’t shake the odd feeling you were getting from Dick, even if you couldn't exactly pinpoint what's wrong or where this feeling is coming from. The distant sounds of snaps, cracks, pops, and cut off shouts and screams in the distance didn't help much with that either. Especially when they weren't far, and sounded like they were only a few blocks away from you, with the distance slowly growing shorter each and every time a new sound echoed across Gotham. Especially when you realized that the snaps and cracks were the sounds of bones breaking, and the pops were joints getting dislocated. Which caused various memories to pop into your head that you tried to shove away.

Small beads of sweat began to roll down your neck. Your hands feel clammy, and you try to steady your breathing once you realize it was wavering again. You try to fix any outward reaction you notice you were displaying before Dick could catch on, fiddling with your sleeves as you try to reassure yourself.

You're going to be okay.

CRACK!

You're going to be fine.

SNAP!

You're going to make it through this.

POP!

You could tough it out.

"AAAHHH-!" CRUNCH.

This would all be over soon.

So, you try to ignore how the pit in your stomach continues to grow with each second that passes. How each sound causes you to tense, and sometimes jump the smallest bit, but you try to ignore that too. 

You glance over to Dick once again, only to catch him immediately turning to face forward. The detail made you pause and furrow your brows, had he been looking at you?

You shove the thought to the side and face forward again as well. A weight of some kind begins to form in your chest, yet you still try to push on and keep walking.

Seconds turn into minutes, and it's only now that you fully realized how long this short walk felt. The sidewalks stretched on, and the streets never seemed to end. The traffic lights felt like distant glimpses of life and civilization that one would catch in fog, with the small amount of cars on the road not helping with that feeling. Dark clouds begin to form overhead, and cover the inky black sky. With the full moon looking down at you. Its sight pinned on you, staring in silence.

Maybe that's why you were so relieved when the diner finally came into view, and you found yourself holding back a sigh of relief. You had to stop yourself from running over, and rushing inside so that you didn't have to walk beside Dick anymore. Further reminding yourself of how awkward this whole experience has been for you thus far. Which didn't help with how you are feeling at all.

"How do you like your coffee?" You decide to ask, seeing as the diner was only a few steps away at this point.

"What?" Dick asks, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in. With your question bringing him back to reality.

"Um, how do you like your coffee? Since, y'know. That's what we're here for?" You repeat, giving Dick a confused glance.

A look of realization flashed across Dick's face as a small 'ohh' left him. "Right, yeah. Uh," he stumbles at first before saying his preference, with you just nodding along.

"Okay, I'll just go inside and order so… you can just wait out here?" You said, unsure as you glance at the diner, only to look back at Dick.

"Yeah, I can do that." He agrees with a simple nod and small thumbs up. Making you nod as well as you took a breath.

"Right, okay. I'll just, um, head inside then." You exhale sharply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "It shouldn't take too long." You stop once you're in front of the door to the diner. Folding your hands into fists, squeezing your fingers and digging your nails into your palms, before releasing, letting your fingers relax, before repeating the process a few more times.

"Got it." Dick nods again, and you return the gesture as you open the door and step inside. Once again holding yourself back from letting out a sigh of relief, as you made your way over to the counter. A weight of some kind being lifted from your shoulders the moment the smell of food, and freshly brewed coffee hits you.

It's only when you reach the counter and see your friend did you finally sigh deeply, and heavily. You rest your arms against the counter and let your head hang low, a feeling of exhaust and fatigue slowly eating away at you. Not being in the immediate vicinity of Dick definitely made you feel exceptionally better, especially now that there’s a wall between you and him.

"Y'know, lots of people have been comin' in and sighing just like that, tonight." The waitress points out as she makes her way over to you. Her comment causing you to lift your head, and look at her. She gave you a little smile, amused by your antics, but you could see the little worry that hid behind her eyes. 

"Really?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax a little, now that you were in the presence of a friend. You didn't see Jessica outside of the diner much, but that was never a problem since you've been a regular for a while now. You had met when you first began coming to the diner late at night for coffee since you couldn't sleep, coming around just when the place was about to close. It was only after a few more nights passed that you both began to talk, and really connect. You like to consider her one of your closest friends because of all she's done for you, and not just because she knows how to make your coffee just the way you like it.

"Yeah, it's kinda weird but there's seems to be somethin' going on tonight. So I guess it makes sense." Jessica says with a shrug, "Anyway, you want the usual, I'm assuming?"

You perk up at that, "Wait, you think something's going on too?" You couldn't help but ask, though made sure to also say, "Oh, and that'd be great. But I'll… um, take it to go this time, and I'll have another coffee for my…" you glance over your shoulder and look at Dick. He had his back turned to the window, and looked to be talking to someone with what you assumed to be his comm link. 

You turn back to Jessica, a crooked smile on your face, "My acquaintance…?"

"I can't think of anyone who doesn't. Everyone can tell that something ain't right about tonight. Hell, even Jim looked bothered when he came in. I swore he was shakin' like a leaf, and looked like something was out to get him too." Jessica replies, writing down your order on her notepad mindlessly, already knowing it by heart. 

"Jim? Like the commissioner?"

"Nope, I'm talkin' about the guy who came in from Metropolis."

"Oh." You said, before slowly nodding as you thought about it, "I guess that makes sense. Though, I didn't think that guy had a single nervous bone in his body, to be honest."

"Well, y'know what they say; Gotham changes people. It can even make people like him, who're barely present with the rest of us, get a little shaken up every now and again." Jessica hums, looking at what she has written down for a moment.

"Right… yeah."

Jessica sighs softly, looking at you with unsaid care and concern before speaking up again, "Anyway, does your…" she drags out the 'r' as she glances behind you, before looking back at you. Waving her pen in the air as she gestures towards the window, "'acquaintance' want anything else?" 

"No, um. Just the coffee will do." You rub the back of your neck, making sure to mention how Dick said he likes his coffee. Jessica only gave a nod as she wrote it down.

"Alright, but I gotta ask. Is that guy bothering you?" Jessica asks as she starts to brew the coffee, shooting you a certain look, "I can get William to have a chat with 'im if he's causing you trouble. He won't like it, but he'll do it, y'know." 

The question catches you off guard, but you quickly shake your head, and try to adjust the smile on your face to look less obvious. As much as you don't want to be in this situation, you at least want to hear Dick out. If there's even the smallest chance that he really does need something from you — you want to help. You don't want to be the reason why whatever is going on is prolonged any further, or if a solution they have is delayed. 

Despite everything they've done to you, and the little they've given you throughout all of your life, you want to do this one last thing for them. That's all. 

You could afford to do this one last time, you thought as much anyway.

"I'm fine, he- he isn't bothering me… I promise." You try to reassure your friend, mustering the most convincing smile you could as you watch her work. She clearly knew what she was doing, since it looked as if it came so naturally to her, and you wouldn't be surprised if it did, with all she's told you in the past.

"Well, alright. But if he does anything you can always shoot me a text or give me a call. I can't do much myself, but I know people." 

You huff at her words, an easy smile making its way up your face as your shoulders relaxed, "I know. Thanks, Jess."

"Don't mention it. After all, I've gotta look out for the person who gives the best tips." She snickers, a smile of her own beginning to show itself. You can't help but laugh lightly as you just shake your head, and look away.

The soft tune of old melodies plays in the background, filling the space of the diner and washing away any awkwardness that may have been present otherwise. Some jazz begins to play, and you couldn’t help but tap your foot along with the rhythm, the voice of the singer taking all of your worries, and whisking them away. 

The other customers are quiet for the most part, but seem at ease for the time being. The outside world almost seemed so far away despite being just past the windows, but there was some peace to be had with that. The street lights gave off a homey feeling with their soft orange hues spilling into the diner, the quiet from the outside only making this place feel more safe, in a strange way.

"So it's just for the money, huh? And here I thought you genuinely cared about me." You chuckle, fiddling with your fingers mindlessly.

"Of course I do. But I'd like to see you work in customer service and living off of tips," Jessica chuckles as well, "Maybe then you'd see how that's just me appreciating you more, hon'."

You just shake your head, "Right, whatever you say."

"I'm being serious, Y/n. Even the boss appreciates you, and your wonderful donations." Jessica snickers, beginning to pour the coffee into two cups.

"You make it sound like he runs a charity, and I'm a big donor."

"Of course he does! Except, y'know. It isn't your typical charity, and we gotta work our asses off to ‘give back to the people’. With your money making up about… hm, seventy-five percent of my paycheck?" 

"Jess!"

"No, no. You're right, it's more like eighty-three. Maybe even eighty-five at a push." She laughs, giggling at the expression you make as you huff, before laughing a bit yourself.

You both continue to joke lightly, laughs and giggles being shared as Jessica makes your order, and you patiently wait. A light, soft sort of smile resting on your face, and you almost forget what had made you so tense in the first place. Which was one of the reasons you love this diner so much — it felt like a home away from home, even if it was only a few blocks away from your apartment. Jessica just added onto that comfortable vibe you got from this place, and your mind always felt so quiet when you're here.

It almost made everything feel like it'd be okay, and that as long as you remain inside, nothing bad could happen to you.

Unfortunately, it was only that. A feeling, and nothing more. Your current situation only made that detail all the more apparent.

"Welp, here you go. They're both hot and ready, so be careful, okay?" She smiles down at you before snickering, "Though you don't gotta tell the guy that if you don't want to." 

You're confused for a moment, not entirely sure who Jessica was talking about until it suddenly hit you. Right, Dick.

You laugh along, but it wasn't as genuine as it was before, and died down much quicker. As if scared that he'd hear both of you from past the window now. The thought alone made you suddenly hyper-aware of his presence outside. "Right, yeah.."

Grabbing the two cups, you slide them towards yourself and stare down at them for a moment, finding yourself hesitating again. You don't know why you were taking so many pauses, but this whole thing just didn't feel right to you. Though you couldn't exactly pinpoint why, you knew the reason was different than why you were so awkward around Dick, and reluctant to talk to him.

"... Are you sure that guy isn't bothering you?" Jessica asks again, leaning against the counter as she places a hand over one of yours. You couldn't meet her eyes, knowing that if you did it'd just make things harder for yourself. So you look off to the side, unsure.

"Yeah!… He's just.. yeah." Was all you could really say. You don't want to say anything that would make Jessica worry more, but most importantly, you don't want to make it harder for yourself to leave. You got this far, would it really be alright if you leave now? If you took back the words you said, and just went back home? Probably not.

You hear Jessica sigh, causing your heart to feel heavier in your chest. "Look, I get it if you don't want me to get someone to handle him, but if you don't want to stick around, and don't want him to see- I can let you out the back." She offers, giving your hand a small squeeze. Trying to reassure you, and give you something to work with.

You perk up at her offer, looking back up at her in slight surprise, "Really?" You ask. The sense of hope and relief that washed over you didn't make you feel any better, and only furthered the conflict going on in your mind.

"Yeah. Especially if it'll get you away from that weirdo." She chuckles with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You think about it for a moment, just looking at Jessica as countless thoughts rush through your head. Why did this have to be so complicated? Why are you making this so hard for yourself? The choice is so simple, so easy, and yet you just couldn't take it, but why?

You look back at Dick, and make eye contact.

You both stand there, staring at each other for a while, and the music playing in the diner suddenly didn't feel so comforting anymore. Your shoulders lost their weightlessness, and gravity seemed eager to try and pull you down to the floor.

Dick is the first to look away, presumably resuming his conversation with whoever he's been talking to this entire time, but you didn't. You don't.

Turmoil and conflict is clear in your eyes. You could see it through your faint reflection in the glass of the window that separates you and Dick. Which, from that alone, you begin to feel worse.

Even if you did leave, would that change anything? Would you be able to actually leave Dick? Or would he catch on? They already know where you live, and even if you managed to fool Dick momentarily, you doubt that he believes your little lie now if he is talking to the others. Yet if you went back to him, what would happen? Where would you both end up going?

You look back down at the two coffees, and sigh. Either way, you’re faced with uncertainty. If you left now, there's no telling if you'd actually be able to get away. Yet if you went back to Dick, you couldn't even imagine what would happen next. It felt like you were stuck in a lose-lose situation; having to pick between two different types of poison, and deal with whatever consequences that came with the kind you chose.

Holding the cups a little tighter, you think it over for another moment before shaking your head. Taking in a breath, and letting yourself calm down a bit.

"I think I'll be okay, but thanks for the offer, Jess." You gave her a little, appreciative smile, "I'll just message or call you if anything happens, like you said." Jessica didn't seem entirely sure of your decision, but nods anyway.

"Well, if you're sure, then alright. But the moment shit goes south, you know who to call."

You nod, and give her a small ‘thank you’ as you paid and left. Taking the drinks with you as you did so, the warmth of the diner slowly leaving you, and now being replaced with the cold breeze of the night.

"Sorry that took so long, I would've told you otherwise if I had known." You apologize as you turn to Dick, flinching at his close proximity. Since, you didn't realize just how close he had been standing to the door until now.

"It's no big deal! Besides, it didn't take that long." Dick said, dismissing your apology as he kept up that smile of his. You only nod, handing him his coffee, which he gladly took.

"If you say so.." You glance off to the side again, remaining quiet for a moment before looking back at Dick, "You were talking to the others, I assume?" You decide to ask, not exactly sure if you should've said anything, but you didn't see the harm in doing so at the moment.

"Hm? Oh, yeah! I uh, I was." Dick confirms with a small, awkward nod.

"Is… everything okay?" 

"Yep! Things are going well. Great, even!"

"Oh. Alright then."

Another beat of silence passed over both of you.

You clutch the cup in your hands, its heat pinching and nibbling at your skin through the sleeve. You took a glance inside the diner, and noticed that while Jessica is doing her job, she's still shooting looks and glances your way past the window. She furrows her brows as you both made eye contact, and you could tell what she was going to do just from that alone.

You shake your head, and play it off as if you were just pushing a thought away once you look back at Dick, shoulders rising and almost locking into place as you try to stop your smile from dropping. Holding it at just the right height, and making sure it didn't look too crooked.

"So, um. How about we walk and talk? Just so that we're doing something instead of just standing around- y'know?" You suggest, a wry chuckle escaping you as your eyes wander off again.

"Sure, yeah! We can do that," Dick nods along, and you give a curt nod in return.

"Great!" You begin to walk off, only to be stopped by Dick as he grabs your sleeve, causing you to flinch a little bit. Whipping your head around to look back at him, your heart stopping for a moment as something flashed in your eyes, before it quickly disappeared.

For a split second, you look at Dick as if he was about to kill you, or something similar to that. Like he was going to hurt you in some unimaginable way by just trying to grab your attention.

Though Dick just pushed that little detail to the side, he couldn't help but keep it in mind. He didn't want to think about what it could mean, but couldn't forget it either. Since no matter how quick it was, or how short it lasted, just seeing that expression on your face and directed towards him — it hurt worse than any injury he could possibly receive in any shape or form.

He didn't want to believe what seemed to be the undeniable truth.

So, instead, he tucked it away in the back of his mind. Still managing some kind of smile as he looks at you, hiding behind a face of confusion.

"Isn't your place back that way?" Dick asks, gesturing behind him with a tilt of his head. He notices how you swallowed — taking note of how nervous and on edge you seem to be. He's known since he first saw you, but he didn't think anything of it. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want it to mean anything.

So he ignores it. Pushing it away until he can't see it anymore, despite it being so clear and right in front of his face. 

He prays to every god he knows, and hopes to every heaven he's aware of — blind and ignorant to the fact that they have long since shut him out. The light and grace they'd give, forever out of his reach.

His little wishes couldn't help him now. Not when they never helped you.

"I-" You couldn't help but sigh, shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, before speaking again, "I already said that I don't think that it's a good idea to talk there, Dick. And I don't think it's smart to have this conversation here either- so let's just walk as we try to figure this out. Please?" Your weak smile begins to strain as you take a step back, grabbing Dick's hand and tugging him toward you. You hope he'll listen, if only this one time.

Dick looks to the side, unsure as he weighs his options before looking back at you, and suddenly he's hit with all the convincing he needed.

You look at him pleadingly, almost silently begging for him to comply and just come along with you. The moon, albeit partially covered thanks to the dark clouds passing overhead, lit up your eyes in such a way that further emphasized the emotions you were feeling, but left unsaid. How the internal conflict and struggle you were experiencing, made the color in your irises shine that much brighter, and how such a little thing took Dick's breath away. 

Suddenly, for a moment, he realizes how soft your hand was in his, despite the fabric of his glove in between them. Even if it is just for that split second, he can't help but… love it. Love you. So how can he say no? How could he say no when he's slowly beginning to see all of these little things about you in a different way? When his guilt was slowly shifting to something else? Something worth trying for?

How can he deny such a little request from his little sibling? Especially when you look at him like that? He can't. So he didn't. Unable to stop the soft but partially happy smile that grew on his face.

You found it uncanny and misplaced, but he found it fitting and refreshing in a way. A way he hadn't felt before — not in a while, anyway.

"Sure, alright. Let's get going then!" Dick replies after a second of silence had passed, holding onto your hand and walking beside you when you began to move again. 

You didn't say anything this time, just nodding as you focused on walking away from the diner.

Yet, Dick couldn't help but look back at the establishment. Curious as to why you wanted to move on from it so quickly, and wanted to see if he could catch anything in particular that might've caused it. Not that Dick was complaining by any means, but he couldn't help his own curiosity.

It was then that Dick and the waitress from inside the diner made eye contact. Causing Dick to narrow his eyes, and the waitress doing the same back with a certain look in her eyes.

He didn't like it, and even if the impression he's getting was far off the mark, he didn't care enough to change it.

Yet, when you and Dick pass the diner, your phone suddenly vibrates. 

Oblivious to how Dick's gaze lingered on the diner for a little while longer — or how he was even looking back at all — you fish your phone out of your pocket once you shake Dick’s hand off mindlessly, not thinking too much about the action as you check your notifications.

There, you saw that Jessica had left you a message.

['Be careful with that one. I'd watch your back if I were you, hon.']

You were confused to say the least, but before you could think to respond, Dick turned back to you and suddenly spoke. Smile ever present, eyes trained on you.

"So, where are we going?" 

"Oh- um, I'm not entirely sure." You admit, pocketing your phone quickly without much thought. Hoping Dick didn't see what the text said, but you didn't count on it. Not much slipped past him or the others in any given situation, not unless it was something dealing with you. Though, with his attention on you now? You couldn't be too sure of what he would and wouldn't notice. Not anymore.

After all, just knowing that he could see you now, and is actually talking with you, along with the fact that you've been in his space for over a minute was… a new experience. You didn't think you'd get this far — you never have before, and so this was all new territory for you. All you knew, and could gather from how things were going thus far, was that slipping away wouldn't be as easy as it was before. Not with his eyes trained on you like they were now.

"Well, that's fine but we still shouldn't stay out for long. It isn't safe." Dick pointed out again, causing you to sigh and nod your head.

"I know, but I still-" you cut yourself off, and took a quick breath before continuing, "it doesn't feel right going back to my place. Besides, not many people are out tonight… and as weird as that is- at least not many people will be around to eavesdrop on our conversation, if we did talk out here." You said, shrugging your shoulders, and taking a slow but small sip of your coffee. It burned your tongue, but at least it gave you something else to think about.

"That doesn't exactly make Gotham any less dangerous, and besides- those who are walking around, and are still out and about, could be from a worse crowd. You should know that, Y/n." Again, you didn't appreciate how he spoke to you like that. Talking as if you were ignorant to that possibility, or just generally unaware that Gotham was a bad place filled with even worse people. 

"I do, I'm just saying-" you try to defend yourself, looking at Dick before immediately looking away. You don't like how he looked at you, and how much taller it made him appear, "Gotham isn't just filled with criminals, and besides… most people look like they're rushing to get home anyway." You comment, noticing how a group of people — presumably friends or roommates, maybe even 'coworkers' to a certain degree — rushed inside what appeared to be an apartment building. Along with how a family quickly got inside of their house, ushering their kids inside before hurriedly closing the door behind them. 

"It's like some kind of apocalypse is going on…" You mutter, narrowing your eyes at the sight, before just focusing your attention back on the sidewalk ahead of you. You didn't recall getting a memo of any kind, or an alert if something like that was really going on. Though, your best bet to figuring anything out was unfortunately through Dick, by the looks of things.

Dick rubs the back of his neck, a strange feeling of nervousness, and something close to embarrassment, radiating off of him as he chuckled. The strange detail caught your attention, causing you to look at him and notice that his smile had become uneven, before he fixed it when he noticed you were looking. 

You couldn't help but raise a brow, silently questioning Dick with your eyes, a small hint of suspicion growing behind your gaze.

Dick just shrugs, fixing himself the very next moment, which only causes you to narrow your eyes. Were they actually causing some kind of apocalypse? Surely not… right?

"Then that's just all the more reason why we should head inside too." Dick said, giving your hand a soft squeeze. Forcing you to acknowledge that you were holding hands once again – but when did he grab it? You don’t remember feeling him hold it again until now… but that wasn’t important, not now anyway, "I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Y/n. I'm just worried." 

You grew quiet at that, a mix of emotions beginning to swirl around in your chest before you just shove it to the side. You couldn't tell if he was joking or trying to be genuine….

Though, your heart and mind seemed to agree that he wasn't being serious, and maybe that's why you didn't like how he looked at you.

Taking your hand back once again, you shook your head dismissively, "You're a vigilante, right? One of Gotham's finest, and looking over Bludhaven at that- if anything happens I'm sure you can handle it." Huffing, you add, "Even then, I can handle myself."

Dick's eyes linger on you for a little longer. The hand that had been holding yours twitched, and he kept it there for a second before letting it drop to his side, his smile beginning to die down before he sighed. "Still, I think it'd be better if we tried to avoid something like that all together."

"I think it'd also be better if we could avoid something like that happening at my place."

"It won't, not with me around."

"So now you're confident that nothing will happen?" You laugh lightly, more air escaping you above all else, and disbelief clear in your eyes and tone. "You can't be sure. Someone could follow us there and find out where I live."

You snicker again, not fully believing that you were actually having to tell Dick all of this, "I mean, it might not matter much to you but-"

"It does matter to me. I don't want you to get hurt, or anyone else to come after you." He took another breath, and you bite your tongue. Reframing from mentioning how it was a little too late to be saying that now. "Look, I understand if you don't want to go back to where you're staying, but if that's the case then we can just got to the-"

"No." You speak up before he could even finish. Already knowing what he was going to say, and the mere thought of going back to that place made you feel uneasy. Causing you to clutch your cup with both of your hands, barely registering its heat.

"I didn't even get to say where…" Dick sighs again, just pushing the detail to the side for the moment, "Can you at least tell me why? I don't see why we shouldn't."

"It just-" You didn't want to say it outloud. Not out here. Not with him around, and listening to every word that fell out of your mouth. "I just don't think that's smart either. Again, someone could follow us back there and find out about… you know."

"Well, then someone else could just take you back-"

"Wouldn't that seem suspicious if someone saw, though?" 

"Now you're worried about being seen?"

"Like you weren't before-"

"Y/n, please. We can't just stand around here and talk about stuff all night. Either way, we have to go somewhere." Dick tries to reason, adding on, "Look, if you don't want to go to your place or the 'other' place, how about we just-"

"No."

"I didn't even get to finish!"

"I know what you were about to say, and just-" You took a breath of your own, sweat rolling down the back of your neck as your hands began to shake a little bit. Your nerves were getting to you. You could feel it with how your chest became heavier, and how it was getting progressively harder to continue walking — as if your feet were slowly sinking into the cement below you.

"I don't think it'd be the best to go there either." You mutter, looking off to the side.

"Why? I can sort of understand the 'other' place-" he didn't, but in his attempt to get through to you, he said otherwise, "but why not there? Again, we can't just wander around all night and talk out in the open like this, Y/n. You should know better than that." Dick states, furrowing his brows as his gaze remains pinned on you, never once looking away.

You wish he would. By the Gods did you wish he would look away just once. Yet such a blessing had yet to be given, if it would ever come.

With every second that passed, your doubt only grew.

"I just don't see why we can't go to any other places? Somewhere that isn't personal, or technically considered to be personal since it could reveal your identity and such- and I don't think I have to give reasons why someone knowing where I live, or used to live, would be bad too- but… yeah. Just-" You gather your thoughts, looking down at your cup of coffee for a brief moment, "Just somewhere that isn't necessarily connected to either of us, or could reveal potentially personal or sensitive information on one or both of us? Like the park, or some random rooftop…? You guys still have talks up there, right?" You manage to slide in a little joke, but the laugh you gave is more awkward and nervous than anything, so you just clear your throat and continue.

"Or- or just an abandoned building or something? If you still really want us to be inside? Since Gotham has some of those… maybe too many of them- but that's besides the point." You try to suggest, hesitant to even say anything but managing somehow regardless.

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Dick – so you missed how his brows creased, and his smile was just barely holding up. His hand twitches again, but he tries to stay mindful of the coffee he's still holding.

"Are you serious?" His tone made you press your lips into a thin line. Your nails begin to dig into the sleeve of your cup. "I get that you're paranoid, but are you serious right now? Y/n, c'mon." An odd warmth began to bloom in your chest at Dick's words. It was far from pleasant, and lit like a match, with the flame itself bursting to life. It started much larger than you were used to, and controlling it was more difficult than you expected.

"I'm just saying…" 

"Saying… what? That we either stay out in the open where anything can happen, or a clearly dangerous place where we're most likely going to get jumped? 'Cause if that's what you're saying, then I don't even know what to say, Y/n." Dick really can't believe you right now. Just how long have you been living in Gotham, exactly? Who were you even living with? He couldn't understand what you were thinking suggesting such a thing.

He had a feeling you may have been unaware of the true dangers of Gotham, since he and the others had kept you away from such things – from what he could tell. Not to mention that you didn't have any intention of becoming a vigilante yourself, from what he remembered, but for you to turn out like this? He had no idea you were so oblivious, and if he had before, he never would've let you out of that apartment building. He never should've to begin with, clearly.

"No! Of course that's not what I'm saying!" You couldn't help but yelp in surprise, finally looking at Dick as you held your coffee closer to your chest. You felt offended that he honestly thought you'd think something so stupid, but you didn't know what was worse. How he didn't seem convinced, or how he looked as if he believed himself more than you.

"Then…?" Dick drags on, gesturing for you to give an explanation. Almost daring you to say something that proved him wrong, or went against his point. 

You huff harshly, the warmth in your chest beginning to turn hot as you went on to say, "I'm just saying why can't we go anywhere else, that isn't technically connected to you or me in some way?"

"... And your solution to that is to go to a public area, stay out in the open but on the rooftops, or go to one of the abandoned places around Gotham where something bad will definitely happen?" Dick rose a brow, with you restraining yourself from rolling your eyes. Instead, you manage a sigh – smile long gone from your face.

"Those were just examples, Nightwing." You hold back a scoff, clutching your cup a little tighter, "We don't actually have to go to any of those places, or do those things. I was just trying to suggest ideas, not say; 'Hey, we should go to that one place by the bay that's been abandoned for around five years and have our talk there. Since surely nothing will happen, and a gang totally doesn't hang around that area.' Or something like that." 

"That's oddly specific," Dick gave you a questionable look before shaking his head, "but still. Those places and areas aren't safe. At least the places I suggested are, and if something happens, then there's security measures in place for that."

"How do you know if my place is secure or not?"

"Are you trying to say that it isn't?"

"No- but it's not like I have a super complicated system or hypersensitive security like- y'know. The other places. So what would make my place so safe?"

Dick sighs, "Fine. Alright, maybe your place isn't our safest bet right now. Even if I feel like I can definitely handle protecting a single apartment." You didn't even bother to say anything, just rolling your eyes and shaking your head instead.

"I don't want anything to happen to my place, Nightwing." 

"You really don't think I can't defend one room?"

"I don't live alone, D- Nightwing. I don't just have myself or my things to worry about." You couldn't help but say, scoffing under your breath. However, Dick could only blink, a little confused.

"You… have a roommate?" 

"Yeah? Who do you think I was referring to when I said I was visiting a friend?"

"Oh! I thought that was a complete lie. I guess that makes sense, but why would you need a roommate anyway? Does your job not make enough money or-"

"Does that really matter right now?" You gave Dick a pointed look, hoping that he would take the hint and drop the subject, "We're trying to find out what the fuck to do, not delve into my personal life." 

"Alright, fine- no need to get all worked up." Dick put his free hand up to show that he wasn't trying to start anything, and was trying to keep this peaceful and civil, "But why don't we just go to one of the other two areas? They're secure, and I'm sure your friend won't get hurt if something ends up happening while we're there."

You open your mouth to say something, only to shut it and look away. You clutch your cup a little tighter.

How could you tell Dick that you just don't want to be in the manor again, and that you didn't want to go back — without actually having to tell him? How do you tell Dick that you don't feel comfortable being in a space where you knew the rest of them would be, and that you'd rather have to just deal with him than anyone else? That you had a bad feeling about going to any of those places with him, and you don't trust him or the others at all?

You'd rather avoid going to the manor if you could help it, and you had more than enough reasons for feeling that way. Though, would Dick understand? Would he accept your reasons, and see why you wanted to go somewhere else? Maybe not, and even if he did understand, there was no guarantee that he would value your personal comfort over your 'safety'. There was no guarantee that he still wouldn't try and get you to agree with him. 

You also wanted to avoid going to the clock tower. Seeing as just dealing with Dick was… difficult, to say the least, and if you could barely handle one — you couldn't imagine what it'd be like to handle another. Since there was bound to at least be someone else at the tower, just waiting for you to arrive. 

The thought alone made you feel uneasy.

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

[Chapter 3, part 2]

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Already Gone {8} || MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: After a record smashing 2023 season it seems to be about to repeat as 2024 begins. Warnings: 18+ only, violence, reader injury WC: 2.3k One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight

The season had ended on a high with Max rightfully where he belonged. You had accompanied him to the FIA awards and cheered proudly as he accepted the winners trophy before jetting off to the Swiss Alps for a much needed break. Unfortunately work was never far away and all too soon it was time to make your grand entrance at the annual end of year Board of Directors meeting at the Scuderia Ferrari Headquarters.

The memory of the shocked faces when you walked into the meeting room and took the last chair around the table never ceased to make you smile. The brooch pinned to your Chanel suit jacket had recorded the moment of silence before chaos erupted while you reclined back in the chair to watch the men scramble for an answer.

Now it was time for the new season to begin.

Melbourne, Australia

It should have been a safe place. You had walked the perimeter three times just to check for any signs someone would be trying to get into the event. You hadn’t found any. Leaving the security team to their job, you returned to Max and accepted the cocktail he had ordered.

Australia was always a lively place for Red Bull as they gathered a range of their athletes across a dozen extreme sports and created some promo videos for the year. This year was no different with a party to kick off the week long trip down under and it was more than just the Red Bull family in attendance.

“What’s wrong, liefje?”

You shook away the lingering feeling that something was amiss and draped your arms around Max. “Nothing, baby, I’m just a little on edge.”

“I thought things were going well with the Board?”

You scanned the room for the current Ferrari drivers, and the future one, spotting them all in separate areas and deep in conversation. “They are, I haven’t been able to find anything planned yet but it doesn’t mean they won’t try something.”

“Relax,” he soothed as he kissed his way across your collar and up to your lips. “You can have the night off worrying. I want my girlfriend not my bodyguard.”

“Maybe if you stop winning all the time I will be able to relax,” you teased. “You’re just too damn fast, baby.”

Max’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he dipped his head to your ear. “I went slow last night, didn’t I? I think I got in trouble for that too the way you begged me to go faster.”

The witty retort you had to torture him with was lost as two men stumbled over their feet and knocked into Max. Unsure of their intentions you shoved them back and stepped in front of him protectively but all they could sum up were a few drunken expletives at your lack of hospitality. It was only going to get worse when you signalled for security to escort them off of the premises.

“It’s fine, liefje, I’m safe, we’re safe,” Max soothed as he rubbed your tense shoulders. “Have another drink with me.”

You turned to the bar and reached over the counter for two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka. “I don’t know how many more 1-2 finishes I can survive,” you admitted as you tapped his glass and downed your shot. You could feel the desperation growing with each Ferrari board meeting but it was the meetings that were happening in the shadows that concerned you more. The only reprieve was that Mercedes had started the season off poorly so it was one less team for them to worry about competing with. “I think we should hire more personal security for you and maybe Checo too now.”

“Do you know what I think? I think you worry too much.” Max laughed at the roll of your eyes in response.

“One of us has to be the responsible one.”

Max took your shot glass and the bottle of vodka, placing them on the bar top before taking your hand and giving it a small tug.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m being the responsible one and taking you back to the hotel,” he said with a grin. “A bottle of wine in the jacuzzi with you is much safer.”

There were plenty of drivers parked outside the venue for when guests wanted to leave and the valet waved one forward. Plastic barriers kept fans back, photographers snapped shots for the newspapers and police lined the entrance for anyone that grew too bold. You scanned both sides of the tiled floor for anything out of place and shifted as you saw a flash catch the glint of metal.

When the gunshot rang out, your first thought was of Max. He had only been a few feet behind you, but with the crowd that had gathered in the hopes to get an autograph you had lost sight of him. Had he been hit? Had he ducked along with everyone else? You dared a glance over your shoulder and found he had been quickly covered by the policemen while the man you had spotted tried to make his escape. 

Max’s leather jacket billowed at your sides as you sprinted after the shooter and you heard his voice over the screams of panic, he was calling you back, but there was no way you were letting the man get away. You made it two blocks before he dove into the back seat of a black sedan and fired off a few wild shots as it shot away from the curb.

Grabbing your phone from your pocket you dialled Max’s head of security and it picked up on the first ring. “1NF 2DU, Toyota Caldina,” you panted as you leaned against a building and watched the car disappear around the corner. “Male, early 30’s, brown hair, and fucking short. 9mm Beretta Nano.”

“Got it,” Harry noted before the phone was jostled. “Schatje, where are you? Are you alright?”

You looked down at the tear in his jacket and pulled it aside to see blood soaking your blouse beneath. You closed your eyes as the burning spread to your lungs and your panting grew more laboured. “I’m fine, baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, they won’t let me leave,” he growled the last part at Harry who was holding him back from chasing after you.

“Good…that’s good…you’re good,” you sighed in relief and slid down the brick wall. “I love you, Max.”

You heard what could only be described as a roar of pain before the line died and you were left looking at the background image on your phone. You had never been happier than that moment of waking up in Max’s arms on a lazy Sunday before the season began, your head on his bare chest and Achilles curled up on your feet with Jimmy and Sassy. The daily stresses of life hadn’t begun to claw itself to the forefront of your mind and nothing existed outside of those four walls.

 As a teenager you lived life a day at a time, not caring if it was the last one because you had never had something to look forward to. Now, the longer you stared at that photo, determination grew stronger than the pain in your chest and you cut your palms on the brick as you pulled yourself to your feet. 

“Liefje! Y/N!” Max’s voice carried above the sound of sirens and you tried to call back to him but only a hacking cough sawed through your lungs and your vision dimmed. “Where’s the fucking ambulance?”

Your steps faltered as you followed his voice and when your legs collapsed beneath you his strong arms were there to catch you.

Max thought about just going to the car but there was a young boy holding out a cap and he couldn’t leave the little guy disappointed. He looked up to tell you he would just be a moment when he saw you shift suddenly, then the gunshot rang out. Everything moved so quickly as bodies surrounded him and the crowds screamed in the chaos, and he lost sight of you making chase down the street. 

“Max, stay down, we’ll get you out of here,” Harry stated calmly as he pulled Max away from the policemen. 

“I’m not going anywhere without Y/N.”

“These are her orders, shh,” Harry growled as he saw your contact calling and answered in an instant, listening intently. “Got it.”

Max snatched the phone from Harry before he could hang up. “Schatje, where are you? Are you alright?”

The pause was long enough for him to hear his heartbeat in his ears and when you finally answered your voice didn’t sound quite right, “I’m fine, baby, are you okay?”

Max looked at Harry who was using his muscle mass to build a wall between him and the street you had run down. “I’m fine, they won’t let me leave.”

“Good…that’s good…you’re good.” Your voice was growing quieter as he grew more agitated. “I love you, Max.”

Max looked at the floor where he had last seen you and noticed the darkened spot of blood stains that led away from him. Strength he had never known flooded through him and not even Harry’s arms that were as thick as Max’s thighs could hold him back. His trousers threatened to rip from the long strides and the quick pace of Max’s sprint and he screamed for you, praying for an answer as he followed the blood drops down the street.

Max knew there were people following him as he ran to the silhouette he innately knew was you. “Where’s the fucking ambulance?”

“On its way.”

The street lights illuminated the pain etched in your face when you tried to walk to him but your legs collapsed. “I’ve got you, liefje, I’ve got you,” Max promised as he felt his hands grow slick with the blood leaking out of your side. “I’m not letting you go.”

Max could count on his hand the number of times he had felt true fear. He remembered the way his mother cried when she had him down to tell him she was leaving and how she wished she could take him too. He could remember the sound Achilles made when the neighbours dog escaped their property and chased him. He would always remember the look in your eyes before they closed.

For three days Max sat at your side, only moving from the room when you were wheeled away for scans and tests. Christian stopped by each night for an update that hadn’t changed and flowers arrived from the Board but Max dumped them straight in the bin, but other than that the room was empty and quiet. 

Max knew he wasn’t liked by a lot of people but he never really believed that his life had become a target. You loved that he was still naive to the dark side of the sport and you happily became the shield that protected him from the innocence that had long been stolen from yourself. It was why you put yourself into the trajectory of the bullet meant for him. 

Max could still see the footage that Harry had found from the lobby cameras. He had nearly thrown the laptop across the room where he waited for you to come out of surgery. That minute shift, the smallest of movements, had saved him - but at what cost?

“I found a little house,” Max said quietly as he held your hand. “It has an orchard and plenty of space for our babies, and no city around for miles. It needs some things fixed up before we could live there, but it sounds like a good place to retire.” He closed his eyes and lay back in the uncomfortable chair, your hand still resting in his so he could feel for any sign of life.

“I didn’t die just for you to retire now,” you rasped, your throat dry and voice hoarse.

Max was on his feet in an instant, capturing your face delicately as he kissed you with a sound that was some cross between a sigh of relief and a joyous laugh. “You didn’t die, liefje, I couldn’t have survived that.”

“I’m pretty sure I met the devil,” you groaned as you tried to sit up, “he spoke Italian.”

“That’s just Benedetto,” Max said with a flat laugh, placing a hand on your shoulder to stop you moving while the other pressed the call button. “You need to keep still.”

You weren’t impressed by the intrusion of the doctors and nurses who came flooding in and after answering dozens of pointless questions, because yes you were in pain after being shot, they finally left again. 

“They’re just doing their job,” Max murmured as he found space on the bed to sidle in with you. He carefully shifted you so that he could lay his arm out before tucking you in to rest your head on his shoulder. “Let them prod and poke you until they are satisfied you are completely healthy again.”

“I just want to go home-hey! Why aren’t you at the track?”

“Did you seriously think I would leave you?” Max shook his head at the idea and kissed your forehead. “You risked your life to save mine, I know exactly where I want to be.”

The stitched in your side stretched as you craned your head back so he could reach your lips. You had thought there would never be another kiss so you were going to savour the feeling that came with it. “I love you, Max.”

“Ik hou van jou.”

[ajortga]

just too late

pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary: where tara can't help but regret the outcome of her consequences, she was just too late. how can a heart love if it is no longer beating?

warnings: massive angst, death, stabbing, blood

word count: 3.5k+

a/n: based of a request i got on wp! honestly, i wrote this months ago and got to the end, but their request was so similar that i redid it. posting a small second part soon<3 also omg, thank you for 500 followers!

-

You had just visited Tara, a bouquet of roses in one hand as you knocked on the door. You had seen them when walking to her apartment and you knew that they were just perfect for her. You had to get them. As you heard the lock of the door click, Tara opened the door. She peeked out and saw you, smiling shyly. You thought she'd smile back, but instead her smile dropped. 

That had never happened before. 

"Y/N, we need to talk.

You knew something was wrong, something bad was going to happen. Your breath got stuck in your throat as she stepped aside to let you in. You knew the next thing that would happen would not be good.

 fast forward 20 minutes

You stood there in Tara's apartment, Sam eyeing you with a penetrating death glare. You felt like sinking into the floor right there and then. You hated this kind of silence. 

Sam broke the quietness, her gaze stern, "Y/N, this isn't going to work out between you and Tara." She states, crossing her legs as she sighs, "All of it just adds up."

You shake your head, but before you can retaliate, Sam speaks again.

"You know it too. You started dating my sister two weeks prior before the first ghostface attack. The police found your necklace right next to the victim, covered in blood. I can't trust you and have you near my sister. All of us," she states, twirling her finger in a circle, "Are in danger and I can't let my baby sister get hurt again. None of us trust you, not Mindy, not Chad, and definitely not me. You are going to stay away from her, no more coming over or seeing each other at school. Do I make myself clear?"

"You believe a piece of evidence that barely proves anything? They didn't even find my DNA anywhere!"

"Gloves."

You felt rage crawling its way out, you couldn't believe your girlfriend's sister would think you're the killer. Sam knows all too well how much Tara loves you. "You know I wouldn't hurt you! Least of all Tara! I love her with my whole heart and I would never even think of that! I-I don't know how my necklace got there, someone framed me!" You turned to Tara, blinking away tears that stung your eyes, "Tar.. You believe me right? Please tell her. I didn't do anything! Please don't leave me."

"Please.." you begged. You saw the way her gaze slightly cracked, you knew she didn't believe you. You could feel it, you wouldn't care for fucks sake if Mindy, Chad, or Sam didn't believe you. But Tara was different. It felt like a swing to the heart, it hurt so much. It felt heavy.

Tara didn't do anything but give you a hurt look, staring down at her fingers. You expect her to throw her arms around you, tell you that they all got it wrong and you can both live happily ever after in the end. Yet she doesn't.

"I'm sorry Y/N," she forces her shattered voice in her normal tone, swallowing a cry clawing to come out, "I don't trust you anymore, I don't love you. I-I never did. I just.. Don't think you should visit anymore. We're done."

You felt like your whole heart shattered at that moment as you heard her last two words. You looked at her as you sobbed in your hands. Hurt, mournful, betrayed.

All that Tara said was, "You need to get out please," her eyes pink and glossy.

"You don't understand Tara, please I'm begging you-"

"Y/N, I'm not going to say it twi- It's n-not me Tara!" you say, this point a small cry escaping you. The way Tara looks at you is wild.

Your girlfriend's voice raised, with a fury, she wasn't going to say it again, "Get the hell out! Do you need me to say i-it twice? I don't fucking love you! I don't want to see your face again!"

You flinched, you never felt more heartbroken in your life. Your heart hurt, it felt like someone had smashed it with a hammer. Tears that threatened to fall down were now dropping on the floor. All the moments you've spent together were now thrown away, stomped on. You felt your body shaking as you toss the flowers, leaving them to fall on the floor with a thud. 

You simply nod, slowly.

"Fine." You say, more flat than ever, turning to leave as you feel the petals get stepped on by your shoe. 

All you wanted was to brighten your girlfriend's day, entering with flowers in your hand and just wanting to cuddle her all day long. Yet, here you are, your girlfriend now turning into you ex, flowers dead, no cuddles, no more trust.

Tara felt horrible, the guilt eating her alive. All of her words were lies, she just knew that if you were to separate from her, she would keep you safe. You wouldn't be the target for ghostface if he thought you were just a normal person in Woodsboro. You would be safe. She tried to assure herself that as you slammed the door. 

Her eyes met the squished flower that escaped from the bouquet on the floor and she wondered if she'd ever get flowers from you again after everything.

-

You stared at the picture frame placed on the counter of you and Tara together hugging with matching clothes, you choked on your sobs. Tara nor your friend group had chatted with you since then. Sam had blocked you on social media. At least your other friends had came along and checked up on you to make sure you were okay. Tara had sent a few messages, saying she was sorry that things had ended up like this, but to realize you blocked her.

You couldn't function properly, your eyes were dry with the amount of tears you released in the past week.

It's not your fault, you tried to assure yourself. You weren't ghostface. You can't believe the person you trusted most didn't even put her trust in you.

Maybe it all is your fault. Maybe if you were different, in personality, how much the core 4 really liked you, you wouldn't be here, crying like those teens in the movies that just feast on a gallon of ice cream. It makes you cry a little harder while you hug your teddy bear.

Especially the taunting memory of Tara screaming at you, tears blurring your vision as you stumbled back out of her apartment. Sam's eyes softening just a little bit, not meaning for this to happen. Yet you didn't even try looking into her eyes, too caught up with your own feelings to feel her sorrow.

The past few days, you've locked yourself up, abandoned school. Ignored the core 4, blocked Tara and the other three.

Your mind wandered, you were clouded in your own thoughts as you sobbed angry and hurtful tears. You cried to the point where tears stopped falling, and you were left with feeling nothing and your body feeling sore. Your breathing was still heavy, you let out heavy shaky breaths, but they started to cool down.

You closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing, until you heard your phone buzz from the ground. You picked it up, there was a message.

A part of you expected your friends to check up on you, since that's what they've been doing every since you've stopped going to school. Instead, you were met with a picture from unknown of the abandoned movie theater not too far from here. There, you saw the camera facing a knife pointing towards Tara and Sam, threatening, daring. 

Your eyes widened, as you immediately take your keys and bust out the door, grabbing a small knife, maybe you'll need it, unblocking Tara and calling her and all of those you knew must be in there. They're in danger.

Each call leads to voicemail, from both Tara and Sam, you search up their location. The only one shared for you is Tara's. You almost smash it to the front of your phone holder, locating where they are at.

As much as you hurt, you knew that you would never heal knowing that someone you loved was at risk. The car engine roars to life as you head for the theater.

With each texts and call ignored, you get paranoid, worried sick. Stepping on the accelerator of the car, your car turns a corner and is out of sight.

"She fell for it, she's coming your way," a taunting voice rasps into their phone, Ghostface.

"Our plan is just setting into action."

-

Carefully, you slip into the door of the run down theater. You hear clatters, and immediately you freeze, hiding a corner and peeking out. Tara's scream echoes through the theater, your eyes widen and you look around, for something sharp. 

This is a stupid shrine committed to ghostface, you realize. It makes it a little better, at least you're guaranteed a knife to defend and fight with?

You sweep a corner, the room your in is silent, and you creek down the floor board, being greeted with glass display cases.

You're not good with blood, yet there's evidence from ghostface's mark years ago. TV's, a knife laced in the red crimson color. A gag almost leaves your lips, yet you open the display case and your hands grasp around  a cool metal. It's a knife alright, not too sharp if you were to drop it you wouldn't cut your whole toe off. Yet it's do-able. 

"Tara?" your voice echoes, walking around and exploring, you're frantic. You keep hearing her voice mail ring through your ears and your worry increases.

You thought the room you were in was obsessive with ghostface, yet when you go into the middle of this shrine, it's filled with obsessive things. Masks, robes, knives, even the TV that Stu Macher was killed by. A shiver escapes you.

You look up, and you see the chaos going, glass shattered on the floor, action buzzing around. You see Tara.

"Tara!" You shout, trying to keep your voice low, your eyes meeting the ladder that goes up, you climb on it, grunting in effort. You climb, climb, climb, climb, until you reach the top.

Tara is with Sam, they're talking about their plan, they're a couple hundred feet away from you. The sister's clothes are smothered in blood, Sam's arm has a wound, and you feel sick seeing the blood seeping from your girlfriend's clothes. 

Your about to say her name, until you see a shadow emerge. It's not any that you know, this one is dark, tall, more man-like. 

It's not until you see the tilt of their head the sliver of light reflecting off their mask. Ghost face. 

You don't know what gotten into you from the adrenaline from the moment, but your legs begin to run, move, nothing sounds more fitting than slow motion. His knife lifts from his chest, the sharp metal edge glistening.

You try to scream, the words bubble up in your throat, comes out in a dry cough.

Your legs feel like jelly, run faster, damnit. 

They can't see him, he's behind them, tucked just 2 feet away in a corner, yet you see him. You can save Tara and her older sister, you can save the both of them, you have time. 

You can save the both of them, your love outplays your brain. It's telling you to stop, you're going to get killed. But your heart overwhelms it, beating quicker, with each beat all you can hear is 

Tara

Tara

Tara

Save

Her!

Tara

You

Have

Time.

The knife ghostface is holding gets brought down.

"Tara!" You finally scream, it comes out as a desperate cry as you lunge towards her. Her eyes turn from the setting below her to you, confusion, then shock as your hands shove her shoulders. The strength you built up finally goes to use, pushing her out of harms way, she shoves into Sam, as they both stumble back. 

You hear them both say your name, confusion at first, before the second time they holler it out. It's a scream, yet it dies down in your ears, feeling the cool metal of the blade slam into your shoulder. The ring from Tara's screams fade, replaced with the blood pulsing in your ears. The pain, the sharp knife sinking into the flesh of your shoulder. All you can do is let out a soft cry, too tired to scream. 

Your eyes water, looking up at ghostface, the ugly mask boring into your eyes. He tilts his head, shocked for a moment. Until he tilts his head back again, like the target he hit is even better than what he wanted. They didn't expect you so soon.

The knife tears out from your flesh, a sob leaves your throat, kicking and flaring your arms. 

"Y/N!" Tara screams your name, this one you can hear. She's crying, sobbing, wailing. Begging for her older sister to let her go and save you. 

Sam shushes her, all they can do is watch. All Tara can do is watch you suffer.

His knife slams into you again, your abdomen. You hear a disgusting squelch as it goes in. The pain is unbearable, this stab hurts even more than anything you can think about. You thought the 4 foot thorn going through your foot was bad. You cry, grabbing the knife that's tucked into your pocket and slam it against the black coat, right where the neck meets the shoulder.

A raspy whisper escapes your lips, "F-fuck you." You snarl.

You barely hear him grunt. Yet he doesn't back down, in fact, you hear the disgusting squelch again.

And again.

And again.

The pain lessens. You know why. You're dying.

You can't hear it anymore, but there are now several stabs on your abdomen. You collapse, blood seeping through your clothes, your hands, your face. It's warm, dark red, spreading. It oozes out of your wounds, and the squelching sounds are gone. Your eyes flutter, seeing the flurry of the white masked figure leaving you to rot. Your body collapses to the floor with a loud crash.

You saved Tara, you would die before he could ever kill her. Before she could ever die. If Tara died, you'd kill yourself, or you'd die quicker from a broken heart. 

Sam's yelling, kicking ghostface as he lets go of you, you can barely see her bringing him down to the bottom floor, both of them collapsing off the second story.

Your eyes begin to close, your breath comes in short heaves and wheezes.

And then, you see her, barely, through your weak vision.

It's blurry at first, but you know it's Tara, who else would look so good with blood all over her face?

She presses her body down to you, her warmth barely seeping through, your body is colder. Those warm, soft eyes are wide, looking so scared, hands pressing down deeper to your stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Fuck, no. Nononono.. Why the hell would you do that?" She yells at you, shaking your body, you whimper.

You barely respond, croak her name out, cough out blood.

She's crying, you realize, she's choking on sobs as she cradles you, lifting your body up to her chest. She smells like your favorite scent, sweet.. light.. vanilla.. So lovely.

You just want to be in her arms forever. Let her sweetness soothe the pain.

"Y/N," she sobs, seeing the way you're struggling to stay conscious, you're only holding on because she's there. She can tell the way your eyes are slowly glassing over, your vision is twitching, blurring, un-focusing. 

Don't cry, you want to tell her, even though you know you're here, dying in your girlfriend's arms. But you're too weak to speak, instead, let a slurred murmur leave you. Her hand is clinging to yours, like if she were to let go you would immediately fall away.

"It's okay baby," Tara sniffs, clinging to you. Like if she lets go you'll shatter, "I'm here, help will come soon. Stay with me. Eyes on me baby."

You look at her, your girlfriend, being in her arms. It's your favorite thing, she has a small wound, around her arm to her shoulder, yet it's barely bleeding. Being here, in her arms. It's your favorite thing ever, you've done it so many times to feel her warmth. You never thought you would not be in Tara's arms at night with you buried against her.

Yet you know it's your last time you'll be in them. You can barely feel the warmth she's trying to transfer to you, you're freezing. She senses it too, the way she's hugging you tighter. Pleading you to stay here, with her. The brunette squeezes your hand, distracts you from the pain that's already leaving. Along with your pulse. 

"I'm so fucking sorry," she sobs, "I love you so much, you don't fucking understand," she wails. Pulls you closer to her, "I should have never left you, you mean the world to me, I never meant what I said. I t-thought I could protect you if ghostface knew that you were no longer in our circle."

You wheeze, your eyes never looking away from hers. She notices, how you're studying her, like the moment you don't, you'll forget how she looks like in heaven. 

Freckles, doe-shaped crying eyes. You lift her hand to your chest, let her feel your heart, to let her know that your giving her your heart, your love. You don't want her to forget about you. 

You don't want to die.

Yet if you don't want her to die, you'll die before she could ever. 

Tara's still sobbing, ripping her shirt and tying it against your stomach, the blood seeps through, she tightens it. Looks worriedly down at you. 

Ugly shapes of swiggles and dots cloud, you see random shapes flying. Try to focus on Tara.

Sirens ring in the distance, Tara looks back, yet immediately looks back at you. A tear falls from her stained mascara cheeks, down your shirt. Weakly, you bring it up and wipe her cheeks. Assure her it'll be okay. Yet she knows it's not. They're just too fucking late.

You saved her. That's all that matters now.

"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry my love. I never meant to hurt you. I never thought it would end so soon. I don't want you to die."

You swallow, blood slightly gurgles through your throat, use your dying strength to speak, "I'm h-here." You croak, "T-tara."

"I love you so much," you slur, hiccupping on a cry. Trace the matching necklace she gifted the two of you years past on her neck. You're wearing it too.  Hers was silver, yours was gold. A silver and golden dove.

The blood loss is too much, you can barely speak. But she's here with you, in your last moments. You're able to have a goodbye you might not have had. She might not be ready, but you almost are.

Time wasn't in your favor. It really wasn't. 

This isn't goodbye this is a simply see you later.

She's okay, knowing that makes you feel a little more okay. A little more okay and soothe the worries.

Tara plays with your necklace. A proper goodbye. Her eyes glisten with tears, and she leans down, presses her lips to yours. You kiss her, knowing it'll be the one you'll live to feel. Then you slump back down on the concrete. You don't care about anyone but her anymore. Sirens holler, people bust into the theater, and you look up at her, taking off her necklace and putting it into the palm of her hand.

"I w-want you to promise me one thing."

She sniffles, tears wont stop anytime soon, keeps tying cloth around your deep wounds. It's no use. She nods, "Y-yeah?"

"Promise me y-you won't forget me. E-even when you find someone you love, maybe even more than me. You won't t-throw.." You pause, coughing, "T-throw our memories away.  Promise me that. That when your h-hands hold theirs, you realize that mine was once warmer. When you're by yourself on F-Friday nights, you'll remember that you used to come to mine and cuddle m-me." You hiccup, losing your train of thought, blinking, your words are barely audible, yet Tara can still make them out.

"...When you look at the stars on the grassy meadow, you'll remember that that's the spot we always w-went to to get our thoughts out of things," you barely giggle, it hurts your stomach. "A-and, when you look at all my pictures, or maybe one day I won't pass your mind for once, you'll be ready to let me go. The thought of me still being here. Y-you'll be able to love, even though I might still scar your heart."

She sniffles, seeing the way you begin to struggle on your words, they grow quieter.

"But I won't let that happen, I don't want your h-heart t-to scar," You place her hand on your chest again, "You can have mine."

Tara swallows her tears, still, they drop.

"I love you, Y/N," she sniffles, it's the same word from every other time you both said you loved each other. Yet this time, it's so fucking different. It's the last time you'll ever hear her say it to you while you're still hear. "I'll never love anyone more than I loved you."

"I love you too, Tara," you whisper. It's the last time she'll ever hear it from you. A small, weak smile cracks on your face as she leans down one more time, kisses you softly, taking the last breath from your lips.

And it's time to go. Your chest stills.

And for the last time, she hears your heart beat one more time.

A heart that once beat for her was gone.

[ihave-atummyache]

3 way with ur roomie, hey roomie

ot8 blurb/imagine

stray kids

just my personal thoughts on the topic of ur skz!bf sharing u with another member (;

1.5 words

just hard thoughts i guess? idk im just horny and thinking

bang chan:

would share u with seungmin.

i feel like they would have very different approaches to how they are intimate, however, they both very much so give off brat tamer vibes in my opinion! i think seungmin would be more of a hard!dom brat tamer and chan would be more of a soft!dom brat tamer or even like more of an emotional brat tamer than a physical one. in the context that seungmin would spank you, smack you, spit on you, degrade you, chan would rather have you write that youre sorry 100 times on a piece of paper. im sorry its hot idk dont ask me!

i think their dynamic would work well together because they are so opposite but also so similar that it would be really easy to break you.

also they both would definitely love to see you cry. idk thats what theyre saying!!

lee know:

would share u with chan.

okay, hear me out. i know most people would think that he would share you with jisung but i so disagree!! minho is a possessive, jealous, mfer (hot). that being said, he is also basically joined at the hip with jisung and when you come around, its probably quite often the three of you together.

i dont think minho could stand the idea of you being around someone 24/7 that has seen you naked and felt every inch of you. hes sooo jealous.

but!! i think minchan would make for a great time tbh. theyre both so strong and yummy that it could get really rough, fast!! they're both very conscious of your body and how it is reacting to everything and they work in perfect tandem to make sure youre having a good time :p

you definitely cum so many times you can’t walk by the end of it all!

oh! and they both have greatttt stamina so i can just imagine you guys going at it for hours and hours.

most likely to have been made self indulgently, fueled by my own personal desires.

-on my knees for minchan.

changbin:

would share u with hyunjin.

changbin is so obsessed with hyunjin and its the cutest thing in the world. he thinks he can never be more obsessed with anyone but then, he meets you!

the idea of the two people he adores most in the world being intimate with him at the same time??? hot. hot hot hot. i also think that binnie is such a visual person. seeing you and hyunjin together is probably just pure art in his eyes.

i think that it would actually be super intimate. it would definitely not be something that happens often or casually. it probably happened one night on accident and it was a lot more intimate and intense than you all figured it would be.

changbin and hyunjin definitely kiss while they eiffel tower u. im sORRY!

hyunjin:

would share u with felix.

hyunjin loves felix so much. we all know this. i think that it would be very important that you and felix get along for hyunjin to make the relationship work.

honestly, it wouldnt surprise me if hyunjin were to make you two meet before you meet anyone else. he just values lix's opinion so much and its so cute. with that being said, i think that the idea of sharing you would kind of come naturally.

you and felix have GREAT chemistry and i think it would be hyunjin that suggests it. you three are probably sitting around the table or in the living room and he's just listening to you and felix talk and then he just speaks up with something stupid and hyunjin-like, for example: 'do you wanna have a threesome. like us three?' and obviously you and felix are quite surprised but after it being talked about, youre all down.

felix is probably a little softer in bed and i imagine hyunjin being the same way, except if he get particularly worked up. i imagine sex with hyunjin is usually pretty intimate and more like love-making. he is just such a romantic and values intimacy so much.

theres probably a lot of you receiving great head from the two boys and a LOT of kissing. and they have such nice lipshshshsjash

u definitely have a few bruises left as a reminder.

han:

would share u with minho.

okay okay okay so

im sensing the dynamic of minho actually not really participating and youre both kind of submissive BECAUSE voyeur minho>>>>

him telling jisung exactly how he should touch you or what he should say to you and then he gets all frustrated when jisung doesnt do it right and pushes him out the way and is like 'do it like this' and then showing him exactly how its done.

you're definitely being treated like an object more than a person and it's embarrassingly just that much hotter. i feel like jisung would follow every one of minho's commands without much thought. he trusts him whole heartedly even when it comes to you.

when you do actually have sex with both of them, it’s probably super rough. i feel like jisung would feed off minho’s energy and try to match it, yk?

felix:

would share you with changbin.

okay....hear me out! why do i lowk feel like you could dom changbin and felix so well.... and theyre so muscly and like masculine but you can get them both on their knees for you????? HOT

anyways, felix trust changbin a lot and he has said that changbin is his ideal type in men so... youre his ideal type, changbin is his ideal type, felix is in heaven.

a lot of praise from you has them both flustered and blushing and like putty in the palm of your hand. they could definitely dom you too tho!!! dont get me wrong.

manhandled, thrown up against a wall, rough, marked up, the works. they would probably hold you up at an insane angle so they can both fuck into you at the same time. some crazy karma sutra shit. i think they would be the first ones out of all these duos that would be found out. the way that changbin just suddenly gets a lot closer and touchier with you and the way the three of you would interact, it would be suspicious

most likely to end up in a poly relationship, methinks!

seungmin:

would share u with i.n.

THATS HIS BRO FR.

"seungmin, how do i make a girl cum with my fingers?"

"i can show u better than i can tell u"

and thats how you end up sprawled out on the bed getting edged over and over and over until you can barely feel your body!

"no angle your hand like this, there you go! you feel how this pretty pussy just clenched around you? thats good"

"you could probably make her squirt, she does all the time"

seungmin's words would be filthy. actually talking like youre just a sex doll that they can use for their own pleasure. i.n would probably often return and ask you and seungmin different questions and then youre all in the bedroom

he just happens to be more of a visual learner is all!

least likely to become poly, methinks! im under the impression that out of everyone, seungmin and jeongin would be the two that are most likely to keep things platonic. i think these would also be the most likely two members that have a friend with benefits and genuinely never catches feelings, yk?

okay and maybe it's just my own personal hand kink.... but they both have such fucking pretty hands like oh my goshdmsmshx put them down my throat pls!

i.n:

would share u with jisung.

tbh i think jeongin would be the most likely to share you with multiple members (maybe at the same time but uh anyways) but him and jisung just work.

jeongin is genuinely sooooo fond of jisung and you can just tell. he takes good care of jisung, even though he's younger and i think he trusts him a lot.

however, i think there could be a crazy dynamic here...

dom i.n x sub hannie x sub you?????

why is that kind of hot... and you all know im a big advocate for dom!han but i imagine him being a softer dom, at least a lot softer than jeongin. i.n and minho seem like they would be very similar in their dom ways.

i just cant imagine jeongin being a sub!!! like he IS an aquarius…lets not forget.

him and han’s dynamic is very silly and you can tell that they love each other dearly and feel very safe with one another. like they’re very much themselves around one another. i think thats why han would be able to sub to jeongin. and the irony of him being younger and he’s bossing him around… he would dig. jisung a freak!

han is a certified pussy addict. he eats coochie off the bone!! im imagining you sat back against i.n’s chest and jisung is between your legs just devouring and jeongin has his fingers practically gagging you omg i gtg N O