#because i like to focus when answering things

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s���too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[mauvecherie-writes]

duality: l.hamilton

pairing: lewis hamilton x black journalist!reader

summary: it’s two years on since and then a lot about your dynamic has changed. things are official and everyone is still none the wiser …

tags: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, extremely sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, dom/sub elements, spit, choking, some slight edging, aftercare.

w.c: 4.5K

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @emjayewrites @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @angelinaevans @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @samiwzx @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew

previous part: super soaker.

Your friends loved a good gossip session and tonight’s topic as you sat in the exclusive club ‘Lounge 418’ was who had the best dick game in Hollywood. You had very little input considering you were still reaching the heights of your popularity as a journalist and you barely paid attention to the couple of men who had tried to get some type of access to you and it was going to be denied each time.

“The athletes though.” Marie smirked as the rest of the table hummed in agreement. “The toxicity adds a little sweetness to it.” She added which caused you to giggle. Chanel turned her body to face yours.

“Aren’t they all in your DM’s anyway? A fine ass woman talking about them in detail. I know that gives them an ego boost.”

It does. they messaged you all the time, wanting to quiz your knowledge in person. An arrogance that annoyed the hell out of you so you never replied. The only one who ever caught your eye was Lewis and it worked in his favour because he approached you accordingly. You had posted a podcast episode recapping on the events of his race in Brazil in 2021. As a long time fan of his - that was the race that sparked your love for him all over again.

The way you had spoken so passionately about him and his career, defending his right to the championship. Lewis had sent you a message thanking you for your support. It was short and sweet but your crush on him drove you to give him an answer then everything snow balled from there. That one episode changed your life for the next two and a half years.

When your relationship initially began, it was strictly casual sex but things got intense pretty quickly and the NDA was scrapped when things became more official between you. However, the both of you loved and respected each other’s privacy thus no one, even your closest friends knew.

So lost within your mind, you had forgotten that you were the focus of the conversation until Lewis’s sport was mentioned, your head snapped upwards.

“What about that F1 guy you’re obsessed with?”

Your cheeks warmed as a sense of bashfulness filled you. “What about him?”

“Has he ever slid into your DM’s?”

“I mean…” You shrugged your shoulders as you sipped on your French 75. “He was pretty chill and he was thanking me for my support for him for my podcast episode.”

“And that was it?” Marie raised her eyebrow and a small smirk playing on her face.

“We spoke here and there but that was about it.” You replied, trying to keep it as vague as possible. You remembered how flirty he was and how you had gravitated towards him. Your crush did quite a chunk of heavy lifting but Lewis was a natural charmer and he invoked feelings within you that had thought were gone. He brought them out and they haven’t dissipated since.

“He just looks like an absolute sweetheart. I don’t think he’d be that freaky though - seems like the vanilla type.” Your friend Vanessa commented. “Not that there's anything wrong with Vanilla.” She added.

“Nah, I say it’s the sweethearts you need to be on the lookout for. One minute, they’re feeding your strawberries and the next, they’re eating your pussy from the back and their thumb slipping into your ass.”

“That was oddly specific Marie.” Chanel raised her eyebrow with a grimace which caused all of you to burst out laughing. You hid your face behind your glass with a smile on your face.

As the alcohol flowed so did the topics and Lewis was no longer a focus which caused you to relax. You were beginning to think about him too much even though you had been with him in the morning before he left.

Then your phone buzzed in your bag. You placed your drink down and took your phone out and a message notification was on the screen.

🏎️💨: I see you.

You looked up from your phone and tried to search the crowds in the lounge but it was too dimly lit.

You: Lol okay, Mr Creeper. Where do you see me from?

🏎️💨: I’m a few tables ahead of you to the right. I saw trying to look for me. I’m in the blue cap with the TH tracksuit.

As soon as you read the description of his appearance, you quickly spotted him and you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. His attempts at disguising himself in public were always terrible and him dressed top to bottom in a Tommy Hilfiger two piece was certainly not doing him any favours.

You: You are terrible at hiding yourself lol. You’re staring right at me.

You: Also, what are you doing here??? I thought you were having a quiet night until I came to your place.

🏎️💨: The boys dragged me out. They say I haven’t been out in a while. I didn’t know we were on our way here until we were outside.

🏎️💨: Come and say hi.

“Who are you texting that’s making you smile like that?” Marie as she tried to snoop, looking down at your phone. You quickly locked your screen and placed your phone back into your bag.

“Nobody.” You smiled at her as you got up. Smiling at everyone, “I just saw someone, I’m gonna say go say hi and I’ll be back.”

Your friends watched you as you walked away from your table, their eyes widening when they see the men sitting at the table.

As you drew closer, your smile could not be stopped as you saw him sitting there on top of the booth, his legs spread. You could spot his rainbow coloured pearl necklace from the top of the track jacket.

With a small wave to the other men, you made it in front of Lewis, standing in between his legs.

“You look good enough to eat.” He mumbled in your ear as you hugged him.

“You look good too.” You replied with a soft giggle. His head turned slightly into your neck and placed a kiss in the depression of your collarbone through the fabric of your top.

Your sweet spot.

You almost moaned but your will power compelled you to pull away.

“Are you allowed to hug me like that in public?” You softly asked him.

“Anything I say goes and I wanted that hug. I haven’t seen you since this morning.” He licked his lips as he let his eyes fall down to your midriff. It was like he could see himself back in your bed this morning. You tapped his thigh so he could focus on your face instead and once he held your gaze and sighed, you rolled your eyes.

“Always in the gutter.” You commented.

“You’re in there with me.” He threw back at you with a smirk. With his grip on your forearm, he pulled you closer in between his legs. Feeling his warmth had you taking a deep breath as he stared at you without word.

“So what’s on the agenda? Everyone’s looking at us, they’re gonna pick up on it.”

“It’s been two years, let them speculate.”

“You know now that I’ve seen you, I just want to leave now and my girls are gonna ask questions.”

“Tell them what you want.” He said. “In about thirty minutes, you’re gonna meet me out front and we’ll go back to my place.”

“What are we doing at your place?” You asked as you played with his zipper.

“You’ll find out when we get there but make sure you book a hair appointment soon.”

“Jesus Christ.” You breathed out as you let his words sink into your bones.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay … Sir.”

“Good girl.”

God, the urge to kiss him was strong within you but instead you pulled away from him and got back to reality. You patted his chest before you finally withdrew and went back to your table.

“What in the hell was that?!” Chanel exclaimed. “You were trying to play coy with us but you knew that Lewis Hamilton was going to be here?!”

“Yeah, friends my ass.” Vanessa snickered

“First of all, I didn’t know he was going to be here.” You spoke as you reached for the bottle of fresh champagne on the table.

“Was he the one messaging you?” “Is this the first time you’ve seen him in a social setting?” “Girl what the hell was that? Y’all were all up on each other?!” “Yeah, what was that about?”

“What is with all these damn questions?” You tried to laugh them off and focused on drinking. All your friends narrowed their eyes at you.

“This is not over.” Maria pointed at you.

“Whatever.” You playfully smacked her hand away from your direction. And for the next thirty minutes, you had tried to focus back your attention on your friends but since talking to Lewis, your body was riddled with anticipation.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you quickly said your goodbyes, they playfully jeered you as you walked away. You rolled your eyes laughing at their remarks. When you got outside, Lewis’s bodyguard was waiting outside of his truck to open the door for you.

You greeted him softly as you slid into the truck and sat yourself beside your boyfriend, who placed a light kiss on your cheek. You melted into the side of his body as you rode from the lounge to his property.

When you got up to his penthouse, you were in awe of the interior design. You especially loved his floor to ceiling windows that gave you the most perfect view of the New York skyline. Your toes wiggled against the heated floors as you had taken your heels off the moment you entered his home.

You were standing by the window when Lewis came behind you, holding a small glass of wine.

“You always said that you’d wanted to taste one of my wines from my infamous wine fridge.”

“I always found it interesting that you’re not much of a drinker but every home you own has a wine fridge and a small bar.”

“I like the aesthetic of it.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean I can’t cater to the people around me who do.”

You took a sip of the beverage and you almost moaned at the richness of the wine hitting your tastebuds. You had always been a wine snob and Lewis indulged in your tastes by buying you expensive wines that you wouldn’t even think of.

“I can’t believe you got me a bottle of Burgundy.”

“You’d been raving about it for a week when you saw that it was being auctioned. Personally I don’t see what the fuss is about.” His last comment caused you to laugh. The bottle was a Chateau Latour from 1984, matured for forty years and you had wanted it since your first big paycheck. The bottle being auctioned was a blessing in disguise but you always talked yourself out actually spending close to £500 for it.

Lewis bought it for you without a blink.

You took another sip, a larger one than the last.

“It has very intense notes. It’s herby but has a lot of fruity notes coming to the top. Black cherries and blackberries is what I taste the most but it leaves an earthy note when it’s done.”

“You sound so hot when you talk like that.” Lewis softly groaned which caused you to blush. You placed the nearly empty wine glass down as he encroached into your personal space. You tried to ignore the way that he was staring you down which was causing your heart to beat incredibly fast. You had always reacted like this to him and you honestly thought that was never going to change.

You licked your lips as he cupped your cheeks in his hands and caressed your skin with his thumbs.

“I just love hearing you talk about things you’re passionate about.” He traced your bottom lip with his thumb as he dropped one of his hands to your waist and pulled you into his body.

“Thank you.” You whispered, admiring his beauty up close. You loved the small beauty spot that sat high on his cheekbone and the double nose piercings with diamonds that caught the light from all angles. His lashes were long and curled and as he looked at you - they seemed to be touching his cheeks.

“Want a taste of the wine?” You asked with a little smirk on your lips as Lewis moved his hand to the back of your head.

“Yeah, give me a taste.” He mumbled before he leaned down and captured your mouth. Lewis moaned softly as he savoured the residue of the wine still on your lips. You couldn’t move your head much as he had moved his hands to cup your face in his palms as he controlled the kiss. You melted into his hold, silently begging for more as you held onto his wrists trying to stabilise yourself.

You nibbled on his bottom lip which caused him to growl, he walked you backwards until you were pressed into the window behind you. Finally, he moved his hands away from your face and trailed them down your body and gripped you as you wrestled with his tongue. His hands dipped into the hem of your skirt until one of his fingers hooked on your thong.

“Can we move to the bedroom?” You whispered as Lewis kissed down the length of your neck. Your fingers moved to his hair, tugging on his braids as his tongue licked on your pretty brown skin.

“No one can see you from up here.” He said as he licked on your earlobe before sucking on it.

“Maybe next time but I want you to take me on your bed.”

“You want me to fuck you into my mattress is that it?”

“Yes.” You gasped at his words and then he picked you up in his arms and began walking towards the bedroom. You capture his lips again - in a far more frantic manner as you clawed at his clothes, begging him to take them off. He threw you onto his king sized bed and then discarded his jacket and white vest.

“Take it all off.” He commanded you which caused you to whimper. You stripped out of your clothes until you were left in just your thong and before you could pull them down, Lewis pulled you towards him by your ankle, squealing as he dragged you. Your back settled down onto the bed as Lewis positioned himself in between your legs and pulled your thongs away from your cunt.

Lewis felt you tremble as he parted your folds with his fingers, teasing them as he watched you react to his touch.

“I always tell you this but you have such a pretty pussy sweetheart.”

“And you love playing with my pretty pussy.”

“Yeah I do. I’m gonna play with you and make you feel so good until I’ve had enough.” You moaned at his words and thrusted your pussy into his face. Lewis chuckled at your desperation, pressing the pad of his thumb on your clit.

“How bad do you want it?” He asked you as you took off your underwear completely.

“I want it so bad baby.” You replied as he got onto his knees and placed your legs on his shoulders. “Please.” You pleaded.

“Ugh.” Lewis groaned. “I love it when you get like this. So needy before I even touch you.” He turned his head to place kisses on the inner of your thighs.

“Because you love teasing me until I can’t take it.” He smirked at you right before he buried his head in your thighs. The first burst of your small whimpers left you as he wrapped his lips around your clit and softly sucked it into his mouth. Your hands quickly found their way into your hair, tugging on the strands as he sucked on your sensitive bud. His eyes moved upward to meet yours that were already looking down at him. Lewis’s gaze was so intense as he caught your every reaction.

Shaky breaths left you as he flicked his tongue back and forth on your nub. Your sweetness trickled into his mouth, dipping the muscle into your cunt. You squirmed in his arms as he continued giving you slow strokes of his tongue before changing the motion into a suction.

“Oh shit!” You gasped as you jerked up to your elbows and pushed the back of your heels into his muscled, tattooed back. Lewis softly groaned against you as his cock strained in his pants.

“Just like that.” You moaned as you pulled on the covers beneath you as you rolled your hips into his mouth. Just as your orgasm was on the eclipse, he pulled away from you and your sound of despair was music to his ears as he grabbed a strip of condoms from the bedside table and he threw them beside you on the bed.

“I hate it when you stop just as I’m about to cum.” You whined as you watched him cover his dick with the condom.

“I know sweetheart but tonight, I only want to feel you cumming on me.” He told you as he traced your opening with the tip of his cock as he crowded your body from above. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he hiked your legs to his waist. Lewis leaned down and pressed a searing kiss onto your lips, you hummed into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

He slowly slid inside.

“Fuck.” The both of you sighed. You dug your nails into his shoulders as he slid further into your cunt. Your lips brushed against each other as he slowly dragged his cock in and out of you as you continued to adjust to the stretch. Two years on and you still took a little time to accommodate him.

He placed a kiss on your hairline as he whispered sweet words in your ear. “Always tight and sweet for me.” You whimpered at his words as you tried to push your hips up to encourage him to pick up speed but all he did was put his hands in the crook of your knees, pushing them down. From the new position, his chains were dangling down into your face.

“Baby.” You called him.

“Yeah baby?”

“Don’t go sweet on me. I need you.” His strokes were slow, building his momentum but hearing you say that made his jaw clench. He’d always tried to be gentle with you never really letting his mask slip but there were times before where he had given you a taste and you craved for Lewis to let go of his inhibition.

“I’ll ruin you sweetheart. I’ll ruin you for good.” He mumbled as he pecked your lips.

“I’m yours. Do what you want to me.”

Lewis let your words wash over you and they made him buckle. He dropped his forehead onto yours with his eyes closed.

“Do you know the traffic light system?” He asked you and you quickly nodded your head in response.”

“Green means go, amber is slow down and red is stop.”

“Good girl.” He hummed, giving you one more kiss. “I still want a safe word.”

“Burgundy.” You shot out an answer which caused him to smirk.

“That’s my girl.” He sat up but he was still holding you down as he angled his hips and hit your spot at a different angle. Your breath ceased, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he began to focus on that same spot - thrusting into you hard and fast. Your walls tightly clenched around him, strangling his cock as your body was swept in pleasure. Because of the previous build up, your orgasm was quickly rising.

He could feel your warmth and wetness through the sheath of the latex and for the umpteenth time, his mind wandered to how you’d feel without the barrier in between you. His knees were already buckling , he knew without the condom, he’d crumble. However, he had to focus. Your moans were calling out to him, your hand was pressing at his abdomen to try and relieve some of the pressure but he wasn’t going to let up.

He would get you right to the edge, get your legs shaking before he would stop. Edging you over and over until you were begging with tears trailing down the sides of your face.

“Please, please, please, please.” You rambled as you thrashed your head around, completely overwhelmed with your nerves being overshot by his actions and his dick pushing deeper inside of you. Your eyes were closed as you tried to regulate your breathing to focus on not climaxing.

“Open your eyes baby.” Lewis grabbed your cheeks, the pain of his blunt nails digging into your skin forced you to open your eyes. “There you go. I need you to keep looking at me as I fuck you stupid.”

He hiked up your right leg to his shoulder as he picked up his pace, pounding into you harder and faster.

“Lewis!” You exclaimed his name as your back arched off the bed, gasping for air as his hips snapped harshly against your skin. He loved the way his name fell from your lips, the best music to his ears. “Right there baby!”

“Open your mouth.” He demanded and you promptly let your mouth part. He hovered above you and let some spit drop into your mouth. You whimpered as you quickly swallowed and showed him your tongue to show him that you’d done it.

“That’s my good girl.” He smiled at you and then wiped your bottom lip, smudging the last of your lipstick. His fingers were so close and you took them into your mouth, sucking on them causing his rhythm to stutter. He pushed his fingers a little bit further into your mouth which caused you to gag a little bit and you kept sucking on his digits.

You have a thing for choking and he’d picked up on that but hadn’t really done much to play with you until now. Lewis took his fingers out of your mouth and brought them to your neck and applied just enough pressure to make your walls clamp up around him. You squeezed your eyes closed as more tears came - you couldn’t hold back anymore, our body was begging for release and Lewis continued with his teasing.

“Hold your legs up.” He told you and when your arms hooked around your trembling thighs, Lewis bent his body so that his head was closer to your chest and took a nipple into his mouth. He grazed your areola with his teeth before sucking on your nipple causing your walls to quiver around his dick.

Even without words, Lewis could feel your body crying for release. “My dirty, dirty girl. I can feel you milking my dick, just trying to take me for all my worth.” Using his weight to hold you down, one hand still around his neck and the other coming in between your bodies to pinch your clit before moving his fingers in swift and fast circles on your nub.

“This pretty pussy doesn’t want to let me go sweetheart.” He whispered into your ear before placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“I need to come.” Your lips were against his ear, his cold jewellery touching your warm, flushed skin. “Please let me come, Sir. Let me come for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? What if I just want you right on the edge? Hm? What if it brings me pleasure edging you and watching you suffer?”

“Baby…”

“You can stop it now. Just give me the word and I’ll end it all right now.”

You shook your head. “Don’t stop.”

Lewis then shifted your position yet again, this time with your knees now on each side of your head. He began fucking you harder than before which left you incoherent, begging and pleading for any and everything.

Your juices were drenching the both of you and with each thrust, the slapping of wet skin caused an echo to carry across the room.

“I’m gonna come!” You inhaled sharply as your chest heaved for air. Lewis placed a kiss onto the back of your leg.

“Come for me baby. Wanna feel you drench my dick.” His words broke the dam. Your whole body was set ablaze as your orgasm consumed your body as you called out his name in a desperate cry. Lewis dropped his head into the crook of your neck, sucking your skin into his mouth as he fucks you through the climax.

His thrusts became irregular and sloppy until he was moaning against your flesh as he erupted into the condom. You held onto each other as the both of you tried to control your breathing. Your bodies were covered in sweat and the stickiness of your fluids in between your legs.

Your body was still vibrating from the intensity of your orgasm. “I can’t feel my legs.” You mumbled in his ear causing Lewis to chuckle. He turned his head and kissed along your jawline before capturing your lips into a soft kiss.

“Did I hurt you baby?”

“In all of the best ways.” You smiled against his lips. “One of the best orgasms you’ve ever given me.”

“One of many.”

“God, I love you.” You groaned as you wrapped your arms around his neck as he began to move away from the bed and towards the bathroom. He sat you on the counter of the sink as he walked to the bathtub to fill it with water before coming back to you.

He parted your legs and grabbed a wet rag and began wiping you down. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you baby?” The marks of his touch were beginning to show on your skin and the concern in his tone made you swoon. You placed a hand on his cheek and made him look at you.

“I’m fine baby, I swear. I still feel like you’re holding back on me.” You replied.

“It’s our first time venturing into that type of play. I don’t want to overwhelm you just yet. Things tonight were already intense so we need to be careful about that.”

“Hmmm.” You hummed as your walls clenched around nothing and your nipples began to tighten. “God, I love it when you talk to me like that.”

Lewis smirked down at you before leaning forward and kissing you once more. “I take being a dom very seriously. You’re my girl and I love you so I have to be extra cautious.”

“Are you finally going to make me yours completely?”

“You already are, sweetheart, I don’t need to dominate you to prove that.” He licked his lips before picking you up and walking you to the tub.

“No, but it would be nice.” Your answer caused him to laugh as he settled the both of you in the warm water. Your body was sore in all of the right places and here you were in the arms of the same man who brought you the sinful pleasure and now the most tender affection.

The duality of his love.

ru’s letters 💌: I cannot believe that this was sitting in my drafts for two years. I did some adjustments for it to be a sequel and instead of a prequel. Hope you loved it my angels 😘.

edit: thinking of doing a final part for this where we fully explore Lewis in a full Dom mode. Let me know what you think 🫶🏾

[cameronspecial]

Hiii, love your writing 🩷

I was thinking about Single!Dad Rafe x reader. Like, how would they meet, how would his child react to reader and so on.

The Gymnastics Coach

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

It smells like feet. That’s the only thing Rafe can focus on as he stands with only his socks on whilst his daughter patiently stands on his feet to wait. He holds her small hands in his and he wonders how he let Sarah convince him to sign Sloane up. Although, he knows it was quite easy for his sister to do because he would do anything for Sloane, except for maybe family gymnastics. Not only does the feet smell turn him off, but the stares from the older women are off-putting to him. Since Sloane was born, his playboy days are past him and he definitely isn’t going to start an affair. “Daddy, time for gymnastics?” the small blonde wonders, her big blue eyes blinking up at him. Rafe is glad there is no trace of his ex on his baby girl’s face. That woman doesn’t deserve any ownership of his girl. He checks his golden watch which is out of place to see there are still two minutes until they are called in. He smiles at her, “Almost, Little Warrior.” Her head flicks up and down and she goes back to looking forward. It was a mistake choosing the class that is during the work day. His tie causes him even more discomfort and he decides that he won’t be coming back. He’ll just sign her up for ballet instead or Sarah could take Sloane to the other classes. Rafe does prefer taking Sloane to her classes though because he wants to be there for his daughter.

Right at eleven o’clock, the door to his right opens and his breath is taken away by the beautiful woman who walks out of it. She may be wearing nothing special, her red work t-shirt and yoga pants, but she somehow makes it look like she is wearing a dress made for the red carpet. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun with strands framing her face. All he wants to do is twirl those strands around his finger. “Welcome my little gymnasts and their parents! I am Y/N and I am so excited to lead you in Family Gymnastics,” a melodic voice greets and Rafe swears he has never heard anything so sweet. Hmm, so this is Sloane’s coach. He might have to keep her in the class after all. 

———

Y/N doesn’t know why she is so nervous. She is Sloane’s gymnastics coach, so she has met and interacted with the young girl before. However, this time is different because she is going to be talking to the girl as her boyfriend’s daughter. She takes a deep breath as she knocks on the large door. A soft giggle falls past her lips when she hears the loud swears coming from Rafe’s lips and can see his panic through the glass door. Sloane comes running to her father’s side with a wide grin on her face. He takes her hand in his and they both walk to open the front door. “Hey,” he salutes with a stressed smile on his face. Seeing the state that he is in causes Y/N’s nerves to completely disappear. The only thought she has is how to remove his distress. She steps through the doorway and gives him a peck, “Hi, what’s wrong?” Before the fellow adult can answer, a tiny tug on Y/N’s dress causes her to look down. Sloane looks up at her coach with big eyes and her arms are out, demanding to be acknowledged. 

The older woman smiles and picks the two-year-old up into her arms, “Hello, Sloane. How are you today, Pumpkin?”  The girl grins at the kiss placed on her cheek and wraps her arms around Y/N’s neck. “Good! Daddy and I are making dinner for his girlfriend, Coach Y/N. But Daddy isn’t doing a very good job,” she tattles, causing her father to grimace. Y/N chuckles at the revelation, “Is that so? Well, maybe I can help him with that.” She carries Sloane to where she assumes the kitchen is in because it is the direction Rafe came from with him following behind her. The sight in front of her truly is a show. The pot is overboiling and there is a slight burnt smell wafting through the air. This causes Rafe to begin cursing again as he runs to the oven to pull out charcoal disaster. He gives his girls a sheepish look, “This was supposed to be chicken parmesan.” Her heart flips at his attempt to make her favourite meal for dinner. “It’s okay. If you have the ingredients still, then I can help you this time,” she offers, placing the girl on the counter.

After an hour, the trio are able to whip up something edible and eat at the dining room table. “Daddy, where is your girlfriend?” Sloane questions. Pasta sauce is smeared across her face and Rafe knows he’ll be finding it in odd places during bathtime. Y/N takes it upon herself to answer, “Well, Pumpkin, I’m your daddy’s girlfriend.” Silence falls over them and this causes her breath to hitch. Sloane looks between her dad and her gymnastics coach, trying to process what was said. The tension is cut when a massive grin slashes across the toddler’s face and she throws herself into Y/N’s arms. “Yayy! I love you,” Sloane exclaims.

———

The approach of pitter patters causes Y/N to stir. She has been living at Tannyhill for two months now; however, she hasn’t gotten used to having so many people around her. Her eyes flick toward the window to see the moon is still out, so curiosity fills her. The footsteps finally reach her bedside and she feels the poke of a small finger. “Mommy, I had a nightmare,” the three-year-old whispers. Y/N will never tire of hearing Sloane’s new name for her. The mother turns over to see her daughter, “It’s okay, Pumpkin. You can sleep with me and Daddy.” She helps the girl into the bed and nestles the young one between her two parents. The both of them try to go to sleep, yet it doesn’t befall them. “I’m still scared, Mommy,” Sloane informs, cuddling into Y/N’s side. The adult sighs and looks at a bedside table to see a pen. This forms an idea in her mind. She checks to see if her boyfriend is sleeping and he still is. How he can sleep with their movements is beyond her. She reaches for a pen and turns them both toward Rafe’s bare back. He is facing away from them, so his back is a perfect canvas for the two of them. 

The two of them spent the night drawing on his back and giggling. Y/N had no idea how he didn’t wake up throughout the night. However, what the two of them didn’t know was that he had been awake the whole time. He stayed silent because he loved that the two people he loved the most in the world were bonding. So, when he woke up the next morning with new tattoos on his back, he pretended to be surprised and secretly grinned at the quiet laughter the two let out.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[kinardscoffee]

Does anyone else think that Tommy rehearsed what he wanted to say to Buck in the drive over to his loft?

Cause when Buck opens the door, Tommy seems a bit lost in thought to me. He's looking down at the floor. Telling himself that he's Tommy Kinard and he didn't do anything wrong but Eddie told him that something about Buck just seemed off lately and he feels bad because Buck loves the people in his life to the fucking extreme. He'd easily take a bullet for any of them, and he's even put himself in that position multiple times.

So, Tommy decides to stop by Buck's place before he has to go on shift because there's no way he can focus at work knowing Buck feels excluded.

And he has no idea what to say? "Sorry I stole your best friend and his son. I just wanted to feel a millisecond of that happiness you experience on the daily."

He expects to show up, apologize, and explain that he's not a threat and never would or could be.

And it's flowing. The conversation.

Tommy tells Buck that he just wanted to be part of that family atmosphere that the 118 have. Because that's the root of it, isn't it? To be around people who like you for exactly who you are? No expectations.

Tommy has never had that before.

Sure, the people at work include him, but it's a different type of inclusion. He doesn't know the names of their family members, he doesn't sit down with them for "family dinner" like Bobby does.

They are just coworkers. Nothing more.

But those four individuals that asked for his help that night?

They didn't hesitate once to save Bobby and his wife. No questions asked, no confirmation needed. All because someone didn't answer their phone.

Tommy can't help but feel a warm magnetism between them. A silent confirmation that, no matter what, they will always have each other's back at any given time.

And the people THEY love... they're included under that umbrella of certainty and that's where Tommy thinks he fucked up.

Because Buck is under everyone's umbrella.

So, he's honest. Tommy doesn't know how not to be. He tells Buck he was jealous of all those things, and maybe that played a part in how situations unfolded, but that was never directed at Buck.

And then...

Wait.

Buck tells Tommy that he asked for the tour because he wanted to get to know him. Tommy. Buck explains that this whole thing hasn't been him trying to win back his found family, but join them in including Tommy within their unit.

"... 'cause trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting."

That's the jump start to Tommy's brain.

His attention? His?

"My attention?"

All this time, Tommy has been making the first move in the name of camaraderie. He invited Eddie to the fight. He invited him to trivia night.

But Buck was just trying to simply get Tommy to fucking look at him.

And now, in Buck's apartment, listening to Buck rambling about how he's not as cool as Eddie and how he understands why Tommy would prefer to hang out with Eddie...

Tommy sees him.

He acts on that magnetism he's felt from Buck since that first night. He thought, after speaking with Eddie, that it was full of resentment, but now, as he presses their lips together, Tommy thinks that, maybe, this could be something.

And he's ready to try.

[aurae-rori]

DR RATIO ANALYSIS PT 3 BUT IT'S JUST GAY

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, you've done part one, and part two, so why do we need a part three?" The answer is because of two things - one. I made a deal with the Tumblr Peoples that if one of my posts hit more than 50 likes I would do this analysis. Two. Mihoyo is making this shit canon. I CAN'T MAKE THIS UP. So, let's delve into my usual disclaimer, as we might have some new people joining us for the first time with my insanity.

I have been researching psychology personally for about six years, so although I am not a professional (crawling my way there through the education system. I will be one, one day.) I do have some experience with analyzing homosexuals. Psychology hours, my children. They don't call me "chronically cooking" for nothing. Maybe I should change my url to that...

NOW THAT MY LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, LET'S GET INTO THIS! It's time to deconstruct these homosexuals like a modern airplane, because they might as well be taking off with how canon they are.

"It can't be canon," they say, but then Mihoyo DOES PAID SPONSORSHIPS WITH THESE FUCKERS BEING GAY. We've all seen the paid partnership edit. We've all seen the video where Aventurine has the audio of "nice rack" as he talks to Dr. Ratio. PAID SPONSORSHIPS. Now, if that piece of evidence isn't enough for you - let's dive into their actual relationship, which is just a HOMOSEXUAL MESS. I will be focusing more on how Dr. Ratio sees this guy as this is a Dr. Ratio analysis™, but hey, the crumbs.. we eat 'em all. Amen.

Let's start off (I say as I write this part three days later) about how people are like, 'Aven is Ratio's favourite idiot' WRONG. Ratio does NOT consider Aventurine to be an idiot and knows that he is smart and capable in his own right. While Ratio is book smart, Aven is extremely street smart and holds his own very well. Ratio does not consider Aventurine to be an idiot as he takes off his plaster head around him and actually indulges in his whims around him. This is a blatant showcase of fondness because although he is emotionally constipated and can't be affectionate through words without sounding semi-backhanded because he's never had true affection in his life, he showcases his love through actions rather than words. He's just bad at showing love, okay? But he does love Aven. Or like him, to some extent, if you don't want to see them as romantic, which is fine. However, no matter what you label their bond as, it's obvious that they care for one another.

Also, the fucking ZEST FEST that was 'keeping up with Star Rail'. He says, "wait a minute - MUTUAL?" which indicates that he has respect for Aventurine in the first place. He LITERALLY TOLD US that he respects Aventurine and he was commenting on Aventurine's playstyle & everything.. also, at the end, he was here because 'I appreciate this show's dedication to knowledge' - his TONE. Kudos to the VA because that was not convincing at all. Bro was NOT here for the knowledge, bro was here to be GAY!!! Also his little own bathtub couch. We all know Aven bought it for him. Trust, I am John Hoyoverse.

"The Charming Audacity" HUH? BRO? Okay this is hilarious to me because this is the first time that we ever really see them interact with one another, and we get absolutely bitchslapped in the fact that Dr. Ratio calls this guy's audacity 'charming'. That's GAY. That's HOMOSEXUAL.

Also, comparing him to a peacock.. a very beautiful bird.... Must I say more?

Now, the part that I really want to focus on is the part where he gives the Doctor's Note to Aventurine. This shit is important. And I agree with the people who are like - Acheron helped him. Because she did. She was a big part of it and she helped Aventurine get back on his feet in the void. Dr. Ratio is not his only reason to live, but the note, showing that someone will stay by his side? Showing that someone truly cares for him? Someone who's waiting for him when he get back? This bond that he has with Dr. Ratio isn't fake. He already has a starting point to get back to - an anchor to return to. Dr. Ratio is his anchor. Whenever he goes off to do crazy shit, Veritas Ratio will be there when he returns. Because Ratio is loyal. Ratio cares. He cared enough to almost jeopardize their plan to make sure that Aventurine was going to be okay. He cares so damn much about Aventurine that he decided that this man's emotional state after the fake betrayal was more important than all of fucking Penacony.

If you want an example of "I would let the world burn for you," it's Ratio. He's a romantic not in the traditional sense, but he cares and loves Aventurine so damn much it makes my heart hurt. "Do stay alive," he says, knowing that Aventurine struggles with living. Those three words mean the whole fucking world to someone who struggles with suicidal ideation and suicidal thoughts. Someone wants you to live. Someone wants you to stay. Someone wants you by their side.

Dr. Ratio cares. Let me say that again - he cares. He banters with Aventurine, tries to create an environment where Aventurine can feel a little bit more comfortable with the two of them, even in a place as dangerous as Penacony. He will put his own life on the line for Aventurine.

He cares. He cares so damn much. I hate gay people. They make me VIOLENTLY homophobic.

Dr. Ratio after expressing his care indirectly and complimenting Aventurine indirectly: Did I do it?

Aventurine, who has caught none of the hints:

Anyway, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[drdemonprince]

I've noticed a pattern in anticapitalist books I read (specifically I'm talking abt Mark Fisher here, in Capitalist Realism). They do this great anticapitalist analysis etc and then go on to critique their students? and sometimes it's a bit ableist? it's like all the critical thought goes out of the window and they cannot understand the situation because for once suddenly they are in the authoritative position. It always gives me this "I don't understand these kids, back in my day-" vibe, and I see this with lecturers at university too. like Mark Fisher maybe we can think outside the box about your student who "needs" headphones to focus in class "even though no music is playing". and maybe it's not to do with the "Matrix"(????) I'm well aware this was written in 2008 but it's weird that I see this pattern continue today. Not to mention Mark Fisher took part in some ableist studies, and was a guy with questionable intentions on occasion.

it's like you Just said that reducing labour is good why are you calling your students lazy, that's so unprofessional and privileged. I wonder of coincidence that he is anti-meds when his right wing, pro-eugenics, accelerationist friend was addicted to amphetamines.

Or even just the amount of people who have written books about laziness and anticapitalism (excluding you) and just saying the most contradictory shit ever?? or not following their own ideology???

Anyway, I wonder if, when writing Laziness Does Not Exist, you came across any of this and were equally as baffled.

Materialism is just *so* true that high-status academics don't have a vested class interest in seeing their student struggles as legitimate or in recognizing the struggles of disabled people in general. For many edgy academic leftists having the correct opinions is just a way to flex one's intellectual status, not a lived experience they give a shit about. I'm not shitting Fisher in particular in saying this, it's more that it's a really widespread problem in the culture of these kinds of (very white, very academic, very cishet) leftists communities. You see the same kind of thing among some of the Chapo stan types, too, you don't have to be specifically an academic to do it -- lots of people throwing around the r-slur and flexing on how much they have read and doing fuck all for the oppressed people around them. I tend to find it especially common among people who inherited leftism from their (often academic) parents? Whereas leftist communities populated by Black & brown anarchists and working class people tend to fare a lot better in this particular respect.

Note that I'm not saying a person's identities are a guarantee of them being any more radical -- there's lots of liberals lurking in our midsts of all identities for instance -- more that someone's orientation toward power tells you a lot. and unfortunately there is an approach to leftism that puts a lot of stock in either institutional power via the academy, or in a kind of soft power of intellectual authoritativeness that tends to punish anyone who is supposedly less well read, less intelligent, lazy, needs disability accommodations, has trauma triggers, or what have you.

The simple answer is that power and privilege obscures other people's challenges from you, and the desire to preserve one's power (be it actually institutional academic authority or just the status of the person who supposedly knows the most in the room) leads to a lot of oppressive behavior. a lot of these guys that you're talking about believe in communism sincerely but they don't have humility, they believe themselves to be superior to most everyone else. and they tend to be white guys from wealthy families who either do not have any disabilities of their own, or they have the undiagnosed intj mastermind rational flavor of autism that makes you feel incredibly alienated from others but interpret that alienation as a sign of your intellectual superiority. (i had this type but i got better. a little)

[faeridollz]

Virgin reader and older price 🤭🤭

(Not creepily older tho)

Feel free to ignore tho xx

“Such a pretty face <3”

Pairing; older!price x virgin!reader

Cw; price is in late thirties reader is in mid/late twenties ^^

Synopsis; your boyfriend is more than happy to help! But surprise!!! You’re a.. virgin? :(

A/n; kinda long so there’s a divider where nfsw starts!! Also dividers from @rookthornesartistry and @cafekitsune 💋

ˏ ˋ°•*⁀➷ TINDER WAS CERTAINLY NOT A GOOD PLACE TO FIND “LOVE.”

You knew that. But at a party with your friends, you were forced to make an account. “Oh cmon Y/N, you're still single after all this time? You know, Mya found her husband a Tinder, you should download it! You never know, you could find a real hit!” She babbled, and when two more of your friends joined in, you were pure pressured into getting that stupid fucking app.

But.. should you really be that mad? You gained a boyfriend who’s a total dilf minus the kid. It’s pretty nice actually, treated like a princess 24/7 and loved on. You love that he’s older too, he teaches you things.

So when he offers to watch movies with you, who are you to deny? Time with your lovely boyfriend is all you need. Sitting next to him with his hand gently gripping and rubbing your inner thigh. It’s been driving you crazy since this dumb movie started.

“You alright lovie?” He smirks, and you nod. “Yeah.. j-just a bit hot y’know?” Your breathing is heavy, you can’t really focus on the movie. “I understand Lovie.” Grinning, he trailed his thick fingers to your clothed cunt. skirt lifted, providing easy access.

“Wait- price..” you squirm, thighs slamming closed. “What’s wrong?” He freezes. “Price. I’m a virgin..” you’re almost ashamed. You’ve never told him before and you’re saying it now? Ugh, this is so fucking embarrassing. Tearing up a bit

“Hey hey, don’t cry lovie, it’s nothin’ to be ashamed about sweetheart.” He cups your cheek, making you look in his beautiful blue eyes. They make you feel so safe, y’know? Just so calm. And god he’s so soft, husband material but stern when he needs to be. “It’s okay sweetheart, really.”

“Really? You’re not mad or anything?” Your head tilts. “Why would I be mad? That’s absurd lovie.” He chuckled, kissing your cheek. Beard tickling your soft skin. “I dunno, It’s just kinda embarrassing.” You watch as his face falls. “It’s not embarrassing. I was a virgin too once, just like everyone else in the world. So please stop saying it’s embarrassing sweetheart. Because I swear, it’s not.”

He always seems to have a way with his words. It amazes you sometimes. “Tell me you understand sweetheart.” He nods, and you do too. “I understand love. And. I know you said it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but.. Can you uh.. touch me?” You aren’t too shocked when his eyes widen, followed by ‘Are you sure?’ Fuck this is embarrassing.

His finger is thick, it’s expected but you never knew it could feel this good. “Feels good love?” You nod, he wanted to keep watching the movie, but he made sure to keep paying attention to you. Of course, he did. But how the hell did he expect you to pay attention to this movie? What was happening again? Shit.. it’s one finger but it feels so damn good. Curling up on your G-spot, the rope tightening in your stomach, threatening to snap.

“Fuckkk..” you whine, grinding into his hand. Breath quickened when he rubbed on your puffy clit. “I asked a question sweetheart, wouldn’t an answer be nice?” You can almost hear that cocky smile if that was even possible. But it makes you tighten around him, drenching his fingers. “g-good it feels soo~ good” shuddering when he speeds up.

“Ya think another finger would fit?”

“Y-yes- please!” Who knew you could be so whiney? Not you. But price makes you feel so good. And if this is just his finger then what if-

You let out a pathetically loud moan, how the hell did you not notice him putting another one of his thick ass fingers in you? It feels so good though, you. “Bloody hell sweetheart. So fuckin wet right? Feel good?” He nods. Moving slow, then picking up the speed a bit. “M-mhm!” You whine, the rope in your stomach finally snapping and your vision blurring a bit. Coating his fingers in creamy cum. Your cum.

Your gooey walls tighten around his fingers, hand gripping at his arm. “N-Nghhh..” you moan, shuddering as he gently pulls his fingers out of your drenching hole. His fingers were coated in a thin layer of cum. You think you may be hallucinating when he licks his fingers clean. “And tastes fuckin’ magical sweetheart.” He grins, kissing your neck. Your cunt is cold, the wetness attracting the cool air.

“Price.. you’re hard as fuck..” you giggle, his dick making a menacing print in his pants. Was it possible to be that big? You’ve seen it before in the shower and stuff but it was soft then. He’s really a grower.

Safe to say you ended the night with him passionately fucking your puffy cunt. After you followed him to your shared bedroom of course. Whining in his ear as he whispered sweet praises into yours. The prep was good too. Tongue fucking you and rubbing your clit until you were technically brain dead. Giving you time and waiting for the green light to continue. And the aftercare was one of a kind, nothing you shouldn’t expect from a total sweetheart.

He’d set a nice warm bath for you and massage your skin, even if he didn’t fuck you rough at all he’d still take care of you!! :)

I got so carried away ughh!! 😭 but I really liked writing this 😆 reblogs and likes r appreciated!! Also if you too wanna submit an ask I would be more than happy to make you ask come true my love!

[sketchy--akechi]

Shuake/Akeshu Reunion

If you were tasked to make THE Shuake/Akeshu Reunion, how would you write it/how would it play out. How long would Goro have been MIA for, and how would Akira have dealt with it? Give me all your thoughts on this. I wanna know ABSOLUTELY everything on how you'd have them come back together. Would it be them just meeting by chance on day on the street? Or would another Metaverse Shenanigans thing be going on and they would meet that way?

Okay okay okay. First of all. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PICK ONE If we're talking about fics, I love any and all forms of Shuake reunions. Metaverse shenanigans are great but them running into each other at the nearest 7 Eleven is equally as great. Or Akechi randomly showing up at Leblanc one day or in Akira's hometown. Or as part of the Shadow OPs. Seriously shoutout to each and every writer who made a Shuake reunion fic they're all great and I love you all BUT JUST FOR THIS ASK. FOR THE SAKE OF GIVING A COHERENT ANSWER. Let's assume I'm a writer at Atlus for one day and I could write the canon reunion (Atlus please hire me) Then I would really really like to pick up the scrapped idea of an Akechi palace again. Like imagine a new P5 game, about yet another form of the Metaverse appearing and the Thieves investigating, and slowly but surely they realize that they're in Akechi's palace, and Akechi is in a weird state between alive and dead AND THEY HAVE TO SAVE HIM- Ideally it would be a Royal-centric spin-off, so maybe it's just Akira and Sumi rescuing Akechi so there can be a bigger focus on the Royal Trio relationship (no offense to the other Thieves but we got enough spin-off games about them LMAO) I get the feeling that Akira would show his emotions more openly if the other Thieves aren't there, and if there's a reunion after 2/2, I REALLY need it to be emotional ya know, if Atlus portrayed Akira as a blank state self insert during a moment like this when we all know that Akechi was his biggest wish in Maruki's reality then I will. pick a fight

Also I need a hug. I don't care if it's just something like, Akechi falling unconscious and Akira catching him I NEED A HUG I NEED PHYSICAL INTIMACY BETWEEN THEM

I also need a new Metaverse outfit for Akechi based on Hereward because we all know it would slap so hard

THAT'S ALL I HAVE FOR NOW. PLEASE ADD YOUR THOUGHTS BELOW. BE CAREFUL THOUGH OR LIZ WILL HAVE TO MAKE YET ANOTHER GOROGAME

[sportswriters]

dating a rival - j. swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x reader | suggestive, a bit smutty | established relationship | wc: 729 | warnings: swearing, dirty talking, sub!jeremy

welcome post!

dating a rival wasn’t easy. when you had to move from north carolina to boston for a job opportunity, being present as a carolina hurricanes fan became impossible. you cheered from the comfort of your home, missing the energy that only raleigh could build at the pnc arena. game day. you were split between your home team and your boyfriend’s performance. the hardest thing to deal was that jeremy couldn’t help being a fucking great goalie. the bruins weren't doing that well, but jeremy blocked every single shot from the opponent. frustrated groans left your mouth the whole game. no water, no pacing around, no hair grabbing were enough to calm you down.

“fuck. jer, why do you have to be so good?” you muttered, answering yourself seconds after, “yeah, that’s what caught my attention in the first place. fuck.”

he texted you as soon as he finished his interview, so you called him.

“hi, baby! congrats on the win, i’m so proud of you for dealing with the canes all by yourself!”

he laughed, knowing how pissed off you probably were for the loss.

“thank you, love. how are you feeling? don’t pretend to be only happy for me.”

“it was a great game, i’m proud of my other goalie too, okay?” you sighed. “you should come over, i’m gonna get us some food. it’s gonna be delivery, though. i have no brain cells left to cook.”

“no plans on poisoning my food?” he joked.

“i have some plans for you, but none of them are deadly.” you bit your lip, trying to contain yourself. lowering your voice, almost as a whisper, you said:  “come over.”

jeremy froze on the other side of the line.

“okay. be there soon.”

after dinner, you talked about the game from two different perspectives. it was chill, a moment to catch up as a couple, some laughs and all of that. but deep inside jeremy couldn’t stop thinking about the real reason you’d invited him over. couldn’t stop thinking of having you all over him tonight after this win.

“i can see your thoughts working, jer. do you want to say something else?”

“i was wondering if you, hum, if you had something other than dinner in mind.”

you tilted your head, faking a confusion jeremy didn’t notice because of how nervous he was.

“well, in fact, i was thinking of congratulating you. but i didn’t want to jump right into it.”

jeremy nodded.

“do you want that right now?”

he was trying to put himself together, finding it hard to do such a thing when your eagle eyes were watching him like that.

“tell me what you had in mind.”

you got up from your cuddling position to sit on his lap. with a soft caress on his bearded cheek, you said: “i’m really proud of you. i’m proud of how fucking great you were out there.” you gave him a peck, his eyes didn’t lose focus once. “so, this is how it’s going to be… i’m going to give you everything you deserve, you’ll decide what it is. i’ll give you everything you want, jer, because you worked for it.”

you adjusted yourself on his lap, getting a helpless moan from him. he was gone already.

“i need you to tell me what you want, baby, i need your words.” your voice turned into a whisper as you got close to his ear, leaving soft kisses on the side of his neck. “want me to start by sucking your cock? let you go all the way down my throat? or do you want me to slide over it right now? i could let you come inside, you know? i think it’s a proper special occasion.”

you could feel him hardening. all the talking with soft kisses were leaving his mind blurred.

“jer, i need your words. this time it should be all about you, then in my turn i would get what i deserve. don’t you think that’s fair enough?” you grabbed his chin, facing his fucked up expression.

you waited for his response, noticing his every move. it was fun to have him like this once in a while, you were going to enjoy every step of the long way.

“please, just… just kiss me and we’ll go from there, okay?” he gulped. “just fucking kiss me right now.”

[avocadorablepirate]

What Do We Call This? - 07

prev || mini masterlist || next

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: On a quest to find what you've been looking for, you acquire the help of the Straw Hat pirates, who've agreed to let you temporarily join them. There are however many challenges that come along with your temporary recruitment - an alliance with a certain Trafalgar Law being one of them.

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn, swearing, the occasional OP spoiler, they're both kinda mean to each other in this one

A/N: I don't know whether this series has a great flow, and honestly I don't know how well I've portrayed Law's character, but that's okay cause I'm very happy with how this chapter turned out <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>. I hope you like it too!

—⁠☆✿☆—⁠

Having boarded Law's ship you trail behind him into the submarine, leaving his crew and the Straw Hats on the deck. While you mindlessly followed him, you took note of the stark difference between the Polar Tang and the Thousand Sunny. Although it seemed a lot more cold, the grey metal walls of the submarine also offered a sense of security in their own way, the faint beeping noises oddly comforting.

Shifting your focus from the walls back to the man walking in front, you called out to him when you realised he hadn't noticed you following, or at least hadn't bothered to acknowledge your presence. On hearing his name Law slowly turned to face you.

"So what did you need my assistance with?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity. From the time you had spent with him, you knew that when it came to planning, Law was always two steps ahead of the rest. So maybe his plan required you to be in Wano, or maybe he required your assistance with something on his submarine.

"You'd only hurt yourself more if you went with Straw Hat-ya to retrieve Black-Leg. It's better for you this way."

Or maybe not.

"Really? So, that whole needing my assistance thing was a lie?" His lack of a response was enough of an answer.

"I can take care of myself Law. I don't need you constantly watching over me like I'm some child," you assert, ready to storm off before your frustration escalated. But before you can retreat, an all too familiar blue aura envelopes you. "Law-" you try to protest to his actions but your words fall on deaf ears.

"Room."

"Shambles."

The room shifts to what looks like the infirmary of the Polar Tang, and you find yourself already seated on the white matress of a surgical bed as Law shuts the door to the room. Before you can inquire about his intentions, he answers your unspoken question.

"You haven't changed your bandages since we left Dressrosa," he remarks, pulling out a gauze wrap from a drawer and positioning himself in front of you.

"I changed them yesterday," you counter, but this only leads him to roll his eyes, "Clearly, you didn't do a good job of it," he chides, gesturing at the gauze that had been haphazardly wrapped around your torso. In your defense, you were in a bit of a hurry. Robin had found some books in Zou that she thought you would like, and you were all too eager to read them (plus, lingering in the infirmary for too long risked someone seeing your wounds)

"They don't need to be changed. I'm fine. It's all healed." You once again try to convince him, but you're met with a stern look this time. "Just because filling yourself up with alcohol and sleeping every chance you get numbs the pain, does not mean you're healed."

You're caught off guard by Law's reply. Though you think to yourself that maybe you should have known that someone like the Surgeon of Death, who knew how your devil fruit worked would notice that your consumption of alcohol and constant need to sleep were clear signs of you trying to distract yourself from the pain. Evidently, you had no memory of what you had said to him a few nights ago.

"Law-" you once again try to protest, but he's already removing the bandages, and you wince as his hand lightly grazes your side. He looks at you confused, your wounds shouldn't hurt just from this, he thinks to himself, and quickly but gently removes the rest of the gauze. His expression changes from one of confusion to frustration as he looks from the fresh blue-black bruises spattered across your torso to you.

"How did this happen?" he asks, and you shift in your seat, biting down on your lip as you contemplate telling him or not.

"How did this happen?" he spits through gritted teeth, and you shift your gaze away from him, at the same time realising that he wouldn't relent until you gave him an explanation.

"Some of the Minks were still injured before we left Zou, and Chopper wasn't around, so I helped them."

You notice his fists clench and unclench in response to your answer, a sign that he was trying to control his emotions. You choose to slowly meet his gaze as he takes a deep breath before letting out a sigh, already anticipating your response to his next question, "Why didn't you call me?"

"You were meeting your crew after so long, I didn't want to bother you."

He tries to remain calm, but your answer only fuels his frustration. His fists clench once again and he bangs them into the table causing you to flinch. Law's hands now enclose you on either side, his head bent down, so that his hat just about covers the way he's clenching his jaw.

"Why are you always finding ways to hurt yourself?" he murmers, his voice barely above a whisper. But he doesn't give you a chance to repond, "Do you care so little about your life?"

"It's just a few bruises," you respond, and this time he meets your gaze, his grey eyes laden with emotion.

"I don't understand," Law pauses, his anger mounting. "Why!? Why do you not care about your own well-being!? Why do you insist on helping people who've never done shit for you!?"

His words strike a nerve, and you scoff. You can only assume that he's referring to the Straw Hats. Your own emotions are starting to get the best of you, and you throw him a glare of your own, "What the fuck do you know!?" you yell back. Law's taken aback by your outburst, but is quick to regain his 'composure'. However, you don't give him time to respond.

"You know absolutely nothing about me Law, and you have no fucking idea what I've been through and what these people have done for me! So stop trying to protect me!" You grab at the gauze wrap and try to push him aside, but he doesn't budge. His hands grip tightly at the white sheets of the surgical bed, but he doesn't say anything.

"Move Law," you command, but his grip only strengthens, his knuckles turning white.

"I know enough about you to know that you knew Cora-san, and that's enough of a reason for me to protect you."

Law's jaw relaxes, but he remains silent and unmoving, reverting to his stoic demeanour as he waits for some sort of reaction from you, or maybe deliberates over what to say next. You're taken by surprise at first, not knowing how to react to his revelation. But the emotions are quick to come back, and your frustration with him that has been unknowingly brewing over the past month refuses to back down from this confrontation.

"Then you know that he wanted both of us to keep living. Yet you were ready to give your life in exchange for bringing down Doflamingo. So, don't fucking come to me about not caring about mine," you retort with more spite than you intend, your words almost like venom to Law. But you're far too infuriated to take them back. With one final shove you manage to push past him.

"(Y/N)-ya," he calls out to you, attempting to sound firm, but the tremble in his voice is unmistakable.

"I think it's best if we keep our distance," you mumble more to yourself as you walk out the door, leaving Law behind.

_______________________________________________

A/N: This was actually supposed to be longer, but I decided not to include the next part cause it would kinda downplay this part and just lose the drama. So y'all are going to have to wait till next week for them to maybe make up :⁠-⁠P.

taglist: @trafalgardaria @deathsmajestysworld

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor Pt. 6

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Five more years of victordom have passed, but the Capitol is still throwing surprises at you. This time, in the from of

Part Five

A/N: SURPRISE! This is coming back because I felt like it and some lovely folks left comments recently ♥️ we can blame my absence on this semester, but thank putting off a 14 page final paper for this bout of productivity! (Also I was going for a ranch vibe with this pic? I'll start putting his face back on these soon lol)

Warnings: description of blood

Tears welled in your eyes as you finished dicing yellow onions, and you wiped your face with the back of your arm as you turned to scrape them into the pot. Caesar Flickerman’s voice floated in from your living room, the TV playing in the background so you could keep an eye on the quarter quell special. Count on Caesar to draw the whole thing out, emphasizing the significance of the anniversary and whatnot. You couldn’t help but be curious, though. The last quarter quell had fifty tributes, and you weren’t even alive to see it. You had, however, seen its effects on your occasional drinking buddy, so you were certain this year would be a doozy. 

It seemed Caesar was finally getting to the point as you began chopping a red pepper. He introduced the President, and your hand tightened around the knife as Snow began his address. That voice haunted your dreams, and hearing it at home was far more unpleasant than anywhere else. You did your best to tune him out. That was, until he announced it. 

“As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this, the third quarter quell games, the male and female tribute are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.” 

Your ears began to ring, and suddenly, you couldn’t hear the rest. Existing pool of victors. Existing pool of victors. Sharp pain brought your vision back into focus, and you blinked to find blood from the backs of your knuckles spilling over your pepper. Though your brain stopped moving, your hands hadn’t. 

You took a silent step back from the counter, staring at the ruined cutting board. Tearing your gaze away, you started rifling through cupboards trying to find a towel. The ironclad grip your dominant hand kept on the knife wasn’t helping, but it certainly hadn’t occurred to you to let it go. Out of options, you shoved your hand under the faucet and watched water carry excess blood away.

Vaguely, you registered the pain in your hand as your water heater got to work, but your eyes stayed locked on the drain. A loud ring of the phone startled you out of your reverie, to the point where you’d launched your still-dirty kitchen knife into the wall next to it. But it pointed you in the direction of some towels, at least, and you snatched a clean one from the laundry basket on the stairs. 

Sat on the second to last stair, you hunched over to wrap your hand. The world felt surreal as you stared at your shoddily covered wound, only looking up when your door burst open. You weren’t surprised to see Darla. Her scraped knees, bloody nose, and breathlessness didn’t shock you either. She probably fell when running over, but you were sure you looked just as frazzled. Grabbing her a towel from the basket, you nudged her with it before she could sit. 

“Answer Finnick.” 

She picked the phone up from the receiver, doing a double take when she registered the kitchen knife. 

“Howdy,” she huffed, licking her top lip and clearing some blood. 

You could barely hear Finnick’s resigned tone from the other end. “Hey, D,” he breathed. “How’s…” he trailed off. 

“Well, there’s blood on the cabinets,” your head popped up when she said it. You hadn’t even noticed the trail you’d left in your wake, “Water on the floor, and a knife in the wall.”

The faucet was still on, too, and you definitely hadn’t turned off the stove. It was a relatively generous assessment from her. 

“Will you put her on?” 

Darla stuck the phone straight in your face. When you grabbed it she reached for another towel, and pushed it along the floor with her foot. 

“Finnick,” your tone was almost too even for the circumstance. 

“Don’t do it,” Finnick warned, knowing you far too well. 

“Save it,” you shot right back, “I know you’re thinking it too.” 

“I don’t have a choice,” he said firmly. "They all have kids. Who would I be if I didn’t?” 

Though Darla was busy cleaning up after your spell, you weren't stupid enough to think she wasn't listening. “You know I feel similarly,” you chose your words carefully. 

Finnick did know, he’d seen what you’d given up for Darla. How you’d put yourself through the wringer for years just to spare her. He had no doubt you’d act just the same now. Only he didn’t want you to. He would’ve hated seeing Darla in there, but he’d be a dead man if you were in the arena with him. Your stubbornness didn’t stop him from making a final plea. 

His soft call of your name cut your heart worse than you’d cut your hand. Suddenly, you could no longer bear speaking to the man who’d been your constant for the past five years. “I’ll talk to you soon. I’ll see you soon, Fin. Take care of yourself.” You stood and shoved the phone back on the receiver before he could say another word. Talking to him, thinking about him, neither would help you hold yourself together. 

You stepped away from the phone, but stopped in your tracks to look at the knife. Some of your blood still lingered. 

“Leave it,” Darla called from the kitchen, “it’s a bold new piece of decor.” She’d taken up interior design in the wake of her victory. You shook your head with a tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lip. 

Coming to her side, you both looked down into the pot she’d taken off the stove. Burnt onion wouldn’t make much of a base. “There’s leftover pasta in the fridge,” you offered, sadly. 

“Yes please,” she nodded quietly. You passed behind her to heat some up, and she settled onto one of the stools at your counter. It took you a minute one-handed, but Darla seemed too absorbed in quiet reflection to care. 

She dug in as soon as you slid her a bowl, but you stopped short before sitting down with your own. She raised a brow. 

“I’ll be back,” you shook your head, taking your dish and slipping on shoes. The wind whisked straight through your clothes as you crossed the street. 

Darby had never been close with you, nor Darla. He was there when she won, and you could tell he was somewhat relieved to only bring home one casket. But you weren’t close enough for him to tell you that, because he wasn’t your trainer.

He wasn’t even there when you’d won. The story was that Darby was too ill. It was true, only the illness was drug induced. District Ten had only one trainer that year. 

The woman who had trained Darby had trained you, and you were the last District Ten victor she’d lived to see. Sam was kind but incredibly sharp. Gentle, yet challenging. Observant and astute, she’d assessed you for all you were and marketed a more palatable version to the good citizens of the Capitol. Beyond helping you survive the games, she helped you navigate the aftermath. Without Sam and without your Nana, you wouldn’t have lasted a month outside the arena. She picked you up and dusted you off again and again like your mother had when you were a girl who thought she was invincible. No time had hurt as badly as losing your first tributes, though, but Sam saw you through that too. 

Before your second try at mentoring, however, she’d died. A horseback riding accident was the official story, but Sam had left the leather watch she loved at your house just before. She insisted on doing the dishes after you’d made dinner, and you later found it by the sink. Sometimes you swore you caught glimpses of her long silver braid. Each time it happened, you opened the drawer of your nightstand to stare at her watch.

Her death hit Darby hard, they’d been the only two Ten victors for a while. He hardly held it together during Darla’s games. Afterwards, he fell apart.

You’d been mentoring with Darla ever since, comforting her with each loss as Sam had with you. But you knew Darby had seen this announcement, and everyone in the district knew what it meant. 

You stood at his door a few minutes after knocking. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you felt compelled to come over anyway.  

A blue eye peaked from where the door had finally opened a crack. You held up the still-steaming bowl as an offering. Darby pulled the door fully open and stalked off into his house. Trailing after him, and closing the door behind you, you noticed how skinny he’d gotten since you’d last seen him. 

“Thanks,” he said, raspy, when he took the bowl from you finally. You could only nod. 

“I’m sorry,” you offered, knowing full-well how little it meant. Darby only sighed and shook his head. 

He shrugged, stabbing a fork firmly into the bowl. “I always had that feeling,” he shook his head. Your brows furrowed in confusion, and he went on, “that it wasn’t over. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. They own us, of course they’d want us back.” 

His passe tone rattled you. You nervously wiped your non-covered palm on your pants, “Right.” You looked around his dusty home awkwardly, “Well, see you soon.” Trying to leave him in peace and for your own, you made for the exit. 

“I’ll say hi to Sam for you,” he said from behind you, mouth full. It stopped you in your tracks. You couldn’t even look back at him. 

“Thanks.” 

————————

The months leading up to the reaping were hellish, with you and Darla trying to shed your rustiness. You insisted you both throw your all into prepping for this, but that was mostly a ruse. Volunteering for her had been your plan since the announcement. At the very least, you enjoyed your time at home with her. You hadn’t gotten any calls about trips to the Capitol, and Finnick told you he hadn’t either. At least they were letting you enjoy your last few months alive. 

As Winter went, and Spring too, the day had finally come. Off to die for the second time. 

You zipped the fly on a pair of jeans you hadn’t ever worn. Your stylists had shoved them in your closet a long time ago- since they looked exactly like the ones you’d won in. The head gamemaker your year had a background in fashion, and gave tributes plenty of chances to change dirty or worn clothes in for unique ones.  People loved the look so much that denim had been a brief Capitol fashion trend. You figured it’d send a message to anyone who knew. After all, you’d cheated death in these once, you could do it again. 

You were up early, and since you and Darla had agreed to arrive separately, you took a long walk around your home district. Your long lap, with sights you’d grown up loving and smells you’d always scrunched your nose at, was met with a few pitying glances. Eventually, it lead you to the Justice Building, and you took an extremely early seat. People took their places as the hours passed. 

"Remember, it’s just for show," Sam’s voice rang in your head. It was the last thing she said to you before you entered the arena. 

“Hey,” your head snapped to your right where Darla took her seat. She looked tense. You took her hand and squeezed it, a silent reassurance. It’s not you. You’ll be ok. I’ll miss you. 

The district filed in for the ceremony, unusually unorganized. The only people the Peacemakers were concerned about policing, however, were already on stage. 

Your annoyingly vibrant district escort began the ceremony, and you ignored her for as long as you could bear it. “Ladies first,” you blinked to attention, head held high. This was it. Dug your nails into your palm to stop your hands from shaking. You swallowed. I volunteer as tribute. You willed the words to the front of your brain, hopefully convincing your mouth to form them when the time came. 

But you didn’t have to. She had called your name. You willed your face to remain impassive as you squared your shoulders. You forced yourself to take a proud step forward. Perception was everything here. You couldn’t look weak, not to the capitol, and not to your fellow tributes. 

“I volunteer as tribute!” 

Your well-crafted mask fell with the words. Shoulders sank as you turned to her in shock. Not once did you think she’d volunteer for you. But you could almost hear Finnick’s voice reminding you how similar you were. It was why you got along like a house on fire. Only, this time you had been so recklessly loyal to her you’d miscalculated. And it would almost certainly cost your tribute her life. 

“Darla,” you breathed, quiet enough for only her to heard, and sharp enough for it to come across as scolding. 

She didn’t even turn your way. 

You were escorted straight to the train before Darby could even be picked by default. The new (old) District Ten tributes were escorted straight to the train as well. Only then could you confront your mentee. 

“What the fuck was that?!” You stood in a rage. She walked right past you toward the couches, but you caught her wrist.  

“You don’t get to scold me for saving your life,” she shook her head, and tugged her wrist free.

“Sure I do, when you’ve acted like a fool! It was random, D! We agreed to let it be random!” 

“Oh, that’s rich!” She scoffed. 

“Excuse me?!” 

“You’re still lying! You really think I didn’t know you were going to volunteer for me?” Darla asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. She fell back onto the couch. 

You stepped back, anger fully dissipated. “What?” 

“You hung up on Finnick nearly every time I’d walk in,” she shrugged, “you’re brave not subtle.”

Your shoulders sagged, and you lowered yourself onto the luxurious Capitol sofa next to her. For a second, you let your head fall into your hands. 

“Still,” you persisted, looking straight ahead, “it was going to be me. You didn’t have to-“ 

“I know what all you’ve done for me,” she said simply. You sat straight up, finding her face with wide eyes. No.

“Finnick?” He wouldn’t. 

“Johanna,” she shook her head. Your shoulders sagged. It made sense that Johanna knew, she was almost in the same situation. And you wouldn’t have expected them to keep things from each other, not before they broke up at least. 

“Darla,” you started. Why hadn’t she confronted you when she found out? How long had she been holding on to this knowledge? Did she think differently of you? 

“You’ve been falling on your sword for me for five years,” Darla said solemnly, “it’s high time I took it away from you.” 

Your stomach ached, and tears blurred your vision, “D.” 

She pulled you in for a hug when your voice broke. “You gave me my life back,” she whispered, “I’m only doing the same.” 

You pulled away from her, wiping vigorously at your face. “I won’t watch you lose.” 

She sniffled a wry laugh, “then make me win. Maybe this time it'll stick.” 

————————————————————

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Sorry if you no longer want to be tagged and sorry for this formatting (Tumblr is confusing and it's the only way the tags would work?) ! Let me know and I'll remove you from (or add anyone who wants to be on) the list

[animentality]

not to be a boomer, but I do worry about the current generation of kids being raised with iPads.

first off. some of them literally can't hold a pencil because their parents never gave them physical toys to grip and play with, developing their fine motor skills.

you might ask why do we even need to learn how to write physically anymore- well, frankly, because if you're stranded on an island somewhere and you need to write HELP, you might not have the strength to hold a pencil, but you can at least hold a stick.

but on a more general note.

writing by hand helps you remember things better. it forces you to focus in a way that typing something word for word does not. a person can transcribe what a professor says without even thinking about it.

someone writing notes has to consider what to write and what to omit. it also activates more parts of your brain, forcing you to flex the parts of your brain related to learning and communicating, while also engaging the part of your brain dedicated to muscle control and precision.

but in general, I think the issue isn't even oh technology is bad and kids are getting dumber.

you can have PowerPoints AND take physical notes. that could help you learn even better than the olden days where you just had to remember everything that was thrown at you. or read very limited, out of date books.

the problem is that the generation that raised/is raising this generation of children just doesn't understand the true impact that all this technology will have on their kids. or they just don't care.

because our generation had the internet yes, but it wasn't widely accessible for most of us, sharing our computers with the entire family in the kitchen. it was also the internet in its infancy, where it wasn't quite so predatory, when it was lawless and disturbing, yes, but it wasn't weaponized by corporations trying to sell you things and steal your data, it wasn't flooded with bots and ai and all sorts of things that the human brain can't even distinguish as real or fake, especially when you're just a little kid.

that generation still played with physical toys. we celebrated when it snowed and we could stay home.

we also came from a gen that still, vaguely, cared about some form of community and had third spaces for kids to hang out.

90s children, who still had some memories of both playing outside on a playground and playing Mario Kart on the Nintendo 64 with their friends, who both went out to the mall and had a club penguin account.

we grew up with laptops and smart boards. maybe some of us had them in high school or college, but we still physically went to class and developed relationships. learned uncomfortable things about ourselves and others, the way humans do.

met new people and were exposed to new ideas, away from our parents. but not from some fucking influencer trying to sell us Sephora products.

we had to study for things, instead of just being able to Google shit for some bullshit online test.

which is also something that really concerns me. so many kids today can so easily Google answers for every test, and while tests don't ultimately matter in the real world, they still provide some basis for things that do matter.

like I'm just imagining medical students googling how to perform an appendectomy on the day of, and just using a YouTube tutorial to guide them through, and shuddering.

there are some things that the Internet can't teach you.

there always will be.

but I don't think my generation is really helping their kids find the balance that we were given naturally growing up.

the boomers and gen xers had fist fights and we had bullying someone online until they committed suicide.

and now kids use AI to spread fake nudes of girls.

but the laws haven't caught up with a lot of this stuff yet, and certainly won't while we have dinosaurs running our government. and culture takes even longer to change than laws.

I also worry because I know how badly covid affected kids worldwide. how they struggle to read and do math, because remote learning just isn't good for kids.

and I can't even blame them!! I literally teleworked for 4 years and even I can admit that I'm not nearly as good at focusing at home as I am in the office.

it's hard for kids with social anxiety and disabilities, yes I know, I know, trust me, I have social anxiety, and as a hybrid worker ATM, I highly doubt I'd be able to handle 5 days a week in the office.

but it's also not particularly good for kids to stay home ALL the time, entertaining themselves in their room and never being challenged, and never meeting people other than their parents.

the iPad is more of a symbol of that problem than the direct problem.

if your entire... world view is limited to what you can see on your iPad... I mean what a terrible world view you'll have.

you're a 10 year old using TikTok and all you ever see is the same opinion over and over until you can scarcely comprehend people who have an opposing opinion.

you see fake videos that seem so real. that must be real, and so comforting, aren't they, those videos that seem so real?

you let 30 year old influencers who are trying to grift people shape your world view.

and it's not even your fault.

your parents aren't doing anything to help you.

you're young and you're being barraged with entertainment and fake educational videos and how to guides that accidentally create mustard gas in your toilet.

your parents should be teaching you to find a balance between these things. they should be telling you what's real and caution you about the things you see.

they should limit your fucking time on the iPad actually. take you to a fucking park and let you roll in the mud or some shit.

and then when you're a teenager and a young adult, then you can start deciding for yourself what you believe.

but a lot of these weird millennial/gen z parents, man. just let your 1 year old scroll through vids on TikTok while you don't even talk to them or look at them once.

maybe it's because they don't see the harm in it, but I don't get it.

adults can watch TikTok all day and know, ahhh this is bad for me. I'm not doing anything I actually want to be doing.

adults can see other adults doing dumb shit and say ah you're sponsored. someone paid you money to say and do that. silly.

but kids are just kids.

they don't have discipline and frankly, that's not their responsibility. that is yours.

you should be teaching them that they can't have everything in life at their finger tips at all times, actually.

the iPad doesn't solve all of your problems, nor will it think critically for you.

so I worry about if humanity can really keep up with its own technology.

our species is still in its infancy, believe it or not.

so maybe these are just growing pains, and future generations will be able to look back on this era and know the proper balance.

but as someone living in 2024.

I wonder just how much pain is left before we really mature and either make it or break it.

[coffe-and-tea-time]

KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP! KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP!!!

HEHEHEHEHEHE I WAS WAITING TO COOK THIS

Coffee insanely speaking! Thanks Dear, you gimme the perfect excuse to write a second part just in time although I expected the option of talking to him to come first. Not that I'm complaining lol

Post where this suggestion came from

↪︎ ☾ I love to see you ....................................... .......................................☆ I love to hear you↩︎

TW: yandere behavior, delusions, murder of self-preservation, stalking, obssesion, somewhat willing reader, kinda denying of bad decisions

Of course, the best option is to stay still, not because you are enjoying this no no, of course not...

Despite his soft voice that sounds rather familiar, you can't really recall who or where. So the safest option is just giving in at the moment, you didn't know how he could react so the safer the better, isn't it?

A smile starts creeping on your face against your will, seems like you are a rather bad actor when it's required, huh? 

“Oh, I'm really glad, you seem like you're finally having a good dream… will it be too greedy if I want to be inside that little dream of yours? Well, if you find that greedy, you won't be able to handle me later”

Hearing a close mouthed giggle following the whisper makes your heart flutter softly, like this is some kind of really romantic scene in his mind. You were able to hear the faint sound of footsteps, he seems like he's doing a little room tour, making it a little hard to hear him.

“Oh Dear, you were researching that thing again?”

It seems like he found his way into your phone, what was he referring to?

“Why do you keep reading so much about romance? Are these words good enough to keep your focus?... Maybe I have to start practicing oral expression? It's been a while since I felt like that, last time was when you downloaded that stupid dating sim… This is truly irritating, the names they use, the way they ‘communicate’ to you; do no justice, I can express myself way better, my love, and how my eyes change when I see you walking by… just... please, I need only one chance, and I promise you won't have a room left for doubts”

Even though he made the effort to lower his voice in order to 'not wake you up', it's clear how his tone is changing with every word depending on the topic; First, a low hint of infatuation, then, what sounds closer to a plead and, finally,...was that...hopelessness?

Honestly, in a normal situation, you would be annoyed by someone searching through your phone but only an idiot would think this man would judge you even if you had pictures of dead people there, more like he's genuinely looking for more of you, despite the fact that it's really not the ‘proper’ way, you can't say it didn't work.

“My beloved Cherry, what can i do for you to talk to me? Those characters seem to steal your attention quickly… I would be lying if I sad I'm not a little hopeful because of them though, you seem to have quite the specific taste, Cherry, and I believe I fit perfectly on them... if only I could find the right moment to get into your routine, to be part of your life…”

Weird that he worries about getting to talk to you with an ideal scene but not worrying about stalking you, but maybe it's kind of understable? Since well, everyone likes to check on their crush on social media even if they take a while to actually talk, even if this guy took it a little too far, he sounds... harmless like his wish is just to win your affection…

wait a second…

Are you truly relaxed in this kind of situation? What is going on with you? Why? Why… well, can't say you didn't ask for this, even as a joke, you know this time is different because it's real, but… why does reality feel like a fantasy right now? Is it because of him?

“Huh, I come here as a routine by now, I still get the same queries, I’m dying to find the answers soon..”

Sensing that lightly sweet fragrance once more makes you know he’s approaching your ‘sleeping’ form once again, making it easy to hear him despite his constant whispering.

“Would you let me cuddle you? Would you let me kiss you? Would you mind if I were clingy? Would you mind if I get jealous? Would you mind if it seems like I already know more about you than I should? I want to hold you my dear, I can’t wait for the day I can just snuggle with you every time we want… I really can’t wait anymore, I need to be closer to you… I guess I have no option other than to talk to you out of the blue, I dislike to be so imprudent, but I promise I will make up for it once you accept me in your life, Love”

You feel a gentle hand slightly caress your cheek as a little peck is placed on your forehead, making you almost smile like a fool if it weren’t for the fact that pretending to sleep is your priority in this sweet moment, unexpected but called for moment.

“Sweet dreams Cherry, I have to prepare what I should say tomorrow, I will put all of my efforts to be my best self to make a good first impression, I hope I snatch enough of your interest to be on your mind even for a moment”

Oh, he is definitely gonna be stuck in your mind for a while, as you try your best to focus on the sounds, you catch his steps as he seems to walk away… but you keep up with your act just in case.

So, tomorrow, huh? Seems like once again you have important decisions in your hand, should you indulge in your fantasy and let him get near you? It also sounds fun to go to him first… But, maybe you should try to avoid him? It’s the safer choice, but do you really want that? He seems safe enough not to raise any of your flags, he seemed so caring for you…

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

[chocor0se]

excerpt from my reverse robins tim-centric au where tim dies and stephanie tries to kill the joker (it doesn’t work out)

Bruce couldn’t help it as he fell on his hands and knees, pain surging through his body. He needed to get to the Joker before he could recover, Tim would want him to focus on the mission.

He could barely move though, the paralyzation drug was still exiting his body. Bruce tried moving his hand so he could reach for his com and ask for backup(begrudgingly), when Spoiler came down from the previously broken skylight of the abandoned warehouse.

“Spoiler,” He said, voice raggedy, “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here.” Steph didn’t answer, her eyes focused on the Joker’s body as he slowly raised himself up. Shit, Bruce had to get to the Joker fast.

Bruce willed himself to his feet as Steph stared down at the Joker’s smiling face, and that’s when he saw what was in her hand. A gun.

“Spoiler, what are you doing?” He was ignored, again.

Steph slowly lifted the gun, preparing to shoot. The Joker grinned,

“Well well well, looks like one of your little bats has a screw loose, just like me!” The Joker could barely move, he was still on his knees and yet he smiled like he was the one in control here. “Well, do it Spoiler. Shoot me.”

Stephanie’s gaze turned violent, “You..you killed him. You killed my best friend,”

The Joker laughed at her rage, “I honestly expected better than the fight he put off, I guess the little bat was never really good at flying was he?”

“Shut up, shut up!” Spoiler yelled at him, “You killed him, so I’m returning the favor!” She released the safety.

“Spoiler!”

Bruce watched helplessly, his body still-though he didn’t know if it was from the drug or the shock-as he saw Steph aim, and fire.

BANG

The shot echoed throughout the building like a crash of thunder. The Joker staggered as he touched the bullet wound, straight through his right thigh. Even from a distance Bruce saw Steph’s shaking hands.

“Ha! Hahahahahah! I guess even you don’t have the guts to do it, kid,” The Joker giggled, “But seriously, what a show! The way you were so determined to kill me, and you don’t even-“

Black Bat appeared behind him suddenly, knocking the Joker out and handcuffing him. Bruce let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Cass walked up to Bruce, putting his arm over her shoulders to help him walk. He looked over to Spoiler, but she was gone.

The two bats looked at each other, then the Joker. The GCPD would take care of him, they had a bat to catch.

It took about an hour and a half, but they found her on a rooftop a few streets away. Barely anyone lived in the area, and even less worked there at night.

Steph was sitting on the ledge, her legs dangling over the roof. Her mask and hood were off, revealing the fragile girl underneath.

“Let me guess,” She said, as they had made their presence on the roof clear, “A lecture on why I have to keep the mask on at all times to protect my identity plus one about why we don’t kill?”

Bruce didn’t respond, he didn’t really know how to.

Cass did.

She walked up and sat on the ledge as well, pulling Steph in for a hug.

“Hugs make everyone feel better.”

“Not me.”

“…”

“..Maybe a little.”

Bruce walked closer to his two girls, placing a hand on Steph’s shoulder.

“I,” Steph started, “I wanted to kill him so bad. I was so ready to shoot him in the head, let him burn in hell. But Tim’s stupid voice kept ringing in my head,” She wiped her eyes with a broken smile on her face, “Bats don’t kill. Killing isn’t the right way to do things. He always followed the rules that he thought were right.”

Steph stood up, shrugging Cass away. She was trying not to cry, but tears kept spilling out of her eyes, “Why couldn’t I do it? He killed my best friend, I should’ve done it. I-I-“

Listen Bruce, I’m saying this because I’m dead now, so you won’t have me to help you with this. Please don’t close yourself off. People need you. Your…our family needs you. Don’t be the cold, emotionless Batman or the violent, angry one.

Be the one who took in Duke Thomas after his parents were jokerized, the one who took in Damian, and Steph and Cass and however more kids you’re gonna gain in the future. Please, Dad. I love you, meeting everyone was the best thing that ever happened to me. Goodbye.

Bruce took off his cowl, interrupting Steph’s sentence. And finally, he let himself cry with her. He saw Steph’s shock as the tears started dripping down his face. Tim’s death had broke him, but he would put himself back together for the ones that had broke alongside him.

He could see Steph’s walls break down, and she started bawling. Her face red as she screamed and cried and all Bruce could do was pull her in for a hug, and that was enough for now.

Cass joined them seconds later, her crying less violent but still noticeable. The three broken bats stayed like that for a while, just themselves and their tears accompanying them.

Later Steph would tell Bruce that she couldn’t be Spoiler anymore.

“I made Spoiler with him,” she would say, “And without him I don’t know if I could do it again. Don’t get me wrong though, I’ll still be a vigilante. Tim wouldn’t want me to quit because of him.”

“Then who will you be?” Bruce would ask her.

“…My favorite color’s purple, that’s why my costume’s purple. His favorite color was red.” She’d take a deep breath before continuing, “I’m going to become the Red Hood.”

Bruce would stay quiet a few seconds before replying, “Alright then. I will support you in whatever you need.”

And that’s how the Red Hood was born.

…

Far, far away, Timothy Drake-Wayne would kill his first person, and he would never be the same again.

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

❧ prompt:  "Why are you so worked up?" "Because they wouldn't stop fucking staring at you like they wanted to eat you." From here.

❧ the act’s performers: kiyoomi sakusa x f!reader

❧ wc: 1.7k

❧ warnings: swearing, jealousy, kissing, insecurity (let me know if I missed stuff)

❧ a/n: just a little something lolol idk I hope ya'll like it!

"You're not my type."

"And you think you're mine?"

Sakusa Kiyoomi could not believe the conversation he was forced to participate in. A mixture of disgust and amusement contorted his features at the woman staring up at him with a devious glint in her irises. Over the last year, it was almost nonstop bickering between the two of you. Well, according to Atsumu it was flirting on your end and bickering on his friend's end.

To be honest, a study needed to be conducted on why your presence alone could drive the wing spiker to insanity. From the way you would push past his physical boundaries without hesitation to the siren-like expressions, you would toss his way during class. It stripped him of his rationality and delivered him straight to madness.

All he wanted was to focus on college and volleyball, and yet sometimes all he could focus on was you.

"If I'm not your type, why do you only bother me?" The black-haired male surveyed your face for a nonverbal answer to his question. However, as always, he was greeted with a flirtatious bat of your lashes rather than a clue as to what was going on in that head of yours.

"How are you so certain that I only bother you?" Bringing your index finger to your mouth, you lightly bit down on your nail with a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. Your answer evidently caught the male off guard, as there was a momentary crack in his usual nonchalant demeanour. "How arrogant of you to think you're the only one."

"If you have other toys, go bother them instead. I'm busy." Sakusa shifted his gaze away from you, with tension applying to his jawline. He had to bite back the urge to pout. Where was his mask again? Why did you have to catch him in a moment when he was shieldless?

"Really? You won't miss me, pretty boy?" The hand that was once near your mouth was now extended so that you could guide his attention back to you. To both of your surprise, he did not stop you immediately when your finger applied light force on his chin. Though once his dark eyes landed on yours, he was prompt in swatting your hand away.

"First, don't call me that. Second, why would I miss you?" The volleyball player's words were coated in venom, but he ignored the bitter taste. It was nothing in comparison to the emotion flooding his chest right now.

And the last thing he wanted to admit was that his heart was drowning in jealousy.

"Okay, pretty boy. Just remember... Be careful what you wish for." After dipping an eyelid into a wink, a harmonic laugh follows your words as you step away from the male.

Sakusa instantly regretted his choice of words, and yet all he could do was glare in response.

****

Silence and peace accompanied Sakusa for the following two weeks, along with bright warm spring days. His volleyball team even secured a win against their rival, one that had the hallways of the college buzzing in excitement. But the male could not find himself satisfied with his victory - not when someone was missing from the stands. A certain someone who attended his every game to shamelessly flirt and ward off the fangirls.

It was becoming progressively clearer just how much your absence impacted his daily life. Just how much he did not truly care for quiet days. And just how much he missed your mischievous mannerisms.

Atsumu practically snapped at his team-mate on day 13 - claiming that Sakusa was merely ruining his own chances with the girl he obviously liked. Sakusa cursed out the blonde-haired boy in response, but he secretly agreed with everything that was said.

But what was stopping him from seeking you out? Over the last year, you were the one who pursued him. Should the tables not turn anyway at some point? It was only fair that he chase after you now. Even if that meant going against his better judgment.

Who said emotions were supposed to make sense?

It was day 16 when Sakusa was finally successful in diminishing the distance between you two. Well, rather than being successful in his mission, it was pure luck that caused him to accidentally stumble onto your location. However, luck was truly a nasty creature, as the scene he had entered was one that had a storm brewing inside of the male's chest.

A sickening realization had suddenly plagued the male.

He hated the idea of you "bothering" someone else. Why the hell did he send you into the arms of another!?

"If I had known there were such pretty girls in Japan, I would have come here earlier." The blue and blonde-haired male towered over you with a smirk on his mouth. Based on his accent, he was a foreigner who likely transferred to the school recently.

"I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty enough to move across the globe, Kaiser." A cheerful smile painted across your lips as you interlocked your fingers behind your back. It was more friendly than flirtatious, yet Sakusa felt rage burn in his palms.

When he made the comment about your other toys, he did not think you'd actually give him space. In the past, he had made all sorts of snarky remarks. How many times did he tell you to go away? He had lost count. But what mattered was that you never acted upon his harsh words.

What changed now? Were you fed up with him?

"I'd do a lot more than that for someone as pretty as you, y/n." This time the male named Kaiser lightly grabbed onto your chin, forcing your head to move skyward. And as he leaned in closer, his eyelids dropped just a smidge which even had someone like you blinking in slight astonishment.

But before you could register what was occurring - a new individual entered the stage. Warm fingers were wrapped around your wrist, and with one swift motion, you were pulled away from Kaiser. A familiar scent of laundry detergent tickled your nose. It didn't take you too long to realize whose chest you were currently pressed against.

"Kiyoomi?" His name was breathed out with a fascinated laugh as you peered up at him. Although, his consideration was not on you at all. No, he was engaged in a staring match with the foreign soccer player.

"Y/n. I didn't know you have no standards." The comment comes from Sakusa who refuses to release your wrist. A grimace moulds your features at his incorrect and disrespectful assumption.

"Oh-oh, what do we have here? You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend, y/n." Kaiser raised an eyebrow with a humourless chuckle vibrating in his chest.

"I don't have a boyfriend, that's why." Sakusa tensed up at your retort, which only brought laughter to flow past your lips. "But I do have a grumpy cat it seems." A quick glance was stolen of the male beside you who remained focused on what you realized he considered his love rival.

"But your heart isn't owned by the grumpy cat, now is it?" The soccer player discovered far too much entertainment in the situation. Sakusa was practically sending daggers in his direction, and yet it was all just simply amusing. Kaiser was not interested in you enough to willingly enter a fistfight. But he could not keep himself from teasing the unknown male. "I'm sure I can satisfy your needs much better than he can, my sweet y/n."

"We're done here." It's the latter comment that has the wing spiker suddenly dragging you down the hallway. However, right before leading you away, he released your wrist and instead tangled his fingers with yours. Butterflies sang a melody inside of your stomach as a number of curses were mumbled against the fabric of his mask, causing you to stifle back a titter.

"Why are you so worked up?" The inquiry is posed once Sakusa leads you into an empty classroom. The black-haired male only realized he was holding your hand when his feet stopped carrying him to his destination. A light blush could be seen peeking out from the top of his mask.

It was ridiculously adorable.

"Because he wouldn't stop fucking staring at you like he wanted to eat you." His words were huffed out as his fingers were sent to toy with the strings looped along his ears.

"Eat me? Oh, I'm sure he wanted to do much more." Since ending the physical contact, Sakusa remained a meters distance away from you. A calculated decision on his part, clearly. But you were prompt in destroying that distance with a few steps forward. "I thought you wanted me to play with my other toys, hm?"

The volleyball player elected to remain silent, instead his dark irises bore into yours. Even when you extended your hand to lightly remove his mask, he did not utter a word. Nor did he disturb your movements.

When he brought you here he was not thinking straight, he had no plan. He just wanted to separate you from that man.

"Kiyoomi, if I had known you were such a jealous boy, I would have used this to my advantage earlier." The admission was exhaled with a dramatic sigh, but the playful edge to your tone was difficult to miss. "If you want me, pretty boy, I think now is the time to confess. Unless, you want me to go back to -"

The soccer player's name was swallowed back down as Sakusa's lips suddenly crashed against yours. There was no way in hell he would ever allow you to say another man's name in a romantic context again. The pads of his fingers brushed over your cheeks so lightly you could have confused it for a breeze. The earlier feelings of jealousy melted away with each passing second, as Sakusa bathed in the thrill of finally giving in to his desires. And when you broke the close proximity to catch a breath of air, he was quick to bring your mouth back to his in an urgency you had never expected from the male.

Well, it was needless to say... Operation jealousy was a success.

[trashforhockeyguys]

Vienna Waits For You -8- William Nylander

“Miss Bradshaw Krietzburg, I think it’s very possible that this will work in our favor.”

“Mr. Jefferies, all due respect, but I need to know that it will work. We’ve combed over every line of these contracts.”

“Is there really no loophole she can exploit?” Jackson questioned, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Well, there is one option, although it requires radical action.”

It took Avalyn two months to finally decide to take action against her management team. Jackson was able to hire a lawyer on her behalf, so that her team wouldn’t know anything about it. Together, the three of them met weekly, sometimes more than once, to try to find a way to rid Avalyn of her management. 

She hadn’t spoken to William since that night in her apartment. They were like strangers to each other again, only seeing one another when it came to work related functions. But everytime she saw him from across the room, or on the ice during a game, her chest hurt. She missed seeing him all of the time, missed being with him and talking to him. 

Jackson walked out of the small office with Ava. Both of them had a day off from filming, although they were nearing a break that would last a few weeks. Production wanted to finalize the first two episodes and present them to the studio to make sure that they’d be allowed to continue before finishing off the season. 

“Are you coming to the game tonight?” Jackson asked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. 

Jackson had been grasping at straws for weeks, doing everything he could to get Avalyn to show interest in anything. The only thing she could focus on outside of filming, was doing everything in her power to get out from underneath her parents. Everything else was just…nothing to her. 

The makeup team had a hell of a time making her look better on screen than she did in real life now. Her cheeks hollowed out a little more again, with large dark circles under her eyes. He knew she didn’t sleep much, or eat more than the bare minimum. She was slipping, and there was little he could do other than keep throwing out a rope and hoping she’d grab it one day.

“No, it's best if I don’t. Besides, I want to make sure I have everything down before the shoot on Monday,” She replied, pulling her coat closer to her body. 

“Avey, you have to give yourself a break at some point. You can’t keep working yourself like this.”

She smiled sadly at Jackson, “I keep working so I don’t have time to think.”

He pulled her close, holding her head against his chest in an effort to block out the world, “I wish I could just fix it all for you. God, I wish you didn’t have to deal with any of this anymore.”

She held onto him, feeling relaxed in his arms, “I know. But I’ll be okay Jacks. We’ll find a way out of my contracts.” 

She pulled away enough to see his face. Avalyn tried not to pay much attention to the worried look he had, instead she brushed some of his long hair away from his eyes and tried her best to smile, “Go to the game. Have some fun.”

“Promise me you’ll get some sleep?” He seemed to beg her, “Don’t obsess over the scripts all night.”

“I’ll do my best. Now go, I don’t want you to miss anything.” She shooed him away, “I love you.”

“I love you more.” 

She forces a smile as she makes her way out of the office. For the past month it felt like she couldn't breathe. Like an elephant was sitting on her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. She tried to fight it, but the unbearable pressure from her parents was getting worse. 

Jefferies thought that maybe she could sue them for her rights, or something like that. But she was afraid of what would happen if she took things to a court, because of how nasty they could get. She knew first hand how vicious they could be when they wanted to be. 

Her phone going off drew her out of her thoughts, she pulled it out of her pocket and answered it without even paying attention to who was calling. 

“Avalyn Bradshaw Kiretzburg.”

“Do you always answer your phone that way?” 

She feels her shoulders sag at the sound of his voice, slowly breaking down every barrier she spent the last several weeks trying to build. She leaned against the wall in the hallway leading to her apartment. She hadn’t talked to him since that night in her apartment. The news about the show broke, she went on several more talk shows with the cast. Her parents scrambled to make it seem like this was something they approved of. But the reception was incredible, everyone seemed to be excited about the new hockey show hitting streaming services within the year. It made Avalyn incredibly proud to be a part of it. 

“Only when I don’t pay attention to who’s calling,” She admitted shyly. 

“Ah, so that’s why you picked up,” He laughs, filling her ears with the wonderful sound. 

“You know we can’t do this,” she sighed, digging in her pocket for her keys. 

“No, I just know you say we can’t,” He rebutted, “I don’t care much about what your parents think.”

“I care too much about you,” She shakes her head, “My dad could have your career ended with a single phone call.”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that,” She can picture his smile as he shakes his head, “Anyway, I wanted to see if you’re coming to the game tonight.” 

“You know I won’t be there,” She tells him softly, “It would cause too many questions. Jackson though, he’ll be there with some of the other cast members.” 

“So you can’t come because?” 

“People are already questioning those pictures of us from a little while back,” She rushed to explain, “I can’t give anyone a reason to look closer. I can’t give them a reason to look at you.” 

“So, more of your self preservation bullshit,” He surmised, “Got it.”

“Will-” 

“Look, I like you Ava, you know that. But I can’t wait for you to decide to live your life,” He informs her, “You have to make that decision. No one can make it for you.” 

“Willy I-” 

“I gotta go, game is getting ready to start. Just wanted to hear your voice before I got on the ice.” 

She wanted to say more. Wanted to beg for him to wait for you to get out from underneath your parents. She was so close she could taste freedom. She just wasn’t sure how to get it, no matter how badly she wanted it.

 So instead she gave it another week, waiting for her next meeting with Mr. Jefferies, when she finally asked what the most radical thing to do would be. He took his time explaining how many moving parts this plan would entail, and how important it was that it go off without a hitch. No one outside of the room could know about it. All she knew is she wanted to be free. 

Avalyn wanted to be rid of her parents once and for all. No matter what it might mean for her career. Jackson was ready to talk to his agent and see if they’d be willing to take Avalyn on as a client, provided they would sign an NDA beforehand, so they couldn’t tell anyone else about this either. 

She longed to tell William. Longed to tell him that she was trying to live her life to the best of her ability. But she just needed to get through the next month and then everything would be different. 

“I’ll need a place to crash, off the grid, once news breaks,” Avalyn stated. 

“What about Rose’s place? The homestead with her family?” Jackson questioned, “She’s coming to guest star on the show next week, we can talk to her.” 

“I don’t want to drag Ro into this though,” Ava sighs. 

“You know she’ll be happy to help. You’ll be safe there, no one even knows where she lives.” 

Avalyn sinks further into her seat, knowing her friend was right. Roisin Quinnlyn, or more famously known as  Rose Quinn was a famous singer and actress and a good friend of Avalyn and Jackson’s. One of the only ones left after Margot’s tirade. She stuck with them throughout all of it, never once turning her back on them. 

Rose was the daughter of Irish immigrant parents, who then brought her grandparents over as well. The family had a homestead of sorts in the state of New York, tucked away where no one really knows. The locals don’t talk about her being there, in fact they protect her in every way that they possibly could. 

Avalyn realized it was one of the few places she actually felt at home. Aside from the home she was slowly making for herself here in Toronto. 

“Yeah, okay,” She finally agrees, “Make the arrangements.” 

Jackson finally relaxes in his chair, knowing his best friend would be free soon. He hated seeing what her parents did to her all of these years. Hated seeing how they broke her down and stole her spirit. He thought some of it had come back when she moved here for the show, but he watched as it slowly disappeared again. 

“Good,” Jacks smiled, “I’ll call Rose tonight and see if she’s game. But she hates your parents as much as we do, so I’m sure she’ll be down to cause some trouble.” 

“You and Rose only cause trouble,” Avalyn rolled her eyes. 

He smiled again, big and bright at her. Showing off his dimples. There was a pang in Avalyn’s chest at the thought that they wouldn’t have to fake date anymore, which meant she wouldn’t see as much of him when they weren’t filming together. She was selfish in the way that she wanted to keep him in her life as much as she possibly could. She loved him, in more ways than one. 

“It’ll be good to see her again though,” He adds in, “It’s been a while.” 

Rose was just coming off the back of a world tour, which sold out every venue. Avalyn and Jackson were lucky enough to catch one of her shows in LA before she went for her European leg. You were in awe of your friend as you watched her on stage, you loved watching her do what she loved. 

“You should talk to Willy,” Jackson said as the two of them made their way back to her apartment, “He really misses you.” 

“I know he does,” She said softly, “I miss him too, but I can’t risk his career, not when I’m so close to getting out.” 

“So after it’s all over? Will you talk to him then?” He asks. 

“I’ll do more than just talk to him,” She admits, “I’ll get on my knees and beg for him.” 

“I don’t think you’ve ever begged for anything,” Jackson lets out a laugh.

She shakes her head, “I begged for him before, begged for my parents to leave him alone. It was the first time I tried to get my way with them.” 

Jackson wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, “We’ll get you through this. But right now, there are people taking pictures of us, so shut up and kiss me like you love me.” 

“I do love you,” She rolled her eyes, but stood on her tiptoes so she could reach his lips. 

It didn’t feel the same as kissing William. There was no spark with Jacks. Never had been. Anything they did together, they did because they were made to, or it was just safest to do it with one another. They had sex together because it was safe to do so. The other party wouldn't sell the story or anything. Rose and William were the only ones who knew it even happened. 

“I love you,” She forced herself to say overly lovingly. 

“I love you too,” There was a hint of sadness in his voice, in his eyes too, “C’mon, let's get you home.”