#nothing to see here i just wanted to announce that

[tj-is-down]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (Tyler Owens x Reader)

Back again with another random fic for y'all. This is not proofread, so don't hate me!

Summary: Tyler and the reader have been on and off "together" for years now, keeping it secret. Until, suddenly, one of them decides they might want more.

Word count: ~2.1k

Warnings: None except some swearing, and reader is described femininely in this one.

Here’s the thing about Humble Creek: everybody knows everybody. A small town made up of just under five thousand, there was nothing that anybody could do in secret, because if one person knew, then it was just as if they’d taken a bullhorn and announced it to the entire town.

Which made Y/N’s life all the harder. See, she did have a secret, and although it hadn’t gotten out yet, its secrecy was held in the hands of a monster. A tyrant, a tool, a pain-in-the-ass douchebag with a cowboy hat and a Texas accent.

Tyler Owens.

Y/N had known he was trouble since they were kids. Growing up on rival ranches, they were destined to be enemies, and even more so, to blur the lines. Y/N had never trusted him. Not because their families were constantly fighting, as she believed everybody deserved their own chance to prove themself, but because he had fucked his up, royally. 

In elementary school, middle school, high school, Tyler was always the talk of the town. Always with a girl on his arm, Tyler was confident, and everybody else was just putty in his hands. Y/N told herself she didn’t understand what people saw in him. 

She lied.

It started in eighth grade, when Tyler showed up in a too-big tux and a bouquet of flowers he’d handpicked from his family’s garden.

“You wanna go to the dance?” He asked, grinning cockily. Even then he knew how to charm, before he even knew what charm was.

Y/N’s dad had said no, absolutely no way, but Y/N was in her rebellious phase and so this only pushed her to say yes. She went out right then, in her mud-stained t-shirt and jeans, and they’d walked to the school together at seven p.m. and walked home together at nine. He’d kissed her cheek goodnight and she’d wiped it off, embarrassed.

“You’re annoying, Owens.”

“And you’re pretty, L/N.”

On the next Monday he came to school with Cherry Lee.

Y/N tried to be mad. She tried to hate Tyler, to swear that she’d never talk to him or think about him or even look at him ever again. But two months later, when Tyler and Cherry broke up, he’d knocked on her door when he knew her parents weren’t home and, against her better judgment, she’d let him inside.

They’d been on-and-off “together” ever since.

Now, Tyler wasn’t single for long intervals, usually just a couple of weeks here and there, and he would never cheat, nor would Y/N let herself become a homewrecker (no matter how fragile the relationship), but when Tyler showed up on her doorstep, bouquet in hands and that look in his eyes, she knew she couldn’t say no. 

She was an adult now, but still, she couldn’t resist those eyes. Tyler had been single since before leaving for college, and when he came back it was like he’d never left. Sure, now he had a truck, a big name, a crew, and a YouTube channel, but he still had those eyes, and his family still had a garden with a never-ending supply of flowers.

He showed up on her door one morning, after her parents had left for church.

“Can I help you?” She asked, opening the door. As always, a t-shirt and jeans, dirty from the morning’s work on the farm.

“You’re not at church?”

“You knew I wouldn’t be.”

“Well, maybe the two and I can practice praying on our own? I think the first step is kneeling down; you wanna start?”

Y/N went to close the door, but Tyler’s hand reached out to prop it open.

“Come on, Darlin’,” he said, laying the accent on thick. “You want to go for a drive? I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“Hold the coffee,” she said, walking past him. “I’d rather not have anyone see us together.”

He grabbed her waist and stood behind her, kissing her neck. “We’ve been doing this for years, babe. No one’s gonna find out, I promise.”

She leaned her head towards him, breathing in the scent of firewood mixed with his cologne. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You gettin’ sappy on me?” He asked. Though his voice was soft, she could feel his smirk.

“Nope.” She pulled out of his grasp and got into the passenger seat of his truck. “We going, or are you just gonna stand there looking all doe-eyed?”

“For you, I’d stand here all day, sweetheart.”

“Just get in the car, Romeo.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*** 

They drove for a while, to the outskirts of town, when Tyler stopped the truck and leaned over. He kissed her lips, hard and slow, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. She reciprocated, holding his bicep, moving her mouth in tandem with his and letting herself fall into him.

“Why are you being so love-y today?” She asked after they separated.

“I can’t show my girl some love?”

“Is that what I am? ‘Your girl’?”

He shrugged. “Is that so bad?”

“You’re annoying, Owens.” She pushed his shoulder.

He mock-pushed her back as he said, “You’re pretty, L/N.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Seriously, though, there is something I wanted to talk to you about—”

Y/N scoffed. “Are you about to ask me out?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Okay, good.”

“Would that be so bad of me?”

“Kinda.” Y/N breathed a laugh, but when she saw Tyler’s face, serious and a little upset, she stopped. “I mean, it’s not like we have the best thing going on here anyways, and I just don’t want to be—” She paused, about to say heartbroken, or used, or a placeholder for when you find someone better, but Tyler cut her off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He started the truck, engine roaring to life. “It was dumb, nevermind. I’ll take you home.”

“Tyler, you know what I meant—”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re just messing around, right? That’s all this is, just messing around.”

He didn’t say another word on the ride home. 

He dropped her off, barely waiting for her to shut the truck door before he drove away.

***

Tyler didn’t answer any of Y/N’s calls or texts for the next few days. Y/N was upset, barely leaving her room checking her phone obsessively for any sign of Tyler Owens. She even started watching his YouTube channel, but there hadn’t been any uploads for over a month. Nothing on Instagram or Facebook, either.

Her mother yelled up the stairs to her one night, calling her down.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Her mom said upon seeing Y/N.

“This is what I always wear. Why?” Y/N was suddenly self conscious, confused as to why her parents cared what she wore in the house.

“Tonight’s the fair,” her mother responded, attempting to jog her memory.

“You’re helping us run our booth?” Her father tried.

“Ah, shit,” Y/N mumbled, remembering. “Do I have to go? I totally forgot.”

“Of course you have to go!” Her father said. “We need the three of us there; it’s a family ranch, remember?”

“Besides,” her mother added. “The Owens’s will be there. We can’t let them get a leg up on us! If you’re not there, Tyler will be running the show for sure.”

“Well, maybe not,” her father said. “He’s doing the kissing booth, remember?”

“The what?” Y/N said. “Tyler’s doing a kissing booth?”

Her father nodded. “To raise funds for his family’s ranch. He and his whole ‘team’ will be there, whatever they’re called.”

Y/N paused for a moment, trying to wrap her head around it all. Was that what Tyler was trying to talk to her about the other day? The kissing booth? But why would it matter what Y/N thought about it?

Her mother ushered her up the stairs. “For Pete’s sake, change into something nice, and quickly!”

Oh, shit.

***

The Humble Creek Fair was bustling with energy. People from nearby towns came to see what it was all about, and it was always the most popular time of year.

Y/N sat at her family’s booth, eyes peeled for Tyler. She kept checking her phone to see if he’d answered, but when she didn’t get any notifications she decided to take matters into her own hands.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said to her parents.

They both nodded, and her father added, “Make sure to see how the Owens’ booth is doing. I want to make sure we’ll still be in business next year.”

Y/N looked around for the kissing booth, and when she saw a long line of women, she followed it to the front. She walked around to the back of the attraction, but didn’t see Tyler anywhere. It wasn’t until she’d nearly given up entirely when she heard a voice behind her.

“What are you wearing?”

She whisked around, coming face-to-face with Tyler, who was holding some sort of weird meat on a stick.

“What are you eating?”

“Pork leg, fried and marinated in pickle juice,” he said, shrugging. “I’m hoping it’ll make my breath smell bad so less people come up. Now, back to you.”

“What about me?”

“You’re wearing a dress. You never wear dresses. ‘Jeans and a t-shirt, that’s me,’” he says, doing a poor impression of her.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes you do, but that’s besides the point. What’s your deal?”

Y/N shrugged uncomfortably. “I wanted to, I guess.”

Tyler looked at her dead-on. “You look nice, Y/N.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been texting you for days. No response. But now that I’m here, all I get is, ‘I look nice’?” 

“What else do you want from me?”

“An answer, Tyler. What’s your deal? Why didn’t you tell me about the kissing booth?”

“I tried to, but then you came at me with all that ‘this is a bad idea’ crap, and I figured you didn’t want me to tell you. Or you didn’t care if I told you or not.”

“Okay, so—”

“Wait.” He stops her. “Do you care?”

Y/N kicks the ground. “If I did?”

“If you did,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I’d drop the pork leg and kiss you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’d eat the pork leg, and I’d kiss a bunch of people who aren’t you, and I’d feel like shit about it.” He took another step closer to her, nearly closing the gap between them. “Please say you care.”

“Ugh,” she scoffed. “You’re gonna make me say it? You can’t just, like, infer from the situation?”

“I’m really bad at inferring things,” he said, a cocky grin on his face. “So, I’m gonna need to hear you say it.”

“You’re annoying, Owens.”

“You’re pretty, L/N. Like, so pretty. But I do need to hear you say it, and I’m also gonna need you to—”

“I care, Tyler. Now shut up and kiss me, or I’m gonna take it back.”

“Can’t take it back, babe. It’s set in stone.”

In one fluid motion, he dropped the pork leg, grabbed Y/N by the waist with his other hand, and pulled her into a kiss. It was deep and passionate, not like any of the other times they’ve kissed. They kept it going for as long as they can, holding their breath until they couldn’t anymore, and then they pulled apart, gasping for air with their foreheads touching.

“Will you go out with me?” He asked her, still struggling for air. “Like, on a real date, not just driving in the truck?”

“I guess,” Y/N said, teasingly. “If I have to.”

“I mean, you don’t have to. But if you do, I’m gonna need you to wear this again.” He grabbed her and pulled her closer to him, if that’s even possible. “Because, if I’m being honest, L/N, this is the hottest I’ve ever seen you. Like, I didn’t think you could get hotter, but here we are. Speaking of, can we go? I really want to go somewhere with you. Like, privately.” He winked at her, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes again.

“Don’t you need to raise money for your farm?” She asked him, gesturing to the booth behind them.

“Fuck the farm,” he said. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy, yeah?”

“Fuck off,” she said, pulling him into another kiss.

“Seriously though, can we go?”

[thinkinginpen]

Stop Me Now Part 2

a/n: I had to write part two. I loved the first one so much pairing: dbf!logan x reader w/c: 4.1k warnings: age gap, arguing, angst, being kicked out summary: Your dad found out and it didn't end well. But you had a boyfriend now... you couldn't go back to Logan...

It had been three months. Three months since you last saw Logan. Three months since you walked out the door, leaving behind a trail of heartache and memories.

The absence of the one you loved left an emptiness in your heart like a cold, lonely vacuum. Three months passed like a slow, endless dream, and the memories you had with Logan still lingered like sweet, bittersweet ghosts in your mind.

That feeling of love was evident in every detail. The way he protected you, showing his deep care and concern, and the way he was so passionate and engaged in arguments, even when you disagreed. It was more than just lust or casual interest, it was a deeper connection born from a genuine love.

Despite what Logan had said, the love you shared still felt real and true. Perhaps your father wouldn't have approved, and maybe it seemed wrong on the surface. But none of that changed the authenticity of the love and connection you had with Logan.

At the sound of your dad's knock, your thoughts were suddenly interrupted, and your heart leaped in your chest. "Logan's here," your dad said softly through the door.

You froze for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. The thought of seeing him again after these three months filled you with...

Anger.

You felt a wave of anger and frustration wash over you as you heard your dad's casual announcement. Why was Logan here now, after all these months of silence? Did he think he could just show up unannounced, as if nothing had happened between you?

As you took a deep breath to calm yourself, your mind was racing with conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to see him, to hear his voice and feel his presence once again. But another part of you was still hurt and angry about the way things had ended.

"What does he want?" you asked your dad, trying to keep your tone even.

Your dad hesitated for a moment, sensing your confusion and frustration. "He is over for dinner honey," he responded. "What else? He missed his best friend's, AKA my, soup."

Logan was here for dinner? He was going to be sitting right across from you, just like old times? Of course, your dad never knew what happened between Logan and you so this didn't seem weird to him. To him nothing had changed. Logan was still supposedly "Uncle Wolvie" as far as he knew.

You felt a pang of guilt as you thought about your dad's ignorance. He had no idea how complex your relationship with Logan had been. And now, he was hosting him for a cozy dinner, completely oblivious to the truth.

"I don't know if I can do this," you muttered under your breath. Spending an evening with Logan, pretending everything was normal, was the last thing you wanted to do right now.

As you made your way into the dining room, you saw Logan sitting there, smiling at you, but you could see the thoughts running through his mind. He was thinking the same thing you were… This was going to be a long dinner.

Your dad, oblivious to the tension in the air, was happily setting the table and chatting away. "Ah, there she is," he exclaimed, as you entered the room. "Sit down honey, dinner's almost ready."

You forced a smile in response to your dad's cheerful greeting, trying to act like everything was fine. But as you took your seat across from Logan, you could feel the weight of the unspoken tension heavy in the room.

Logan's eyes met yours for a moment before he quickly looked away. The silence between you was deafening, broken only by your dad's cheerful chattering and the clinking of plates and silverware.

Your dad served the meal, and everyone dug in, but the conversation felt forced and stilted. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Logan, and he seemed equally uncomfortable, occasionally sneaking glances at you but mostly focusing on his plate.

As the meal progressed, your dad tried his best to keep the conversation light and cheerful, blissfully unaware of the awkwardness between you and Logan. The atmosphere at the table remained tense and strained, the elephant in the room impossible to ignore.

Logan looked up from his plate and tried to muster a smile. "Not much," he replied, avoiding your gaze. "Just keeping busy, you know."

Your dad nodded, taking another bite of his dinner. "You know, I was just thinking the other day," he continued, oblivious to the tension in the room. "It's been a while since you've come over for dinner."

Logan shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, I've been busy," he said. "But it's good to be here now."

"How about you," Logan nodded to you. "What's new, kid?"

"Not much," you replied, avoiding his gaze. The way he said "kid" felt like a dagger in your heart. It stung to hear him call you that, as if things were still the same between you.

"No exciting adventures?" Logan pressed on, trying to make conversation. But you could hear the strain in his voice, the effort it took him to keep his tone light and casual.

"Actually, I have been dating this one guy lately," you lied, forcing a casual tone. "He's been keeping things pretty interesting."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you saw Logan's expression change. A flicker of surprise and hurt passed over his face, and you took a twisted sense of satisfaction in knowing that you had gotten under his skin.

He tried to maintain his composure, but you could see the tension building in his shoulders. "Oh yeah?" he said, feigning indifference. "What's his name?"

You couldn't help but relish the chance to twist the knife further. "His name is Nate," you said, unable to keep the hint of mockery out of your voice. "He's very generous and sweet."

Logan's jaw clenched as he processed your words. The mention of another man, especially one who was supposedly generous and sweet, seemed to bother him. But he tried to hide his emotions, keeping his tone neutral.

"I see," he said, his voice betraying a hint of jealousy. "Sounds like quite the catch."

You couldn't help but smile at his obvious discomfort. Seeing him struggle with his emotions was a small victory, even if it was all based on a lie.

Your dad cleared the dishes and excused himself to do the dishes in the kitchen, leaving you and Logan alone at the table. The silence between you was deafening as you both sat there, each waiting for the other to speak first.

"I should have seen it fuckin coming."

Logan's sudden remark cut through the silence, his frustration and irritation seeping through his words. He had finally broken the stalemate, and his tone was a mix of anger and resignation.

"Please tell me some of it was fuckin real."

Logan's voice was rough with emotion, desperation laced with hurt. Your heart ached at the pain in his words, but you refused to show weakness. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, searching for answers.

"You told me to leave!" You responded angrily.

"You knew I wanted you," he shot back, his voice filled with raw emotion. "You knew how I felt about you. But you still walked out that damned door, and you never looked back."

"I didn't want to," he hissed. "You think I wanted to push you away? I was trying to protect you!"

"Protect me?" You could feel your anger rising, the pain of his words cutting through you. "Don't bullshit me! You were just scared."

"Damn right I was scared," he admitted, his voice suddenly softer. "Every day we were together was a knife in my gut. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't stay away from you. And if your dad finally found out… I knew I had to end it."

Your heart ached at his confession, but your anger and hurt still raged inside you. "And you expect me to believe that you actually cared? That it wasn't just some fling to you?"

"You know it wasn't," he replied, his voice low and fierce. "How can you even say that? I loved you, damn it. I still love you."

Your dad froze as he walked back into the dining room, realizing that he had walked in on a very charged conversation. The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension, and your dad's face was a mixture of shock and concern.

"Logan…" He said slowly, "Logan that is my daughter…"

Logan went pale, the weight of your dad's words hitting him like a ton of bricks. The guilt and embarrassment on his face were obvious, and he fidgeted in his seat, unable to look your dad in the eye.

"How long has this been going on?" your dad asked, his voice betraying a mix of anger and disappointment.

Logan interrupted you, his voice loud and furious. "It's not fucking over!"

Your dad's gaze flicked back and forth between you and Logan, his expression a mix of surprise and anger. The tension in the room was unbearable, and you knew that everything was about to blow up.

"You told me to leave! I fucking left!"

"Not out of choice!" Logan's voice was rising in volume, his frustration and anger reaching a boiling point.

"You walked out without a fight!" he yelled, his emotions getting the better of him. "You gave up on us… on me!"

Your dad held up his hand, trying to calm things down. "Whoa, whoa, let's all take a deep breath-"

"Don't you tell me to take a damn breath!" Logan snapped, his eyes still fixated on you. "You have no idea what you put me through!"

Your dad stepped closer, his voice firm. "Logan, you need to calm down. This is still my house, and I won't have you yelling at my daughter, or at me. Now take a breath and talk to me like a grown-ass man."

"What are you gonna do about it?" Logan shot back, his voice hard and challenging. "Kick my ass? Go ahead and try it."

Your dad clenched his fists, clearly struggling to control his own temper. He was seething with anger, his eyes fixed on Logan. "Logan, you better shut that damn mouth-"

But Logan was beyond rationality. "Or what?" he taunted, his voice full of bravado. "You'll do what? You gonna hit me? Go ahead. I dare you."

"Don't talk to my dad like that Logan! You caused this!"

"I caused this?" Logan exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and hurt. "You think this is all my fault? You're not innocent in this either!"

"I never said I was," you snapped. "But I'm not the one who started this whole mess in the first place."

"You wanted it just as much as I did!" Logan countered heatedly. "Don't sit there and act like you were some innocent victim! I didn't rape you!"

Your dad flinched at Logan's words, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going. "Watch your language," he warned, his voice firm.

But Logan was too far gone to listen. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said mockingly. "Should I censor myself for your precious ears? You have no idea what we've been through!"

"Logan stop!"

He ignored you, his anger and hurt fueling his words. "No, I won't stop!" he shouted. "You don't get to act like I'm the bad guy here! You were just as responsible as I was, if not more! I didn't force you into anything! I remember everything! Every sound you made! Every laugh! Every smile!"

Your heart ached as he revealed the depth of his feelings, but you tried to push past the pain. "That doesn't change the fact that you ended it!" you retorted, your voice breaking.

"I had to!" he exclaimed, his voice ragged. "Don't you think I wanted you? I'm hundreds of years older than you! Your dad would have killed me if he found out!"

"I know now Logan. Get out."

Your dad's voice was firm, his tone leaving no room for argument. Logan's eyes flicked between the two of you, his anger and frustration warring with his conflicted feelings. He knew he was outnumbered and out of options. With a clenched jaw, he pushed back from the table and stood up.

For a moment, the room was eerily silent. All you could hear was the sound of your dad's heavy breathing. You could feel his disappointment and anger practically radiating off of him.

Finally, your dad spoke, his voice low and controlled. "We need to talk."

Your heart sank at his words. You knew this conversation was not going to be easy. "Okay," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Your dad led you to the couch and sat down heavily. He took a deep breath before speaking. "What the hell are the two of you thinking?" he started, his voice carefully measured.

"I can't even begin to wrap my head around this," he continued, shaking his head in disbelief. "How long has this been going on?"

You couldn't meet his gaze as you answered. "A few months," you mumbled, feeling shame burn in your gut. "But we stopped."

Your dad's eyes widened in shock, his anger and disappointment clear. "A few months?" he repeated, his voice tight. "And you didn't think to tell me? How could you keep something like this a secret?"

You fidgeted under his scrutiny, feeling like a child being scolded. "I… I don't know," you mumbled, your voice small. "I was scared. I knew you would be mad."

"Damn right I'm mad!" your dad exclaimed, his voice rising. "I have every right to be. You've been lying to me, hiding something huge, and with a man old enough to be your father!"

"It's not just that," he continued, his anger still palpable. "Logan. Of all people, Logan. He's like a brother to me, and he was my closest friend… And you two…. How could you?"

You flinched under the weight of his disappointment. You knew you had messed up, and there was no way to make it right. "We… We can't help who we fall in love with," you mumbled, the words feeling hollow.

Your dad let out a humorless bark of laughter. "Love? This isn't love," he spat, his voice filled with anger and disbelief. "This is a mess. A huge, messy, wrong-on-so-many-levels mess. And you two dragged me right into it. It's lust."

Your eyes stung with tears as his words sunk in. "It's not just that," you protested, your voice shaky. "We care about each other-"

"Care about each other?" Your dad's voice was dripping with disbelief. "You don't know the meaning of care. Not at your age. This is just lust, plain and simple. Logan knows better. He should have had the sense to pull away before it went too far."

Your heart ached at his words. You knew he was right that Logan should have known better, but you couldn't help how you felt. "I can't just stop feeling the way I do," you muttered, your voice cracking. "I love him."

"You don't even know what love is," your dad retorted, his voice hard. "You're just caught up in the excitement of sneaking around, of doing something forbidden. It's all a game to you, a thrill. How did it start?"

You winced at his words, knowing deep down that he was partially right. You didn't know what love was. Not really. "It just… happened," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "When he was over… and you left for work… and you told him to take care of me… We…"

"You what?" your dad pressed fiercely, his voice filled with disbelief. "When I left you alone with Logan?"

"You what?" your dad pressed fiercely, his voice filled with disbelief. "When I left you alone with Logan?"

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "We… we ended up on the couch," you admitted, the words coming out in a rush. "And one thing led to another… and we just… kept meeting up… when we could."

Your dad let out a weary sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. "So you've been sneaking around right under my nose," he said, his voice weary now. "While I trusted you. While I trusted him."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, feeling the shame and guilt well up inside you. "I know I messed up, but I can't help how I feel. I love him. I have for a long time-"

Your dad's eyes narrowed at your words. "You have a boyfriend dammit!"

"I know!" you exclaimed, tears welling up in your eyes. "But it doesn't change how I feel about Logan. It doesn't change the fact that I love him!"

"You don't even know what love is," your dad repeated, his voice firm. "You're just a kid. You're hormonal. You're impressionable. You're not thinking straight."

"I am!" you protested, tears streaming down your face now. "I do know what love is. I know what I feel for Logan. You can't tell me that my feelings aren't real just because I'm young-"

"I can and I will," your dad shot back. "You don't know the first thing about love. You're just infatuated. It's a crush. It will pass. And when it does, you'll realize how foolish this all was. But in the meantime get out!"

Your heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces. "What?" you whimpered, your voice trembling. "You're kicking me out?"

"Damn right I am!" your dad retorted, his voice hard. "You broke my trust. You went behind my back. You thought you could deceive me and sneak around without any consequences. Well, now you're going to face the music. Pack a bag."

Fresh tears streamed down your face as you realized he was serious. You stumbled to your feet and rushed to your room, grabbing a bag and throwing clothes into it, your mind racing. This couldn't be happening.

Your mind was a whirlwind of confused and conflicting emotions as you packed. Anguish, guilt, hurt, anger, and fear all vied for dominance. You could hear your dad’s voice drifting in from the living room, a mixture of anger and disappointment. As you shoved the last of your belongings into your bag, you tried to collect yourself, wiping your tears on your sleeve.

With a final glance around your room, you took a deep breath and walked back into the living room, your heart in your throat. Your dad looked up as you entered. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was set and his eyes were like steel.

"Are you packed?" he asked gruffly, his voice betraying none of the emotion that must have been swirling within him too.

You nodded, unable to speak for fear of bursting into tears again. Your dad’s eyes flicked over your bag, then back to your face. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable.

Finally, your dad let out a heavy sigh. "Well, get going then," he said, his voice as neutral as he could manage.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, causing fresh tears to spill down your cheeks. "But… But where am I supposed to go?" you managed to croak out, your voice betraying your fear and confusion.

Your dad's expression softened just a fraction. "That's not my problem," he said, his voice still tense. "You made your bed, now you have to lie in it. I can't have you under my roof when you've been deceiving me like this."

It felt like being stabbed in the heart. You had hoped that, despite his anger and disappointment, he would still have some compassion for you. But his words left no room for doubt. You were being pushed out. "You don’t care what happens to me?" you whispered, your voice small and hurt.

Your dad's face tightened, the lines in his forehead deepening. "Don't put words in my mouth," he snapped. "Of course I care about what happens to you. I’m your dad. But I can't condone what you've done. You've betrayed my trust and disobeyed my rules. You need to learn that actions have consequences."

You nodded, understanding the message. Your tears continued to fall silently as the full weight of your actions crashed down on you. You had crossed a line, and now you were being sent away because of it.

"Go stay with Logan," your dad said, his voice flat. "You like him so much, maybe he can take care of you for a while. See how long your little fantasy world lasts out in the real world."

Shock and disbelief flashed through you at his words. "What?" you exclaimed, your voice rising. "You're sending me to him? After everything that's happened? You can't be serious!"

"No, I'm not joking," your dad said sternly. "You want Logan so badly? Go to him. Let him deal with you for a while. See how he likes having to be responsible for a spoiled, disobedient teenager who has no concept of the real world."

Your heart felt like it was being torn in half. You had never thought it would come to this. "I… I can't stay with him," you protested, your voice thick with tears. "I don't think he even wants me there! And I have a boyfriend!"

Your dad's eyes darkened at the mention of your boyfriend. "You should have thought about that before you started sneaking around behind my back," he snapped. "And Logan can deal with it. He's a big boy. Maybe it's time for him to put his money where his mouth is."

You felt numb as the truth of his words hit you. There was no point trying to argue. You knew your dad had made up his mind. "Fine," you mumbled, your voice hollow. "I'll go."

With that you walked out. It was late and cold. You pulled out your phone and did something you thought you never would again.

"Can you come get me?"

There was a long pause as you waited anxiously, the cold night air stinging your skin. You shivered and hugged your bag closer to your chest, feeling completely alone. Then, finally, your phone buzzed with a reply.

Lo: "Where are you?"

The short message was all that was sent, but it was enough.

You sent him your location and then waited, teeth chattering as the cold seeped into your bones. It felt like an eternity until a familiar car pulled up next to you, the interior warm and inviting.

You opened the door and quickly slid into the passenger seat, the heat of the car like a balm to your freezing body. You avoided looking at the man at the wheel, but you could feel the tension thick in the air.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence as the car pulled away from the curb. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, your chest aching with a strange mixture of guilt, shame, and a small flicker of… something else.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the car pulled into a quiet, residential street, coming to a stop in front of a small house. The engine fell silent, but neither of you made a move to get out. You glanced at him, the light of the street lamp casting a dim glow over his features.

He was staring straight ahead, his hands clenching the steering wheel. His jaw was set and his expression solemn. The line of his shoulders was tense, his body taut like a coil ready to spring. It was clear that he had a lot he wanted to say, but was holding himself back.

The silence between you was thick and charged. He finally turned his gaze from the front windshield to look at you, his eyes dark and intense. "We need to talk," he said, his voice soft but firm.

A mixture of fear and anticipation fluttered in your stomach, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders. "Okay," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the rapid pounding of your heart.

He pushed open the driver's side door, gesturing for you to follow. You got out of the car, the cold air hitting you like a slap in the face. You shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself as you followed him up the path to his front door.

He unlocked the door, holding it open for you. You stepped into the warm, cozy interior, feeling a mixture of relief and trepidation. The house was small, but comfortable, and you could see glimpses of his life in every corner. Photos on the walls, books on the shelves, a jacket slung over the back of a chair.

He closed the door behind you and then leaned against it, his body blocking the only exit. He didn't say anything, just watched you, his eyes roaming over your face and body as if trying to figure you out.

"Sit."

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

Part 1 Part 2

🏷️: @fablehaven-rulez

[be4chywritez]

sweet like honey | max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader

"you're to sweet for me."

Max doesn't like how nice you are towards him.

beachy’s masterlist🐚

Max isn't sure why he doesn’t like you. You’ve never wronged him, never talked bad about him, or been rude in any way. But for some odd reason, Max hates you.

Maybe it’s the Verstappen genes kicking in, that innate tendency to be an asshole. Or maybe it’s bred into him to keep sweet things like you at a distance. So, you can imagine his shock and horror when he sees you perched on the couch, flipping through a book in his friend’s Italian villa.

Your eyes meet his, and a smile graces your lips. You place the book in your lap, and he watches as your eyes brighten at the sight of him, the same way they might light up at the sight of a pretty flower.

Your small yellow sundress barely covers your upper thighs, and Max can’t help but stare before quickly looking down at his phone, not wanting to be too obvious about his boyish gawking.

“Max,” you say softly, your voice warm and rich like honey, drawing his attention whether he wants it or not.

He hears you, of course, but pretends to focus on his phone. His thumb moves slowly over the screen, though nothing he sees holds his interest. It’s the way you say his name that sticks in his mind, making it impossible to ignore.

“It’s nice to see you,” you continue, your tone sincere as if you mean it more than you should. You settle back into the cushions, your dress slipping a little higher on your thighs, and he catches himself glancing before looking away again.

Max lets out a quiet huff, his eyes still fixed on his phone, but his attention is all on you now. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, almost guarded.

You shift, crossing your legs under you, the air feeling warmer, closer. “A surprise, I guess,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips, the kind that lingers, soft and effortless.

Max clenches his jaw, forcing himself to look back at his phone. Still, he’s hyper-aware of your presence, of the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the room. He swallows hard, trying to steady himself, even as his chest tightens.

“Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, like he’s afraid to say anything else, and you let the moment settle, content with the quiet between you.

Just then, his best friend Jamie stumbles in, holding a glass of chardonnay. “Maxie,” he coos, squishing Max’s cheeks together, making his lips pucker. Close behind comes your best friend, Mila—Jamie’s girlfriend.

A few others join the group, a mix of Jamie and Mila’s friends, and Max’s brow furrows as he realizes that they’re all couples. He internally groans, watching your eyes flit around like a lost puppy.

“Alright, everyone,” Mila announces with a clap of her hands, “time to head up. We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.”

One by one, the group starts dispersing, grabbing their things and heading upstairs. Max lingers, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, but he’s acutely aware of you standing up from the couch, smoothing down the hem of your dress.

You move with an easy grace, slipping past him with a soft, “Goodnight, Max.” There’s no sarcasm, no bite—just genuine kindness that he doesn’t understand. You flash him a small smile before heading toward the stairs.

Max’s jaw tightens as he watches you go. You’re far too calm, far too kind for his liking. It makes him uncomfortable, like you’re holding a mirror up to the way he behaves, forcing him to see the stark contrast between you.

He takes a deep breath, tucking his phone into his pocket, and follows behind the group. The villa is beautiful, the soft glow of the lights casting long shadows across the walls as everyone makes their way to their respective rooms. His room is at the far end of the hall, and as he reaches it, he notices you standing just outside the door next to his.

“Looks like we’re neighbors,” you say lightly, your voice warm and soft. You hold your toothbrush and a towel, your yellow sundress replaced by pale pink silky pajamas, and there’s something almost disarming about how comfortable you seem.

Max nods, his expression neutral. “Yeah.”

You don’t push the conversation, only smile again as you step into your room. “Sleep well, Max,” you say over your shoulder, as if you mean it.

He huffs quietly, more out of habit than frustration, and slips into his own room. The door closes with a soft click, and he leans back against it, rubbing a hand over his face.

For a moment, he stands there, in the silence of the room, staring at nothing in particular. He doesn’t know why your kindness unsettles him so much. It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but that’s exactly the problem. You’re too nice. Too understanding. And for some reason, it gets under his skin.

Max changes into a T-shirt and shorts, moving about the room on autopilot. He keeps hearing your voice, soft and sweet, lingering in his thoughts.

Finally, he pulls back the covers and slides into bed, trying to shut everything out. But it’s quiet now—too quiet. And even though you’re just on the other side of the wall, he can’t stop thinking about you.

In the middle of the night, he’s still awake, tossing and turning, when there’s a soft knock on his door. Max sits up, frowning slightly, wondering who it could be at this hour.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads across the room, opening the door just a crack. It’s you, standing there, a little sheepish, your arms crossed lightly over your chest.

“Sorry,” you whisper, barely audible, “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just… my room's really hot. I think the AC is broken.”

Max blinks, unsure of what to say at first. Part of him wants to tell you to deal with it yourself, but another part of him can’t ignore it.

His eyes linger on you more than he’d admit—your hair sticking to your neck from sweat, your cheeks flushed, and you nibble your lip nervously. Your tank top has ridden up, a sliver of your hip exposed, and Max does everything in his power to push those thoughts away.

“Uh… you could just crack open a window,” he suggests, his voice a bit rough from sleep. He knows the words sound hollow even to him. He doesn’t want you in his space, yet part of him doesn’t want you sweating alone either.

You fidget slightly, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I tried, but it didn’t help. I just thought… maybe I could crash in here?” The words hang in the air, hopeful yet tentative.

Max’s heart races at the idea. The prospect of sharing the bed makes his palms sweat. It’s one thing to be in the same room, but sharing a bed? He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his tone. The image of you curled up beside him—too close for comfort—sends a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah, no, you’re right,” you offer a nervous smile, clearly not wanting to invade his space, so you back away, ducking into your room. He watches you until the door is shut behind you.

Max stands in the doorway, his heart racing as he processes the moment. He’s not sure why he feels such a strong urge to call you back, to insist that it’s okay, but the words remain stuck in his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of irritation and something else—something he’s not ready to name.

As he paces back to his bed, he tries to shake off the lingering image of you standing there, your flushed cheeks and nervous smile. He lies down again, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you’re just a wall away.

A few moments pass before he hears a soft, muffled noise from your room—a sniffle, maybe? It makes his chest tighten at the thought of you crying because you're uncomfortable.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself, tossing an arm over his eyes. He’s not going to sleep if he keeps thinking about you like this.

After what feels like an eternity of tossing and turning, he finally sits up, his decision made. He stands up, his heart pounding in his chest, and makes his way to your door. He raises his hand to knock but hesitates, uncertainty flooding in.

“Why the hell am I doing this?” he mutters, his self-doubt creeping back in. But the thought of you feeling uncomfortable alone is enough to push him through. He knocks softly, the sound barely more than a tap.

“Hey,” you call from inside, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, his voice worse than he intended. “I… just thought maybe you could come back. It’s probably not that hot here.”

There’s a brief silence, and he can imagine the look on your face—surprised and perhaps a little hopeful. “Really?” you ask, and he can’t help the slight smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

The door swings open, revealing you still in your silk-clad pajamas. He rips his gaze away, feeling a tightness in his throat. He doesn't utter a word, just turns around, walking to his room. He can hear your feet padding behind him, and you close the door behind the both of you.

Max keeps his back to you as you quietly follow him into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The air feels heavier now, thick with unspoken tension as you stand there in the dim light, waiting for him to say something. But Max doesn’t. Instead, he heads straight for the bed, pulling back the covers on one side, his movements stiff and a little too deliberate.

“You can take the right side,” he mutters, not looking at you, as he slides under the covers on the left. His heart is pounding, though he tries to act like everything is fine.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to thank him or just keep quiet. Deciding not to push it, you simply nod, even though he isn’t looking at you. You cross the room and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The mattress dips slightly under your weight, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he can feel the same tension thrumming between you that you do. The bed feels impossibly small now, the space between you a thin sliver of air that crackles with awkwardness.

You lie still, facing away from him, but you can feel his presence—so close and yet so distant. The sound of his steady breathing fills the room, and you wonder if he’s doing the same as you, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself to sleep.

Minutes stretch on, and the silence between you is deafening. Every creak of the bed, every shift in the sheets seems louder in the stillness of the night. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice so soft it barely breaks the silence. You don’t expect a reply, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your own breathing.

Then, finally, Max shifts slightly beside you. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, his voice low and rough, but there’s something different in it now. Something that isn’t as cold as before.

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he isn’t as indifferent as he wants you to think. You curl up a little more, trying to make yourself comfortable, even as the tension lingers in the air between you.

As the night drags on, you begin to drift in and out of sleep. The heat from the earlier part of the night is gone now, replaced by a cooler breeze that drifts in through the open window. The sheets are soft, and for the first time since you entered Max’s room, you start to relax.

Just as you’re on the edge of sleep, you feel something shift again. Max turns slightly, the mattress dipping as he moves closer—just barely, but enough for you to notice. His arm brushes against yours, and the warmth of his skin sends a small jolt through you.

You stay perfectly still, wondering if he did it on purpose or if he’s just restless. Either way, you don’t move, afraid to disturb the delicate balance between you.

Your mind races—what if you roll over onto him in your sleep? What if you start snoring?—and the nerves bubble up, spilling out before you can stop yourself.

“So… I haven’t slept in a guy’s bed in ages,” you blurt out, staring at the ceiling. Max barely reacts, his only acknowledgment a low, noncommittal “Mhm,” but it doesn’t stop you from talking.

“Yeah, it’s been, like… a long time. I’m more of a 'sleep with a thousand pillows' kind of person, you know? Gotta have the right setup.” You laugh a little, mostly to yourself, feeling the need to fill the quiet. Max doesn’t respond, but you keep going, too nervous to stop. “Oh, and I’m really bad with directions, like, I get lost in grocery stores. Once, I ended up in the freezer aisle for thirty minutes just trying to find the cereal.”

“Mhm.”

His replies are half-hearted at best, but you don’t mind. If anything, the sound of his quiet indifference weirdly helps soothe your nerves.

“Oh! And I can’t swim,” you say with a laugh, thinking it’s just another random fact to throw out there. But this time, Max’s head snaps toward you.

“You came to the amalfi coast, and you can’t swim?” he asks, his voice sharper than before, with a hint of amusement. His eyes narrow slightly, and you can’t help but grin.

“Yeah,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Figured I’d just, you know… stay on the shore.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” you say, laughing softly, your nerves easing a bit. “But I’m good at other things. Like… did you know I can recite the entire script of Finding Nemo? Well, mostly.”

Max rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Great skill.”

You keep talking, the words flowing easier now. Your voice fills the room, soft and rhythmic, and even though Max doesn’t say much, you can feel the tension in the air start to shift. His body relaxes slightly, the space between you feeling a little less awkward.

“And another thing, I’m a terrible cook. Burnt spaghetti once. Didn’t even think that was possible. It’s water and noodles, right?” You laugh again, and this time Max lets out a quiet huff—almost like a chuckle, though he’d never admit it.

Your voice is like a steady hum, lulling the room into a gentle calm. You talk about everything and nothing, the words spilling out in a quiet stream. Max listens, his responses becoming softer, almost inaudible, but it doesn’t matter. His breathing slows, his eyes fluttering shut as your voice washes over him.

You don’t notice when he finally drifts off, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. But somehow, you feel it—the way the energy in the room has shifted, his earlier sharpness melted away into something softer, more relaxed.

The next morning, sunlight spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stir first, the warmth of the bed enveloping you, your body reluctant to wake. For a moment, you forget where you are, and then it hits you—Max’s bed, Max’s room. You blink your eyes open slowly, turning your head slightly to see him still there, asleep.

He’s lying on his back now, the sheets tangled around his waist, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. His face is serene, the harsh lines you’ve come to associate with him softened by sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, giving him an almost boyish look, something so different from the hard-edged man who usually glares at you.

You feel a strange flutter in your chest as you look at him, this version of Max—unguarded, vulnerable. It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see, and it’s almost too intimate, too close. You shift a little, trying not to make any noise, but the bed creaks softly under your weight.

Max stirs, his brows furrowing slightly as he slowly wakes up. His eyes open halfway, still hazy with sleep, and for a brief moment, he looks at you without the usual edge in his gaze. It’s like he’s forgotten for a second who you are, where he is.

Then, reality seems to settle back in, and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, though there’s no real malice there. Just a kind of gruff annoyance.

“Mornin’,” he mutters, his voice rough and low, thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply softly, offering a tentative smile.

He shifts, pushing himself up on his elbows, the sheet falling further down his waist, revealing more of his toned torso. You can’t help but glance, quickly averting your eyes when you realize you’re staring.

Max runs a hand through his messy hair, yawning as he glances at you. “You talk a lot in your sleep too, or is that just when you’re awake?” he asks, a hint of that familiar sarcasm creeping back into his tone, though there’s no real bite behind it.

You chuckle lightly, relaxing a little. “Only when I’m awake, I promise.”

He grunts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you less awkward than you would’ve expected. It’s almost… comfortable.

Max stretches, his muscles flexing slightly as he does, and you try not to let your eyes linger too long. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you’re grateful when he doesn’t seem to notice.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “how’d you sleep?”

He glances back at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine, I guess.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, almost begrudgingly, “Didn’t mind all the talking.”

Your heart skips a beat at that, the small admission catching you off guard. You smile, warmth spreading through you. “Glad to know I didn’t annoy you too much.”

Max doesn’t respond, just grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time. But you catch the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips before he turns away.

He stands, pulling on a shirt and running a hand through his hair again before heading toward the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast soon,” he mutters. “Don’t take too long.”

He steps out before poking his head back in his face serious, “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says gesturing a finger around towards you and him, right asshole Max is alive and well.

“Right.” you deflate, but none the less walk to your room. You notice the AC now works. 

The warmth of the Italian sun is already starting to filter in through your window as you slip into your pale yellow babydoll dress. The soft fabric feels light against your skin, perfect for the warm weather and the laid-back vibes of the villa.

When you finally make your way downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries fills the air, and you can hear the familiar hum of laughter and chatter. The villa’s terrace is bathed in sunlight, with everyone seated around the large outdoor table, enjoying breakfast. 

Max is already seated, of course, his usual stoic expression in place. He’s leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on, making it impossible to tell if he’s even noticed you. 

An array of colorful fruits and pastries litters the table, couples chatting and laughing as you offer everyone a warm smile while taking a seat next to Mila, who returns the gesture. “How was the room, darling?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea. You can feel a pair of laser beams on your face, as if Max is staring into your soul.

“Oh, it was truly nice,” you reply, feeling the tips of your ears heat up with nerves. Mila seems to buy it and turns to address the entire group.

“So, guys, today we’re going to take the yacht around,” she announces, eliciting a few excited hoots from your friends. Your stomach tightens at the thought of being stuck on a yacht, but you brush the anxiety aside.

As the chatter around the breakfast table grows, the knot in your stomach tightens at the mention of the yacht. You toy with the edge of your napkin, trying to suppress the wave of nerves that accompanies the idea of being out on the water, especially since you can’t swim.

Max, still leaning back in his chair, tilts his head slightly in your direction, as if he senses the unease radiating off you. His sunglasses shield his eyes, but you swear you can feel his gaze tracing over you. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can almost hear his voice echoing in your mind: “You came to the Amalfi Coast, and you can’t swim?”

You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you join in on the group's excitement, even though the thought of being surrounded by water sends a shiver down your spine. Mila stands, gathering everyone’s attention, and starts guiding the group toward the dock.

The villa’s outdoor space spills into a sprawling garden, leading to a private path that takes you to where the yacht is docked. The sunlight glints off the water, almost blinding in its brightness, as you walk with the others toward the sleek, luxurious yacht. Everyone seems thrilled—laughing and talking about the views they’ll see—while you stay quieter than usual, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves.

You tug at the sleeves of your oversized polo, the fabric bunching slightly in your grip as you focus on steadying your breath. The path to the dock feels longer than it actually is, the sounds of the group’s lively chatter fading into the background. You glance at the shimmering blue water ahead and bite the inside of your cheek.

Max lingers just a few steps behind, and you can feel the weight of his presence even without looking. His footsteps are slow and deliberate, as if he’s watching you closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. You try not to dwell on it, though the image of him smirking at your fear lingers in the back of your mind.

As the group finally boards the yacht, you become hyper-aware of the water surrounding you. The boat rocks gently as everyone gets settled, and you grip the railing tightly, trying to hide your discomfort. Max watches you for a moment before walking past you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours.

“Relax,” he mutters under his breath, not even looking at you, but there’s something almost reassuring in his tone. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to take a seat with the others, letting the warmth of the sun and the sound of conversation distract you from the vast ocean around you.

As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you try to focus on the scenery. The Amalfi Coast is breathtaking—cliffs draped in greenery, colorful villas dotting the shoreline, and the ocean sparkling beneath the golden sunlight. Everyone around you laughs and soaks up the beauty of the day, but your hands remain clenched in your lap, your mind preoccupied with the endless expanse of water.

Despite your nervousness, you find yourself stealing glances at Max. He’s sitting at the back of the yacht, one arm draped casually over the side, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he stares out at the water. He looks so at ease, completely unaffected by the swaying of the boat or the openness of the sea.

The breeze picks up, ruffling your hair, and as you turn your attention back to the group, you feel the yacht slow down. Mila claps her hands, announcing that they’ve anchored near a beautiful cove, perfect for swimming.

Your stomach drops.

Everyone begins shedding layers, excitement buzzing through the group as they prepare to jump into the water. You stay seated, gripping the edge of your chair as they leap overboard, laughter echoing around you.

Max stands, pulling off his shirt and revealing the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Your eyes linger for a moment longer than you intend. He catches your gaze just before he moves toward the edge of the yacht, that same smirk playing on his lips.

“You coming in?” he asks, his voice low, almost challenging.

You shake your head quickly, offering a small laugh. “No, I think I’ll just… stay here and enjoy the sun.”

Max arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn’t push it. He gives you one last look, his smirk still in place, before diving effortlessly into the water.

You watch as your friends giggle and enjoy themselves. Mila waves up at you, and you give her a fake salute. She giggles and goes back to swimming. A few minutes later, several members of the group come up to take a break, Max among them. You hate to admit it, but you watch the water droplets roll off him, his cheeks flushed from the sun, and a tight feeling blooms in your core as you force yourself to look away.

The group is lively, and at one point, Jamie, always the instigator, starts playfully shoving friends toward the edge of the boat, teasing and laughing. You stand at the back, watching, hoping to stay out of the chaos.

But in a moment of playful exuberance, Jamie swings his arm and accidentally nudges you forward. Time seems to slow as you lose your balance, and before you can even process what’s happening, you tumble over the side of the yacht. The water crashes around you, and as you hit the surface, the cold rush envelops you, sending panic gripping your chest. Instinctively, you kick your legs, but the water pulls you under, and you flail in confusion. The world above disappears, and the muffled sounds of laughter and splashing fade into silence.

Just as you start to lose hope, a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back to the surface. You gasp for air, blinking the water from your eyes, and find yourself face-to-face with Max. His expression is intense, irritation etched on his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, though his grip is steady and reassuring as he keeps you afloat.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, trying to shake off the fear. “I didn’t want to go in!” you manage to sputter, still clinging to him for dear life.

Max rolls his eyes, the frown returning, though it’s softer this time. “You need to stop thrashing around,” he says, his voice lower now.

As he helps you back onto the yacht, the warmth of the sun hits your damp skin once more. Laughter and cheers erupt from the group as they realize you’re okay, but Max’s presence is the only thing that matters to you in this moment. He doesn’t say anything; his expression remains unreadable as he sets you down.

You catch your breath, water dripping from your hair and running down your arms. “Thanks, Max,” you say, trying to brush off the embarrassment. His usual smirk is absent, and for a split second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he cares.

But as soon as you’re on the boat, he steps back, leaving you with the others. “Try not to drown next time,” he says, his tone flat as he pulls his shirt back on, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. It feels more like a reflex than a genuine jab, but you let it slide, laughing it off. “I’ll try my best.”

He turns away, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You shake your head, trying to focus on the laughter around you as Jamie and Mila check to make sure you’re okay. “Really, I’m fine,” you assure them, even as your heart races from the close call.

Just like that, everyone goes back to normal. Lunch is served, and as the yacht heads back to the dock under the fading light, you’re the first one off, eager to touch solid ground once more. You don’t bid anyone goodnight; you’re all too tired for that. You head upstairs to your room, closing the door behind you and shrugging off your damp polo and swimsuit. You hop in the shower, rinsing the salt water off your skin.

After your shower, the soft sound of knocking pulls you from your thoughts. You wrap yourself in a towel and open the door to find Mila standing there, concern etched across her features.

“Hey, just wanted to check on you,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of distress. “That fall looked pretty rough.”

You chuckle softly, waving it off. “I’m fine, really. Just a little embarrassed.”

Mila raises an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “You sure it’s not because of Max? I saw the way he pulled you out of the water. It looked pretty… intimate.”

The mention of Max sends a warmth flooding through you, one that you quickly dismiss. “Oh, please. He was just being a jerk, as usual.”

She smirks, crossing her arms. “Or maybe he just likes the attention.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, but a small part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it. “He’s just… Max. You know how he is.”

Mila studies you for a moment, trying to read between the lines. “Well, just think about it. He’s not always the way he acts, you know?”

With that, she leaves, and you find yourself lost in thought, her words echoing in your mind. What if Max really did care?

Later that night, curiosity gets the better of you. You stand in front of Max’s door, your heart racing as you knock softly.

“Come in,” he calls, and you push the door open cautiously. He’s lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone, and for a moment, you’re struck by how at home he looks.

“Hey,” you say, your voice soft. “I just wanted to thank you… for earlier.”

Max looks up, a flicker of something in his gaze before he masks it with indifference. “You mean for saving your ass?” he quips, his smirk returning. “Don’t mention it.”

You roll your eyes, stepping further into the room. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

His expression shifts, annoyance flickering across his features. “What do you want me to do? Throw you a parade for not drowning?”

“Maybe just a little acknowledgment would be nice,” you counter, crossing your arms defensively.

He stands, taking a step closer, and the air between you crackles with tension. “I don’t like how sweet you are,” he says, his tone sharp. “It’s annoying.”

“Annoying?” you challenge, feeling a rush of defiance. “Is that really all you’ve got? Because it sounds like you’re just scared of someone actually caring.”

Max’s eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he might snap back. But instead, he steps even closer, invading your personal space. “You think you’re so great, don’t you? All sunshine and rainbows, but it doesn’t work with me.”

Before you can respond, he closes the distance, and suddenly, his lips are on yours—fervent and demanding. His warmth envelops you, slightly chapped against your own, igniting a spark that sends a thrill coursing through your entire body. You’re caught off guard at first, but your instincts take over, and you melt into the kiss, feeling his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer.

As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He presses you against the door, his body firm and solid against yours, radiating heat that makes your pulse quicken. The kiss is intoxicating; every second stretches into eternity—his lips moving against yours in a dance that feels both wild and tender.

When you finally pull away, breathless, your heart races as you search his eyes. “Wait… Max—”

He leans in again, his breath mingling with yours, heavy with longing. “You taste sweet,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, a smirk tugging at his lips.

A rush of warmth floods your cheeks at his words. “Is that all you have to say?” you tease, a smile breaking through your fluster.

Max steps back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as he watches you intently. “What do you want me to say? That I’m an asshole who can’t help but want you?”

The air between you buzzes with unspoken tension—a mix of frustration and attraction. You feel exhilarated yet confused, unable to ignore the thrill of being this close to him, the chemistry crackling like electricity.

“Maybe you could start by admitting you actually care,” you challenge softly, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Maybe,” he replies, a hint of seriousness in his tone before leaning in again, capturing your lips with his. This time, it’s even more intense; his hands grip your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he can’t get enough of you.

But as the moment stretches on, you pull back slightly, breathless. “Max—”

He leans in again, and you find yourself needing to physically stop him, your hands resting on his chest. “Wait, we can’t just—”

“Why not?” he presses, his voice low and needy, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

You’re both panting, caught in an electric moment. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” you say, a smile creeping onto your lips despite the chaos swirling around you.

Max smirks, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, but you like it.” He crashes his lips against yours once more, and as he pulls away, he runs his tongue along his lower lip, a boyish smirk breaking through. “Sweet like honey,” he teases, prompting you to laugh and tilt your head back. Without thinking, you pull him down by his shirt collar, kissing him again, lost in the moment.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Bad Day at Black Rock | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: panic attack/PTSD, recovering from a sexual assault (HEED THESE WARNINGS ESPECIALLY FOR THIS CHAPTER), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 6673

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

“What?!” you exclaimed. “She’s a demon, and you didn’t gank her?!”

Sam had just finished telling you and Dean about this Ruby girl he’d met. 

“No, (Y/N), I mean, she seemed pretty helpful on the Seven Deadlies case.”

“Wait, she’s the blonde chick?!” you realized. “Why the fuck would a demon help me?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered. “That’s what I’m trying to understand, too. And if she helped us then, I don’t see why I shouldn’t have at least listened to what she had to say.”

“Because ‘demon,’ that's why,” Dean snapped angrily. “I mean, the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon, you go for the holy water! You don't chat!”

“No one was chatting, Dean,” Sam huffed.

“Oh yeah? Then why didn't you send her ass back to Hell?”

“Because she said she might be able to help us out!”

“With what, though, Sam,” you chimed in. “You’ve never said how she’s supposed to be able to help us. Or with what.”

“She told me she could help Dean,” Sam said quietly.

Dean seemed to not understand.

“With the crossroads deal, I’m assuming,” you told him.

Sam nodded.

The older brother looked at Sam incredulously. “What is wrong with you, huh? She's lying, you gotta know that, don't you? She knows what your weakness is; it's me.” Dean paused for a second. “What else did she say?”

Sam was quiet again.

You and Dean leaned in expectantly. “Dude?” the older brother questioned.

“Nothing. Nothing, Okay?!” Sam snapped. “Look, I'm not an idiot, guys. I'm not talking about trusting her, I'm talking about using her. I mean, we're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy. We don't know where they are; we don't know what they're doing. I mean, hell, we don't know what they want. Now, this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now, yes, it's a risk, I know that, but we need to take it.”

“You're okay right, I mean you're feeling okay?” Dean asked.

Sam huffed. “Yes I'm fine. Why are you always asking me that?”

You looked between the two brothers when a phone began ringing. You checked your pockets; no buzzing. Sam and Dean’s phones weren’t ringing either. 

“Check the glove box, it's Dad's,” Dean suddenly realized.

“Dad’s?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call.”

‘Smart boy,’ you thought.

Sam opened the glove box and found the ringing phone. “Hello? Yes... this is Edgar Casey… No! No, no, no, don't – don't call the police, I'll handle this myself. Thanks. You know, can you just uh, can you just lock it back up for me? Great. Uhm, I- I uh, I don't have my - my book in front of me—” Sam gestured to you for a pen, which you quickly handed to him— “do you- do you have the address so I can... Sure, okay. Go ahead. Right, thanks a lot.” He then hung up and turned to Dean. “Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?”

“What?” Dean asked.

“Outside of Buffalo?”

The older brother shook his head. “No way.”

“Yeah. And someone just broke into it.”

***

“No demons allowed,” Sam noted upon entering his father’s storage container. A large Devil’s Trap was etched into the ground, and two sets of bloody footprints traveled right through it. 

“Check this out,” Dean said, stooping to hold up a tripwire. It was attached to a shotgun hidden in a large animal skull. 

“Whoever broke in here got tagged,” Sam said.

“I got two sets of boot treads here,” you announced, “looks like it was a two-man job. And Buckshot Boy looks like he kept walking.” You nodded toward the bloody footprint trail leading into the container.

“So, what's the deal?” Sam wondered aloud. “Dad would do work here or something?”

“Living the high life, as usual,” Dean quipped.

The three of you crept around John’s storage locker, and the two brothers chatted about how much of a mystery their father still was to them. You took in the varying types of clutter. To your surprise, the room was filled with old memorabilia; photo albums, a graduation cap and gown you assumed was Sam’s, and a few boxes whose contents were written on the outside of them in a woman’s handwriting you assumed belonged to Mary. 

You smiled at a trophy on a shelf nearby. “Check it out,” you said, picking it up and dusting it off. “Sam Winchester, 1995,” you read aloud, “Soccer Division Championship.”

Sam grinned and came over to you. “No way! I can't believe he kept this.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled lopsidedly, “it was probably about the closest you ever came to being a boy.” He wandered over to another table with a shotgun laid on it. “Oh, wow! It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. Sixth grade.” The older brother laughed and pumped the dusty shotgun.

“You made that?” you questioned.

“Not bad, eh?” he grinned excitedly.

“No, not at all,” you giggled. “Damn, dude.” You took the gun from him and inspected it, impressed with Dean’s craftsmanship. He smiled proudly at you.

“Guys, over here,” Sam said. You followed his voice over to a door to a back room. The chain on the door had been cut, and you cautiously made your way inside.

You waved your flashlight around the room to find varying weapons and lockboxes that no doubt held nasty supernatural objects.

“Holy crap. Look at this,” Dean called, “he had land mines. Which they didn't take. Or the guns. I guess they knew what they were after, huh?”

You took in the lockboxes on the shelf on the far wall. “This is binding magic,” you pointed out. “Curse boxes.”

“Curse boxes?” Dean questioned. “They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right? Kinda like the Pandora deal?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object.”

“Well, Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, y'know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes. He never did say where they ended up,” Dean added.

“Must be his sulfur-sludge dump,” you joked. You noticed a rectangular-shaped hole in the dust that had settled over the shelf. “Well, they found what they were looking for.”

“Great,” Sam groaned.

“Well, maybe they didn't open it,” Dean suggested optimistically. 

“Cute thought, but I’m sure they did,” you replied flippantly. You looked around the exterior of the storage unit for anything that could be of use to you; footprints, tire tracks, and… aha! A security camera.

“That’s helpful,” you noted, pointing up at it. 

The boys helped you fish the SD card out of the security camera, and you hooked it up to your computer. 

“There, license plate,” you noted. “And now…” you pulled up an alternate tab and copied the license plate number into it. Immediately, pages began scrolling of places the license plate had been seen at. Most recently, an apartment not too far from you. 

“Ta-da,” you announced childishly, and the brothers looked at you in shock.

“Jesus, (Y/N), how’d you get access to all this?” Sam asked.

“Oh, y’know,” you smirked, trailing off. 

Sam looked at you expectantly. 

“Same way any hackers do,” you shrugged. “Had this guy on the hook for a bit when I was, maybe, twenty. Found out he was an FBI agent in the cyber unit— not the brightest of the bunch— and I phished his computer. Of course, as soon as I did, the computer broke and shut down. Told him I was good with computers and could fix it for him, and then, I cut and run. Fixed the laptop up and had access to everything he had access to. Exported it to my laptop, ditched his somewhere in Arizona, and here we are.”

“That is…” Dean trailed off, “incredibly hot.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. 

“Get a room,” Sam mumbled, moving over to the Impala.

***

You and the Winchesters crept into the apartment belonging to the drivers of the stolen Connecticut vehicle, guns drawn. You could hear two men chattering about their poker game, and then you finally burst into the room on Dean’s nod.

“Freeze, freeze! Nobody move!” he commanded.

“He said don’t fucking move!” you ordered, pinning the bandaged, redheaded man to his seat with your gun.

“What is this?” the other man questioned.

“Stop!” Sam demanded. 

“Alright, give us the box. And please tell me that you didn't–”

Sam cut Dean off. “Oh, they did.”

“You opened it?!” Dean grunted. He shoved the dark-haired man against the wall.

“Are you guys cops?!” the man pinned wondered.

“What was in the box?” Dean questioned angrily.

You noticed a rabbit’s foot on the edge of the table. ‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought. 

“Oh, was that it, huh?” Dean laughed coldly. “It was, wasn't it? What is that thing?”

The man used Dean’s distraction to knock the gun out of his hand. When it fell to the floor, it fired, and you had to drop to the floor to avoid being hit in the face by the bullet.

The bullet ricocheted off the radiator and hit Sam’s gun, and he dropped it. The same bullet somehow ricocheted and hit a lamp, breaking it. You dove across the floor, trying to grab Sam’s gun, and the redheaded man pushed Sam down on top of you.

“The fuck, Sam?!”

“Sorry!”

You scrambled toward the redhead, and he backhanded you, somehow knocking you off balance and sending you to the floor. You normally wouldn’t have been so thrown off by such a simple move, but that rabbit’s foot was definitely working its magic. 

“Dean, I got it!” Sam announced. You turned around to see him holding the rabbit’s foot.

“Fuck, Sam, no!” you cried upon seeing him holding the cursed object.

The dark-haired man moved forward holding Dean’s favored gun and cocked it in his face. The man pulled the trigger in Sam’s face, but the gun jammed. 

‘Thank god.’

A quick scuffle ensued in which the two men opposing you had a bookshelf fall on them and a carpet got wrapped around their ankles and tripped them. Both men knocked themselves out, and Dean laughed triumphantly.

“That was a lucky break!”

“No, not lucky!” you shrieked. “Sam, that’s a rabbit’s foot!”

“Uh, yeah?” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?” you panicked. 

“No, what are you—”

“I’m calling Bobby,” you said, storming out of the apartment and back to the Impala. 

“Whoa, whoa, why? I’m not seeing how this is a bad thing, (Y/N),” Dean countered, catching up to you. 

“Because that’s a rabbit’s foot, Dean! A cursed object! Its literal function is to bring bad luck,” you explained.

“How?” Sam asked. 

“Once you touch it, you’re marked. Luck’s gonna be on your side.”

“Better buy some lottery tickets then,” Dean chuckled excitedly.

You glared at him. “But if you lose it, you’re fucked. It’ll keep bringing you bad luck till it eventually kills you.”

“Well, I just won’t lose it, then,” Sam tried. 

“Everybody loses it, Sam! That’s the whole point!”

The two boys looked slightly shaken; Sam more so than Dean. Dean was laughing all the way to the bank on this one, and he dragged you and Sam to a gas station to get lottery scratch-off tickets. Then, he drove you to a restaurant chain location called Biggerson’s for some dinner. 

You sat on the phone with Bobby, the two of you angrily muttering about the insanity of the situation to each other.

“Gotta say, kid,” Bobby started, “was hoping the next time I heard from ya, it’d be on happier terms than this.”

“Trust me, me too,” you sighed. “Do you know of anything that can stop this?”

“I’ll dig around—”

Bobby’s voice in your ear was cut off by Dean triumphantly exclaiming, “twelve-hundred dollars! You just won twelve-hundred dollars!”

You grimaced and put the phone back to your ear.

“I’m guessing Sam’s luck’s still good,” Bobby drawled.

“For now, but I don’t know for how much longer.” You got out of the car, suddenly feeling suffocated in the Impala. You paced around, as did Sam, and you watched as he walked over to something glistening under a newspaper on the ground. 

“I’ll figure somethin’ out. Lemme look through my library and make some calls,” Bobby said. “Call me if anything else goes to shit.”

You laughed, and Sam stood up holding a golden watch. He turned to Dean who stood next to you and mouthed something like, “Awesome,” to his brother.

“Will do,” you told the older man on the phone. “Hurry, Bobby.” You hung up as Dean calculated the winnings from the scratch-off tickets he made Sam fill out.

“Oh, man!” Dean grinned. “We’re up fifteen grand!”

You and Sam half-smiled, both feeling unsettled still.

Dean continued to laugh as he walked into the restaurant with you hot on his heels. 

“In case you forgot, Dean, we’re still technically fugitives,” you hissed. “If Sam’s luck goes to hell, we could be royally fucked.”

“Don't worry,” Dean said easily. “Bobby 'll find a way to break it. Until then I say we hit Vegas, pull a little Rain Man. Sam can be Rain Man.”

“Look, we just lay low until Bobby calls back, okay?” Sam whispered. He turned to the man behind the host stand. “Hi, uh, table for three, please.”

The man’s face broke out into a grin, and he hollered, “Congratulations!” An alarm began to sound through the restaurant.

“It's exciting, I know,” Dean quipped.

“You are the one millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family!” the man announced. 

The staff surrounding you began singing and taking photographs while they shoved a giant check into your hands. Balloons fell from the ceiling, and you and Sam would’ve rathered been anywhere else. Dean was ecstatic, though, which you were happy to see. You’d suffer tremendous embarrassment fifty times over just to see him smile. That thought scared you a little bit; how you'd do anything for him. You had a tendency to be an extremist.

You were escorted to your table, and a gorgeous waitress in what was clearly a black bob wig approached your table. 

Her coy smile was alluring, but something about her wasn’t sitting right with you. Still, nothing seemed off through the rest of the meal. Sam clacked away on his laptop rattling off bits of lore he was reading on rabbit’s foot Hoodoo magic while you and Dean shared a bowl of ice cream. 

“I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's,” Dean commented. 

The waitress came back over to your table with a pot of coffee and grinned at Sam. “Can I freshen you up?”

Sam nodded. “Thanks.”

The waitress poured, still smiling, and spilled some in her flirtatious stupor. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Let me mop up here. Sorry about that.” She hurriedly cleaned her mess and left the table, appearing to flirt with Sam over her shoulder even as she left.

“Dude. If you were ever gonna get lucky…” Dean trailed off.

Sam smirked. “Shut up.”

You smacked Dean’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”

Sam went to pick up his coffee, but he knocked the cup over and spilled it all over himself. Before you could process what was going on, he jumped out of his seat and into a waiter with a full tray. Things went flying through the air as Sam rushed profuse apologies. 

“Sam, check your pockets,” you said evenly. 

He did, and his hands came up empty.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled.

You and the brothers threw a wad of cash on the table and raced into the parking lot after the waitress. You noticed the black bob wig ditched on the ground a few feet from the door. “I knew it was a wig!”

“What?” Sam asked, turning around to you. He immediately tripped and fell flat on his face. 

“Wow! You suck!” Dean laughed, turning back to a groaning Sam.

“Ow,” the younger brother whined while you helped him up. His knees were bloody and raw through his ripped jeans.

“So what, now your luck turns bad?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, Dean, I believe I’ve said that,” you remarked, and he glared at you. 

“Well, how bad does it get, genius?” 

“Really bad. C’mon,” you urged. 

“Where we goin’?” Sam asked.

“Back to the two jackwads that got us into this mess,” you said, hopping in the driver’s seat. 

“Whoa, who said you could drive?” Dean questioned.

“Me. Don’t be a child,” you said. 

***

You broke into the apartment once again to find the brunet man sadly downing a bottle of tequila. 

“Oh, man. What do you want?” the man asked.

“Heard about your friend. That's bad luck,” Dean tsked, referring to the death of the redheaded thief. 

“Piss off,” the man spat.

“We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit's foot. A woman,” Dean continued.

“Oh yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because she just stole it back from us.”

The man laughed. 

Sam stepped forward. “Listen man, this is seri—” and then he fell to the floor mid-sentence, pulling a CD player and a shelf down on top of him. 

You turned back to help the younger brother up. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, smiling awkwardly in thanks for your help. 

“I want you to tell us her name,” the older Winchester continued to the man. 

“Fuck you,” was the only response he got.

“It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner,” you tried, coming out from behind the couch.

“What?”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you haven’t been thinkin’ it. I thought you’d be smarter than that,” you challenged. That seemed to get under the man’s skin, so you continued. “That series of unfortunate events that had to happen to kill your partner— like, had you not seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it— that was the rabbit’s foot. If you don’t help us stop this thing, those deaths are on you, my friend.”

The man in front of you looked worried. 

“And I gotta tell you, it doesn’t seem you’re cut out for the whole killin’ thing. You don’t wanna be a killer, do you?” you continued to press.

The man shook his head, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “No.”

***

You left the apartment repeating the woman’s last name over and over in your head. The man told you “Lugosi” was the only name he and his partner were given when they were hired. 

You took out your phone and called Bobby. 

“Hey, (Y/N), glad you called,” you heard the man say. 

“Hey, we got a situation here—”

“I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick,” Bobby continued. 

“That’s awesome, thank you, but uh…” you trailed off, trying to decide how to phrase your next words. You decided not to sugarcoat it in the end. “Sam lost the foot.”

“He what?!”

“I know, I know,” you sighed. You turned back around to see Sam and Dean trying to use a broken storm grate to get gum off the bottom of Sam’s shoe. You shook your head at their faces when they noticed you; seeming like two little kids caught with their hands in the candy bowl. You returned your focus to your phone call. “Listen, you know anybody by the name ‘Lugosi’? Maybe mid 20’s, super hot, my height—”

“Aw, crap. It’s probably Bela,” Bobby said. 

“ Bela Lugosi? That’s cute, but never heard of her,” you replied.

“Bela Talbot’s her real name,” the older man continued. “Crossed paths with her once or twice.”

“How the hell would she know John had the rabbit’s foot? She a hunter?” you questioned.

“Pretty fuckin’ far from a Hunter, but she knows her way around the territory. She's been out of the country,” Bobby explained. “Last I heard, she was in the Middle East someplace.”

“Well, she’s back!” you mock-cheered, exasperated.

“Which means seriously bad luck for you,” the older man added.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” you quipped.

“Well, kid, if it is Bela, at least I might know some folks who know where to find her,” he finished. 

“Thanks, Bobby. For everything.”

“Just… look out for those two idjits.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

You sighed and turned back around to see Dean reaching through the storm drain and Sam looking dejected. 

“What happened?” you asked.

“I lost my shoe,” the brunet replied sadly. 

Your eyebrows furrowed sympathetically, and Sam’s head hung low. Dean seemed annoyed and huffed, standing up from the floor. 

“C’mon,” the older brother asserted.

***

Bobby did actually have a pretty good lead on Bela; she apparently lived in Queens about two hours away. 

“So what are we doing here?” Sam questioned, referencing the motel you’d just gotten a room at. 

“You, my brother, are staying here 'cause I don't want your bad luck getting us killed,” Dean stated. “And (Y/N), you’re staying with him.”

“What?! Why?” you protested. 

“Because Sam actually listens to you when you tell him not to do something. And you’re way more responsible than me,” Dean shrugged simply.

“Fair point,” you sighed. “Knowing you, you’ll touch the stupid rabbit’s foot, though.”

“Pfft, c’mon, it’s me we’re talking about—”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” you dryly stated.

Dean glared at you playfully as he walked Sam into a motel room. You followed close behind and peeked out the door to make sure you weren’t followed. 

“What am I even supposed to do, Dean?” Sam whined.

“Nothing! Nothing. Come here. I don't want you doing anything. I want you to sit right here—” the older brother pulled a chair into the middle of the room— “and don't move, okay? Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your nose.” Dean turned to you. “If I’m not back by midnight, take off.”

“What, you gonna turn into a pumpkin or something?” you snickered.

“(Y/N), I’m serious.”

“Since when?”

“(Y/N)—”

“Okay, okay, fine, I heard you.”

Dean smirked down at you and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back,” he said.

You watched him leave, a bit of your heart tugging at being anywhere without him. Your feelings for him were certainly growing stronger, and it frightened you how constantly you needed to be near him. 

You turned back to see Sam wrinkle his nose a few times before finally risking a scratch at it. 

“Hey! None of that,” you said. 

Sam’s sad eyes turned to yours. “This fuckin’ sucks, man,” he sighed.

“I know it does. Kinda the whole point of the rabbit’s foot curse,” you commented.

He ignored your smart remark.

“Found anything on how to break Dean’s deal?” you asked.

Sam shook his head. “No. Did find out something interesting, though.”

“What?’ you asked.

“All my mom’s old contacts? All her old friends, the nurse who delivered me— they’re all dead,” he explained.

“What?!” you shrieked. “And you didn’t think to mention this before now?!”

“Shh, keep your voice down,” Sam said. “Didn’t wanna say anything in front of Dean; he’d go berserk.”

“You know I have to tell him, right?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, no! Please don’t,” he begged. “Please. You know he’d flip. And, uh, probably more because of the way I got that information than the information itself.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ruby told me.”

“Oh, god.” You rolled your eyes and dropped your head back. 

“C’mon, (Y/N), I mean, I called, and it all checks out. It’s got something to do with me and the demon; I know you recognize that pattern,” Sam tried.

“I do, but I don’t like being constantly stuck in the middle of you and Dean,” you said. “I’m supposed to be Switzerland, remember?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean Switzerland didn’t have information on the two sides, she just didn’t pick one,” he shrugged.

“Sam,” you warned, “You know how I feel about keeping things from Dean.”

“I know, I know, but you wouldn’t necessarily be keeping it from him, you’d be…” he trailed off, trying to think of a way to phrase his next words, “fulfilling a promise to me.”

“But I didn’t promise anything,” you argued.

“Please promise me you won’t tell Dean. Not till I’m ready,” Sam begged.

“Sam!”

“(Y/N/N), c’mon. Please, man. Please.”

You stared at Sam for a prolonged moment; you stared intensely and Sam looked up at you with puppy-dog eyes from his chair. You sighed and dropped your head forward. “Fine. But you are gonna promise me that you’ll tell Dean eventually. That’s my one condition.”

Sam nodded. “Deal.”

You shook your head and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Sam’s chair. “You Winchesters and your secrets.”

“Oh, like you don’t have any,” Sam deadpanned.

You looked up at the television and saw the reflection of your guard uniform and scratched-up face staring back at you. You took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. “Touché.” You paused for a moment. “Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What are you gonna do when—” you cut yourself off, tears beginning to well in your throat. You took a deep breath to push them down. “When Dean’s gone?” 

Sam shook his head. “(Y/N), no. He’s not gonna—”

“Sam,” you said. “We are trying everything we can. We’re two months into this thing and no closer to saving him than we were on day one. I stopped looking. Not ‘cause I don’t care anymore, but because I’m not gonna send you to Hell just so Dean can live. I mean, Bobby’s been lookin’, too! And he hasn’t found a damn thing. So I just think we have to be real with ourselves.”

Sam shook his head, tears in his eyes.

“I don’t wanna lose him,” you said, putting your hand on Sam’s knee to make him look at you and beginning to cry, too. “I don’t. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But… I’m scared, man. When I lost my family…” you closed your eyes at the memory of some of the awful things you’d done and would never forgive yourself for, “I don’t wanna do that again. And… And I just think that if we kept huntin’ together, we could keep tabs on each other. Make sure the other doesn’t go rogue, y’know?”

“I can’t believe you’re just gonna give up on him like that,” Sam spat, disappointed. 

“I’m not!” you argued. “But I’m not gonna help you kill yourself, dammit! Dean would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself!”

“Look, we’ve got ten months left. We’ll find something,” Sam continued. 

“I hope you’re right, man. I really do,” you said.  

Neither of you said anything for the next few hours.

During that time, you took out your journal and wrote. You didn’t usually keep journals when you were done with them as your duffel bag would be filled to the brim with them by now, but you were definitely going to keep this one; especially after Dean was gone. 

It was somewhat poetic that the first day you met the boys was the first time you’d written in this particular journal. Its pages were filled with your, at first, disdainful musings about the older Winchester brother and slowly but surely became your attempts at discerning your feelings for him.

You liked to buy quite thick and large journals to have enough room for your drawings and to be able to continue writing in them for months and occasionally years. This was the longest you’d been able to stretch one, though, and you were a little over three-fourths through writing in it. 

“I can’t help but wonder what comes next after all this,” you wrote, the pen gliding easily against the page in time with your racing thoughts. “I’ve always been awful about ‘futurecasting’ as Dad called it, but it’s even worse now. Every second I’m with Dean, I can’t help but think about how this is all gonna be over in less than a year. And it’s awful. I wanna be present with him. I just can’t. I don’t want there to be an end to us. I don’t even know if we are anything! He can’t even tell me he loves me.

“And I get it to some extent. ‘I love you’s are hard for him. Fine. I just wish he’d figure out some way to communicate with me that isn’t sex. I mean, the sex is great, but. I don’t know. And just after everything that happened, I’m not feeling great about having sex anyway. And I know it’s upsetting him, even if he won’t say anything; he’d never pressure me, and I know that. And I’m getting better about sex and related things. But it just sucks.

“And I don’t wanna bring any of this up with him and start fights because, as I’m painfully aware, that deadline is getting closer and closer every day. I just want him to be happy with me while he still can be.”

You dropped your pen when the air conditioning unit next to you began to smoke. 

“Oh come on, I- I didn't- I wasn't—” Sam whined.

“Just stay put,” you said. You jerked back in surprise when the unit suddenly caught fire. You grabbed the comforter from the bed next to you and began to put the fire out with it. Thankfully, the fire stopped. 

“I’m gonna see if I can get someone to fix that for us before your luck kills us both with carbon monoxide poisoning,” you said, starting toward the door. 

Suddenly, the door to the motel room burst open. However, it wasn’t Dean who opened it. It was two men. You drew your gun and cocked it, trained on the two men. “Get the fuck out,” you ordered. 

“I don’t think so,” said the older-looking man. He almost reminded you of Willem Dafoe, and you mentally pegged that as his name. The other man with a bizarre-looking mustache charged you, and you fired. Somehow, the bullet missed its target despite him being in such close range. 

“What the hell, Sam?!” you exclaimed. “Your luck’s rubbin’ off on me!”

“Sorry!” he winced.

The man charging you tried to restrain you in a headlock, but you kicked him squarely between the legs. You jutted your elbow back into his nose simultaneously, and the man dropped you. 

Unfortunately for you, though, Sam had been trying to help you by taking on Willem Dafoe. You turned around to see Sam unable to land a punch on the other man’s face. You tried to help him, but Sam ended up punching you across the face, and you were knocked out cold.

***

When you woke up, your arms were bound behind your back, and your legs were taped together as well. The men had laid you on your stomach, and you immediately began to struggle and panic, feeling your current position was too similar to the one you’d been in with the guard. 

“Dean! Help me!” you wailed without thinking. Your body was in autopilot as you struggled, and you couldn’t even focus on the men in the room. 

“Quit whinin’,” the man with the mustache told you. 

You could barely hear him over the roaring in your ears. “Dean!”

“I said shut up!” the man in front of you roared, slapping you across the face.

You couldn’t, though, continuing to flail like a fish out of water.

“Creedy,” the other man said, turning away from Sam and to his accomplice, “shut her up, please.”

“With pleasure.” The man took a rag out of his shirt and shoved it in your mouth, your muffled cries coming out around it. 

You vaguely heard Willem Dafoe beating the crap out of Sam while he talked about his mission from “god” to kill Sam. Then, the man drew his gun. His partner was unsettled, too, as you strained harder to get out of your binds. 

Suddenly, your saving grace appeared in the doorway. “Dean!” you cried through the gag in your mouth. 

Willem Dafoe turned around and aimed the gun point-blank at Sam’s forehead. 

“Nope. No destiny,” Dean said coolly referring to the man’s earlier comment about god and destiny leading them to Sam. “Just a rabbit's foot.”

“Put the gun down, son, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall,” the man replied, his tone ice cold.

Dean waved his Taurus around. “Oh, this thing?”

“Yeah, that thing,” look-alike-Dafoe responded. 

“Okay.” Dean put his gun down on the nightstand beside him, looking smug. “But you see, there's something about me that you don't know.” Dean smoothly picked up a pen off the nightstand beside the gun. 

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“It’s my lucky day,” Dean grinned. He tossed the pen toward Willem Dafoe, and it lodged in the barrel of the gun. ““Oh my God, did you see that shot?!” 

Forgetting all about your current situation, you started yelling through the gag, “You fucking touched it? You fucking idiot!” But all that came out was a muffled garbling of words. 

The man named Creedy lunged at Dean, but missed his punch completely. The man ended up running straight into the wall, and Dafoe was busying himself trying to dislodge the pen from the barrel of his gun. 

“I'm amazing,” Dean said smugly. He picked up the television remote and threw it hard at Dafoe. It hit the man square between the eyes, knocking him out cold. 

“I’m Batman,” you heard Dean suavely state, but you were too busy returning your focus to getting your binds undone. Now that the immediate danger was over, your body went back into panic mode. You yelped when you suddenly felt a hand on your back and fought even harder. 

“Hey, hey!” Dean coaxed. “It’s just me.” He saw you weren’t listening, and he immediately set to work cutting the duct tape binding your legs and wrists. Your hands shakily yanked out the rag in your mouth. Only then did you realize Dean was the one in front of you, and you leapt into his arms. 

He caught you easily, one hand around the underside of your back and the other around the topside your legs. You curled up into him and buried your face in his neck. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” Dean tried, but your shaking wouldn’t stop. You could feel your sobs slowly subside, but it took quite a while of Dean holding you for you to regain your composure. He pressed kisses into the side of your hair while he held you and tried to soothe you by telling you you were safe. 

You finally uncurled your legs from around Dean and let him put you down. 

Sam came up behind you to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You okay?” he asked. 

You nodded as you sniffled. 

“What happened?” Sam asked in that very unique-to-him soft voice. 

“I dunno,” you lied. 

Dean gave you a look that let you know he’d be asking more questions later. 

“C’mon, we gotta get the hell outta here,” you said, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You could feel the boys giving you questioning looks as you gathered up yours and the boys’ things and stalked out to the car. 

*** “Alright,” Sam began, sprinkling cayenne pepper into the embers of a small fire you and the Winchesters had started in the middle of a cemetery. “Bone ash, cayenne pepper, that should do it.”

“One second…” Dean said absentmindedly, scratching off the last of his lottery tickets. 

“Dean—” Sam complained. 

“Hey, back off, Jinx. I’m bringing home the bacon,” Dean quipped. He stashed the cards in his jacket that he’d slung over a gravestone. “Alright, say goodbye, wascally wabbit.” He dangled the rabbit’s foot over the top of the fire. 

“Hey!” you shouted, whipping out your gun at the sound of a twig cracking. You aimed it at the sound, and Bela emerged from the darkness with hers drawn as well. 

“I think you'll find that belongs to me,” she said firmly. “Or, you know, whatever. Put the foot down, honey.”

“Oh, hell no,” you said, cocking your gun. 

Bela cut her eyes at you, shooting Sam in the shoulder.

You exclaimed, “What the—!” and Dean cursed, “Son of a—” as Sam collapsed to the ground. 

“Back off, tiger,” Bela told you. “Back off! You make one more move, and I’ll pull the trigger. You’ve got the luck, Dean. You, I can’t hit. But your brother? Him, I can’t miss.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” the older brother roared. “You don't just go around shooting people like that!”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Relax. It's a shoulder hit; I can aim. Besides, who here hasn't shot a few people? Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now.”

“Alright!” Dean mollified. “Alright. Take it easy.” He moved to drop the rabbit’s foot, but instead, he threw it at Bela. “Think fast,” he smirked. 

Bela caught the foot and immediately realized what she’d done. “Damn!”

“Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?” Dean smiled in satisfaction. 

Bela sighed, aggravated. She dropped her arm and uncocked her gun, but you kept yours aimed at her as she moved over to the fire. 

“Would you stop pointing that at me?” her smooth voice came without looking at you. 

“Sorry, love. Don’t trust you,” you smiled in fake-politeness. 

She rolled her eyes and moved back to the fire. She dropped the foot into the fire. “Thanks very much,” Bela continued. “I'm out one and a half million, and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer.” 

“Wow. I really don't feel bad about that. Sam?” Dean turned to his brother.

“Nope. Not even a little.”

Bela’s gaze hardened. “Hmm. Maybe next time, I'll hang you out to dry.” She turned around and moved toward the gravestone where Dean’s jacket laid. You knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Have a nice night, girls,” Bela smirked. 

You glared at her. “Uh, uh! Turn around!” you ordered. 

“What?” she sighed, clearly annoyed. 

“Gimme the tickets,” you commanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. 

“Yeah, you do. You can’t con me, angel.”

She grumbled angrily but took the stolen tickets out of her pocket and threw them to the ground. 

“Thanks a million,” you called after her. 

“You’re fuckin’ awesome, woman,” Dean admired, you assumed in reference to the tickets you noticed Bela stole. He came over to you and kissed you boldly. You giggled against his lips, and he held your waist firmly. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Hey! Bleeding out, here!” 

You broke away from Dean. “Oh, sorry!” you grimaced, moving to head back to the Impala. “C’mon, I’ll get you patched up.”

When you ensured the rabbit’s foot was burnt to a crisp, you and the Winchesters moved to the car. 

“You good?” Dean asked his brother. 

“I’ll live,” he responded. 

“I guess we're back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck. And we're up forty-six thousand.” Dean threw his arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, waving the tickets around in the air. 

“Maybe we should hit Vegas, see how good our luck still is,” you suggested, smiling lopsidedly. 

“I like the way you think,” Dean nodded. “Whaddaya say, Sammy?”

“I think you guys are gonna end up blowing all our money on slot machines,” the younger brother dryly commented. 

“Ye of little faith,” you said. “If not Vegas, we can at least get ourselves a nicer motel room. Maybe we can graduate to hotels!”

“Ooh, yeah. One of those hotels with a jacuzzi tub.”

“Hell yeah—”

“Guys,” Sam groaned. “Still bleeding out, here.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 79

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Wednesday, April 13; 1:30 PM - Batlle House

The sun is shining. The weather has been wonderfully beautiful since we arrived here. It's pleasant. My only regret is that half of our time here has already passed. We've made the most of it, especially with hiking. I've never walked so much in just a few days. Lucy loves it, and I must admit, I’ve started to enjoy it too. From where we are, we have a lot of nature around, so I show her everything we can see.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Lucy asks me after putting the last plate in the dishwasher.

We just finished eating. I sent my grandfather to take his nap. He never wants to admit it, but he gives more than he should. He doesn't seem to understand that he's getting old. I'm glad we're here. We've been able to help him with a lot of things.

“Well, I was thinking you could take care of the car this afternoon.”

“Are you sure? You might get really bored.”

“Oh no. I'll play assistant, and I wouldn’t miss a chance to watch you,” I giggle.

She smiles, nodding her head. She kept her promise to my grandfather by checking under the hood on the first day. According to her, some sensors needed to be replaced if he wanted the car to last. Of course, my grandfather agreed and gave us money to get the parts that same day. However, the parts had to be ordered, and they arrived this morning, so we might as well take care of it right away.

“OK, let’s do that then.”

“And maybe after that, we can…”

She turns her head while washing her hands. I swallow hard.

“I think I’m ready.”

She smiles at my words. She turns fully after grabbing a towel to dry her hands.

“OK. We’ll go see him afterward. And if you want, we can spend the evening at the beach again tonight. The full moon will be at its peak, so we shouldn't miss that, right?”

I smile back and go to embrace her. Yes, it was time for me to go see him. Lucy kisses my forehead. She understood well that I wasn’t the most comfortable at first, but now that we’ve spent some days here, I feel more at ease. Her presence has been really reassuring.

“Well, I’m going to find some clothes before we head out,” she announces, kissing my forehead.

“Can I come with you?”

“Yes, of course.”

We head upstairs to my room. I sit on the bed while Lucy rummages through her things. I watch her intently as she changes in front of me. That tease has been toying with me for days. We kiss a lot before sleeping, or to put it another way, we heat things up, only for nothing to happen. I must admit, this little game is starting to get very frustrating. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted someone this much.

“Everything alright, babe?” she teases gently.

“No. You’re such a tease.”

“Oh, really? A tease?” she giggles.

“Yes.”

“And you’re the one saying that?”

“What do you mean by that?”

She narrows her eyes playfully as she approaches me. I lean back on my elbows as she hovers over me.

“I mean it’s harder for me to hold back than you think.”

I give in to her lips when she kisses me. The moment is short-lived as she pulls away. I groan in frustration.

“Babe!”

“Stop complaining,” she laughs. “We’ve got things to do today. Plus, your grandfather is sleeping in the next room.”

“All the more reason to—”

“Do nothing,” she finishes my sentence. “I’m heading down. Do what you want until then.”

She leaves first, and of course, I follow with a sulky look. She’s opened the car hood in the driveway to start the repairs while I watch, sitting on the grass. Buzz is with us. He’s been following us everywhere. Lucy loved bringing him along on our hikes.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“Were you serious about the idea of getting a dog?”

“Well yes, why? We both seem to love them.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“Oh, you’re not mad about that, are you? They say a dog is man’s best friend.”

“And do you believe that?”

“Well, yeah. I grew up with a dog, so obviously.”

“Really? What was his name?”

“Hercules.”

“Hercules?” I chuckle.

“Hey, don’t mock it. He was very loyal.”

“No, but Hercules, really?”

I burst out laughing, lying on the ground.

“Are you done?” Lucy scolds me.

Her serious demeanor can’t last when she sees me laughing. A smile stretches across her lips, and she drops the parts she was holding. She wipes her hands on a rag. My girlfriend is such a badass. Why do I feel like she doesn’t even realize it?

“Really, it’s not cool. I loved him.”

“Sorry, I just didn’t expect that. Seriously, Hercules... But it’s cute in its own way.”

“Right,” she laughs. “Don’t make fun of me.”

I smile like an idiot. I feel so happy. It’s strange being away from school, but at the same time, I love this life—just being us. I calm down when I see she’s no longer paying attention to me. She leans back against the car just as a voice calls out.

“Ona...?”

I frown. I sit up before turning around. I hesitate for a moment before recognizing the person in front of me, who seems to have recognized me right away.

“Hey,” I greet awkwardly.

“Ona Batlle. I can’t believe it! I never thought I’d see you again.”

I awkwardly get up to greet Nick, my childhood friend. We must have been so small when we met. We literally grew up together before I moved away.

“Hey!”

I giggle as he lifts me up when I thought we were just going to exchange a hug. We look each other up and down. After all, the last time we saw each other, we must have been twelve. Our parents divorced at the same time, and he left to live with his mother, just like I did. He’s grown. He’s even taller than me now, and let’s just say he’s become very handsome. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s an athlete now. He loved football back then. I recognize his short brown hair and his green eyes.

“Wow,” he laughs. “I can’t believe you’re here. And… seeing you like this… you’ve become a beautiful woman. It’s incredible.”

I laugh nervously at his admiration, playfully hitting his shoulder. It’s a bit awkward. We always had a strong bond between us. We went through some of the same struggles. I always loved being adventurous with him. A throat clearing brings me back to reality. We turn to my girlfriend, who’s watching us with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, uh. Nick, this is Lucy, my girlfriend. Lucy, this is Nick, a childhood friend.”

He seems taken aback, but his surprise quickly turns into a smile.

“Girlfriend, huh?” he repeats. “A lot has changed, I see... But honestly, I’m not even surprised.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean? Why does everyone keep saying that?”

He laughs heartily, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh come on, you were quite the tomboy back then. You hated hanging out with girls your age. You were always tagging along with me and my group of friends.”

“I wasn’t tagging along! You’re the one who always took me with you!” I reply quickly with a little laugh.

I calm down as I feel Lucy’s arms wrap around me. I lean into her, smiling at Nick.

“What are you doing here? I thought you moved away with your mom?”

“Yeah… That was before she passed away from cancer.”

“Nick...”

“No, don’t say anything,” he smiles sadly. “It must be just as hard as losing your father... your grandfather told me everything when I got back.”

I nod. Unlike me, Nick got to leave with the right parent. He was happy to be able to leave the family home.

- When did you come back?

- Two years ago. It was strange at first. I had to find my footing again, and you weren’t there…

We look at each other for a few seconds, and he seems uncomfortable. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say at the moment.

- But anyway, everything's fine now. I’m an athlete at university, I have a girlfriend, and I try to stay busy when I’m not doing anything. Did you know your grandfather can’t be stopped once you start helping him? I’d be careful if I were you, he warns my girlfriend, who giggles.

- Thanks for the warning.

- And you? Are you staying long?

- No, just this week, actually.

- That’s all? So, what about you? Here I am talking about myself, and I haven’t even let you speak. I already know you’ve managed to snag a beautiful woman, so that’s something. Do you live together?

I glance at Lucy, who looks much more relaxed than before. I smile and run my fingers across her cheek when I notice a black smudge.

- Sort of, yeah. In Manchester.

- Manchester? he laughs. Seriously? I thought you hated the cold?

- She still does.

- Stop, you’re exaggerating, I giggle. I’ve gotten used to it.

- And what about your mom?

- She still lives in Barcelona, with Marcus and Joan, my little brother. And she’s getting married next month.

- Wow, all that. I didn’t expect so much. A wedding? And a little brother, really?

- Yeah, well, half-brother technically. He’s going to turn seven.

- Wow. It’s been years. Almost as long as we haven’t spoken.

- Almost, yeah…

We exchange a small smile. I know it’s strange for both of us. Honestly, Nick is someone special to me. He holds my first kiss, which we shared when we each moved away. We were close, undeniably, and it feels a bit strange seeing him again now. Lucy takes the opportunity to slip her arm around my shoulders. I suppress a smile. I know she can’t help herself—it’s crazy. She’s really jealous of anyone.

- Are you still here this weekend? It’s just, I’m throwing a party on Friday night, you know, and I’d love for you to come.

- Uh... I would’ve loved to—

- Oh no, not that line again, he replies, rolling his eyes. Some things never change, it seems.

I laugh, nodding.

- Sorry. We won’t be able to make it.

- When are you leaving?

- Saturday afternoon. We’re heading to Porto to see Lucy’s parents.

- Oh, so you’re Portuguese too? And seeing your parents? Your relationship seems solid.

- It is, I say with a small smile.

- I’m happy for you.

- And you, with your girlfriend?

- It’s not as serious. I mean, it’s been a year now, but we’re not thinking about moving in together or anything like that. We’re taking our time.

- I see. Still commitment issues, huh?

- A bit, yeah. Looks like you’ve managed to get over that, he says, gesturing toward us.

- Let’s just say... you have to find the right person.

- Yeah, he chuckles. I’ll try to remember that. So... we won’t see each other this weekend?

- No, I’m sorry, I say with a small smile.

- A lot has changed, huh?

I nod softly. I can tell he’s changed too. He’s no longer the carefree kid I used to get into trouble with.

- Yeah. It was really great to see you again, though.

- Me too. Maybe we could... I don’t know, exchange numbers? I mean, if Lucy doesn’t mind. It’s just, I think it would be nice to talk to someone who understands me from time to time.

- I don’t mind, she says. It’s not like she can cheat on me between two country.

I smile and accept the kiss Lucy gives me before she lets go. She understands he’s not a threat. At least, I hope so. She goes back to what she was doing while I exchange numbers with Nick.

- Well... I hope it won’t be another eight years before we see each other again.

- We’ll try to avoid that, I say with a small smile. See you soon, and take care of yourself.

- Yeah... You too.

We share one last hug before I sit back down on the grass. Buzz immediately settles between my legs. He hovered around Nick a lot. He must be familiar to him. Still, my grandfather never mentioned him to me. It’s strange.

- So... Nick, huh? Lucy begins. How many more of those do you have up your sleeve?

- What? I giggle.

- I thought it was just Mapi and Feli before me.

I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off.

- Careful what you say, baby. You know you’re a terrible liar, and I’m no fool. Do you really want me to lose trust in you over this?

I close my mouth. I hate it when she catches me off guard like that. She turns away, arms crossed. OK, so she’s really serious. I was about to tell a little lie, but I didn’t think it would matter this much.

- Nick was like... I don’t know... my big brother...?

She raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t look convinced. OK... She knows there’s more. And honestly, who wouldn’t? I know there’s a kind of connection with him. We went through a lot together, like our parents’ fights. There was even one day when we ran away... Well, we hid out at my grandparents’ store and went home that night because we were hungry, but still, it was with him. We have memories together, like no one else.

- He was my first kiss...

- First kiss, huh...

My honesty earns a big sigh. I quickly try to recover.

- Don’t make a big deal out of it, please. It wasn’t that great, if you want to know the truth.

- Of course, she says dramatically. You expect me to believe that, given the man he’s become?

She turns back to her tasks, grumpy. I love her jealousy so much. I get up, forcing Buzz to move from his comfy spot between my legs. I apologize with a gentle pat on his head before moving toward my girlfriend. I wrap my arms around her body, which tenses at the contact.

- Come on, baby... Don’t sulk over this. I swear you kiss way better than he does, better than anyone, actually. At least you don’t have acne or braces.

My remark earns a small amused sigh. That’s already a good reaction. I kiss her exposed neck, which makes her straighten up.

- Sorry... she begins, turning around. It’s just that...

She avoids my gaze. I don’t like seeing her so... fragile. I run my hand through her hair.

- I don’t like it.

- You don’t like what? That there were people before you?

- No, she sighs, running her hand through her hair. I know there were others, that’s normal. I don’t know. I just feel vulnerable when you see people who meant something to you. It’s like I feel... like I’m nothing.

- Wow, I chuckle. Are you out of your mind?

I gently make her lift her head. She really does seem vulnerable right now.

- Don’t think that, baby. You’re my everything. How can you even think otherwise?

She sighs, shrugging.

- Will you... will you always love me, even after you really know who I am?

I raise an eyebrow. She seems so worried.

- What do you mean?

- I mean, the girl who left Portugal isn’t the one you see standing in front of you. Well... she is, but not entirely. I’m sure my parents are going to remind you of the clichés I used to be.

Oooh... So, she’s worried about going home. I smile at the realization. It’s really too cute. I thought I was the only one feeling this way, but she hides it well.

- What exactly are you hiding from me?

- We all have a past, Ona...

2

- Hey, are you done? I’m not the kind of person who’s going to push you away for some random reason, OK? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Is this what you’re always scared of when you get in your moods?

She stays silent for a moment before relaxing.

- Yeah, a bit. I feel like I don’t deserve you. Like my old self doesn’t deserve you.

- Don’t talk down about yourself like that. You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, and I mean it. I don’t care who you used to be. The only one that matters is the person standing in front of me right now.

She takes a deep breath and nods. I gently stroke her cheek and kiss her tenderly, pressing a bit harder to show her all my passion. I can’t help but smile when she reacts with a soft moan. Naturally, she flips me over to take control.

- You really can’t stand it when I’m in charge, can you? I tease with a laugh.

- Not particularly, she whispers.

- Is that also because of your past? I tease her again.

Instead of answering, she kisses me roughly once more. For some reason, I have a feeling I hit the nail on the head. But I don’t say anything, letting her take the lead. It feels too good to interrupt.

- So, Nick...

I burst into laughter, wrapping my arms around her neck. She’s unbelievable, seriously.

- I was 10, Luce. He didn’t even matter, not even a little.

- Like a big brother, she murmurs.

- Yes, exactly. Like a big brother, I confirm with a small smile.

- Why did you turn down the party? We both know we could’ve gone.

- Why? Well, simply because I want to spend as much time as possible with my girlfriend, you see. That’s why we’re here, after all.

- OK, she whispers. Fine, I’m going to finish fixing up this old bike, and then we can go for a walk in town.

- Hallelujah!

Wednesday, April 13th; 6:00 PM - Cemetery

Here we are. I’m scared. The moment I’ve been dreading is finally happening. I even feel myself trembling in Lucy’s steady hand. I delayed this as much as possible, dragging us all over town this afternoon. But it’s time to go now.

- Do you want me to wait here? Lucy offers.

- No. I need you with me.

- Alright, she whispers.

I don’t move. I’m taking my time to gather the courage. I appreciate Lucy’s patience too. It takes a good ten minutes before I finally lead us inside. I’ve only been here once, but I could find his grave with my eyes closed. Row eleven, grave six. The path is short. We’re there before I’ve even had time to mentally prepare. We stand in silence, but Lucy’s presence reassures me. I’m surprised to see his grave so well-kept. There are even flowers on it. Maybe Grandpa... or Leila. I asked him about her, and he said she still visits town from time to time. I haven’t had the courage to reach out to her. Too many memories would resurface. Yet, I have so many questions for her. Lost in these thoughts, I bend down to place my white rose. Lucy waits a moment before doing the same. She insisted on getting one too, right after we did the shopping for tonight. She didn’t know him, but her gesture touches me deeply. I wait for her to stand back up before nestling into her arms. I take a deep breath as Lucy rubs my back. Her presence is vital to me. It’s hard being here, facing his photo, knowing he’s really six feet under. It’s different from mourning him in Miami. This feels real.

- He would’ve been proud of you, you know?

- I hope so, I murmur. He would’ve adored you.

- Really?

I smile softly. I’m glad I brought her here. She’s trying to take my mind off things, and it’s working.

- Yeah... He accepted everyone in my life as long as they made me happy.

She nods in understanding.

- Did he know about...

- My sexuality? Yeah. For some reason, he figured it out right away. Well... I did talk a lot about Mapi with a dreamy smile on my face.

- And... how did it go?

- I didn’t even have to tell him. We were at the dinner table one night when I came back here. After I rambled on about the things Mapi and I had done, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Sweetie, is she your girlfriend? Because, you know, I wouldn’t mind if she is.”

I mimic his line, making Lucy laugh. I smile too. I really have nothing to complain about in that area. He accepted me, completely. All he cared about was that I was happy. The only thing that truly mattered to him was that I remembered the importance of family and loved ones. I get that now. That’s why he left me so many promises to keep—like with Mom and Joan...

- He was the only man I knew with such a big heart. So yes... he would’ve adored you, especially knowing how you saved me.

- I think it would’ve been mutual, she whispers.

We stay like that for a while. Normally, I would’ve poured out my heart, but with Lucy here, I don’t. We just enjoy the quiet. Eventually, the night starts to fall, signaling we’ve been here for at least an hour. Lucy really has extraordinary patience.

- Let’s go, I murmur.

- Are you sure? We can stay longer.

- No, it’s alright, I assure you. Thank you for coming with me.

- OK... she breathes. Let’s go then.

I’ll probably come back on my own another time. Lucy loves her morning walks on the beach, so I’ll take advantage of that. Hand in hand, we head back home. We set up a little camp on the beach earlier. We wanted to prepare for tonight with a campfire. We bought barbecue supplies and even marshmallows. It’s shaping up to be a great evening. As we arrive, Buzz runs up to greet us. Lucy says she’ll handle the fire while I gather some blankets. It’s getting chilly, and the last thing we need is to catch a cold...

5

- "Oh no. I'll leave you two alone tonight," my grandfather declines. "The neighbor invited me to dinner anyway."  

- "Really? Nick's dad?" I asked. "I saw him this afternoon, by the way. Why didn’t you tell me he was back?"  

- "Oh, I didn’t want to worry you with that. Did he tell you about his mother?"  

- "Yes," I sighed. "How are things between him and his father?"  

In fact, I had thought a lot about it this afternoon. His father was an alcoholic, which was the main reason his mother filed for divorce. Since he kept the house, I knew he’d gotten sober and even remarried, but I doubt his forced return brought any joy, knowing Nick.  

- "Nick is a good boy," he replied. "He’s struggling with the situation, but he channels his anger in a positive way. He’s rarely home. Actually, he often comes here to help me fix a few things. Or he takes Buzz for a walk."  

- "Yeah, he told me."  

I chuckled, remembering what he had added. Honestly, I think he’s happy to spend time here. It’s like a kind of refuge. I also understand why Buzz loves him so much too.  

- "Will he be with you tonight?" I asked.  

- "No. I think he’s going to his girlfriend’s."  

- "Okay..." I murmured. "Too bad."  

I would have invited him with us if I had known. I think Lucy wouldn’t have minded.  

- "Well, I’m heading out then. Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?"  

- "Oh, no no. I really meant it when I said you two should enjoy yourselves together."  

- "You’re not a bother if that’s what worries you."  

- "Ona, sweetheart. It’s fine, I promise. Look, I’ve already got the wine to bring to the neighbor’s."  

- "Okay, I won’t insist anymore. You know where to find us if you need anything."  

- "Yes, yes," he laughed.  

I left to join my girlfriend and... Buzz. That dog has completely forgotten about me in favor of my girlfriend. He adores her. Well, she does take him running every morning. He must feel alive again in just a week. Though, not as much after what I just learned.  

- "He didn’t want to come?" my girlfriend asked when she saw me alone.  

- "No. Mister got himself invited by the neighbor," I joked.  

- "Oh. Well, that’s good. At least now you know he still has a social life."  

- "True... when you put it like that," I giggled.  

I spread a blanket on the ground. Lucy set up some kind of tent, or something you could call one. It’s more like a tarp, really, but it’s pretty cool. It shields us from the wind later at night. I smiled as she was already turning sausages over the fire. It’s simply perfect. Plus, the sun was finally setting, giving us a stunning sunset. I really feel like I’m on vacation.  

- "I brought you a sweater if you want," I told her, showing the clothing in my hand.  

- "Thanks."  

She quickly slipped it on over her t-shirt. I didn’t want to grab anything more, even though she was in shorts and flip-flops. She admitted to me that she loved feeling the sand under her feet. As for me, I stole one of her sweatshirts and a pair of bermuda shorts. They’re a bit big, but I feel so comfortable in her clothes. They smell so much like her, it’s delightful.  

- "Come sit," I said, patting the spot next to me after sitting down myself.  

- "Two minutes. Let me finish here first. Hey, check the cooler and get us something to drink."  

I smiled and nodded. To be honest, we bought a bottle of champagne. Who knows why. In any case, I happily popped the cork and poured us two glasses. Meanwhile, Lucy had prepared two plates for us. The evening went on. We talked, we laughed, never losing sight of the waves and the setting sun in front of us. Our legs constantly touched. We rubbed, we caressed each other, until the blanket ended up over our shoulders after we got rid of the plates and empty glasses. If time could stop, I would let it.  

- "Do you... do you think you know everything Feli did to me?"  

My question broke the peaceful silence. I was completely slumped on Lucy, who was supporting both our weights. She didn’t answer right away. The truth is, I need to know. Mapi was right in a way. I can’t hide it from her forever.  

- "I think so, yes," she murmured.  

I turned around at her words to straddle her. I needed to look into her eyes if I was going to tell her. Her hands instinctively rested on my thighs. It’s been a long time since I’ve pulled away from her touch, and it feels good. I feel like I’m coming back to life, able to accept any kind of contact.  

- "You don’t have to tell me, Ona... I’ve understood. You wouldn’t have been so broken otherwise."  

I nodded as a few tears welled up in my eyes. I had never dared to say it out loud. Saying it would mean acknowledging it. Yet here, with her, I just feel at peace.  

- "I-I want her to pay. F-for her violence, her acts, and those r-rapes too. Y-you’re absolutely right. S-she doesn’t deserve to get away with it."  

Lucy nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. With her other hand, she stroked my back, sending shivers down my spine. But my decision was made. I want to take her to court. I’m ready to do it now. I know it’s the last thing I need to do to close this chapter of my life.  

- "It’s going to be hard, you know that, right?"  

I nodded. I felt shaky because I knew many wounds would reopen, but I knew it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t deserve to get away unscathed.  

- "I-I can do it, with you."  

I looked at her pleadingly, but her small smile said it all. She had been waiting for this, for me to free myself from my past. It had been a long time since she wanted to reopen the case my mother had prepared for me back then.  

- "We’ll do it together, I promise you, my love."  

Gently, she laid me down on my back, coming to rest over me. She kissed me tenderly before whispering:  

- "You are the strongest woman I know. I’m so proud of you."  

I let myself be carried away by her soft lips. Everything had changed so much in just a few seconds. Everything became sensual. I clung desperately to her neck as her hand roamed freely over my body. I caught my breath when she started playing with the hem of my bermuda shorts.  

- "Are you kidding?" I whispered, amused.  

I was dying to, after such an emotional moment, but we were out in nature. It wasn’t reasonable.  

- "What? Don’t you like adventure?" she teased between kisses on my neck. "You know I wouldn’t do it in the house."  

- "Someone could see us," I replied, without actually stopping her hand from sliding down.  

The temptation was just too strong.  

- "There’s the tarp," she murmured, still kissing my neck.  

I gasped when she reached my... soaked heart. Yes, that’s the right word.  

- "Dare tell me you don’t want this," she whispered. "Just be discreet this time."  

- "Oh, you’re talking about me?" I managed to say, shivering at her first caresses. "Let’s see who can control themselves better."  

I followed my words by unbuttoning her shorts. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling this night is going to be long... A long night filled with love under a starry sky

[ausssbutlershortstories]

Alright, so obviously we were wrong about Austin and the Canada trip. That's fine. I will hold my hands up and say I was wrong. But I also didn't need to go to someone's random TikTok and ask for the video, but hey shippers are another level of crazy. Cause it was a shipper who asked her to post the video of Austin and Kaia. They just wanted to prove everyone wrong. Whatever.

Either way, Austin and Kaia have not been seen together in over a month. They've both been in NY at the same time, and nothing. One of those times, Kaia was with Marcello. This new video from last month changes nothing. Kaia was still all over another guy that wasn't her boyfriend. Because a break up hasn't been announced. Rumored, yes. But nothing confirmed. So even if they're broken up behind the scenes, to the public they are still an item. Those pics make Kaia look bad. Her team has done nothing to help her either.

I don't know the exact timeline of when Austin did go to Canada. It was either before his birthday or after. But regardless, that was a month ago. Also doesn't mean it was a happy trip with him and Kaia. They've been having problems for a while. It's naive to think they weren't. I believe a break up has been on Austin's mind for some time.

I do have a theory that they might've taken a break after her book event in July. You could cut the tension between them with a knife that night. It was bad. I'm wondering if they decided to take some time apart. Austin said "Go to Paris and we'll talk when you get back" kind of thing. I did notice how down Kaia seemed in Paris. That's also when people started to notice her rapid weight loss. I can imagine the stress of your relationship being on the rocks would cause that. They were spotted together after she got back. So I guess they decided to work things out, so to speak. Then he went to Canada at some point.

I personally believe they did break up after that trip. I could see it as Austin trying one last time to see if things would be different. I don't think they were. So he broke up with her around her birthday. Kaia hasn't cleared up the shady insta post either. It seemed fresh and she was mad. So maybe Kaia thought things were better when he came to Canada. But I could also see it as he didn't want to ruin the trip either. Couple can break up at anytime.

Again, a lot had happened since the Canada trip. He missed her birthday. My theory, he dumped her. She was all over another guy. There have never been break up rumors like this around them before. The media doesn't care enough about them to randomly make up stories like a break up. The L&S articles aren't random.

I agree with everything here !

Something definitely happened after the Canada trip. The shippers are a bunch of annoying , desperate wanna be Kaia weirdos.I have no God given idea on what they thought the Canada trip was going to prove. Kaia was still on her knees in front of Marcello looking sloppy.

[nilesdaughter]

La Mécanique du cœur

Fandom: Critical Role Characters: Percy De Rolo, Vex'ahlia, Anna Ripley, Vax'ildan, Keyleth of the Air Ashari, Pike Trickfoot, Trinket (Mention), Syldor (Mention), Saundor (Mention), Scanlan Shorthalt (Mention) Pairing: Perc'ahlia Word Count: 3,017 Note: Here's the "Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart" AU that no one asked for, written for the "Heart" prompt for @percahliaweek. [Also found on AO3.]

Percival’s heart died at the age of eighteen.

That isn’t to say that Percival died, of course.

Rather, the young man in question survived the massacre of his family and the torturous pain inflicted upon him by Anna Ripley, living only by the “grace” of one of the good doctor’s many experimental forays into blending science and magic. Her medical tools made quick work of carving him open, breaking bone and tearing apart wet muscle to then hold his bloody heart in her hands. Within the new cavity of his chest, Ripley installed metallic gears and springs and small weights; where once he functioned through his own biological processes, he was driven by clockwork, the delicate kind that he once tinkered with in his youth.

And so, Percival persisted, though he was now forced to treat his heart like a machine.

x-x-x-x-x

Vex’ahlia’s heart died at the age of nineteen.

That isn’t to say that Vex’ahlia died, of course.

Rather, the young woman in question learned the shattered remains she had left in the wake of Syngorn and Byroden had to be held in a tight fist, guarded just as fiercely as Trinket’s mother had protected her cub in her final hours. As she traveled with her brother and slowly learned the magic of the world around her, she discovered that some of it could be used to wrap her fragile heart with briars and thorns. More times than not, the spike of the vines was an internal and mild discomfort that reminded her to tread carefully. But sometimes (the worst times, she believed), her thorns could be visible for all to see. They wrapped around her entire body in a startling display of gnarled and twisted vines, prickly things that warded off anything that would want to hurt her first.

And so, Vex’ahlia persisted, though she was now forced to act as though her emotions were inconsequential.

x-x-x-x-x

“I don’t trust him,” Vax’ildan said in a murmur, throwing a glance over his shoulder towards the pale human man that they’d just released from one of the many prison cells surrounding them.

“He can help us,” Vex countered. “If nothing else, he at least seems to know where to find this cult we’re apparently looking for.”

“Didn’t you hear his chest?” he pressed.

“Of course I did.”

“Then you agree that something’s wrong with him, or that he’s hiding something, because he hasn’t said a word of that to us.”

“And would you expect me to announce my condition to the entire world?” Vex asked with a quirked brow.

Vax stared at his sister for several long moments before rolling his eyes as he clicked his tongue in frustration. “That’s different, Stubby—”

“Is it?”

He sighed heavily. “Alright, alright, fine, be that way. But if he tries anything weird—”

“I know,” she said simply, because she always understood her brother and his caution. It was, after all, his own way of helping further shield her brambled heart.

x-x-x-x-x

Percy, as Vex learned his name was, managed to fit in with the rest of their group, despite clearly having some sort of noble background. Though he kept to himself, he did what he could to help with the various odd jobs they picked up, particularly so since he armed himself with some of the newfangled black powder weapons that were becoming increasingly popular throughout the world. Despite the weapons being terribly loud and often reeking of the burnt powder, they did pack quite the punch, and his precision with his shots usually allowed them to significantly reduce the amount of time they spent in combat.

The longer he spent with Vox Machina, the more they realized that he was also rather good with repairing things, a talent not restricted to the careful maintenance he had to keep up with so his firearms were in working order. Slowly but surely, it became commonplace to find Percy in possession of their broken odds and ends, piecing things together to repair weapons or to craft something entirely new and useful.

As such, it was not a surprise when Vex noticed Percy pulling out a small tool kit one evening when he had volunteered to take watch and she had yet to fall asleep. What was a surprise, however, was when Percy shrugged off the heavy blue coat he rarely parted with and unbuttoned his shirt. As the fabric fell away from his shoulders, pooling at his elbows, she saw the face of a clock on the front of his chest, resting over the space where his heart would be. What she initially assumed was nothing more than some intricate pocket watch sticking to his skin with sweat was soon proven to be attached to him as he opened the small glass door protecting the face and inserted a small key into one of the lowermost winding holes; as he turned his hand, his expression contorted with discomfort. Still, he turned the key a few more times, no matter how frequently he winced, before the subtle movements of the clock’s hands seemed to move much more smoothly than the jerky pace they had had before he used the key.

“So, that’s what you’ve been keeping secret from us, darling?” she couldn’t help but ask, propping herself up on one elbow as she looked at him.

Percy visibly stiffened, sitting ramrod straight as his eyes widened, before he hastily closed the clock’s door and pulled his shirt back up over his shoulders, his now-shaking hands fumbling to rebutton the garment.

“I, ah, didn’t realize anyone was still awake…” he said instead of answering her question.

Vex fell silent for a few moments, just studying him in curiosity. “Is it magic?”

Percy fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, intently focused on ensuring it lay flat against his throat.

“...I’m sorry for prying, darling,” she said gently, slowly recognizing that she would be equally evasive if the situation had been reversed.

Percy sighed a little and clasped his hands together in his lap before hesitantly meeting her gaze. “No, it’s… You all were bound to find out eventually.” He paused to tug off his spectacles before using the corner of his shirt to clean the lenses. “Yes, it is magic, but not by my own doing. I admittedly lack the interest, much less the aptitude, for such things. And, regardless of how I came by it, this is the only thing keeping me alive.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, more out of sympathetic understanding than pity.

“It is merely the current circumstances I have to live with.”

“...Does it hurt?”

Percy was quiet for several moments before he sighed and let out a small, almost exasperated, laugh. “Perhaps you could join me for the watch? I’ll happily answer whatever questions you have, dear, but it may be a bit more comfortable for you to sit up while we talk.”

x-x-x-x-x

Despite how carefully Vex guarded her emotions to keep her thorns under the surface of her skin, Syldor would always be one of the catalysts for pushing them up into plain view of everyone. It seemed like a miracle that her anxiety waited to take full bloom until after Vox Machina left the embassy. But it also seemed like a curse that it happened when Percy was still at her side even as everyone else had moved on to their rooms. As she heard the subtle creak and groan of the vines grow louder and felt the full-body prickle of the thorns forming, she let out a strangled noise of frustration.

Although Percy’s eyes widened in alarm, he had the decency to not jump away from her like some others had in the past.

“I… suspect you’re not alright,” he said tentatively.

She laughed, wet and strangled and lacking any true mirth, as she shook her head. “No, of course not. He’s supposed to be in Syngorn! I don’t know why he had to be here in Emon of all places.” She sighed and wrapped her prickly arms around herself, trying to further the physical shield around her form.

“If it will make you feel better, dear, we don’t actually have to search for your… for the Ambassador’s acquaintance.”

“No,” she said, vehemently shaking her head. “No, I… I don’t want him to know that I’m this upset about seeing him. I can’t let him know.”

“He isn’t aware of the thorns,” Percy guessed.

Vex swallowed and answered in a soft voice, “No. It was a kind of magic I learned after I left his home.”

“Then he won’t know,” he promised. “Even if that means the rest of us have to speak to him without you present.”

Vex tentatively turned her dark eyes to his blue ones, pools of sincerity that she usually only ever saw in her brother, lacking in judgment for the condition her body was in. Slowly, impossibly, her posture relaxed and the briars and thorns and vines receded under the compassion in his gaze.

“That… means more than I think you realize, Percival. Thank you.”

x-x-x-x-x

"Couldn’t sleep?” Vex asked quietly as she slotted herself beside Percy.

“Of course not,” he said, sounding as numb as his distant stare seemed to indicate. “Not when I know she…” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep until I finally end this.”

Vex nodded and watched him carefully, knowing full well that he was leaving plenty of things unsaid but also knowing he was unlikely to want to disclose any of them. That did nothing to stop her from worrying about him.

“Would you like me to keep you company?”

He was silent for a long while, the only sound between them the steady tick-tock, tick-tock of his heart. He eventually nodded, slow and hesitant. “Yes. I… I would.”

She nodded again and turned her attention to restringing Fenthras while Percy took apart Retort, cleaned the parts, and reassembled the weapon. He seemed more than happy to pass the time in silence, however broken it was by the ticking of his heart. When it grew late enough that Vex was about to suggest they call it a night and join the others in the train’s sleeping car, Percy lightly cleared his throat.

“I have something I would like to give you, Vex’ahlia.”

“Oh?” she asked with a small tilt of her head. Not that it was unusual for Percy to make things for her, of course; it just hadn’t seemed to be one of his priorities in recent days, and understandably so.

“Ah… not my usual fare, I admit, but… but it’s important for you to have, I think, before tomorrow.”

Vex felt a sudden whisper of anxiety in the back of her mind, sounding so much like Saundor that she almost physically winced (or was it because her protective thorns were pricking at her insides?), telling her that Percy was trying to say goodbye in his own way. She refused to entertain the thought and tucked the fear away deep in her chest, beneath the briars.

“What is it?” she asked, forcing her tone to remain light and teasingly curious.

He offered her a weak smile and reached into an inner pocket of his coat, producing a small—but thick—envelope. When he passed it to her, there was a surprising amount of heft to it. As she moved to tear the envelope open, he reached out and placed a shaking hand over hers to stop her.

“Please… please wait to open it. I suspect you’ll know when the time is right.”

“...I’ll wait,” she promised softly, once more feeling the prickling pain of her anxiety and once more burying it.

x-x-x-x-x

“No matter what today”—Percy paused to release a shaky exhale—“I forgive you. But I cannot let you leave.”

Ripley let out a noise that seemed caught between a derisive snort and a frustrated growl, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket with her clockwork arm and flinging him to the ground. The sound of glass cracking seemed nearly as loud and sharp as any gunshot from that afternoon. It was difficult to tell if it was from the shattered ground, Percy’s spectacles, or from the face of his heart; when he managed to push himself up into a semi-sitting position, Vex’s sharp eyes could see that it seemed to have been all of the above.

The glass pieces from the face of his heart were chased by its minute hand as he moved to aim Retort up at Ripley, his own hands trembling hard enough that Vex was certain he would miss the shot. The doctor seemed to reach the same conclusion as she shook her head and leveled Animus at Percy in return, her smile condescending and disappointed.

“It seems to me, Percival, that you are the one who won’t be leaving here today.”

A gunshot sounded, accompanied by the sounds of even more shattering glass and the crunch of wood and various metallic snaps.

As Percy fell backwards, pain erupted all over Vex’s skin as vines wrapped around her body and she screamed and screamed and screamed. She was vaguely aware of Keyleth’s responding cry and Scanlan’s curse and her brother suddenly at her side like a shadow, fumbling to notch an arrow when her hands were usually so sure. She drew back her bowstring, the briars and thorns of her pain indistinguishable from the ones blooming along the curve of Fenthras, the weapon mirroring her own heart, and she released all her grief and rage into the arrowhead that sank into the junction where Ripley’s clockwork arm connected with her shoulder. The others also turned their attention to Ripley, mercilessly cutting into her and breaking her as she’d broken their beloved tinkerer. When the doctor screamed her pain and frustration, the sound was cut short by Vex’s second arrow striking true in her throat.

Ripley’s decimated body barely had time to hit the ground before Vex, vision little more than a blur, dropped Fenthras and ran to gather up the pieces of Percy into her shaking, thorny arms.

x-x-x-x-x

Vex’ahlia, I have no doubt that you or your brother have found the letter I left for the group as a whole. I also have no doubt that you all have read it and are, in varying degrees, rather cross with me. This, however, is meant for you and you alone, dear. I’m aware that giving you my winding key is likely too little, too late, but I wouldn’t entrust it to anyone else. While you now hold the literal key to my heart in your hands, please know it belonged to you long before this. I have many regrets but I think not telling you sooner is the one that I carry with the heaviest burden. I sincerely hope you’ll hold onto this piece of me. Yours, Percival

x-x-x-x-x

“Honestly, what he needs is a clockmaker,” Pike sighed heavily.

“Then… there’s nothing you can do, Pickle?” Vax asked after he cast a sideways glance at his sister, watching her once again reread the letter that Percy had evidently left for only her.

“I never said that,” Pike replied with a small huff, moving to wipe her bloodied hands with a damp washcloth. “I managed to stabilize him but he’ll need a completely new clock to ensure he actually stays alive. Unfortunately, though, I think that’ll have to wait until he wakes up.”

Everyone in the room thankfully left the ‘if’ unspoken between them.

“So, what do we do now?” Keyleth asked, her voice still hoarse and scratchy from how much she had cried.

Pike sighed again, a little softer, and looked over Percy’s form in the hospital bed. “All we can do is wait.”

x-x-x-x-x

Despite Vax’s attempts to coax her out of the room, Vex became a near-constant fixture at Percy’s bedside, his winding key in her pocket and his letter in her hands, watching and waiting for him to open his eyes. Sometimes, for the sake of drowning out the irregular and weak ticking of his heart, she would talk to him, keeping him updated on the team’s misadventures or reading a book aloud.

On one of the many nights she tried to read to him, she found that she couldn’t focus on the words and, with a sigh, she closed the book. As she set the book down in her lap, she looked over at Percy, gnawing at her lower lip as she became lost in thought.

“I don’t know if you can actually hear me, darling, but I’m so proud that you entrusted me with your heart. That you let me see it as plainly now as you did when you first showed it to me. But, yes, I am a bit cross with you for not telling me about your feelings sooner.” She let out a small laugh before she sighed and continued, “It means nothing, though, without you here. Your home needs you. Your sister needs you. I need you. And… I should have told that my heart is yours in return.”

“Oh, good. I was worried I’d simply made a complete ass of myself for leaving you that note.”

Vex’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice and was met with a thoroughly exhausted—but cheeky—smile as Percy struggled to sit up.

“Percy!” she gasped, frustrated and surprised and relieved and giddy all at once, before she nearly flung the book across the room in her rush to move in and wrap him in the tightest embrace she dared.

“It’s good to see you, too, dear,” he said weakly.

As she pulled away from the embrace, she began to pepper his face with kisses, feeling his skin warm considerably under the shower of affection but not caring enough to stop, trying to pour every ounce of her love into him so he couldn’t have any doubt that she reciprocated his feelings.

x-x-x-x-x

Percival’s heart revived at the age of twenty-three and Vex’ahlia’s heart revived at the age of twenty-seven, irrevocably intertwined in each other.

[torawro]

spraying cum all over my walls, bed and pillows bc itachi .

[one-and-a-half-yikes]

little weird joining the bakudeku subreddit and then it just being completely vacant of any activity going on and then I look and see IzuOcha sub with more activity (not meant to be taken as a negative tbc, glad they're having fun over there it just sucks lmao) like what the fuck happened???? Did everybody over there fucking die or something?????💀💀😭😭😭😭

[justthatspiffy]

.

[theamazingannie]

I’m a sucker for musical parallels and referencing an old song in a new song but I feel like this TTPD lead up is not just a “this is how I used to feel and now I’m using those themes to show how I feel now” and more of a “those feelings were never real and actually those love songs that were so beautiful before are actually about a bad relationship and full of red flags” cuz it’s honestly ruining my feelings on those old songs. Like Taylor’s whole thing is letting us interrupt the songs and apply them to our own lives and now it’s like even she is encouraging us to only see them through the lens of her most recent breakup and it really sucks tbh

[mostly-imagines]

Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??

meet the family

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason has a girlfriend???

warnings: none

The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.

Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.

It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.

“There’s a girl here!”

Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.

Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.

Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”

“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

Cassandra nods fervently.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”

Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”

“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.

Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”

“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.

“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.

Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.

Knock knock knock knock knock…

Knock knock.

It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.

Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What’cha doing?”

He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.

“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”

“No.”

Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”

Jason shuts the door.

A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.

“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.

“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.

And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.

Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.

“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”

Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”

He stares at her.

“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.

“Stephanie.”

“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”

“Bye.” He closes the door.

He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.

Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.

Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.

Jason shuts the door in his face.

Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.

It’s Cass.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.

Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”

She smiles and turns back down the hall.

Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.

“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.

“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”

He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”

“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”

“I’m starting to regret it now.”

“Come on. Please?” You plead.

He picks his head up to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.

“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.

He sighs.

Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.

You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.

“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”

“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”

Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.

You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.

Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.

Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”

“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.

There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.

“Hold on—”

“—my god, she’s so pretty!”

“Oh wow—”

“Wait, what?”

”—You’re real?”

“—didn’t place that bet.”

Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’m—”

But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.

“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.

“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.

Cass waves and signs something to you.

“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.

Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.

Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”

Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”

Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”

“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.

You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.

Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”

“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.

“No wait!”

You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.

You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”

Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”

You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”

He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.

You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”

“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”

He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.

He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.

The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.

You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.

“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.

You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.

He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.

As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.

“Bruce.”

Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.

“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”

Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.

Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.

Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.

“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.

He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”

Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.

“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.

You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”

He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.

“Jason.”

Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.

“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.

“Yes.”

He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”

Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”

Bruce nods. “Good.”

He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.

Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.

He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…

Oh god, you went back to the living room.

As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.

“—long have you been together, anyways?”

“Well—”

Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”

“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.

Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”

Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”

A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.

“What?”

[ponderingmoonlight]

How kny men treat their pregnant wife

Pairings: Obanai x fem!reader; Rengoku x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: I went absolutely insane in Sanemi's part lmao, let me know what you think about maybe even more kny complilations in the future?🤍🫶

Obanai – super overprotective

„Darling, you really don’t have to be cautious all the time. I’m fine and it’s mid-day.”

“You never know”, the man next to you mumbles while positioning himself in front of you.

Since the day Obanai found out that you’re expecting your very first child, he never left your side. Not even at night, when he’s usually out fulfilling his duty as a hashira. And if he must go, he always makes sure that you’re not alone.

“I really don’t want to bother you, but Iguro-san sent me here to keep an eye open for you”, Mitsuri explained with reddened cheeks after appearing in front of your door at sunset.

You sign to yourself with a small smile crawling up your face. You never really realized that your husband is so eager to have a child. When the two of you first met, he acted so cold towards you that you were convinced he hated you after saving your life in your village back then. It wasn’t until he showed up at the butterfly estate on a random day and handed you a bouquet of flowers that you realized how hard you fell for that man yourself. Despite his cool and composed walls, despite always staying in the background and leaving disgracing comments from time to time. You really learned how to love the serpent hashira for the man he is: kind, loving, protective and smart.

“Why are you not coming over to cuddle me instead?”, you suggest oh so sweetly while opening your arms as an invitation.

Obanai side-eyes you up and down, his mind visibly racing behind those gorgeous eyes.

“But what if I hurt you and the baby?”, he mutters, still standing his ground.

“I’m not made of paper and the baby isn’t as well. And also, I’m carving nothing more than a hug from my husband at the moment.”

Slowly but surely, he finally turns around. As if you’re made of porcelain, he wraps his arms around you oh so gently. Have you ever seen your husband this cautious and sensitive around other human beings? You’ve seen the way he beats up the other corps members in his training sessions on a daily basis. A giggle escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. Your man really turned soft due to this pregnancy.

“What’s so funny?”, he grumbles, his vibrant eyes set on you.

“You’re too hesitant to give me a real hug and yet, you’re beating up innocent kids during training. Come on now, I said I want a real hug!”

Before he’s able to protest, you press yourself against him with full force, allow your head to rest against his beating heart. It’s been ages since he last cuddled you the way you always loved it. With your body resting on top of his and your arms wrapped around his broad chest, everything starts to feel like home.

“Don’t you think that’s too dangerous? The baby-“

“The baby will be fine. I can handle a tight hug, darling. I really missed this…”

He shifts his weight underneath you and gently starts rubbing your back. Oh, how much you adore your husband and those sweet little moments between both of you. You never imagined to love someone like this, to fall head over heels for a man who is the complete opposite of yourself. But here you are, falling even harder day by day.

“And…you really think this is safe?”

“I’m absolutely sure it is!”

Obanai pauses for a moment, his eyes almost piercing through you.

“I think you should go and see Shinobu later”, he finally presses out.

“Come on, I already told you-“

“This doesn’t feel safe at all. We’re leaving in just a few minutes”, he continues while wrapping his arms around you.

Rengoku – the proudest soon-to-be dad

“I made you breakfast, my love!”, your husband announces while entering your shared bedroom in his plain white kimono.

“You’re way too kind, Kyojuro. You know I could have done it myself”, you reply while lifting yourself off the futon.

“Oh, let me help you up!”

Gently, he grabs your shoulders and helps you to get up. With your swollen belly, things aren’t as easy as they used to be. By now, you aren’t even able to see your feet anymore.

But it’s all worth it. He’s all worth it.

“Look at you”, he mutters with unusual low voice.

When his hand starts caressing your belly along with that loving gleam in his eyes, you almost forget how to breathe. From the day both of you found out that you are expecting a child, Kyojuro fell head over heels.

“You look so breathtakingly good, my everything. I could stand here and stare at you all day, little flame.”

It almost seems as if Kyojuro’s already heavy feelings doubled during your pregnancy. Not a single hour goes by without him telling you how gorgeous you look, that you are an angel walking on earth.

Even though you know you gained a few pounds and how swollen your face looks. He doesn’t care about the fact that sometimes, you are too exhausted to wash your hair or that you didn’t dress in something nice since your clothes started to get too tight.

Your husband adores each and every fiber of your being.

“Stop, you’re making me blush”, you giggle while playfully freeing yourself out of his strong arms.

“I’ll never stop telling my pregnant wife how gorgeous she looks! How are you feeling, my love?”

You find yourself trapped in his arms with his eyes all over you again. God, will you ever get tired of looking at him, of seeing those vibrant eyes?

“I’m okay. I just feel a little heavy.”

“I’m so proud of you for enduring all of this. Shinobu already told me this pregnancy doesn’t go easy on your body. You’re a real fighter, (y/n)!”

“A fighter? My body is supposed to do this. There’s nothing special about that”, you try to brush his praise off, cheeks already turning dark red.

“Don’t think about it that way. Your body might be equipped for a pregnancy, but Shinobu informed me about all the things you have to endure and how painful and tiring it can be-“

“Did Shinobu really explain all those things to you?”, you mutter through your hands that cover your face in sheer embarrassment.

“Of course! After all, I’m your husband and it’s my duty to support you in the best way possible!”, his beaming voice replies proudly.

“And I can’t wait to meet our little wonder.”

The second he gets on his knees, you see stars. Oh so gently, he pulls your kimono to the side and starts caressing and kissing your womb. Your knees threaten to fail you, feelings all over the place. God, you really don’t deserve a loving and caring husband like him, you don’t deserve all those feelings he holds for you and your unborn baby so openly.

Before you’re able to stop yourself, a violent sob escapes your lips.

“No love, why are you crying?”

Kyojuro meets you eye to eye in an instant, his hand carrying away every little tear that threatens to stain your face.

“It’s just…You are too kind…I don’t deserve your praise…”, you croak out.

“You deserve this and so much more. Now come on, I made you mochis with the receipt Kanroji taught me…”

You sniffle uncontrollably in his arms.

Wait, did he just say…

“You mean my favorite mochis?”, you mutter.

“Of course, little flame!”

“Oh…Then…Maybe we should get going, then…”

Sanemi – doesn’t even know yet

Fuck fuck fuck.

You stare at Shinobu in sheer horror. This can’t be true. Definitely a mistake. A cruel joke, maybe.

You…pregnant?

“Tell me you’re joking”, you mutter under your breath.

Just when you thought things between Sanemi and you started to get better, than you finally managed to live besides. Calling yourself his wife was never easy, especially due to the fact that he only married you because your family literally sold you to him in exchange for not killing you right on the spot. The two of you never seemed to get along that well.

You swallow hard. That night was an exception. You came home drunk, you didn’t know what you were doing when you seduced him, when you began babbling about something as stupid as feelings.

You swore to yourself that you’ll never fall for your husband. And now you’re expecting his child.

“I’d never joke about something like that, (y/n). It seems like somehow, you managed to get pregnant”, Shinobu replies in all seriousness while taking off her gloves.

Fuck.

“He’ll fucking kill me”, you mumble to yourself.

“Maybe he’ll skin me before that, slice open my belly like a fish-“

“Can you just stop?”, Shinobu interrupts you in all urgency.

“Shinazugawa might not be the most empathic man walking on this earth, but he also didn’t marry you for nothing. I’m sure everything will be fi-“

“Absolutely nothing’s fine. I’m fucking screwed”, you huff in frustration while yanking up.

You’re completely fucked. There’s no way in hell Sanemi will ever find out about this, not in this lifetime. You have to make sure that this stays a secret.

“Don’t you dare to tell him a single word about this, got it?”, you literally threaten Shinobu with your shaky finger pointing at her.

You, expecting a baby.

From Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Without even waiting for her reply, you storm out. Are you able to get rid of this situation? Mindlessly, you rub your belly when a new wave of memories from that fateful night hits you.

“I might l-love you”, you blurted into the room, Sanemi’s widened eyes staring at you in sheer horror.

“You…love me? Just yesterday, you told me how much you hate me”, he clarified with harsh voice.

“Are you drunk, (y/n)?”

“I…might be, yeah. But I mean it.”

Against all voices that begged you to stop, you darted towards him.

Until you sat on top of him and wrapped your longing arms around his neck.

“I love u, Sanemi.”

“I can’t believe a single word you say, shithead.”

“Watch me, then.”

It happened so fast you still can’t believe it. One passionate kiss, your hands wandering underneath his uniform, his muscular frame on top of you.

“You really want this?”, he huffed against your cheek, usual so maniac orbs filled with nothing but pure lust.

“Yeah”, you breathed out.

Urgh. You dig your nails into your hair, head spinning instantly. What kind of fuckery is this? Your first night ever and now…you’re pregnant? As if things between you and him aren’t already cringe enough.

“Why are you looking like shit?”

His oh so familiar voice makes your guts turn. For the split of a second, you are literally one movement away from puking all over his feet.

“Why are you talking shit?”, you spit at him, shoulder bumping against his as you try to get away from here as soon as possible.

But Sanemi grabs your wrist before you’re even able to think about your escape.

“Why were you at Shinobu’s? You never visit her.”

“I’m not feeling well”, you jeer at him.

“You even refused talking to her when your bone splatted out of your damn leg. Don’t fuck with me, (y/n). You didn’t come here for nothing.”

“Yeah, I really shouldn’t have done that”, you snap, violently ripping away your wrist.

This is way too much. Your family, Sanemi, that damned pregnancy. You thought this hell trip was over when Sanemi somehow managed to accept you, you really thought you could leave a rather peaceful life.

God, what a fucking fool you are.

“Hey, what the hell is going on? (y/n)!”

Just before your knees hit the ground, you feel Sanemi’s strong arms lifting you back up.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“I’m pregnant!”, you scream on top of your lungs.

“All of this because of that damned night, because I lost my fucking control. I’m pregnant…”

Sanemi’s arms around you tense up immediately. Fuck, you can’t even bring yourself to look at him.

Truth is, you love that man. Fuck, you fell for him harder than you ever imagined, so badly that you can’t stop thinking about him. And that night, you allowed yourself to get a taste of him. After all, maybe this was all you need to finally forget about him, right?

What a fool you are.

“You’re…what?”

Violently you rub away the tear that starts rolling down your cheek.

“You’re…pregnant…”

“Saying it again and again won’t make it disappear”, you bark at him.

“I’ll be a dad?”

Huh? What is that unusual tone in his voice. Did Sanemi Shinazugawa really sound…joyful?

“Yeah…”, you mutter.

In the split of a second, you find yourself devoured in his arms and captivated by his glossy eyes. Your heart skips a beat, mind not able to follow the scene that lays itself out in front of your eyes. He doesn’t look angry at all, not even sad. No, he looks as happy as you’ve never seen him before.

“I can’t believe it. I never imagined this to happen”, he whispers while grabbing your face.

“Gosh, let me kiss you.”

“You want to kiss me?”, you shriek.

Despite your growing feelings for the wind hashira and those countless secret looks you’ve shared with each other, it was always a quiet agreement between both of you to never express any feelings. No hugs, no kisses, no questions. Just living side by side. Fuck, you never even allowed yourself to even gaze at his lips before that fateful night.

And now you’re lying in his arms, pregnant while he asks for a kiss.

“I mean…yeah”, you finally breathe out.

And then his lips crush against yours. Longingly, passionately, filled with so many emotions that you fail to breathe. All this time, you tried so desperately to hate that man, to hide your feelings from him in order to protect yourself. But all it took was a single night and that unexpected pregnancy to make you realize that maybe, allowing yourself to discover your own feelings isn’t that bad, after all.

Maybe, everything will in fact turn out alright.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[anastasiabowe]

" WATASHI WA STAR! "

✩ɞ You're a fucking star. And they want a taste of it.

cw. MDNI, [SEPERATE] fan (except Nanami) (Toji, Nanami, Choso, Geto) with celeb reader, female implied reader, mild stalking, POC implied reader (specifically African/African American, but not secluded to such), semi-public sex, caught sex, piv, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected, creep tendencies, squirting. (Ps. Not too much on perspective shifts, I low-key was fighting demons trying to stay on 3rd person perspective but I gave up..sorry..)

wc. 6,776

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☆ backstage pass.

It wasn't every tour you offered such an amazing type of pass for your millions of fans. The back stage pass. You avoided it, you didn't like the idea of people looking at you from behind stage, getting in the way between songs, or even abusing the opportunity. But, when your team pointed out how much money you could make, how this could boost your morale, how could you refuse?

When it was announced that you were offering such a deal, the amount of people who made posts, videos, tweets about it, the amount of people that pleaded in your dm's about you saving them a ticket was overwhelming to say the least. It was mère weeks of the constant buzz about the special pass that was limited to 3 people. The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes felt like hours, the hours felt like days for all the fans who would be coming to your Japan show that was in a couple of weeks.

Launch day was terrifying. The second the tickets went for sale, Ticketmaster crashed from the amount of people trying to fight and pay their way to the special pass. After it was fixed, and the many apologies given from yourself and your team. The first 5 were sold. But so were the 200,000 open seats that very day. Was it record breaking? Nearly, did it break headlines? Definitely.

That was a few weeks ago. Now it's the day of your concert. You weren't nervous, you've done this for years, I mean how could you be? The thing you were slightly anxious about was the 3 fans who'd be backstage with you. They aren't only back stage, they get free food, a meet and greet with you, back stage seats to watch you perform, and they get to listen to your unreleased single before anyone else. What if they were creepy old men who want to hurt you? What if they had a bomb, or gun, and wanted to kill you? Those thoughts ran through your head as someone knocked on your door.

"Y/n? Backstage pass holders are here. It's time for you to greet them." Your manager called through the door*

"Alright, thank you." You shook the nerves and opened your dressing room, following your manager out to the empty foyer except for the single man standing there.

You approached the smiling man. He wore nothing but black, but you could see the small logo of your logo on the left side of his all black shirt, under his leather jacket. It was clearly your merch.

"Hello." You spoke to the man. You studied his face as you spoke. He wasn't half bad looking. He was taller than you, he had well defined muscles under your merch, and he had a scar on his lip. He smirked and looked down at you.

"Hey, princess." He said too casually. You frowned at the nickname, unsure how to feel about it. Your mind didn't like it, but the butterflies that filled your belly proved otherwise.

"Is it just you?" You asked, looking behind him. He chuckled and looked behind and around himself.

"Guess so," he smirked. "Guess it's just you and me backstage." You frowned even more. Damn, now you have to entertain him for the "meet & greet" portion, and after the concert for when he hears your unreleased song. It's going to be a long night.

"Okay, well, thank you for purchasing the backstage pass. You'd be the first to enjoy the luxury." You said plainly, trying to fight the fact the longer he looked at you, the more shy and flustered you felt. Okay, you were lying. This man is hot. You imagined things about him you shouldn't..like how his scar might feel on your-

"princess?" He waved his hand in front of your face, chuckling. "There she is." You blinked and looked up at him. God, why does he have to call you that? It makes you even more flustered and those damn butterflies don't know how to fucking die. Did he even say anything? All you heard or saw was those highly inappropriate and fanciful visions of him and you indulging in- activities.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" You asked, no longer slightly flustered, but very flustered. He had his phone out and looked at you

"Yeah, I said my name's Toji, can we take a photo for my son?" His tone was a bit snarky and I rolled my eyes. He had a kid? I mean, makes sense, who wouldn't want a man like that to get them preg- damnit what the hell is going on with you?!

"Oh, yeah, sure! Just a photo?"

"Yeah, unless you wanna do a video or something." He said nonchalantly. I shook my head. "no, it's okay." He only chuckled at that and positioned his phone to take a selfie. He wrapped his larger arm around your waist and pulled you close, heads touching. He brought his hand to your left tit and secretly placed his hand on there as if he was innocently trying to hold you close. He took a few more and you pulled away, trying to seem unbothered, but damn did that turn you on.

He put his phone away and smiled. He knew you were flustered. I mean it was obvious by how slightly red your face was, even under all that makeup, your ears were a little red. He could tell from the way your eyes flickered to his body as often, if not more often than he did to you. You bit your lip occasionally, and stared at his longer than necessary. He wanted you, and now he can tell you did too, but he wouldn't admit that. He continued to study your body language, and he then noticed, it was almost too discreet to see, but he knew what he saw. You rubbed your thighs together, and not because of how you stood. He knew he had you. The breath y/n was falling for him. If not that, somewhat into him.

"you okay princess? I hope my company isn't...bothering you." He smirked as he stared you down.

"H-Huh?" You stuttered like a damn fool. God, you're the y/n, why the hell is this nobody making you feel this way. Especially this quick! It's been what, maybe 20 minutes, and you're already thirsting over this stranger! Ugh! Get a fucking grip!

"You've been staring off into space, I'm starting to think all that money I paid to see your cute face was f'r nothing." He teased as he crossed his arms.

"No! No, it wasn't for nothing, I'm just a bit..nervous! Nervous for the show, you know?" You tried to lie. It was so fucking obvious you were lying. You've bragged to the world at how comfortable you were on stage and how when you performed for half a million, you were only nervous that you might slip or fall in the heels you wore, but not from the amount of people looking at you. He knew it was a bold face lie, and he found great joy in your flustered state.

"Hmm, is that so? I guess I see no lie in that." He said, emphasizing the lie part. Damnit, now you were aware of the fact he knew you were lying. He definitely knows you're into him. But you can't be! I mean all those dating rumors, fan theories, I mean hell, what if you lose your following!? You sighed. Fuck...why were you giving in so damn easily? Why was he making you feel like this..I mean all he has is a pretty face! And a pretty body..and voic- fuck!

"Uh..what time is it?" You asked, trying to change the subject from the roaring thoughts filling your mind. He laughed and grabbed your wrist with your watch on it. "Hmmm, I wonder princess. It's almost like you have a watch on your wrist." Of course he'd be sarcastic, of course! Just find every fucking opportunity to make you embarrassed, huh?

"O-Oh.. I knew that." You tried to play it off. It was only 5:30, and your concern starts at 7. You had maybe an hour left with him alone before you had to be brought back into your dressing room to get ready for your concert. He continued his grip on your wrist, and that's when he did it. He pulled you to him. Right in the middle of that empty foyer.

"you know princess, I paid a whopping $2000 for this backstage pass. It wasn't easy getting the pass. And it certainly wasn't easy making sure I was the only one you'd be seeing tonight, so I think I should make it worth the money, don't ya think?" He smirked as he said that inches from your face. "You got a room we can go to? So we can..chat a little?"

You knew exactly what he was insinuating. He had you flush against him. He was whispering lowly in that deep, seductive voice of his. He was luring you in, and it was working. You should be pulling away. His wandering hand down to your ass didn't go unnoticed, yet you didn't pull away. You only nodded and that's how you found yourself bent over on your vanity in your dressing room, hair wrapped manically in his thick fingers as he fucked you from behind, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him.

"yeahhh, that's what 'm fucking talking' about." He growled as he stared at your pretty tear stained face. All that damn expensive makeup you wore just for him to find a game in trying to take it off by tears alone was comical to him. Your legs felt like jelly, and the mean arch you were in was borderline painful, but he hit it so fucking good!

"ah-ah-ah!" You cried as his rough thrusts hit deeper and deeper. Your eyes rolled and crossed and molded into hers as you felt him in your gut. He planned this, that's what's so infuriating about this. He had the condoms ready, the fresh tattoo of your name, small, but visible right above his dick. He had all the right things to say and things to do to get you to the point of letting this- stranger fuck you!

"T-Toj-" he cut you off as he brought his lips to your ear in a mean smile as he stared at your tear-stricken face in the mirror. "Shhhh, princess. Just let me take care of you." He chuckled. His hand that was on your hip was now on your breast, fondling and pulling at the nipple. He moved his other hand from your hair to your neck so he could pull you up, and fuck you like that. God you were so hot. He just wanted you all to his self. For 5 fucking years he wanted you. Yeah, it was creepy, maybe just a little, but he never did anything diabolical! He put posters and pictures of you up in his son's room so he has an excuse to see your face. He always saved your photos, screenshot them from any platform you posted them on and put them into a hidden album. He never missed an album or single released from you. He wished he could travel the world with you to see you at every concert you had, but he wasn't a millionaire.

"Love this pussy, love this body, love this voice, and fuck I love you." Any person in their right mind would find his words creepy, but you weren't in the right mind, you didn't even think you had one at the moment. His words only brought you closer to your release. After a while, he let go of your tit and neck and pulled out. He picked you up like a doll and brought you to the couch in the dressing room. He sat down and had his arms around your legs in a full nelson. He inserted himself and began fucking you like that. He let out the hottest groan you've ever heard and you cried from pleasure in this new position.

"Fuck me!" You whined as he chuckled. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you, nothing but spit and teeth as he fucked up into you. He muttered things no woman would want to hear from a stranger.

"Makin' it real hard not to put a baby into you, just so everyone can know you're mine.. maybe take ya home with me, show you off to my kid..you know he'd love it, right? He wouldn't let you go, oh no he wouldn't. How's that sound? Knock you off this high horse your own and mommify you, domesticate you." No, no, no, he didn't mean that, he couldn't have. But of course, you didn't reply. You brain was mush. All these words did were turn you on to the point you came without letting him know.

"Naughty fuckin' girl. Did I say you could cum? So fucking greedy, don't know what to do with ya." He meanly said. He started rubbing your cunt, continuing to fuck you. "Since you like cumming so much, let's just see how much more you can, princess."

Stupid backstage pass.

NANAMI KENTO ☆ post premier.

Oh the actor life. Full of filming, premiers, releases, interviews, fame. You were currently one of the highest trending actresses of 2024. Next to Margot Robbie, Zendaya, hell even Anne Hathaway. You had movies, after movies, after shows coming out for a couple of years, and each a rising hit. You were currently at the red carpet of your newest movie. You wore a beautiful black dress that was tight and long. It had a draped back, that showed off your beautifully toned and clear back. The draped part hung low and perfect right above your ass, and your hair was just as pretty. It was a wig that looked stunning on you. It was long, and the curled layers added to the elegance. You were currently resting your hand on your co-star, Kento. He was new to the acting industry, but any movie you were in with any co-star made every actor seem like an A-list actor.

The paparazzi and journalists loved your chemistry the best. Kento was a fine man. Had good morals, spoke nothing but respect and admiration for you at interviews. He had high respect for you in person with the way he looked, spoke, and touched you. He kept his hands to himself, or at respectable places on your body like your arm, which many other co-stars didn't. If he saw your dress was slipping down too much, or the people taking a gazillion photos of you focused on your chest or lower region, he'd cover it up with his hand or body. Those actions didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Everyone praised and fawned over your relationship. It almost seemed like your relationship in the romance movie was...real.

You and Kento soon began to enter the elegant and high class theater, but before, you were pulled gently by him for an interview with a well known journalist for a well known magazine.

"Kento, y/n. Tell us about the dynamics in your movie before it's released to the public." The Australian man asked, more focused on Kento for the moment.

"Well, our characters are from 2 completely different worlds. Y/n's character is lively, fun, not as well off as my character, but she brings joy to the people around her, like in real life. She brings joy everywhere she goes. My character is more reserved, well off, and a bit more modest and stoic. Much more like myself, I prefer to stay out of the spotlight. I think it's a very common trope in most romance movies, but the plot and acting really make our movie stand out, and I'm excited for all to see." Kento said as he looked at me, the journalist and camera.

"And as for you, Y/n?"

You smiled and looked at Kento. "Just as he said, but I'd like to add that our characters may be completely different, but they fit together so well. I think we balanced each other out quite well, and as you will see in the movie when it comes out, the chemistry between them seems almost fanciful. But I think that's what true love should look like." You smiled up at Kento, and the journalist couldn't even tell if you were actually talking about the characters, or yourselves. He smiled, and nodded.

"Well, we're excited to watch your movie when it comes out." You and Kento nodded as well, and waved as you both began to head into the theater. You kept your hands around his arm as you both walked and he leaned down and kissed your exposed shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he looked at your face. You looked up at him and nodded.

"yes, I'm excited to watch our movie." You softly laughed as you both and many others including other co-stars and the bits team headed into the theater. You saw a few other celebrity friends of yours, and you waved to them, but you never left Kento's side. You both found your seats and sat down. This might be a late to say, but you and Kento were secretly dating. I mean, that type of chemistry in your movie and person wasn't just good friends, it was the chemistry of lovers. Everyone you knew, knew you and Kento were dating, and they all were respectful and quiet about it. I mean it was almost obvious that you both were dating though. He constantly has his hands on you, even though they could be mistaken for a co-star being kind to their other co-stars, you knew he was just being slightly possessive. He kissed your shoulder often, and when paparazzi or journalists/interviewers were out of sight, his hand wandered to your exposed lower back.

You both weren't hiding your relationship, but you also weren't super open about it because it was your relationship. And you wanted it to be strictly your guys', not the world's.

"I'm nervous about the adult scene." He muttered honestly. You laughed and placed your hand on his. He was so cute, it was hard to believe he'd, such a domestic and masculine man could be so cute. You squeezed his hand and reassured him. "Especially since we know what really went down."

You blushed and nodded. Even though the adult scene was fake, you both were into it, and in the real way. Kento did ask once if the padding they wore was necessary, and the body suit you had to wear to keep the movie 17+ and not rated R. They gave you the freedom to do what you pleased in the general sense of 'making love' and not anything more.

"I think it'll be a good trip down memory lane." You smiled. The director of the movie came on the stage in front of the screen, and gave a synopsis and introduction to the movie. He thanked us all and the movie began. Throughout the movie, many of us actors laughed and smiled about the scenes we were in. Ken often smiled and quickly told me about what he did or felt, or reminded me of the bloopers. I smiled and laughed quietly at his remarks. The adult scene came and passed, and you smiled through it all. Soon the movie came to an end and the theater erupted in claps. You and Ken had rehearsed this moment of where after the movie you'd each give your own person thank you or speech. We both got up and he helped me carefully onto the stage and began speaking.

"thank you all who showed up, watched, and enjoyed the movie. Me, Rayna, our co-star and movie team are so thankful for the opportunity to fill this movie. We hope you all enjoyed it, and will continue to." He continued in thanking individuals for a specific thing and I remained silent and had my hand on his lower back as spoke. He then clapped with everyone else when he was done, and looked at you as you began to speak. Of course, you were starting to tear up like you did with every premier. It wasn't an annoyance, and everyone knew they were tears from how proud you were of everyone and how you always have some emotional tie to the movie or show you filmed. This one was different though, because you found a lover through it. For the first time.

"I just want to thank Ken. I mean, I've done movies like his for years, and I've never felt this way for a co-star. He is brilliant, kind, hardworking, and caring, and I wouldn't wish for someone better. This is his first movie, believe it or not, and I'm so proud of him. I'm proud of everyone, but I'm proud of him." Everyone clapped and you laughed as he pulled you into a hug. You cried into the hug and everyone clapped and cheered.

After the premier, you and Kento were in the car on your way back to your house. He wanted to celebrate with you for the movie. There were already good remarks from critics, and the movie is already trending without even being out. You reached your mansion, and entered the cold but warm place. You got out of your dress and into more comfortable clothes. Ken as well.

You both sat on your couch and enjoyed some wine and champagne. You sat there in his shirt and panties. He in a shirt and his dress pants from the evening. You smiled as you both sat there in comfortable silence.

"I'm so proud of you, love." He finally said. His eyes were staring ahead as he took a sip from his glass. "So damn proud of you." He then looked at you and smiled. You smiled back.

"I'm so proud of you. You made this my favorite movie I've ever filmed."

"And you made my first movie the best movie I've ever filmed." He said warmly, setting his glass down, and taking yours from your hand, setting it down. He pulled you into his lap, straddling him, and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face into your neck and sighed contently. You threaded your fingers in his blonde locks and rested your head on his.

He softly moaned to the feeling of your fingers in his hair, and gently kissed your chest over the shirt. You smiled, and settled further into his lap. He groaned slightly and gripped your hips. "Don't move like that, love, you know it was hard enough to keep myself under control when you were in that dress.

"We're alone now, what's there to hold back?" You smiled mischievously and slowly began to grind on him. He groaned again, and looked up at you, once neat and smooth hair, now messy and fluffy. His eyes bore into yours as he groaned again. You looked down at him and bit your lip with a smile. "What's wrong, ken?" You asked innocently.

He chuckled and shook his head, pulling you down on his clothed cock harder. "You know, y/n, that adult scene gave me ideas." He muttered as he ran his hands over your waist. "How it must feel to just make love..all night." You blushed at his words.

"Y-Yeah?" You stuttered as your face felt warm.

"yeah. I think we should try it again but for real this time." He smirked. "How's that sound, love?"

You felt impossibly warmer. You guys never 'made love' quote on quote. You didn't fuck either.. you guys barely made it past kissing and dry humping, so now he wants to make love. I mean, who were you to refuse.

"I would like that, ken..a lot." You smiled. He smiled back and nodded. He then began to kiss your neck gently, pressing warm but cold and wet kisses to your neck. His hands slipped under his shirt (that you wore) and caressed your soft body. You moved your head to give him more access, and you softly moaned. He gently pulled the shirt over your head, exposing your body, now only in the black panties you chose to wear. He marveled at your body, eyes never leaving your chest. He smiled, and moved his kisses from your neck, to your collarbone and below. He took his time with you. He wanted you to feel his love for you, every single drop. His kisses were deliberate and targeted. His kisses made your tummy heat up, and thighs wanting to close, but his legs which you were sitting on prevented such.

"K-Ken-..more please.." you muttered as your hands gripped his hair tighter. He nodded and gently bit your chest. "As you wish love." He had his hands on your hips as he laid your nearly naked body onto the couch. He slipped off his shirt, and undid his pants, sliding them down. "Tell me what you want, love."

No, no, no.. not this, please. You internally begged. You hated when he did this, you just wanted him to touch you where it hurt, where it begged for him. "Kennn!" You whined. He knew what he was doing! He smirked. That damn smirk that makes you melt and fold in ways no other man has ever gotten you to do. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your lips. "I'm sorry baby, you know how I am. Tell me what you want, and you'll get it, I promise." He smiled as he almost babied you, which you really didn't mind.

"Mmm, touch me..down there.." you muttered, now feeling shy. He smiled and brought his hands to your lower stomach. "Here?" He smiled. You whined and he chuckled. "You gotta be a little more specific love, there's a lot "down there"."

You huffed and wrapped your legs around his waist. "Kennn! You know where!" He tried to act like he didn't and you groaned. "I wanna feel you in me!" He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "Better." He then hooked his fingers into the panties, and pulled them up your legs, you immediately unlocking them from his waist so he could pull them off. He pulled off his boxers as well, his angry tip slapping against his stomach. You looked down at his cock, it was so pretty. You've only seen it once before, but not for something like this. He reached into his wallet which was in his pants pocket and pulled out a condom.

"No." You sat up and grabbed the condom, throwing it away from you both. He looked at you with furrowed brows. "Honey?" He asked confused why you did that. You now felt sheepish but you stayed firm. "I-I want you inside.. I wanna feel all of you."

"Are you sure?" He asked carefully. He was hoping you were sure of what you were implying. He had no problem with it, but it could lead to a longer term issue. A child. You nodded and locked your legs around his waist again. "I'm sure, now please put it in..I just wanna feel you, that's all, please." He couldn't say no to that cute face. Your cute body, he just couldn't. So he lined himself up, and remained hovering over you.

"Take some deep breaths, love." He whispered as he slowly inserted his thick tip. You gasped and held onto him, arms wrapped around his neck and back, nails scratching. He paused and waited till you calmed down before he slowly inserted himself. He was so thick, and long, and God did it feel glorious. When you gave him the okay, it was like a whole new world was opened. You weren't new to sex, you've had a few hookups throughout the years, but they were never this intimate, this intense. Kento cared about you and your well-being over his own pleasure, and to be honest, you think he finds pleasure in your well-being! He grunted as his pace increased and each grunt sent another deep pang of butterflies into your tummy. You moaned and whimpered into his ear at how good he felt. It was so overwhelming that a tear slid down your cheek. No words were said throughout this moment. He kissed your tears and lips. He kissed your nose and cheeks. He loved you, but he wouldn't say it until you did. He didn't wanna scare you off.

He hit so deep, and the mixture of pleasure, and security you felt made it 10x better. "K-Ken- fuck, it's so good, it's so, so, good, please don't stop." You cried as he continued his pace, increasing the speed of it slightly. He felt himself letting go, but he couldn't do it before you, he couldn't.

"sweetheart, you-fuck, you close?" He groaned as he felt himself too close. You whined and nodded. He tapped his shoulder repeatedly as you came and that's all it took for him to come inside. He captured your lips in a kiss as he fucked you both through it. It was too good, too fucking good, and you both felt it. He pulled away slightly to catch his breath and he chuckled.

"I'm hard again."

CHOSO KAMO ☆ cute stalker.

There you were. Walking through all those paparazzi wannabe's. They wish you looked at them like you did him. They wished you got on your knees for them like you did him. They wanted to be him so bad, your lover. Except, you didn't even know who he was. You never met him, seen him, touched him. It was all in his head. Choso wasn't crazy, he swears he's not. He just likes every photo, video, interview you were in, your account or not. He would constantly buy new phones from himself constantly breaking them from throwing them from seeing you with another man. He wanted you all to his self.

He wasn't crazy, he swears he isn't. He just wants the love of his life all to himself, that's all. I mean how could he not, you were beautiful, and you always look at him, every time you follow him you see him, you smile and wave at him. No you didn't. He follows you and whatever way you look and he happens to be secretly stalking you from, he thinks that's you looking at him. But, you have met, once. At your meet and greet. He was so excited to see you, and he did, but he let something slip out that got him kicked out. He said he'd kill for you. He was dead serious, but he didn't mean he'd ACTUALLY kill FOR YOU! He just meant he'd protect you. But there's been too many cases of celebrities being killed by crazy fans who have the "if I can't have you, no one will" mentality. But he'd never kill you, he wants you for real and not in the afterlife.

So here he was, deliberately walking towards you, pushing past paparazzi, and straight to you. He was nervous. The bouquet in his hands, the chocolate in his other. The large teddy bear with your name on its tummy squeezed tight to his chest, he was ready. But just as he was about to reach you, he was yanked away by a security guard. The security guard threw him into the wall yelling at him to step away. He cried out, and you widened your eyes at the contact. You pushed the security guard away and rushed to him despite the other security stopping you.

"Are you okay?! Why the hell did you do that!?" You asked Chris, and yelled at the security. The security didn't look sorry for hurting Choso, but a bit startled at your yelling. You gently brought your hand to the back of his head which was bleeding from the impact, and frowned. You gathered the flowers that thankfully stayed together, the chocolate, and bear and handed it to him. "I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

He didn't take the gifts and nodded. "Those are for you..and I'm okay.." he was fighting tears, but not from pain, from you being so close to him. His dream girl. You smiled at his words on how those gifts were for you. You looked at the bear and clutched it to your pretty chest, oh the chest that he'd bury his face in for decades. He stared at your pretty face as you talked to him. You were inviting him to eat with you, but all he heard was "bla bla bla, I love you, bla bla bla." He'd probably explode if his head wasn't elsewhere at your invite. You noticed his dazed expression and softly laughed, tapping his cheek.

"hello?" He shook himself out of his fantasy and looked at you when you got his attention. "Do you want to have lunch with me? To apologize for what my security did?" Did he hear you right?! The paparazzi was continuously snapping photos of them, but he didn't care. He nodded and smiled, with your help, stood up. You were slightly shorter than him, and he couldn't help but find you adorable as you held his hand and pulled him into the restaurant you were going to dine in. It was a celebrity restaurant meant for no flash photography or paparazzi in general. You got a table and sat across from him, your security remained at the table next to you.

"I'm really sorry about that, your head is bleeding.." I frowned when I looked at my hand which touched his head a bit ago. He waved you off, too focused on your casual beauty. He knew you weren't wearing makeup, and how cute you looked without it. You let him order whatever he wanted, and you smiled and chatted with him. Each sentence, word, syllable that came out of your mouth made him even more obsessed with you. All those months of following you did not go in vain. It was all worth it. This would be a life lesson to you all who read this, good things comes to those who wait.

You found yourself finding the man kind of..cute? He had this cute purple hue under his eyes, and his 2 spikey buns were adorable. He smiled and was attentive to you, and you couldn't help but enjoy his company. You must have enjoyed it too much, because here you were, in the bathroom of that restaurant sucking him off.

"Aha, y-y/n.." he moaned your name as you licked and sucked his cock. It was so good, so yummy. You enjoyed the feeling of it laying heavy in your mouth. He thought he was dreaming, the delusion finally winning, but no, here he was getting head from his favorite actress. You brought your tits to his cock, and began pushing them together and squeezing his cock with them. He didn't know what to do with his hands. Does he put them on the sink, or does he put them in your hair? You smiled up at him so devilishly that he chose the latter. You stuck your tongue out, and licked his tip with every up and down you made your tits go. Almost like a premature teen, he came over your tits and onto your tongue, chin, collarbone. You continued to stroke him, and licked up his mess.

"Mm, so pretty."

GETO SUGURU ☆ chauffeur.

You've gone through driver after driver, but they all weren't like Geto. He was your personal driver, went everywhere you did. He knew the routes you liked, he knew how to keep you entertained. He understood you when you complained to him. He was always on time to pick you up and drop you off. He knew how you liked the car you were in, the right temperature, whether you wanted the windows down or not, he also knew what Spotify playlist you'd be into, which was usually your songs. But also, he knew he was in love with you.

He always remained respectful of you, cheeky yes, but never crude or creepy. He complimented you, helped you into the car and out, always saying something about you being a "princess". He loved driving for you. He loved that you loved him driving for you. He knew he was a shoulder for you to cry on, and that's why you usually always confided in him, no matter how long the drive. You also sit in the front more often than not. Most people don't do that, but he makes you feel welcome in the front, and you like sitting in the front.

You soon found yourself way too comfortable with him. He practically was your boyfriend without the touching and title. You told him about your period, your cravings, your needs, desires, wants. You've talked about your body and how you love it or hate it. You complained to him about sexual frustration. It wasn't like you had to tell him any of that, you certainly didn't. You had many friends who you could tell that too instead, but there was something about him that was so inviting. He's also confided in you too. He talked to you about this girl he liked and how he wanted her. He talked to you about his hair and how he's happy you like it long. He's let you even do his hair in long traffic stops. You guys were like lovers without being official.

But you'd be a damn fool to say he wasn't attractive. You found yourself almost excited when he honked the horn every time he waited for you outside, or how upset you'd be when he didn't pick you up and someone else did instead. You found yourself staring at him and imagining how it'd feel for you to grip his hair as he hugged you, or did other activities. You wondered if he would be into hair pulling, or if he'd be into other things. It was inappropriate, it was weird, and it definitely wasn't the cause to the fact you're riding him in the backseat of your limo.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Geto repeated as you hopped on his dick. You tugged his hair as you rolled your hips and slid up and down his lengthy cock. He captured your left tit into his mouth as his hands remained firm on your lower ribs. You moaned as your legs burned, but the feeling of his cock inside you overpowered all your senses and you prevailed. You never lent up as he has came many times, you just as many. He was completely pussy drunk off of you. Soon enough, he couldn't handle it anymore and came again. You moaned and giggled as he came inside you, you enjoyed the feeling, and your body shivered at it. You continued to grind down fervently. He let out the hottest whimpers and groans as you fucked him dry. You soon came and slowed down to a stop. He held your front to his tightly as he shook from how much he came.

"W-want to taste you.." he shamelessly admitted, pulling you gently off of him, and laid you in the gap between the driver and passenger seats so he could eat you out. He let out a shaky breath as he looked at your soppy, creamy cunt, mixed with his and your juices. He pressed his nose and lips to your cunt and began gently sucking and licking you clean. His tongue slapped up every juice from you. You moaned and your legs shook at the overstimulation. He didn't even realize how good you tasted till he found himself panting as he continued to desperately eat you out. You let out a scream in pleasure and pulled his hair.

"G-Getooo! T-too much~♡!" He groaned and continued to eat you out. He inserted his middle and ring finger and began fucking you with them. You squealed and he smiled. You tried to push his head away, legs kicking and shaking as you felt your release again.

"S-Sugu-ahhh!" You shook as you came again, your juices sprayed against his face and he let out the hardest groan, cumming himself simply from eating you out. He slowly licked you clean and pulled away, hair a bit wet from you squirting.

"First time you've given me a ride." He chuckled, kissing your thighs.

"it definitely won't be the last."

[tender-rosiey]

“OH GOD! IT’S WALKING?!”

— baby’s first steps with gojo, nanami, geto, and sukuna (f!reader)

GOJO SATORU:

your daughter simply adores her father, and she is almost as energetic as him. you recall multiple times when he would pick her up smiling, and she would hold his face giggling and smiling just as much.

it’s such a cute scene, and you have at least 6 similar photos.

so yeah, it doesn’t surprise you that she keeps looking at the door, waiting for him to come back from his mission.

you’re both sitting on the ground, a little distance from the door. you lightly tickle her, “you wanna see dada?”

she looks up to you then looks to the door and murmurs, “dada.”

“he will be here soon; I promise,” you press a kiss to her cheek, and she squeals. soon, the door clicks and it slowly opens to reveal your dear husband who’s holding what you think are bags of sweets, toys, and souvenirs.

“the world’s best dad and husband is here!” he announces brightly. quickly, you get your phone out to record yet another cute moment between your daughter and your husband.

however, neither you nor your husband expected your little girl to stand up excitedly and try to waddle her way to her dad.

“dada! dada!” she says as she hurriedly stumbles and waddles her way to him.

satoru kneels down on the ground, opening his arms widely as he grins, “yes, dada! come to dada, baby!”

successfully, the girl stumbles into satoru’s arms and giggles as he peppers her face with kisses.

he looks up to you with a pout, shifting d/n into one arm, “excuse me, but I would like my two favorite girls to be in my arms, right now!”

you chuckle and settle into his embrace and he presses a kiss to the top of her head and your own.

d/n gives him a kiss—more like simply put her mouth on his cheek—and nuzzles into his chest. satoru grins before looking at you, “she is so cute!”

you quip with a big smile, “I got that on video!”

“you and your gorgeous mind,” he hums as he kisses your cheek.

NANAMI KENTO:

“kento, you’re going to grow grey hair early like this.”

honestly, you can’t blame him for worrying like this. you were finally going on vacation, so your husband wanted everything to be organized.

the last thing he needs is a headache after he finally got rid of the walking one (read: gojo).

he sits down, sighing, “I know; I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

you chuckle, and settle down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “don’t worry,” you say, “we checked everything over a million times. nothing will go wrong.”

nanami smiles tiredly before pulling you into a gentle kiss, “well, I guess you’re right,” he looks around for a moment, “where is d/n?”

“she is playing with her toys on the mat; why?”

“she is not on the mat.”

“she is not on the what?!” you yell, bolting out of your seat and frantically searching for her, “d/n, honey, where are you?!”

“y/n, calm down!” your husband tries to comfort you, “she is still in the house, so don’t stress about it; we will find her.”

as if on cue, a giggle and a coo are heard behind nanami. he turns to find the culprit, his 10 months old girl grinning. she squeals and tries to walk towards him, hands eagerly reaching out for him.

she is stumbling a bit, and her steps are clumsy, and nanami couldn’t have been prouder.

he smiles fondly, “good girl, d/n,” he opens his arms, encouraging, “you can do it.”

she flails her arms as she giggles, “da-dada!”

d/n finally reaches his leg and holds onto it for dear life. she starts swaying as she looks up at him, “dada!” he bends down to kiss the top of her head.

she hums happily, before waddling towards you, worried, “mama?”

you breathe a sigh of relief and hold her in your arms, “you got me worried, baby,” you stroke her hair and she nuzzles into your embrace, little hands gripping your shirt tightly.

nanami lets out a chuckle as he watches your daughter starts to fall asleep in your arms.

he moves to hug you two, and hums with content, “and you say that I am the worrywart.”

GETO SUGURU:

“y/n, what makes you so sure that they will start walking soon?” your husband says as he watches his two little girls play in the garden.

he already had nanako and mimiko, but god chose to grace him with his own pair of twins.

he couldn’t be happier, especially with way the twins both care for each other and beam whenever they see him.

he also adores seeing them play with you; it brings a type of serenity to his heart.

you chuckle, “call it a mother’s instincts.”

suguru rolls his eyes and pulls you by the waist, “you showing off, pretty?”

“nope! just asserting dominance.”

with a roll of his eyes, he gives you a peck on the nose. the both of you then settle down on the grass as well, quietly watching the girls try to chase—wait what chase?

suguru and you lock eyes, and he quickly scrambles to get the camera. meanwhile, you’re trying to encourage the girls to continue their walking, “who’s winning, girls?”

each one of the stumbling babies yells out a—supposedly—‘me!’. they‘re both squealing as they walk around.

soon enough, suguru makes an appearance and starts recording, “I am gonna get you!”

the girls squeal and try their best to run away from the big bad monster.

the very cute thing that even has suguru pausing in his chase is that when one of them falls, the other waits for her or tries to help her up.

of course, the latter mostly results in both of them falling on their small little bums. luckily, they clumsily stand up instead of crying their eyes out.

they get tired eventually though, so they waddle their way to you. both of them sit beside you and rest their heads on your lap.

suguru stands in front of you, hands on his hips, “you leaving me out of this group cuddle?”

your twins perk up and turn their heads to peak at him and they giggle when he pouts. still, they open their little arms for their dad to join the family hug, “dada! hug!”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

your husband is not exactly the most enthusiastic father.

he wasn’t that affected by your son’s first word being dada, and a lot of things that you can’t be bothered to think about.

so yeah, you’re left with the role to be the encouraging parent, and to hype your son whenever he accomplishes something.

so obviously, your son adores you more than he does his father. however, there is no denying that sukuna’s genes are indeed strong.

despite the kid’s beaming smile, he could be choking a snake. it actually reminds you of that one hercules scene.

your son also has a quicker development than most kids, but it doesn’t lessen the excitement when he finally took his first steps.

you held onto sukuna’s arms, pointing at your boy, “sukuna, look, he is walking!”

“so?”

you pause then look at your husband, “what do you mean ‘so’?” you grin, “they’re his first steps, you silly goose!”

sukuna frowns, “I am not a silly goose,” he then rolls his eyes, “he was going to start walking sooner or later anyway, woman.”

you huff, “you’re no fun.”

however, you don’t get to dwell on it for much longer as you hear the scream of one of the servants. you and your husband are looking towards them, and—suffice to say—it’s a memorable scene.

your son, who just started walking, is somehow holding a wooden pickaxe and waddling his way behind the servant.

he is grinning and squealing too like he isn’t about to beat up an innocent person (it reminds you of something or rather someone).

the servant is surprisingly terrified form the kid as she screams, “my lady, please save me!”

you have no idea how a grown woman is terrified of a one year old, but you will give her the benefit of the doubt that he is, after all, the son of the king of curses.

you sigh with a chuckle and walk towards them, “on my way.”

the kid squeals, waddling quicker after the servant who’s about to shit her pants.

meanwhile, sukuna is smirking proudly as he watches his son, “now, that’s my kid.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[fairy-angel222]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—“i just wanna be one of your girls tonight,”

pairing: geto suguru x fem! reader

synopsis: you’ve had a crush on your brother’s best friend for a long time, and just wanted to have his attention at least once

content: smut, weed consumption, blowing smoke into your mouth, choking, fingering, mirror sex, praise

You would do anything for the attention of Geto Suguru. There was just something about him that you needed. Yes he was your brother’s best friend. And yes he was three years older than you. But that really meant nothing.

Your teeth bit down painfully on your bottom lip as you watched Geto flirt with an older girl. His signature smirk on his face as he leaned onto her locker, hands in his pocket with his lips moving in the sweetest words.

You wish it could’ve been you. The way she got shy, her face flushed red as she tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear with a perfectly manicured nail.

All you could do was watch with longing as his arm wrapped around her waist, her head on his side before they began walking the halls together. His smirk never faltered as he nodded along to her words.

Lucky. You thought to yourself, a tight lipped smile painted on your face.

You finished packing away your books, slamming the metal blue door shut before making your way to class. You’d always be his best friend’s little sister.

“Fuck- sorry..” you trailed off as you looked up to find his eyes staring back down at you. A smile on his face and his eyebrow raised as broad hands held onto your waist to steady your frame. “Language sweetheart. And careful now, wouldn’t want Gojo to kill me, would we?” he teased.

Your mouth opening and closing with no words escaping. “U-uh y-eah, well n-no, i mean no.” So fucking embarrassing.

Geto only chuckled, shaking his head in amusement then walking off with a grin. “Bye little Gojo.”

There he goes with that stupid nickname again.

…

The day goes by with nothing on your mind. Well, except Geto of course. He would be coming over to your house later to hang out with your brother. And as always, they would have girls over.. and you weren’t invited as Gojo put it.

Leaving your classroom, you passed by your locker to collect your things. Swinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way to the school’s doors. “Hey y/n,” a deep voice called. Turning around to see Geto jogging up to you with a girl’s arm hooked around his. A brunette this time.. great.

“Yeah?”

“Gojo asked for me to take you home, so you’re stuck with me.” He stated, winking jokingly before draping his arm over your shoulder as he walked you and his girl of the day to his vehicle.

If only he knew what that mere gesture did to you.

You took a seat in the back of his vehicle. Awkwardly watching as his hand squeezed the thigh of the girl in the passenger’s seat, massaging her skin until she was looking at the side of his face with nothing but want.

You blinked your attention away from them, resting your head back and looking out the car window instead. The ride to your house was silent apart from the girl’s constant giggling. And you kept your focus on anything but them, missing the way Geto glanced back through the rear view mirror. His head tilted and a small smile on his face.

She’s jealous, cute.

…

“We’re here,” Geto announced.

Walking into the house and greeting your brother in a hug before flopping down on the couch with his girl on his lap.

Gojo had his own blonde sat next to him, her legs on his lap as she played with his hair. “Hello little sister, not even gonna greet your favorite big brother hello?”

You gave a short wave before going up to your room, locking the door shut before flopping onto your bed. You wanted him.. so bad.

Maybe if you were just two years older.. granted, 18 and 21 wasn’t even that bad.. but maybe he would watch you then.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you heard loud music fill the house, the group most likely beginning their drinking and make out session by now.

Grabbing your phone, you plugged in your earphones. One of The Girls by the weeknd blasting through your ears as you let your mind wander. Geto, his hands, on your body.

You let out a soft whimper as you allowed your hand to roam to your chest, squeezing your tits and rolling your nipples between your soft fingertips.

“Mmm..” you moaned, imagining his hand instead of yours as you trailed it lower, slowly pulling down your pants and letting it slip inside the white lace of your panties. “Fuck.. Suguru,” your fingers rubbed along the line of your slit, teasing your clit before you finally allowed them to dip into your wetness.

“A-ah, so good,” you threw your head back into your pillow, thrusting your fingers in and out of your dripping heat with desperation. Trying your hardest to curl them to reach that good spot. Almost there.

“Fuck.” you yelled out in frustration, they were not enough. You needed his. His long, veiny fingers.. you needed them in you, around your neck, squeezing at your flesh. Anything.

Sighing loudly, you stood up. Walking over to the door of you and your brother’s shared master bathroom. You would usually knock. But he and his friends were clearly getting drunk— and high, downstairs. So there was no need.

Pushing the door open, your eyes widened at the sight of Geto leaned over your counter. A blunt between his lips as red eyes stared at you through the mirror, his face drenched with water.

“A-am sorry, I thought it was e-empty.” you rushed out, your thighs clenching as you watched his muscles flex as he gripped the counter’s edge even harder.

“Wait,” he called out, stopping you mid track from closing your side of the door. “Come here.”

You gulped hard, shakily walking over to him. “Y-yeah?” Geto smirked, “you know, it’s cute how flustered you get around me.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up, your brain scrambling to find something to say. Geto only chuckled, “wanna try?” holding the blunt out in your direction. “I.. I don't think Gojo would like that.”

He shrugged, “I won’t tell.” Before stalking over to you and backing you up against the counter. You yelped as his arms hooked under your thighs, swiftly lifting you onto the counter top before situating himself between your legs.

Geto’s fingers hooked onto your chin, your eyes meeting his as he lifted your head towards him. “Open.” You did as told, parting your lips and watching as he took a hit, blowing the smoke into your open mouth before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

Your stomach burned with heat, your pussy drenched as his lips found your neck. You let out a soft moan, your hands wrapping around his neck while your fingers tugged at the back of his hair. “What about your girlfriend downstairs?” you spoke between moans.

“Not my girlfriend.” he reassured “And tonight’s all about you.”

You were in heaven, it was even better than you imagined.

Setting the rolled paper down, Geto helped you remove your shirt, pinching your nipples and twisting them softly just to hear you moan. “You sound so pretty.”

Geto hurriedly peeled off his shirt, his abs on display making you bite your tongue. “Touch them.”

“W-what?”

“Go ahead, touch them.” Grabbing your hands and placing them on the hard muscles.

You could only whimper when Geto pulled your pants off of you, his eyes going dark at the sight of the white lace covering your pussy.

He looked down at you with a look of confirmation, you looking up at him through long lashes as you nodded. “Please.”

That was all he needed, ripping the flimsy material off of you and admiring your glistening cunt. His fingers found your wetness, rubbing up and down before sinking them into you. A loud moan escaping your lips making his eyes widen.

“Shhh, don’t wanna get caught do you.”

Geto’s free hand made its way up to your mouth, muffling your mewls as he curled his fingers up into you. Perfect. They were hitting inside you so good, and you allowed yourself to moan his name over and over into his palm. His eyes never leaving yours as he fingered you dumb.

Your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung open, drool coating his hand as you rocked back and forth on the marble top. It was happening, it was actually happening.

“Is this what you wanted baby? This what you been waiting for?”

You nodded, your eyes teary as the pads of his fingers pressed into your g spot with every thrust. Your legs hooked tightly around his waist, your toes curling as you began to tremble.

“Cum for me,” he whispered in your ear, hot tongue making you moan out as he nibbled on your lobe. You could only let out a soft cry as you clenched down on his fingers, rocking your hips onto his hand and fucking yourself through your high.

Geto watched in pure lust as you came, your glassy eyes looking up at him before shutting in pleasure, your head falling back as you met your release. You looked like a fucking angel in his eyes. And he wanted nothing more than to be the demon to corrupt you.

“Good girl.” he smirked.

You smiled, your eyes trailing to the blunt once more, making Geto’s smirk grow impossibly wider. Picking it up and bringing it to your plump lips. “Inhale... there we go. Now let it sit.. and exhale.” he coaxed, “You like that?”

Your head felt so dizzy, intoxicated even. And you nodded, watching as Geto took his own hit before blowing it out onto your face.

His fingers were dripping with your slick, and he brought them up to his mouth with a smug smile. Using his tongue to lick up your sweetness before connecting his lips to yours again. The kiss was hard, sloppy, and you moaned loudly into him.

Pulling away, Geto flipped you over. Using his knee to spread your legs apart and push your chest down onto the cold marble. You let out a needy whine, meeting his eyes in the mirror as his hand wrapped around your neck. The other lining his cock up with your hole. He let out a choked groan as he eased into you. A loud moan being drawn past your lips.

“S-so tight, fuck.” Geto’s lips parted in a loud groan, using his now free hand to pin both your smaller hands behind your back. “Beg me.. beg me to ruin you.”

You let out a broken cry. “P-please Geto.. please fuck me, ruin me, anything. ‘M all yours.”

You let out a string of high pitched noises when he began slamming his hips into yours. His tip piercing deep into you with every thrust.

“F-fuck, y-you’re.. s-so,” you let out a broken mewl, “so d-deep.” Geto tightened his hold on your neck, lifting your head slightly to force your eyes to stay on his. A deep growl sounding in his throat when you closed them.

“Look at me when i fuck you.” he demanded, your eyes shooting open and meeting his immediately.

Your mouth hung open in a small o. Soundless cries filling the room as you watched your body jerk forward with each movement of his hips.

You were so tight around him. Even tighter than he had imagined. And he couldn’t help the moans leaving his own mouth as he destroyed your pussy.

“Does that feel good? Does my cock feel good inside you baby?”

You nodded with a whimper, your breathing heavy as you were forced to watch yourself be fucked dumb.

“Words sweetheart.”

“Y-yes, it feels s-so good Suguru.”

“That’s my girl.”

You could feel your legs going weak, your knees trembling as you were fucked into the counter. “Nngh- Sugu,” you moaned, a smirk on his face as he thought back to mere minutes ago when you were moaning his name from your bed. Now you didn’t have to imagine, he was right there.

“‘M so close,” you mewled.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess for me? Show me how much you wanted this?”

His back hunched as he flattened his chest against you, the position allowing him to hit deeper than you thought was possible.

“F-fuck,” you cried out, your eyes widening with tears as you felt his dick fucking you so deep, so good. The pleasure was too intense. The coil in your stomach painfully ready to snap.

“Look at how good you look when you fall apart on my cock. Come on baby— cum for me again.” He encouraged as he rolled his hips up into you, forgetting about being quiet as he relished in your loud moans and cries. You sounded so pretty for him. And for him only.

A loud scream fell past your lips when his dick hammered against your g spot. Your legs shaking uncontrollably as you began to gush around him. Eyes rolling back as you basked in the pleasure from your high.. the highest you’d ever been.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he dragged out, breathing getting heavy and his thrusts sloppy as he gave your pussy its final thrusts.

“Wish i could fill you up more than anything. Fuck, wanna make you mine. Wanted to for so long.” he moaned, voice cracking slightly as his abs tensed.

Geto groaned, pulling out of you before spilling his cum onto your ass, his head thrown back as he let rope after rope fall onto your plush flesh.

Strong hands held you up before you collapsed, holding you tight against him as he breathed heavily into your back. Your chest heaving in an attempt to steady your own breathing.

Your heart clenched as your eyes trailed over the scene in the mirror. You, Suguru.. together, sweat coating both of your skins.

Geto’s voice was soft as he mumbled, “Want you so bad.. need you to be mine. I can’t wait anymore.”

Your heart rate sped up as you felt your tears at the brink of falling. This wasn’t a dream. “I— I..” you were at a loss of words.. he wanted you too.

“It’s okay, I know. You don’t quite make it discreet.” he joked, pulling you into a tight hug and placing a kiss onto your head.

Geto cursed, letting out a long sigh and picking up the still lit blunt. Taking a puff before releasing it above your head. “What the fuck am i supposed to say if Gojo finds out.”

Oh yeah.. your brother. He would most definitely not approve.

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. A very drunk Gojo slurring, “Yo Suguru? You in there? I need to piss.”

Geto only shook his head with a silent laugh. While you, you couldn’t be bothered. You had him. You actually had him. Suguru was yours. And you weren’t just one of his girls. You were his girl.