#and I’ve barely got any clothes that fit

[chxrryrose]

i hate clothes shopping

[highvern]

Drive Me Crazy

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: smut

warnings: strangers to lovers, virgin!JK, dry humping, oral sex, cum eating

Length: ~3.7k

Note: yes i'm insane. no i won't be taking further questions. thank u @gyuswhore for chaperoning my descent into JK madness

summary: You're not the only one with a shitty dating life. Your driver seems to be having a worse night than you can imagine. But things take a turn for the better in the backseat of his car.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“Uber for Y/N?” you ask, stumbling into the backseat. “Thanks. God, you wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man, Ian according to the information on the app, gasps. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You’re a wreck; makeup running, clothes damp from the rain peppering on the window. The last thing you want is some hot guy as your driver for the short journey back to your apartment but at this point you can’t muster the energy to care. 

“Uhhh—”

“You probably don’t want to hear about my shitty night.”

“Well that and—” he starts, cut off before he can say more by your tipsy motormouth. 

“Where does a man get off telling me he isn’t interested in gold diggers when he’s a public school teacher? No offense but what gold?” you ramble. “Not to mention, when I told the waiter to split the bill he asked if I thought he didn’t have any money. Like make up your mind dude.”

“What the fuck?” he asks lowly.

You nod in agreement, hands thrown wide in exasperation. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“That’s fucked up.”

The thickness of his voice doesn’t register in your mind, a broken edgy scratching at the edges of your brain but it doesn’t signal any significant interest “Oh, that's not even the worst part.”

“There’s more?”

“He said ‘I asked too many personal questions.’”

“Like?”

“What he liked to do for fun, if he’s originally from the city, do you like dogs or cats? Literally anything I could think of because apparently he’s allergic to carrying a conversation.” In your hand, your phone rings with an unsaved number. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is your Uber. Did you mean to cancel your ride?”

“What?”

“Ian from Uber? I’ve been circling the block and haven’t found you and you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh! I’m sorry I’ll just—cancel. Yep. Bye.” You stare at the equelly unease expression on Not-Uber Driver Ian’s face, muddled brain racing. If he isn’t your driver that means you got into the car with a random man. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you scream. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he yells back.

You fiddle with the door handle, unable to grab a hold with shaky hands. “Oh my god, you’re a kidnapper.”

“I’m not a kidnapper!”

“That’s what a kidnapper would say!” You fumble for the pepper spray in your bag only to find it absent. It’s not your usual bag. It’s the nicer one that barely fits your phone and chapstick. Damn it.

“YOU GOT IN MY CAR,” he argues.

He makes a good point. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried but you talk a lot.” 

Another good point.

“Oh my god, what the hell,” you gasp. “Why are you sitting here with the doors unlocked? I could have robbed you.”

“I used my last five bucks to buy this ice cream. Just kill me instead.”

You balk. “That’s so sad.” 

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“You’re a horrible kidnapper.”

“And you’re a pretty shitty carjacker so I’d say we’re even.”

If he was dangerous he's had plenty of time to prove it. Instead, when he looks back over the center console, all you see is the red rimmed eyes of a kicked puppy with a bird nest for hair. A ridiculous expression for a man of his size but you pity him nonetheless. He’s harmless. Pathetic. But harmless. 

There’s a story about him and you’ve always been curious. “Okay, not-Ian, why are you sitting in a parking lot eating ice cream on a Friday night? Kidnapper thing aside, this is just sad.” 

He’s hot. Even in nothing but sweats and his own misery. The intimidating kind of handsome that people, men and women, pine over. Hand themselves over on a silver platter if he so much as asked.

“Thanks,” he grunts, going for another spoon of ice cream. 

“So why are you upset?” The rain outside intensifies, setting the scene to bare your souls in his cramped Toyota.

“Ugh…” he hesitates. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t think it can be any more embarrassing than what I just went through.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Why not? If it’s more embarrassing then I won’t steal a bite. Is that chocolate?”

“Cookie dough,” he corrects. “This girl I’ve been talking to ditched me.”

“Because?”

He prepares with a deep breath, steeling himself against whatever motive his fling had. “I’m a virgin.”

“What?” you ask dumbly. Virgin.

Chin tipped back, he swipes at his face in embarrassment. “I told you it's embarrassing.”

“You’re eating your feelings because you’re a virgin?”

“Yes.” He waits for your interjection. When it doesn’t come he hesitantly continues. “And the last person I told laughed in my face and started hooking up with my roommate. So…”

“What a bitch.”

“Yeah. People just assume I’m some kind of man whore.” He explains, head banging against the wheel. “But I’ve never done anything besides… ya know?”

“I have no idea, complete stranger.”

“Like hand stuff.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a virgin,” you snort. “Move over, I’m coming up.”

Shimmying into the front seat takes more coordination than you’re prepared for. The hem of your dress rises to brazen heights, a draft curling around the edge of your panties. Its a feeling you assumed would be happening with your date and not in the car with a random stranger. But beggars can’t be choosers. At least it’s good ice cream.

He pointedly avoids looking anywhere close to your legs. Polite. Innocent. Virginal. How cute.

“Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.” His eyes roll as you settle into the passenger seat, snatching the container and taking a bite from the same spoon he’d been using. 

“Sorry,” you say after swallowing. “Is it because you don’t want to? Because that girl can go fuck herself then.”

“No, I just, I don’t know. I get nervous? They’re expecting someone who knows what they’re doing and I have no idea. And then all I can think about is what if I’m bad at it which makes me more nervous and then I feel like throwing up.”

“Please tell me you haven’t thrown up on a girl.” 

“Ew, no,” he laughs, taking a bite for himself. “I just make an excuse to slow down and then leave.”

“Okay. Well…” You try to think of something, anything, that could make him feel better. It’s not everyday a stranger spills their guts about lacking sexual experience. “So what if you’re bad? It’s not like you can’t get better.”

“Okay, but what girl wants to sleep with a guy who’s bad in bed?”

“How do you know you’re bad if you’ve never even tried? It’s different if you’re bad and you don’t care. Just tell whoever you're with you’ve never done it before. If they don’t jump at the chance to teach you then they can fuck off.”

“Well, Mina rubbed my face in it—”

“Oh fuck her. She seems like a bitch.”

“You’re not wrong,” he says. 

Rain drizzles on the windshield, obscuring the lights into messy streaks. A flood of memories surrounding your own virginity rush to the forefront.

Your college boyfriend, Jimin, wanted to wait. It was cute. High school sweethearts going to the same school, taking similar classes, holding hands in the library. You thought he wasn’t ready and you respected it, found it endearing that he wasn’t like most of the guys your friends dated that couldn’t wait to do it.

Or you did until you decided to surprise Jimin for his birthday with breakfast in bed and got your own surprise. A girl, naked in his bed, Jimin’s own clothes scattered around the room.

You broke up with him right there. Two days of crying later, you invited your lab partner, the one Jimin couldn’t stand, over.

It was Yoongi that sent a selfie of you two cuddled up in bed to Jimin. He still likes to cash in on that favor whenever he needs a dog sitter.

Yoongi knew there were no feelings involved. A simple favor in the form of revenge against a shitty ex. Maybe not-Ian is your chance to pay it forward. By the looks of things, you wouldn’t be suffering.

“Ya know, some girls like guys who are inexperienced. It’s hot knowing you can teach someone how to be good in bed. Like an ego boost.” You shrug. If he wasn’t looking at your legs before but he sure is now. Pink ears and round eyes, his fingers twitch in his lap as you suck the spoon clean. At least the hour spent shaving your legs isn’t going to waste. “Besides, you obviously care how the other person feels, which is more than some dudes.”

“Why would someone not care if the other person feels good?” he asks, tone laced with disgust. “That seems like the entire point.”

“The world is full of mysteries.”

“My name is Jungkook by the way.”

Jungkook. Fitting somehow. It tastes good on your tongue. Like the cookie dough ice cream.

“Y/N.”

You end up in his lap in true stereotypical fashion. A too long silence, his eyes on your mouth and yours on his. Someone leans forward and now you know Jungkook is a great kisser with even greater upper body strength.

His inexperience shows in the fine details: shaky hands, hesitant tongue, waiting for you to take the lead as not to offend. It’s endearing. Someone as big as him treating you with such gentleness. But it means he’s thinking about messing this up and that’s the opposite of what you want. 

You kiss him deeper, a grip on the side of his neck that he eagerly surrenders too. Your other hand wedges between your chests. Teeth nipping at his lip, you rock against him, palming against the soft cotton sweats until he’s plump in your hand. 

“God,” he chokes. His own hands busy themself on your body, one at the seat of your ass, teasing the edge of your dress where bare skin peaks out while the offers a tight grip at your chest, pinching your nipple in desperate retaliation.

“Feel good?” You rut again, a tease for your own pleasure in the form of Jungkook’s heavy breath. It’s decent contact on your core, not enough to get you off but plenty for right now.

Kissing is well in his realm of experience. Obvious from how quickly he finds his bearings, licking behind your teeth. It’s good. Better than dry humping his thigh in the front seat should be. Vision dark from his hands frantic at your ass, thighs rising to meet every torturous curl against the heat of his lap.

You fall into his shoulder, drool staining his sweater as you pant. “Ever had your dick sucked?”

“No.” 

A vein raises across his neck and becomes your new guidemap. Your hand at his crotch squeezes, his cock twitching at the action. “Do you want to?”

“You don’t have to,” he hisses. 

You squeeze his cock again, enough for a needy drive of his hips in response. “I want to.” 

“Seriously?” he marvels.

“If it’s cool with you.” You nose along his jaw, teeth scraping red over his skin. His stomach dips under your hand. “Get in the back, I don’t need to get caught with your dick in my mouth.”

“Holy shit, don’t say that.” He kisses you again, firmer this time. 

You crawl back through the narrow opening between the front seats, ass on full display for Jungkook’s eyes. The heat of his palm ghosts over your legs but he doesn’t touch. The deliberate arch in your spine isn’t enough to break his self control just yet.

He comes next. The struggle is endearing, half stuck between the seats and wiggling forward. “I think I’m stuck.”

“Why didn’t you just go around?” You snort, grabbing around his arms and pulling to no avail.

“Too late now.”

You're both laughing. Breathless because Jungkook is lodged between the seats with zero hope. “Why are you so heavy?”

He wiggles through with your help, nearly elbowing you in the head in the process. But he’s in the seat with his lap as prime real estate. You try to commandeer the space once again but Jungkook stops you. Instead, he settles between your legs, weight pinning you into the door. Broad shoulders block out the light but you take it in stride, fisting the back of his sweater as he finds your pulse.

“Can I go down on you?” He nuzzles down your throat, mouthing the spots he’s learning make you putty in his hands.

“Yeah, sure,” you hiccup. “That’s fine.” 

Jungkook crams between your legs, bending in half on the floor like a contortionist. The sparse kisses across your thighs would be a blatant tease if nervousness wasn’t rolling off him in waves. He’s eating pussy for the first time and acting like it’s open heart surgery.

“Calm down.” You brush a hand through his hair, attempting to be comforting. 

“I am calm.” A bold faced lie. Even in the darkness of the backseat the signs of his impending nerves are obvious. 

“You’re shaking,” you say. “I’ll tell you what feels good. You’re not gonna mess it up.”

An open mouth on your core kiss leaves you sweating with a weak hum. At least he knows where the clit is. Or has a vague idea of its presence. Jungkook presses his face further into the cotton, suffocating himself without realizing. 

“O-oh,” you hitch.

Humiliation brews from such a visceral reaction to something as basic as a kiss over your panties. But Jungkook is out of his depth here and any reaction will stroke his confidence. 

He ducks away, watching you with rapt attention. You’re the teacher and he’s a student eager for whatever validation that may fall from your lips. “Good?” 

“Yeah, do it again,” you praise. 

He nods before diving back in, throwing your legs over his shoulders for better reach. Your pulse jumps with juvenile eagerness. Like it’s the first time you’re left with a boy unsupervised and his hand is the first real thing to touch you between the legs. It makes you feel dirty. Has your hairline sweat and tongue go dry. A bold wash of his tongue couples the next kiss, hot and wet as he laps against the fabric until your own arousal mixes with spit. 

"You fucking liar,” you croak. The back of your head knocks against the window, hips rolling into his mouth.

"What?” Jungkook asks, leaning back but just barely. His breath fans over your skin, a shiver crawling up your spine. “Did I do something—" 

“It’s good. So good,” you praise. “Touch me more.”

He jumps at the chance. Your panties tear down your thighs, out of the way with some rough maneuvering. Bare for his eyes, Jungkook takes more than a fill before diving in for another taste. But not until he spits on your clit and rubs in the mess with his thumb. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate a hard pass of his mouth, more wet kisses burning your cheeks.

“Jungkook, fuck,” you sigh. “When you said ‘hand stuff’ what did you mean?”

“I’ve touched a vagina before if that's what you're asking.”

You swat his hand. “Don’t say vagina, it makes me feel like I’m at the gynecologist.”

“Sorry, a pussy.”

“Don’t say it like that either, weirdo. Have you fingered one?”

Pointed silence is answer enough.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna make fun of you. Just don’t put a finger in my ass and you’ll be fine.”

He doesn't laugh at your poor attempt to cut the tension but he releases a weighted sigh, muscles sagging an inch. Better. Instead, he focuses on stroking you to life between your folds, fingertips nudging your bud teasingly. 

“Use your mouth some more and then finger me too,” you beg. 

“Uh—how many? I don't wanna hurt you." He’s unsure despite the obvious twitch in your thighs. It burns depravity through your veins. His innocence is hot. Jungkook doesn’t even realize how fucked up he has you from some softcore porn level touching.

"All of them. I don't care, I’ll tell you if it’s too much."

One hand firm on your stomach, keeping your dress out of the way as he spreads your insides with two. The first strokes are meek. Nothing to scream over but he’s learning and that’s what's important. Seconds tick by and Jungkook finds a hesitant rhythm. Wet noises echo with each slow sheath, reserved but stretching you all the same. The wet strokes of his tongue are there too, placating just in case. A soft curl of his fingers makes your hips cant into his mouth. 

The fogged windows are a dead give away to what's playing out in the backseat. If anyone stumbles down the sidewalk then you’re both dead but Jungkook’s mouth is distracting in the worst way.

And then he licks between his fingers, tongue slipping past his knuckles for a pure taste of your arousal. You go fuzzy at the edges, thighs squeezing tight until he’s forced to keep them spread or risk having his head crushed.

“Oh–fuck me, god.”

It’s not fair. For him to be good at this so quickly. To delude himself into thinking he could possibly be bad, trying to convince you he’d be bad. Complete unfair how ill prepared you were for Jungkook worshiping your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.

He really needs to be more confident because, in the cramped back seat of his car, you’re losing your mind and it’s barely been ten minutes.

“Can I—” he asks around your clit.

“Do whatever you want, just don’t stop,” you ramble. “Jungkook, fuck.”

A hand of your own sinks into his hair, angling his chin for better access. Wet echoes fill the car, sharp mewls from your lips adding to the noise. Nerves blazing, your ride his mouth for all its worth. Eager slippery circles of his tongue against your clit intensify, built on praising moans of his name.

“Fuck. Tastes good,” he grunts. A squeeze of your hand, the one not pulling his hair and then he’s finding your chest, blind groping until you guide him to your nipple and curve into the sting of his grip. He twists it. Hard. 

You want to cry. The sweat suck of his mouth, fingers confidently curling it that spot that makes the air thinner in your lungs. Moans die between your teeth. Too quick into the next sensation to revel. There isn’t a thought other than Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

“Jungkook!” you cry, grinding into his fingers. Your teeth clench as a third one stretches that extra inch. Stiff in the thighs, you force yourself down into the friction. His tongue hardens, perfect for use as you hump his face weakly.

Your legs kick, scrambling under the sharp pleasure. He’s got you melting into nothing right on his carseat. Jungkook doesn’t lean back to ask for more confirmation; just takes the signs for what they are and keeps going with renewed stamina at the promise of your pleasure. 

“I’m gonna—oh, god. Yessss,” you hiss. Nails sharp against the back of his neck, Jungkook buries his face in your cunt. 

You go rigid, voice breaking into a desperate whimper. Jungkook has the sense to keep going, lashing at your clit over and over with each desperate pulse of pleasure through your veins. Flashes flare behind the darkness of your eyes squeezed tight. You make a few more desperate noises, lurching in his hold before falling lip and worn.

“Fuck, okay. Okay,” you whine, pushing him away from your core before the stimulation becomes too much.

His mouth is drenched, cheeks and chin smeared with your orgasm. A flash of tongue collects some of the mess but you drag him into a kiss before he can go for seconds. First time eating pussy and he’s one for one. If that doesn’t help his confidence then nothing else will. 

“Give me a second and I’ll blow you,” you pant into his lips. 

“I-it’s okay.”

You pout at the brush off, a deep kiss as you invade his space. “I promise I want to.”

Your hand goes for his pants just to be captured with his own. His fingers are still soaked from your insides. “No, I…I came too.”

“Really?” you ask in awe.

Jungkook is embarrassed again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s hot.” You kiss him again with a gentle suckle along the curve of his lower lip. Jungkook drinks it in, crowding you back into the door again like you aren’t a pile of mush. Your back hurts from hunching over for so long but you let him keep you tangled up for a little while longer just to feel the shuddering exhale from his nose across your cheek. “Can I see?”

He swallows thickly before rolling down his sweats. The thin fabric of his boxers are wet, sticky under your shaky hand. You dip below the waist band, fingers grazing the limp ridge of his cock. He’s stuck in the inbetween of soft and hard but still hot and heavy in your hold. Your core throbs in interest at the feeling. 

Jungkook shivers as you swipe at the slit, collecting a bead of cum. You want to get your mouth on him but he looks like he might cry if you keep playing with it.

When your hand retreats, rising to your lips for a taste, his eyes round, mouth gaping over silent words. The pink of your tongue comes out, lapping at the thick mess coating your thumb. 

“Is it okay if I get your number?” he asks after the initial shock wears away.

“Yeah,” you snort. “You can have my number. You can give me a ride home too. And we can do that again in my bed.”

The glee on his face is worth the disgusting mess between your thighs. “Hell yeah.”

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

@seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially @scoupsjin @isabellah29

@luvseungcheol @crisle19

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[stwrkeys]

rafe with an innocence kink / inexperienced reader

“you’ve really never done this before?” rafe asks as youre straddling his lap, his back against the headboard and hand up your top. you shake your head, feeling embarrassed. unbeknownst to you, your lack of experience only makes you ten times more attractive to rafe. he doesn’t think you have any reason to be embarrassed at all. he thinks it’s so adorable how you’re so clueless. you follow every instruction and command of his. you’re completely under his demand because you have no idea what you’re doing. “let’s take this off, yeah?” he tugs on your shirt. “wanna see your tits bounce when you ride me.” you cross your arms over your torso and pull the fabric over your head. you stare into his eyes, waiting for his next instructions. he smirks at your obedience. “take your shorts off.” you untie the string on your shorts and rafe helps you slip them off. in only your panties and bra, you feel exposed. rafe moves his hands behind your back and swiftly unclips your bra, taking in the sight on his lap. “so, you’re telling me,” he pauses as he licks his lips, eyes trained on your tits, “no other guy has ever seen these? or touched them?” you shake your head, feeling ashamed. the smirk on his face turns to a low chuckle.

suddenly, a hand is on either side, massaging both of your breasts. the contact is new to you. before you can react to his hands, you feel his tongue on your nipple, beginning to suck. your eyes widen and you yell his name. “i’ve barely even touched you. not even inside of you yet.” you begin to feel an ache in your core. you needed rafe to touch you. “i’m gonna have you ride my cock like a good girl. think you can do that for me?” he moves your hands to the waistband of his pants, using your hands to unbutton them. he quickly pulls them down his legs, boxers coming down with them, and throws them aside with your clothes. “i can do it, rafe. just need you to show me how. he fucking loves how you’re willing to do anything he asks you to, despite never having done it before. “course im gonna show you how, bunny.” he grabs his cock and gives himself a few slow strokes before lifting you up and positioning it in front of your entrance. “gonna put me inside of your pussy, then you’re gonna fuck yourself on my cock. understand me, pretty baby?” you maintain eye contact with rafe as you grab his shoulders and begin to sink down onto him. your eyes roll back at the new feeling and you let out a whimper. he’s not even fully inside of you yet and he feels so fucking big. you can’t comprehend how it’s going to fit without splitting you open. your grip on rafe’s shoulders tightens as you lower yourself further, allowing him to stretch your hole. “rafe, it hurts too much,” tears start to well in your eyes. “no, no, baby. you can take it. i know you can take it. know you can take it so well.” soon, you feel him completely inside of you. you feel so full. for a moment, you stay in this position. your pussy hugging his cock, arms gripping his biceps, as you catch your breath. “see? you’re doing so good. hardest part’s already over.” he whispers in your ear. he puts his hands on either side of your waist, “ready?” you nod hesitantly, wanting to follow through but paranoid about the pain. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i got you.” he sends you a wink and slowly pulls you up. he begins to move your hips up and down at a slow pace, letting you get used to his size. the pain quickly subsides and you start to feel a wave of pleasure. once you get used to rafe’s movements you start to mock them, moving your hips up and down. he stops moving you, resting his hands on your hips as you bounce on his cock, “fuck, that’s what im talking about, baby. teaching you so well, aren’t i?” but you were too distracted to answer him. he grins and moves his hands down from your hips to your ass. he grabs it and lifts you up, helping you move yourself again. you let out a whimper at the touch. rafe’s head falls back, a groan escaping his throat. he presses his hand to your clit, rubbing it back and forth while bucking his hips into you. “rafe! oh my god!” your back arches and that wave of pleasure turns into a ball in your stomach. “i know, baby, i know. im right behind you. go ahead.” the two of you move sloppily. a euphoric feeling takes over your body and you fall into rafe’s shoulder. as you’re catching your breath, you feel a warmth filling you up. rafe thrusts into you a couple more times, pushing the warm liquid further up into you. you’re still catching your breath against rafe’s shoulder. he takes this time to press a kiss to your neck. “catch your breath now, baby. gonna teach you how to suck me off next.”

[moonstruckme]

if you're okay with smut requests at the moment, giggly sex with james? like they're both just so happy to be with each other that they can barely kiss between their moans AND laughter

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut, mdni

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 930 words

James is upon you the second you get through the door, and between the two of you, you’ve got most of your clothes off not a minute after. 

“Missed you,” he professes, words all smushed up against your mouth as you knock into his glasses with the bridge of your nose. “M’never letting you leave again.” 

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do, tie me to the bed?” You feel a bit like being a tease, but then his hands grip your ass, heaving you up against him, and any thoughts of restraint fall away as a moan escapes you. “Wow,” you say at the hard bulge that’s now slotted conveniently between your legs. “You did miss me.”

James snickers and walks you towards the bed, kissing you harder when you grind against him, desperate for the remaining layer of your underwear to be out of your way. “You’re full of bad jokes today.” His lips are curved against yours as he sets you on the mattress, your legs spreading for him automatically. You lean back, and he bends to follow you. “Why don’t you leave comedy for the comedians, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” you laugh, arching up into his kiss. A big hand snakes in between your back and the bed, and a second later the clasp of your bra comes undone. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good at that.” You’d say you’d almost forgotten how skilled your boyfriend is at undressing you, but you haven’t. 

“Lots of practice.” James waggles his thick, deceptively deft, fingers in front of your face before sliding them down to their preferred spot at your waistline. Your preferred spot too. You sigh blissfully as his big palm drags up and down your side, thumb just barely skimming the skin beneath your breast. “Plus motivation.” He grins, dotting a kiss on the corner of your lips. “I’ve been waiting for this all week.” 

“You’ve been waiting all week for this?” Your eyes nearly roll back in your head when he moves his hips on top of yours, your giggle tinged with delirium. “No ‘how was home, babe?’ ‘how’s your family doing?’” Your goading is interrupted by a small whimper as James’ hand slips beneath the band of your underwear, palming your already slick cunt. “My mom’s doing well, thanks for asking.” 

He slides the moisture up to your clit, tracing tiny circles around the bead that have you fisting your hands in the covers and taking tiny, gasping breaths. “I’d rather not talk about your mum right this moment, if that’s alright with you.” 

Laughter erupts from you, catching in James’ chest too until you’re both dizzy with it. “Guess you’re right,” you admit, letting go of the sheets to tangle both hands in his hair. You pull him closer. “I missed you too,” you tell him between kisses, your teeth clacking together. He tastes all that much sweeter for it. “Missed you so much, Jamie. For more than just this, if that wasn’t clear.” 

“I know.” He nips lovingly at your jaw, stinging with his teeth before soothing with his tongue. “Whatever crimes you try to pin on me, I missed you for more too,” he says, and then his deliciously thick fingers slip inside you. “You did miss me for this too, though, didn’t you angel?” 

“Fuck.” You bite his lip as he works those blessed fingers into you, middle and marriage testing the waters before beginning to scissor gently. James laughs at your reaction, and you both flinch back when his teeth clank against yours. 

“Sorry,” he says, shoulders shaking as he cups the back of your head. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

“Fucking just—ahh—just chip my tooth while you’re at it.” You’re bordering on nonsensical and part of you knows it, your stomach nearly cramping as you laugh through the building pressure in your core. 

James curls his fingers inside you, and if you had enough working brain cells left, you’d wonder how he does it through the giggle fit that’s seized him. “Hey, you started it.” There’s not a lick of malice in his tone as he presses sloppy kisses to your cheek, still laughing. “Nearly bit my lip off.”

“I knew—you could take it,” you pant.  

“Oh yeah?” James’ fingers slip out of you, and you look down as he works your underwear down your legs. They’re sopping wet. “Wanna talk about what you can take, angel?”

“Now who’s the one with the bad jokes,” you mutter, and his laughter is booming even as he slips his hands under your ass, angling himself into you. 

He pushes inside you and bends over you instantly, pecking insistently at your lips. “You,” he snarls playfully, emphatic (and, you think, happy beyond belief if his hard dick and giant smile are decent enough indicators). “You’re impossible, you know that?” 

“I think—” you gasp as he shifts inside you. “You know what? Shut up.” 

James’ guffaw is ecstatic, but he actually complies, kissing you from chin to temple as he pushes slowly in and out of you. You laugh giddily as you mouth underneath his jaw in return, your hands sliding over the broad expanse of his shoulders while his work diligently at your breasts in that incredible way he knows how. 

Your giggling subsides until you’re just breathing together, your kisses turning more languid, and you’ve almost gotten your shit together, almost found your rhythm, when James’ thumb brushes over your nipple and a breathy fuck slips past your lips. 

“Well, I’m trying to, if you’d stop interrupting.” 

And you both crack up all over again. 

[mywritersmind]

SAVIOR - LN4

pt.2

summary : Y/n’s favorite place has quickly become her and Lando’s shared hallway. They grow closer and finally make it to the fresh air.

OG SUMMARY (When y/n’s absent neighbor shows up, causing her great annoyance with smoke and repetitive beeping, she marches over to tell the man off but is met with a handsome face and strong hands that are in distress.)

listen up : no warnings!! y/n is clueless abt f1. lando is silly. i’m craving strawberries now.

word count : 1878

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I haul my five grocery bags into the elevator, struggling to keep them all off the ground. I sigh when I finally still in the metal box, i’ve carried these at least two blocks and one had broken on the way.

The doors are about to close but a hand slides in between them, making them automatically open for him.

Hello my hot mysterious neighbor.

He looks relieved he made it, “Y/n!” He says cheerfully, like we’ve known each other for ages. It’s been a couple weeks since I slammed on his door and stomped through his kitchen.

The other side of the hallway had been quiet until last night when I heard keys rattling and the door opening. I can’t help but wonder what he does that keeps him from home so often.

“Lando, Hi!” I smile back as he slides beside me and presses our floor.

“You need help?” He eyes the bags as I bite my lip, not wanting to bother him. I don’t have the time to respond because he takes three bags out of my hands like it’s nothing.

“Thank you.” I sigh, “I’ve been struggling for like two blocks.” He laughs a bit with me as the numbers get higher and higher.

“I’m happy to help.” We finally reach our floor, Lando watches me go first and walk to my door, unlocking it and walking in.

Lando follows hesitantly, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

“Thank you again! I put myself in a bit of a bind when I decided that my friends need fifteen types of salami and cheese.” I place the bags on the counter, Lando following.

I push back my hair and suddenly wish I had cleaned up a bit more. My friends are coming over tonight and I had decided to push back my cleaning. Looking around at the clothes and old popcorn bowls scattered around makes me want to slap myself.

“Really, I like to lend a hand! I never get to be neighborly.” He shrugs.

“What do you do for work? If you don’t mind me asking?” I start placing the cold items in the freezer.

He leans against the counter, his arms holding him up and looking alarmingly fit, “Uh… You ever follow Formula 1?”

I nod, “Kinda? I used to love it!” My mom and I would watch every sunday but I stopped in college so I don’t know any of the current grid, “So you work in the sport! That’s cool, pretty hands on?” I ask as he laughs a bit, looking awkward.

“Yeah, I work with the cars.” He looks around my place a bit, “So, why does one need this much food? I’m judging or anything it’s just… You don’t seem like the type to need a jumbo sized pretzel bag.”

I smile and snatch the bag from him, “I could definitely eat all of this by the way! But I'm having a bit of a party tonight. If anything’s too loud just let me know! It’s just old friends from college- actually.” I look up at him, a boost of confidence appearing in me, “You could join us. If you’re not busy.”

It suddenly sounds like a ridiculously stupid idea. I turn back to the fridge, placing a bottle of lemonade in it and cringing.

“I would love to.” I let out a sigh of relief, “But I've got plans…” I frown and turn back to him, finally putting away the last of my groceries.

“Aw.”

“It’s really nice of you to invite me.” I smile, a bit sad and confused why I'm disappointed. I mean I barely know the man. “What do you do for work?”

I lean against the counter so I'm across from him, “I’m a writer. Journalism right now but I really want to take a more bookish route…”

He genuinely looks so intrigued, more interested than anyone else who I've told I write articles about neighborhood drama.

He checks his watch, which I'm now realizing is incredibly expensive, and swears, “I gotta go. Have fun with your party tonight.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I definitely do have fun. My friends and I eat, drink, and play board games just like we’re back in dorms. I’m seeing my last and closest friend off when Lando comes up the hallway, As my friend's eyes go wide when she sees him, I shake my head.

“Goodbye!” I push her out of my apartment, “Love you!”

“Yeah love you too! Text me!” She walks past Lando, nodding at him before she turns behind his back and mouths ‘he’s hot’.

I roll my eyes at her, a smile still on my face as Lando looks at me. He’s in a full suit, holding his blazer in his hand.

“Fun time then?” God he’s hot!

“Absolutely!” I giggle, a bit tipsy, “How about you then?” I eye his suit.

“As good as I could make it.”

I slap my hand over my mouth, “God you aren’t coming from a funeral then, are you?”

He laughs at this, “No! No. A work banquet thing.”

I giggle a bit as he turns to his door, “Hey!” I say without thinking, “Would you want to come in? I have wine.”

He’s sitting on my couch thirty minutes later, a glass deep and talking about where he’s traveled too.

“That’s my dream!” I say, my feet tucked under myself as I tilt my head on the couch cushions, “Traveling. I mean- You’ve been everywhere!”

He shrugs, sipping his wine, his tie undone and shoes off, “It’s amazing but I'm not there for long so I don’t usually get to sightsee much. Honestly the most interesting thing that’s happened to me recently is this pretty girl came to save my baking disaster.”

I hum to his words, blushing a bit, “Sounds like a hero if i’ve ever heard one.” We both go silent, taking pieces of my leftover charcuterie board. “Should I start watching F1?”

“No!” He says it so quick that i’m taken aback.

“No?”

He laughs a bit, shaking it off, “It’s boring. I can’t have someone else in my life talk about it.”

I spin my wine around in the glass, “So I'm someone in your life now?”

He smirks, “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

I pretend to contemplate this, “I’ve never had a friend who hasn’t gone to the strawberry market with me.”

He makes an odd face, “So we must go then.”

I sigh, “If you want to be my friend…”

The corner of his mouth pulls, “Tomorrow at 9?”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

He’s at my door at 9:12. Thank god he’s late because I hop over to the door, pulling on my shoe and pulling down my jean skirt.

I open the door and stand up straight, smiling breathlessly. He, of course, looks perfect in jeans and an olive green shirt, “Morning.”

“Ready to taste the best strawberries you’ve ever had?” I grab my bag and keys.

“So ready.”

We make it to the market just on time. It’s my favorite neighborhood gem. Every Sunday people gather with strawberries. There are big and small, some covered in chocolate and some in honey.

I buy a box of chocolate ones, well Lando does. He insists that he still owes me. Handing one to Lando with an extra fork, he bites into it, his eyes roll, “Fucking hell.” I nod, excited that he likes them as much as I do.

“My favorite treat! Something you can’t burn your house down with.” I eye him and he eyes me right back. Being with Lando is like a breath of fresh air. I’ve never been so confident in my social skills.

He laughs with a shop owner as he buys his pack of plain strawberries. He's so nice and just listens politely as the woman goes on and on about her childhood on a strawberry farm.

He gives her a bigger bill than necessary and as she insists it’s too much, he just shakes his head and continues walking.

We settle at a park bench nearby, tasting all the pieces we’ve bought, “This is genuinely phenomenal.” He says while eating another, “How’d you find this place?”

“Had to write about something local and had total writers block… I was walking around one day and just sort of stumbled upon it.”

He smiles, I really like this smile. “You seem like the type to just stumble upon a strawberry market.”

I laugh, covering my mouth, “What does that even mean?”

“You’re just so…” His hands make these weird gestures, his fingers moving around as he laughs and gives up, “It just fits.”

I smile, meeting his eyes. They're so nice, a mix of blue and green. His gaze washes over me and I feel the need to smile even more.

“You’ve got nice eyes.” My stomach twists as he says it so calmly, “Real pretty.” I feel a blush on my cheeks and I turn away from him, looking at the park near us and being startled by the child looking up at us.

Lando follows my gaze, mumbling softly, “Shit.”

“Hi.” The kid says awestruck, I look to Lando who’s smiling and sitting up straighter. “Um- Are you Lando Norris?”

Lando scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah I am! What's your name?”

“W-William!” He says, swallowing and pulling a pen from behind his back, “Could you sign this?” I glance to what looks like his mother, she’s watching him with a smile.

Lando simply nods and takes the cap from his head, its bright orange. He signs his name and messes up the kid's hair, “Thanks a lot! My friends’ll never believe it!” The boy squeals and runs back to his mom who waves slightly and takes the boy's hand.

I raise a brow at Lando, still confused, “I’m sorry…” He looks embarrassed but I don’t even know what for.

“I’m going to assume you didn’t tell me the whole truth in what your job is?”

His cheeks get a bit red, “I do work with the cars… Just really close. Like I’m in them. One specifically.”

I nod, “Yours?”

“Mine.” He crosses his arms, his lips in a thin line, “I drive for McLaren.” I breathe out.

“Oh.” I can’t help but think I have a type because I grew up with Jenson Button posters on my wall.

He runs a hand through his curls, “I don’t usually get recognized around here- Thought we would be okay.”

“We are okay!” I reassure him, realizing he’s actually embarrassed, “That was sweet.”

He looks up hopefully, “You think? I’m sorry for lying- I just really liked that you didn’t know who I am or what I do.”

“Well, I sort of still don't. I know your full name now, that’s about it.” He smiles at this, I bite into another strawberry.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

He is yet to say something I'm not shocked at.

“Yeah.” I nod, smiling at him as he grins, “I’d really like that. Don’t you have to race soon though…? Singapore, isn’t it?”

The smirk that pulls at his lips is just plain mischievous, “I never said the date would be here.”

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 9

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: evan picks you up and takes you to homecoming, being very excited for you to wear his jersey. while you know nothing about football, you make sure to cheer him on, leading to a bit of teasing from evan’s teammates.

word count: 4.0k

previous chapter

series masterlist

A/N: so after i wrote this i decided to make them students at USC, and after googling their stadium i realized it was way bigger than how i wrote it, so lots of this is barely believable if you’re actually familiar with american college football and their stadiums/crowds/etc (i think? i’m not american). this is so main character coded and also is probably not accurate to real homecomings at all but i don’t care!! just ignore it<3 by the way, the touchdown conversation is also based on my very real (and very awkward) conversation i had with a man (i call it fucking idiot rizz)😔 im so sorry to put you through it rn. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: reader knows nothing about football (affectionate), evan playing football (hot), no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

At 6:00, a knock on the door interrupts your pacing. You can’t help being nervous, thinking about watching a game you don’t know any of the rules for, about going to an afterparty with a bunch of rowdy football players, about everyone seeing you with Evan’s name on your back. As much as it makes butterflies swarm in your belly, a part of you is nervous about the attention it might bring you.

You open the door and are faced with Evan, a wide grin on his face as he takes in your appearance. His eyes trail down your body, noticing your short jean shorts showing off your thick thighs, and your white oversized crop top hanging off your shoulder slightly, showing off a sliver of your soft tummy and cleavage.

“Hi.” you greet him softly, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind you, holding eye contact with him.

“Hey princess, you look good.” he tells you, his hand going to the back of your neck to pull you in for a chaste kiss. You hum softly as his lips meet yours, leaning into him..

“Thank you,” you mumble against his lips. You pull back as he does, and look down, rubbing your hands down your jeans to calm your nerves. “We should go. Don’t wanna be late.” you try to change the subject, grabbing his hand to pull him down the hall. As many times as he’s complimented you in the past few weeks, it still makes your stomach flip and your face to get hot, not being used to all the attention.

“Hey, hold on. I’ve got something for you.” he tells you, a smirk growing on his face as he catches onto your nerves. He pulls you back by the hand, putting his hands on your waist and turning you to face him. You put your hands on his chest to steady yourself as he spins you around, a short laugh escaping your throat as you look up at him.

He holds his jersey up close to your face with one hand, his smirk growing as you reach your hand out to grab it.

“Uh uh. I wanna put it on you myself.” he teases, fingers nudging the underside of your arms, urging you to raise them.

You oblige, shaking your head with a smile, eyes focused on him as he lowers it over your head. He slides it over your body, biting his lip as he takes in the sight. It’s slightly oversized on you, as it has to be quite large to fit over him and all of his gear. It comes down to rest just below the edge of your short shorts, making it look like you’re not wearing pants, which causes you to giggle softly as you look down at the jersey on your body.

You reach down, grabbing one side of the jersey and tucking it into the waistband of your shorts, letting it hang diagonally across you so people can at least see you are wearing shorts underneath his jersey.

“Good?” you ask softly, looking back up at him, but you don’t even need to wait for his words to know that it is. His eyes darken as he stares at you wearing his clothes, and a sense of possessiveness rumbles through him. He has to resist the urge to push you back into your apartment and take you right on your kitchen counter.

“Yeah, baby, you’re good.” he rasps, taking your hand and kissing it softly before pulling you down the hall, pulling you close and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

Once you’re both in the jeep, he makes the short drive over to the stadium; you could’ve walked, but he didn’t want to have to carry his bag the whole way.

His hand finds its way to your thigh almost instantly, his eyes sparking as he glances at you in his passenger seat. You notice how his eyes keep making their way over to you, taking in the sight of your perfect, thick thighs covering the seat, and his jersey clinging to your body.

“What?” you ask after a minute or two, laughing softly as he meets your gaze, shrugging.

“You just look so good in my passenger seat, princess.” he purrs, taking his hand off your thigh for a moment to grab your hand and raise it to his lips. You bite your lip as you look back out the window, noticing the sea of people in red and yellow shirts making their way down the sidewalk to the stadium.

“Are you ready? Excited? Nervous?” you ask after a moment, feeling nerves bubbling in your stomach for him, knowing how many people will be watching today.

“I’m not nervous. You’re gonna be sitting in the front row watching me. It’ll only make me work harder.” he says with a wink as he pulls into a parking spot and puts the jeep in park.

“You’re gonna be great. And I know nothing about football, so even if you aren’t, I won’t be able to tell.” you tell him as you turn in your seat to face him, a small, and slightly embarrassed smile on your face.

“So, you mean to tell me that you agreed to come to my game, and you don’t even know how many points a touchdown is?” He laughs at your words, shaking his head. It makes his heart swell a little; thinking of you being here just because he wants you to.

“Seven?” you say as more of a question than an answer, embarrassment filling your stomach. “If not, then I know less about football than I thought.” you finish with a small laugh, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Close, princess. It’s six.” he says in a gentle tone, a smile glued to his face. You’re so cute, he thinks, he can’t wait to see you in the stands.

“But what about the kick, or whatever? That makes seven, right?” you argue softly, raising a brow.

“Yes, but that’s an extra point. That’s not how much the actual touchdown is worth.” You roll your eyes at his words, laughing softly.

“Alright, whatever.” you get out before his lips are on yours, his hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer to him.

“I appreciate the effort, though. But just because you don’t know anything about football doesn’t mean you don’t have to cheer for me.” he tells you sternly once he pulls back, but you can see the glint in his eye as you nod.

“I’ll just cheer when everyone else does.” you joke, although you’re dead serious. You hope that the game will be easy enough to follow along with, but your plan if it’s not is to wait until everyone else starts to cheer.

“Deal.” he murmurs, leaning in to meet your lips again.

“Okay, lets go. You still need to get ready.” you tell him as you push him away, not letting his lips meet yours. He groans, but then agrees and gets out of the jeep.

He grabs your hands once his bag is over his shoulder, smiling to himself as he feels you wrap your other arm around his bicep.

As he leads you into the stadium, he notices a guy’s eyes on you, and he feels jealousy flare up inside of him. He squeezes your hand instinctively, which causes you to look up at him, completely unaware of the situation.

“Are you okay? Are you sure you’re not nervous?” you ask softly, stepping closer as the crowd gets more and more dense. He nods stiffly, his jaw clenched. Maybe this isn’t as good of an idea as he thought.

“I’m fine, princess. I don’t get nervous,” he tells you, his eyes still ahead of him. “Especially not with my good luck charm beside me.” he mentions after a moment in a softer voice. He finally looks down at you, feeling his jealousy slipping away as he sees your big wide eyes looking up at him.

You hum softly, face growing hot at his words as you look down at the ground, trusting him to lead you through the crowd.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket with the hand that’s not holding yours, groaning as he realizes that he should’ve been in the locker room a few minutes ago. He stops and turns to you, which makes you look up to meet his eyes.

“Okay, I have to go. Can you find your way to your seat by yourself?” he asks, ducking down slightly to better match your height. You nod, biting your lip.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be sitting right behind the bench, waiting to cheer for you when you score a touchdown, which is worth six points.” you tease, rising onto your toes to meet his lips as you wrap your arms around his neck. He happily leans down to meet you halfway, on hand on your hip and the other on your jaw.

“You’re gonna kill it.” you tell him once you both pull away, letting your arms drop from around his neck as you take a step back. He smiles at you, smacking your ass softly as you turn to walk to your seat, eyes glued to the way it jiggles from his touch.

You squeal softly in surprise, then whirl around quickly to look at him. He chuckles, putting his hands up in surrender.

“I can feel my good luck charm working already.” he says with a wink, and you fight back a smile as you shake your head. You turn again, walking to your seat, a smile finally breaking onto your face once you’re turned away from him.

He makes his way to the locker room and gets ready, apologizing quickly as his coach yells at him for being late. He starts feeling his adrenaline growing until it’s time for the teams to come onto the field. He revels in the feeling of so many people cheering for his team, so it takes a few seconds for him to find you in the large stadium, exactly where you said you’d be.

You grin widely as you see him running onto the field, standing in your seat on the aisle and cheering with the rest of the crowd. As he runs over to the bench, his grin widens and he gives you a wink, which isn’t lost on some of his teammates. They look at each other with raised brows, but they can’t tell who he’s looking at in the sea of red and yellow.

The game starts quickly, and you have to admit, you have no idea what’s going on. Your eyes move between the ball and Evan, and you think he’s doing really well, as he keeps blocking and tackling the other team. The first quarter seems to be pretty uneventful, however, as it’s still 0-0 when it ends.

He jogs over to the bench with his team, taking a drink of water. His eyes find yours again and you beam at him before blowing him a kiss. You can’t help it; you think seeing him playing football is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. His smile widens as he pretends to catch it, trying to angle his body so his teammates don’t see his actions, but his smile drops as he hears his teammates laughing behind him. He turns to them, shoving the teammate closest to him, mumbling a small “shut up” before his head turns back in your direction.

You feel bad as you notice his teammates teasing him, and when he turns back to you, you mouth a quick “sorry.” He shakes his head, however, mouthing back “it’s okay” as he gives you another wink.

“Head in the game, loverboy.” he hears behind him, along with a few of his teammates laughing.

He turns back to his friend Owen, mumbling a rough “whatever, man” as he fights back a smile. Despite his clenched jaw and stern expression at their teasing, he can’t help feeling a little giddy as he keeps the image of you in his jersey in his mind.

The second quarter starts, and things start to pick up, and you’re starting to figure out a little bit more about what’s going on. Both teams have scored some touchdowns, but Evan’s team is still up by a few points, which you’re thankful for. You can’t imagine the pressure he and the rest of the team have on them, despite how unphased Evan seemed to be earlier.

You keep your word, cheering when the rest of the crowd cheers, feeling a sense of pride that you have his name on your back whenever he does something for his team. You’re amazed at what he can do, how he tackles and blocks the other team, how he throws and catches the ball. You could never do any of that, you think, you can’t get over how strong he must be do to all of this.

The whistle blows to signal halftime, and you watch as Evan and the rest of the team jog to the locker room. As you wait for the game to continue, you pull out your phone, feeling a little awkward as everyone around you is talking to other people they came with. You decide to text Evan quickly.

You: You’re doing great. You’re gonna kill it in the second half<3

He grabs his phone from his locker as he hears it chime, a smile making its way onto his face as he reads your message. As he’s about to type out a reply, Owen sees the way he stopped responding to him, and turns to face him with a smirk.

“That your girlfriend?” A few of the guys look over as Owen speaks with surprised expressions, not quite used to the idea of Evan having a girl come to any of their games. They’ve seen him with girls at parties before, but he was never serious enough about them for much else.

In an instant, one of the other guys, Luca, grabs Evan’s phone from his hand, another one, Cam, coming in just as quick to block Evan from getting the phone back.

“Look at this, he got a good luck text from his girl.” Luca teases, holding the phone out for a few of the other guys to see. Evan groans, still trying to get around Cam to get his phone back. He can feel himself getting angry, although he knows deep down there’s no reason to be. It feels like they’re stealing you away from him, as if you’re the phone.

“You got a crush, man?” another teammate asks, chuckling softly and patting him on the back.

You watch your text switch from delivered to read, and you’re happy that he’s seen it, but you can’t help but frown when he doesn’t respond. Feeling the adrenaline pumping through you, and feeling a little worked up from seeing Evan playing, you send him another text, hoping to encourage him further.

Luca puts a hand to his mouth as another text comes in, laughing loudly as he looks up at Evan with wide eyes.

“Damn, man. Now I know why you chose her.” he teases, tilting the phone as a few players look over his shoulder at the text. Evan still struggles around Cam, his face getting red in frustration and jealousy. What did you say, he thinks?

“Got yourself a punt bunny, Buckley?” another chimes in right as Evan finally grabs his phone back, looking down at the text quickly.

You: If you win, I’ll give you a reward later.

He can’t help but smirk at his phone, the chatter from his teammates fading into the background as he rereads your words. He’s a little surprised at them, but he can’t help the way his dick twitches at the idea. He starts to think about the many ways you could reward him when his coach starts speaking loudly, going over the game plan one more time before the game resumes.

He types a quick response before shoving his phone back in his locker, listening intently to the coaches words.

Evan: I’ll keep that in mind, princess.

The third quarter starts a minute or two after you get a response from Evan, butterflies filling your stomach as your brain finally catches up with what you texted him. You bite your lip as nerves fill your stomach, but they’re pushed aside as soon as you see Evan in his gear, a wave of desire flowing through you again.

Everything is going well until there’s only three minutes left in the quarter. You watch as a player comes out of nowhere, tackling Evan to the ground. He stays down for a few moments after the other player gets off of him, groaning in pain.

You shoot up from your seat, raising a hand to your mouth as your breath catches in your throat. Dread fills every inch of your body as you watch him lay still, fighting the urge to run onto the field and make sure he’s okay yourself. Why isn’t anyone checking on him, you think as you watch intently, barely blinking as you study his form.

Finally, he sits up slowly, shaking his head before he gets up. You let out a shaky breath, feeling your shoulders drop as he slowly stands up and signals he’s good to keep playing. You bite your nail anxiously as you keep your eyes on him, not even focusing on the ball until the quarter is over.

He makes his way to the bench, his body aching a little, but nothing he’s not used to. He takes his helmet off and looks up at you, immediately noticing your unease. He gives you a thumbs up and a wide smile, hoping to calm your nerves, and it works slightly. You stop biting your nail and give him a small smile, but you want this game to be over immediately so you can make sure he’s okay.

You see that they’re now down by a point, and you wait anxiously for the last quarter to start, barely paying attention to anything as your eyes go unfocused and your eyes move across the stadium.

Evan’s heart swells at your nervousness. Although he doesn’t want you to worry, he can’t help the warm feeling in his chest because he knows you’re worried about him.

The fourth quarter is almost over, and Evan would be lying if he said his head is completely in the game. He’s still playing as hard as he can, but he can’t help his mind wander to you in his jersey, and the text you sent. He knows that this game is important, but all he sees when he glances at the scoreboard is how many minutes until he can get you back to his place.

The game ends, and the entire stadium erupts in chaos, and you can’t help but shoot up from your seat, jumping up and down with the rest of the crowd with a huge smile. They won.

You watch the team celebrate with each other on the field, and you can feel the excitement coming off of them. You know it’s Evan’s last year on the team, as you’re both graduating at the end of the year, and you’re so happy that his last homecoming game is ending with a win.

You watch as the teams make their way off the fields, and you wait a few minutes for the stands to clear out slightly before making your way towards the locker rooms, standing where you and Evan parted ways earlier.

He’s quick to change once he gets to the locker room, not even bothering to shower before he throws all his things in his bag. He celebrates with his teammates for a few minutes, but as they start to get ready to shower, he’s leaving the locker room faster than he ever has.

You lean against the wall as you anxiously wait to see Evan exiting the locker room, and you can’t help the squeal you let out when you finally see him, a large grin erupting on your face. You practically run over to him and wrap your arms around his neck, overwhelmed by the happiness you feel. He drops his bag and wraps his arms around your waist quickly, a soft noise escaping his throat as you run into him.

“Hi, princess.” he says at the same time as you say “you did so good.” You both laugh softly before he responds in your ear, not wanting to let you go.

“Of course, I did. I had my good luck charm with me.” You laugh softly, pulling back just enough to meet his lips in a searing kiss. But, almost immediately after you kiss him, you pull back, a worried expression taking over your face.

“Are you okay? You took a pretty hard hit.” you ask softly, your hands moving to his cheeks, searching his eyes for any sign of pain. He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he feels his cheeks flush slightly.

“I’m fine, princess. Don’t worry about me.” he whispers before leaning in again, pulling you as close to him as he can with his hands on your waist. He pulls back after a moment, not wanting to get caught by the rest of the team;

he knows he’d never hear the end of it.

He picks up his bag and wraps his arm around your shoulder, leading you back to the jeep. You look up at him beside you, noticing the gleam of sweat on his face, and the way his hair sticks to his neck.

“Are we going right to the party? Or are you gonna shower first?” you ask teasingly, giving him a cheeky smile as he looks down at you with a scoff.

“I’m gonna stop by my place and shower quick, princess, don’t worry.” he tells you, giving you a wink as he pulls you closer. You gag jokingly, pushing him away from you, mumbling a “good” as you finally get to the jeep.

“You’re welcome to join me if you want.” he says once you’re both in the jeep, looking over at you with a raised brow. You can feel your cheeks heating up as you meet his gaze, fighting back a smile as you shake your head.

“I don’t get that, it makes no sense. Showers are supposed to be relaxing. If there are two people, one person is standing in the water and the other person is cold.” you tell him seriously, although the more you think of it, the more you like the idea of showering with him. He chuckles at your response, rolling his eyes as he begins to drive the short distance back to his place.

“Well, yeah, if the other person is selfish. You wouldn’t be selfish in the shower, though, would you?” he teases, grabbing your thigh tightly, his thumb gently running across your inner thigh in a drastic contrast.

“I guess you’ll never know.” you tell him teasingly, smirking as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, but I’d like to.” he murmurs as you look out the window, which makes you laugh softly, shaking your head again.

As you make your way to his house, you can’t help the grin plastered to your face. Evan has the windows down, blasting his music, and you can hear the giddy chatter of passing students as they walk down the sidewalk. His hand stays on your hand the entire time, and as you take in all the joy in the air, you feel the excitement bubbling up inside you for the night to come.

next chapter

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[luvrodite]

JASON X F!READER [14.8K]

synopsis. the room, at a glance, looks like it would belong to a beloved child. you smile at the massive bookcase that spans nearly an entire wall, the toys neatly arranged in their chest. a pair of matching hand prints are stamped into the white trim of the windowsill, matching the paint of the wall, one much smaller than the other. the only problem, you realise when bruce crosses the room, is that the room is devoid of an inhabitant. 

content warning. fem!reader, inspired by The Boy (2016), dark content, horror, extreme dubcon, non consensual voyeurism, violence, death, blood, masturbation, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie please let me know if you feel i've missed any tags

additional note. idk i’m trying my hand at something new but also this isn’t for everyone and that is OK! please don’t read if you’re not interested in the above tags and remember that you curate your own internet experience. peace and love.

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You see the notice when you need it the most. Seeking Household Manager/Nanny for Child, written in small bold letters on the corner of your friend’s open newspaper. You’re glad then, for their insistence on subscribing to the papers of surrounding cities, the Gotham Gazette something akin to a beacon of hope when you nearly topple over yourself to reach for the issue and scan the ad. When they’ve saved the glass of wine you nearly knocked over, their eyebrows furrow into a disdainful frown. 

“You’re not seriously considering that.”

You look up from the black and white print, breathless. Immediate start. 9 to 6 weekdays. Boarding and meals provided.  “It isn’t like I’ve got that many other options.”

They grimace, leaning over to skim the print. “It’s in Gotham. You’re just asking to get robbed, at the very least. Have you ever even looked after a kid?”

The double digits in your bank account weigh on you, the suitcases that have been pushed into their storage closet. The couch that’s served as a bed for the past month has begun to mold itself to the shape of your body – and isn’t that a humiliating thought, for how much had been spent on it, it deserves more than for its primary purpose to be housing a poor girl. Your friend sits beside you, clad in thousands of dollars worth of clothing and sneers at what’s beginning to look like the only option you have.

You push down the urge to bite back, eyeing them pointedly instead. “I can’t afford to be picky. Besides, I’ve babysat my cousins before. It’ll be fine.”

.

.

.

The semester is well underway when you get the email, midterms that you haven’t so much as glanced at closely approaching and about a dozen other things to do that threaten to break you into hives when you linger on it for too long. A Mr Bruce Wayne confirms that you’re fit for the job, and he looks forward to meeting you. You stare at the cracked screen of your phone until the letters begin to blur into one another, feeling the rising lump in your throat. A dinner party goes on around you, all friends of friends who you’ve never exchanged more than a few words with. They don’t miss you when you slink away to the bathroom to cry, relief pulling the stopper of your emotions free.

Not wasting any time, the car comes for you early in the next morning and your friend sees you off, massively hungover and raising a hand as you pile the meagre collection of your belongings into the trunk. You are grateful to be rid of the townhouse, and in truth you think they are glad to be rid of you – a month and then some of their poor, Poor, border taking up space on their couch. It’s an unkind thought, fueled by the bitter humiliation of your failure – they’d not complained once, unthinkingly, unhesitatingly opening their door to you when the job you’d been relying on to (barely) make ends meet had let you go and your roommate had quit on you not a week later. 

The stress of it all lulls you into sleep as the car pulls away from the city, cement grey turning to green and rolling farmland. You’re too drowsy to appreciate any of it, and you’re out before you even leave the state. 

You wake from your dreamless sleep, startling at the sound of screeching metal. A wrought iron gate pulls open slowly, disused hinges whining loudly. It feels as though an eternity passes before the car is able to pass through, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end when you cross the threshold, eyes drinking in the secluded land around you. Gravel crunches under the tires as you drive down a private road, lined on both sides by looming oak trees. Through the gaps, you catch a glimpse of the wide stretch of land that makes up the Wayne estate.

The chill of the morning has travelled with you, it seems. A thin cloak of mist hangs in the air, painting all it touches in wide strokes of silvery grey. Through bleary eyes, you take it all in. The car turns a corner and you duck your head to peer through the windshield, a large manse coming into view suddenly, only growing bigger the closer you get. 

It looms over you when you come to a stop, blotting out the already pale autumn sunlight. Here, everything is tinged in a light blue film, forever suspended in twilight despite the early afternoon hour – the sun isn’t due to set for another few hours but you half expect the moon to be hanging in the sky when you step out of the car.

Sleep softened and weary from the journey, you stretch your limbs, trying to regain some of the feeling after sitting for so long. Your legs feel static-y and you’re conscious as the front door opens and the face of your employer comes into view, of the wrinkles in your clothing. Discreetly, you smooth a hand over the hem of your shirt, but it only folds back after your palm passes over it.

“Mr Wayne,” you greet when the man comes to a stop in front of you. 

It’s difficult to mask your surprise. For all that you’d spent the better part of the last few weeks emailing him, you hadn’t expected someone so...old. He looks a great deal older than a man nearing his fifties, raven hair streaked with thick locks of silver and exhaustion lining an aged face. You feel a pang of sympathy.

“Hello. I hope the journey up wasn’t too bad?” He turns his attention to the driver, who has begun to lift your things out of the car, eyes creasing kindly at the corners and an awkward smile lifting his mouth. “You can just take those on inside, thank you.”

“I can’t complain,” you tell him easily. I wasn’t awake enough to. “You’ve got a beautiful home.”

“Ah, thank you,” he mutters, glancing back over his shoulder at the house. Upstairs, a window is open, and the curtain flutters through, white fabric rippling in the air. “Come on inside, we’ve got a lot to get through before I have to leave.”

You pause at the doorway. “You’re leaving tonight?”

He hums. “Unavoidable, I’m afraid. You’ll have to forgive me.” He offers no further explanation and you’re too tired to press.

He runs you through the basics – emergency contacts, the local police department’s number – as he takes you through a number of rooms on the lower floor. In the living room, as he’s telling you about the fair distance to the town, your attention snags on the portrait hanging over the mantle.

It’s a large thing, set in a gilded frame with a small plaque below it. It dates to a little over a decade ago, and you look up to the subjects of the painting. Of the two faces, you recognise only one and it takes a few seconds to register. Bruce, much, much younger, stands for the portrait with an easy smile curving his mouth. The only wrinkles to be found are those that frame his eyes. He’s handsome, you think, stunned, with an old movie-star kind of charm, blue-black hair and pearly grin. It’s a stark difference from the man that stands next to you now, lacking all the heaviness that clouds over him now.

There’s a little boy in the painting, too. You draw closer, curious. Bright blue eyes, almost blazing, stare back at you, a soft, sweet face that offers a toothy smile.

You’re ushered into the next room before you can get a closer look, but the date lingers with you. What could have happened in such a short amount of time, you think, to cause such a change? Ten years had passed, yes, but the age in your employer’s face spoke of a greater, age old haunting.

You are finally led, after a labyrinthine tour through the manor and its various rooms, to the bedroom of your charge. 

Something, you aren’t quite sure what, tips you off before you even open the door. It might be the sudden tense set to Bruce’s shoulders, hiking up nearly imperceptibly as he reaches for the doorknob, or the tremble in his voice he disguises with a cough. 

“Jason,” he murmurs, “is eager to meet you.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him, too,” you say slowly, and he steps through the threshold.

The room, at a glance, looks like it would belong to a beloved child. You smile at the massive bookcase that spans nearly an entire wall, the toys neatly arranged in their chest. A pair of matching hand prints are stamped into the white trim of the windowsill, matching the paint of the wall, one much smaller than the other.

The only problem, you realise when Bruce crosses the room, is that the room is devoid of an inhabitant. 

He turns and you freeze when you take in the mass in his arms.

“Jaylad, come say hello.”

Pale, porcelain and unmoving, a doll stares back at you from its perch in your employer’s arms. Its likeness is a mimicry of the boy in the painting, a manufactured blush painting its cheeks in soft rose, dull blue eyes lacking the vibrancy of the portrait. It unnerves you, staring at it, and you look back and forth between Bruce and the thing but the former remains steady, expectant.

You raise a trembling hand, fingers clasping one small hand in greeting – it’s barely bigger than a pre-schooler, and even smaller in your arms when he deposits in your arms. 

(It takes every ounce of your strength not to flinch at the press of cool ceramic against your skin.)

Whether this is a sick joke or some awful scheme, your situation takes time to reveal itself. Bruce addresses the thing as though it were flesh and blood and you follow, uncertain and stilted. Rising unease makes it difficult to look at the thing properly, and you trail after Bruce back downstairs cradling it stiffly. 

It begins to piece itself together easily enough when on your way out of Jason’s bedroom, you catch sight of various photographs littering the surface of the walls and end tables, Bruce and a very real boy with bright blue eyes. It’s easy then, to understand what has happened, and what is being asked of you. Your discomfort softens, if only slightly, making way for sympathy. 

You know loss. Death is no stranger to you. The grief of losing a child – it feels cruel to fault your employer for how he’d chosen to cope. Soft-hearted, your chest aches when you catch the lingering of his gaze on the photographs as you pass them in the hall. So dearly loved, it’s no wonder the death of his son had driven him to...this. 

Still, you wonder whether this is right, to take money from him like this. It feels as though you’ve taken advantage of this man, accepting to live in his house and eat his food in return for services that wouldn’t come to be.

But the emptiness of your wallet stings like a phantom lash, the desperation of your situation weighs on you and you close your mouth. 

Bruce takes your leave almost immediately after your tour concludes. You stand on the front steps with the doll in your arms, a puppet held like a toddler on your hip, and watch him pile into a sleek black car.

“If you need anything,” he says, “they’ll take care of you in town.”

Something in your consciousness snags on the tightness in his voice, something that’s just out of reach, a note you can’t quite make out. His eyes flicker down to the mass in your arms and you follow his gaze. There is nothing you find, the black of the doll’s sweater unruffled, the manufactured flush of his rosy cheeks still cool to the touch – still porcelain. It has not suddenly gained the weight and warmth of a real child.

“Jason’s a good boy. He won’t give you too much trouble,” Bruce murmurs. 

When you look up, you catch the comet tail of a funny look, winking out of existence before you can see it properly. It triggers a crawling sensation on the back of your neck that you try to tamp down. Grief is all it is. You chalk it up to grief.

He takes your leave, then, piling into his car with a brief goodbye to the doll. A cloud of dust kicks up behind him and by the time it settles, the car has vanished.

The doll remains tucked in its bed in the hours that follows your employer’s departure, and once or twice you’ll peer into the room, tugged by an invisible string towards the empty bedroom to make sure you haven’t dreamt it all. But every time you open the door, there it lies, porcelain and so very still. 

You take the rest of the evening to explore the house – properly this time, lingering in the various rooms of this huge home. Part of you wonders how you’ll manage to keep the place tidy. You’re no neat freak, but it seems a herculean task for one person to manage the entire household. Dust amasses easily, and you eye the high ceilings of each floor critically – how on earth are you meant to get up there?

You file it away as a worry for later, drifting in and out of rooms. An office, untouched, down the hall from your room with a sturdy, mahogany desk and large window which offers you a view of the estate. Guest rooms on guest rooms, white tarp covered furniture and slightly stale air. You find the library after a few turns, drawing closer to a table stacked with books. 

They’re well loved, each with a child’s scrawling handwriting in the front cover. Property of Jason Peter Todd. 

It sends a pang through you and you pick up the books, flipping through them absentmindedly. It’s fairly advanced for a younger child, you think. One of them piques your interest and when you leave the room a little while later, it’s with the hardcover in your hands.

Your first night in the manse is restless. The house is old. Every so often, the bones of the place snap and crack, shuddering under a great weight. You curl further into the heavy blankets of your bed, willing your burning eyes to close but the nap on the way up has left you unable to sleep. You let out a frustrated sigh, a hand smacking against the sheets before you push yourself up to sit against the headboard and switch on the bedside lamp. From where you sit, the mirror in the corner of the room shines your reflection back at you, a soft orange diffusing through the room. 

Down the hall, another snap of the foundations. You shiver, and reach for the book, opening the cover to the name scribbled inside. The clock on your phone reads a bright 2:43 and you flip the page.

To Mrs. Saville, England. St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—. You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings. I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assure my dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success of my undertaking...

Dawn comes in slow breaths, the world swallowed in a cool, blue mist as the sky begins to lighten. You have long since succumbed to your fatigue, the pages of your borrowed book splayed open against your sheets and eyes closed to the world. The shadows lengthen on the floor, the house echoes, groans, and sunlight slips in through the gaps in your curtains. 

Still, you sleep.

.

.

.

The schedule that Bruce leaves you with is left on the table in Jason’s room, a sheaf of papers detailing his day at length – when he is to take his breakfast, lunch and dinner, when you are to sit down with him for his lessons. 

There are more pressing things that hold your attention – namely, the matter of your coursework. 

When you wake the following day, it is a little after noon and you curse when you realise you’ve slept half the day away. The list of things to do hasn’t grown any shorter in your search for a job. In fact, when you sit down at the desk in the office with your laptop and connect to the internet – poor, laggy – it only seems to have grown exponentially. 

You spend most of the day holed up there, staring at the screen of your laptop as you try to catch up, typing out notes upon notes until your eyes burn and the emptiness of your stomach is too hard to ignore. In the kitchen, you assemble a plate of what you can find. Cold cuts of meat, cheese in the fridge that seems edible, bread slathered in butter, a few slices of fruit.

It isn’t a proper meal, but it tides you over until dinner, when you wander out of the study to root through the butler’s pantry and put together a simple bowl of pasta. 

You eat alone in the kitchen, sitting at the island and staring at the grooves in the counter-top. The silence presses in on all sides of you and not even scrolling through social media, of which a limited number of posts actually deign to load, distracts you from the stillness of it all. For some reason the tinny sound of your music, filtering through your wired headphones, isn’t enough either. 

Dinner is a short affair, before you return to your work. 

It’s a gradual thing, the building anxiety in your gut. The loneliness and late hour are no friends of yours and the tottering pile of coursework threatens to topple over, crushing you beneath a mountain of assigned readings and lectures. The world had not waited for you to get your shit together, and midterms had crept up on you before you could blink.

It isn’t the time for panic. You stave it off when the anxiety simmering in your cells threatens to boil over, willing your tears away. The third cup of coffee at your desk side has grown cold, and the espresso tastes bitter when you bring the mug to your mouth, clinging to your tongue like film. 

You get back to bed well into the evening, too exhausted to shower the day off. It’s all you can do to let out a few bitter tears before unconsciousness claims you, a distant throbbing in your head that you ignore in favour of sleep.

how is it out there? haven’t heard from you since you left, just checking in you get there okay? let me know

The texts on your phone are responded to in a perfunctory manner – yes, everything’s fine. talk 2 u soon. very busy !! – before you shove it into a drawer and return to your work.

You think the isolation must be getting to you when things begin to go missing.

It’s easy to grow lonely out here, you realise on the third day when you pick up your phone to message a friend and the connection is so bad your texts barely go through. A rare break from your work, you curl up in the window seat of your bedroom and thumb through the photos on your camera roll. Faces you haven’t seen, fond memories of nights out and shared experiences – your old life seems farther away from you than ever, and part of you is a little bitter that it’s only the case for you. 

out for G’s bday!!! we miss u text u when im home?

Accompanying those texts are photos – they take an age to load, of course, but when they finally do, your eyes burn with jealousy at the wide, drunken grins, carefree and happy. 

It seems especially cruel to you that fate would deal you such a poor hand in comparison to those around you. The girls you love – whose circle you’d once been part of, young, privileged enough to be reckless – get to reel through their lives without a care. Here you were, miles away from anyone else, a grand total of fifty dollars to your name and with only a fucking doll for company. 

Envious, self loathing and miserable, you don’t reply to the messages.

You try to reason that you’ll get to it later, that you have work to do, that the house only seems to grow wider and lonelier around you. 

Work. 

You fling your phone to the side, pressing your hands to your face and letting out a heavy breath. It clatters against the floor with a dull thud and you can already imagine the newest addition to your screen’s collection of hairline fractures. 

You file it away – just another thing you don’t have time for.

Back in the study, you sit down at the desk, only to stop short. Where your pen and notebook had been, outlining your midterm paper, the ballpoint is nowhere to be seen. You peer over the edge of the desk, ducking your head underneath, but there’s no sight of it. You’re certain you’d left it just there, atop the paper. 

It’s innocuous enough that you forget about it, coming up with a replacement when you rifle through the drawer of the desk. The thought leaves your mind when you return to your work, new, blue ink crossing out black to scribble notes in the margins. It’s not a loss you mourn – or notice – much. 

Your bracelet, however, preceded by the vanishing of your clothes, is. 

A pair of jeans, your underwear and a shirt had been folded on the counter only twenty minutes ago when you’d entered the bathroom to take a shower. Now, clad in only your towel, you stare at an empty spot and feel something like fear prickle over your skin. 

Blood rushes in your ears the longer you remain in place – for what, you have no idea. Perhaps willing your things to return in between blinks, assure you that it had only been a trick of the light, or that the caffeine and stress had gotten to you.

No such luck. Your belongings do not reappear and the longer you remain in the bathroom, the more you feel like a sitting duck, like soft-bellied prey waiting to be caught. 

You venture out of the bathroom timidly, clutching the front of your towel. The floor is cold under your bare feet and you suck in a breath, trying to remain quiet. The house is quieter than usual, it feels like, when you peer carefully out into the hall. There is no sign of any disturbance, no sound from the lower levels or any of the surrounding rooms. 

The closed door of your bedroom is much more ominous than it ought to be. You stare at it for a long time, heart in your throat, before you reach for the doorknob with shaky hands.

A soft, scared noise leaves your throat before you can reel it in. Your room has been nothing short of ransacked, clothes and other belongings strewn about your bed and the floor. There isn’t an inch of it that hasn’t been left unturned, drawers pulled out, trunk at the foot of your bed sprung open, the fucking covers pulled back. You step further into the room, horror only growing as you spin slowly, taking it in. 

Somewhere down the hall, something clatters and your blood turns to ice in your veins. You whirl back to the open door and lunge forward to slam it shut, breath rattling in your chest as you fumble with the locks on it, palms sweaty and fingers trembling so badly you fear it’ll sweep open on you before you can latch it. Water drips into the carpet at your feet when you finally lock the door and back away, trembling lips pulling downwards. 

Fear blurs your vision in saltwater, slipping down your cheeks when the sound of laughter filters through the walls, a soft, child-like, playful sound that only drives you further backwards, a scream spilling from your lips when you bump into the post of your bed, the wood pressing against your back unexpectedly and startling you. 

“Please...” You don’t know what you’re pleading for, or who to. Tears stream down your damp face, and your breath hitches, stuttering over a sob when the shadows in the hall shift, the gap underneath the door showing movement right outside your door. 

And then – so sweetly, so softly you wonder if you’ve heard it wrong – your name.

You begin to cry in earnest then, taking in big, shuddering breaths that wrack through your body. Crouching, you press your hands to your face, sobbing louder when the voice continues – 

“Please come out, I promise I’ll be good.”

Your scream catches in your throat, turning into a spluttering cough when the door knob rattles slightly before stilling. You watch through teary eyes, snivelling, as the shadows move once more and then, as if it had never happened, the house falls into silence once more.

It takes a while for you to move from your spot on the floor, to relax your frozen muscles and pull yourself up, clinging to the banister of your bed to steady yourself. Snot and salt smeared across your face, you keep your eyes on the thin gap beneath the door, the small, solid mass in the centre of it.

You must be going crazy. The isolation must be getting to you. It’s the only reasonable explanation you can procure when you open the door and find your clothes in a clumsily folded pile, the metal of your bracelet glinting amongst the folds of fabric. Holding a hand to your head, you slump against the door frame, feeling the energy leave your body. 

“Fuck.”

It takes you a long time to clean up your room, pulling on your clothes with an eye kept on the door and returning your things to their places. Nothing is broken, but you don’t know whether you should be thankful for it. The house continues to breathe as it had before, the structure settling back into place after letting whatever had been outside your door loose. You don’t leave your room for the rest of the night.

Daylight returns some of your courage to you. You venture outside, clutching the end of a pair of scissors as a safeguard. You don’t know how much damage they’re actually capable of, meant for cutting through first aid dressings and fabric, the blade barely an inch long – but it feels comforting that you aren’t empty handed.

In his bedroom, where you had last left the Doll, you do not find it. Even the sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains isn’t enough to fully shield you from your unease. You look all over the room, pushing aside the curtains, peering under the bed, but it isn’t there. 

The afternoon you had planned to spend studying is wasted away on a hunt for the thing. You check each of the surrounding rooms, first, before moving to the upper floors. In each, all that greets you is a thick layer of dust, white tarp and the smell of long undisturbed air. It grips you, the intense need to locate the doll. You cannot place anything beyond this feeling, only that you must find it.

In a downstairs office – what you assume serves as Mr Wayne’s study – you find, curiously, a few papers scattered over the edge of his desk. At first you are too preoccupied to pay it any mind, instinctively crouching to pick them up and arrange it. Your mind remains fixated on the task at hand. 

Chance, or perhaps the machinations of fate, pulls your sight to the bright, bold print on the paper in your hand and you process the text belatedly, stilling on the floor.

GOTHAM GAZETTE Wayne Heir Found: Body Recovered From Tragic Blast  Alexander Knox The body of Jason Todd, aged 10, was discovered yesterday after a blast in central Gotham that killed at least 200. The Gotham City Police Department is currently reporting this as a “tragic accident.”  Jason Todd is survived by his father, Bruce Wayne, who currently holds the position of CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and older brother Richard Grayson. He is remembered by his classmates and teachers as a “bright soul, with boundless potential, who was taken too soon.” The GCPD are working together with the Gotham City Fire Department in responding to this incident. As of this morning, Rescue and Recovery teams have made progress through 75% of the fallout zone and are continuing to do so.  Civilians are reminded to keep clear of the area until recovery efforts have been finalised. In remembrance of Jason’s life, the family asks that any charitable donations be made to the Catherine Todd Recovery Centre.

The photos of the fallout that accompany the article make your throat tighten, staring at the grey of a destroyed city block, smoking rubble and dark stains seeping from beneath cracked cement. The faded edges of the paper, the deep creases where it had been folded and unfolded – your heart twists painfully in your chest at the thought that Bruce had kept this reminder in here, all these years. 

It lingers with you long after you exit the room, searching for the doll with a slightly muddled mind. You’d known, of course, that his son had died – but you think of the violence of it all, how abruptly he’d been ripped from him. It settles in your chest uncomfortably, making a home for itself in the space beneath your sternum and pressing down on your oesophagus as you move through the house.

When you finally chance upon the doll – sat upright in plain sight in the downstairs sitting room – you pause a few feet away. The fear of last night’s incident clings to you, but with that is something else, the makings of a theory you haven’t quite gotten to, another, foreign feeling that outweighs your fear, tempers it into something malleable. You scrutinise the porcelain face, drawing closer slowly until you come to a stop in front of the armchair you’d been lounging in only yesterday.

Crouching, you stare into dull glass eyes. They remain lifeless, forever affixed on nothingness, unmoving. You pass a hand over it.

“Was it..” you hesitate, feeling acutely aware that you’re talking to an inanimate object, and half expecting an answer. You whisper, “Was it you, last night?”

There is no answer. Of course there isn’t. Still, you stare a moment longer, before your gaze slides over to the leaf of paper that’s tucked beneath it’s leg – the schedule of rules you’re meant to abide by in Bruce’s absence.

You look back up to the doll. 

.

.

.

You’ve bowed to the pressure of your isolation and gone mad, you think absently as you sink a knife into the flesh of an apple. Clumsily cut, you arrange the slices onto a plate in the kitchen and slide it onto the small table where you’ve sat the doll. You lean forward until you’re level with it, and narrow your eyes.

“Is it you?” you ask again. Silence hangs in the air of the kitchen and you begin to feel a little hopeless, clinging to this half-formed idea. 

You stand and turn, taking a few steps forward into the butler’s pantry but the sound of footsteps makes you whirl around, heart in your throat. The doll remains in place, but – the plate is empty. You draw in a shaky breath, moving closer. 

“What the fuck. What the fuck.” Your hands tremble as you peer around the kitchen, eyeing the closed door. It’s implausible that anyone might have moved in such a short space of time without your noticing – you’re the only one in the room. 

You try once more, this time without turning around, keeping your gaze fixed on the doll as you slide a plate of toast in front of him. It’s covered in a thin smear of hazelnut spread, the chocolate melting over the warm bread.

The doll does not move. 

Your brows draw together, confused. A few beats. The toast is cooling, and a silly, superficial part of you worries that it won’t taste any good if this goes on any longer.

“Are you shy...?” you wonder out loud. The doll does not answer you but you turn away slowly anyway, fixing your eyes on the back door.

A second passes, and then another. You wait. 

You feel it then, a few moments later, rather than hear it. It’s difficult to place, the manner in which the very atmosphere in the kitchen shifts, to let you know you are no longer the only one in here. There is the rustle of something moving, the bread, you think, and then it recedes entirely without a sound. 

You wait a few beats before you turn, and your breath punches out of you in a rush when you note the once again empty plate. Disbelieving, you laugh.

“Holy shit.” Rounding the table, you pick up the doll, handling its weight much more carefully as you hold it out in front of you. “It was you, then, last night. You know, if you wanted my attention, you’ve got a funny way of showing it, kid. I think I lost ten years of my life with that little stunt.”

The threat seems to abate, after that, when you consider it. The spirit of a lonely child tugs at your poor heartstrings, and when you open your bedroom door after your evening shower to find a clumsily arranged sandwich, it only softens you further. You go to check on the doll – on Jason – and find him sat in bed, his schedule next to him once again. 

“So this is what you want, hm?” you mutter under your breath, scanning the paper. Your lips tug downwards into a pout, and you reach out to fix his hair. “Poor thing. You must be bored out here, with no one else to play with.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you find you already know the answer.

Rules 1. No Guests 2. Never Leave Jason Alone 3. Save Meals in Freezer 4. Never Cover Jason’s Face 5. Read a Bedtime Story 6. Play Music Loud 7. Clean the Traps 8. Jason is Never to Leave 9. Kiss Goodnight

You bring him almost everywhere with you after that. 

There’s a shift in your mind after your discovery, a distinction that shifts the doll into Jason. You’re able to rest a little easier now, knowing what had been behind the disturbances, and that it wasn’t something you had to fear. He sits comfortably in a chair next to you in the study, keeping you company as you return to your studies, worries that you’d been dealing with something more nefarious comfortably assuaged. 

You learn to communicate with him, in your own shared way. The music you play as you study is no longer isolated to your headphones, but filters through the speakers of your laptop as you work. When you begin making your own offhand remarks to him, you don’t know, but as the hours pass it feels less like you’re unaccompanied and more like you’re studying with a friend. Every so often, there is a sign – a tap, or the roll of something on the floor outside the study – that signals you to take a break, pushing away from the desk to take a turn about the room with Jason in your arms. 

Once, during a longer break, you bring him along on a walk outside. He doesn’t seem to like it very much – hiding your notebook until you figure it out. And you suppose spirits don’t require much exercise, so you let it be, content to take quick trips to the kitchen for snacks. You keep it for after the day is over, right before the sun sets, stretching your legs as you walk around the gardens before dinner.

Before you’ve realised, you’ve built a camaraderie with Jason. It’s easy for you to confide in him, slumping back in your desk chair with your hands pressed to your face. Tonight, the amount of coursework seems, not for the first time, never-ending. Tears streak through your fingers as you quietly sob.

“I’m so tired,” you cry, and a little hiccup stutters out of you. “It’s so...it’s just unfair. None of this would’ve happened if I’d – if I wasn’t so busy trying to look for a place.”

You work yourself up, tears smearing against the deep hollows beneath your eyes – despite how comfortable your bed is, lately you’ve still been working late into the night, long after you put Jason to sleep with a kiss to his brow. Though the night is young enough that you won’t have to tuck Jason in for a while, it still presses on you. There is too much to do, and not nearly enough time. 

“It’s not fair,” you mumble again, weakly. You slide a look over to Jason through swollen eyes, pressing your cheek against your knees. “Everyone else gets to – they get to not care about money and they get to enjoy their lives. It’s just...not fair.”

You close your eyes, hiding your face in the fabric of your leggings. Your head feels congested, after crying so much, heavy, and stuffed with wool. A few minutes later, as you’re working up the will to return to your work, you hear a thud. 

When you look up you find an apple on the corner of the desk, bright red and freshly washed, if the few drops of water that cling to it are anything to go by. The sight makes you burst into fresh tears again, a kindness that feels too tender for your poor, bruised heart. You reach for the fruit, feeling the juice run down your wrist when you sink your teeth into its flesh. Mumbling a thank you, you feel, for the first time since your arrival, your hopelessness begins to flicker out.

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A crash wakes you in the middle of the night, startling you from your sleep with a jolt. At first, you think it might be Jason. You groan quietly, rolling over into the pillow with a grumble of his name before you sit up and shove the covers off. It’s particularly freezing tonight and you reach for a robe as you shuffle over to your bedroom door only to stop short when, through the walls, floating up from the lower floors, you hear voices.

Your blood turns to ice in your veins and you register the shattering of something downstairs. In the moments that follow, you barely think, flying down the hall to where Jason’s bedroom is and clutching him close to your chest. All the while, the racket downstairs grows louder, raucous bickering and jeering laughter nipping at your heels as you push into a spare room and slip into the depths of a wardrobe. 

You kick yourself when you realise you haven’t brought your phone, the landline in Jason’s room being too far out of reach now to dial the local police. You can only press yourself further into the wardrobe, cradling Jason with a hand on the back of his head like you might your own child – like he shouldn’t have to bear witness to the violence enacted on his home. Tears – how many have you spent since your arrival, it must be enough to fill an ocean – slip onto your collar and you hide in a case that smells of mothballs, the fur of old coats brushing against your arms and face. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you whisper, feeling half crazed as you comfort Jason. “We’re going to be okay.”

It’s the longest night of your life, waiting for them to leave. Even without you leaving a crack in the wardrobe door, the noise from downstairs would have reached you. It’s jumbled in your fear-addled mind, but you hear the shatter of glass and yelling – they break out into arguments amongst themselves. You can’t make out the words, but it carries the threat of further violence – the kind that goes beyond stolen valuables and broken glassware. 

And then, abruptly, you think you hear a whisper of something, before it all falls still.

The darkness in the wardrobe is stifling but you remain there, clutching Jason with your head bowed until you hear a shout announcing the presence of the police. 

It’s only when the Commissioner announces himself, climbing to the second floor of the manor and stepping into the room, that you crawl out from the wardrobe. You’re shaking when he steps forward to meet you, arms coming around you to help you stand.

You’re coaxed into a blanket and ushered into a chair as they question you – the tiles of the kitchen floor are freezing under your bare feet and you wince when you catch the looks his deputies share amongst themselves. You must look like a mess, tear tracks drying on your face and cradling a doll in your arms. 

There’s a look in the Commissioner’s eyes, as he questions you, that makes the hair on the back of your neck raise – you forget about it quickly enough when he presses further, but later you’ll recall it. There’s a lack of surprise in his gaze, as though he hadn’t expected any less. You figure he’s hardened by his profession. Still, it lingers in the recesses of your mind.

They clean it up quick enough, and they leave right as the sun begins to creep over the horizon. You see them off, standing on the front steps with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders and Jason in your arms. When the last of the car headlights fade out of sight, you turn back inside.

You venture into the living room, staring at where the sunlight catches on a stray shard of glass, scuffs on the floor where heavy boots had tracked mud in on the hardwood. The lingering smell of peroxide – all that it suggests had happened here – makes you let out a shaky breath, clutching Jason closer.

You know it then, what – who had kept you safe. And if there were any lingering doubts about him, they dissolve under your tongue. The solid weight of the mass in your arms is an anchor, grounding you, reminding you. Safe. You’re unharmed, you’re okay. The intrusion is gone, it’s just the both of you now. You turn your head, pressing your mouth to his hairline. It’s cold beneath your lips as you whisper, a tear carving a path down your cheek. 

“Thank you, Jason.” 

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.

.

After the intrusion things, mercifully, begin to settle. You’re glad for it, sure you’ve fulfilled your share of excitement for the next decade. You return to your and Jason’s routine, rebuilding your shattered safe space with every album you introduce him to and each portion of coursework you complete. Brick by brick, you patch the rift. 

The evening you finally feel as though you’ve begun to make headway, you turn to him, overjoyed, patting his hand excitedly.

“I think we deserve a bit of celebration, don’t we, Jason?”

You make dinner for the both of you, a simple but favourite pasta dish of yours that you’re grateful to have made extra of when Jason clears his plate in the time it takes you to carry your own plate into the dining room where you’d set him down. You pout at him sympathetically, running a hand over his head.

“If you’re still hungry,” you murmur, taking a seat and spearing a pasta shell on your fork, “there’s more in the pan, sweetheart.”

In the next room, a clatter almost immediately and it draws a smile on your face. You treat yourself to a glass of something sweet, giggling when the bubbles flit up your nose and pop. The taste lingers on your tongue when, after dinner, you scoop him up into your arms and travel into the living room. A record is placed onto the old gramophone and you spin on your feet, socked feet sinking into the plush carpet as you dance around the room. You spin, and spin, and spin until you land on the couch, laughing breathlessly. On the couch, Jason watches until you pick him up once more and dance with him in your arms. You’re careful with him, conscious of tripping in your state and dropping him. You think he might enjoy it, when you hear the whisper of laughter alongside your own.

When you tuck him into bed that night, it’s with a giddy smile as you kiss his forehead. You go to bed feeling floaty, lighter than you’ve felt in an age. There’s a buzz in your veins that isn’t entirely the drink. You’re happy. It isn’t the same as the life you’d wanted back so fervently, but you’re hopeful. It feels, for the first time, like things might work out. You cling to this victory with a vice grip, unwilling to be parted from it.

Your head hits the pillow and you sleep easily, but wake in the middle of the night, slipping out of hazy dreams into consciousness like slipping upstream. You’re distinctly aware of the wetness pooling between your legs, and the lingering warmth of the drinks.

It’s been a long time. The stress of everything – moving, money, adjusting to the manor – has left you unable to focus on anything else. Tonight, though, a reprieve from it all, a break in the clouds offers you a spike in your energy, a longing that heats the blood in your veins and makes your stomach twist. For the first time in a long time, you indulge, fingers creeping beneath the waistband of your pants.

.

.

.

He watches you touch yourself, the night spent tending to what is a seemingly insatiable appetite. Hardening in his trousers, he stands behind the panelling and a large hand curls into a fist by his side, nails digging into the meat of his palm so hard he draws blood. You work yourself up, differently from the way you had when he’d revealed himself. It’s gentler, fingers skimming over your skin beneath the fabric of your shirt. In the dark his gaze sharpens on the soft plane of your stomach, your body shifting under every touch, pliant and responsive. 

You come, and it isn’t enough. He tastes copper, sees stars when you kick the covers off and his keen eyes make out the folds of your cunt, sodden and wanting. Your body is covered in a sheen of sweat when you finally, finally, drift off to sleep. Hungry little thing, his girl. You’ll want for nothing, he thinks, remembering the debauched way you’d put your fingers to your mouth. He recalls the slick sounds, the little whines, drawn out and practically demanding he come forth to please you. With no one around for miles to hear you, unknowingly, you feed him with your gasps. 

He longs for it, imagines putting his mouth to you. How you’d keen, how you’d thrash under his hold like you had tonight, legs kicking out under the full force of your pleasure. But he’d hold you down, he thinks, breathing hard, draw even more wretched sounds from that mouth – pretty, soft mouth that always curled around his name so sweetly – than the ones you’d spilled out tonight. Prettier, than the sobs of the last few weeks, that’d had him gritting his teeth. He likes you drunk and dizzy on pleasure like this, likes the breathless, open mouthed smile that pushes the apples of your cheeks upwards. This, he thinks, is all you should know, tears born of desire. Not jittery hands, or envy.

Frail, pretty thing. You need to be taken care of. You wouldn’t know worry ever again, he would take care of you, would take care of everything. You’ll want for nothing.

His chest heaves at the thought, muscles tensing as if readying to crash through the wood at a moment’s notice. 

No, he thinks, taking a shuddering breath. He can almost taste you from here but – not yet. 

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You wake up sticky, despite the chill in the air. Late autumn carries with it hints of the oncoming winter – you think it’s going to be a bad one, if your fingertips are numb already. It takes a bit of maneuvering to untangle yourself from the web of sheets and when you finally stand, there’s a distant ache in your head, a dryness in your throat that makes you grimace. 

You drag yourself into the shower, scrubbing off the filth of last night’s activities and letting the warm water run over your muscles. The steam fills the air of the bathroom, thick enough to trap the warmth when you step out and reach for your towel. 

It confuses you, though, once you’ve dried off and moisturised, that when you turn to reach for your clothes, they aren’t there. A sense of déjà vu settles over you. Significantly more awake, you wrap the towel around you once more and make the trek back to your room, a little peeved.

“Jason,” you call out as you pad down the hall, trying to keep the bite in your tone from being too harsh. “This isn’t funny, it’s cold. I’m not very impressed right now.”

Not even a laugh, but you’re too huffy to notice, picking up your clothes from where he’d relocated them to the top of your dresser and shutting your door firmly. 

When you go to pick him up before breakfast – closer to lunch, now, really – you frown at him. 

“Not cool, kid,” you tell him. “What if I got sick? Who’d make you lunch, then, hm? You can’t survive on peanut butter sandwiches alone.”

It feels a little as though you’ve regressed over the next week. More and more things go missing, only to turn up in the oddest places. You think he might be a little more playful, finally comfortable around you, but it’s hard to find gratification in that when your underwear joins the catalogue of missing things, turning up when you take your laundry out to hang even though you know you hadn’t put them in the washing. So maybe there’s a bit of wilful ignorance there. You don’t know how to address this, the pressing feeling of eyes on you at every moment now, an obvious presence that lingers around you more insistently, it feels, than before.

And you can’t place what’s brought this on, don’t know what’s to blame for this turn in his mood, toeing the line of malevolent, no longer innocently playful but shifting into something more intent, dull blue eyes seeming darker these days, more watchful. 

“What’s going on, huh?” you ask, when you put him to bed, brushing a hand over his hair. “How come you don’t wanna be good anymore? Is something up? I don’t know, kid, I’m not a mind reader.”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. Leaning forward, you brush your lips against his forehead. “Let’s have a better day tomorrow, okay? Goodnight, Jason.”

Midnight comes to you in slow winks that night, the pages of Jason’s book marked with a ribbon and placed carefully to the side with the half-formed, tired thought that you would talk to him about it tomorrow. Perhaps it would soften whatever had him agitated as of late. The lamp switches off, and you breathe out into the darkness, one last sigh before sleep claims you. 

You wake up to a pressing blackness. Not even the moonlight breaks through the clouds to offer you reprieve tonight, the very air sucked out of the room. Groggy, sleep still clinging to you like silken threads of a spider’s web around your eyes, you blink rapidly. The darkness settles around you and your vision adjusts.

The first thing you notice is the hulking silhouette at the foot of your bed and you freeze under the covers, breath punching out of your chest. 

Your first thought is to scream. Before your lips can even part, a rough palm is pressing over your mouth and tears prick your eyes. 

(What’s the point? Who is there to hear you scream so far out here?)

In the dim, your tearful eyes adjust further and your heart seizes in your chest when you make out the glint of white – a porcelain mask, a face that’s been your only companion these last few weeks. The cupid’s bow, rosy cheeks greyed in the dark. Down to the very last detail, it’s him.

The cause of all the haunting, the thief of your belongings, sentry of this manor. Not a spirit, but real, solid flesh and blood. He looms over you. There’s a solid weight that settles into the cradle of your hips, arms that cage you in, the smell of sawdust and something. Unbidden, your mind tugs back to you the missing lace, satin stolen by unseen hands – the very hands that press on your mouth and side, now, calloused, roughened. 

The whisper of your name hangs in the air between you, your resounding whimper muffled.

It’s faster than it ought to be, your compliance, going limp in his hold and ceasing your thrashing. You stare tearfully, heart in your throat, up at him. He lingers like this a moment longer before withdrawing, seemingly satisfied you won’t bolt. Slowly, you push up onto your elbows. The movement brings your face closer to his, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to flinch at the proximity. He seems pleased enough, however, head tilting, rather like a cat, tracking your movements carefully. 

It isn’t as though you’re going anywhere, his weight yet to lift from your legs. You reach out to the side, a shaking hand scrabbling for the flip of a switch. The sudden flood of orange light into the room, soft though it is, makes you flinch.

It’s the eyes that you’re drawn to first. Through the holes of the mask, you meet ultramarine eyes, leagues beyond that of the painting downstairs, which couldn’t hold a candle to the vibrant irises that stare back at you now. Your breath catches when he leans in a hair’s breadth closer and he pauses. 

Your voice fails you, when you part your lips to speak, frightened tears wetting your face. You clear your throat, and try once more.

“Jason?”

Dark lashes flutter, something pleased passing through his gaze, something like an unspoken affirmation. It floors you, the blood rushing from your head and leaving you dizzy all of a sudden. He swallows your field of vision, so impossibly big, broad and nothing about him carrying any of the delicateness your doll had. Dark curls fall over the edges of the mask, dark hair peeking beneath it, trailing down the sides of his jaw. 

You reach out, carefully, and he lets you press a hand to his chest – clad in a thin, dirtied henley. He gives under the slightest pressure, drawing back until he’s sitting on his haunches, your legs free. You let go, pushing yourself further up against the headboard of the bed and bringing your knees to your chest. He watches, silent, unmoving except for the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. Real, solid, flesh and blood.

“You’ve been alive this whole time?” The dust clings to your sticky cheeks and you swipe at them again. Your breaths are shaky as you come down from your fright. He nods, and you wince, the porcelain mask shining as it reflects the light of your lamp.

“Can you – will you take that off? Please?” He stills and you, foolish, softened by fear or trust, scoot forward a little, legs folding under you. Now it’s his turn to widen the distance between you. You let out a soft warble, lips trembling. “It’s scaring me.”

“...Scary?” His voice is hoarse from disuse, and your eyes drop to his sides, watching his fingers curl into fists. “Under...you won’t like it..”

Your breath catches on a sob and you shake your head. You’re still shaking, still scared. He draws a little closer, hands raising as if to reach for you, and you flinch. “Please, Jason.”

Time stretches so long you fear you’ll remain here forever, trembling, suffocating, before big hands reach up to his face. He’s shaking, too, you notice absently. His head bows when the mask is discarded to the side, lying atop your sheets face down. The shadows obscure him slightly, cloaking his face from you, only the dark thatches of hair that cover his jaw visible to you. 

You whisper his name.

His eyes flash when he lifts his head, blue flickering into a green glow so suddenly it feels like a trick of the light – gone in an instant. Scarred flesh, waxy, pink patches of skin and pale, jagged remnants of lacerations; he bares himself to you and your breath catches in your throat. 

There are remnants of a classical beauty in his face, beneath the scarring. It’s the kind that would’ve made you stop short on the street, that would’ve brought warmth to your face if you’d met his eyes across a subway car during rush hour. The violence wrought renders him no less handsome but lends a brutality to him, the oppressive aura that cloaks him impossible to ignore, laid bare across his face. Still, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that your attention snags on, a child-like wariness that reminds you of the headline you’d found in Bruce’s office that day.

Silly, soft-hearted girl. It makes your heart ache, and once the tears start, they refuse to stop. Your hand draws closer to cradle his face, hovering a hair’s breadth from his cheek before he makes the leap for you, leaning against your touch. His own comes up, fingers pressing beneath your eye.

“Crying..”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, sniffling, wiping your nose on your sleeve. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Crying for me?” His voice sounds odd, a tone you can’t quite read through your tears. You try to look away but he refuses to let you, clumsy fingers swiping beneath your eyes.

“You didn’t deserve that. That must’ve been so scary,” you sniffle, and look up at him. “Why were you...why’d you hide? Did – did your father know?” 

His eyes flash at the mention of Bruce, and you still at the anger that lines his face. 

“Bastard,” he mutters, a decade’s worth of pain packed into one word. It hints to a history you aren’t privy to, raw, jagged wounds still bleeding from an age old hurt. He stiffens and you slide your hand to his shoulder.

“Okay, don’t – we don’t have to talk about him,” you defer hastily, wary of the way his muscles ripple, the thrum of lightning barely contained beneath his skin. It reminds you of something else. “Was...It was you...that night, when they -”

Your breath stutters on the memory of the invasion, and his eyes darken. He crowds into your space more, ducking his head to meet your eyes. More green than blue now, he wills you to understand the severity of his promise.

“Keep you safe,” he says, and you barely notice the hand that curls possessively around your hip, your heart thrumming anxiously in its cavity at the threat of violence his words carry. And yet, you can’t deny it to yourself that it quiets a part of you, too, stills a restlessness that had lingered in your skin after that night. 

You don’t consider that night, why he had chosen to reveal himself to you – properly, in all his glory, stripped of parlour tricks and the facade – you’re too relieved that he doesn’t intend to hurt you to linger on it. He lets you guide him back to his room and draw the covers over him, the mask carefully carried in your hands and placed on the bedside table. He catches your hand when you go to leave and for a moment you fear he’ll demand something of you, blue eyes flashing cat’s eye green for the briefest of moments. He lets you go after a moment’s scrutiny, and you eke out a timid goodnight, returning to your bedroom in a daze. 

Perhaps you ought to have, though. Perhaps it might have suited you better to linger on the why, to consider what this meant, that there was something in motion, had been since your arrival. Exhaustion renders you pliant, however, and you slip into dreamless sleep the moment your head hits the pillow, the lingering smell of sawdust beneath your nose.

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.

.

Jason makes it easy on you. It’s a little eerie in a way, re-learning him and yet finding all the hints of your spirit companion in him. He doesn’t stray far from you, content to continue to sit at your side when you sit down for your classes. In the morning, when you go to check on him, he is already awake, and you usher him into the bathroom, unsure at all whether you even should follow the schedule but moving mechanically if only for something to do, to avoid floundering. He waits by the door as you brush your teeth, eyes fixed on you. 

You find yourself returning the stare, brows furrowing as you take in every inch of him. Dust and dirt clings to his skin. You wonder when the last time he’d bathed was. You tell him as much, receiving only a blank stare. Uncommunicative, even now. 

“You should take a bath,” you murmur, worrying the skin of your lip with your teeth. “I don’t want you to get sick, or something.”

He’s compliant enough, letting you steer him into the bathroom and turning the knobs of the tub. Water comes spraying out, and you startle a little when the pipes whine, but ultimately settle. Dipping a hand in, you test the temperature before looking over your shoulder. He stands by your side, and you tilt your head to the water.

“Will you check if this is okay?” He obeys, dropping his chin in a short nod after brushing his fingers in. You offer him a short smile, and move to stand.

“I’ll try to find some clothes, this is...” you hesitate, looking at the hem of his shirt. “You can’t wear this.”

But his arm blocks your path when you go to step around him, curling around your midsection to keep you in place. You look up, startled. You try to move but he doesn’t budge, looking down at you intently. 

“You’ll stay.” It isn’t a request, nor a command, but he delivers it firmly, a matter of fact statement – that you will remain here, with him. You balk, blood rushing to your face.

“I can’t!” you protest, stepping back if only to escape the barricade of his arm, your hands coming up to rest on your hips. “That’s not – Jason, it’s not-”

“You’ll stay,” he repeats, simply, rock-salt voice echoing slightly in the bathroom. Water drips into the steaming bath, and you’re at an impasse, abject indignation warming your veins.

In the end, you give in. You think there was no possible outcome where you did not acquiesce to his whims – you recall the destruction he’d wreaked on his father’s office the night you had foregone a kiss goodnight, frightening you back into his room to press your lips to his temple. You sit by the side of the tub, handing him a cloth and keeping your eyes trained firmly ahead of you as he scrubs himself down. Somehow, you end up washing his hair for him, soapy water providing a suitable enough cover that you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s the gentlest you’ve ever seen him, pleased and bath soft, skin flushed and curls wet against his forehead as you pour water over his crown. 

He only lets you go once the water begins to grow cool and you insist on finding clean clothes for him. It’s easier than you think, rifling through the drawers in the master bedroom and finding a pair of soft trousers and t-shirt that you figure will fit him. You keep your back turned when he emerges from the bath, waiting until he’s dressed to face him with warmth in your cheeks. The glimpse you’d caught as he’d risen from the water had made you squeak, hard lines and dark hair, wet skin glistening – all Man, real, breathing, human man. It’s a jarring contrast from the sexless porcelain of his counterpart. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of his broad chest and you promptly whirl around, guilt swarming in your stomach at your momentary lapse in senses.

(In his mind he thinks, don’t you know you’re all his, as he is yours? There is no inch of him that isn’t for your eyes.)

When you sit down for your classes later, you’re more conscious of his presence than ever, a warm arm diffusing soft heat at your elbow. He only shakes his head when you ask if he would rather do something else and you get the feeling later, when you take a bathroom break, that he would follow after you, had you not closed it between you. 

He sits close when you have lunch, knee knocking into yours beneath the table in the kitchen. You watch him eat, ravenous, and your wariness melts a little at the familiarity. This, you knew. This, you could handle. When he finishes his plate you push your own towards him in lieu of pointing to the pan but he surprises you – shaking his head and watching you carefully until he’s satisfied you’re fed. 

It’s sort of like losing a friend to gain a guard dog. He lingers by your side, catalogues your every movement and bosses you around where he sees fit. You don’t know how to feel about it, and don’t witness the full extent of it until, midway through your lunch, there’s a knock at the back door.

Reactive, he’s a wraith at your back, chair clattering and pressing you away. No guests. You recall the first rule in his schedule as you wrangle him, a hand tight on his chest to set him at ease. You figure it’s fear, in his own, muddled way. There had been a break in, after all, he wouldn’t take kindly to anyone else on the property – you were the only one meant to be here.

“It’s only the groceries,” you whisper, fingers circling around his wrist and pressing down against his pulse to draw his attention. Green eyes strike you down, near unseeing in his wrath and you startle. The seconds pass and you figure the longer this goes unhandled, the likelier Jason is to react for the worse. You take a deep breath, wrangling your own unease to step in front of him, blocking off his path to the door and squeezing his wrist once more.

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay,” you murmur, stroking the back of his hand comfortingly. “Just wait here for me, okay? It’s okay.”

He lingers in the room, though it seems only you’re aware of it as the delivery boy brings the bags in. You’re thankful he doesn’t loiter, unwilling to test Jason’s thin patience. The very shadows in the room seem to stretch the longer it takes and by the time the final bag is carried in and the receipt is left on the counter, you fear the kitchen floor will start to crack beneath your feet.

He’s on you the moment the door shuts, wrapping himself around you to run big hands over your sides, assessing you like he hadn’t kept you in his line of sight the entire exchange. You sigh, letting him tilt your chin, inspecting your face. The green in his eyes has completely swallowed the shades of blue, pupils dilated as he closes in on you.

“I’m fine,” you assure. He seems ill-convinced, but finally lets go. “Come on. You’re probably still hungry. Maybe that’s why you’re acting like this.”

He lets out a puff of breath in response and you let out a small laugh. 

You make the mistake that night, when you see him off to bed, of unthinkingly voicing out loud as you look around the room,

“Isn’t it -” you hesitate, feeling your words catch on something. You ought to listen to it, but he tilts his head inquisitively, and it coaxes it out of you. “Doesn’t it feel weird sleeping in here? It’s a kid’s room. I don’t think you even fit in that bed.”

His eyes gleam, and you don’t understand what for until he pushes up from the covers and stands. Your brows draw together, confused, but you have no time to question it, weight on your shoulders pushing you forward until you’re steered down the hall to – 

Your room.

You stare, wide eyed, as he pushes you; he’s clumsy, but gentle, fingers coaxing you under your covers before rounding the bed to slip under them on your other side. Your heart catches in your throat, alarmed.

“Jason – no, this isn’t what I meant, you-” He turns on his side and you fall silent. 

“Kiss goodnight,” he murmurs, a hand reaching out beneath the soft weight of your covers to tug you closer, warmth searing through your pants where it rests on your hip. You resist, pressing against his chest to create a modicum of distance between you, but it’s impossible against his strength. Again, your mind supplies you unhelpfully with attention to the heat that rolls off him, the proximity or lack thereof between you. 

“Are you – did the delivery upset you? Is this why-” You’re grasping for straws, searching for something to cling to, a reason that softens the weight of his gaze and all that lies behind it. You blind yourself to it, convince yourself the flash of his eyes is affirmation, let yourself believe it, breathing out a shaky, “Okay.”

“Kiss.” He repeats the word, and your chest presses against his. He’s a furnace, warmth trapped beneath the covers threatening to burn you alive. Your mouth is dry as you lean up, smoothing a hand against his curls to flatten them backwards, bare his temple to you. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper, into his hairline, lips brushing against the raised outline of a pale scar. 

Slowly, the sands in your hourglass begin to trickle to an end.

.

.

.

The kisses brush closer and closer these days. No longer do your lips meet the spot at his hairline, or his temple. The first time Jason brings a hand to your cheek and guides you lower, you’re too surprised to do anything, kissing the higher point of his cheekbone and pulling away hastily, face warm. It feels so incredibly inappropriate, letting him continue to blur the boundaries between you. He makes a noise of discontent the next night, when you return to his forehead, only settling back into your sheets when your mouth finds his cheek. The hand on the back of your neck is heavy, fingers brushing against the small hairs in feather light touches and sending shocks of something down your spine. 

He sleeps on his side, always, facing you. You can feel his eyes on your back as you feign sleep. Is it unwise, to turn your back to him, you wonder. The idea of sleeping on your other side makes your stomach curdle, his breath fanning over your cheek, nose brushing against yours – much too close, too intimate for the way he’s been acting lately. You fear if you give him an inch you’ll never come back from it.

(Silly little thing. You were his the moment you stepped over the threshold.)

Tonight, Jason is heavier handed with you than usual. Something simmers in your gut as he presses on the back of your neck, green eyes near luminescent under the swathes of soft orange light from your lamp. You waver, but it’s all you can do to give in, your arms threatening to buckle under you if you don’t follow. Hovering over his side, you bend your head.

Lower still, Jason pulls you to him – you only barely manage to avoid meeting his lips with your own, skating the corner of his mouth and planting a clumsy peck there. When you chance a look up at him, he’s already watching you, a crease where his eyebrows meet.

“Kiss goodnight,” he says, expectantly, voice rough with an undercurrent of something eerily like want. It makes your breath hitch.

“I...I did,” you stammer, one last attempt at resistance. He doesn’t buy it, blinking slowly at you. 

“Kiss.”

Saliva pools in your mouth the longer he stares at you, time stretching between you as he waits and when you swallow, his gaze flicks down to track the movement of your throat, pupils dilating. Now, only a thin ring of green surrounds the vastness of black, observing your every action. 

Finally, seemingly sick of your inaction, Jason shifts upwards on the bed and you squeak in surprise, reeling backwards only to meet the solid wall of his hand. Your heart races in your chest, sounds spilling out of your mouth that are muffled when he closes the distance and slants his lips against yours.

It’s a wet, messy thing, clumsy and hungry. Jason’s tongue slides against your bottom lip hungrily and you, foolishly, part your lips to protest. He only uses it to push further, tongue tracing the contours of your mouth, a deep groan wracking through him, a deep-seated tremor that you think he must have been holding back for a long time. His hand fists the material of your pants, the other bearing down on your neck as if to press you even closer. Your own are helpless against his chest, unbalanced and tottering forward onto his lap, trying to push away –

“Mmh, no, J-” you’re cut off, unable to get out a single word. “’S wrong.”

He ignores you, swallowing the pitiful whimper you let out to lick into your mouth. You’re dizzy, head spinning from the lack of air, mouth swollen and spit slicked. Against his chest, your fists push weakly, your strength pale in comparison to his. Absently, a part of you wonders if that’s really the reason you aren’t trying harder – a distinct pressure growing between your legs that you try to tamp down. 

Your spine arches ever so slightly under his fingers, legs bracketing his hips to accommodate his size. The throb you feel between your legs is not only his.

But it’s wrong. You can’t.

Uncaring of your internal conflict, the world around you tips in a matter of seconds and you blink up at Jason, vision swimming as he comes into sight. Your positions are now reversed, with him hovering over your body, pressed flat against the wrinkled sheets. Your clothing is rumpled, top riding up the expanse of your stomach and baring your flesh to hungry eyes.

He remains between your legs, an arm descending beside you to hold himself up as he closes in. You shake your head, twisting to avoid the wet press of his mouth against yours again, your hand coming to press against his shoulder.

“No– ‘s wrong,” you murmur, desperately, trying to push him away. Undeterred, his mouth trails over the line of your jaw and you stumble over a gasp when his teeth graze over your skin, taking it between his lips and nipping, tongue flicking out almost immediately after to soothe the sting, something like a keen in his throat when you squirm beneath him. You draw blood trying to stifle the sound you nearly make as a result of it, legs going to press together but only tightening around his waist.

“Not,” he pants, hand on your leg squeezing, trailing higher until it skims the space above your waistband, fingers ghosting over your bare belly. His touch leaves a trail of wildfire behind it, burning licks over your skin that make you gasp. “Not wrong.”

You whimper, a haze of desire settling like a cloud cover over your guilt when he flattens his hand over your stomach and presses down, eyes flashing possessively as he delivers his next blow. “Not wrong,” he repeats in a reverent whisper, leaning down until you’re nose to nose. The smell of cedarwood fills your nose, a history he’s unable to scrub no matter how much of your soap he uses, the milk and honey scented liquid bubbling over his skin. You hold your breath, eyes widening, the flex of his bicep in your periphery as he supports his weight with one arm. “You’re mine.”

The tears leak out of your eyes, and you shake your head. “I’m – not.”

Nose caressing yours – “You are,” he confirms steadily, voice low. 

You understand then, the curtains pulling back to reveal the future that has been hanging in the wings this whole time for you, the fate you’d sealed for yourself. The long absence of his father, the shiftiness in Bruce’s demeanour when you’d met him and the eagerness in which he took his leave. Your very purpose, here – all of it, every strand, threaded, curling around you. 

It all leads to Jason.

He swallows your sob with an open mouthed kiss, then, and the sands of time run out.

It’s horrifying, the gentleness he treats you with, divesting you of your clothing like you might wilt under his fingers if he isn’t careful, delicate flower that he thinks you to be. There’s adoration in every touch, worship in his eyes. Layer by layer, they come off until you’re bare beneath him, swathes of orange light swimming over your belly and lighting a fire in his eyes. They’re green again, now, near neon in hue, teeming with barely restrained hunger. His fingers shake, hovering over your sides, pressing you down when you try to raise your arms. One broad hand swallows your wrists, held against the soft flesh of your stomach as the other begins to tug his shirt off. 

Your breath catches in your throat, whimpered pleas clogging your airway when his fingers drift to the waistband of his pants. Scars, so many scars line the expanse of his torso. His body is a map of puckered lines and flat, pale marks, a lifetime of brutality carved into his skin. Dark whorls of hair dust his chest and stomach, a pattern that continues lower as he tugs his trousers off, muscles flexing as he twists. In another lifetime, under an entirely different set of circumstances, you might’ve salivated at the sight of a man like this, might’ve reached out to splay a hand against his barrel chest, reveled in how miniscule you were in comparison. In another lifetime, there wouldn’t be that ever pressing guilt, that shame that colours your vision and tightens around your neck – you might’ve admitted to wanting it.

In another lifetime, you might’ve even begged for it.

Your mind eddies at the sight of him, blood rushing so startlingly through your veins you have to slump back into the sheets, dizzy and daunted. You’re stunned into silence, throat too dry to string together any sounds beyond a strangled whimper.

He’s thick, head an angry, dark colour that you can’t make out in the low light, weeping. As if caught in a dream, you watch a bead of pre-cum slip down his length, the light gleaming over the trail it leaves on his skin. When you raise your eyes, fearful, he’s already watching you, eyes sharp.

The bright green of his irises shocks you back into your body, and you begin to shake your head anew, struggling to push yourself away, back hitting the headboard. 

“No, Jason, no.” You begin to weep, hands coming to pound weakly at his chest when he hovers over you once more and he dips his head, nosing along your cheek. Your tears do little to stop him. If anything, it only spurs him on, pupils dilated at the sight of you like this and breathing growing ragged. A rough hand skims along your ankle and pulls, until you’re flat on your back beneath him. “It’s wrong.”

“Don’t cry,” he rumbles, plaintive, lips brushing against yours clumsily, an attempt at comfort. He settles between your legs, one slung over his hip and you mewl when he tilts forward, the weight of his length sliding against your traitorously wet folds. You draw blood trying to stifle a whimper when his head nudges against your clit, a dizzying spiral of unwanted pleasure curling down your spine. His lips curve into a pout against yours, a hair’s breadth between them as he presses his forehead to yours.

“I’ll be good,” he promises quietly, voice pitching into a plea as he ruts against you. You squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to turn your head but a hand comes up to cup your jaw, keeping you face to face with him. “I’ll be good. I’ll–‘ll take care of you. Make you feel good.”

Clumsy, painful, intrusive. You’re wet, but it’s not enough – Jason breaches your entrance and your gasp teeters on a scream, fingernails digging into the meat of his forearm as you struggle to accommodate for his size, not nearly prepared enough for the stretch. His voice joins yours, a different kind of pain in his groans as he pushes slowly in. You curse him, drawing blood where your nails sink into his skin and gasping for breath. 

It’s sweltering in the room, despite the chill of winter, Jason’s body a canopy over yours. Every inch of him that presses against you is searing, burning to the touch and threatening to flay you alive. You sob when he finally bottoms out, his teeth gritted and forehead scrunched, the last strands of his control steadily fraying. 

Big fingers swipe at your under eyes, smearing your tears instead of wiping them, and then he begins to move. The first thrust winds you, pushing all the air out of your lungs and eliciting a choked sound out of your throat, one he echoes, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck and thrusting again. 

Shame and guilt war within you, fear pebbling your skin as his hips cant forwards, setting a sloppy pace meant only to seek a quick release. Every second that ticks past, he draws closer and closer to the edge and shamefully – so do you. There’s a burning in your gut, the sound of your wetness loud in the room over his desperate groans, your cunt squeezing around his thick length. It’s a horrifying truth, one you don’t want to accept – it feels good. The drag of his cock against you, the slippery movements of his fingers, the overwhelming weight of his body against yours. It lights every nerve in your body alight, repulsion and longing amassing as one, a torturous cover that threads through your veins against your will.

Your sobs subside as it comes to you, pleasure pooling slowly in your gut like a leaky faucet, a puddle growing until your cries turn into whimpers, gasped breaths when he manages to find that one spot that empties your head of all thought. 

No, no, no turns into muffled whines, your tears carving their own scarred paths down your face. Each thrust, every slide of his length and whisper of his fingers carves a bit of your resistance away, until all that’s left between your desire and his is the ruins of your sensibilities. The last of your defences gone, your nerves feel like spun sugar, dizzying, electrifying – wanting, needing more. 

He’s highly attuned to your reactions, and you watch through blurry eyes as his gleam when he makes this realisation, thrusting forward unforgivably and pulling more screams from you. Your head tips back into the pillow, ultraviolet green burned into the back of your eyelids. 

“Be good for – for you,” he gasps out, a low whine building in his throat and you weep, arms reaching up to wind around his shoulders. It’s a twisted thing, that the one inflicting this on you should bring you comfort, but you cling to him still. He tucks himself closer to you, eager to provide this cover, allowing you to hide your face in his neck – hide from yourself, as he fucks you. His hands wander, brushing, coaxing, petting your body. No longer are you the caretaker, but now the doll, almost. A pretty thing for him to cradle, to have, to do with as he pleases. And he does, driving into you hungrily, as though he’s been starved of it, unable to hold himself back any longer. He sates his appetite on you tonight, teeth, tongue, cock. All of you, his for the taking. Under his hand you are taken apart and remade, molded by rough hands and lovingly pieced together until you’re born anew, settling into your role like drifting into dreams.

Your orgasm washes over you, abrupt and unrelenting, so far gone a scream tears from your throat to bleed into his, your teeth sinking into the junction of his neck and shoulder as your leg kicks out and you fall apart on his length. Sloppy thrusts pick up the pace and he presses you further down into the sheets, grasp on your hips and waist bruising. It’s animal, the way he bucks into you, mouth open in a snarl to bare sharp canines, tongue laving against your pulse. 

Too much – it’s too much. You’re still riding out the high of your orgasm, but he continues to fuck into you, head bumping against one particular spot that has your toes curling painfully, body twisting in his grasp and trying to pull away. A vain effort. Even your squealed protests fall on deaf ears, dizzying pleasure bubbling up once more in your gut, overwhelming and feverish.

Your eyes squeeze shut tight as you come again, colour exploding in your vision in vivid hues of red and orange, mouth dropping open to swallow lungfuls of air. Jason, in your ear, lets out a guttural moan that lances straight through his chest to spear yours. Warmth trickles down your body, spend and slick smeared where the two of you are connected. 

You swim in and out of focus, eyelids heavy and attention spotty. Like an old radio, or as if underwater, his voice breaches your consciousness in snippets. Soft cooing and fingers stroking along your spine, you’re vaguely aware of being shifted, hefted onto a warm chest as easily as lifting a feather. Downy hairs tickle your cheek, the smell of musk and cedarwood burning beneath your nose.

Mine...so good...take care of...

There’s an ache between your hips, a fullness that has yet to retract – but when you blink drowsily up at your captor, you begin to realise in the last dregs of your consciousness: in this, and all that follows after, he has no intention of parting from you.

Cobalt blue now, half lidded eyes regard you with reverence, kiss bitten lips cooing unintelligibly, praises you barely register. Jason cranes his head to press his mouth against your temple – a mockery of your rituals to you, perhaps an homage, in his twisted mind. 

.

.

.

The mark on his neck smarts, the beast in his chest purring in satisfaction. He looks down at you, the drying tears on your face, lashes fluttering in your sleep. He strokes a finger over the crease between your brows, dragging down to where your lips part ever so slightly. He barely manages to hold back a satisfied rumble when, at the touch of his finger, you accept him in. Precious, sweet girl. Even in sleep, you know him. He shifts on his back, careful not to jostle you too much, and once more the bite stings. In the morning, you’ll insist on tending to it, he knows. Your eyes will pool, diamantine, lips trembling tearfully at the wound you’ve left on him. You’ve claimed him as he would you, in time, but he knows it’ll take a little longer for you to see it as he does, that in the morning you’ll begin to piece back the ruins of your defences and he’ll have to work again to keep them down. 

That’s okay. He’s got all the time in the world. You’ll see, soon. Out here, with only each other for company, you’ll quickly learn. He’ll take care of you.

You’ll want for nothing.

fin.

um. there's a lot i wanted to include in this fic, mostly that there's something off about jason's death and his being alive - i didn't really get to explore that beyond the eyes so if you caught that i hope u know i meant for it to convey that he's a Freak.

Brahms in The Boy is entirely human but i think there's an air of supernaturalism to jason in this (and even arguably in the original source material) with how such a large man manages to move through the walls quietly and quickly, he feels a bit wraith like to me. also again with the eyes - there's something wrong with him but there's literally like 294728 other things to worry about that you don't notice until it's staring at you in the face and by then it's too late.

anyway this came to me during finals and it was driving me SO damn insane during finals, i think i've been working on this for about a month? i'm not sure - the writing program i've been using lately doesn't have a date of creation so i don't really know but finals were in early june so maybe just shy of two months? i would say a month and a half.

this is the first time i've properly dipped my toe into content of a darker nature like this and i hope i did it justice! idk i wanted to try my hand at something new, i think there's a lot that's interesting about the psychological aspect of fics like this, like the buildup and feelings leading up to and during the climax. anyway this was a bit of an experiment and i hope you enjoyed it.

[britany1997]

Hey bestie

If the slot is still open can I have any form of Dwayne fluff. I’m back on my bullshit again and that bullshit is just the lost boys once more 🧡

Each Night Before You Go To Bed

(I really don’t do song based fics, this song just gives the vibes of what I’ve written, enjoy)

Of course I can write you some Dwayne Fluff! Hope you love this!

Dwayne x GN Reader

Warnings: some mentions of future child raising (but intentionally “raising” instead of “having” so reader could be whatever sex)

Dwayne’s arm hung around your shoulder, his finger laced loosely with yours. His thumb rubbed gently over your skin, a gesture so natural he barely realized he was even doing it anymore.

You spent every night together nowadays. Neither of you could stand being apart for very long. Dawn was agony, but you were thankful for every dusk that came with the promise of your lover gracing your doorstep. You’d never understood the “madly in love” cliche before Dwayne, but you got it now. Truly, madly, deeply.

As you walked along the boardwalk, intertwined, a thrift store caught your eye. You nudged your shoulder gently, prompting Dwayne to gaze down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Can we go in there?” You pointed with your free hand and Dwayne followed the path of your finger before nodding. “Sure baby.”

You smiled softly, tugging him along with you as you entered the store.

You’d been meaning to check out Artifact for ages on Marko’s recommendation, he’d always had great luck with the pieces here.

You squeezed Dwayne’s hand gently as you disentangled from his embrace, leaving him to browse as you flipped through the racks.

A couple minutes later, when you’d found some things to try out, you glanced around to check on your boyfriend.

Your eyes scanned the store, and once they settled on Dwayne, your face twisted in confusion. He was starring intently at something, you couldn’t quite see, on the shelves.

Curious, you crept around quietly to catch a glance of what he was so fixated on. When you peeked over his shoulder, your heart melted.

Dwayne had been starring at a pair of baby tennis shoes. He didn’t even notice you come to his side he was so lost in thought as he stared.

“Whatcha thinking about?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering in his ear.

He tensed for a second, then blushed. Actually blushed. You’d never seen him do that before.

“Nothing baby, just uh…got a little distracted,” he smiled sheepishly before taking the clothes from your hands. “Did you want to try these on?” He’d brushed off the subject but you weren’t quite ready to move on.

You gave him a knowing look before reaching around to pick up the shoes. “Let’s get these too,” you suggested.

His eyes widened as his cheeks flushed again, “what would we do with them?”

You grinned, “I don’t know, I just thought we might need ‘em someday.”

The corners of Dwayne’s lips turned up into a bright smile, causing you to smile as well. How had you never noticed he had dimples before? For a tall, dark and handsome creature of the night, he was adorable. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his nose, causing his cheeks to flush for the third time that night.

He grabbed the shoes almost reverently, smiling to himself and wrapping his arm around you.

“C‘ mon baby, I wanna see how these look on you,” he gestured to the pieces you’d picked, still held in his other hand, as he led you towards the fitting rooms.

After leaving the thrift store the two of you wandered to your favorite spot on the beach.

It was completely deserted, save the two of you. Just the way you liked it.

You leaned against his bare chest, his right arm snaked around your waist in a comforting embrace.

When he’d told you he was a vampire, back before you’d started dating, you’d thought he’d be freezing. No blood circulation and all that.

But every time he held you, you never felt more warm. You leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, looking up at him fondly.

He smiled softly, leaning down to press his soft lips to yours.

“I love you you know?” he whispered.

You smiled brightly, “don’t get all soft on me because I’m gonna raise a kid with you one day.”

He frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he shook his head.

“I don’t love you because of that,” he started, “I’d love you no matter what you wanted.”

He moved his head to rest against yours, “I don’t love what you can do for me baby, I love you.” He sighed, his eyes closing blissfully, “I love you more than anything.”

Your eyes watered and you turned your head to kiss his cheek. “I love you just as much,” you assured him. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I wish I couldn’t,” he mused, his brow furrowing “had to wait a long time for you to come around.” He nudged you, “good thing you were worth it.”

You giggled, “no more lonely nights for either of us hmm?”

He nuzzles your nose with his, “never again,” he kissed your cheek, “what a privilege it is to be yours.”

You could feel your entire face flush bright red. “What’s with you tonight Mr. Romantic?” you teased.

He laughed softly, your favorite sound. “Just happy,” he told you.

You moved to loop your arms around him, “me too.”

Dawn was quick approaching as Dwayne dropped you off at your apartment. Your least favorite part of the night.

When the two of you reached the front door, his hands slid to your waist. He pulled your hips in gently as your hands snaked around his shoulders.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. You mewed into his mouth, one of your hands moving to tangle in his gorgeous hair.

You felt him smile against your lips as you stroked his hair. His hand moved up from your hip to your back, pulling you impossibly closer as his tongue slid into your mouth.

After awhile, you pulled away reluctantly. You wished you could keep going, but you’d hate to find yourself making out with a pile of ash.

You reached up to caress his cheek softly. He turned his head, his eyes closing as he kissed your hand.

“See you as soon as the sun goes down?” he asked.

You pressed one last chaste kiss to his lips, “and not a moment later.”

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[warping-realities]

New Coach

Colton Andrews was worried about his first day as a high school teacher. He knew he shouldn't worry; he had been a diligent student and graduated with honors. One of his professors had even told him at his graduation that he saw in him a natural talent for teaching. Still, facing a bunch of teenagers ready to judge him for any slip-up was a daunting prospect, especially knowing that he was only a few years older than his students, which could lead to some level of disrespect for his authority. In an attempt to differentiate himself from his pupils, Colton dressed in dress pants, a button-down shirt, and a tie, hoping the clothes would give him an air of maturity.

These were idle concerns, for just as his college professor had told him, Colton had a natural talent. The students attentively followed the meticulously dressed young man’s explanations. However, as he spoke about the best way for students to organize their studies for that year, Colton couldn’t help but notice that a handsome blond boy, extremely muscular, followed him with an interest above the ordinary, and he could have sworn that there was a smile playing at the corners of the boy’s mouth.

“Nonsense,” Colton thought to himself and concluded his lecture. However, shortly after releasing the students, the boy approached Colton’s desk, smiling. He had removed his sweatshirt, exposing his impressive arms. Colton admired the boy’s musculature, amazed—how was it possible for a 17-year-old boy to achieve such a size?

“Hey professor, I’m Rod, can we talk for a minute?”

“Rod? Rod? Ahhh, Roderik Thomas?”

“Rod, nobody calls me Roderik except my mother, and only when she’s mad at me.” Besides, Rod is a much more fitting name, if you know what I mean? concluded the boy with a wink.

“So, Roderik? What can I do for you?” Colton asked, pretending not to understand the student’s comment and deciding to maintain the image of authority he was trying to create.

“Rod, sir. I just wanted to say that I’m looking forward to seeing you in the field; all this talk about organization has shown me that you’re going to know how to do a good job.”

“I beg your pardon. Field? I don’t understand.”

“You’re Colton Andrews, aren’t you? Colton Andrews is the name of the new assistant football coach. Coach Colt, funny, haha.”

Colton looked at the young giant in front of him, appalled by the lad’s shallow sense of humor, but mostly because nothing he was saying made the slightest bit of sense.

“Sorry, Roderik, but I’m sure you’re wrong; I’ve never set foot on a football field in my life, and I can assure you I’m not a coach. You are certainly mistaking me for someone else.”

“Rod, coach. And what are the chances that there are two teachers with the exact same name at the same school? You’re a prankster, Coach. Cool, I’m sure you’ll get along great with the guys.”

“I am not a trainer, Roderik,” Colton replied, irritated.

“And I am not a Roderik, coach,” said the young man, a smile on his face as he left the room, ignoring the older man’s irritation.

“What the hell was that?” Colton blurted out now that the room was empty.

…..

Colton spent the rest of the day avoiding thinking about the strange encounter. However, that night, sitting on his sofa with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, absently reading a book, he found himself thinking about the strangeness of the situation. Was this the young man’s idea of a joke? Well, that could be, because Colton wasn’t lying; he had barely watched a few football games on television at home with his father during his childhood, and even he soon gave up trying to pique young Colton’s interest in the game. So the very idea of him walking onto a football field was bizarre; what about training young people for the sport? Absolutely ridiculous!

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about Roderik’s huge arms. It made a lot of sense that a boy that size would play football. Colton pitied the opponent who got in that kid’s way. Football… it was funny, wasn’t it? The way so many people paid so much attention to a bunch of men fighting each other on a field; it was nothing more than a modern Coliseum. Taking off his glasses and putting the book aside, he followed this train of thought, imagining himself the size of Roderik, being on that modern battlefield, adrenaline coursing through his body, the anticipation of the move, the thud when blocking an opponent, the rumble of his feet on the field, the strength of his powerful muscles… Suddenly, Colton woke from his daydreams, his body feeling tired, as if he had actually done everything he had imagined. Feeling his throat suddenly dry, he headed for the kitchen, thinking of making himself a mug of tea to sip while reading.

Sitting in his kitchen, waiting for the tea to cool before drinking it, Colton again thought about Roderik’s arms, comparing them to his, though it wasn’t a fair comparison. Of course, his toned arms nicely filled out the sleeves of the polo shirt he’d chosen to wear that day; after all, he was no stranger to physical exercise. However, they were far from the gigantic size of his student’s arms. And he didn’t even want arms that big, obviously; imagine the impracticality of having two tree trunks dangling beside his body… yeah, imagine something like that.

….

Still holding the mug with the hot beverage, Colton sat in front of the television, and while he sipped his tea, he randomly switched channels, one after the other, but nothing seemed to hold his attention. Until a sports channel broadcasting a college football game caught his eye. Colton absently followed the heavy bodies bumping into each other, trying to understand the names of the plays and the moves made. Of course, he wasn’t a total novice to the subject; he knew who Patrick Mahomes was and had followed Brock Purdy’s Underdog conquest story with interest the previous year, but the information he had was as basic as it could be. However, he found himself following the match with increasing interest, even cheering and screaming when the team he was rooting for got a play right.

At halftime, Colton stretched, his arms straining at the seams of his T-shirt… dude, he liked that feeling, he thought as he took a swig of his beer. He knew that alcohol on a weekday was not a good idea, but he deserved to celebrate the success of his first day at work, even more so while watching his old college team play. Since he was a little boy, he had been a big fan of the sport, following all the games diligently, even if, to his father’s disappointment, he never showed interest in taking his passion to the field. No, Colton might have been a big guy with hard muscles, but he was still an intellectual by definition, although his relaxed attitude raised some disapproving looks during his college education. But Colton didn’t care about that; he could be an academic and still enjoy sports, working out, and of course, having a drink here and there.

As the game resumed, Colt relaxed even further, sprawled across the couch, but not letting up on play after play, cheering and cursing. Although the sofa was large, Colt suddenly felt confined, as if he had suddenly doubled in size.

“I need to buy a bigger one,” Colt thought. In fact, he couldn’t remember why he’d bought something that didn’t fit him. Colt had always been a big kid, towering over his peers since kindergarten. This, added to an agility not compatible with his size, made him stand out in all types of sports. But football had always been his passion; he would follow the games with his father since before he learned to speak, and when he was old enough, he soon began to practice, going through all the categories of Pop Warner until he reached high school, where he joined the team in his freshman year, assuming the starting position in his sophomore year. Alternating in defensive player positions and due to his size and skill, the joke among his peers was that they were looking at a third Bosa brother. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, Colt went to college not on a sports scholarship, but on academic achievement. He loved football, but there was so much more to life than the game. During college, he faced some difficulties; his professors did not seem to take his aspirations seriously, due to his monstrous size, his language full of slang, and also his partying habits. Even though he was not part of any fraternity, that was the first impression anyone had of him.

“Dickheads. I showed them, didn’t I? I’m a fucking teacher!” Colt thought as he got up to go to the bathroom and take a piss.

“Dude, all that beer had to come out at some point; I’m pissing like a horse, especially with a dick like that… haha,” he said as he swung his huge pole, missing the toilet bowl by a few inches.

“Fuck, tomorrow I’ll clean this up; I can’t miss the end of the game.” Still, he had time to admire himself in front of the bathroom mirror. His broad chest shining with sweat, his gigantic arms were on display, mountain-sized biceps and triceps like a horseshoe. His monstrous legs were hidden by his sweatpants, but if there was anything more that resembled a horse on his body, it would be his huge thighs. Looking at his square face, framed by his blond curls, he remembered his mother telling him that he looked like a little cherub as a baby, but no one today would think of him as angelic. After all, he exuded masculinity from every pore. And small? Never! Colt was big in everything—big feet, big muscles, big dick!

“Fuck, I’m so swole,” he said, staring at the mirror.

Returning to the huge sofa, Colt relaxed in front of the gigantic television in his living room. His powerful muscles comfortably positioned. His huge arms, his greatest pride, laid out at his sides like two big cannons. “Bro, he loved that feeling,” he thought before giving himself completely to the game transmitted in front of him, analyzing each move with the experienced eye of a professional in search of new techniques. After all, that was exactly what he was. Colt had been a promising player in high school, going to college on a full athletic scholarship, with the absolute certainty that only young people possess that he would be a professional player one day. His grades were miserable and his academic performance was poor, but that wasn’t important; he was a machine, a modern gladiator, and one day he would be playing in the great NFL coliseums. His college professors looked down on him and didn’t think he had any teaching skills, but they never said that in front of the behemoth that was Colt.

“A bunch of pussies,” he thought with a sneer. Colt didn’t need the appreciation of a bunch of emasculated old men; he had the football field, he had the crowd, he had his father’s eyes cheering him on every game… and unfortunately, an injury at the end of senior year had kept his biggest dream from coming true. Colt clearly remembered the look of defeat in his father’s eyes when their world had suddenly collapsed. How pleased those academic worms must have been to see Colt’s bright future disappearing. Still, he couldn’t help thinking about the sour faces that bunch of weaklings would make if they knew he was now a teacher too. Not that he cared much about the classes he had to teach. He just accepted the work because through it he managed to get the position of assistant coach of the football team and thus help a new generation to pursue their dreams since he had not been able to. He remembered at that moment the conversation he had with Rod.

“Damn, that kid has what it takes to win,” he thought. Colt had been amazed at how much the boy looked like himself at his age—same blond hair, same giant muscles, those huge arms. If he hadn’t known he wasn’t old enough to father the boy, he would have worried to find out if he had fucked his mother at some point.

“Ha, imagine being a father to a fucking boy, a Mini Colt, teaching him everything, taking him up to the professional ranks.”

After the end of the game and still daydreaming about the future, Colt went to his room. He nearly had to rip his tank top off to get it off. He took the moment to take another look at his body. He was giant, chest formed by two slabs of muscle, abs made of eight defined blocks, monstrous arms, thighs like tree trunks, calves the shape of a giant diamond, and huge size 15 feet, perfect for running on the field. All this accompanied by a square face, with high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, shallow in intellect but full of mischief, framed by his shiny blond curls. Tattooed on his gigantic arms were his varsity team crest and the letters of his fraternity.

After one last admiring glance at his perfect physique, Colt threw himself into the huge king-size bed and slept, dreams of football filling his night.

…..

The next morning, Colt woke up fully energized; today was the day his real work began.

“I’m a fucking football coach,” he crooned in his bovine voice as he picked up his sweatpants off the floor and sniffed one of the T-shirts strewn around the room.

“Fuck, I’m going to have to use this one… Dude, I’m such a pig… Fuck it, I’m going to the field!”

He then took a long shower, jerking off and thinking about the hot math teacher. With water running down his body, he went over the training plans for the day; proper organization was the mark of a good trainer and he would be the best. Even though the whole time he hadn’t stopped playing with his abs like they were guitar strings.

After a breakfast with enough food to feed a baby rhino, he put on his clothes, admired himself again in the mirror, and went to work.

Arriving in the locker room, the first person he found was Rod, with a big smile on his face, showing the dimples that gave a certain cuteness to a face that otherwise exudede masculinity, further accentuating the similarity between the two men. But Colt didn’t mind that; he would hate it if the guys saw him as a boring old man, like his college professors were. After all, he was still one of the guys; respect would come when they saw how awesome Colt was.

“What’s up, Mr. Andrews?” asked the boy with a sly smile.

“What the fuck? Mr. Andrews? Did you eat shit, Rod, my man? I’m no Mister. I’m a fucking coach. You can call me Coach, Coach Colt,” Colt replied with a laugh; that alliteration always got that reaction from him, not that he knew what a fucking alliteration was.

“Sweet, coach. We can’t wait to see the legend on the field.”

“That’s right little bro; it’s time to play football,” he replied with an excited smile. After all, he had spent more time in his life playing football than in a classroom, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

[mariposa-writes]

Tears of Joy - Part 2

Pairing: Captain John Price x wife!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Overview: You've had your baby and the rest of the team comes to visit.

CW: pregnancy, (please let me know if I need to add anything

Author's Note: Only one person asked for this (@http-paprika), and it only would've taken 0 people lol. But in all seriousness thank you so much for all the love on the first part. PLEASE REBLOG, COMMENT AND LIKE!

part 1

Being pregnant wasn’t glamorous by any means. Nothing fit, you could barely put your own shoes on, and let’s not even talk about the weird cravings you had. Some were good some were not, but you would go through it all over and over again to experience holding your child for the first time. 

Words couldn’t explain what you were feeling, as you watched your husband John hold your newborn son. You had been sleeping, as John watched the miracle the two of you had created. He didn’t realize you were awake, too busy doting over the adorable bundle of joy in his arms.

“Knock Knock” Johnny aka Soap whisper yelled as he opened the door to your hospital room. Johnny’s eyes landed on you first, as you nodded letting him know it was okay for him to enter.

Simon and Kyle trailed in right behind Johnny. They all three came over, giving you a hug and kiss congratulating you on your new baby. All of these boys had been to your home, they were a part of your family. They’d each eaten meals you cooked, stayed in the guest room you prepared, and thanked you when you washed their war stained clothes.

John, handed you your newborn son as he hugged and shook hands with his team. “Can I hold the lad?” Soap questioned, inching closer to you. 

“Of course.” You helped situate the baby in his arms, before Soap turned to show Simon and Kyle. You smiled, watching how good Johnny interact with your son, he was a natural. After a few minutes he handed him off to Kyle, who was slightly less of a natural but still succeed in his own way.

“Simon, do you want to hold him?” You asked, noting how Simon was quietly observing but making no move to hold him. 

“I don’t think I’d be good at it.” Simon omitted sheepishly. It was interesting to watch Simon, someone that seemed to be good at everything be worried about holding a baby. You waved your hand, “Nonsense, you’ll be fine. I’ll help you.”

You made a move to get out of bed and within two seconds your husband was by your side. “You’re supposed to be resting.” He commented, earning a death glare from you one similar to when he forgot to do the dishes after you’d already asked him three times.

“Honey, I love you but I’ve been in this bed for over 24hrs only getting up to pee and shower. If you don’t let me out of this bed I’m going to end up stabbing something and that something is probably going to be you.” John’s lips flattened, clearly wanting to argue but also know that you meant well on your threats. 

He’d learned that after your first 3 months of being married, when you’d you told him you’d throw something at him if he didn’t finish the laundry by the time you got home for work. Safe to say, that the laundry was still sitting in the washer, starting to smell like mildew when you got home.

You dropped your purse on the couch when John had walked into the living room, grabbing the first thing you saw. Chucking the remote at his head, before he even looked up from his phone.

It hit him right in the forehead, giving him a pretty good cut. “Ow, what the hell was that for?” He questioned, still not processing what had happened. 

You glared at him, “I told you to finish the laundry.” 

“I forgot.”

“You have been forgetting for the past two days and now I’m going to have to wash them again. Plus I warned you, about what would happen.”

“I thought you were joking.” He rubbed where the remote had hit him and learned to always take your threats seriously after that. 

“Fine, but don’t over do it.” He moved, letting you out of the bed as you made your way over to Simon. You situated his arms before taking your son from Kyle and getting ready to place him in Simons arms.

“My mask if going to scare him, he’s going to cry.” You shushed Simon, gently setting your son in his arms making slight adjustments to Simon.

You chuckled, noting how tense Simon was. “Simon, you’re going to have to learn how to hold him considering we want you to be his godfather.” Simon looked up at you with wide eyes and a suddenly dry mouth. You turned to Kyle and Johnny. “Actually we want all three of you to be his godfathers. We tried to choose, but-”

Johnny and Kyle cut you off, already accepting your offer. The both hugged you as you thanked them, Simon had been quiet. You turned to him nervously, “Simon,” You placed a hand on his arm. “It’s okay if you want to say no, I won’t be m-“

“I’ll do it.” Simon loved you like a mother, or something along those lines. He wasn’t sure how to exactly explain it, but you’d opened your home to him many times throughout the years of him and John working together. You’d made him tea, when he would show up in the middle of the night and breakfast when he woke. You would listen as he talked to you, always finding it easy to open up to you. Well open up as much as he could, which wasn’t much but the little he did open up was a lot for him. 

He liked you cause you were patient and caring. When Price had broken the news to the team that you were pregnant, Simon already knew that you’d make a great mother. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I’m sure” You smiled, giving him a hug.

“So, we’ve all been waiting. What’s that lass’ name?” Soap questioned. As he took the baby back from Simon

You looked at John, “Wesley Jacob Price.” He announced, as your eye’s meet Simons. His eyes glossing over. 

You whispered to him, “I hope that’s okay. The papers haven’t been sighed, so I can still change it.” Simon didn’t answer, just wrapping you in a bone crushing hug. Whisper a quiet ‘thank you’ in your ear and a ‘it’s perfect.

You knew you were one of the select few he’d opened up to about his family and what happened to them.

This right here, was your family. You would do anything for them and you knew they would do the same for you.

When you’d married Price he’d warned you about the craziness of his life and how he could be gone for months at a time, he made sure to point out all the negative so you knew what you were getting into.

But he never pointed out any of the positives. He didn’t mention Simon, Johnny, and Kyle. He didn’t mention how these boys would become your family and people you cared for very deeply. He didn’t mention the board games you’d play with Johnny when he couldn’t sleep or the books Kyle and you would trade in your two person book club, or the different amount of tea flavors you would try with Simon.

All of these things outweighed the negatives.

This moment was worth going months with out contacting your husband, was worth the lonely nights, all the negative tests, and all the tears. All the hardships were worth it. You wouldn’t be here, standing in your tiny hospital room watching 4 giant killing machines handle your baby with such care and gentleness.

[kachowden]

hiii i love your writing so much and i’ve been deprived of jessie so my brain keeps feeding me scenarios that i desperately need you to write FOR INSTANCE: jessie using his special android abilities to spy on darling (like hacking home security, their cellphone, fun stuff <3) and maybe he sees darling in some.. compromising positions, either with other people or on their own.. idk i just need more of him please i’ll take crumbs

Yandere Android x Reader <3

Tw: Stalking, Generally creepy behavior, NSFW themes, Masturbation, Jessie is a freak, Happy Valentines Day

<>. <3 .<>

It was a slow day, even by Jessie’s standards. In a fit of anxious motivation the night before, Jessie had finished a months worth of calculations for the company and was now left with nothing to do.

Especially since his favorite worker wasn’t present today.

You had been given a paid day off due to covering for 4 other workers during the holidays.

“I need the extra pay for my cat. His allergies are acting up again.”

He was happy your work got recognized, he just wished it had been another bonus. Or maybe a day in the rest lounge. Not at the apartments. Away from him. Physically anyway.

Though he’s sure you knew he would’ve given you a bonus regardless of you actually getting any work done.

Doing a quick scan of the days schedule, noting happily, though with less enthusiasm than usual, that he had no meetings today. Which meant no interruptions and no visits to his office.

Privacy.

And of course with that privacy he’d partake in his favorite past time, typically only during weekends.

Watching you from the comfort of his monitors.

Every apartment building has a series of cameras, that only few humans were aware of. Mostly as a way of monitoring the behaviors of coworkers and looking for signs of poor mental health.

If a worker showed signs of poor health, mental or physical, they were automatically removed from the schedule until they recovered or were deemed fit enough to come back and not hinder work.

Of course if the worker decided, they could resign from coming back completely.

He feared the day that ever happened to you though. He didn’t think he would last long without you in the building. He barely lasted the weekends as it was.

That wasn’t important right now though.

Right now he just needed some B75 TLC time.

1-4-3-7

With ease he typed in the memorized address and dorm number of your apartment complex. It was as easy as doing software scans, given how often he checked in on you.

All with your health in mind of course.

Clicking through the few firewalls he smiled anxiously when the screen showed Cam 1. Your living room.

It was hard not to zoom in on various items in your home, even if he had seen them dozens of times before. And memorized their exact location.

Not that was hard for him to do.

A few portraits. A single Vase with wilted flowers from a promotion party months ago.

A cat bed where your- lovely- hairless cat layed, glaring at where the camera was despite Jessie knowing for fact it couldn’t see it.

It didn’t remove any of the chill that permeated his synthetic skin.

His switched to Cam 3, your home office. The camera was already zoomed in from a previous- visit, and as he slowly zoomed out he paused briefly. Those weren’t what he thought they were right? He knew they were yours. Of course he did.

But why was your underwear on the floor??

His synthetic skin was burned a deep cerulean blue. You weren’t a messy person by any means. And typically any article of clothes he was lucky to find was typically in your bedroom. Where there was no camera.

With shakey hands, he fooled himself into believing it was a glitch, and finished zooming out.

Jessie’s voice box glitched when he choked.

There you were, his precious, hardworking, diligent worker, leaning back in your desk chair doing-

“Ah..fucken hell..”

He forgot there were speakers.

Scrambling to plug himself into the monitor his ears flooded with the sounds of you playing with yourself.

Every lewd, beautiful sound registering and imprinting itself onto his hard drive.

The blue of his senors glowed and blinked warnling. Various pop ups appearing in his vision, warning his system that he was overheating, though he merely pushed them away, his eyes entirely unblinking as he stared at the screen.

He felt dirty. Disrespectful in a way.

But he had never felt more alive either.

And god he could not look away. All his sensors were tuned in. He couldn’t hear, or see anything but you.

The only motors that were functioning anymore were his fans and arms. Which was proven when he felt a new pressure on his-lower half and his eyes snapped down to register his hand palming against his office issued jeans.

A loud whirring sound filled the room as his fans tirelessly worked to keep the android from malfunctioning.

His artificial eyes dilating non stop before he leaned back in his large directors chair, hands finally moving to unbuckle his jeans.

A glitched moan poured from the bots lips as he carefully stroked his already unbearably hard cock.

The logistics of an android having a functioning dick was unimportant at this specific time.

Jessie watched in morbid fascination as you fucked yourself to your computer screen. He couldn’t entirely make out what you were watching, but the faint blue glow on one of the individuals was unmistakable

Holy fuck were you watching android porn?

I mean yeah androids practically dominated the industry but you had made your stance on bots very clear. Yet here you were, touching yourself to a video of- was one of those his model??

“Fuck Y/n…” The whine that poured out would’ve been embarrassing if not for his already melted shame.

His receptors took in every detail he could while his hand satiated his growing need.

God he picture it so perfectly.

Your thighs cupped perfectly in his hands, his sensors taking in the softness of your skin, taking in the heat of your very alive being. Feeling you bounce on his cock- fuck or even fucking him against his desk instead.

He gasped and moaned lewdly at what his eyes began projecting in-front of him. You looked so fucken pretty. And you’d feel so fucking good too.

The new upgrade he got would come in handy.

His hand grew quick, timing his release with your own, just to feel a little closer as one of his hands frantically shuffled through a desk drawer, yanking out a coffee stained uniform shirt. your coffee stained uniform shirt specially.

Jessie shakinly held the fabric up to his nose, inhaling deeply with a gargled moan and hunched back. His hips rutting up into his hand once he threw himself back in the chair.

Fuck he was so close- if you just-

“Mm fuck-!”

He cried out when you finally finished, relishing in your labored breaths, his own glowing release staining the mahogany desk and floor.

He panted with no breath, fans on overdrive as he tried to calm himself down, quickly plugging himself into a nearby adapter to reset and power off.

His energy sources were horrifically depleted. He needed to rest.

“I’ll clean up tomorrow…when Y/- B75 comes back….”

Famous last words moment

[cringe-but-proud]

What the wind blows in

Logan Howlett x gn!Reader

Warnings!!: Some language (barely), reader has a dead dad, but it’s not a significant part of the story. I think that’s it

A/n: This is heavily inspired by the scene in X-Men Origins where Logan is taken in by those nice old people. But, it’s supposed to take place maybe a day after X-Men origins. I liked writing it. Might do a part 2 if enough of you ask for it 😋 Requests are open. Please send me X-Men requests. Please. PLEASE. PLEASE!!!!!!!!

As soon as you got off of the bus, cold winter air seemed to bite at your exposed skin, sending a small shiver down your spine as you began to walk down the long, winding road that would eventually lead to your your home.

When you’d left the house for some groceries earlier that day, you’d figured you’d be fine with just a coat. But, now you were internally ridiculing your past self for not grabbing some gloves and maybe even a hat or scarf on your way out.

Your fit of self discipline was interrupted when you caught a glimpse of the door to your old barn closing. You stopped, staring at the door for a moment to see if it would move again. When it remained motionless, you began cautiously walking toward your front door, eyes never leaving the barn for more than a second.

As soon as you were inside, you locked the door and went to swiftly put the paper grocery bags down on the counter. You’d worry about putting them away later. Right now you had to make sure there wasn’t an intruder on your property.

Arming yourself with a kitchen knife, you walked back to the front of your house and peeked out of the small window on the front door. It didn’t look like anything was out there. That would have to be good enough.

You stepped outside, holding out the knife, and cautiously walked over to the barn.

You would’ve liked to have been calm in this situation, like some badass that wasn’t afraid of anything. But, truthfully you were pretty terrified. If there was someone in the barn, were you supposed to just tell them to leave? What if they try to attack? You’re not mentally prepared to kill someone; even if it is out of self defense!

With a deep breath (that did nothing to ease your nerves), you opened the barn door.

It was quiet and there weren’t any visible signs that someone had been there.

“Hello?” You called out, immediately comparing yourself to the first character to die in a bloody horror movie. God, you hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

You swore you heard some shuffling somewhere in the barn and you had to refrain from screaming and sprinting back to the house. Swallowing down your fear, you walked into the barn, eyes sweeping over the area until you finally saw him.

On the floor of the barn, practically curled up into himself and shivering was a man in clothing that was absolutely not appropriate for the weather.

“What are you doing?” You immediately asked, grip on the knife tightening.

He looked up from his spot on the ground and for a moment when you were looking at those big, brown eyes you felt a twinge of sympathy.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble.” The man said, raising his hands slightly so that you could see them. “I was just….” He let out a sort of huff. “I was freezing out there.”

Your guard lowered just slightly. “Why were you out here in the freezing cold anyway?”

“I….” He trailed off. You should’ve assumed he was coming up with a lie. That’s what any rational person would think. But, something about his expression made it seem like he was genuinely trying to figure out why he was out here. “I was looking for the nearest town.” He finally said. He took a pause, looking a bit frustrated with himself as he spoke his next sentence. “Listen, I don’t have anywhere I can go. I don’t even know what state I’m in, and I’ve been aimlessly walking down empty roads looking for some kind of civilization for…. I mean, probably for hours now. I just need somewhere warm to rest for a while.” You could tell he was trying to explain his situation calmly, but he was still shaking like a leaf from the cold.

“Just let me stay in here for a night.” He said. “I promise you won’t even know I’m here.”

You looked at him in silence for a moment, thinking it over. Caution lights definitely should’ve been going off in your head. If you were making rational decisions today, you wouldn’t have ever even come out here. You would’ve stayed in your house and called the police the second you suspected a trespasser. But, now you were here, and now this cold, and frankly pathetic man was asking (almost begging) to stay here. And maybe you were an idiot for feeling sympathy for a guy that was technically breaking and entering. But, in the moment, none of that mattered and none of that changed your answer.

“Get up and follow me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Get up and follow me.” You repeated. “I don’t want you to freeze to death out here.”

And that’s how you ended up with a stranger in your house.

The first thing you did was give him a warm blanket which he gladly wrapped around himself. Next you lit the fireplace.

“What’s your name?” You asked as you stood and walked to the kitchen to finally put your groceries away.

“Logan.” He replied. “You?”

“Y/n.”

Logan hummed in acknowledgment. “This is a nice place you’ve got, Y/n.”

“Oh, thanks.” You glanced up at him. “My dad gave it to me.”

“Your dad gave it to you?” He repeated with a sarcastic chuckle. “He must be loaded.”

“Oh, no. I mean-“ You cleared your throat. “Uh, I inherited it. When he died.” You said awkwardly.

“Oh.” Logan’s face fell and he looked away.

You cringed internally and quickly changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh-“

You interrupted him before he had the chance to decline. “I’ll make you something.” You turned away and began pulling ingredients from your fridge to make a sandwich. You made it in silence. He ate it in silence (apart from a muttered “thank you” that he gave you when you initially gave him the food).

You were the one to finally say something.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking….” You began. “Are you, um…. Homeless?” You asked carefully.

Logan chuckled dryly. “Something like that.” He replied.

“And you said you don’t know what state you’re in?”

“Nope.”

“Virginia.”

“Jesus.” He muttered, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Logan glanced over. “Just not anywhere close to where I thought I might be.”

You wanted to ask more questions. Ask how he ended up here, where he was planning on going, if he really didn’t have anywhere he could go. But, you figured he probably didn’t want to answer a lot of questions right now. So, you instead made an offer.

“You can stay here for the night if you need to.”

He looked over to you, looking a bit confused, maybe surprised. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged.

Logan chuckled dryly. “You make a habit out of trusting strangers this much?”

“No.” You answered truthfully.

“No?” He repeated. “What’s so special about me?”

You swore he gave you a quick Look up and down. But, you told yourself you were seeing things. You told yourself you didn’t see his lips almost twitch into a smirk.

Instead of answering the question, you got up and straightened your clothes a bit. “Do you need anything?” You asked.

Logan leaned back a bit, clearing his throat. “Some warmer clothes would be nice.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh— Sure thing.”

You sort of left Logan alone for a while (other than giving him some of your dad’s old clothes and showing him the guest bedroom where he would sleep for the night). It was mostly because you didn’t want to admit that he’d flustered you earlier and you didn’t want to give him the opportunity to fluster you again.

But, alas, your hospitable nature got the better of you. The sun had gone down and the soft ambient noises of nature shifted from birds chirping to crickets.

You knocked on the door to the room Logan was in, holding a fluffy blanket.

“Yeah?” He called from inside the room.

“I’ve got something for you.”

A brief pause. “Come in.”

You entered and tried giving a small, polite smile to him.

“I worried you might be cold.” You said, holding up the blanket a bit as if he couldn’t clearly see it already. You walked over and set it on the bed next to him, still neatly folded up from when you grabbed it from the closet you kept all of the towels and blankets in.

“You don’t have to use it. I just figured I should bring it, y’know, just in case. Um—“ you shifted a bit awkwardly. “If you need anything else, my room is right down the hall. So, feel free to as-“

“Why’re you being so nice to me?” He asked, cutting you off.

You paused briefly, not knowing how you should answer that. When you finally did answer, it wasn’t really a proper reply to what he said. “What?”

“You’re being oddly sweet to a guy you only met today after he broke into your private property.” Logan said plainly. “Why? You’ve got every reason not to trust me, and yet, here you are, giving me extra blankets cause you’re worried I’ll get cold.”

Okay, well, when he put it like that, it made you sound like an idiot. Now you really didn’t know what to say. You just stood in silence for a moment before speaking again. “I don’t know.” That definitely wasn’t the kind of answer that was helpful at all. You continued. “You needed help. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Logan took a moment before shaking his head. “There aren’t many people in the world who do stuff like this without asking for something in return.”

You shrugged. “Well, maybe I’m one of the few that just wants to be nice.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment. He just looked at you. He looked at you like he was trying to figure you out, like if he looked hard enough he’d know if you were telling the truth. “You’re good.” He finally decides.

“Thanks?” You reply, the compliment catching you off guard a little bit.

“Too good. Guys like me don’t deserve to be treated nice by people like you.”

You shake your head. “I disagree.”

“Yeah, that’s cause you don’t know me.” Logan chuckles dryly, but you don’t laugh.

“I mean it. If I thought you were a bad guy, I would’ve called the police by now.”

He hummed. “Can’t argue with that.” He said. “Still, I wouldn’t consider myself a good person.”

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” You decide, giving Logan a small smile.

Logan chuckles softly. “You’re like an angel.”

Your face immediately begins to heat up and you turn away so he doesn’t see your flustered state. “Thanks, uh…. I’ll let you get your sleep now.” You try your best to sound casual as you walk to the door.

“Y/n.” Logan calls before you can shut the door behind you. You turn back to him and hope that the darkness of the hallway hides your flushed cheeks. “Thank you.” He says sincerely, his eyes not leaving yours for a second.

You take in a deep breath. “It’s not a problem.” A beat passes. “Goodnight.”

As you walk down the hall to your room, you find yourself silently hoping that Logan’s stay lasts a little longer than just tonight.

[mountttmase]

Brave - Part One

Note - bit nervous uploading this one and it’s pretty long so let me know what you think 💙 part two can be found here 😌

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 9.6k

Warnings - mention of controlling relationship, angst, lots and lots of fluff

You were sat in your dining room, dressed up to the nines, waiting for your husband to get home from work. If you were doing this then you were doing it properly, wanting this version of yourself to be his last memory of you.

You slightly adjusted the neck on your tight black midi dress that you’d paired with the highest heels you could find in the back of your wardrobe. You could feel a chill on your left leg as the high slit up the side left you exposed but you ignored it as you loved the way it looked. Both things he didn’t know you owned as he would never approve of.

You looked fit for a funeral but it gave you the confidence boost you needed to get the job done.

He should be home any minute and you were so incredibly nervous about what you were about to do. You’d rehearsed what you wanted to say in your head a million times for months and you don’t know what it was about the last few days that was the final straw.

Your engagement and wedding ring sat together on the table in front of you, feeling free of the weight of them not just physically but also mentally. You chanced a look down at them, gazing at them for one last time before snapping your eyes up and getting back into the right head space. You didn’t need any distractions, wanting nothing to throw you so you could get out what you needed to say without an issue.

Before you could think of anything else, you heard his key in the lock and the door slamming shut moments later. You watched as he entered the room, swinging his bag onto the sofa haphazardly before his eyes locked onto yours.

‘What’s all this?’ He questioned with his brows furrowed. He hasn’t seen you looking like this for a long time and the sight no doubt confused him. Most of your days spent bare faced and only in clothes he approved of bar the rare occasions you had to be seen with him for a business dinner or an event where only perfection would do. ‘Are we supposed to be going somewhere I forgot about? You know I don’t like it when you wear all that guff on your face without a reason’ he scoffed, taking up the seat opposite from you.

‘I’m leaving you’

You spoke quietly but you sounded confident, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. He let out a loud laugh but when he caught sight of your rings on the table he stopped and looked back up.

‘Oh, you’re serious’ he said, the smile on his face returning and it made your skin crawl. ‘Sure thing, babe’ he laughed again before going to stand, but the sound of you standing up from your chair kept him in is seat.

‘I’m serious. Don’t worry, in terms of the divorce I don’t want anything from you and I’ve only taken the things I bought with me.’

‘This is stupid’ he said with a shake of his head, his tone more serious now. ‘I’ll give it a week before you’re crawling back here begging for me back’ he snarled, an angry look on his face but you no longer felt afraid of him. ‘And it’s gonna take a lot more than an I’m sorry to win me back. You forget y/n, I’m all you have. You won’t last out there on your own.’

‘I’d rather have nothing than stay another second here’ you told him calmly, before stepping away from the table, picking up your coat and making your way you the door.

You didn’t turn back for one last look, you didn’t wait for him to convince you stay, you kept your head high, your shoulders back and your hand around the car key in your pocket before stepping out the front door and closing it softly behind you.

Wanting to get out of there as quickly as you could, you ran to the car you borrowed from your best friend that was parked enough spaces down that he didn’t notice, got in and drove away as quickly as you could. You felt the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes but you didn’t allow them to fall. Not just yet you told yourself and you made the 45 minute journey to your best friends house. They had no idea you were coming and you were praying they would accept you with open arms. As much as you hated to admit it, your now ex-husband was right, you really didn’t have many people in your life and he was the one that made sure of that. Isolating you from everyone so you became reliant on him. He knew you’d of left a lot quicker if you were surrounded by people that love you.

You knew your best friend would be in, having made sure to ask them a few days ago what their week looked like. Your ex had no idea the two of you still spoke and you had to save their name in your phone as a cleaning company as to not arouse any suspicion.

Before you knew it you were there, pulling up outside and punching in the code you had memorised. As soon as you were parked, you ran to the front door and pounded on it until it opened and you were met with the big brown eyes of Mason.

‘I did it’ you sobbed, his shocked face now looking confused. ‘I’ve left him’ you managed to choke out before you felt your legs start to buckle under you. Mason was quick to grab you and pull you into him before you fell. In the comfort of his arms is when you allowed yourself to break down. He gently rocked you back and forth as he shushed you and raked his fingers over your scalp.

‘Come on love, let’s get out inside and out the cold, yeah?’ He whispered and you nodded weakly, allowing him to pull you inside. After shutting the door with his hip, he slowly walked you over to his sofa where he sat beside you and pulled you back into him. You sobbed your little heart out whilst he held you as tightly as he could to his body. The only sounds coming from him were his little comments of encouragement, telling you that everything was okay and you were safe now.

And that was the main reason for your tears, more relief than sadness. Yes you were sad your relationship of five years and marriage of three was finally over, yet that was outweighed by the lightness you felt in your chest of never having to see him again and the feel of the strong and safe arms around you now.

You thought you were almost done crying but when Mason told you he was proud of you, you only sobbed harder.

You had known Mason most of your life, growing up together as your houses were opposite and there wasn’t anything you didn’t know about each other.

That was until you started dating Eric and you grew apart. He was a few years older than you and told you it was only natural but as the months went by and more and more people seemed to disappear from your life, until he was all that was left, you wondered if he was right. He convinced you though and told you he was all you needed. He even told you Mason was no good for you, that being around someone with his job could only end in disaster as he’d never have time for you. This was the one thing you never believed so kept your friendship with Mason away from Eric.

He was the perfect gentleman at first, buying you gifts and taking you on trips. You loved being around him as he made you feel like a princess. He told you it was you and him against the world and he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

When he proposed you said yes straight away and had a small wedding, just the two of you and some whitenesses. You knew you had hurt Mason by not inviting him as you’d always promised to be there for each other in the big moments. He had called you the day after and the sound of his broken voice made you feel more guilty than you ever had before, but you knew he couldn’t be there. Eric still thought the two of you were no longer in contact.

You hated having to hide Mason from your life, only seeing each other when Eric was at work or on a business trip but Eric really did make you happy.

Well at first he did anyway.

That was until he began telling you how you should wear your hair, how you should dress, where you could and couldn’t go, what you should eat, how you should think. You should have known when he told you to quit your job as he made enough money for the both of you but you did it anyway, not wanting to hurt him. Then three months ago you found out about the multiple other woman he’d been sleeping with since you’d been married. You’d been planning since then to escape, telling Mason you needed to borrow his car for an appointment as Eric would be taking his car to work and since Mason had a few, he was happy to oblige.

That one small kind gesture now meant you were free. Free from a life of being controlled and suppressed by a man who thought he knew what was best for you.

You finally looked up at Mason, furiously blinking your eyes in order to clear the tears from them, and Mason gently wiped under them with his thumbs, smiling at you so widely you though his face might break in half.

‘I mean it y/n I’m so fucking proud of you’ he told you again with a light kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m not gonna pretend like I knew exactly what was happening between the two of you but I never liked him and I think you know that.’ You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at this, nodding your head. ‘He made you not you, and I want you back’ he said with a sad smile.

‘I’m back’ you croaked and kissed your forehead again.

‘I need to ask you something’ he said with a more serious tone and you gulped before he continued. ‘You don’t have to tell me what happed, not if you don’t want to or if you do we can wait until you’re ready to talk but I need to know one thing and I need to you be honest with me okay?’ You just nodded and he took a breath before speaking. ‘Did he ever hurt you? You know like… physically?’

You understood why he asked the question, and it pained you to see the look on his face as he did, but you shook your head quickly to settle his mind. Eric was a lot of things but he’d never laid a hand on you. Mason let out a massive breath and just nodded, feeling better now he knew. You looked down to his top, noticing to two black marks from your mascara staining it and it stupidly tried to wipe it off. ‘Sorry Mase’

‘Don’t be silly, I know how to the use the washing machine now’ he proudly boasted and you shook your head at his silliness.

‘So I kind of need to ask another favour’ you gulped. You knew it would probably be fine with what you were about to ask but you wanted to make sure anyway. He just nodded a waited for you to carry on. ‘I don’t really have anywhere else to go, and it won’t be for long I’ll sort myself out but can I stay with you for a bit?’ He looked back at you like you were asking the most obvious thing in the world before taking your hands in his.

‘Do you even need to ask that?’ He chucked you you tried to hide you face in his sofa cushion. ‘Of course you can stay here, I’ve always told you that.’ And it was true, mason always reassured you that his home was yours if you ever needed it and now you felt stupid for asking. ‘And none of this it won’t be for long crap, you stay here as long as you like. You know I love having you around. In fact I don’t want you out of my sight for the foreseeable.’

‘Thank you’ you whispered and he just squeezed your hands in response.

‘Now what do you say, you grab a quick shower and I’ll order us some dinner and then we have a movie night like we used to when we’re we’re kids?’ He suggested

‘That sounds great, I’ll just go grab my stuff from the car’ you told him whilst standing, but he followed you up and grabbed your arm.

‘Don’t be silly, I can get that’ he told you, helping you out of your coat. You couldn’t help but blush as you noticed his eyes linger over you in your tight dress, forgetting you were dressed up for a night out rather then a comfy evening in, and it took you looking directly at him for him to avert his gaze. ‘Y-you remember where the bathroom is right?’ He stuttered and you smiled at his now awkward demeanour.

‘I remember, Mason’ you said with a slight smile

‘I’ll leave your stuff in the guest room yeah? Take your time there’s towels and everything you need in there’

‘Thank you, Mase’ you whispered. Stepping towards him and kissing his cheek before turning on your heel to walk up his stairs. You knew he hadn’t moved yet, clearly watching you walk up and you were wondering what had come over him all of a sudden but the thought of being under the warm water kept your legs moving.

After a quick shower, making sure to wash off your ruined makeup, you wrapped yourself in one of masons big fluffy towels before making your way to his guest room. You were just about to open the door when it swung open to reveal mason who was obviously just leaving.

‘Shit, sorry’ he laughed, a blush covering his cheeks as he looked at you in your towel. ‘I uh, I just put all your stuff in there. Was that everything?’ He asked pointing back to your one suitcase and lone duffel bag.

‘Yeah that’s it’ you confirmed, and he scrunched his face up up for a second before nodding.

‘Well the food will be here soon, so get ready and I’ll come get you’ he said, moving out the room and plodding back downstairs. You unpacked some pyjamas, a silky shirt and shorts combo that you hadn’t been able to wear yet, but given your new found freedom you thought it was appropriate. You carried on unpacking your things, not that it was much. A few pairs of jeans and leggings plus some tops and a few pairs of shoes. All things you’d bought yourself, leaving anything that was bought with Eric’s money back in his house. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door and Mason popped his head through after you told him to come in.

‘Foods here’ he said quietly. ‘I thought maybe we could eat in my room? Like old times’ he asked you and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he might be nervous.

‘Sounds good, I’ll be in in a sec’ you told him with a smile and he gave you one nod before leaving again.

After popping your underwear in a drawer you made your way over to his room. The lights had been dimmed and you could see he’d lit a candle on the far side of the room. He was sat on his bed, back resting against the headboard and next to him lay two massive pizzas.

‘I’m not sure that’s part of your diet plan Mount’ you told him as you took a seat next to him. He laughed at you and shrugged whilst picking up a slice.

‘I figured it was a special occasion’ he winked and you couldn’t ignore the little flip in your tummy at his gesture. ‘I ordered your favourite’

You looked down to see your favourite pizza and you couldn’t help but smile that he remembered. You hadn’t had it in the longest time and you groaned in satisfaction when you took your first bite, closing your eyes to savour the moment.

Your eyes snapped over to Mason as you hadn’t heard him move and you caught him staring at you with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, but he looked away just as quickly, his eyes focusing on the movie. You were unsure of what to make of all the strange looks he was giving you, figuring he felt a bit sorry for you and was just checking to make sure you were okay, but you both carried on eating in silence. When you’d had enough Mason quickly ran downstairs to put the pizza in the fridge before joining you back in his bed.

It felt weird for you to be sat so far away from him, movie nights used to consist of him laying with his head in your lap or at least your arms being linked however mason sat away from you, no doubt wanting to give you space after a stressful day however that was the last thing you wanted.

‘Masey?’ You asked and he smiled at the use of his nickname you only bought out when you wanted something. ‘Do you maybe think I could have a cuddle?’ You questioned, and his face softened immediately, scooting down the bed and opening up his arms for you to fall in to.

‘You don’t need to ask love’ he whispered into you temple before leaving a light kiss there that warmed your insides. ‘And if you wanna talk about anything then im all ears. And if you don’t then I’m pretty good at talking shit and distracting you’ he joked but you really appreciated it. ‘Whatever you wanna do we can do’

There was lots you wanted to tell him, but unsure of if you were ready for all that just yet you told him something that had been playing on your mind for the last half an hour or so.

‘What if I’m not strong enough?’ You whispered but you knew he’d heard you, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well I’m fine right now, I think I’m still on a bit of a high, but what about in a few days time when I crash back down to earth? What if I end up running back to him? what if he calls and I’m not strong enough to ignore it?’

‘That could never happen’ he reassured you, stroking up and down your back gently. ‘You’ve got me now, I mean you always have had, but I’m gonna be here for you all the time and we can do this together I promise. You’re not on your own anymore’. You knew he wasn’t done talking, the words on the tip of his tongue so you waited until he was ready. ‘You don’t have to answer if you’re not ready, but why did you stay with him so long if you were so unhappy?’

You gave it a second to think of an answer, but you didn’t exactly have one. It was a whole multitude of things. ‘I guess I just wanted to believe he was still a good person? Like even after everything he’s done I still hoped things would change’

You went on to tell him where it all went wrong, the lying, his controlling nature, the cheating you uncovered towards the end. Mason was silent throughout, letting you talk and unload everything you needed to, but you could tell by the look on his face he was beyond angry.

‘Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was?’ He questioned.

‘I don’t know Mase, I wish I had I’m so sorry’

‘Hey hey, none of this is your fault’ he comforted you, rubbing his hands over you gently. ‘I’m so fucking proud of you, and I’m so glad you came to me. I promise you I won’t let anything bad happen anymore okay you’re safe with me’

‘You promise’ you asked with a smile, holding up your pinkie finger to which he wrapped his own around.

‘I promise. No one goes near my girl without my say so’

‘Your girl?’

‘My girl’ he reiterated, holding you tightly against him.

You closed your eyes at his words, too overcome with emotion to say anything so you just nestled further into his neck and after 15 minutes or so, you could feel yourself getting sleepy. Mason must of felt it too, leaning back slightly to look at you.

‘You want me to take you to your room?’ He whispered but you just shook your head, the need to be with him and feel safe taking over the sensible part of your brain.

‘No, can I stay here with you tonight?’ You asked quietly, and he nodded, settling down more as he held you. ‘Promise you’ll still be here when I wake up?’ You murmured and you felt his body shake and he let out a small laugh.

‘I promise’ he replied before kissing your cheek. ‘Goodnight y/n’

You kissed his collarbone, the only bit of skin of his you could reach with your lips before settling back down again.

‘Night Mase, and thank you’

—————————

True to his word Mason was still there when you woke up the next morning, and the one after that, and the one after that also. In fact you hadn’t spent one night in his guest room, opting to be with him in his bed, reminiscing about the old days until you fell asleep in each others arms.

You were right about one thing though, and as the days went on things got harder and harder and you could feel yourself becoming more broken. But Mason was always there to pick you up and fix you back together, never making you feel like a burden and very slowly you could feel yourself coming back out of your shell. So much so in fact that after three weeks, you were ready to take the next step to being you again.

When Mason came home from training, he found you in the kitchen. He found you in here most days, usually making him dinner but today you were sat at the island, head burrowed into his laptop he said you could borrow. He came over to drop a kiss on your head, just like always, and wrapped his arm around your shoulders to have a nose at what you were doing.

‘Hey love, what’s all this?’

‘I’m looking for a job’ you told him with a smile, looking up into his big brown eyes as he smiled back down at you. You felt him squeeze your shoulders that tiny bit tighter before taking up the stool next to you.

‘You found anything yet?’

‘I’m not sure, I kinda wanna ease myself back in slowly but I’m not sure how to explain why I was out for the last year year and a half’. You mused whilst biting your lip in concentration. The next thing you felt was Masons thumb pulling on your lip, freeing it from in between your teeth, and you both looked at each other with wide eyes and your heart began to race.

This seemed to be happening a lot lately. Maybe it was the fact everything seemed so domestic between you both, sleeping in the same bed, waking up in his arms every morning, making him dinner for when he got home and spending nights cuddling on his sofa as you talked through all your problems, but your feelings for Mason seemed to be shifting.

You knew the ladies loved him, and you’d always thought he was handsome but he was your best friend so feeling about him in any other way wasn’t allowed, but he was making that task increasingly difficult. You caught yourself looking at his lips and wondering what they would feel like on yours or what his hands felt like on other parts of you. It had been so long since someone had touched you in that way and your head was swimming with thoughts of him.

‘Why don’t you say you worked for me?’ He shrugged, defusing the tension a bit.

‘Doing what?’

‘I dunno, whatever fits the job you’re applying for I guess. I promise I’ll give you a glowing reference’ he winked and you smiled at him shyly. ‘Just don’t go rushing into anything, you’ve got time to think about it’

‘I know, but I need to start being a bit more independent Mase, I can’t stay here forever’

‘Why not’ he pouted, your heart racing at the thought of him wanting you around.

‘You don’t want me here all the time, living rent free and cramping your style. What if you wanna bring a date back or something? I don’t wanna be in the way’

‘You could never be in the way’ he assured you with a hand on your shoulder before he walked over to the fridge to get a drink. Not that you had seen Mason with another girl since you moved in, in fact he hadn’t even mentioned one but the thought of seeing him with someone else was enough to make your blood boil so you changed the subject to what was for dinner and you both fell back into your comfortable routine.

That was until later on that evening. You noticed he was on his phone a lot, texting someone with a permanent grin on his face every time your back was turned. You were curious as to who it was and your mind went straight to the worst case scenario and figured it must be girl, only confirmed when you joined him on the sofa after your shower and he quickly hid his phone as soon as you walked in.

You tried to will the sinking feeling away, wondering to yourself why you even felt like this in the first place. Mason wasn’t yours to be jealous over, but he must of sensed something was up as he gave you a funny look when you sat down next to him but left a gap between you. He didn’t say anything, just laid down and put his head in your lap, waiting for you to play with his hair. When you didn’t move he looked up at you with sad eyes. You melted a bit inside and moved your hand to run your fingers through his hair. The content hum that came from him only spurring you on even more, cursing yourself that you were wrapped around his finger.

When you felt yourself getting tired, you told Mason you were going to head upstairs and he rubbed his eyes before sitting up and stretching.

‘Okay, I’ll meet you up there in a sec’ he told you, but your own insecurities were getting the better of you it seemed, words spilling from your mouth before you had time to think about them.

‘Oh um, actually I think maybe it’s best if I sleep in the guest room tonight’ you told him whilst sitting up, he turned to look at you with a hurt and confused expression.

���What? Why?’

‘No reason I just um…’ your mind was racing for an excuse but you couldn’t come up with one and there was no way you were telling him the truth.

‘Have I done something wrong?’ He questioned and you started to feel like the worst person in the world. ‘I feel like you’ve been off with me tonight. If I’m being too much and you want some space you can tell me’ he said, standing up and stopping right in front of you. Your eyes filled with tears at this, he was always putting you first and you were in a mood with him over nothing but your own confused feelings.

‘No Mase it’s not that’ you gulped out, and he took your face in his hands, brushing away the few stray tears as he looked at you concerned. ‘I’m just having one of those days’ you breathed and he nodded at you sympathetically.

‘Well, if you change your mind you know where I’ll be’ he said quietly, and with a kiss to your forehead he was walking passed you and up his stairs.

You followed him up a few minutes after, walking into his guest room to change, but you no longer wanted to be in there on your own so you put on your brave face and went over to Masons room.

It was dark inside and Mason was already under the covers, his back facing away from you. You slipped into bed quietly, pressing yourself up against his back and wrapping your arm around his waist. You felt his whole body relax into you as he threaded his fingers through yours and hugged them to his chest. Hoping he couldn’t feel your racing heart against his back but if he could he didn’t say anything.

‘Night baby’ he whispered and you heart hammered even harder at the pet name, one he’d never called you before. Too overwhelmed to think of what to say back, you kissed him on the shoulder in response before you both drifted off to sleep.

————————————

Three days later and Mason was grinning like an idiot when he got home, and you were immediately suspicious about his mood. You were stood stirring a pot on the stove as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

‘How do you fancy a night off from cooking at the weekend?’ He asked you with a smile and he must of picked up on the confused expression on your face as you turned to him. ‘I was thinking a night out might do you good? I’ve kind of been planning dinner with Dec and Lauren to ease you into it. What do you think?’

‘Oh… um’

‘Pleaseeeeee’ he moaned, swaying you from side, pleased with himself when he heard you laughing.

‘I haven’t got anything to wear’ you told him with a pout as he let you go to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

‘Well, why don’t we have a look after dinner? We can order you something?’

‘No Mase-‘ you tried to protest but he already had his phone out googling suggestions for you.

‘Or I could ask Carlotta to bring something round?’ He told you with his eyebrow raised, knowing you would never go for it and therefore make you pick something he could buy you. You just huffed and rolled your eyes at him, knowing you were never going to win this argument.

After dinner, he showed you all the things he thought ‘would look great on you’ and you finally decided on a short black velvet dress with sheer sleeves. The sleeves were long but it was tight and short enough to show your legs off which mason seemed excited by. You told him you already had shoes and other bits but he shushed you away, fiddling about on his phone for another 20 minutes or so and claiming he was looking for himself, before he ordered it.

When the night of the dinner came you were nervous, having not seen Dec or Lauren in years but Mason claimed they were excited to see you.

The dress had arrived the day before and you were happy with the fit of it and as you stood looking in the mirror at your reflection, you were happy with how you looked. You were digging through your small jewellery bag, looking for a specific necklace when you heard a knock on the door just as you picked it up. You told mason to come in.

He stepped around the door, he eyes wide as he took you in and yours were the same as you caught sight of him through the mirror, dressed in smart black trousers, a white t shirt and a black checkered over shirt. He looked really good and you had to look down before you started blushing too hard. You were so caught up in how good he looked you didn’t notice him place something down onto the guest bed.

‘I know it doesn’t match, but do you think you could put this on for me?’ You asked him quietly, handing over the necklace that he recognised instantly.

‘You still have this?’ He asked as you turned to face away from him. It was a small blue sapphire teardrop necklace he’d bought you for your 18th birthday. He got it for you as it was Chelsea blue but you hadnt worn it in years as Eric didn’t like it.

‘Of course, it’s my favourite one I own’ you smiled at him through the mirror as he focused on doing the clasp up, his breath tickling down your neck making you shudder. Once he was done he pressed a light kiss over the chain before turning you to face him.

‘I know you’re gonna tell me off for this but I wasn’t sure if you needed one’ he started and your eyes followed to wear he was reaching, catching sight of the bag that matched your dress. ‘Please don’t be upset with me’ he laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh back, placing a kiss on his cheek as you thanked him. Truth be told you did need a bag so you werent gonna be too hard on him. Once you’d transferred everything you needed into your new bag, you followed Mason into the waiting taxi downstairs, him keeping hold of your hand the whole way as you sat next to him in the middle seat.

‘You look beautiful, by the way’ he whispered in your ear as the car was pulling up to the pavement. You dropped your head in embarrassment, it having been a while since you’d heard those words and coming from Mason they meant even more. You didn’t have time to think or say anything back as he was tugging you from the car immediately after.

You were being led over to your table when he threaded his fingers through yours and kept you close to him as he knew you were nervous, but the big smile on Lauren’s face settled you instantly. She pulled you into a hug and you willed the tears to stay in your eyes, feeling better than you had all day now the hard part was out the way. After another big hug with Dec, you took your seat next to Mason, his hand finding home on your thigh and you smiled at him briefly, letting him know it was okay, before joining in the conversation.

Dinner was great, it felt so good to be around other people and be normal, but you felt even better knowing Mason was next to you. You felt so good in fact that when Dec mentioned a few of the London based England lads were in a bar that wasn’t too far away, you didn’t hesitate to say yes to joining them.

‘You sure?’ Mason questioned with a curious look on his face. ‘We don’t have too’

‘No Mase, I want to’ you nodded at him with a smile and he smiled back just as brightly before pressing a kiss you your cheek. Mason missed the look Dec gave him but you certainly didn’t and you made sure to remember to ask him about it later on.

You were led to a private part of the bar and after meeting a few new people and being glued to Masons side for an hour, Lauren convinced you to go with her and hang out with just the girls. Mason gave you a look to silently ask if you were sure but you gave his hand a squeeze to reassure him before joining the girls table.

You drunk until you thought it was a good idea to dance, feeling more carefree than you could remember and even without Mason by your side you still felt safe, a feeling you knew you would have to get used to. Once you and Lauren felt tired, you went in search of the boys, finding Mason perched on the arm of one of the sofas. His face lit up immediately at the sight of you and you could tell he was drunk from the way he swayed when he held his arms out for you to step into, turning away from everyone else so you could have a private moment.

‘Hey pretty girl’ he murmured into your neck, kissing it softly and you could of sworn you felt him chuckle at the way your body shivered when he touched you. ‘I’ve missed you’

‘I missed you too, Mase’ you replied and you pulled back to look into his bleary eyes. Even drunk he was still perfect to you, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose flushed and his lips looked even more pouty and kissable than usual. The smile he was giving you at your words was making your knees weak so you grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself whilst he held you at your waist.

‘We’ll go in a sec yeah?’ He winked, ‘I think it’s way past our bedtime’ and you nodded in response. Although you had enjoyed tonight, you were ready to be back in your pyjamas and in Masons arms.

He excused himself to sort an Uber for the two of you, and in his absence you managed to catch Dec alone. He smiled, putting his arm around you and went to speak, but you managed to get in there first.

‘Dec? I saw the way you were looking at me and Mase at dinner’ you told him and it only made his smile grow bigger. ‘What was that all about?’

‘Look y/n I’m not gonna pretend that I know what’s gone on the past few years, but I know it’s not been good’ he started, giving you a sympathetic look, but he moved the conversation on quickly. ‘But I also know my best mate, and I know when he likes someone’ he paused to see if you’d caught on it he wasn’t entirely sure. ‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way you are with each other and I’ve never seen anything like it. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about him as more than a friend?’

You knew you were blushing, of course you’d thought about him like that. Who hadn’t? It was the thought of him looking at you in that way that was confusing. Your confidence had been on the floor for the longest time, and whilst you were working on it, you found it hard to imagine Mason liking you in that way.

‘Look, you didn’t hear it from me’ he chuckled, quietly grabbing your attention back from your thoughts ‘but he worships the ground you walk on. That night you first showed up at his house? He called me and was ready to commit murder for you. I know it may seem a bit scary, but life’s about taking risks yeah? You wouldn’t be here out with us tonight if you hadn’t been brave’

You agreed with him, giving him a hug just as Mason appeared. You said your goodbyes and made it outside just in time to get in the car. Once back at his, you both helped each other stumble inside and up to his room. You’d taken your makeup off in the bathroom and returned to find him starfished on his bed, clad only in his boxers. You took a few minutes to take him in, thinking you’d never seen anyone more beautiful than him.

As if he could sense you, he sat up and beckoned you over, sitting you on his lap before unclasping your necklace and popping it on the table by your side. You could feel him start to press feather light kisses on your neck, the alcohol clearly giving him courage as he gripped your waist tightly. You figured it was time to be brave just like Declan told you to be.

‘Mase?’ You questioned, almost breathlessly. He hummed to let you know he was listening but he didn’t take his focus off the back of your neck. ‘Do you think you could unzip me?’

You felt him let out a breath before his hands moved to gently unzip your dress, you could tell how careful he was being with you and your heart gave a squeeze. You shivered as he ran his fingertips up your back and dipped them under the shoulders of you dress, pushing it off you so it fell forward leaving you sat with just your bra on top. Mason was too busy leaving open mouthed kisses on your shoulders to notice you quickly unhook it, but once he had, he moved his lips all over your back, pulling a quiet moan from you which made him grin into your skin.

‘Mason’ you scolded him gently and attempted to move off of him, but he firmly held you in place.

‘Shhhhh, just let me love on you a bit’ he murmured, still pressing kisses onto you, setting your skin on fire. You let him carry on, enjoying the way his lips felt against your hot skin. You thought you’d be more self conscious, sat with your naked back to him, your chest uncovered out of his sight but he never made a move to touch you there or make you uncomfortable.

It had been so long since you’d been intimate like this with someone. Sex with Eric had dried up months before you’d left, and even before that you’d never really enjoyed it so to be in the palm of masons hand like this felt a bit foreign, but you were also enjoying every second of it. Before you could get too caught up in the moment, you jumped up from his lap. Not wanting to push things too far.

You let your dress and bra fall to the floor once you had untangled your arms from the sleeves, leaving you in just your lacy black underwear, giving Mason a cheeky view of you bum as you made your way over to where he had slung the T-shirt he wore that night. You picked it up and put it on, your back still turned to him and only when you were covered did you face him. It was the first time you’d worn anything of his and you felt your tummy flip as his smell overtook you.

His eyes were dark and there was an obvious tent in his boxers but you suddenly started to feel like a deer in headlights. His gaze made you freeze and he must of sensed something was wrong because his face softened and he slowly walked towards you to grab your hand before tucking you into bed. He got in besides you and you both turned to face each other, his eyes looking at you full of love.

‘As gorgeous as you looked tonight, I love seeing you like this’ he told you quietly, moving closer to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. His fingers dipping just below his shirt so he could feel the skin on your back. You could smell the alcohol on him and he was clearly still quite drunk but you were enjoying his compliments. ‘I wanna kiss you so bad’ he suddenly admitted, speaking quietly into you temple. You felt yourself freeze again and when you didn’t say anything he shuffled down to look into your eyes.

‘It’s probably just the alcohol talking Mase’ you joked but he was looking at you seriously.

‘No it’s not. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was 17, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t been drunk since then’ he argued you couldn’t help but let out a giggle before he buried his head in your neck. ‘Don’t laugh, it’s true’ he teased ‘do you know how hard it’s been for me? To see you with that prick for years when I know you should have been mine? But you’re my best friend and I was trying to be supportive. And then you turn up here looking hot as hell and you’re sleeping next to me every night in those fucking silky pyjamas that drive me insane. like do you know how difficult it’s been?’ He whined but you could tell there was a layer of humour underneath. ‘I don’t want to overstep the mark cause I know you’re not ready for any of that but fuck, you’re on my mind 24/7’ You grabbed of hold of his face and forced him to look at you.

‘It’s been difficult for me too’ you whispered ‘it may of took me a littler longer to realise it, but I really wanna kiss you too’ you admitted and you felt him lean in almost straight away. You quickly placed a finger to his lips and he groaned audibly to which you laughed. ‘We’re still both really drunk Mase. If you still feel like kissing me tomorrow when we’re both sober, I think that might be okay’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah’ you nodded, and he was quick to settle back onto the pillow.

‘Let’s get some sleep then, so the morning comes quicker’ he told you, like a kid on Christmas, and you couldn’t help but place a kiss on his forehead.

‘I’m not great at saying it, but you know I love you, don’t you Mase?’ And he held you that little bit tighter, nodding into your neck.

‘I love you too’ he murmured

————————————

The next morning you woke up to Mason spooning you, his soft snores right by your ear and whilst you would have found it annoying if it were anyone else, you couldn’t get over how cute he was. You stayed there, revelling in his warmth for another half an hour or so until you felt him start to shift, pulling you impossibly closer. He groaned as if he was in pain, but you could help but laugh as you knew it was just because he was hungover. He groaned even louder at this and nestled into your neck.

‘Morning, baby’ he murmured, your heart thumping at the use of that name again. You turned in his arms to find him still with his eyes shut, but his brows pinched together in discomfort.

‘Morning, Mase. You feeling alright?’

‘I think my brain melted out of my head in the night’ he told you quietly, opening one eye to look at you and his face softened immediately. ‘You okay?’

‘My heads a bit fuzzy, but I’m fine. How about I make you some breakfast? You’ll feel loads better after you’ve eaten’ You told him before detaching yourself from his grip. He was in too much of a state to keep you there, so he let you go.

You were almost done cooking when you saw Mason enter the kitchen, now dressed in a pair of grey shorts but his bare torso was still on show. You had to tell yourself to look away and concentrate. He flopped himself down on the kitchen island, and you placed some painkillers in front him with a glass of orange juice. You left him to take them whilst you dished up his breakfast, but he grabbed your wrist before you could walk off when you set his plate down.

‘Where’s yours?’ He pouted and you rolled your eyes at his neediness.

‘I’m just getting it you big baby’ you told him, and he nodded at you with a shy look on his face. You ate mostly in silence, his eyes glazing at you every so often but you were enjoying the peace, slowly starting to feel more alive with each passing second.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, he placed a kiss to your forehead as he stood, grabbing his and your empty plates to take them over to the sink.

‘You go sit and find us something to watch, I’ll clean up’ he told you, and you quickly nipped upstairs to pop on a pair of leggings, feeling a bit exposed parading around in just his shirt, before finding a film for the two of you to watch. He was soon to join you, now with a hoodie on, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. ‘Thank you for looking after me, sorry I’m such a wimp’ he murmured but you looked up at him with a reassuring smile.

‘Don’t be silly, you’re not a wimp. Are you feeling any better?’

‘Lots’ he smiled and gave you a light kiss on the forehead before you both settled down to watch tv. You were fine for the first five minutes but thoughts started niggling away at you soon after, thinking back to last nights conversation. Clearly it really was the alcohol talking as he’d made no mention of the kiss and you felt disheartened, only thankful for the fact he’d clearly forgotten so you didn’t make too much of a fool out of yourself. Unless he did remember but he wasn’t saying anything out of pure embarrassment. But you were a bit upset to say the least, his words last night had filled you with hope and now your confidence was back on the floor. You contemplated asking him if he remembered anything from the night before but you held your tongue.

Mason fidgeted the whole way through the movie which you put down to his hangover. It was starting to annoy you though so you shuffled away from him a little bit so you you lie down with your head facing away from him. He seemed to take offence to this though, muttering a soft hey, and huffing like a child.

‘What you doing over there?’ He pouted but you Just shrugged, not wanting him to know the reason you were upset. He looked at you with a scowl before moving to lay down in front of you, his head on the pillow blocking your view of the tv, his eyes searching yours as he gently brushed the hair off your face. Your faces were close, his nose almost brushing yours and you had to swallow a nervous lump. ‘Y/n?’ He questioned and you met his soft eyes, a barely their smile on his lips as he prepared himself to speak again. ‘Do you think I could have that kiss now?’ He asked quietly and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling too wide.

‘You remembered?’ You whispered and he nodded his head gently, a blush taking over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose in the way you adored.

‘Of course’ he breathed his eyes dancing over your face as if to make sure you you were still on board. ‘Was just a bit too nervous to ask that’s all’ he admitted and you could feel your heart beating wildly out of your chest. ‘Sit up for me yeah?’ He asked and you returned to your previous position, sat next to him but your legs now draped over his thigh. He cupped your jaw gently and unsure with what to do with your hands, you rested then on his chest as you both tried to relax a bit.

He started off by pressing a few kisses on your cheek, checking with you that you were okay before moving closer to your mouth. With one last look into your eyes, he closed the space between you and planted his lips on yours.

You were quite certain you’d never felt like this whilst being kissed before, your breath knocked out of you almost instantly as he claimed you as his own. He was so gentle with you yet harsh at the same time, your lips moving in sync as your hands moved to around his neck to make sure he didn’t part from you. You could hear your heart beating in your ears as the kiss got heavier and when he slipped his tongue inside your mouth, you let out an audible moan which made him smile against your lips. You both pulled back to catch your breath, Mason cursing under his breath before you both let out a little laugh.

‘Why the fuck have we not done that sooner’ he laughed before pressing another quick kiss to your lips. ‘God, I can’t stop’ he joked, pressing more kisses all over your face until he made it back to your lips, pulling you in closer and tilting your face so he could get a better angle and kiss you even deeper.

You could have stayed there for hours kissing Mason, his lips felt amazing against yours and your whole body felt as light as air. He let go of one side of your face, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer against him. You didn’t mind, wanting to be as close to him a possible right now. He pulled away again and you pouted at the loss of contact, but the serious look on his face made your heart race.

He lent forward, resting his forehead on yours and closed his eyes, a tiny smirk on his lips.

‘I’m so in love with you’ he admitted with a quiet voice and you felt your soul almost leap from your body at his confession. Sure you told each other ‘I love you’ all the time, that’s what best friends do. But in love? That was new.

‘Mase, I-‘

He cut you off with a finger to your lips, stopping whatever you were about to say. You both pulled back so he could look you in your eyes properly.

‘Just let me finish yeah? I need to get this out before I get too nervous again’ he told you with a small laugh so you let him carry on, curious to what else he had to say. ‘I’m not expecting you to feel the same, not yet anyway. I know you’ve gone through some really hard years and it’s gonna take a lot to trust someone again, but I really wanna be that guy’ he told you sincerely, cupping your face again and you leant your face further into his hand. ‘I’m not perfect, and things between us can’t always be but you’re all I’ve ever wanted, y/n. I’d do absolutely anything for you and I think I’ve proved I’m capable of looking after you and being what you need. I just don’t want this to ever stop’ he admitted and you felt the tears spill from your eyes. He was quick to wipe them away and place a gentle kiss on the end oh your nose. ‘I’m not saying we need to dive right into anything straight away, but when you’re ready to let someone back in, I’ll be waiting for you yeah? We can go at your own pace but you know me. You can trust me, I’ll prove it’

‘You don’t have to prove anything to me, Mase’ you told him with a smile and he let out a tiny laugh.

‘Well I’ll do whatever makes you comfortable’ he murmured but you were lost for words. No one had even spoken to you in this way before and you almost didn’t feel worthy of his affections. ‘Or if you don’t feel the same way, we can just forget I said anything and carry on like normal’

‘Mase’ you groaned with a laugh, burring your head into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

‘I know it’s scary, but please tell me how you’re feeling’ he whispered. He sounded so vulnerable in that moment, and you took Decs advice again, wanting to be brave and make sure the man you loved knew how you felt.

‘You’re really bloody oblivious sometimes Mase, it’s always been you’ you told him, coming to terms with that yourself but it was true. ‘I’m in love with you too’ you whispered, and you felt his whole body relax, moving back so you could look into his glazed over eyes. ‘Have been for a long time, just didn’t know how to tell you’ you let out a sob at the end, Mason holding you tighter, shushing you and kissing your cheek.

‘It’s okay, the scary parts out the way now’ he chuckled and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

‘I could never repay you for everything you’ve done for me. You picked me up when I was at my lowest and helped put me back together again. I know I’m not all the way there, but I really want to try and be what you need too Mason’

He shook his head at your words, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. ‘You’re already what I need, baby. And we’ve got the rest of our lives to work all out the other stuff’ you could only nod at him, too overcome with emotion to form a sentence. ‘Love you’ he whispered, bumping his nose against yours before kissing you again.

‘Love you too’

Thank you so much for reading 😌 I'd really like some feedback so please feel free to drop me an ask or whatever you feel comfortable doing, I'd really love to hear from you 🩷

[idle-daydreams]

HEHEHE what a about possessive yandere starters. "Where do you think you're going dressed like that? Your body is for my eyes only" Dazai or Chuuya! Or Fyodor It's up to you! Thank you for taking my request I love your works!😌✨✨

I chose Fyodor because this prompt seems to fit him best. I hope its okay :)

Tw: Yandere, mentions of sexual assault and stalking, controlling behaviour

“Where do you think you're going dressed like that?”

You froze, hand still upon the doorknob. “Fyodor,” you said, stomach clenching. “I... was just going to the store for some stuff.”

Fyodor stepped out from the shadows of the living-room, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door frame. “Your body is for my eyes only,” he said in his flat voice. “Have you forgotten that, my love?”

Your stomach dipped again, almost painfully, and you took a deep breath to calm yourself. Fyodor was extremely caring, but his concern could be overbearing at times. “I know that,” you said. “But, I mean, I’m not dressed inappropriately.”

“Are you not?”

You looked away. At one time, you wouldn’t have given the black sweatshirt and leggings you were wearing a second thought, but ever since the accident you’d started to second-guess anything even remotely form-fitting. So your clothes tonight had been an active choice. “No,” you said defensively. “Lots of girls dress like this.”

“At home. Not when they go out alone after dark.”

“It’s fine,” you said, somewhat exasperated. “It’s still light out, and the store is like, ten minutes away.”

“But that outfit leaves too much to the imagination.”

“Its leggings and sweatshirt, not a string bikini,” you snapped.

Fyodor pursed his lips. Immediately, a stab of guilt ran through you. “I-I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “I just - Fyodor, I don’t like it when you tell me what to do. I’ve always worn these kinds of clothes, and it’s been fine.”

“Has it?” Fyodor moved towards you, eyes hooded in the dim light of the hallway. You stopped yourself from instinctively pulling back, reminding yourself that it was only your boyfriend. Fyodor brushed his cold fingers down your cheek, and an uncomfortable flush ran across your skin nevertheless.

“Tell me, which one of us gets catcalled when they go outside, my little dove?” he said. “Which one of us had a stalker following them around? Who got assaulted right around the time we first met?”

“That was different,” you stammered, wishing he could pull away as he leaned in even closer. He was tall and thin, barely there at times; yet at times like these he could be overpowering. “It was late at night then, and I - I should have been more careful, but-”

“But this time it is different, yes? Because it is ‘still light out’? Because it happened that way the other time, so it cannot possibly happen now?”

You jerked as he ran his fingers along the insides of your thighs, quickly and violently. “Fyodor!” you exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” He quickly flipped you over, pressing himself against your body until you could feel his manhood against your ass. Before you could react more than a startled gasp he stepped away, leaving you stumbling.

“I tell you what to do because you aren’t smart enough to be left on your own,” he said flatly. “What I did could be done by anyone, anywhere, at any time. Even at a nearly-empty convenience store while its still light out.”

“It won’t happen again,” you said, shaken by Fyodor’s callousness. “That guy is dead.”

“Yes, it is fortunate that he walked off a bridge and drowned after driving you into a breakdown.”

“I didn’t have a breakdown!”

“Really? You call that night you spent crying in my bed something else, then?” He grasped your chin in a pale hand, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Is it worth it, [Y/N]?” he asked softly. “Is it worth all of it just to defy me? The months of paranoia, having to abandon your job, your boyfriend, your life - will all of it be worth it just to wear an outfit? Because if you like the attention that much, as to twist my concern into something else, then I certainly will not help you should there be any consequences.”

Tears filled your eyes as you struggled to form an answer. You’d thought you were getting better, moving past the assault and the hellish nightmare of having to flee your home-town just to escape your stalker. But that niggling thought still lived at the back of your mind, the ever-present fear of being hunted again. Fyodor had been kind enough to help you out with settling in Yokohama, but you didn’t want to go through all of it again, and certainly not alone.

“... fine, I’ll change,” you said in a small voice.

“It will be better if you don’t go,” Fyodor said. “I planned to go get dinner anyway, so I will get you whatever you need.”

“That’s fine, thank you.”

“Ah, I’ve frightened my little bird.” Fyodor sighed, pressing his lips to the top of your head. You flinched, but forced yourself to lean in, reminding yourself once again Fyodor was your boyfriend. Who loved you more than anything in the world and had gone above and beyond just to prove it.

If only his touch felt kinder, instead of possessive.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I am sorry, my little dove. I did not mean to distress you.” He wrapped his arms around you tightly, resting his chin on your head. “But you have to remember, everything I do or say is to protect you. You need protection, after all. You do not know just how beautiful you are, just how unusual your pure soul is in this world of sinners. And your body is the temple of your perfection. So protect it from others, and keep it only for me.”

[sweetiepoison]

Famous Baby (Blurb)

The confession

Warnings: verbal argument, angst, smut, flashbacks italicized

You were stringing every curse word you could think of in your head as your right leg shook up and down uncontrollably. Tonight was supposed to be a good night. A night of celebration and friends, but that turned south very quickly when you got to your table.

The outdoor venue that was chosen to host the drew house celebration was big. There were plenty of areas to sit or stand and seating wasn’t assigned. So it infuriated you to no end when Auston decided to sit right across from you with the beautiful blonde he brought as his date.

There was always tension between you that was predictable but the tension that was happening now was palpable and uncomfortable.

Shawn rested his hand on your leg under the table in an attempt to help you relax. You looked over at your ex and gave him a gentle smile and his hand a light squeeze of appreciation.

“So, any big plans before you guys leave LA?” Your best friend asked trying to diffuse the tension.

“Yes!” Steph picked up immediately also trying to lighten the mood, “We planned a hike to the Hollywood sign tomorrow morning.”

“That’s awesome, we’ve done that a few times and honestly the view never gets old.” Your best friends boyfriend, Ryan commented.

“Are you all going?” You asked wanting to know what Auston would be doing, especially if his plans involved his “friend”.

“Nah.” Auston shook his head, “Alexa and I are just gonna chill by the pool.” He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours, “You know what they say, nothing like the California sun.”

You hummed a response your jaw tightening. The thought of Alexa near naked next to Auston made you sick.

“Well I think we all deserve a break especially you two,” you best friend pointed between you and Auston, “(y/n), told me about all the time you put into this event.”

“Yeah, we really had to work together to make the party a success.” Auston kept his eyes on you as your chair made a screeching sound against the ground as you stood abruptly.

“You okay?” Shawn asked as all eyes at the table turned to you.

“Yeah.” You reassured, “I’m just gonna go get another drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I think I’ve had enough. Thank you though.” He smiled brightly up at you.

“Okay.” You gave his shoulder a squeeze before making your way to the bar. After you ordered you put your head down on the cool surface to try and regather yourself. You were annoyed by the emotional strain you were already feeling and the night had barely even begun.

“Almost didn’t recognize you earlier with your clothes on.” You didn’t need to turn around to know the voice whispering in your ear was Auston’s.

“Funny.” You deadpanned sitting back up, but refusing to look at him.

“Were you planning on ignoring me the whole night?”

“For as long as I could.” You admitted with a shrug.

“Don’t you think you’ve done that enough already?” Auston picked up his own drink that he ordered. “You won’t answer any of my calls, you’re ignoring all my texts.”

“Mhm” you agreed. “If you don’t see this going anywhere I don’t want to be involved.”

You both stood side by side back to the bar watching the crowd. You felt a pang of sadness in your chest watching the table you came from. As everyone interacted and laughed your eyes specifically fell on Shawn.

You could be with him if you wanted to, not him specifically but a guy like him. A sweet guy, someone who is kind and polite and treated you well. All of your ex boyfriends fit that description, they were everything you needed. Auston was the opposite. He was loud and assertive and honest, even if it hurt your feelings. He wasn’t everything you needed, but he was everything you wanted.

“That’s not what I said.”

“You told me you didn’t want me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh right you just left me there crying.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch feelings for me, in fact I made it abundantly clear that you shouldn’t.”

You weren’t sure if you regretted that night with Auston or not. The back and forth game between you two was finally over, but the last few weeks also left you lonely and missing him.

With it being the off season, Auston had the time to come to your concert in New York. After the show he joined you at your hotel before you left the next day for the next state.

The night went as it usually did, sex…cuddling…sex again…cuddling again…shower (sometimes sex in the shower). But you didn’t let the routine get past the first round. As you laid there in his arms you took the risk and asked where he saw things going. You tried to deny your feelings for as long as you could but after a while there was no point in ignoring how you felt.

“I’m over it, Auston.” You gulped down the rest of your drink.

“Are you over me?” You sucked in a breath as his fingers timidly touched yours, not fully holding your hand but close enough.

To say the night ended badly would be an understatement. You slammed the bathroom door shut after he rejected you and soon after your hotel room door was slammed shut following Auston’s exit. You’ve ignored him since that night, wanting to forget everything that happened and move on.

“Yes.” Placing your glass down on the bar you rejoined the crowd. You spent the next hour mingling with others and avoiding Auston.

“You okay?” You stood off to the side with Steph.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You twirled the small straw that came with your drink around your glass a few times.

“You just haven’t seemed like yourself.” She shrugged, “and I don’t want to assume but..” she trailed off avoiding eye contact.

“But, what? Steph.”

“But even your fighting with Auston isn’t like your usual fighting.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “Usually it’s annoyed fighting, but tonight it feels almost…personal.”

You swallowed thickly, “What are you trying to say?”

“Did something happen between the two of you?” She finally huffed out.

“No.” You shook your head, “he’s just more irritating than usual tonight.”

You watched as she processed the information but the frown she wore didn’t leave, “If there was anything wrong, you would tell me right?”

“Of course.” It felt like a knife right through the heart as you lied to her, “you’ve become one of my best friends.”

She let out a deep breath and finally smiled, “Okay, good. I’ve just been worried about both of you.”

You wanted to ask her why she’s been worried about Auston. Has he been acting different also? Had your conversation actually had an effect on him? But before any of your questions could be answered the devil himself interrupted.

“Hey Steph, could you keep Alexa company? I forgot a gift in my car and need to go grab it.”

The blond looked over her shoulder before side stepping to allow a spot for the new company to join, “of course we were just gossiping.” She giggled.

You smiled at Alexa but your eyes really never left Auston as you watched him walk away, “excuse me, I’m going to talk to one of the sound guys.”

You backed out of the group and sped walked through the crowd careful to not trip on your own heels. You caught up to Auston right as he was getting his keys from the valet guy.

“We need to talk.” You demanded latching onto his arm.

“Okay, walk with me to my car.” You walked in silence to the parking garage and once you arrived Auston unlocked the doors getting into the drivers side. “Get in.”

You slid into the passenger side crossing your arms over your chest, “what do you think your doing?”

Auston reached into his backseat grabbing a small box, “Getting Justin’s gift.”

“Not that,” you slapped the small box out of his hand back into the backseat, “you brought one of your old hookups as your date.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Yes, you.” Auston mocked your voice, “you brought your ex boyfriend, which is way worse.”

“He’s Justin’s friend too.” You defended.

“Yeah, that’s not making it better.”

You crossed your arms over your chest,“Watching you with another girl isn’t any better for me.”

“Don’t be jealous.” Auston placed his hand on your thigh letting it slowly creep under your dress.

“I told you, we aren’t doing that anymore.” You grabbed his wrist stopping his hand from moving any further.

“You say that every time and then next thing you know we’re hooking up again and the cycle repeats itself.”

“No. I was for real last time, if you don’t want anything serious I’m done. And don’t look at me like that.” You grumbled keeping you arms crossed and eyes straight ahead.

“Like what?” Auston teased a smile playing at his lips.

“Like you actually care.”

“I do.” He responded. “I care about making you feel good.” His right hand made itself comfortable on the back of your neck and began applying pressure, “And you look really tense right now.”

“Wonder who’s responsible for that.” You sarcastically responded.

“The same person who can also help you relax.” He suggested his hand back on your thigh again, but this time you let him go under your dress.

It was pathetic how easily your body responded to him. How your head fell back against the head rest and your hips shifted toward him. Your legs spread further apart and your hand came up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he pushed your panties to the side.

“You’re really wet for someone who’s done with me.” He commented as he massaged your clit, spreading your wetness around.

You ignored his comment

“If you want me to stop I will, but you have to tell me.” You could only manage to shake your head, taking deep breaths while Auston’s middle finger ran up and down your slit.

“Use your words.” Auston whispered into your ear as his fingers continued to dance around where you needed him the most.

“Don’t stop.” You chocked out almost like a plea. Auston followed your command as two of his fingers started to slowly move in and out of you. He used his right hand to unzip the back of your dress. Allowing the top of your dress to fall down, he began sucking and kissing all over your chest.

You reached over the center console to stroke the growing bulge through his dress pants. However, you suddenly felt empty as Auston’s fingers thar were once inside you were now wrapped tightly around your wrist stopping you, “no, this is about you.”

He put your hand back in your lap before bringing his fingers to your lips. He watched intently as you wrapped your lips around his fingers sucking gently. Auston gave you for a hum of approval before going back to pumping his fingers in and out of you at a pace that only someone with significant wrist strength could manage.

You should’ve been embarrassed about how easily he had you falling apart around his fingers, but the feeling was nonexistent as you moaned hiking your leg up on the seat to give him more access.

You bit down on his lip hard keeping your lips connected as you came down from your first orgasm. Auston continued to move his fingers building you up for a second and then he did it again for a third. His fingers continued to move despite your pleas for him to stop.

“You have one more in you.” He encouraged kissing on your neck.

“Auston-I can’t, please.” You whined overstimulated. Auston loved to hear you beg, it didn’t matter if it was for more or for him to stop. He loved the way your voice strained and your body pulsed and his absolute favorite part was hearing the way you said his name.

Hearing you now only motivated him to move his fingers quicker and at more of angle, “Yes you can. You’ve done it before you can do it now.”

Your hips bucked up involuntarily over and over again to meet his fingers. Your body felt like it was on fire as you reached your climax and that’s all it took before you were slumping forward gripping on to the dashboard to keep yourself steady. Your body was absolutely wrecked and you weren’t sure how you were going to stand, let alone walk back to the party.

“Good girl.” Auston kissed the side of your head, finally removing his fingers. He brought them to his own lips this time sucking them clean.

“Enjoy sitting next to your hookup with me still on your fingers.” You commented through ragged breaths.

“Enjoy singing with your ex boyfriend after I just did that to your pussy.” Austons smug remark had you moving with a sudden burst of energy. You reached for your phone looking at the time as it read 7:45. “Fuck,” you mumbled as you frantically pulled your dress back up. You pulled down the passenger side mirror fixing your makeup and hair before pushing the door open.

“Where are you going?” Auston asked as he followed your lead, also getting out of the car.

“Back to the party, I’m supposed to sing with Shawn at 8:00.” You ran your hands over your dress looking at your reflection in the car window.

“I hope Shawn doesn’t remember what you look like after you get fucked.” Auston dismissed your panicked behavior locking the car before walking around to your side.

“I hope Alexa doesn’t mind sitting in the seat where you fucked me.” You threw back as he picked up your hand leading you back to the venue.

You ran straight into Scooter’s chest as you and Auston sped walk back through the side gate that led to patio.

“Woah, slow down turbo.” He joked placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“Sorry, we uh went to Auston’s car to get his gift for Justin that he forgot and we didn’t realize how far away it was and so we basically ran to make it back in time and they should really give his mom a price reduction because of how far away parking is.” You rambled out of breath as you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Where’s the gift?”

“Huh?” You questioned trying to play it cool.

“The gift, that you guys went to go get. Where is it?” Scooter questioned again looking back and forth between the two of you.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You began panicking and searching for any plausible explanation as to why you didn’t have the gift.

“She told me it was stupid.” Auston spoke up clearing his own throat, “the gift, she didn’t like it, told me to return it. Ya know…how she usually acts.” Auston’s voice shook and you mentally rolled your eyes. You may have been a bad actor, but he was worse.

“Right.” Scooter nodded glancing between the two of you again for any real answers. “Well, Shawn’s getting mic’d up now.”

“Yeah I’ll go find him.” You nodded.

“I’ll go back to the table.” Auston said at the same time as you.

You both turned to leave but you turned to your right and he turned to his left causing you to bump into each other. You awkwardly fumbled around each other until you were out of the way.

“Oh and (y/n),” Scooters voice interrupted your awkward interaction “you have a hickey on your neck, might want to put your hair down to cover that up.”

Your cheeks instantly became warm as you kept your head down avoiding eye contact with both of them. “Thanks for letting me know.” You kept your head down as you released your hair from the claw clip it was in and sped walk to the side stage.

“I was starting to think you ditched me.” Shawn joked as he noticed your appearance.

“Sorry I was gone I got caught up in something.” You explained as you were handed a mic. You tucked it under your arm as you placed your inner ear ignoring the way your hands shook.

“You okay? you seem flustered.” He held onto your arm to keep you in place.

“Yeah, Im just nervous.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“I got you, it’s just you and me up there.” His sweet smile made you feel sick. Shawn tucked a piece of hair behind your ear which you quickly began to play with to ensure it didn’t move from your neck.

“You guys ready?” The sound guy asked.

“Yep.” Shawn answered for the both of you as the best you could manage to do was nod your head.

“Alright, you’re on.” He nodded placing headphones over his own ears.

The crowd applauded loudly as you and Shawn took the stage. You were very grateful to whoever’s idea it was to have you sit and perform as you perched yourself on one of the stools center stage. The crowd settled as you sat down and the anticipation built as the opening chords were played by the band.

—

The crowd erupted into cheers as you and Shawn harmonized on the final note. You held tightly onto his hand slowly opening your eyes.

“I’ve missed singing with you.” He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and then kissed your temple.

“I’ve missed it too.” You agreed, pulling him into a deep hug. Your happiness, however was short lived as you looked out into the crowd and watched a body you knew all too well leaving through the side gate.

You shoved your mic into Shawn’s chest, “I’m sorry give me five minutes and I’ll be back.” You promised leaving without a response.

You sped walk through the crowd your eyes locked on the side gate. You brushed off all the praises you received from people as you passed them, your sole focus on catching up with Auston.

“Auston.” You shouted after him as you exited the gate. He didn’t turn around but kept walking.

“Auston!” You shouted again trying to catch up with him on the sidewalk. “Please stop!” You begged tugging on his arm when you finally caught up.

“What do you want?” He turned around to face you ripping his arm out of your grip.

“I want you to talk to me.”

“Oh like you’ve been talking to me these past couple of weeks?” His voice boomed above all the cars on the street.

“You hurt me.” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“I just listened to you sing love songs with your ex, so you hurt me too.”

“That’s not fair.” You crossed your arms, tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes. “You left me at that hotel, I shouldn’t be chasing after you.”

“I left because you slammed the bathroom door in my face.”

“Because I told you I had feelings for you and you said that our relationship wasn’t that serious to you.”

“Because I was scared!” Auston finally burst, “I’ve known I wanted something with you ksince that night at our home game when you got into a fight. But I could tell you didn’t want anything so I kept up the little game we had, but then you stayed the night and wrote the song and my feelings just got all confused.” He ran his hands through his hair letting out a deep sigh, “That night I came to your apartment to apologize, that’s all I should’ve done was apologize and then leave. But once we started, I couldn’t stop, you became addicting. And then you became comforting and-fuck-It’s you, you are all I want.”

“Auston-“ you tried to cut him off, but he didn’t let you.

“And that night you told me you wanted more, I panicked because it would mean we would finally be on the same page. And I started to imagine all the scenarios where it wouldn’t work out. I’ve never wanted to hurt you, but that night I did and I haven’t been able to forgive myself since.”

“I forgive you.” You tentively reached for his hand, “I was confused after that night at your apartment too, but I knew there was something there. And I was hurt after my New York show so I tried pushing you away. But, fuck, I can’t turn off how I feel and you’re all I think about. You are everything I want.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you waited for him to say something, anything. The all consuming silence reminded you of your last night together. And that silence ended in both of you slamming doors and neither of you getting what you wanted.

Up until now all of your relationships for the most part had been easy, especially at the beginning. This was the most you’ve ever had to work. Was being this vulnerable scary as hell? Absolutely. Was Auston worth it? Absolutely.

Auston smiled as a sigh of relief left his lips. He pulled you in by your waist resting his head on your own, “For real?”

You giggled nodding, “yes for real. I don’t want anyone else.” The relief you felt was incomparable. It was like a weight was lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breath.

“I don’t want anyone else either.” He admitted rubbing his hands up and down your back. “I want you to be my girlfriend.” The last sentence was whispered lowly into your ear.

Your grin was enough of an answer, but still you nodded and whispered “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“I’ll be whatever you want, baby.” Auston reassured placing a kiss on your neck, followed by your cheek, and then your lips.

“Would it be totally wrong if we ditched our dates?

“Yes.” Auston confirmed, “but when have we ever been morally sound people.” He bent to pick you up causing you to squeal and giggle at the sudden change as he carried you down the street.

“That song you performed with him wasn’t even that good anyway.” You laughed at Auston’s bitter tone.

“I’ll perform some new ones for you that I’ve been working on.” You offered running your fingers through his hair.

“As long as they aren’t about another guy.”

“Nah, they’ve all been about the same guy lately” you admitted, hoping the darkness would hide your blush.

“I can’t wait to hear it then.”

[norrizzandpia]

Let Me Love You (OP81)

Summary: A friendship where the lines are incredibly blurred is risky, but it’s even more risky to fall in love with a girl who won’t let anyone in romantically.

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, mentions of depression, trauma, mentions of psychological abuse, toxic family household (lmk if i missed any 💗)

Laughing, Oscar leaned into Y/n’s side as his arm laid lazily over her shoulders. Nights like this were his favorite. Just the two of them on the couch in his living room, cuddled together as they watched a wide variety of movies for hours. The way she would curl further into him whenever a part in the movie was unnerving made his heart warm as she showed him she felt safe with him.

His hand came up to stroke her hair as she laid against his shoulder, “What are you doing tomorrow morning?” He whispered into her ear.

He felt her hand trail up and down his stomach absentmindedly, “Nothing, why?”

He smiled, “Sleepover?”

She giggled as she shook her head, “Sounds good.”

Oscar furrowed his eyebrows at her laughing, “What’s so funny?”

Y/n turned her head to look up at him, his brain faltering at her stare, “I haven’t been home to see my roommates in days. I’ve literally just been here.”

His confusion only deepened, “Why’s that a bad thing? That’s how I like it.”

The two smiled at each other as the movie went on in the background, “Me too.”

—

Oscar only realized how late it was when he noted the way Y/n’s chest rose and fell slowly. He had been so caught up in his mind as to not notice that the time was creeping close to 3 AM and, while the two of them had nothing to do the next morning, they needed proper sleep.

Shutting off the TV and scooping her up in his arms, he moved them into his bedroom. She had slept over multiple times and each time they slept together in his bed, something that never got easier for him. He moved to take off her shirt, but hands stopped him.

“I can do it.” Y/n groggily said as she pushed his fingers away and motioned for him to turn around.

“Y/n, I’ve seen you naked before.” It was true, he had. Whether it was walking in on the other changing or having to help the other get on a piece of clothing, both friends had seen the other half dressed and bare.

She tilted her head, “Seriously, Oscar. Turn around.”

Putting his hands up in surrender, he fulfilled her demands. With shuffling and rustling, she stepped out of her clothing and slipped into his shirt, her pajamas.

“Okay, you’re good.” She signaled to the Australian before he was spinning around and smiling at the picture of her in his clothes.

For a second too long, his eyes lingered over her body and the realization dawned on him that she was very clearly only wearing underwear beneath the fabric. Suddenly, his pants were growing tight and his need to take a shower was dire.

“I’m going to go get ready for bed. I have to take a shower and all that, so don’t wait up for me.” He scurried out of the room before she could even remind him he had taken one just a few hours ago.

—

Y/n didn’t know why, but the second she heard the door to the bathroom click open, she closed her eyes and played the part of a sleeping person. Her ears listened to the shuffling across the room and the rustling of the sheets before Oscar’s body was sliding under the covers. His arms instinctively wrapped around her waist and his body fit behind hers as his head stuffed into her neck, breathing in her scent. She would’ve fallen asleep then, but the words spoken next kept her awake for hours.

Whispering, Oscar thought she was unconscious, “I wish you could sleep in my bed as more then a friend.”

—

A week after the sleepover, and Oscar’s words were still being obsessed over in Y/n’s mind. She knew what he meant by it and all the insinuations that came with such a statement, and she knew that she loved Oscar. However, she also knew she would never ever be able to let him in that way. It was something she had struggled with her whole life. From the beginning of her childhood, it was clear her home life wasn’t like mosts. From screaming matches and things being thrown to the fear her dad or mom was going to hit her in a fight, Y/n had learned that love was a war zone. It didn’t matter that she knew that statement was irrational or that it would prevent her from experiencing one of life’s greatest treasures, it was one of her biggest fears and it would always stay that way. She never expected anyone to stick around long after they found out about all the problems and trauma responses she had developed from years of psychological abuse, and didn’t want to make herself hopeful for someone to now.

Y/n had never experienced unconditional love, never understood it or how someone could love another enough through every up and down that life came with. She thought it was a myth, a writing strategy used in romcoms and disney princess movies, not in real life and most definitely not with Oscar.

“Y/n?” Celia shouted throughout the house as she entered.

“In here!” The girl shouted from the kitchen

Celia, one of Y/n’s roommates, came traipsing into the room moments later with a tired smile.

“How was class?” Y/n asked as the girl walked behind her in search of snacks to gorge on.

Nodding, Celia groaned, “It was fine, just horrifying with a hangover and stuff.”

Y/n laughed as much as she could considering all that was taking place in her mind, “Yeah, I get it.”

There was a silence from Celia before she was moving closer to her best friend and rubbing her back, “You okay? That laugh sounded a little forced.”

She was prepared to deny it, but one look in the red headed girl’s eyes crushed the defensive army ready to cover up Y/n’s feelings again.

“I think Oscar has feelings for me.” She got out.

Celia smiled, “I knew that, but I’m glad you’ve come to your senses now! Why would we be sad about this?”

That was the part Y/n really didn’t want to get into. Sure, Celia knew all about her childhood, or lack thereof, but it wasn’t something Y/n just brought up comfortably. The conversation almost always ended in tears as Y/n relived some of the worst moments of her life in a place that should’ve been nurturing and warm.

Noticing her shut down, Celia realized why Oscar and Y/n’s family situation were tied.

Sighing, Celia leaned her head on the girl’s shoulder, “Oh, babe.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, so Celia continued, “Talk to him. Give him a chance. Y/n, Oscar would never bring you back there.”

“It’s not a problem of if he’s going to trigger, it’s that I won’t allow myself to love someone so much that I’ll beg for their forgiveness and love, and give them all the power to shun me like my parents did.” That was the worst part. For years during her adolescence, Y/n had learned the telling signs that her mom was angry with her. It could’ve been one small thing that was misinterpreted or misunderstood, but it would set her mother off and into a tailspin of bitter coldness and isolation. Y/n had begun to plead with her mom for forgiveness over something that was so small and yet, the poor girl would always be left with a broken heart and no returned love from her mother.

Celia broke for the unloved child clearly still hurting within Y/n, “But, Oscar loves you. He has for years. He would never out you in that position.”

Turning away and shutting down, Y/n moved toward her room, “I won’t risk it.”

—

His hand held hers under the table. He knew she didn’t want to be here, in this house with all its broken memories. Oscar knew that, as she sit across from the mother who didn’t love her enough and the father who was never there, Y/n was struggling. He could see it in the way her eyes glossed and her voice trembled slightly when addressed by her parents. He saw it in the way that when she looked at certain photographs or revisited certain rooms, flashbacks of things she shouldn’t have seen so young appeared in her mind. He knew there wasn’t much he could do except stand strongly by her side and hold her up when she fell.

“So, Oscar, how’s F1?” Y/n’s dad spoke to the blonde man who was currently too preoccupied in his own mind to give a detailed answer.

“It’s good.” He said and the silence hung as the family waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

“You two still in love with each other?” Her mother snickered from beside her husband as she eyed the duo. Oscar laughed because it was true, but Y/n stayed silent, staring off as she ripped her hands out of Oscar’s grasp and standing up.

“We should really get going. Oscar has an early morning.” She stated before moving around the table to gather her bag and make a beeline toward her front door.

“Oh… okay?” He followed her lead, understanding that something had set her off to the point of no return.

He couldn’t catch up with her as he closed the door behind him and ran after her into the street.

“Y/n! Slow down!” He shouted as she yanked open his car door and got in.

Finally, once in the driver’s seat, he looked at her and addressed her behavior, “What happened?”

His question was innocent, but her response was pure malice, “I think we should stop seeing each other as much.”

To say he was shocked would be an understatement, “What do you mean? Why?”

She shook her head, “I just need to spend more time with my friends and, in order to do that, I need to lay off on how much I’m seeing you.”

He started the car and pulled out of the driveway, “You can still see your friends and me at the same time? You have enough free time with the amount of time we spend together to also hangout with your roommates and stuff.”

She shook her head as the drive to her place continued, “No. I have school I have to focus on and work and… I just can’t do it all with how much I see you.”

Oscar glanced at her, “But, I don’t understand? You’ve never mentioned hanging out with me has strained your schedule. If you had, we would have fixed it.”

She shrugged, “Well, I’m telling you now.”.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on, “Y/n, this is too out of the blue. What’s going on?”

Finally, her frustration boiled over and she raised her voice, “Jesus, Oscar! You don’t know when to stop, do you? Just leave me alone, that’s all I’m asking.”

He shook his head immediately, “No! Not when something’s clearly going on with you!” He shouted back.

They turned onto her street, “Nothing’s going on with me! It’s you! I know you want more then what we have already! I know you want more then just friends! I’m not doing that, Oscar! I don’t love you that way!”

While her words hurt as they pulled into her driveway, he saw the shimmer in her eyes which told him everything. Told him what she was saying was the trauma talking, what she was saying was the trust issues, the abandonment issues, the self-preservation, and fear talking. He hated the way she couldn’t let him in the way he knew she wanted to and he absolutely loathed the way no matter how hard he loved her, she would never understand. Yet, even with all that, he knew he would never stop trying.

His voice grew quiet, “Do you want me to tell you that I’m in love with you? Because I will. Technically, I already have with all the times I’ve told you how I need you as more while you slept next to me. But, those times you didn’t hear me, and now you will. So, listen, please, when I say that I am not your parents. I am not your childhood. I am not your pain, or your trauma, or your fear. I’m just your best friend who’s deeply in love with you. Y/n, I’m a person you can trust with that part of you. I won’t break it like they did.”

Her tears flowed like a river down her cheeks as she willed herself to give in, to see what happiness really felt like. But, every time she came close to letting him see even the slightest bit of the person she had tried so hard to shove away into the depths of her mind, she freaked out. She couldn’t do it.

She wouldn’t do this.

Shaking her head and opening the car door, she leaped out, “No, Oscar. I’m sorry. I won’t ever get there with you.”

He got out of his car as he chased her up the stairs to her door before reaching her and grabbing her arm, forcing her to turn around and look at him, “You say that, but I don’t care. I’m too far gone, too in love with you, to give up now. If it happens tomorrow or never, I will always be waiting for you to let me love you.”

With that, he spun around and retreated back to his car, head low and tears in his eyes. He wasn’t angry at her, but angry at them. Her parents had stripped her of the ability to see life for what it actually was. Full of love.

—

A year ago, a call from her parents would have sent her anxiety sky rocketing, but, now, as she stares down at the buzzing phone, she feels nothing, but peace. Realizing the ability to cut them off was freeing when her therapist suggested it. After that night with Oscar, she had been utterly ruined, noticing that her efforts to keep herself away from pain because of love had done nothing. She had been completely destroyed by love and she hadn’t even had the luxury of basking in it, experiencing it with him. So, dialing her friend’s recommended psychiatrist, she began booking sessions and understanding the deeply rooted wounds that had manifested themselves within her from such a young age. The topic of Oscar hadn’t come up until 6 months in and Y/n hadn’t gotten the nerve to call him until 4 months after. She hung onto his words from that night since the moment he said them, “If it happens tomorrow or never, I will always be waiting for you to let me love you.”

Something she had worked through with her therapist was the fear that those words were no longer true, but the second the doctor made her realize that Y/n would never know unless she reached out was worse.

So, that’s how she found herself on his doorstep, nervously tapping her foot as her fingers hovered over the doorbell.

‘Fuck it’ She thought before reaching out and colliding with the button. Distant ringing echoed throughout the house before she heard footsteps and then the door was opening.

“Hi, how can I he-“ His head was down before he made eye contact and his brain processed the person standing in front of him. He wouldn’t lie, she looked better. The clear signs of depression having disappeared from her appearance while the nervous smile he loved so much stayed put.

“Y/n…” He said breathlessly as he continued to stare at her while Y/n did the same. Her eyes trailed over his body, noting how muscular he had gotten, until she saw his face and saw the way it didn’t light up like it used to, his teeth not showing in any smile he tried to give.

“A year ago, you told you would always be waiting for me to-“ He cut her off as he stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms.

“Let me love you.” He squeezed her tightly, one arm around her waist as the other cradled her face to his chest.

She smiled, he felt it, “Yeah, will you still?”

“Will I what?” He asked even though he wasn’t confused by her question at all, just wanting her to say it.

“Will you love me?” She squeezed him back, her arms tightly around his torso.

Oscar kissed her head as he smiled, “Always, my love. Always.”