#my manager was really nice its not her fault

[cazzyf1]

An Article about Lella Lombardi - Nobody makes jokes about women drivers around Lella Lombardi

The sleek Lola T-332 racing car crossed the starting line at the river side, Calif, Grand Prix, hurtled ahead of three cars, and swooped back inside with split-second timings.

"You mean that's really a girl?" Muttered three times indianapolis 500 winner A. J. Foyt, looking on in incredulously from the side liners.

For Lella Lombardi, the first woman in 17 years (and the second ever) to compete on high performance Formula One circut - the big leagues of professionals auto racing - the question is all but invetable. What in the world is a nice Italian girl like Lella doing in overalls and a crash helmet, risking her life at speeds close to 200 miles an hour?

"That's what mama keeps asking me," says the tomboyish 31-year-old Lella, "I guess she thinks I should be home with a good husband and a houseful of bambini."

It was obvious from the beginning, to Lella at least, that she was cut from different cloth compared to most girls. Born in the little Piedmontese village of Furgarolo, she was hooked on auto racing before she was out of diapers.

"The first I remember, I am perhaps 4 or 5 years old," she recalls, "I was making little cars from things I found in my mum's sewing box. When I was 8 I decided I shall be a racing driver. I didn't say anything but I made up my mind."

As a teenager Lella raced motorcycles with boys in her village. The boys were scandalized she beat them - their mothers that she was racing at all. Eventually the village priest came to call.

"He explained why I should be like a girl and what a girl must do," she remembers. "So I told him, 'yes father' but all the time I am thinking why am I not allowed to do as I want."

Nothing if not persistent, Lella saw her first race at 18. Five years later she brought a car of her own, secondhand, Formula Monza 500 that she tinkered with and drove in races herself. Last year, nearly after a decade of coming up through the ranks, she was approached by March Racing Ltd, of England which was looking for a driver for its two-man Grand Prix team.

"Formula 2, Formula 3, Formula 5000 - I raced in them all," says Lella, "I win a lot in Italy - six times women's champion. So when March comes to ask me to try out for them, I say to myself, 'Why not?'"

March's decision to hire her was hardly made lightly. A single Grand Prix car costs $100,000 and putting it through a season of racing costs several hundred thousand dollars more.

"Putting a woman into a Grand Prix cockpit means shattering a lot of tradition," acknowledges March team manager, Max Mosley. "Of course, my wild told me, the only reason I was hesitating was because of Lella's sex, no doubt about her skill, in the end, I guess my wife was right."

Now prepping for this Sunday's Monaco Grand Prix, Lella is given little chance of winning a race this season (although she finished a respectable sixth in last week's accident-shorter Spanish Grand Prix) since March is designing its cars. Some drivers perhaps disturbed by Lella's invasion of their male peserve, doubt the chunky, 5"2, Lombardi has the stamina for long-distance racing. But March chief Roy Wardell, was watching her during a gruelling test of the company's racers, disagrees.

"Thrasing a car about it bloody hard work," he says, "most male drivers would have been bitching and complaining but she drove more than 300 miles flat out without a whimper." Her main fault, says Wardell, is a rookie's understandable caution. "Lella is still a bit afraid that if she spins out everyone will say, 'see a woman driver'" he says, "but her confidence is building. Pretty soon she'll be mixing it up with the best of them."

[nonbinary-cherry]

✨✨✨✨I just lost my job✨✨✨✨

So if anyone wants a commission so I can pay my bills please hit me up but know it might take awhile bc I'm still stupid sick :')

[bet-on-me-13]

Ellie isn't allowed to travel alone Anymore

So! Ellie was raised in a Lab by a Genuine Bonefied Supervillain. She was raised to be a Villain as well, so her Moral Conpass is a little skewed.

Sure she *mostly* knows what is right and wrong from Danny's quick lesson before her Adventure around the Country, but she still has trouble separating what is moral and what is not from time to time.

So it's really no surprise that the moment she left Amity Park she somehow ended up being branded a Villain.

Look, it's not her fault she didn't know not to attack the flying guy in Blue Spandex when he approached her! One of Danny's biggest warnings shen she left had been Stranger Danger! She did what any 12 year old girl would have done when approached by a strange Older Man!

Its also not her fault that her powers (being Magic based), managed to affect him! She didn't even use her full power! (She maybe should have kicked him in a different place tho...she hopes he wasn't planning on having kids...)

So she did what her instincts told her to do. She took any money he had on him and ran the hell away!

It wasn't until she was 2 cities over when she saw a newspaper titled, "Little Villain Girl Mugs Superman in Broad Daylight!", that she realized she may have screwed up...

After that, she really had no excuse.

She knew that she probably shouldn't have kept Mugging the Heroes who approached her, but she wasn't a Fenton for nothing! Her Family Motto had always been "Commit to the Bit", and she was gonna stick to it!

So when the Fast Red Guy tried to tie her up, she phased off all his clothes and took off with his money (not the mask, she knew enough not to take that off)

And when the Grumpy Bat Guy tried to corner her with some weird papers he pulled out of his Belt, she just distracted him while her clone picked his pockets and made off with the wheels of his Car. That one made her a pretty penny!

The flying Green Guy was fun, his attacks were just throwing Ghost Candy (pure willpower) at her. He did stop doing do after she nicked his fancy talking Ring however, but it was fun while it lasted

Then she came across a Orange Fish Guy, and he actually seemed nice enough. But she was committing to the Bit, so she took the fancy Trident he had and sold it at a nearby Pawn Shop for some extra cash. He would probably be able to find it, that's why she chose a nearby location.

All in All, her Adventure had been really fun! So she decided to visit Amity Park again to tell Danny all about it!

...

Aquaman walked into the meeting room of the Watchtower, a very frustrated look in his eye.

Barry spoke up first, "Oh! I know that look in your eye! She got to you too didn't she!"

Arthur just glared at Barry for a second before walking over to his Chair, sitting down with a thump. "She is certainly a tricky child."

"What did she take this time?" Clark asked.

"..mttrident..." Arthur grumbled out quickly.

"What was that?" Asked Barry with a twinkle in his eye. He heard it, but he wanted everybody else to know.

"She took my trident, Okay!" Arthur shouted out.

"I feel ya man." Responded Hal, "At least with me she threw it back at me when she realized it wasn't making 'candy' anymore. What did she do with yours?"

"She sold it at a Pawn Shop!" Arthus yelled in frustration, "She managed to steal one of the most Powerful Magical Weapons in the world, the Symbol of the entire Atalantean Royal Bloodline, and she sold it and a Pawn Shop!"

"...how much did she get for it?" Asked Hal.

At this, Aquaman just collapsed to the table and groaned.

...

Alternatively she could have just kept all those things, and gradually built up a collection of all the JLA's most treasured possessions.

She has Supermans Wallet, not very important to him but it was her first mugging

She has Batmans Utility Belt (trackers removed) along with his Tires

She took Flashes Costume Ring (his civilian clothes still stuck inside)

She took Green Lanterns ring as well, but unfortunately it managed to escape after a few days. It was feisty.

And her crowning Jewel is the Trident she took from Aquaman.

(She avoided WW, cause she likes her too much to steal anything from her)

[cheriladycl01]

Feel the Heat - Grid x F Driver! Reader

Plot: All the moments that Y/N has just absolutely lost her shit.

Warnings: Lots of swearing, mentions of sexism (undertones) which I do not condone at all, its just for the plot and what i see some celebrities are burdened with in the limelight.

Credit to martha-dobie for the GIF

Moment 1:

"So Y/N how do you feel about the 10 second time penalty?" Martin asks you in the post race interview. You were now starting P20 in the race tomorrow and it wasn't even your fault.

"Yeah superb the FIA did a really good job determining who was at fault!" you grit out with a strained smile on your face.

"Oh really? Because your team seem to be arguing against the decision as we speak, they've been very vocal about it"

"Yeah it was sarcastic of course I'm not happy, any other driver who did that would have been let off... but I don't? My team have clips of Hamilton, Ricciardo, Leclerc, Stroll, Gasly and Norris all doing it and getting away with it. So why not me?" you ask before storming off. You didn't want to do media anymore and your PR manager could tell.

"Y/N we are trying to get that penalty lifted so that you start P4 tomorrow. I don't know what else to say, the team are trying" she says rubbing your shoulders, but the scowl on your face says otherwise.

"It's not fucking right though Cathy!" you exclaim kicking the side of the Red Bull hospitality wall.

"I know, i know. And they are working on it!" she exclaims trying to calm you down.

"They wont change their decision now though, the other teams will get pissed that they've gone back on their word..." you seethe.

"Fucks sake" you scream.

"I'm going" you grunt out, before storming through the AlphaTauri garage and grab your bag that you'd brought to the track. Everyone could see how hacked off you were, even once you put the sunglasses on and your team cap to cover the look currently on your face.

"Y/N are you okay?" Yuki your team mate asks, as he too exists the paddock behind you. You tried to ignore him, not wanting to turn round and snap at one of the most genuine and sweetest people here.

"Okay, you don't want to talk and that's fine, but please let me drive. Angry Y/N is scary driving" he advises, trying to beeline ahead of you so that he could get to the drivers door before you.

"Sorry Yuki, yeah you should drive" you manage to get out slowing down your own pace so that the poor male didn't have to run so he was ahead of you.

Aftermath:

You proceeded to not have the time penalty knocked, and you started the race in P20, however you managed to climb all the way up to P5 in a victorious come back race.

Your team were celebrating the come back and you were beyond happy in the interviews.

Moment 2:

"Y/N over here! Can you sign this?" another voice shouts at you, you were in the airport and your manager said that he would be there for you and your girlfriend when you got off the plane with security.

However no-one was there to collect you apart from fans who somehow worked out what flight you were on.

Slowly more and more people were flooding around you both and your girlfriend. Your girlfriend was a smaller streamer and therefore wasn't used to the Paparazzi.

"Guys can we back up a little, just to keep us all safe" you tried being nice to get the fans to back up a little further to make sure your girlfriend was safe.

However, as you went round with the sharpie, more and more people were pushing and you were so out of it from the pushing and pulling, the cameras in your face and things being thrusted at you that the tight grip that was once on your forearm was gone.

"Emma?" you shouted your girlfriends name, now noticing you couldn't see her.

"Emma!" you shouted in an angrier tone, people still not backing up and giving you space.

"Right, I've tried to be nice, everyone please leave. NOW!" you say sternly, and for the first time not only the fans but airport staff notice the commotion and security help you out of the circled crowd around you.

You immediately went to twitter.

'Please, if you are a fan and you see a celebrity in a public space with no security... DONT bring attention to them and DONT mob them. That was the scariest moment of my life in Heathrow Airport just now. Have some fucking respect for your idols'

You shut your phone off, your face still angry most definitely being caught by the paps. They also caught as you ran up to your girlfriend pulling her into a hug, checking over her making sure she's okay, before your hands travel up to her cheek and pull her into a kiss.

"I'm so sorry baby" you apologize as soft tears start to fall down her face.

Aftermath:

Your girlfriend had ended up breaking up with you the week after the race, the pressure of everything getting to her. You cried to Charles and Pierre for an entire weekend as your 3 year long relationship had just come to a close because of your fans not having respect for personal space and boundaries.

You were fuming and had written many tweets and Instagram story's explaining why you guys broke up and how utterly heartbroken you were, however you wanted Emma to be happy and that this is what was for the best.

For months, you were cold and off with any media duties and PR had to tell every interviewer not to bring the breakup up in the questions or they'd cut the interview.

Moment 3:

"Well, Lando... you've been here for six years now and you still haven't got your first win yet... do you feel like your going to be the next Nico Hulkenberg or Kevin Magnussen?" An interviewer asks looking down at his notepad.

"Erm" Lando says unsurely looking down.

"What the actual fuck" you spit, looking at the interviewer that asked him.

"Y/N you have input on this matter?"

"Go fuck yourself. Get yourself in a F1 car and see if you can even fucking start it. Lando has worked hard for what he has achieved so far, in and no hate to Mclaren, but a midfield car. How dare you sit there and ask him that question. Kevin and Nico have also worked hard for where they are, even just being in F1 is a phenomenal achievement considering there are only 20 seats in the world. So to answer your question, no Lando is Lando Norris and that's fucking iconic enough as it is, with or without a win. Have a good fucking rest of the panel" you rant, before standing up with so much force that your seat goes crashing back, a bang sounding throughout the room making the interviewer flinch.

Aftermath:

Everyone actually sat there for a minute reviewing how you'd just stormed out of media duties and slammed the interviewer six feet under.

"So Y/N no longer will be participating into todays panel. So Martin i believe you had a question for Lewis?" the director advised but the rest of the vibes for the interview weren't there as everyone agreed with your previous statements.

Moment 4:

"Y/N are you okay?" your race engineer asks.

"FUCK! FUCKS SAKE. WHAT A PRICK" you screech.

"Copy that. But are you okay?" they asks once again.

"No I'm not fucking okay. Tell Leclerc when i see him, I'm going to shove his wheel so far into his mouth " *cut off*

"Did you guys just fucking mute me?" you scream, but after not hearing anything you jump out the car handing the wheel to one of the pit teams that had come out to collect your battered car.

You kicked at the gravel, yelling at one of the crew asking if they saw how Leclerc had literally gone into you and used you as his crash barrier, yet he was still able to the continue the race pitting for minor wing damage.

Aftermath:

You had yelled at Charles after the race, who completely admitted to you that he was at fault and he was sorry to be the cause of your DNF. He went on to say in the interviews that he was sorry to you that he'd caused such a collision.

Moment 5:

"WOMEN SHOULDNT BE IN MOTORSPORT" you hear from the stand behind you as your signing a little boys hat that he had offered you asking for a picture and a signature.

However, something metallic not only hit you but hit the little boy that was stood to your left. He immediately raised his hand to his head, holding the bit that the can had hit before bursting into tears.

In a moment of shock you spin round looking for the men that had thrown the empty beer cans at you through the fencing.

"Oiii you two get the fuck down here now!" you point at the two laughing gents, who still at being called out.

"Don't ever pull shit like that again or I'll get you permanently banned from every sporting event you could possibly attend" you say looking up at them. They looked at you in shock.

"Oh, I'm sorry if its not the consequences of your actions ..." you laugh.

"But ..."

"No, you hurt a little boy! And me... So I'll be letting bar staff know to no longer serve you" you say before turning away and talking to security.

They ended up finding the little boy and his father. You came up to them with a gift bag each and upgraded paddock passes. They hugged you thanking you for the opportunity and saying it was too much.

You made sure the little boy was okay, carrying him on your hip touring him through the paddock, introducing him and his dad to the other drivers and then showing him around the garage. You let him sit in your car while you took a picture of him and his dad. A mechanic then took a picture of the three of you.

Aftermath:

The media went crazy seeing you stick up for the little boy and his day around the paddock with you. People knew you were sweet despite how short tempered you could be and these interactions proved it.

The little boy and his father ended up actually becoming closer friends of yours and would often be seen in the paddock or when they had general tickets people would wave as they recognized them.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz

[pickingupmymercedes]

Wrong for me - Charles Leclerc

📷 @/nicolo.furicchia

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! f1 related! reader (the reader is a tp's daughter, I wrote with Toto in mind but there's no names)

song: Angels - Miley Cyrus

warnings: angsty but happy-ish ending

wordcount: 1k

a/n: Bit of a short one but it is my first time writing for Charles, so would you guys give some feedback? Also I'm thinking of opening up requests for drivers x readers with songs inspirations, I actually really like to take songs as inspirations

I know that you’re wrong for me, gonna wish we never met on the day I leave

It was everything your father had warned you not to do, yet it was everything you’ve thought about ever since he walked through the f1 paddock back in 2018. You knew he was wrong for you, but the very thought of each other consumed every inch of logical judgment in both of you. He had a couple of girlfriends since, they were all nice and polite, you tried to stay away but it didn’t make much of a difference. Their official reason for the break ups were the hardships of dating a driver, but he would tell you sometime later some of the exact words he heard were “Why am I always so sure your mind is on her?”.

A puppy love that had burned bright for a little over 6 months when you were still 16 but somehow had managed to quietly find its way through to today. Only this time the flame had threatened to burn not only your hearts but the entirety of his and your father’s team. The tension between the two of you had always been evident to those who knew what had happened back then, but as the 2024 season went further it was more than obvious to anyone with eyes that there was something there. Feelings and desire neither of you would dare to act upon and that would further build an atmosphere that could be felt and cut with a knife, making you wish every day you had never met.

When you finally realized you had the same effect he did on you, hurting him was how you protected yourself from giving in to the urge to fall head first into a love that you believed would not be able to thrive. So as his relationships crumbled down to their inevitable ends, you embarked in a string of meaningless flings in search of someone that would take your mind off of the one thing that you truly wanted.

Bringing him down to his knees with every ghosting you’d purposely inflict him, finding some unimportant meeting to attend instead of where you said you’d be, all the while excitedly celebrating his first win, birthday or even little achievements, moments of weakness you’d let your true emotions surface, only to shut him out right after, pledging to not drag him down the rabbit hole that was your blinding infatuation, with what you believed to be his way out of “misery loves company”.

Some of the drivers, protective as they had become of you, caught on pretty early how although Charles wouldn’t confess his affections, he would never candidly deny them either, which resulted in rising untrust between some of them, with your father on the other hand taking the blind eye approach and ignoring what was obvious until he couldn’t anymore.

You tried to pretend things were taken care of, but every time you found yourselves in the same space sparks could almost be seen coming from every other direction. The breaking point being a very public and loud display of how tense things were between you and him one Saturday night at the paddock, the motive long forgotten as both of you screamed at the top of your lungs for things the other had no fault. The frustration of walking on egg shells around each other clearly evident on the screaming match, and your father’s first intervention resulting in two grown adults looking like sulking toddlers who had just been told they had to deal with their emotions before anyone got seriously hurt in the cross fire.

That wasn’t the last time, and although you would try to keep discussions and screaming matches alike from happening, the public stares and midnight bedroom escapades escalated to a point where everyone decided enough was enough, and you were both locked at the FIA conference room, to either “kiss or scream it out” – their exact words.

“I’m not like your past relationship, Charles. I won’t bring you security, peace and quiet. I’m a mess and you know it, you’ve seen it. Everything I touch turns into a huge media monster and I’m fated to lose every single person I love. It’s not your fault I ruin everything, and it’s not your fault I can’t be what you need” You confessed, looking him with bloodshot eyes, tears falling freely.

“I don’t want them, I want you. Baggage and all, media attention and crazy fans, protective father and f1 drivers haunting me for years to come… The mess and everything they always said you’d be, because that’s the woman I fell in love with.” And although you had reservations on what you believed could be a relationship with the power to destroy his life, and potently his career, you gave in, letting your heart speak louder than your fears.

[ashersanity]

more sister fucking king🙏

— “TONGUE TIED LIES.”

— summary. it’s only natural to. at least, that’s what you insistently keep reminding yourself of to convince your ever growing guilt lurking deep within the shadows that is your mind — that this is fine. completely fine. is it not?

— content warning! full on incest, non-con? dub-con? it varies really, piss. yeah, you heard me, baby sister pussy pissing all over reader’s cock cuz’ it’s just fun, y’know? cream pie, mentions of.. breeding? toxic sibling dynamic, manipulation and past abuse implied, shit writing, mean, big brother reader who’s a borderline yandere and little sister penny.

— word count? just a short drabble, really. might’ve gotten carried away on certain parts.

— asher’s note : “know this isn’t exactly what you asked for probably, anon.. but, I had to. I fucking had to when the opportunity was right there. still hope this is to your enjoyment though even if I might have accidentally inflicted you all to my piss + humiliation kink combo.”

Kind, dependable and charitable. Those were the various terms the homely town of Pelican would proudly refer to you as. The sort of boy they could wholeheartedly count on regardless of the variable situations at hand. The one to follow suit when given a manual task like lifting the numerous, heavy bottles of milk shakily knocking against one another in the narrow, wooden container. That welcoming neighbour that’d shoot familiar smiles their way to whoever; the one envious mothers would openly compare their rebellious sons to whenever they caught sight of you down the street. Hell, even the local shut-in, Sebastian, known for his relatively indifferent attitude would greet you with the occasional nod whenever you two consequentially crossed paths by chance.

A friend of all. Charming boy you were, that’s precisely what the entirety of the town-folks knew you for. Repetitively expressing their endless gratitude towards you and namely, your younger sister Penny that’d simply nod along in agreement with that recognizable, sweet smile plastered onto her rosy face. After all, who couldn’t possibly believe so when you proved them wrong time and time again? Everyone did. Not a single one had managed to slip past the thinly veiled mask of deceit you had carefully put on for all to see, figured that automatic smile of yours was merely a sham to conceal your actual, truthful nature simmering deep within your core.

Yeah. Well, for that statement— That wasn’t entirely the case. Someone had indeed wormed their way through.

Oh, sweet little Penny. Always a hitch in your plan, isn’t she? Discreetly sneaking where she wasn’t supposed to, thus leading to this unfortunate predicament solely placed upon her foolish little self. Only has herself to blame for this, doesn’t she? Not like she didn’t plainly ask for it either, those provoking sniffles of hers paired with the glistening tears freshly rolling down the length of her scarlet cheeks. Any man would’ve done the same in your position, in your dutiful role as the older, responsible brother here. It’s only natural to. At least, that’s what you insistently keep reminding yourself of to convince your ever growing guilt lurking deep within the shadows that is your mind — that this is fine. Completely fine. Is it not?

Really, you’re not the one at fault here! Look at how pathetic she appears before you right now. Resembling that of a shivering bunny encircled by the protective grasp of your arms tight around her smaller waist, a prey right within the drooling maw of its awaiting predator. Pathetic and oh, so helpless without the ‘well-intentioned’ guarding of her older brother, quivering figure sat atop your comfortable lap. Sibling bonding, you’d happily call it. Yet, if anyone were to catch a glimpse of such a scene, they’d surely know that this isn’t just some regular ‘sibling bonding’ between brother and sister. Fuck, far from it with how her tight little cunt is wrapped so nicely around the veiny girth of your pulsing cock, freely dripping slick onto the fuzzy carpet below.

The same one your shared mother had notably complained about constantly being messy due to the various, wet spots found on it at times. Ah, speaking of — You should probably deal with that recurring issue before she drunkenly barges onto that little sick act of yours and properly disowns you for being caught balls deep in her fucking daughter. That’s a sure fire way to be kicked out of this area, detested by your previously homely neighbours.

An amusing scenario to ponder on nonetheless, you suppose. However, more pressing matters require your undivided attention at the moment, starting off with your younger sister’s stifled whimpers echoing faintly throughout the trailer. Always been such a noisy one, hasn’t she?

“What’s the matter? Not comfy?” It’s more of a rhetorical statement than it is of genuine curiosity, knowing full well by the predictable squirms of her legs raised high that no— it’s sort of difficult to be considered at ease with this position, huh? Poor thing, can’t even muster up a response to utter out in return with how fucked out she stupidly is, cunt merely squeezing back around your leaking cock to signal her ever approaching climax.

And well, wouldn’t you be such a mean big brother if you were to blatantly refuse her of her well-deserved reward as promised? Greedy thrusts accompanied by the firm grasp you have around the flesh of her hips, relishing in the hiccuped moans uselessly spilling out of her needy, little sister mouth. What a dirty bitch, really. Claiming to detest this when her baby sister pussy is clenching so eagerly down your full length, practically begging you to continue on further, to fuck yourself deeper in her wet hole. “P-Please—“ A measly attempt at begging on her part, sneering openly at the way her dainty hands find home to place onto your spread legs — because despite being the one partially responsible for her suffering here, you’re also the only one who she can potentially seek out whenever. The one to find a twisted sense of comfort in the possessive embrace of your arms as long as you remain by her side. That is enough for Penny. It’s dumb, really.

“I-I can’t—“ She sputters out mindlessly, those pretty tits of hers bouncing with every steady roll of your hips, further sending the two of you down the debauched path of depravity between mere siblings. Ah, can you really blame yourself when she’s so fucking warm? Shit—

Knowing exactly what she’s pleading for, yet you prod for a more coherent answer, y’know— just to be fuckin’ mean. “Please what? I can’t hear you if you don’t — hah, speak up for me.” A particular harsh thrust in the warm heat clamping around you so well has you both collectively gasping like a bunch of whores, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your grip remains locked tight on the fat of her thighs. “Fuckin’ cmon, I know you can do better than that, Pen.” Hasn’t she learned how to properly speak through the choked babbles endlessly escaping her? It’s a shame, though it serves as proof that you should be training those lips more often now, stretch her pussy to the hilt till she grows familiar with it, learns how to perfectly take it. Molding her to your preferred likings.

All you’re given in return between the softened whines of feels weird! and too much! is the pitiful expression spread along her delicate features for you to appreciatively gaze at. Oh, is this a vain effort made by your dearest little sister to plead with your cruelty? Nice try, but you’re not such a sensible man to stupidly fall for baseless trickery. At least, you would’ve normally thought so in any other manner, yet you’ve silently decided to relent a tad bit in exchange for her faithful obedience thus far. “What? Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” A gentle chuckle drawn forth from your chest has her noticeably relaxing within your grasp, that recognizable, boyish grin you’d present to the other residents peeking its way through. Not the one Penny truthfully knew under that faux layer of kindness, the smirk you’d flash her whenever she found herself alone with only your presence to keep her company. Those helping hands praised for their dexterity, riddled with purplish bruises that’d shamelessly grope at the smooth skin of her legs beneath her flowing skirt at the dinner table. That soft voice known to appease wild animals deep within the forest, sweetly whispering utter filth in the shell of her ear late at night as you hungrily palmed at her breasts.

Yes, all of those she painfully knew. All of you, without the layers and without the theatrics as if you were on stage with the spotlight directed entirely on your frame to catch your every movement in their wake. A wolf in a sheep’s clothing and she was the trembling bunny caught in its claws.

How ironic, really.

Your relationship was evidently far from the norm with its hidden ‘benefits’ as you’d so cheekily call it, muttering about how lucky she should feel to be able to practice with her far more experienced, elder brother — in case she ever does get a boyfriend which will never happen under your watchful guise. An empty reassurance to soothe her reluctant doubts, give her the underlying impression that this is what all siblings do together in the privacy of their own respective homes.

Now is not the time to really think about it though, not with the growing heat in the pit of her stomach, that sudden, awfully familiar sensation forming between the slicked wetness of her plush thighs. “Big— ah, big brother, please— I-I can’t—“ She tries pathetically, tears brimming to stain at her fluttering eyelashes with every shaky inhale to skillfully control her steady intakes of air. “I really, really need to go to the— hmph! bathroom! Please, I promise I won’t do anything funny! W-We can keep hugging after, just let me—“

“What’s that? Can’t you hold just a little bit longer for me, Pen?” Cruel and relentless is how she knew you best.

Ah, of course. Of course, you’d say that — that that’d be your answer to her frantic pleading, a sickening jolt passing through the entirety of her body as you instead draw rhythmic circles on her swollen clit with the pad of your thumb, disarming her concentration not to cum early or whatever disastrous accident may occur out of this. “N-No! I really need to go, it’s urgent!” But is it really? Perhaps the worst in all of this is how you do in fact know what awaits you, very much aware of the consequences at hand if you were to deny her once again. Deprive her of relieving herself, similar to how an owner would strictly train a puppy not to do its business whenever nor wherever. The comparison almost has you grinning snidely at a closer focus of your dynamic, the one who withholds full control here and has the authority to plainly tell her ‘no’. That’d be so mean however. Why do such a thing, huh?

Why? Cuz’ it’s fuckin’ fun, obviously.

Baby sister wants to piss so bad, huh? Well, she’s going to have to patiently wait for you to finish on your end firstly, wait for big brother’s cooed permission to finally ease out the tension subtly straining on her filled bladder. Sob all she wants about it, it’s only till you fucking allow her such privilege — dammit. And honestly? It’s borderline disgusting how appealing you find the mere idea of your younger sister wetting herself all over your fat cock — Throbbing balls earnestly tightening in response as an alarming reminder shot through your spine that you’re about this fucking close to bust a thick load in her eager, awaiting cunt. “Fuck— God, who ever gave you the right to be this tight? You’re so warm— shit, baby—” Maybe even knock her up if you can, make her belly all full and round for y’a, yeah? Would make such a good mommy, that’s for sure — with the way she carefully tends to the children surrounding her, following her every step. A man can wishfully dream as he pleases.

Since it’s your rightful role to, sickeningly defile that lingering innocence your mother sought to shield away from the corrupted world you two miserably have to live in. No need to, really. You’re already doing a thorough job at it, calloused fingertips tenderly digging in the pale complexion of her jaw, directing her tear-stained face towards yours for your parted lips to connect. Pink tongues fervently meeting in a sloppy, messy kiss that’s bound to leave her drooling mouth stuttering. Mixing spit to relish in the breathtaking sight of her glistening lips stained with your sticky saliva, something you can definitely fist your cock to later. What remains the best truly, however, is that fucked out expression she wears so prettily — swollen nipples spilling free from that pristine, yellow shirt you had savagely stripped down to display her milky tits for your hungry gaze to brazenly leer at. “Pretty.” You audibly sigh out, unsure whether she had briefly registered your unintentional compliment or not. Not that it mattered much, utterly focused on having her convulse snugly around the hefty girth of your full length as you teasingly rub at her sensitive clit.

“Told you— hah, I told you that you don’t get to go till you cum.” That warmth building within the depths of her tummy, a tightening coil promising to unleash at the most unfortunate of instants. No, no! If she cums now, she won’t possibly be able to hold herself back in time— The horrific thought far too much to bear for her fragile dignity that somehow remains somewhat intact in the midst of this ruthless fucking. If you keep— ah, fucking into her slicked hole like that, spreading her folds apart to shamelessly gawk in awe at every glide of your weeping cock sheathed inside her warm walls. She’ll really, really finish for real! More than anything, you solely intend to have your baby sister’s tight, little cunt adorably cream around your leaking cock, spill her dumb self all over your balls smacking against her bare backside while she’s at it, huh? That’d just about do it.

And you don’t have to wait much longer to have your desires fulfilled, a soundless squeak tumbling forth from her open mouth and there she goes— involuntarily gushing filthy fluids to stain the already soiled rug below your quivering frames, reeled in by the soft groan that slips past between your lips as she milks your entire length for all it’s worth. Thick ropes of cum shot out of your hot red tip to paint her pink insides with a creamy white, stuff her to the brim. “S-Stop— Too much! I can’t, big brother—“ Uselessly sobbing at the way you merely restrain her flailing legs, deftly lock her in her rightful place which simply happens to be your goddamn lap. Oh no, she’s not going anywhere. Worst of all is the weight of your warm palm pressed flatly against her smooth tummy, practically urging her to ease out her dirty release and— and, she can’t do this! Expecting another wave of accidental squirting, yet all she’s greeted with are golden streams of warm liquid spurting out of her fucked out, wet cunt that soon trickle down the length of her twitching legs. The daunting realization setting in that she’s— pissing herself all over big brother’s cock, in front of your sharp eyes that are sure to endlessly bully her for the oncoming years yet to pass.

It’s downright humiliating! Hiccuped moans silenced by your stunned cuss that she’s actually— she really fucking pissed on you, didn’t she?? No way. Your little Penny wetting herself, not to forget on you too. “Holy shit, did you really just— ahah, fuck— you really pissed all over yourself!” You gasp out momentarily only to snicker openly at the mess she’s created. The demeaning pitch of your laughter has her wanting nothing more than to wordlessly bury the burning heat visibly red across her cheeks in the comforting escape of her palms, avoid the look that she’ll surely have no choice but to eventually gaze at.

Aw, little sister Penny is humiliated, is that it? No need to be. If anything you might’ve accidentally developed a new twisted kink along the process of this, thanks to her. Willing to let this one silently slide by just this once, gently cooing down at her in the same manner you did as young kids whenever she tripped over her own carefully made steps, bruising her wobbly knees and sobbing so cutely for her big brother to comfort her. Hm, yeah. You had forgotten about that one sealed shut memory scattered across your hazy mind, shushing her overflowing tears. “Shh, cmon. It’s not that bad, is it?” Sort of might be to her, but you don’t seem to mind so in the slightest by the lazy roll of your hips, reluctantly slipping out of her sore cunt to shift her into a different position after. Wanna see the whole thing close by this time, adore every inch of her skin whether stained with the essence of her mess or not — since in the end, it’ll all be the same. Yours truly, to sinfully mark.

“Who else will get to stay with you after all of that anyway? See, Penny? I’m the only one — hah, the only one who gets to see you like this, alright?” Muttering out such sweet platitudes all the while sparing yourself a subtle glance in the nearby clock’s direction, lips curling up in satisfaction to the revealed confirmation. “So, there’s no really need to cry..”

Ah, sun is barely setting, huh. Looks like you have more time to spare than you originally thought. All the more better though, serves you as an excuse to spend a bit more quality time with your baby sister, right? More bonding.

Lucky for her, you’ll be putting those extra hours to good use.

“Looks like mom isn’t coming back home till later and I’ve gotta admit, I still have another one left in me.” You start off in an uncharacteristically tender tone, soothingly rubbing small circles over the flesh of her hips that draws another full body shiver from her. “What’d y’a say, huh? Hah, though you look a little spent out yourself, Pen. But, we’ll make do, won’t we?”

That’s right, you always do.

[aislinrayne]

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: After a particularly rough case, Reader starts acting distant. Lockwood thinks giving her space will help. When he's woken by the phone ringing, George doesn't need to know what happened to know it's probably Lockwood's fault.

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: Mature/Explicit.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Alcohol consumption, strong language, sexual content (second base with intent to go further), anxious avoidant Reader, Reader is shorter than Lockwood, drunk Reader, Reader is harassed at the bar, brief touch without consent, no use of y/n.

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Fuck I love playing with different kinds of dynamics. I've had this sitting partially drafted in my writing folder for a year now, and the brain-goblins wouldn't let me keep working on SM until this was done lmao Please let this be the year I finally get a handle on my creative flow fml

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 6.1k

    The first time the phone rings, both inhabitants of 35 Portland Row manage to remain deep in a well earned slumber.

  The second time the phone rings, it successfully rouses one George Karim.  Muttering a string of colourful insults under his breath that - had he been in his family home - would have earned him a smack over the head with his mother’s slipper, he reluctantly drags himself from the warmth and comfort of his duvet.  Letting out a long suffering sigh that lasts through the entire shuffle from his room to the phone on the floor below, he lifts it from the receiver and greets the caller with a noise somewhere between ‘hello’ and ‘fuck off’.

  “Evening, sorry to wake you.  This is James, calling from The Royal Oak.  Is there a, uh-”  Even over the numerous voices and the clinking of glass in the background, George can hear the gruff sounding man being interrupted by a woman’s voice mumbling incoherently before all sound is muffled by a palm being pressed over the mic on the other end, “-sorry, did you say…?  Really, sweetheart?  Alright, but don’t try to blame this on me tomorrow when you sober up.”  

  Then the phone is back to full volume. “Sorry about that, I’ve got a young lady here who says she lives at this address?  She’s too drunk to get herself home and this is the number she gave for someone she trusts to come get her.  But, uh, she-”  James seems like he’d rather not say the next bit, “well, she just keeps asking for ‘that selfish wanker’?  Won’t give me a name otherwise.”

  There’s not a lot in this world capable of rendering George completely speechless, but that…  That does it.  He allows the phone to drop from his ear for a moment, resting it on his shoulder as he attempts to compose himself and reply to the nice man on the other end of the line.

  “Uh…  Yeah, she- she’s ours.  Probably talking about our boss, then.  I’ll, uh…  I’ll go wake him.  I’m sure he’ll be there very soon.”  He has to speak up over the sound of James choking and sputtering in surprise to say a polite ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’, before slamming the phone down and jogging up the stairs to wake his friend.  

  He pauses for a moment halfway up, considering heading back downstairs to grab a boot to throw at the door.  Unfortunately his need for immediate answers outweighs his urge to be petty, so he settles for pounding loudly on the door instead.   There’s quiet rustling and not so quiet cursing on the other side before it’s ripped open.

  “What?!”  A dishevelled Anthony Lockwood snaps, blinking sleep from glaring eyes and leaning on the doorframe in an endeavour to keep himself upright.

  “Just got a call from The Royal Oak, down on York Street?  Turns out they have a resident of this address drunkenly calling for a ‘selfish wanker’ to come pick her up.”  George crosses his arms, raising a challenging eyebrow at the taller man.  

  Lockwood’s expression shifts from its existing irritated frown into confusion, then straight to alarm.  He wastes no time flipping the light switch beside the doorway, bathing the room in light as he crosses it to tug one of his dresser drawers open.

  “Can you call me a Night Cab, please?  Offer them double fare to prioritise.”  He calls over his bare shoulder, searching for a t-shirt and hoodie to toss on.  His researcher says nothing as he complies, deciding to save the interrogation for later.

  Anthony is properly worried.     Their third roommate had come back from their last job acting distant.  They’d been separated by a pair of particularly nasty Spectre’s for close to an hour, but she’d succeeded in securing the Source’s and they’d all made it out in one piece.  He’d been so caught up in pride for his team he hadn’t noticed the effect it had on her until days later.  When he tried to approach her with his concerns, she clammed up and looked as though she was about to cry before excusing herself to her room.  None of the members of his agency, himself included, had seen her exit her room for two days after that.   He hadn’t asked about it since, and while giving her space seemed to be working by way of not making her cry, he was starting to wonder if it had been upsetting her in a different way.     Even taking all of that into consideration, there’s still no way he could have seen a phone call like this coming at 2:56 AM on a Tuesday.

  All he can find is a sleeveless black undershirt.  With a huff of frustration he pulls it over his head, kicking the drawer closed simultaneously, then pulling open the one above it.  The joggers he fell asleep in are fine enough, so after a fit of undignified hopping across the room to cover his feet with pink socks he grabs a random hoodie off of the armchair by the window, shrugs into it, and zips it on his way down the stairs.

  George is waiting for him at the bottom, staring at his watch.

  “Your cab should be here in three minutes, mine should be here in thirteen.”  He looks up from his wrist, meeting his boss’s confused look with an exasperated one.  “I’m heading to Flo’s for the night, so whatever you fucked up, mate?  Fix it.”  Karim claps him on the shoulder, walking past him to pack an overnight bag.  It might not be conventional, but Anthony knows it’s the closest thing to encouragement he’s going to get.

  The next several minutes pass in a blur of waiting and worrying, until finally it’s 3:14 AM and he’s slipping the cab driver an extra twenty quid to wait for them, swearing to be no longer than fifteen minutes.  The ungodly-early morning air is sharp and cold, cutting to the bone as soon as he steps out of the comforting warmth of the vehicle.  It’s plenty enough encouragement to hurry his way to the building, pulling the door open to slip into the soft golden warmth and loud ambiance of the pub.  

  He hesitates on the doormat, catching sight of the other patrons.  Thankfully it isn’t a particularly highbrow establishment, but it's nice enough for him to feel noticeably underdressed in black joggers and a grey zip-up.  And then he lays eyes on her, and all insecurities are immediately banished by the sharp knife of shock burying itself in his gut.  

  She’s balanced on a table, wearing a little black dress he’d never seen before.  Her arms are raised above her head, fingers combing through her hair as her hips sway to the bass of the music in a way that probably would have had his mouth watering if it wasn’t for present circumstances.   He isn’t the only one noticing her.  There’s a group of men standing around the table, watching her with hungry eyes that make his skin crawl with disgust.   A tall blonde man pushes his way past the rest of the crowd, deep set ice blue eyes chasing up her legs.  She seems to either be unaware of his presence, or too lost in the music to care.  Even from his position across the room he can see her eyes are out of focus, drifting away for split seconds every few beats from the speakers on the wall.     The man raises a hand and grabs her thigh, using enough pressure to leave visible fingermarks.

  Lockwood finds himself frozen in place, blood boiling as he mentally considers how challenging talking his way out of a murder charge could really be.  Surely not that much harder than talking his way out of an arson charge, and he’d done that often enough to be confident in his abilities.

  Before his sleep deprived mind can break free of its indecision, the girl spins around abruptly and slaps the lecherous limb away from her.  The slime of a man attached to it is none too happy about that, making a move to grab for her arm.  Her normally impeccable reflexes are slowed by the alcohol, she can’t move fast enough to avoid the attack.  When his fingers close around her wrist, he pulls.  Hard.     She teeters on the edge of the table, her short cry of pain audible even over the music.

  Huh.  He’d always thought the whole ‘seeing red’ thing was entirely turn of phrase, but as it turns out, there’s actually a modicum of truth to it.

  He’s halfway across the bar by the time he realises he’s in motion, but he’s not about to stop.  Closing the remaining distance in a few purposeful strides, he grabs the creep’s arm in a vice grip.  The blonde releases his hold on her immediately, instinctively trying to pull away from the pain.  Lockwood lets him stumble away in surprise, wasting no time placing himself in between his friend and the threat to her safety.  At first he’s optimistic he might have a chance to vent some anger when the wanker locks eyes with him, but whatever he’d seen in Anthony’s was enough to make him back down and stumble off with an insincere apology.  

  Reminding himself to focus his attention where it belongs, he turns to look up at the girl on the table.  Her face lights up with delight when she recognizes him, then swiftly sours the longer she looks at him.   He feels like an absolute prick for not noticing the dark circles around her eyes sooner.  Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he reaches up to offer her both of his hands, palms up.  She sways in place for a moment, scowling pensively at the proffered appendages.  He studies her face while he waits patiently, trying to find any hint of what could be bothering her enough to take this approach to forgetting.

  With a tiny hiccup she finally caves, placing her hands in his and allowing him to help her to solid ground.  Once both of her feet are securely on the sticky floor, he offers her his arm for support.  She gives him another little glare, but just like before, she eventually accepts his help.   Scanning the other tables and chairs around her makeshift stage, he sees no sign of a purse or jacket that he recognises in the slightest.

  “Did you bring anything with you, sweetheart?”  He asks her directly, leaning closer to her ear to be heard over the noise.  If he didn’t know any better he’d say she looks almost flustered; eyes glazed, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink, looking through him rather than at him as she tries to filter his words through the haze of liquor clouding her mind.     Although he’s prepared to wait as long as it takes for her to answer, he can’t help but feel a touch relieved when the bartender waves him over holding a familiar leather clutch.  Gently taking her by the arm, he guides her to a nearby chair to sit and wait for him to collect her belongings.  Giving a final warning look to the remaining crowd for good measure, he leaves her side to approach the bar.

  The man behind it is average height, with mid length dark hair as well kept as his perfectly trimmed goatee.  He abandons the glass he’s polishing, tossing the white cloth he’d been using over his shoulder and offering Anthony a calloused hand.  “I take it you must be-”

  “‘That selfish wanker’?  Present and accounted for, though I also answer to ‘Anthony’.”  He replies, accepting the handshake.  

  The other man’s grip is firm but friendly, and he throws his head back in merriment at Lockwood’s unexpected introduction.  “James, pleasure to finally meet you.  I’ve heard a lot about you from your little Songbird over there.”

  Lockwood winces.  “Not all bad, hopefully.”

  “No, not all bad.”  James soothes before leaning in conspiratorially, “Just don’t tell her I said that.”

  He shoots him a wink as he settles back, and now it’s Anthony’s turn to laugh.  It’s decided then and there; they like each other.

  He reaches behind the lip of the bar, grabbing the clutch he’d tucked out of sight until he could determine Lockwood’s identity.  “This is all she brought with her.  You’ve got a safe way home?”

  Anthony takes it from him with a grateful smile.  “Yeah, paid the driver to stick around.  I consider myself pretty good at multitasking, just not ‘keeping her upright and not getting ghost-touched’ good.”  James lets loose a hearty laugh in response.

  The screech of wood against the floor draws their attention back to the woman formerly in the chair, now standing unsteadily a few feet away.

  “And that’s my cue.  Pleasure to meet you, James.  And, uh-”  He glances back at her involuntarily.  “Thank you.  For keeping an eye on her, calling us, the lot of it.”

  The bartender smirks, quirking an eyebrow and giving him a knowing look.  “It's what any decent person would do.  Don’t be a stranger now, either of you.”

  Lockwood departs the bar, clutch in hand, with a salute and a promise to be back another time.   She seems confused at first when he tries to get her attention, switching to stare at him reproachfully when she recognises him again.  He sighs, trying to tuck away his own feelings of exhaustion and defeat.  

  “Let's get you home, love.”  He murmurs, offering his arm again.  She takes it without hesitation this time, leaning heavily against him as they make their way to the exit.  Pausing on the doormat, he carefully extracts his limb from her grip, soothing her little noise of protest by assuring she’d be using him as a crutch again momentarily.  The metal of the zipper is cold against his bare arms as he shrugs his hoodie off, blatantly ignoring her attempts to argue with him and draping the grey fabric over her shoulders.

  The cold breeze cuts into him once they’re outside, but he carefully schools his expression to avoid showing her it's affecting him at all.  Despite having paid the man extra, he’s still pleasantly surprised to see the black cab still waiting at the curb.   It’s easier than he’d expected to load her into the comfortable back seat.  She doesn’t even try to swat his hand away when he places it on top of her head to prevent her bouncing it off the roof in her attempt to get in.   Once she’s scooted to the far side, he climbs in after her.  She seems lost in thought, staring absently at the headrest in front of her.  He leans closer slowly, giving her ample time to move away if she doesn’t want him in her space.  When she remains stationary, he reaches across her body to grab her seatbelt, gently buckling her in and tightening the belt over her hips.  

  She finally looks at him, expression blank as she studies his features.  It’s clear her mind is elsewhere, and she returns to staring at the black leather so quickly he wonders if he’d imagined the whole thing.   He gives their driver the all clear, directing him to drop them off where he’d first picked him up before slumping back into his seat for the uncomfortably quiet ride home.

  They’re half-way there when he can stand to ignore the elephant in the room no longer.  The words slip out before he can think of a more tactful way to ask;  “What’s going on with you?”

  She turns to look at him so slowly it’s almost unnerving. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  She answers bitterly, her voice laced with the same steel as her eyes.

  “That’s bloody horseshit!”  He scoffs, far too tired to hold back.  “If there was nothing wrong, I wouldn’t have gotten a call tonight.”

  Her mouth opens and closes soundlessly for several seconds, seemingly overwhelmed by the number colourful insults she’d like to hurl at him.  

  “Like you care.”  She finally mutters, shaking her head and turning away from him to stare pointedly out her window.

  “...What?”  He manages to put his frustration on hold for a moment, making room for his growing concern.  “Of course I care, what makes you think I wouldn’t?”

  She laughs darkly, shaking her head.  “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”  He cries in exasperation.

  She whips around to face him.  “You knew I was struggling!  You knew, and you ignored it because it was easier than dealing with me!”  Her eyes are wild, chest heaving as she draws in air like she has to fight for every breath.

  All hostility drains out of him in an instant, leaving him uncomfortably hollow in its absence.  He’s intimately aware of her eyes searching his face, trying to gain some kind of insight into his mind.     He feels like he’s just stumbled into a minefield, and in a way he has.  If his next words aren’t carefully chosen, he could detonate one and destroy his friendship with someone he can’t live without.

  Organising his thoughts and taking a deep breath, he plunges ahead.

  “I’m sorry.  I thought by giving you space I was giving you what you needed, but I should have just talked to you.  And you’re right, I was being selfish, just… not in the way you’re thinking.”  She looks like she’s about to interrupt, but he ploughs on.  “I was afraid if I pushed too hard you’d shut me out.  I thought it would be safer to stay silent and let you come to me when you were ready, but it was my responsibility to communicate that to you, and I failed.”

  They sit in stillness for far longer than he’s comfortable with, his words hanging in the air between them.

  When she finally puts him out of his misery, he has to strain to hear her over the rumble of the car.  “It wasn’t two Spectres.”

  It feels like someone’s poured ice down his back.  “...What?”

  “The last job?  We thought it was just two Spectres, but it wasn’t.  It-”  Her voice shakes, then dies.  She has to stop and breathe, looking like she’s about to be crushed by the weight of the words on her tongue.  “One of them was a Fetch.”

  Staring down at his hands, he searches for the right words to say.  Is he supposed to say anything at all?  If he interrupts now, will she shut him out?  If he doesn’t, will she think he doesn’t care?     A point of personal pride for him is being able to read people, to shape himself into whatever role they need him to fill, but… he has no idea who she needs him to be right now.  

  She hesitantly continues.  “It was you.”  

  He looks up at her only to find her eyes already on him.  “It wasn’t.”

  She laughs sadly, but doesn’t look away.  When she tips her head to concede the point, the light catches at the corner of her eye.  “Right.  It did use your face, though.”

  “Whatever it said, it isn’t true.”  He can’t resist the urge to reach across the seat between them, wiping the tear from her cheek and hoping she can feel the truth in his words when he says;  “A Fetch will find your worst fear and exploit it.  And I swear to you, I will never allow anything to make you feel afraid like this again.”

  Silence stretches on between them, becoming heavier with every second passing them by.  His thumb continues stroking her face slowly, absentmindedly.  If he didn’t know any better, he’d think her eyes had drifted to his lips. 

  “Kiss me.”

  His hand falls from her face.   For a second, he thinks it’s him that’s said it.  When he realises it wasn’t, the potential implications of her words make his heart stutter.  There’s a chance this is just a drunken impulse, a need for comfort in a moment of vulnerability.   If it is, what the hell is he supposed to do about it?  If he gives in to her, will he be able to carry on working beside her once he’s had a taste of the life with her he doesn’t even allow himself to dream about?   On the flip side, there’s a chance that this is an actual confession.  The Fetch had chosen his face to torment her, and as horrifying as that had been to hear, it only would have done so if she felt something for him.  Maybe she feels the same as he does.  Maybe the reason he can never figure out what mask to put on for her, is that she’s only ever needed him to be himself.     Hope fills every inch of him as he stares at her, enraptured.

  Then, he realises he’s been quiet for long enough for panic to fill her eyes.

  “Ask me in the morning.”  He breathes, feeling as perplexed as she looks when the words come out of his mouth.  She’s confused that he hasn’t directly shot her down.  He’s confused that he’s capable of this kind of restraint while sleep deprived.

  “What?”  She frowns, blinking as her eyes lose focus for a split second in her bewilderment. 

  Feeling more confident in his decision, he smiles softly at her. “Ask me when you’re sober, and when we’re not in this nice man’s cab.” 

  The driver laughs, trying and failing to cover it with a guilty cough.

  Once they reach 35 Portland Row,  Anthony covers the fare and slips the man a generous tip for enduring their antics before exiting the cab.  The emotional intensity of the ride home had been enough to partially sober up his companion, but he still isn’t sold on her ability to climb stairs without assistance.     He keeps his arm wrapped tightly around her waist until they reach the door of her room - formerly Lucy’s - on the top level of the house before reluctantly removing it.  She wobbles for a moment, but it seems to be more from her leaning to chase his touch than any serious instability.  They stand there for a while, neither willing to walk away from the other, until a large yawn overtakes her.

  He chuckles, suddenly remembering James’ nickname for her.  “Goodnight, Songbird.���

  “That’s a stupid nickname.”  She complains, scrunching up her face in distaste.  When all he does is laugh some more, she sighs and carries on.  “Goodnight, Anthony.  Sweet dreams.”

  He disagrees completely, of course.  From her lips, his name is the sweetest song he’s ever heard.   Turning away from him, she places her hand on the doorknob but doesn’t make any move to twist it.  He’s about to ask her if something is wrong when she turns back to him swiftly, closing the distance between them and standing on her toes to brace her hands on his shoulders as she presses the ghost of a kiss against his cheek.  By the time he’s raised trembling fingers to the tingling skin, she’s already in her room with the door closed behind her.

  He spends his early morning dreaming of the flutter of wings, and birds gently pecking him on the cheek.

  When he’s woken by persistent knocking on his door once more, Anthony Lockwood finds himself wondering what precisely he had done to piss off Hypnos in a past life.

  Still on high alert from his unusual evening, he’s out of bed and across the room without a second thought.  When he pulls the door open he’s entirely expecting another emergency, not to find the girl of his dreams standing there staring steadfast at her feet.

  “I am so sorry about last night, I should have told you what was going on instead of going on a bloody bender.  That was incredibly immature and irresponsible of me and I completely understand if you want to fire me.”  She starts slow, but by the end of her apology the words are flying out of her mouth.  Despite her best efforts, the misery in her voice as she says the last bit is tangible.

  Why would he want that?  Still not entirely awake, the first thing out of his mouth is the first thought in his mind.  “Please don’t leave.”

  “...What?”  Not even remotely prepared for that response, she finally looks up at him.  As their eyes meet, reality sets in and time seems to slow.

  When he takes a proper look at her, he completely forgets the entirety of the English language.  Her hair is mussed from sleep, remnants of last night's makeup smudged under her eyes.  She’d apparently had the mental faculties to change into her pyjamas the night previous, and while he’d seen her in those shorts often enough to control the urge to stare, something about her wearing his hoodie zipped over them was making him feel like a moron.  He’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.   On the other side of the doorway, she’s having a very similar crisis.  His sleep tousled hair only doubled her ever present urge to rake her fingers through it.  And not only had he been in such a hurry to answer the door he hadn’t bothered to slip on a shirt, his joggers were also sitting dangerously low on his hips.     Their eyes snap back to each other's faces in tandem, both flushing almost comical shades of red.

  “Did you mean what you said last night?”  He asks hurriedly, heart pounding in his throat.

  “I said a lot of things.”  She wraps her arms around herself, laughing nervously.  “Which part?”  

  He keeps his eyes fixed on hers, searching them for some clue to tell him what comes next.

  Mustering more courage than she thought she was capable of, she answers honestly.  “Yeah, I did.  Every word.”

  Mimicking his actions from the night before he extends both of his hands towards her, palms up.   She tilts her head quizzically, but places her hands in his.  He uses them to pull her close enough their bodies are almost touching, guiding her arms to rest on his shoulders, releasing them to place one hand on her waist and the other on the side of her neck.  She inhales sharply when he leans in, his thumb lightly stroking her jaw while her gaze flickers between his eyes and lips.   He’s studying her face like he never wants to forget a single detail, but he doesn’t get any closer.  She’s lightheaded and pretty sure she’s going to die if he doesn’t kiss her soon, which is probably why it’s not until she sees the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile that she realises what he’s waiting for.  

  “Kiss me.”  She breathes.

  He doesn’t need to be told a third time.   He leans down and kisses her like he’ll never get the chance to do so again, like the world is falling to pieces around them and the only thing that can save them is the feeling of her lips against his.     The hand on the side of her throat slides back to bury itself in her hair, cradling the back of her head to take the strain off her neck from their notable difference in height.  Her hands wander the expanse of bare skin across his back, mapping every muscle and scar like it’s the braille translation of his life story.  He shivers under her touch, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her body tight to his in a desperate attempt to fill the yawning pit within him that had grown larger with every day he believed he’d never get to hold her like this.  

  As she runs her hands down his sides to his hips he gasps involuntarily, deepening their kiss with enthusiasm.  Driven by curiosity, she lets her nails graze his skin as she retraces her previous path.  The noise he makes in response is downright sinful, but so is the feeling of his rapier-calloused skin against her back as he slips his hand under the hem of his hoodie.  Her breath catches as his fingers trace featherlight patterns up and down her spine, feeling him grinning between kisses when he notices she’s not wearing anything beneath the grey material.  When he nips at her lower lip, she drags her nails down his back, and the last of his restraint abandons him.  

  Both of his hands drop, fingers dimpling the flesh of her upper thighs.  As in sync as they are in the field he’d never dared to imagine the same would apply to the bedroom, so he’s a little blown away when she understands his intentions immediately, jumping as he lifts her up to wrap her legs around his hips without breaking from each other.  Now he’s the one craning his neck to capture her lips, the floor creaking beneath his feet as he crosses the short distance to the wall, pressing her back against it and groaning at the restrained whimper that slips free from her.

  “Please don’t hold back.  I want to hear you sing for me, my little Songbird.”  He urges, adjusting his grip to slide his hands up her sides under his hoodie, palming one of her breasts and swiping a thumb experimentally across her skin to carefully catch one of her nipples between his thumb and the side of his forefinger.  She finally breaks, back arching away from the wall, head falling back against it as she moans unabashedly.  All of his strength threatens to leave him when she rolls her hips against his, dropping his free hand to grab at the plush of her ass and pull her impossibly closer as he whispers praise between frenzied kisses pressed to her throat.  She buries her hands in his hair, gasping for air as his ministrations travel to her collarbones then slowly down the centre of her chest, placing an open-mouthed kiss to swell of her breast-

  The front door slams open, startling them apart.  There’s the sound of shuffling beneath them as someone kicks off their shoes.

  “OI, MATE!”  George’s voice calls from the base of the stairs, “Did you fix it?”

  They look at each other, dazed and drunk off each other.  A confused frown decorates her features, mouth falling open to ask him what the hell their other roommate is talking about.  He shakes his head in exasperation, shooting her a look that reads ‘I’ll fill you in later’ and dropping his head to rest on her chest.  They take as many seconds as they dare like that, her fingers combing through his hair soothingly as he wraps his arms around her back, basking in the warmth of her body against his.  Reluctantly, he lifts his head and steps away from the wall, gently setting her back on her feet and pressing a kiss to her temple.  She seems hesitant to move away from him at all, back to staring at her feet instead of looking at him.  He’s known her for long enough to know she’s overthinking.

  “Hey, look at me.”  He slips his fingers beneath her chin, gently lifting her face to meet his concerned gaze.  “What’s on your mind, darling?”  

  “I don’t-”  She starts strong but stops suddenly, shifting anxiously.  “I really don’t want this to be a one time thing, or - or just a way to blow off steam-”

  He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, cradling her face and pressing a brief but searing kiss against her lips.  She softens, melting into his touch.

  “Good,” He murmurs as he pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her a peck on the cheek like the one she’d given him the night before, “because I don’t think I can survive another day of not being able to kiss you.”

  George chooses that moment to begin his ascent of the stairs.  They break away from each other, struggling to make themselves presentable before he makes it to the landing.  Anthony rushes to grab a shirt from the foot of the bed, throwing it over his head haphazardly  She squeaks when she finds the zipper of his hoodie down to her navel, shooting him a teasingly chastising look when he snickers and crosses past her to greet their researcher in the hall, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it.  She yanks the zip as high as it will go, trying to smooth her own hair as she approaches the bookshelf and grabs something at random.  She throws herself into the armchair in the corner of his room just in time, flipping the book open to roughly the halfway point and staring intently at the page as George reaches the top step.

  “Good morning!”  Anthony greets him far too cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to obscure the other man’s view of his room.  

  “...Morning.”  George replies, not even trying to disguise his attempts to peer around his boss.  “How’d it go last night?”  

  “Um - fine!  Yeah, just fine.  Perfectly fine.  Everything is… fine.”  She closes her eyes, letting out a slow quiet sigh at his obvious nerves.  

  Adjusting the book to make sure it’s in his line of sight, she grits her teeth and bites the bullet.  “Morning, Georgie!”  

  Lockwood looks over his shoulder at her in alarm, but at her reassuring nod he steps hesitantly out of the way so she’s in clear view.

  George inspects her with narrowed eyes.  “You are significantly less hungover than I’d expected.”

  She winces, not able to fault him in the slightest for the disappointment in his voice.  “Yeah, pretty sure it just hasn’t hit me yet.  Sorry about that.  It won’t happen again, Scouts Honour.”

  “Why are you in Lockwood’s room?”  His brow furrows almost imperceptibly.

  She doesn’t miss a beat.  “I was so drunk last night he was worried I was going to fall asleep on my back and choke on my own vomit, so he made me sleep in this ridiculously uncomfortable chair.”

  Both men fix their eyes on her.  Anthony looks horrified, while George looks strangely impressed.  The bespectacled man studies her for another moment and she holds her breath, hoping he’d bought it.  Shrugging a ‘fair enough’, he bids them a temporary farewell and walks into his own room, closing the door behind him.  

  She huffs a sigh of relief, closing her eyes and slumping back in the chair as the tension drains from her body.  When she cracks an eye a few long moments later, Anthony is still standing in the doorway with the same look of horror plastered across his face.

  “What’s wrong?”  She asks, worry laced in every syllable.  

  “I didn’t even think of that!  I could have let you die!”  He seethes, throwing his hands up in annoyance at himself.  

  She has to fight the urge to laugh at him, focusing instead on gathering her strength to stand and walk over to take his hands in her own.  

  “I appreciate the concern, my love, but I wasn’t that drunk by the time you got me home.”  She smiles fondly at him, lifting his hands to press soft kisses to each knuckle.  When she glances up at him even his ears are flushed pink, looking at her with a lovesick smile.  

  “Call me that again?”  He implores, pulling her against him.

  With a quiet laugh, she drapes her arms over his shoulders before replying.  “My love.”

  They lose themselves in each other for another several minutes, only parting grudgingly at the rumble of his stomach and the threat of another interruption.

  George waits until later that morning when Lucy, Kipps, and Holly have joined them and they’re all in the kitchen eating breakfast to comment on Anthony’s inside out shirt, and how impressed he is that the sixth member of their agency has learned to read upside down.   As Lucy slowly turns to look at them, eyes wide and jaw seemingly aiming to touch the floor, Anthony lets the red-faced young woman beside him hide her blush in his shoulder.  For some reason, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed.  Grinning proudly, he winks at the Listener, causing her to shriek loudly and demand to know the full story.

  When his girlfriend looks up to shoot him a warning look, he mimics zipping his lips.  “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, Luce.”

  Lucy’s demands are finally met five years later when James taps the side of his champagne flute with his knife, drawing the attention of the room full of guests to tell his favourite story about the bride and groom.

⤛⊹ 𝔣𝔦𝔫 ⊹⤜

taglist: @tessas4 @chloejaniceeee @shakespearseclipse @ettadear @kassandra1000

𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔞𝔭 [𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢]

[luveline]

hi sweetheart , ur amazing , was wondering if you could write an eddie & roan fic , where whereas eddie was in the hospital that one time , its r’s turn , not to serious but definitely something youd fine yourself worrying about ! and ed and roanie r so worried , sorta like the scene from the work trip 🥹

PLS i love u angel

thank you for your request, ilove u! eddie and roan —dad!eddie juggles his daughter roan, nearly step mom!you, and his own rollercoaster emotions when you end up in hospital for a few days. 4k

cw hospital stay, seizure recovery, temporary paralysis

Eddie's never been this tired in his entire life, and he can't sleep. 

He looks up at his bedroom ceiling (your ceiling, your house), hands under his back in the same clothes he wore yesterday. She'll worry if I show up looking like a slob, he thinks eventually, getting up to shower. The last thing he wants to do when he can't take care of you is take care of himself, but he has to, because that's what you'd want if you were home. 

Roan is stirring by the time he's dressed again. He tugs his socks on and walks across the landing, residual steam from the bathroom warming the air, his hair dripping a cool path down his back. 

He creeps over a mess of things that hasn't been touched in two days. Roan's eyes fly open at the sound, but she sees him and they squint to a more sluggish expression, little hands rubbing sleep from her eyelashes. 

Eddie thinks maybe she thought he was you. 

"Hey, bubby," he says, as loving and bubbly as he can manage, "did you have a nice sleep?" 

"Can we go see Y/N now?" she asks hoarsely. 

Eddie sits on the side of her bed and pulls her effortlessly into his lap. She's boiling from the sheets, her hair curled tight at her neck from the heat. 

"Remember what I said yesterday about visiting hours?" He strokes hair from her face gently, an arm wrapped around her waist to say I'm here. "They won't let us in until nine, and it's not eight yet." 

He drops his nose into her hair. 

"Maybe we can go get a really yummy breakfast," he suggests, thinking about you. You're probably awake, and if he's lucky you've eaten your own breakfast, but it's more likely you've refused it if you're as lethargic as you were yesterday.  

"I don't want diner burgers anymore," Roan says. 

Eddie gives her a kiss and her back a rub. "No, I bet you don't. Sorry, sweetheart, it's not nice having the same foods for two days in a row, is it? That's my fault." 

"It's okay. Let's make waffles." 

He kisses her forehead, taking a contemplative breather, just the two of them in their quiet house, her body a familiar weight in his lap. The sun is up and shining through her window, sunlight across the floor and her spilled toybox. It doesn't quite reach them on the bed, and Eddie snorts at it. Of course it doesn't. Home without you isn't sunny.  

"Waffles," he agrees. 

They make waffles with leftover strawberries and squirty cream. Roan is perky enough to want to have some straight from the can, giggling a storm when he plops a dollop of it onto her nose. He gets her ready as she eats, brushing her knotty hair and changing her pyjamas for a striped long sleeve shirt, wool leggings, and a dungaree dress you'd begged him to buy for her. The front pocket sports a small embroidered Russian doll. 

She should've had a bath, but it's getting on, and Eddie wants to get to Hawkins General dead on visiting time. She's not dirty, just her hair isn't as nice as it could be. He figures the universe will forgive him. 

He really has to see you. 

Getting Roan into the car rehashes a fresh memory. The day before yesterday… things should've been normal. Eddie was walking out of the shop, keys swinging around his finger ready to see his girls for your usual Friday plans: movies on the couch until one or all of you falls asleep. He's thinking kettle corn, a sheet of a dozen donuts, a gallon of Roan's favourite grapefruit juice and maybe another punnet of strawberries so she can dip them in chocolate and sugar. 

But Wayne jogged out after him calling his name. There was a phone call from your work, your coworker frantic. 

Eddie blinks and shoves his keys into the car, listening to the engine sputter, trying to focus. A tonic-clonic seizure, seven minutes counted before it stopped. You were already in the ambulance when they called. 

"What do I do?" Eddie'd asked, frozen to the spot. His heart pounding unsteadily in his chest, the image of you in convulsions behind his eyes. "What do I–"

"You go to the hospital," Wayne said, because of course that's what he had to do. 

Wayne vowed to pick up Roan and Eddie got in the car. His hands shook so bad he couldn't turn the key at first, but he managed it, and he got to Hawkins General in one piece, and he didn't panic at the reception desk asking if you'd been checked in yet. 

Eddie doesn't think he'd described you as looking small before, but you looked small. They laid you out in a snug bed with square orange stickers on your head, chest, and arms, unconscious. You didn't wake up for hours. 

And that was normal, Eddie reminds himself now, the car huffing and puffing its way down roads he's been driving on for almost a decade now on autopilot. You had a standard generalised tonic-clonic seizure. It started from nowhere, though they later found your blood sugar had been very low. That was deemed the cause. Eddie blames himself for it in a hundred different ways, remembering that morning, how he'd made you late for work cuddling you when you should've been getting ready. 

You skipped breakfast. He thought you'd have something on the way, but you never did. 

It's my fault, he thinks, then and now, the same thought that's plagued him for three days. 

"Do we wanna talk about how we feel today?" Eddie asks, tearing himself away from the aching remembered fear and back into the present. Five minutes until he gets to see you again, until he knows for sure you're alright.

"I feel okay. I want to see mom." 

"We're almost there. You have your flowers from the back yard?" 

Roan waves her picked daisies at him assuredly. Eddie hadn't thought to buy you flowers. He could barely manage the essentials; pyjamas, toothpaste and lip balm. He forgot to get you a toothbrush. He forgot underwear —he had to go back to the store. It was a disaster. 

"What about scary feelings?" Eddie asks softly, reaching back to make a grab for her knee. 

"You said she's okay now." Roan sits forward. "What if her arms stop working again?" 

It was only one arm. You could've come home yesterday if you hadn't been experiencing a weakness called 'Todd's Paresis', a paralysis of the limbs. You slowly regained functionality of it throughout the day, but your headache and confusion remained. 

Eddie thinks that was the worst part. You, in bed, crying because you didn't understand. His eyes burn and well with tears every time he thinks about it. Eddie, I feel sick, you'd mumbled tearfully, reaching for his arm, smudging his tattoos between your careless fingers, I don't know what's– why are we here?

But you were genuinely going to be fine, even if you were scared. In the same way Eddie's going to be okay, and Roan will be, too, as long as he makes sure this isn't hurting her as it's happening. 

"Baby, I promise you her arms won't stop working again. When she had the seizure," —he doesn't like using a big word like that with her, only there's no alternative and she needs to know— "her brain was confused. It was confused for a couple of hours, 'n' when she woke up her body needed time to catch up." He doesn't know how true it is, but it's for Roan to understand her feelings, not to help her medicinal education. "When we said goodnight she could wave bye to us, yeah? So don't worry about mommy's arm." 

"I'm worried about mommy's everything." 

"Yeah?" Eddie feels a mixture of stress at her admission and relief as the hospital parking lot creeps into view. "You want to tell me?" 

"What if she gets another one?" 

"Another seizure?" Eddie asks, turning the wheel. All he has to do is drive into the lot and find a space without crashing. 

"Will she have to come back to hospital?" Roan asks. 

"Yeah, she would have to come back. But… okay, sometimes, people have lots of seizures all the time, and they aren't dangerous. Sometimes they are dangerous," he amends. "But lots of the time they're not. So if she did have more, I would make sure she didn't get hurt and we would have to be brave all over again. We can do that, can't we?" 

He parks the car. 

Roan doesn't look as though his explanation helped. Eddie's running on an empty tank, scrubbing his hands through half dried hair and wishing he was better at this. He gets out of the front seat and opens her door, unclicking her straps, helping her down onto her feet. 

"Babe, I forgot your jacket," he says, surprised at himself as he realises she only has two layers. "Are you cold?" 

She holds out her arms and assesses for herself. "I think so." 

"You'll have to come inside my hoodie. Shall we do that?" he asks with a grin.

Eddie picks Roan up, has her cling to his neck, and zips his hoodie up over her body, their head sticking out of the hole all squished together. She's a laughing mess as they cross the lot and head into the main building of the hospital, infectiously happy as she calls him, "so silly, daddy." 

They do look silly, but Eddie's glad he forgot her jacket. It's nice to hear her laughing like that after such a tough weekend, far from the one he'd pictured. 

He tries to set her down after they've entered the elevator, but she won't go. He holds her tighter instead. 

"We're going to be nice and quiet on the ward 'cos there are other grown ups here, and some of them are in a lot of pain," he reminds her.

"We should've brought flowers for everybody." 

"How many do you have, sweetheart?" he asks, watching the floor number tick upward. 

"I have, um." She pulls her hand back from his neck, four rumpled daisies choked in her fingers. "No, I can't give them to everyone else, I only have enough for mommy." 

Eddie's noticed a very high ratio of 'mommy' when compared to Roan's usual mix these last few days. If anyone asks who her mom is she says it's you enthusiastically, but if she's talking to you face to face she'll call you whatever she feels like. Mom tends to come out more when she's tired, when she's feeling adored, or when she's upset, but that isn't to say she won't call you mom at random moments. Why is the window glass all blurry, mom? I didn't 'member to feed Lucky, mommy, you have to get the fish food. Mom, I need more soda. 

Roan was too old when you met to mistake you for her mother. You're growing into the title. Roan's growing into using it. 

"That's okay. You keep them all for mom," he whispers. 

"We won't show anyone so they don't feel left out," she whispers back. 

"Good plan." 

When Wayne brought Roan by the first night, she was just happy to see you both. Unlike when Eddie burned his arm, you weren't alert enough to be in any pain, and so she didn't have to be scared of that. Wayne kept his cool when he picked her up, mitigating most of the panic she probably would've felt had Eddie been there. She wasn't happy to see you unwell, but she wasn't scared. She hasn't cried. 

Eddie knows from experience that a lack of tears now doesn't mean they aren't coming. 

You're sitting up in bed, showered, in a fresh pair of pyjamas with a cup of coffee held between two strong hands. You have a magazine on your knee. Even your hair looks nice. It's a goddamn miracle in Eddie's eyes —he nearly drops Roan. 

"My Munsons!" you say happily, putting your coffee on the tray table wheeled over your bed. "What the heck, you told me you'd be here at nine and it's nine oh seven. I thought we loved each other?" 

Oh thank fucking God, Eddie thinks. You're okay. You sound yourself again, no pain, no hazy confusion. 

"You're conjoined," you say, smiling. 

Eddie scrambles to unzip his jacket. Roan throws herself out of his arms and on to the end of your bed. You push your tray table and coffee sloshes everywhere in your rush to make room for her. 

"Good morning," she says, slamming into you. Eddie winces at her force, and Roan must recognise her brutality, saying, "Sorry, I hugged you hard." 

"That's okay, I like hard hugs," you say, wrapping your arms around her. 

Eddie gets his knee on the mattress to grab you both in his own hug. Tears burn in his eyes. He doesn't have the wherewithal to blink them back, dropping his lips to your forehead. "I was so worried," he says, unable to hide how high and fraught his voice is. 

"Eddie," you murmur softly. "My love, it's okay. I'm just fine, you didn't have to worry about me." 

"But I did, you were–" He clears his throat. "I love you." 

"I love you too," you say, your hand crawling up his front. You curve your palm around his neck. "Baby, I'm so sorry." 

Eddie laughs and sniffs, sitting back on your bed to wipe his eyes with his wrist. His hands are shaking. "It's okay, it's alright. I don't want you sorry for nothing. We just wanted you to get better. Isn't that right, Ro?" 

Roan picks her head up from your neck, tears pumping down her face. 

Eddie's heart hurts seeing it, even if he was expecting it. You, on the other hand, hadn't had that foresight. You look at her like she's split you clean in two. 

"Princess, what's the matter?" you implore, cuddling her back into your chest. "I know it's really scary being here, lovely girl, I know. It's okay." 

Roan doesn't explain herself, just sobs little sobs into your shirt, clutching you as though she's worried you'll push her away. 

Eddie puts his hand on her back. 

"I'm sorry," you say softly, sounding weak yourself.

"Don't be sorry, are you kidding? It was my fault," Eddie says. 

"What?" 

"I made you late, you didn't eat breakfast–" 

"Eddie–" 

"Don't fucking say sorry–" 

"Eddie," you say again, rubbing Roan's back. You give him a soft look. 

"Sorry," he says. He takes a big breath, victim of an overflow of emotion. 

Eddie slides further up the bed to get a better hold on Roan where she's being hugged. "I'm very sorry for cussing, baby. How are you feeling, huh? Happy to see mommy with both arms, is that it?" 

"So happy," she sobs, pushing her lips closer to your ear and her flowers into your neck. "I brought you flowers to help you get better but you're better already." 

Eddie doesn't know what to do besides pat her back and cling to you.

After a big healthy cry fest, you lay back in your pillows with Roan propped against your front, speaking at a much more acceptable volume considering your three neighbours in the room. You rub her back with one hand and feed her hard pretzels with the other, passing your pinky finger over her cheeks as a makeshift handkerchief to collect the last of her tears. Her daisies wilt in a cup of fruitless water on the nightstand. 

"Is that what all the fuss was about? You worried daddy wasn't gonna enable your snack addiction?" you ask fondly, 

"Dad gives me lots of snacks. We had Benny's two times yesterday and then we had ice cream with every topping for after dinner." 

"I'm glad he's been spoiling you," you say. 

"Too much Benny's, wasn't it?" Eddie prompts, meeting your eyes with a bemused grin, his head twitching with a headache that doesn't fit the mood. "She said to me before breakfast she didn't want any today. We had waffles in the waffle maker and blueberries and strawberries." 

"With squirty cream," Roan says, opening her mouth wide for another pretzel. 

You indulge her and feed her. 

"You didn't enjoy burgers for lunch and dinner?" you ask. 

"We had Reuben sandwiches and loaded fries for dinner, it wasn't as torturous as it sounds." 

"It sounds delicious," you say, kissing Roan's pale forehead. "I wish I'd been there to steal all the bacon bits off of your fries. Now I'm better, maybe we can go and have them again, give me a fighting chance."  

"No!" Roan says with a laugh.

"No? So selfish, Ro, you know I want whatever you're eating." You kiss her crown and adjust your arms around her.

"Now you're better, I think we should have the, um, the special curry dad makes with rice and peas." 

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks. "Mom's better so dad can go back to his life of serfdom. That's awesome." 

In actuality, Eddie would make you complicated, exhausting meals multiple times a day for the rest of your life if it meant you didn't end up here again. He has a strict breakfast plan forming in his mind as you speak.

"They said they were gonna check me one last time and if I'm okay I get to go home. Soon as the doctor can come and see me and make sure I look okay," you say, planing a pretzel past her mouth and into your own with a self satisfied smile.  

"You look beautiful," Eddie says, squeezing your knee. 

"Dad! I was going to say that!" Roan stands up from your lap and pushes him. "You steal everything!" 

"I do not! 

"You do! You stole my strawberry at breakfast and you took my soda straw last night!" 

"I did do both of those things but that doesn't mean I steal everything," Eddie says, looking up into her face happily. 

She has fire behind her eyes, even though her lashes are still wet and clumped together from her earlier tears. Roan harrumphs at him. "You do. You stole one of my gingersnap cookies–" 

"Baby, those were mine. Uncle Wayne got them for me 'cos they're my favourites and I was upset," he says, laughing. 

"Well. Why did you let me have them?" 

Eddie finds her hand to roll her fingers. "Because I'm good at sharing, something you never learned how to do." 

"Don't listen, bubby," you say, tipping pretzels into your mouth. "You're a good sharer." 

In the end, the doctor comes by and tells you to stay until the shift changes for a last set of observations. Eddie and Roan stay just past visiting hours to wait with you, Roan now firmly wedged in his lap, you with his hoodie over your shoulders. In all the chaos, he didn't remember to bring your jacket either. 

"This is why we're getting married," you say. 

"Why, so someone remembers to put jackets on you both?" he asks ruefully, Roan in his lap, your bag packed and ready to go at your feet. 

"No…" You tip your head toward your shoulder a touch. "Because you've done such a good job looking after me, sweetheart. You really have. Thank you for taking care of me." 

"I think the hospital did all the looking after," he says. 

He tries uselessly to shove down that awful feeling again. The memory of you prone in bed with your IV and your heart monitor beeping. It felt like it was beating behind his eyes. 

It's easier to forget now you're feeling almost one hundred percent again. Your hand at his elbow, in your nice white and blue pyjamas, content to be going home again. 

"That's not true… I can't imagine how tired you are right now. If it were you in here, for three days…"  

"Only two," he says. "Today doesn't count." 

"It absolutely counts." 

You pout for a kiss that Eddie eagerly gives you. He kisses you, your cheek, your ear, a line of gratitude because he doesn't care how tired he is or how hard this was. You're better. You can rest at home. 

"I'd be a mess. Don't feel bad about the jackets or start thinking you did a bad job," you say, combing your fingers through his hair. You scoot back to look him in the eye, a ridiculous amount of fondness lining your own, your pinched brows. "You did awesome. A-plus for everything."

"It's not over," he says, stroking Roan's arm where she squirms in his lap, bored. "You're on bed rest, I don't care what the doctor says. And you're taking time off work. Promise me." 

"Promise," you say, holding your hands up. 

"Can I have the time off too from school?" Roan asks. 

Her big doe eyes and her tiny frown would convince him if he hadn't already thought about it. 

He squeezes her chubby cheeks in his palms. "You need a few days to feel better," he agrees. 

"Really?" she asks with a gasp. 

"Yeah, really. You've been really, really brave." He kneads her cheeks gently. "You're such a good girl. You're my brave girl." 

"Super brave," you agree, cheek on Eddie's shoulder. 

Roan sits back with a proud shrug, arms wrapping around her stomach. "I was a bit brave." 

Eddie chucks her under the chin with his knuckle. You get discharged a little while later, Roan and Eddie like a small parade pushing your wheelchair. You hate the attention, complaining to the nurse lightly that you can walk to the car without falling. No one wants to hear it. 

"You're legally required to take it easy for a few days," Eddie says. "You promised me." 

You slump back in the chair. "Fine. Ro, come and sit in my lap, at least? This hospital is a maze, I need company while they find our way out." 

Roan loves that idea. She sits on your knees, back to your chest, your hands around her waist like a seatbelt. 

"Can I push her the rest of the way? I'm sure you're busy," Eddie says to the nurse. He says it so nicely, so politely, that despite his tattoos and his long hair, she doesn't put him in the 'hooligan' box as people tend to do. She hands you over.  

Eddie waits for her to round the corner before ducking down, your backpack in the crook of his elbow, hands tightening around the wheelchair handles. 

"Girls. You better hold on tight. I'm sick of this place and we're leaving right now." 

"Don't you dare." 

"All arms in the ride?" he asks, charging up his push. He takes a preparatory step back. "On three. One, two–" 

"Three!" Roan shouts. 

Eddie races you down the hallway, your nervous laughter so loud it bounces off of every wall on the way out.

[nicolesainz]

Tricks and champions (SV5)

Sebastian Vettel x f!reader

Summary: Retired Sebastian means he’s all the time at your house, hanging with your father ever so casually. There no denying that even with an age gap, you two fancy each other but try to keep it low key. What happens though when you become a passenger in one of Seb’s crazy rides?

warnings: massive sexual tension, angst, fluff, age gap

"God's sake Y/n, go put on something more decent. Sebastian is coming over." My dad said before I could even walk down the stairs. What a nice way to wake up.

"Good morning to you as well dad." I roll my eyes and walk up again to put on some jeans since he so politely asked.

I look through my wardrobe thrice in order to find a fitting one that won't have my dad raging over it. I finally manage to find one that not only won't have my dad protesting over it, but certainly will have Seb staring at my ass for quite some time.

The bell rings as I am trying to put on some light make up. A touch of red lipstick and a hint of eyeliner is what a girl needs at 10 am after a night of doing tequila bodyshots off her best friend.

Its insane how the entire night I was thinking of Sebastian, dancing with me in the middle of the club, his hands all over my body, holding me firmly and laying kisses on my neck, leaving marks of his ownership on me.

But it's a pity this was only a fantasy. Even though many guys came up to me to make their move, I rejected them easier than the way colleges reject my brother's applications. Sebastian was probably with my dad again, showing off his brand new Porsche 718 Boxster, a gift that he got from his former teammate Mark Webber.

"Y/n, can you come down for a moment please?" My father shouts and I clench my fists in annoyance. I swear to god if he asks me to be a servant again and make him coffees every now and then I will spit in one of them.

I walk down the stairs one more time and I can see in my father’s eyes the relief of me wearing something decent, more importantly my eyes fall on Sebastian who is scanning my body for head to toe, giving enough attention to my slightly showing cleavage after wearing the push up bra.

“Good morning Sebastian. How can I help you dad?” I say in a very polite manner, crossing my arms under my breasts, enhancing the volume and shocking Sebastian even more.

I know it’s filthy, I know it’s dirty. He’s 36 and I am 21, but it’s not my fault Sebastian is an extremely handsome man, with beautiful blue eyes, soft blonde curls and a mustache that not only makes him very fuckable but also fitting to my type.

“Actually, Sebastian was looking for volunteers to test out his new car. He wants a passenger so he can try out some new tricks he’s learned or test some he already knows from the formula one car.”

“And since you were always very keen on sports cars, I thought you’d be very fitting for the job. What do you say?” Sebastian adds after my dad, and all I do I smirk at the idea of him flexing his racing abilities whilst I am teasing him so badly.

“Of course! I’d be more than happy to help you out!” I smile and exclaim proudly, whilst putting on my jacket.

“We will talk in three hours. Y/n, behave yourself, I know you’re a lady and obey to what Sebastian tells you to do” Oh I for sure will obey to his commands. Whether that’s me praising his skills or sucking his dick.

“Let’s go! The track is clear now and I’m allowed free access.” He grabs his keys and we walk outside together.

“Wait, what do you mean track? The Nürburgring? Really?” I reply shocked and Sebastian nods excitingly.

“Oh god you’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?” I say with fear in my voice, once we get into his Porsche, Seb’s hand lands softly on my inner thigh, caressing it.

“Oh no Liebling, I would never hurt you. At least not like that.” His grip is more intense, as I flinch but do not remove his hand from my thigh. The touch is affecting me more as I feel my cunt slightly watering with the thought of his fingers inside me.

“Not like that? You have other plans Vettel?” I look at him and with a twist of my body, my breast slightly show even more now, my bra almost popping out. That causes Seb to groan a bit as his eyes land on them and then swerve back on the street.

“Let’s just say my torturing methods include pleasure. And especially when it comes to you.” His hand moves up more than it should, caressing up and down my fully clothed womanhood. Oh dear god that feels good and you can barely tell his touching me.

“And who says I’ll allow you to torture me?” I softly moan accidentally and try to bring myself back into my senses.

“You heard your father. Obey to what I say.” he lowered his voice and I gulped hardly. For most, Sebastian was a sweetheart but who said he wasn't a secret devil?

Once he removed his hand and placed it back on the wheel, I instantly regretted on agreeing at this ride. He is a massive soft spot for me and I am way too vulnerable when I am with Sebastian.

He knows me ever since I was a kid and he was rocking the formula one world by winning four consecutive world championships with red bull. Even though he retired last season, I still see him as one of my favourite drivers.

And I see him as my secret temptation as well.

Sebastian always told me that I would have a bright future in motorsport. Whenever me and my dad would visit him during the race weekend, I’d always spit random facts or stats just to show of my intelligence.

I will never forget the moment when Sebastian won this third world championship in Brazil and after he got out of the car, the first person who he hugged outside of his team was me. He picked me up, because I was wearing a jersey with the phrase “Weltmeistet 2012!” Followed by a picture of him, posing with the infamous index finger.

The exact one he dares to finger me with if I misbehave.

Luckily, my house is close to the circuit, so in less than 20 minutes we have arrived. The gates are fully open and we pull up from behind the garages, whose gates are open and probably have been since 2020.

When he enter the pit lane and the bar is open as well, he drives slowly all the way to the start-finish line. We sit there in silence for a moment before Sebastian looks at me with a devilish look in his eyes.

“I need you to be completely honest with me. I need to know if grandpa Seb still has it in him.” He says and a giggle escapes my lips with the characterization he used for himself. Grandpa.

Daddy? Sure. Not Grandpa though.

“Come on Seb. You’re not that old. You left Formula One a year ago. I don’t think a four times world champion gets rusty this easily.” I reply to his statement with all honesty.

“I’m not old enough to fuck you sweetheart. But to pull the tricks you’re about to witness, maybe.” I gasp at his comment and my eyes widen. Did he really say what I heard?

He turns on the engine once again and the quickly speeds through turn one but instead of drifting, I feel the car balancing on Seb’s side only.

“Stay still schatz.” He says, fully focused on the road.

I am even trying to hold my breath, besides my balance. What is he doing?

The car steadies itself back after turn 4 and speeds once again without breaking through turns 5 up to 7. After that, he breaks slightly and the car swerves at the front and drives with the two front wheels only.

“Are you trying to get us killed? What did I ever do to you?” I hold on to my seatbelt as Sebastian laughs out, trying to be extremely careful simultaneously.

“For you my dear, death with be slow and sweet. Don’t you worry.” I don’t know what is going on inside his mind and whether I like it or not.

Thankfully at turn 12, we balance once again and I let out a loud sigh. Slowly the drives up to turn 13 when I suddenly notice a ramp in the middle of the straight, closing on turn 16.

Sebastian fully floors the speed and I shut my eyes, as I feel the car levitating from the ramp, but surprisingly not falling down as abruptly as I imagined, drifting into turn 17 and then straight to the start-finish line once more.

Once I open my eyes, I look next to me and Sebastian is eyeing me with a raised eyebrow, waiting for my reaction.

“If that was your plan to kill me, then I’m glad it didn’t work. Nevertheless, I was surprised and weirded out on how you know all these tricks. Also, I was a bit fascinated, not going to lie.”

“Do you really thought I was going to kill you? My baby? I’m not as cruel as you think. And thank you for the compliments.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Who taught you these tricks?”

“I think the person you should refer to, is your father.” He unbuckles his seatbelt so he can turn to face me more comfortably.

“Impossible!”

“And yet true. Why do you think we are this close? Near death experiences bring people together.” He winks at me and my eyes roll all the way back to my fluttering heart.

“My old man has impressed me.”

“And now it’s time for this old man to as well.”

“Weren’t these tricks enough?”

“So you want me to stop then baby?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“So definitely not huh? Haven’t seen you this sure about something ever since you decided to dump this pathetic boy of yours. And I still don’t know the reason why.”

“If only you could look inside my thoughts.”

“I can look inside your thighs if you want me to.”

“Is that an offer Vettel?”

“More like a statement, but take it however you like. As long as it comes true.”

Sebastian brings his face closer to mine, his lips are ghosting over mine and his hot minty breath filling my lungs with joy and extreme desire. His tongue swipes my lower quivering lip and a moan is my reaction to his actions.

“Care to share your thoughts darling?”

[charliehoennam]

from cramps to comfort

a/n: my bestie @harmonity-vibes has been having a bit of a tough day and i just wanted to make something nice for her. luv u, hon 💗

pairing: tommy cahill x f!reader

summary: you're on your period, everything sucks so tommy makes it his mission to help you feel better

warnings: mentions of blood, period, fluff, language, not proof-read

Getting off of work is the only thing you've been looking forward to the entire day. All you can think about is getting home and stewing yourself in a nice, hot bath to relief the aching cramps you’ve been feeling.

The day started off terribly wrong right off the bat. You had felt the cramps settling in the previous day and you even set a pad to try and prevent any accidents, but that was a total failure.

You woke up to the large red stain on your bedsheets and you just knew it was going to be one of those days.

As if the staining paranoia and the gut-twisting cramps weren’t enough to make you constantly uncomfortable, you also struggled to deal with your stupid fucking hormones.

Everything and everyone have been annoying or frustrating you for the past couple days. You hate that you feel like ripping everyone’s heads off and having their spleen for dessert. It’s not their fault; you’ve even managed to piss yourself off to the brink of tears. You just can’t help it.

You had no choice, but to brace yourself for the day. You thought about calling in sick, but you figured you could suck it up and face the day. It’d be over quickly and there was so much that you had to do.

After a hot shower to clean yourself up, you got dressed and took your phone from its charger by your nightstand in your rush to catch up with the clock.

Seeing Tommy’s name on the screen almost makes you forget about the pain.

“Morning, beautiful 🥰 Feeling better? Hoped we could have dinner together tonight?”

You read his message, but you have no time to write back. You’re running late thanks to your alarm and mother nature, so you scramble through your apartment to grab everything you could need.

The minute you lock your door, your phone starts buzzing. You lift it up to see who’s calling you and see your boyfriend’s face smiling back at you.

“Hey, Tommy”

“Morning, baby. You missed your alarm again?”

“Yeah, I think I forgot to set it last night. I really passed out, I was so tired.”

He can hear your footsteps going down the stairs as you make your way to the front entrance.

“Are you feeling any better though? You said you were feeling icky yesterday.”

“And now I know why. I got my period.”

“Oh, damn. I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s not your fault, babe. Just Mother Nature being a bitch.”

“Is there anything I can d-“

“Fucking son of a bitch” you grumble as you push the stuck door to open. “Door never works. Sorry, babe. What did you say?”

“I asked if there’s anything I can do?”

“No, Tommy” you say holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you fish for your bus pass in your bag. “Fuck!” you groan. “Why can’t anything go right today?”

“What happened?”

“I gotta go back for my stupid fucking bus pass. I forgot it at home.”

“Baby, lemme give you a ride. I’m just a couple blocks over anyways.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be going to work? I don’t wanna make you late.”

“You won’t be, alright? Just wait there and I’ll pick you up, ok?”

“Alright, Tommy. Thank you so much.”

“See you in ten minutes, babe.”

You hang up and sit on the curb to wait for your boyfriend. The cold air tightens your muscles and you’re reminded of the pain in your core. You took medicine in your morning rush, but apparently, it wasn’t enough to numb it out entirely.

You sit and wait with your head tucked down over your arms. You’re so ready for the day to end.

Tommy soon arrives to pick you up as promised, but the wide grin on his face quickly disappears when he realizes how shitty you’re actually feeling.

It breaks his heart to see you in pain and feeling down in the dumps. He’s got a natural instinct for making people laugh and feel good. Not being able to do even that makes him feel useless.

It reminds him of the mental breakdown his brother went through years ago. Although he's gotten better and was able to return to his family a recovered man, depression hits him from time to time when he remembers what he had to endure.

Tommy never fails to cheer him up and remind him that he's a survivor. He might not be a doctor, but he does whatever he can to remind his loved ones that they are loved.

He listens to you vent on route to your workplace, making encouraging remarks when you mention your driving test is today during your lunch break. Tommy does his best to lift your spirits and reminds you of how well you’ve done during his lessons.

He’d been teaching you for the past couple weeks and, although he says you’ve improved a lot, you’re still nervous about the test because the instructor you were paired up with wasn’t exactly the friendliest of folks. It also didn’t help that Tommy is your boyfriend; he could be a little biased.

As you arrive at work, you thank him for the ride and kiss him good-bye. The hand he sets on your cheek makes you want to cancel the entire day just to be with him.

“Hey… All you gotta do is try the best you can today. And if it doesn’t go well, there’s always a tomorrow.”

His gentle voice chases your worries away.

“I know, baby. Thank you. Wish me luck?”

“All the luck in the world, sweetheart. Lemme know how it goes?”

“I will,” he pecks you once more before you climb out of his truck.

“Dinner at your place or mine?” he questions rolling the window down.

“Uhm, mine? Is that ok?”

“Fine by me, beautiful. Have a nice day. Love you!”

“Love you too” you chuckle and step back to let him roll the window back up. Tommy waits until you’re safely in the building to drive away.

Despite your best efforts, the day does not go as well as you had hoped.

The driving test was a total dud. Your instructor was a grade-A asshole. Your boss is riding you over some stupid report he managed to lose and accused you of not handing it in. Your insides feel like knives are churning in your walls. The headache you already took a second dose of painkillers after lunch still persists.

You can’t stop watching the clock and it seem that, as it gets closer to clock-out, time seems to go by even slower.

While you wither away at work, Tommy heads to the local drugstore. Standing the middle of the aisle, he stares at the vast variety of pads and tampons with a store basket in hand.

"What the f-" he whispers to himself as his eyes roam around in confusion. "Why does there have to be so many?"

His brows furrow like he's trying to build a spaceship. He picks one up to read the packaging. It might as well be in a foreign language because nothing makes sense to him.

He has no idea what difference between a pantyliner and overnight pad is. He doesn't understand why the tampons come in sizes.

Desperately confused, he whips his phone to dial his brother's number.

"Sam, hey! You got a minute?"

"Yeah. What's up?"

"I'm trying to get some lady shit for my girlfriend, but I don't understand any of this stuff."

"Yeah, I've been there before."

"Like how do i know what her size is? Is it like the size of her lady bits?"

"No," Sam chuckles. "It's according to her flow."

"How the fuck do i know that?"

"Just get the medium tampons when in doubt. And I'd suggest taking overnight pads. Some girls don't like sleeping with tampons."

"Alright. What are wings though? Should I get them with or without the wings?"

"They're like parts that open up and stick to the underwear, so it doesn't keep moving around. I always get the ones with wings."

Tommy nods and places the phone to hold with his shoulder as he grabs the products from the shelves and sets them in the basket.

"You should probably take some Pamprin too. Midol doesn't work for every girl."

"What the fuck is that?" he frowns.

"Medicine for cramps, Tommy. And my tip? When you're in her bathroom, take pictures of the brands she uses so you don't forget."

"Fuck, I didn't think of that. I gotta do that. Thanks, man."

With 5 minutes left of the extra hours you had to put in due to the driving test, you gather your things and head to the bathroom for a quick tampon change before starting your journey home on the bus.

You haphazardly wrap your scarf around your neck and hook your jacket on to finally make your long-awaited exit, thankfully the day is done.

The door flies open as you eagerly walk outside, but you freeze in your stride as you see Tommy standing in the parking lot, stood against his truck smoking a cigarette as he waits for you in the blistering cold.

He grins watching your face light up at the surprise.

“How long have you been waiting out here?”

“Not too long,” he lies. He’s freezing his balls off, but he doesn’t want to make you feel bad about it, especially since the intention was to surprise you. “I thought you could use a ride.”

“I most definitely can,” you nod walking towards him as he stomps his cigarette out.

He flashes a dopey smile as he cranes his head to kiss you hello. He tastes like smoke, but you don’t mind it. You’re just happy to see him and to feel his prickly beard on your skin.

“Got a couple things for you,” he smirks down at you.

“Oh? Like what?”

“You gotta get home and see,” he chuckles slyly.

You and Tommy had given each other a copy of your home keys as a special milestone in your relationship. It was a major step for him. His time in prison taught him to appreciate his freedom and personal space more, so allowing you to come and go freely meant he trusts you beyond comprehension.

“Just tell me there’s food. I really don’t wanna cook tonight.”

“There’s food, baby. I promise,” he smirks opening the passenger door to help you climb inside.

After a short straight drive home, you head up to your apartment and gasp as you walk inside.

On the table, you find a beautiful bouquet of flowers set in a pretty vase. That wasn’t there before. On the breakfast bar, you see you a box of pizza along with your favorite chips and chocolates all arranged neatly.

“There’s your favorite Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer too. And,” he pauses to walk over to the kitchen, grabbing a plastic bag off the counter. “I wasn’t sure what products you like better. I don't really understand this stuff but I got you medium tampons, night pads, Pamprin and some fuzzy socks,” he grins proudly. “I just thought they were cute.”

You laugh as you walk over to hug him, tears prickling at your eyes.

“Baby, this is so thoughtful. Thank you so much.”

 “Are you crying?” he asks worriedly.

“Yeah, but to be fair, I’ve cried like three time today already. It’s beyond my control. I’m just so tired and in pain all the time.”

“Aw, baby. I’m sorry. That’s gotta be tough. Is there anything else I can do? I-I can run you a bath? Hot water helps, right?” You nod in agreement.

The bubble bath you soak in melts your pain away. It could just be the medicine working, but the warmth of the water provides the relief you’ve been seeking the whole day.

Looking over at the feminine products on the bathroom sink counter, you smile to yourself wondering how you had managed to get so lucky with Tommy.

He might be a little rough around the edges. He smokes, he curses like a sailor, he’s got a temper, but he also takes care of you so well unlike any of your exes ever have before or at least he tries to.

“How you doing in there, sweetheart?” he smiles, snapping you out of your thoughts as he leans in the doorway already dressed in his warm sweatpants and white t-shirt.

“This feels so fucking good. You have no idea.”

“I don’t mean to rush you, baby. But the pizza’s all heated up. You need to eat too.”

“I know, I’m just so tired to move.”

“Yeah? Do you want me to help?” he asks genuinely worried. “I can dry you off and-and, you know…p-put it in you?”

You follow his hands as he reaches for the open box of tampon and takes one out to study it curiously.

“How the hell do you get this inside though?” he asks frowning confusedly as he lifts the box to read the instructions.

“Where’s the applicator? Wait, was I supposed to buy that too? Does that come separately?”

Despite his eagerness to help, you can tell he’s slightly nervous of the idea of putting a tampon in you. The instruction and the product alone have him so baffled.

Your laughs echo through the bathroom as he blushes and chuckles along shyly.

“I’m just saying, I ain’t scared of a little blood.”

“Thanks, babe. But I got it under control.”

[voidandabyssal]

Heyyy sorry to annoy you with another ask but I really need this rn-

I stepped into a big shard of glass today because I am just silly like that /hj

Anyway,I wanted to know what will the skeletons react to there fem!s/o literally stepping on a piece of glass and trying to play it off as if she was alright-

Specific skelly boys:UT sans,HT sans,SF papyrus,SF sans,US sans,US papyrus

Have a nice day

the sillyness rlly hits hard, also I only did the first four, as per my requirements, sorry!

Sans:

his face drops completely when he sees your foot landing down on the glass

you and him were just joking around the kitchen, as usual

when you dropped a glass and it shattered completely.

he insists you sit down, though he's lowkey panicking a little from the blood

he'll never get used to the fact that humans just leak blood

eugh!

But he manages to lull you into sitting on the couch and quickly calls Toriel over

she's a much more experienced with human medical care

breathes a sigh of relief once your cleared to walk again

"thank the stars that's over, let's never get injured again"

Axe (HT sans):

you're not fooling him

sit back down!

he didn't spend years hunting down humans, learning what makes them tick just for his s/o to tell him she's fine when she's got a shard of glass sticking out of her!

he grabs you by the waist and plops you down on a chair

he yanks out the shard harder than intended and quickly feels guilty once he hears your yelp

he wraps your foot up and carries you to the couch

there, now you can't hurt yourself anymore :)

though you may be stuck on that couch for a while.

Axe needs some cuddles to feel better!

Mutt (SF Papyrus):

oh that's not good, that's really not good!

Blacks going to be so mad at the both of you

blood in his designer carpet and all

this time, it was Mutts fault.

you were both chasing each other around the house. Like some scarier version of tag

when Mutt corners you and you end up accidentally slipping and cutting yourself on the glass table

he feels so bad

Mutt just lifts you off the floor completely. He's not actually acknowledging anything you're saying he just panics

despite the tough front he puts on, Mutt never wants to hurt those he cares about

It scares him a little how easy it is to hurt you

Black (SF Sans)

"sit down"

"no, no, I'm fine, really!"

Black levels the most unimpressed look he can offer.

It quickly gets you settled back down onto the chair.

How you managed to injure yourself so quickly, he'll never know. He was gone for five minutes! How?!

Luckily Black came prepared, he knew, given that there was a human living with him now, that one day medical attention would be required

ergo, he bought a whole medkit to store inside one of the kitchen cabinets

It's a little overkill, but now the shard is out of your foot and its nice and tightly wrapped.

No infections in this household!

[ashsd3ad]

# being gojo satoru’s therapist.

word count: 2.5k-ish

some angst (suicide is mentioned very briefly), no use of y/n, cursing, female!reader, idiots unknowingly pining for each other, emotionally constipated gojo

it was so fucking stupid, he didn’t need any of this. he’s the strongest sorcerer of the modern era for god’s sake.

why on earth was he being forced to see a goddamn therapist?

upon yaga’s request- well, demand actually, he was required to see a shrink because, as the principal worded it, he needed ‘a lot of fucking help’.

of course, he refused at first.

thee satoru gojo in a shrink’s office? what was that, some twisted fucking joke?

sadly for him though, yaga decided to put his foot down and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. he threatened the snowy haired man to take away his teaching job if he didn’t get the help he apparently desperately needed.

so it began, satoru gojo’s journey with his therapist.

over the course of a couple of months, satoru had grown accustomed to his routine with his therapist.

he met up with her in her cozy little office, she tried to make the conversation about his feelings and he’d redirect it to something else entirely, mainly complaining about higher ups in his field.

that always earned him a look, but she never forced him to share his inner monologues with her.

she couldn’t do that even if she wanted to anyways, he wouldn’t let her.

all of this led to an unlikely.. friendship?

well, satoru wouldn’t exactly call it a friendship, but it was.. something.

that day, was no different than their usual meetings.

a tall and lean figure made its way into her office and sat on the comfortable armchair in front of her about 30 minutes prior, but all she got from him up until that point were silences and changes of subject.

“and how did that make you feel?” god here she went again with that stupid fucking question.

satoru sighed, stretching his legs and arms a little.

sometimes she forgot how massive he actually was.

the woman briefly averted her eyes, looking everywhere but at his stupidly stunning figure, afraid yet another crack would appear in her professional persona.

she’d tell herself it wasn’t her fault, it was only natural after all! he was just very nice to look at.

she could be pretty dense, for a therapist.

“you worry too much,” he said casually, albeit a little irritated, after some back and forth. for some reason he couldn’t quite understand, his mood wasn’t the best that day, but he still tried to keep his usual laid back attitude, hiding the annoyance behind a pout. for her sake.

“i’ve told you countless times, i’m here just because i was basically forced, nothing is actually wrong with me.. if yaga didn’t constantly check in with you, i wouldn’t even attend our ‘sessions’ in the first place”.

well.. if he had to be completely honest, satoru had told only half the truth.

he attended their meetings also because his therapist was a very pretty sight to look at, and surprisingly interesting to talk to (when she wasn’t trying to pry into his feelings, that is.)

satoru was more than aware she was only trying to do her job, he really was. he just.. didn’t care, so he decided he was going to make it her problem. maybe he’d manage to get her to her wits end and she’d finally give up on him.

‘please don’t give up on me’

gojo leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. a playful smile took over his previously pouty lips as he said something along the lines of ‘why don’t we talk about YOUR feelings instead?’.

maybe he could joke his way out of this? he hoped he could.

his therapist sighs, scrunching her nose and pinching the bridge of it slightly. cute.

“we don’t talk about my feelings because i am your therapist, not the other way around, gojo” she countered, trying to keep the conversation as workplace appropriate as possible, suppressing the urge to headbutt the stubbron (and gorgeous) man in front of her.

the woman was very proud of her skills as a therapist, so much so that the lack of progress with this peculiar snowy haired man left her particularly dissatisfied, so she started putting slightly more effort than usual in trying to crack his façade, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“and, for your information, i do worry about you for a reason” she continued, voice firm, stern even.

‘she really worries about me?’

“judging by the very limited amount of insight on yourself you’ve provided me, you really do need someone to talk to about your feelings” his pretty therapist added, looking at him straight in the eyes.

she looked like she wanted to obliterate his sunglasses with her mind.

‘don’t look at me like that’

feelings feelings feelings, he was so tired of hearing her going on about them.

after that statement his mood quickly worsened even more, his face fading in a cold, borderline cynical, front.

‘well, thats a first’ she thought to herself, a little taken aback.

satoru had been curious about what exactly she saw in him from day one. was it concern? pity?

‘i don’t want her pity’

whatever it was, it was a waste of time on both ends.

"i see" he hummed thoughtfully as he tapped his fingers against his knee, pondering on his next words. "can I ask you something?"

“sure, go ahead” she answered calmly, a bit of unsureness and skepticism detectable in her voice given the sudden shift in his character.

satoru seemed to stare right through her for a few moments. his gaze was cold and unmoving, his eyes felt like they were piercing hers in a way that no other client's ever has.

“have you ever considered…” he begins slowly, voice low “that you might not be as good at this job as you think you are?”

his words were sharp, each one chosen with great intent. there was something behind his eyes that both fascinated and terrified her.

‘im sorry’

her eyes widened momentarily at his question.

a flash of annoyance, maybe even anger, thundering in them as her eyebrows furrowed, her lips parting to throw an equally biting remark back at him.

be professional.

she took a deep breath and crossed one leg over the other, speaking calmly once again.

“if you want to criticise my skills you’re free to do so, even though you’re not qualified to do so” the woman retorted.

“and if you want a different therapist you’re more than free to ask mr. yaga” her words did have a little edge to them, but she still managed to keep most of her composure.

before the man in front of her could get a word in, she added one more thing.

“but from my perspective, a therapist’s perspective, you do need one” she said as she tapped her heeled foot on the ground.

‘i know i need help’

‘help me please’

satoru pondered for a couple of seconds, then he chuckled humourlessly as he leaned back in his chair.

his face was stoic, similar to a statue, and his eyes lacked their usual shininess, almost looking muddy.

not that she’d noticed anyways, considering they were hidden behind his glasses.

there was an intensity to his gaze though, one that made even just looking at him feel as if she was under a microscope.

"I think you're taking this too personally." he hums, mocking her ever so slightly.

"i’m not criticising your skills per se, all I'm saying is..." he pauses for a moment, considering how best to say it. "even a blind man could see your ‘concern’ for me runs deeper than the usual pity you feel for all your patients”

“you must think i’m really fucking pathetic, huh?”

what the fuck was he going on about?

“my concern for you, or any other patient for the matter, is not based on pity in the first place, gojo” she looked at him, her face bewildered.

“you think i pity you?” she raised both her eyebrows in question, the incredulous expression still on her face.

satoru chuckles. though the sound is soft and quiet, delightful to hear, something about its sweetness makes it bone chilling.

nonetheless, this made her excited.

it was the widest range of emotions he’d ever shown her.

‘im breaking through!’

“do you not?” he asks, shifting in his chair, and leaning back in it once again, folding his arms over his broad chest.

“why else would you be trying as hard as you are to ‘fix’ me?” he asks, a frown stretched across his gorgeous face.

“i’m just a client like any other, but yet here you are! trying your damn hardest to change me.”

ah, so he did noticed her extra effort huh. fuck.

still, who the hell put the idea she pitied him into his stupid head?

“i do not pity you, gojo. i’ve seen patients far worse than you are” she said, almost sounding a little defensive.

“and i’m not trying to ‘fix you’, or change you for that matter! that is not my job!” she exclaimed, a smidge too loud, massaging her temple with one of her hands immediately after. probably to chase away the growing headache he’d given her.

‘i managed to piss off my own therapist what the fuck is wrong with me and why do i even care?’

before he was completely swallowed by his self deprecating thoughts, her voice brought him back once again, like a saving grace.

“my job is helping patients navigate through their emotions, using methods that are tailored perfectly for them” she explained.

“i communicate with my patients to help them find a way to process their feelings that works for them. i do not pity them, i just help them” she paused “..or, well, try to. if they let me” the woman concluded, face serious.

his face twists in distaste as he listened to her speak. bullshit.

“that’s the thing though,” he responds slowly “i don’t need help with that”

the man pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, finally meeting her eyes properly.

‘he’s so pretty’

“you think I need your little ‘tools’? or to talk about my feelings??” he said, annoyance lacing his voice.

“i have always known how to process my emotions. I don’t need you to teach me how. i’m. fine.”

she barely held back the urge to scoff.

gojo had never realised how bad his coping mechanism were, and she was just trying to get him to develop healthier ones, bit by bit.

‘communicating would be a great fucking start’

evidently though, it wasn’t working, so she decided it was time to switch up her approach and be a little brazen, maybe that would work.

“you? processing emotions? that’s a good one.” she snickered

he scrunched his nose up, questioningly “and what could you possibly mean by that, huh?” he felt himself get more and more agitated as the seconds ticked by.

he felt like he was being stripped naked, exposed, against his will. all the things he’d worked so hard to bury, the careless persona he’d built..

‘stop looking at me, stop finding out things about me i don’t want you to know.’

“you bottle everything up, pretend it’s fine and let it eat at you from the inside, little by little” she looked at him menacingly, her eyes narrowed into slits.

“that big goofy grin, or the confident smirk you put on, doesn’t work in here, gojo”

she clicked her tongue in disapproval. “in this office, i’m reading you, not the other way around” she continued ad she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“i know you’re used to getting you way, because you’re smart, even though it doesn’t look like it, but as long as your ass is sat in that chair, you won’t find a way to give me answers you think will please me”

“if your goal is to get me to tell yaga to get off your back, then we’re going to be here for loooong. i’m striving for the truth and i’m going to get it”

to hell with being professional.

the man remained silent for a few moments, his expression almost..hurt? “…I think I hate you.”

he smiled in defeat, leaning forward once again, and though his voice was even and calm, it came out a bit strained.

“no, I know I do.” he didn’t though, and that confused him to no end.

the woman gently laid her hands in her lap, trying to ignore the sting his words left in her chest as her voice went back to its usually stoic connotation, completely discarding the venom it previously dripped in.

“i get that a lot from patients like yourself” she started, calmly.

“usually, they drop therapy after a few session because they can’t handle the truth being thrown in their face and then, after a while..”

a pause, like she was choosing her next words carefully “they end up dropping dead on the floor when the fire crew cuts the rope they hung themselves from” she finished, her expression darkening ever so slightly.

“you think you don’t need help, you think you’re fine just ignoring your emotions, but one day they will catch up to you and it’ll be too late to save you” her voice lowered, almost shamefully, as she tore her eyes away from his.

“nobody will be there to save you from drowning.”

satoru looked shocked for a moment, then he felt a sudden and unprovoked rage take over his body.

how dare she?

he wasn’t like that. he was strong. the strongest, actually.

he wordlessly jumped up from of his seat and went to stride straight out of the room, with the intention of never stepping foot there again, but then he stopped, his back still to her.

for some weird reason he couldn’t quite comprehend, gojo felt the need to still try and prove he was fine, despite the fact the issues he’d tried so hard to hide had been uncovered and brought up to the scorching sunlight.

“i’m not stupid. i am perfectly aware shit might eventually catch up to me, but i’m the strongest fucking being that ever walked this earth, i’ll deal with it”

what was meant to be a powerful statement, came out sounding whiny and hoarse, almost like he was trying to delude himself into believing his own words.

‘at least he admitted he has issues, progress is progress’

his therapist opened her mouth to talk, but he didn’t give her a chance.

he felt like he was being consumed by a sudden and foreign rage.

“BESIDES WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE?!” he suddenly screamed, rapidly turning to face her again, his glasses being hauled across the room in the process.

“why are you that concerned over some stranger like me?” he adds, his expression hard, “do you genuinely, truly, believe I’m worth helping?!”

‘we’re going to have to work on these self deprecating thoughts’

‘im the strongest, i don’t need to be cared for.’

“yes, i do” she stood up from her chair in a (failed) attempt to not crane her neck upwards to look at him.

“i do believe you are worth helping” she assured him in a gentle voice “you can walk out now, if you wish, but never forget this is a safe space where you’re free to talk, satoru” she said, her words surprisingly comforting.

“you’re not a god, you’re human just like the rest of us”

being called human never felt so good.. and it was also the first time she had ever called him by his first name.

and just like that, the usual gojo satoru was back, cracking jokes.

“do you normally call your clients by their first name, or am i special?” he asked, the question dripping with sarcasm and a tiny bit of flirt, as a small smile appeared on his lips.

the angry pretty boy has been calmed down, success.

“you definitely have a savior complex” he added quietly, chuckling a bit “it’s cute”.

a smile made its way on her face too as she shook her head a little, her cheeks a little warm at the compliment “whatever lets you sleep at night”

the woman sat back down, once again crossing one leg over the other.

“now, will you sit down and give therapy an actual chance, satoru?” she looked up at him, expectantly and hopefully.

“yeah.. yeah, i’ll do that.”

gojo satoru may have been the strongest sorcerer in modern history, but he was still human like everyone else.

☆

| @ASHSD3AD ‘S WORK, DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE. |

[idontplaytrack]

Heels and shove

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, coarse language, violence, injury

Janis’ girlfriend of a year transfers to North Shore, catching the attention of many.

I tried my best anon, hahah. Enjoy:) I also couldn't think of a title lol.

“What are you looking at?” Damian asks.

“Today’s y/n’s first day at the school and I’m hoping she isn’t running late.”

“Why didn’t you guys come here together?”

“She woke up late and told me to come to school first.”

“Oh, no. Did she get enough sleep last night?”

“Why do you think she woke up late, Damian?” Janis asked him in return.

“Sorry.” Damian bit back a laugh.

Before Janis could respond to that, she spots you walking into the school. The sound of your boots hitting the floor with every step you took had the students look up and around to see where it was coming from. And when they realised it was an unfamiliar face, the buzzing began instantly, all of them wondering who on earth you were. Dressed a black lace long sleeve top underneath your tank top, you had on a matching mini skirt to along with your thigh high boots.

You head straight to Janis and Damian. “Hey, you made it.” Janis smirked an arm finding its way around your waist.

“Hey.” You gave her a small smile, then said hi to Damian.

“You’re attracting quite a bit of attention.” He says quietly.

“So?” You and Janis answered in sync before she presses a kiss to your lips.

“Oh, who do we have here?”

Regina. Of course. Of course she’d show up at this very second.

“None of your business, Regina.” You snarked, going along with her tone.

“Oh, my God!” Regina gasps, “Is this your girlfriend, Janis?”

“And that concerns you, how?” Janis shot her a look of annoyance. That feigned niceness. She was being hella sarcastic. Or maybe just bitchy, as usual. Whatever it was, you weren’t having it.

“Maybe you should get on your way.” You said, hoping she’d somehow get the hint.

Janis’ grip around you tightens. “Now we know who’s the top and who’s the bottom.” Regina smirked. Oh you wanted to punch that right off her face.

“Oh, you don’t know shit, you Plastic.” You scoff.

“Baby, just ignore her. She’s not worth any of your time.”

“Please, you were obsessed with me.”

“That’s not the compliment you think it is.” Janis laughs in disbelief, ready to lead you away, to your homeroom. The first bell rings.

“Saved by the bell. Let’s go.” Damian shoves the two of you past Regina and her little posse that’d just caught up.

Well, you ended up being in the same homeroom as Janis, Damian and Cady— Cady was nice, but you knew she infiltrated The Plastics for awhile and what that caused. So you were a little wary of her. Later that day in third period, you sat at your desk in trig when you saw that blonde walk in. Well, fuck.

She smirked at you. You were paying no attention to her, but she still managed to irritate you. She kept interrupting the class, talking to her friend. And seated right behind you too, so you could hear everything that they were saying very clearly. “I’m not afraid of you. If you continue to say anything about me or Janis, you’ll be so sorry.“

“I’ll be waiting, baby.”

“Do not call me that.” You replied harshly, focusing back on the lesson before the teacher could fault you for it.

And when that class was over, she still kept following you. “Regina, what are you even doing?” Gretchen— that’s who that was. “Why are you so interested in bothering them? Just to get a reaction? For what? G, that is so immature. We’ve just been through that whole Burn Book thing and you want to do that again?”

“Relax, guys. I was just joking,”

“Not funny. Piss off.” You stated, then quickly escaped, making your way to American Literature class.

————

“You’re in the same trig class as Regina and Gretchen? Damn.” Damian’s eyes widen in shock for a moment.

“She’s really just doing so much for nothing. I don’t know what the fuck kind of ‘reaction’ she’s expecting but I’m just so pissed off at this point.” You huffed, getting out your notebook.

Okay, of course, this was your favourite class so far since you were with Damian and Janis. But then after that, you and Janis were separated again so you could go to AP History. But lunch, lunch was after that which was great because you were getting a little bit hungry. “Okay, class, I will see you all on Thursday. Class dism—” The bell interrupted Mr. Daniels, “Class dismissed.”

Gleefully, you exited the classroom while talking to the friend you’d just made, Elise. “No, I got transferred here because people at my old school decided it wasn’t right for me to retaliate after I got bullied.”

“That’s so rude of them.” Elise said back.

“I left voluntarily.” You added on.

“Go you.” Elise laughs, “What’s your next class?”

“I have lunch. I’m just about to go meet up with my girlfriend and our best friend. You?”

“Oh, I have gym.” She tells you, “I’ll see you again on Thursday though. Bye, y/n.”

“See you.” You waved then she departs, going in the direction opposite of yours.

And then the distinct sound of heels clacking against the school’s floors made you curse— almost aloud, she was coming up behind you. What did you do? Pretend you didn’t hear it, hear her. But you picked up your pace though.

“You.” She somehow caught up anyway. Those Louboutin heels appeared before your eyes.

“What?” You looked at her clearly displeased, feeling the anger within you bubbling up quickly thanks to the hunger.

“No wonder.” She chuckles, the sickening smirk forms again, “No wonder Janis rejected me.”

You scoffed.

“She likes the freaks.” She leaned in to whisper in your ear. You inhaled sharply, your fists balling up. You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket— that was definitely Damian or Janis trying to contact you. “And you’re one.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You snarled, “God forbid little rich girl, Regina George can’t get what she wants one time.”

The blonde stared daggers into your soul. She had the power to intimidate, she had the power over most of the student population to destroy them for life. Janis got a terrible reputation because of the girl before you, that only very recently died off. Not you though, the only thing you felt when you saw her face was anger. Anger for what she did to so many, but mainly anger for what she did to Janis. “Get the fuck out of my way or else I’d just—”

“Just what? Push me? Tell on me?”

The urge to punch her in the face was so incredibly strong, but you took a deep breath and sidestepped her and went on your way quickly.

“God, there you are.” Janis heaves a sigh of relief as you plopped your lunch tray down. “What happened? Is your stomach—”

“I’m fine. It’s not that.” You answered her fast.

“Then-”

Damian tilted his head towards some laughter, from Regina and her little posse. Janis’ brows were raised for a beat and she scoffs, “Lucky for her she didn’t get her jaw broken.”

“I don’t get why Gretchen keeps hanging out with her.” You said, “She was stopping Regina.”

“Gretchen is nice, so is Karen. But you know, they’re still scared of her because well, she’s who she is.” Damian shrugged.

“I mean they could just— stop hanging out with Regina?”

“No, honey, they think they need her. It’s too late. They’re too dependent.” Janis states, holding the Oatly bottle in her hand as she swirled it before taking a sip.

“Hi, freaks.” The blonde intentionally walked by.

“I have had it with you! Why is the school so afraid of you? So what if you’re rich? That doesn’t give you the right to control people for your own enjoyment.” You yelled, “Call me a freak. Whatever. I do not care about what you think. But keep their names out of your mouth or I'll make you regret everything you have ever uttered."

"You don't know her like we do." Damian agrees, "You'll be so damn sorry."

Regina smiled sarcastically, sitting down at her usual table. Karen immediately told her to apologise to you, but did she listen? Of course not. You stood up for yourself and those you care about when it was needed, she tormented everyone because she likes it. That was the difference, and a big one at that. "Okay, what the hell did she actually say to you?" Janis leaned closer to ask quietly.

"She started off by telling me how you rejected her. Like I didn't know that- we were already dating then." Janis snorted a laugh, "What, and then she called you a freak?"

"She's jealous, my loves." Damian laughs, "She's not used to this...not being able to get what she wants. And I am loving every second of it."

"Of course you are." Janis rolled her eyes.

"Okay, anyway— what's the deal with Cady?"

"That, is Regina's girl."

Your eyes nearly flew out of your head and thank God you weren't eating because you would've choked. "What? That sweet, nice girl is that bitch's girlfriend?"

"Eh, yeah. They're in love and she's the only one Regina even treats like a normal human. But y'know, even better. Because they're dating. So maybe this stupid shit she's saying is all for show, for the thrill. But still, girl I know you wanna kill her but please don't."

"I know, Damian. She's not worth it. I— am so angry right now." Someone threw something at your head. You reached behind the pulled a cheese fry out of your hair, immediately tossing it back before she could dodge. You hit her directly in the mouth. The students surrounding your tables laughed. Satisfied, you returned to eating then cleaned out your hair afterwards.

Regina didn't retaliate again. Until the last bell let out for the day. While you were waiting for Janis to be done with her gym class, someone just came up to you and slammed you against a locker. "Regina! What the hell?" Aaron yelled, "Are you okay?"

"I-"

"How dare you? No one messes with me." Regina continues, pushing Aaron away and lunging at you. She easily shoves you to the floor. You were caught by surprise, completely unable to defend yourself.

"Regina, it's you." Gretchen spoke up, "You have been messing with her all day and now you've really hurt her. I don't know why I'm so scared of you- she's right. You're the same age as me, as so many of us, why are we living like we need to bow down to you no matter what? What's the point?"

God, the pain. The pain in your wrist, it wasn't going away. Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to help yourself back on your feet. "Regina George, you better stay where you are!" Janis came running, ready to tackle her to the ground. Again, Aaron stops it from happening. "Get off me! She hurt my girlfriend."

"And it's no use getting yourself in trouble over her." Aaron says. Karen and Gretchen helped you up, and you crying out in pain freaked them the hell out.

"Janis, let's go. Now." Damian glared at her, "She needs to go to the hospital."

Janis froze, stopping whatever she was planning on doing. "Fine."

[sunkissed-zegras]

✮ 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬, zegras' have more fun

♡ ─ summary | media day pictures (NOT MINE AND IT'S NOT THE FC) and something makes the jack stans go crazy

♡ ─ warnings | light-hearted flirting/arguing, brief mention of hate crimes (ITS A JOKE THOUGH), hughes bros being dumb (not trev for once LMAO)

♡ ─ taglist | tbd

♡ ─ ev's notes | this lowkey eats I MISSED THIS AU

back to navigation back to AU masterlist

stasszegras ann arbor, michigan

Liked by trevorzegras, lhughes_06, jackhughes and 9,935 more

stasszegras | media day pics, first (official) fnl + WENT LOWKEY VIRAL ON TIKTOK???? tagged: pchandler68, umichfootball, lucafantilli september 23th, 2022

View all 1,008 comments

briesbagels | my favorite tiktok influencer 🤭

↳ stasszegras stop it. 😐

↳ briesbagels 3 million views on a tiktok IS CRAZYYY

↳ stasszegras it's only cus luke was in the video

↳ lhughes_06 clout chaser 😝

briesbagels | LAST PIC OF LUCA IS HORRENDOUS PLS STASS 😫😫

↳ lucafantilli ok this one hurts brie, i thought u were on my side

↳ briesbagels its either u or stass (im choosing my girl)

↳ stasszegras 🤭😏😍

↳ pchandler68 hmmmmm 😏😏

↳ adamfantilli 🥸🥸

↳ stasszegras what's goin on here.... 😥

umichwsoccer | THATS OUR GIRL! 🫡〽️

↳ stasszegras 🤞🏼🤞🏼

jackhughes | wowww okay stassie.. 🤞🏼🤩 woo 😮‍💨😮‍💨

↳ trevorzegras 😟😟 oh no

↳ lhughes_06 since when we callin her stassie????

↳ jackhughes WE?? get ur own nickname lukey 😑😑

↳ stasszegras k y'all let's just stick to stass or little zegras 😶

↳ trevorzegras @/griffinzegras

↳ griffinzegras bffr right now 📸📸📸 aren't you like 30 jack??

↳ jackhughes actually i'm 21 so calm the FUCKK down... and i was just being nice and friendly griff come on now

↳ briesbagels and thats why we wear sunscreen kids 🥴

↳ griffinzegras yea maybe a little too friendly..

↳ stasszegras guys im gonna disable my comments if u keep arguing like 12 year olds

↳ trevorzegras mhm yeah and thats the ONLY REASON why you would wanna disable the comments

lucafantilli | last pic should be considered a hate crime bro how'd u even get that

↳ stasszegras don't ask stupid questions like that luca

↳ adamfantilli 🥸🥸

↳ lucafantilli MY OWN BROTHER?!?!?!

↳ lhughes_06 i guess we are all getting betrayed by our flesh and blood rn 😪

↳ jackhughes be so fr rn lukey

↳ trevorzegras agreed luke

↳ jackhughes 😑😑

↳ pchandler68 interesting.. 📸

quinnhughes | you ate little zegras 🫡

↳ stasszegras thanks quinner 🫶🏼

↳ trevorzegras YEA this is really being friendly @/jackhughes

↳ jackhughes bro. let this go.

↳ quinnhughes leave me the fuck outta this guys, please 😁

lhughes_06 | gonna win us a jr world cup zegras ✊🏼

↳ stasszegras YESSS SIR 🫡🫡〽️〽️ but thats not how it works buddy

↳ lhughes_06 there's no jr world cup????

↳ jackhughes messi is rolling in his grave rn

↳ stasszegras messi is alive????

↳ briesbagels no way bro 😭😭

↳ quinnhughes LMAO PLEASE 😭

pchandler68 | LUCA LOL PLEASE HAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAH

↳ lucafantilli count your days chandler

↳ pchandler68 wait no luca im sorry

↳ lucafantilli its ur fault u introduced me and stass and NOW LOOK. all the hoes are gone

↳ stasszegras 😑😑😑

↳ adamfantilli not all of them.....🥯🥯🥯

↳ lucafantilli shut up adam.

↳ pchandler68 wait what??...

adamfantilli future manager AND she plays for our soccer team?? it's perfect 🤞🏼🤞🏼

↳ stasszegras hahaahaha no.

↳ nolan_moyle STASS PLEASE

↳ stasszegras stop harassing me nolan

jhughesnews

Liked by njdevilfan09, briesbagels, zegrasluvr898 and 4,509 more

jhughesnews | jack hughes and anastasia zegras are reportedly going out after he comments a suggestive comment on her most recent post. thoughts???

View all 2,190 comments

fan01 | WHAT?? NO WAY????? WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME

fan02 | guys they are just friends, if u guys look at her other posts he makes those kinda jokes all the time

↳ fan03 nah bro did u see trevor and griffin's comments? they obviously know something we don't

↳ fan02 yeah but that's their humor

fan04 | good 😭😭😭 for😭😭😭 them 😭😭😭

fan05 | didn't she go out with luke too 😐

↳ fan06 damn she wants the whole crew

↳ fan07 who can blame her tho??? have u seen them 🤭🤭

↳ fan08 no she didn't lmao, those were also JUST rumors and it's obvious they're just friends

fan09 | guys stop it, these are baseless rumors and REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS TO TAYLOR ALL THE TIME, stass is great just by herself 🫶🏼

↳ fan10 all right girl..

↳ fan11 its giving "coach is right guys... 😣"

↳ fan12 im crying BYEEE PLEASE 😭😭😭😭

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[roosterforme]

I'm So Hot For You | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley makes you some homemade hot sauce to show his love and appreciation for you being his sexy nurse.

Warnings: Fluff

Length: 1600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!

After spending weeks and countless hours helping Bradley heal after he had been injured, you really deserved something special. 

And now that you were going to be his wife, Bradley thought you deserved everything. But the one thing he knew you would love that he thought he could give you, was your very own homemade hot sauce. 

"Why are we here?" Jake asked him for the tenth time as he and Bradley donned matching aprons that said San Diego Community College across the front. 

"To make hot sauce, dumbass."

"Yes, I understand that much, but why are we here? I don't see why you didn't just bring Angel with you."

"It's supposed to be a surprise. You do know what a surprise is, correct?" Bradley asked him, like he was talking to a very small child. "Now put your gloves on so you don't burn your eyes later."

Jake scoffed at him as the instructor introduced herself to the class, and both Bradley and Jake settled onto the stools behind their workstation. 

"Hi everyone! My name is Miss Mabel, and I will be your teacher for today," said a very kind looking older woman. Bradley sat up straight on his stool, ready to make a treat that you would love. "It's so nice to see so many couples here. This is a great relationship building exercise."

Jake turned and glared at Bradley. "Couples? Relationship? What did you bring me to, Bradshaw?!" 

"I..... oh, shit," Bradley muttered, but Miss Mabel was already talking about different kinds of hot peppers, and Bradley really wanted to take good notes. He started scribbling down everything she was telling them. 

After Miss Mabel got everyone started on instructions, she started to walk around the room and help each pair individually. 

"You should have brought your future wife to couples cooking class, Bradshaw," Jake said, sorting the peppers by scoville heat units. 

"Can you just cooperate and help me, please?" Bradley begged, getting out a set of knives and cutting boards. "You know I can't do this right by myself."

Jake sighed deeply. "It amazes me that you manage to get through the day. Fine, I'll help," he agreed, handing Bradley the peppers in order of hotness to cut up. 

"Gentlemen, how are we making out over here?" Miss Mabel asked when she stopped at their table. 

Jake just shook his head. "Not sure, Miss Mabel. He's kind of a lost cause in the kitchen, but he's demanding that he takes the lead on this one." Jake held his hands up in surrender.

"I just wanted it to be special," Bradley grunted, dicing up a habanero pepper. "Can't I try to make something special for the person I love?" 

Miss Mabel just smiled at them. "Cooking for your significant other is always a gift from the heart."

"Yeah, well... he's being so grouchy about this. He keeps saying he just needs it to be perfect," Jake told her. Then in a hushed voice, he added, "But between you and me, Miss Mabel, his creativity outweighs his ability. And then he gets very snarky when things don't go as planned."

"If I get grouchy, it's usually always your fault," Bradley told Jake as he added an array of peppers to the blender. 

"You two seem like polar opposites! How long have you known each other?"

"Too long," Bradley grunted at the same time as Jake said, "Twelve years, Ma'am."

Bradley watched Jake measure out some vinegar and add it to the blender as he chattered along with Miss Mabel. 

"That's a long time," Miss Mabel noted. "You two seem to need to work on your communication with each other. I would definitely recommend more of my classes as a fun way to help you with that."

"Thanks. We'll definitely consider it," Jake told her with a wink before she moved to the next table. 

Bradley glared at him. "Will you stop fucking around?"

Jake just started cracking up. "She thinks we're in a relationship. With each other."

"Yeah. I caught that," Bradley said, shaking his head. "Now how much vinegar did you add? A teaspoon or a tablespoon?"

"Could you imagine a world in which I would slum it with you, Bradshaw? Hilarious," Jake drawled, settling back onto his stool.

Bradley rolled his eyes. "I would never date you. You are insufferable and irritating. That's probably why my fiancée turned you down. Now, did you add a teaspoon or a tablespoon?"

"Um, the little one," Jake replied, looking unsure of himself. 

Bradley tipped his head back and counted to five before looking at Jake again. "Bringing you here was a terrible idea."

"Yeah, mainly because it's for couples, but also because I am no better in the kitchen than you are."

When it was time to sample the sauces, Miss Mabel deemed Bradley and Jake's batch 'nearly inedible' and told them they should 'work on communicating and listening to one another'.

When they left the classroom, Jake checked his phone, completely unfazed by the epic failure. "Wanna stop at the Hard Deck?"

Bradley scowled. "No, I don't want to stop at the Hard Deck! I'm taking my jar of nasty hot sauce home and telling her you ruined it."

Jake just shrugged. "She's going to think it's funny."

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

When Bradley got home, you were just walking up the sidewalk with Tramp on his leash. 

"Look! It's Daddy!" you told Tramp as he pulled you along to get to Bradley faster. "Did you have fun with Jake?" you asked Bradley as he scooped Tramp into his arms. 

"No," he told you, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

"Where did you guys go, anyway?"

Bradley followed you and Tramp into the house, smiling as the sunlight hit your engagement ring. 

"Baby Girl, I just wanted to do something nice for you, but I made this for you instead," he said, holding out the jar of hot sauce to you. 

"What is it?" you asked, eyeing it skeptically. Even Bradley found the shade of orangish-green to be off putting, and he would eat pretty much anything. 

"Hot sauce."

"Hot sauce?! You made me hot sauce?" you asked, your eyes filled with love as you flung your arms around him. "I love it!"

"Well...." Bradley said while cringing. "Maybe you should taste it before you say that...."

He watched you dip a spoon into the jar, and the look of pure delight on your face turned to one of panic as the sauce touched your tongue. "What the fuck is in this?" you asked, coughing and gagging. Bradley watched you head for the sink, and he tried to suppress a laugh, but he couldn't. "It tastes like sour, evil vinegar."

"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart. I know it's disgusting. I tried my best. But the teacher thought Jake and I were a couple, and it was a disaster." He poured you a glass of milk and wiped the tears from your eyes with his thumbs. 

"Wait, what?" you asked, and Bradley told you the entire story. By the end of it, you were cracking up. "Oh, that's hilarious, Roo. I've got to text Jake."

"He said you would think the whole thing was funny. And I guess that's just one reason why I'm marrying you. Because you don't think I'm a complete disaster even when I am."

You looked up from your phone. "Bradley. You're never a disaster."

He shrugged and you wrapped your arms around him again. "I just wanted to surprise you with something you would like, Sweetheart. You were so good to me when I was healing, always making me food and taking care of everything around here."

You looked up at him and smiled. "I think going with Jake was probably your first mistake. We can try to make a hot sauce here. Together. If you want to."

"I took notes. Miss Mabel was actually very thorough."

Bradley watched you skim through his notebook before you grabbed your car keys. "Let's go to the farmer's market before it closes and buy peppers."

You seemed to know what you were doing, so Bradley held your hand and carried everything for you. 

"These are the little green peppers in my favorite hot sauce. Should we add them to ours?" you asked, pointing out some kind of pepper Bradley never heard of. 

"Definitely, Sweetheart." He watched as you picked out a few more. When you got back home to your kitchen, he felt perfectly at ease as you read Miss Mabel's instructions out loud and put him to work. 

Being around you was easy for Bradley in a way he had never experienced before. You laughed as he cut up the peppers and told you more about Miss Mabel's class. 

"We should go to a Miss Mabel class together," you told him. "Jake can just fuck off, he's not allowed to be in a relationship with you."

Bradley laughed and agreed, and while you blended everything together, he signed the two of you up for a salsa making class at the college. 

"Want to try the first bite?" you asked, offering the spoon to Bradley. He took a small taste, and it was good. Great, even. 

"Incredible," he said, and you grinned when you tried it. 

"It's perfect," you agreed, and Bradley played with your hair and kissed your neck as you made them eggs covered in homemade hot sauce for dinner. 

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

Just a fluffy little moment between these two (and Jake)! One more one-shot and then we dig into another series with these two if you can believe it....

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[giuliettagaltieri]

Cherry Flavored Kisses

Pairing: Varsity Player!Eren Jaeger x College student!reader

Synopsis: The life as Eren Jaeger’s girl fascinated you, but it was nothing compared to the fascination you feel for the man, himself.  He could be nice if he wanted.  But nothing is as bittersweet as a love unrequited.

Warning: Innuendos, minor violence, unprotected sex, angst.

Word Count: 5862

This can be a stand alone, a part 2, or a part 1 of Number One Fan

Eren Jaeger warned you not to get close to him.

But being around him has had its benefits.

You got to hang out with the popular kids.

Got invited to those wild college parties.

And like them, you are cool, you are fucking game, you are the it girl.

“Hey, nice top!  Where’d you get it?”

You look up to see a senior, whose name you do not know, smiling at you.  

“Max Mara.  I like your top too!”  The smile you gave her was genuine, although it did feel required.

She flips her largely curled hair and gave you a look as if she is relieved that someone finally took notice.  “Duh!  It’s Dior!”

With just the right amount of practiced surprise, you manage to again stroke one’s ego.  “So that’s why.  It looks absolutely stunning on you.”  You add an angelic smile.

She playfully swats the air at you.  “I know!”  She then flips her curls once more.  “Anyway, I’ll be having a party this Saturday.  You’ll come, won’t you?”

You brighten your smile even more.  “Oh absolutely.”

The woman claps her hands in excitement. “Awesome!  I’ll just dm you the address to my place-” She rolls her eyes and slaps her cheek gently.  “What was I thinking.  Eren will drive you there.”

“I’ll be seeing you then.”

She wiggles her fingers with bright acrylics at you.  “See you.”

You watch her walk away and disappear in the hallway before you feel a light shove beside you.

“Oh my gosh!  I can’t believe Hitch Dreyse just talked to you.”  Louise gasps beside you.

“Who?”  You giggled while your nimble fingers unwrap the lollipop that you just fetched from your bag.

Louise starred at you with her mouth ajar.  “Are you being serious right about now?”

You reluctantly shake your head ‘no’ while popping the lollipop in your mouth.

Both her hands fly to your shoulders.  “That was Hitch, the head cheerleader of Paradis University!”

Of course.  That’s why she was so familiar.

“And I can’t believe you got invited to her party.” She sulks, her arms crossing after she throws you an accusing glare.

With a gentle smile you attempt to ease her irritation.  Although, it isn’t entirely your fault, to begin with.

“Maybe I can ask her if I can bring a friend?”

She throws her hands up in annoyance.  “As if I’d be able to enjoy that party.  It’s for cool kids like them, you’re probably the only one who’ll talk to me and Jaeger will surely hog you for the entire night.”

You look away to hide your flustered face.

“Anyway, I’m off now.  I’d look like a pitiable side character if I stay here longer.” She walks off before you could protest. “Enjoy your spotlight, miss manic pixie dream girl.”

The corners of your lips twitch to a frown but you can’t really appear to be mad at her.  At least not in a hallway full of onlookers.  But you did bite the lollipop stick harder than you should have.

Suddenly, a bunch of squeals grates your ears, they’re like tires burning on asphalt.  

“Hey.”

You look up to find Eren leaning on the column beside the bench you are occupying at the moment.  Immediately, you give him your brightest smile.

“Hey!”

Eren sits himself beside you and you fight off a sneeze, a thundercloud of axe body spray seems to be present everywhere he’s in. He picks up your pastel binder and tosses it back to its place on the bench, picks up your fluffy pen and does the same as he did with your notebook.

“You done throwing my stuff around?”  You glare playfully at him while starting to put your stuff back into your bag.

Eren hums and slumps into the bench as he manspreads.  “Didn’t see you in the practice match.”  He muses while eyeing the way the leggings hugged the posterior of the girl that passed by, all the while you were too busy trying not to notice.

A wave of muttering and mumbles fill the hallway. Right, Eren had his fan club following him there.  Can’t judge them though, you were just like them last year in your freshman year.

Until you became the lucky girl by becoming his favorite yet.  

You kept bringing him pastries, plus you’re cute. Of course, he’s gonna like you.

“Hardly seemed like I was needed there.”  You glance up to meet his bored stare.  “Besides, I had to finish an essay assignment.”

Then there’s your game of push and pull.

Eren scoffs and rises to his feet. “Alright.  I’ll be seeing you this Saturday night.”  You hold your breath when he suddenly bends down, his warm tic tac smelling breath fanning your face.  “I’ll pick you up by eight.”

He holds your gaze and doesn’t move until you finally nod at him frantically.

You swirl your moist tongue on the lollipop head before mumbling a choked up ‘okay’ as your answer.  You puff out the breath you’ve been holding when he straightens up and looks at you from above, making you crane your neck to actually see him.

And the bastard had a smug grin on his face, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.  And as if it wasn’t enough, he pulls out the bright red cherry lollipop from your cute mouth, making a moist popping sound as the candy slips from your plump lips.  To your horror, Eren flicks his tongue on the lollipop before sucking on it, the stick is wedged on the side of his lips.  It was difficult not to break away from his gaze as he did that.  But you were also not giving him the satisfaction by looking away.

“Wear something cute for me, baby, yeah?”

Your lips are still parted in surprise but you shut them quickly when Eren’s gaze fall to them.  

“Mhm!”

“Good girl.”  He pats your head and turns on his heel, heading to his next class, off to ruin professor Ackerman’s day.

His flock of fans follow him quickly, but not before throwing nasty envious glares and glances of pure curiosity.

Your back meets the bench and you try to ignore the looks thrown your way.

That was the closest thing you had to a kiss!

Oh My Gosh!

The attention that you get from people around the school almost fooled you into believing that there was something going on between you and Eren Jaeger.  And when he acts like that, you think that something just might be.  How else would you interpret his actions?  Eren must have liked you to some extent to do that.

A loud ringing of bell had you scrambling up and out of the bench and on to history class, at least professor Smith is going to help distract you for now, with his engaging lectures and equally engaging physique.

Saturday night rolls by fast.  

You had to end the mandatory calls with your mother when you hear the revving engine of Eren’s car outside your dorm.

Your chunky heels thuds on the stairs as you descend it.  Patience is not one of Eren’s strongest suit after all.  Your bangles jingle and clink together.  Your hair bouncing with your motion, along with some of your other assets, the bouncing was starting to hurt that you put an arm under them for support, while you try to navigate the steps.

The tinted windows of Eren’s car doesn’t hinder his view.  The pastel colors of your dress were dimmed just the tiniest bit but you practically hopping off the last step of the stairs allowed him to peek at the bows that sat on your thighs as your ruffled dress poofed up with the air.

You stood patiently by Eren’s door, your hands clasped together as you swayed like the adorable girl you are.

Eren opens the car door from the inside and you sit your bum before pulling your tightly pressed knees inside the car until the shoes that you probably got from the kiddy section land inside.

“Look who’s here.”  Eren drawls.  “You really gone and dolled yourself up for me.”

You smile at him meekly, your fingers crumpling the edge of your dress.

“You don’t think I overdid it?”  You bat your eyelashes at him.

Eren shifts his thighs to help with the sudden discomfort, a soft groan that is barely audible escapes his lips. “Nah.  ‘S perfect on you.”

You shrink under his intense gaze, all shy.  

The car suddenly feels warmer now.

“Y-you should probably start driving to the party now.”  You smile at him like a lovesick puppy.

Eren cocks a brow at you.  “Yeah?”  You nod at him to which he only replies with a sharp smile.  “Say please.”

It was almost funny for him to watch your eyes turn round like a baby doe, your delectable looking lips following the same shape, making him feel stuff he knows he shouldn’t.  Eren swore to never fool around with you.  He enjoys your company and admiration but it felt like pure carnality to even think about running the warmth of his hands on your skin. You are pure, an untainted flower, and he feels just a bit guilty about thinking of ruining you.

Nevermind him getting off in the thoughts of your pillowy thighs and feather soft touches when his bed gets a little too lonely at three in the morning.

“Please, Eren.”  You say with a giggle.

Eren checks if you buckled yourself in and steps on the gas hard, making you yelp.

“You finished your homework?”  Eren asks an uncharacteristic question, making you frown at him in confusion.

“Of course.”  A pause.  “Did you?”

Eren glimpses at you briefly.  “Armin’s already on it.”

You look at him in disappointment.  

“Shut up, he offered.”  He sighs.

“But I didn’t even say anything.”  You mumble under your breath.

Poor Armin.

“He offered to do it.  In exchange, I’ll get him Leonhart’s number.”

You tilt your head in confusion.

“Marley U varsity player.  Women’s volleyball.”

You nod in understanding.

One of the reasons why Eren likes you is because you are too simple.  Dealing with you doesn’t require him to sit and ponder.  You are easy to understand.  You are predictable.

What Eren doesn’t predict however, was the amount of attention you will be getting because of your all too adorable dress. His plan to have you dressed attractively for him to have a delectable arm candy backfired.

One more sticky gaze from those sleazy frat boys and he swears, his fist might find an unsuspecting jaw tonight.

Even women dressed in lowcut dresses has their hands lingering a little too long on your thighs.

A bright red cup is shoved in his face and he’s just about to yell his head off when he meets the unamused stare of Jean.

“Horseface.”  He greets while accepting the cup and taking a swig.

Jean grits his teeth.  He’s not about to take the bait.  Eren’s pissed and he’s just begging for a fight.

“Cut that out.”

Eren sends a glare up to Jean before his hawk like eyes wander to your direction as you play with his other teammates.  “Cut what out?”

Connie is warding off the guys, which helped him keep his cool, but that new recruit, Surma, is standing a little too close to you. He doesn’t care if the sophomore is on your team in the game.  And you’re oblivious to his stare as you enjoy your glass of boone’s farm.

“Brooding in a dark corner and looking like you’re about to shove your shoe in someone’s mouth the next second.”  Jean sighs as he watches you cheer with Connie when you get a point.

Eren downs the rest of the contents of the cup and crushes it in his grip.  “I think professor Ackerman taught us the wrong social sciences.”

“Agreed.”  Jean sighs. “Whatever man, just stop acting like a creep.”  He stalks away, making Eren roll his eyes.

What else was he supposed to do then?  He’s can’t drink since he has to drive you home, he’s not about to go play spin the bottle with Floch and the others.

The sofa he’s on dips.  And judging by the sickeningly sweet cologne, it’s a girl who’s sitting next to him.

He side-eyes her and catches a well-defined curve in her chest that is clad in a skin tight cheetah printed dress.

Correction, a woman.

“What are you doing alone here, big guy?”  He hears her nasally yet absurdly seductive voice.

“People watching.”  Eren tells her.

She smirks at him, her dark purple lipstick making it pop despite the dim room.  “Can I people watch with you?”

Eren shrugs.  “Why not.”

The woman laughs.  “Name’s Roxy by the way, Eren.”

“You know me.”  Eren smiles slyly at her.

“Hey, bud!  Watch over Y/N for a sec, gotta run to the bathroom.”  He hears Connie yell but Roxy runs the back of her fingers on Eren’s cheek before he could turn to look.

“Who doesn’t?”

Good point.

Eren rests back on the sofa, letting the woman feed his ego with her exaggerated and poorly constructed sentences.

She’s tacky.  Her dress, her lipstick, her scent.  Roxy is a cheap chick but Eren doesn’t turn away anybody who is willing to openly praise him.

She probably thought she could get some tonight, Eren chuckles under his breath.

He shouldn’t make fun of her, that’d be mean. Especially when it looks like she’s really impressed with herself.  He’ll let someone else burst her bubble.

The night is going really well, until it doesn’t.

Like a birthday candle blown by a toddler, all humor vanishes from Eren’s face.

His features turn rigid and he has never looked more menacing than the time he stood from the couch.  The woman he left behind couldn’t let a single word out as her throat went dry.  People didn’t see Eren as he moved like smoke around the drunk bodies dancing away on the dancefloor.

It was loud.

The smacking sound of his fist finally connecting with the sophomore kid’s face, knocking the glasses off his plain looking face.

“You better watch where those hands wander, kid.”  Eren sneers.

Immediately, he felt your soft figure collide with his.

“Eren, you shouldn’t cause trouble!”  You clutch his shirt to pull him down to your level. “You’re a varsity player!  You can’t get into stupid fights.”

You’re right.  What was he thinking?  Ruining his plans for a girl?  He better wish this won’t reach their coach.

He pulls away from you and his strong grip finds purchase on your dainty wrists.

“We’re leaving.  Now.”

You nod at him quickly, desperate to get him away from the malicious spectators.

Eren drags you away from the crowd and out of the party and you just let him.

Soon enough, the back of your thighs are pressed against the cool leather seats of Eren’s car as he is too busy speeding away. Your knuckles have turned white as you grip the edge of your seat, your other hand on Eren’s forearm, a nonverbal reminder for him to slow down as he’s not the only person in the car.

No words are spoken between the two of you and you choose to keep it that way, despite your desperate need to know what just happened.

But you’ve learned.  

Eren should not be pressured to do anything he doesn’t want, especially when he is mad.  Anything that poses as a threat towards his sense of control in the situation, he will crush.

He was just barely hovering below the speed limit, going beyond it where he is sure there was no speed gun aimed at him.

What should have been a thirty-minute drive was cut down to twelve.  And the familiar architecture of your school dormitory comes to view.  The tires screech as Eren drifted to a parking space and you could have sworn your heart is pumping two hundred beats per minute.

The entire car shakes when Eren gets out of the car and slams the door close.  You watch him circle to your side and he opens the door surprisingly gentle.

You meet his unreadable expression before you get out, taking measured steps and putting a considerable distance between you.

He’s pissed, you are not quite sure if it’s because of you.

“Uhm-”

“Go to your dorm room.  I’ll be there with you shortly.”

Your eyes widen.

And Eren waits for you to say something stupid.

“I’m not supposed to have boys in my room when it’s past nine.”  You rock on your heels back and forth, clearly nervous and unsure how to deal with the situation, unsure how to deal with him.

“That’s okay.”  Eren tucks your hair behind your ears.  “I won’t tell anyone.”  He can feel the heat of your face radiating to his fingers and he barely even touched you.

He watches you chew on your lip before nodding. “Okay.”  You then reluctantly enter the building and Eren watches you from where he stood.

As soon as you disappeared from his view, his murderous expression was back on his handsome face.  

He can’t understand just where the scum got the courage to hold your waist and elbow like that, while he had his hips pressed on the poof of your dress.

Eren could think of about fifty ways to kill that filth.  But that is frowned upon, isn’t it?  Eren will have to do it smarter.

Having him run extra laps sounds like a good way to start.  The bench also looked a bit to lonely during their games, he’ll have that kid warm it up.

The sole of Eren’s sneakers scrape the pavement as he finally follows you inside.  No lights were streaming under the doors of the rooms next to you.  They must have been in the party still.  

His knuckles rap at your door and he finds your scrambling footsteps amusing.

The door swings open harshly, sending some of his hair that escaped his manbun to fly to his sharp cheekbones.

“You’re here!  I thought you went home.”  You gasped.

“What are yo-”  He checks his watch and tried to clear his forehead from frown creases. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was taking way too long.”

You smile at him and lean your hip against the door, Eren’s eyes followed the movement but he can’t see much with your poofy dress swallowing your form.

You’re relieved that he’s in a better mood now. “It’s okay.  Come on in.”

Eren follows you inside, making sure to lock your door.  He watches you pad around in your cotton slippers, tucking away a bra under a bunch of plushies that you have in your sofa.

“So sorry for the mess.  I didn’t think you were serious about…you…coming.”  You press your lips tightly, he looked uninterested just then.

Eren hums as he continues to walk over in your direction, with that same bored expression he had in his face, it was intimidating and attractive at the same time.

“I was hoping we could talk?”  Eren smiled at you but it wasn’t warm at all.

You look down to your feet and then at his chest, not brave enough to meet his gaze.  “About what?”

Asking such question was foolish yet necessary to buy yourself some time.  It didn’t buy you much though.  Eren’s patience was nonexistent.

Eren clicks his tongue, making you look up. “Stop playing dumb!  Why didn’t you push that guy away?”  He took another step closer.  “Were you trying to get a rise from me?”  He was dangerously close now.  His voice low and his eyes wide with barely hidden rage in them.

He didn’t have to talk to you in that tone.

Your eyes turn glossy, your nose sting.  The telltale signs of your tears.  You hated crying, it makes your nose feel stuffy, you stomp your foot in annoyance.

“That is so unfair!”  Eren had to take a step back to get a view of your adorable display of anger.  “I didn’t even do anything.  Surma was also just teaching me how to aim the ball better.  You were the one who was over reacting.  Throwing punches at people who were just trying to help and making your car fly after your dramatic exit at the party.”

You are heaving by the time you finish.  Your lashes are clumped with unshed tears filling your waterline.  Your cheeks have also gone bubbled.  It’s a shame you’ll never know how adorable you are when you lose your temper.

So adorable that Eren closed the distance between you two and you fall to your butt and land on your squishy plushies in surprise. But you don’t have that much time to complain when you feel his hand cup your cheek to have you tip your head at him and he leans down, with so much force and speed that you draw a sharp breath.

Fuck.

Eren meets your wide eyes and glances at your parted lips.  He never wanted to kiss someone’s lips so badly.  

But if he meets your lips with his, it’s all over. His vow to keep you chaste.  He’ll feel guilty of breaking that halo atop your head.

His jaw is clenched and he straightens up. “Sorry.”

A frown graces your features when he drops his hand and you quickly pull them flush to your chest.  “Don’t be.”  You look away from him and nibble on your lips.  “Kiss me.”  You meet his eyes again.  “Please.”

When you ask so nicely, he’ll just have to oblige.

Eren reaches and runs his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it slightly and letting it go with a bounce.

“Pretty girl.”

Eren takes you by surprise as he rests his knee on the sofa next to your trembling thighs and captures your lips.  He groans at the sugary taste of your cherry lip balm.

It was everything you dreamt it would be. Eren’s lips were pillowy and they feel good as they wrap around your bottom lip, just before parting to let his teeth nibble on you.

“Eren.”  You whisper as he litters your jaw with kisses.  You are perfect and he wants nothing else but to have you right now.

His fingers brush on your clothed chest and reaches behind you to roughly tug at the zipper holding your dress together. Groaning when he finally felt your soft mounds even before he could see them.  A mewl escapes your lips and you cup his hands that are groping your soft bosom.

Eren often associated you with cuteness and youth but right now, you are a woman.  A woman with sultry eyes that are just inviting him in.

His hands press on the pudge of your stomach and you moan as he presses you harder against your plushies, closing your eyes when they go lower and lower until he caresses the petals of your flower behind your soft panties.

He pinches the oozing chub of your thigh above your thigh highs and traces his hand on your thighs up to your hips.  His long thick fingers hook on your panties and you could swear you heard a soft rip.

You cried when his knuckles brush along your puffed lips, collecting wetness as he did so just before slipping inside, the foreign intrusion having been too much that you push Eren’s shoulder slightly. Eren groans as he drags another knuckle just before stuffing you with it.

“Oh!”  You moan so obscenely and Eren was taking it all, his head fogging up with how much your virgin cunt was sucking on his fingers.

“You can take more, can’t you, baby?”  He grins against your jaw as he drags his fingers on your velvet walls.  “You can, yeah?”  Eren talks you through it until he’s slipped a third finger on you.  The stretch burns but you are far too needy to care.

“Ren.”  You whimper as your walls flutter around his fingers.  “Want you to f-…Want you to do it.”

He’s about to ruin you and you still can’t say the word.

He pulls them out, making your gasp.  Eren presses his forehead against yours and grips your thigh and his dripping fingers make you shiver.  “Yeah?  You think you can take it?”

You nod at him frantically.

“Alright.”  Eren snickers as he slips off his top along with the layer under it, his jeans come off next.  His movements are swift and you are struggling to keep up as you slide off your own dress.  

You shut your eyes when it springs free, slapping to his stomach.  

“What are you doing?  Look at me.”

Eren hooks his arms below your thigh high clad knees to drag you until you feel your back resting more against the plushies. “Come on, just a peak.”

You bite your cheek when you feel something stiff but squishy on your thighs and it drags to your folds.  Eren rocks his hips and you clutch to his enormous biceps when the thing slides on your lips and kisses your clit.

It feels soooo good.

But it wasn’t enough.  You want it inside.

“Fuck!  You’re leaking.”  

Your eyes flash open when you feel it caught on you entrance.

“There she is.”  Eren says almost condescendingly.  “Want you to look at it, baby.”

With much reluctance, you do.

And you wish you hadn’t.

“That’s too big for me.”  You whimper, your gentle fingers flying to his abdomen to try and push him away.  

“It’s alright, Y/N.  I’ll be gentle, yeah?”  Eren sinks deeper and the head disappears, making you tear up.

Eren does not ask for permission most of the time and is mostly just letting you know.

He scoops you up by your shoulder to have your chest pressed against him.  He’s mumbling on your shoulder, praising you, telling you how good you are making him feel. His hips haven’t stopped moving.

“Too full!”  You cry on his shoulder and Eren grits his teeth, sweat dripping down his temples as he tried to hold himself back.

“I’m almost all the way in.”  He glances between you and still half of him is yet to be put inside you.  “Just a little bit more, alright?”  He kisses your forehead and brings you close to him.  You cry on his shoulder as he shallowly thrusts.  “Just a little bit…”  and with one swift motion, he plunges all of him inside you.  “More.”

Your lips part to let out a voiceless scream.

Eren groans, the tightness was almost painful but he marvels at how good you’re making him feel.  You on the other hand has your eyes wide, the feeling of it is weird and incredibly excruciating.

“Get it out!”  You pounded on his back but Eren only groans even more, sucking on the tender flesh of your neck.  “You’re hurting me.”

He doesn’t stop your hands, ignores your whimpers, and the bright red lines you draw on the wide expanse of his well-toned back with your cherry colored nails.

A small rock with his hips has you mewling in pain.

“Come on, stop fighting it.”  He sighs, his rough fingers already tracing your clit, drawing circles and patterns and shapes that are yet to be discovered and named. “Relax for me.”

The natural response of your body doesn’t fail to impress him.  Eren takes pride when he manages to let your juices seep from your lips.  He got himself ingrained in every fiber of your being.

From the sweet noises and gasps spilling from your lips, it is not difficult to understand that you are feeling good at the moment.  A particular upward thrust had your foot kicking high up in the air, knocking one of your plushy to the floor.  Eren glances at the fallen innocent looking plush kitty and your debauched state and couldn’t resist stealing a kiss from you.

The heat pooling in your lower abdomen is spreading, making you impossibly more sensitive, feeling every drag of his heaviness on your walls.  Every bump and vein, all designed to make you feel euphoric.

Slowly, with every wave of pleasure, you feel your control of your body slipping.

It felt like falling.  An erotic scream bouncing on the walls.  The pleasure had your eyes rolling backwards as liquid fire courses through your veins.

“There you go.”  Eren laughs, only rocking his hips against you faster, his thumb tracing his name on your clit, dragging your release longer, as he was owning you.

A loud squelch of your own kitty being pounded by Eren had you all flushed and you pull your hands to cover your embarrassed state.  A futile attempt as Eren easily pulls your hands back to his shoulders.

“S alright, baby.  Sounds hot.”

You look up to Eren with love sick heart eyes, only pure admiration is what you feel towards the man who you gladly allowed to deflower you.  Even with sweat sliding down his chest, his brows twisted to a frown, his teeth gritted, everything about him is just so enticing.

You let your head rest on the softness of the plushies and you just watch Eren make you feel good.  

“What’s wrong, baby?”  His movements halted and he stiffens before moving his hips faster and more erratically. ��“Tapping out?”

Gently, you hook your legs around his hips and you shake your head.  “Nope.” You giggle but it turns to a small hiccup when he lifts your legs and presses your knees to your shoulders. The soft thin fabric of the thigh highs rubbing on his heated bronzed skin.

What a scandalous way he has you right now. But Eren doesn’t care as he uses his weight to press your own legs on your torso and pounding into you with all he has, making his heavy balls slap the globes of your ass.

He has you folded so shamelessly and still has the cheekiness to grin at you.

“Look at you.”  

Broken mewls are all you can give him as he overwhelms you, overstimulating you in the best way he can.  A shiver runs through your body when you feel your juices seeping to your bum, definitely wetting the sofa.  You open your eyes and could see your feet rocking with Eren’s movements. Tiredness hit your hips first, crawling up your thighs.

“What’s wrong?”  Eren nips your nose when you scrunch it up.

You put a palm on his face to keep him away. “Hurts.  ‘M tired.”

He hums and you smile sleepily at him.  

But he isn’t letting up like how you expected him to.

“Ren.  Eren, please.”  You sob.

A snarl rips from Eren’s throat and you feel every rumble of his bulging pecs on your chest.  Your breath hitches when he buries himself inside you and stays there. Every twitch of him inside you, every ridge of his muscular thigh against your bum, and the warm spurt of his cum.

It was thick, goopy, and too much!  

Eren continues to fuck his cum deeper inside you, unfazed by the loud squelching your cunt makes.  Tears flow to your cheek as your body gives in to him for the second time that night.  Your walls pulse around him, milking his spent cock inside you.

“Whoa there.”  Eren coos as he kisses you shoulder, your body still twitching.  He holds your hip and slips out, his cum splashing on your swollen lips.

He straightens up, his chest rising and falling just like yours.  His hand reaches to cup your cheek and you share vulnerability with him.

But his walls return quickly.

With half lidded eyes, you watch Eren get up and pick up the shirt he tossed earlier.  You manage to lift yourself up to a sitting position to watch him open random drawers until he pulls out a small pink fabric.  Your head tilting to the side as he brings it to his nose and takes a deep whiff.

Too tired to fight back, you let him slip the fabric, which turned out to be your panty, up to your thighs until its snug on your cunt.  Immediately, you feel it turn sticky but you ignore it when Eren makes you raise your arms up as he helped you put on his shirt.

You pull the shirt slightly so you can read the print.  1.  

“It’s yours now.”  He tells you.

“But this is your jersey?”  You mumble while pulling a bunny plushy.

Eren buckles his belt and puts on his compression tank top.  “I got lots of it.”  He finally slips his shoes back on.  “Come on.”

You rise carefully, your bunny still squished in your arms.  “Where are we going?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we didn’t use protection when we fucked.”  You flushed at his bluntness.  “We’ll go get you a pill.”

You grab your keys and you slip on the first footwear you see, your ballerina flats and you quickly run to Eren’s side after locking your door.  

You smile giddily when he didn’t say anything as you cling to his hand.

“I’m surprised to see your heels touching the ground.  I thought your feet are specially made for high heels only.”

You giggle like a school girl.  “Silly!”

The trip to the pharmacy was short and you are grateful the tired looking cashier didn’t ask anything else.  

You still haven’t let go of Eren’s hand when you are back in his car as he drives you back to the dorm.  A comfortable silence fills the car and you soon see the tall building of your university.

Eren reaches for your exposed knee when he brings the car to a halt as the traffic signal flashes red and you smile at him before popping a cherry flavored bubblegum in your mouth.  You grimace at the bitter aftertaste.  Eren chuckles at your expression making you erupt in giggles too.

You wish he’d say something, anything that would tell you that you’re not the only one exhilarated at what happened between you.

It was terrifying for you but you are glad you did it with him.

With your chest so full of warmth, you can’t help the words spilling from your lips.

“Eren, I know you feel what I feel.”

The traffic light flashes yellow and he remains silent, you can tell he’s having a battle in his head with the way he’s staring hard at the empty street in front of you, his jaw twitching with every passing second, his hold on your knee getting a tad tight.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to-”

“What are you talking about?”  He chuckled dryly as he pulls his hand from your knee to shift the gear stick.  “You know for a fucking fact that this doesn’t change anything between us.”

Your back hits the passenger seat with the speed of the car lurching forward.  Your chest tightens and the street lights bled together as tears fill your eyes. There was no commitment being made earlier as your bodies molded as one.  

He is not yours as you are not his.

“I did warn you not to get close to me.”

Sequel: Number One Fan