#I might or might have not threatened to throw it out the window at one point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunnami · 4 months

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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

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yoongis-black-grilfriend · 1 month

Text

Mothers Night Out

Warnings: SMUT, oral, lactation, toxic! rafe, car sex, penetrative sex, and breeding.

Ring Ring Ring

The sound comes blaring as you're face down in your pillow, head pounding a mile a minute. The ringtone continues to jingle you answer and put the phone to your ear.

“Hell-” You try to answer before the voice on the other line starts, “Why the hell am I over here watching our children while you're running around as if you don’t have any responsibilities in life?” The voice quickly cut in as you rolled your eyes.

“Rafe, it was one night out, what are you on about-” You were cut off again, the man on the other line not wanting to hear that. “NO, you told me that you were going to hang out with friends; NOT those fucking pogues and you know that”.

“Those pogues are my friends.” You start to say before he cuts you off, in his frustration.

“I don’t care. Get ready” he snapped. Before you could say anything else, the dial tone reached your ears as you sat up in the bed you were lying in, which happened to be John B's.

Ever since you became a mother you were dedicated to taking care of your children trying to be the best mother you could be for your little girls. You sacrificed everything for them, including your well-being. Your friends thought it would be a good idea to hang out last night since you have yet to have the time to genuinely hang out just as a group. Last night was fun. You all piled in John B’s living room playing drinking games and catching up on everything social that you might have missed.

“How are you doing in here sleepy head?” JJ leaned up against the door with a smile. “My head is killing me” You respond, messaging your head. “Well sorry to break it to you but your baby daddy is outside, so your hell awaits you”

“Ha ha, you are so funny.”

Gathering your things you throw a pillow at his head which he dodges with a smirk. “Kiss the girls for me!” He yells behind you as you make your way towards John B's door. “Will do!”

Wanting to say goodbye to everyone else you were met with disappointment as they were all still asleep. Walking out the door you are met with the father of your children leaning against a black truck with your door already opened.

Climbing into the truck, you close the door with Rafe following behind you. Looking behind you, you expect to see your baby girls in the back but you just met with their car seats. Looking to Rafe you ask. “Where are Whisper and Clover?” Looking at you he shakes his head.

“They're with Rose since you want to act like they don't exist.” “Rafe please don’t do this for the past six months I have been held up in the house” you breathe in, tears threatening to fall. “Taking care of our girls day in and day out so please don't act like me hanging out with my friends for one night makes me a terrible mother”

Regret flickers across his face as he reaches across the armrest and he takes your face in his hands, expression softening. “I didn't know you felt this lovely, I’m sorry I treated you that way. I was just upset because I thought you didn't want to spend any time with me.”

Moving his hands under your skirt to your thighs you gasp as his fingers barely graze your skin. His touch sends shivers down your spine and Rafe notices this with a smirk on his face. “Have I been neglecting you, baby?” He teases.

Pulling your legs apart, his tongue runs along your inner thighs while your breath starts to get shallow, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Please Rafe” You gasp as he continues sticking his tongue out it quickly dips into your folds, your head hitting the car window. His tongue moves at a regular pace while you feel your skin getting inflamed with the pleasure that you are receiving from your core.

Moving his head from side to side he groans as he pulls your hips impossibly closer to his face. “C'mon baby give it all to me.” “Ohhh fuck.” you groan, your body trembling with desire, as he pulls his head closer in between your legs your stomach starts to form a knot.

“Please- please don't stop” you begged, Rafe moaning into your pussy as you started to shake with your heels digging into his back. “I’m cumming, fuck!’ Crying out your back is arched as your white spot starts to blur your vision. Waves of pleasure begin to wash over you through your climax.

“Get in my lap lovely” Rafe murmurs. Blinded by the orgasm you just had you let him guide you into his lap, with his pants unzipped and his length hard as you feel it nudge your walls as you place your hand on your shoulders.

Bending his head he latches his mouth to your nipple gripping your hips as the sweet taste of your nectar fills his mouth greedily taking it in as he moves his cock inside of you as you slowly move back and forth on his lap.

Detaching his lips he attaches his mouth to yours and as you inhale the slight sweet taste of your milk you take his tongue in your mouth. His hips match your rhythm with the car moving side to side due to the impact of Rafe's thrust, each one bringing us closer to the edge.

“You are perfectly lovely please make me cum, inside of you let me give you another baby please!” he begs, tightening his hold on your hips. “Give me another daddy cum deep inside of me!” Gasping for breath, you wrap your arms around his neck burying your head in his shoulder. your orgasm splashing between the two of you, as Rafe’s cum fills you up.

With your mind in its dizzy state, Rafe guides you back to your seat buckling your seatbelt and finally pulling out of the chateau.

*Ding* The notification sound draws you to your phone and your face turns red with the message you read as Rafe busts out with laughter after reading the message on your phone.

JJ🦾:”I hope you know WE all saw that…“

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saturnsorbits · 4 months

Text

LiSyK: The Selection

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Suggestive. Word Count: 1.6k.

Summary: Closing in on his 20th name day, tradition dictates that Prince Bakugo choose his first concubines.

A/N: This might become a series, but don't hold your breath.

'I don't want a fucking -.'

Grabbing her son by the cheeks, Mitsuki Bakugo fixes the young prince still with a cold stare. 'You will do as you're told.'

'But -'

'It is tradition, Katsuki. Not even your ego is large enough to put an end to that.' She smirks before releasing her hold and wipes a hand on the left hip of her dress. 'Now, come on... You're late.'

Huffing, Bakugo tugs at his shirt to smooth the wrinkles left by his mother, but follows on her heels obediently. Usually, he'd put up more of a fight, throw a proper tantrum, but the pit of curiosity growing in his stomach stops him making too much fuss. He's fucking human, after all. Of course, he's going to be at least a little interested in the collection of concubines that had been assembled specifically for his perusal.

That didn't mean he had any intention of choosing any of them, though.

The doors of the main hall seem more daunting than usual, but Bakugo hides his trepidation well.

Or so he thinks.

Mitsuki's hand touches softly on his shoulder, guiding him, not through the main hall, but down the corridor. She offers out her elbow, letting him cling to her as they continue to drift closer to a small, more intimate, service room.

The marble clicks under their shoes, the sound amplified endlessly as it rings behind them announcing their arrival. Large windows scatter light, bringing out the red in both Bakugo and his mother's eyes as they pass the selection of special guards already stationed outside the room. All seven of them, five sworn to his mother and two to him, are dressed from head to toe in royal finery with the lightest of chain mail glittering over their chests. Swords hang from their hips, but Bakugo knows there are much more deadly weapons hidden under their clothes and tucked away from prying eyes.

Captain Aizawa, one of Mitsuki's most trusted knights bows low when they reach the door.

Reaching out, Mitsuki presses a hand to his shoulder and pushes him straight again. 'Enough of that, you'll put your back out.'

Aizawa's mouth moves to argue, but Mitsuki doesn't allow his voice to summon a sound.

'Shouta, you have more than earned the right not to bow.' She chides in a way that makes goose-flesh break out on the other guards, but the Captain simply laughs.

'Is the prince ready, My Lady?'

Mitsuki's hand wraps around her son's bicep giving him a firm squeeze. 'Oh, you know him. Dragged here kicking and screaming.'

Bakugo scowls.

'But, I'm sure he'll manage.'

Another guard, tall and broad in the shoulders with a close crop of dark hair and a booming voice clears his throat. 'If I may speak out of turn, Captain?'

'You will not Yoarashi.'

Mitsuki waves him off. 'Oh, let the boy speak Shouta.'

The guard, Yoarashi, smiles. His teeth are too big for his mouth, but somehow there's still something strikingly handsome about him. Bakugo hates it. 'The consorts have outdone themselves this time, I've never seen a more stunning array of -.'

Captain Aizawa silences his guard with a raised hand. 'That's quiet enough, I think the Queen understands your sentiment.'

'Quite.' Mitsuki smiles, locking a chuckle behind her teeth. 'Speaking of the wonderful job my husbands consort has done, I think it's time to see what Inko has found for us, don't you, Katsuki?'

Bakugo nods, it's all he ca manage with the nerves threatening to make his knees wobble like some common whore. His jaw is tight, teeth clenched in his mouth, but it soon looses as he the doors are thrown wide and he's allowed to step into the room.

Inside the room is dark, the thick red curtains covering the windows putting an end to any natural light that should attempt to slink inside. Instead, the room is illuminated by a series of high torches that cast a godly glow about and perfectly highlighting the row of people stood across the centre of the room.

At once, Inko is upon them. She wraps chubby arms around Bakugo without a second thought and greets his mother with a warm kiss to her hand when offered. Following at her heel is Izuku, her darling son. 'Brother.' Izuku smiles.

'Half Brother.' Bakugo spits the former piece of his sentence, enjoying the way it feels between his lips – the distance it offers him from the man before him. They're the same age. Both Mitsuki and Inko had been pregnant at the same time and the boys born mere months apart, although Inko had done the chief portion of the nursing; especially when Mitsuki's milk had dried up. Something that had lead both women to an unlikely friendship.

'I heard you've outdone yourself this time.' Mitsuki pulls at Bakugo, steering him around to the front of the room.

Bakugo's eyes wonder. There's a conversation flowing in the air around him, but he pays no heed. How can he, when the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on is looking directly at him.

The man lifts his head. He is bare to the waist with only the smallest piece of cloth to cover his dignity. If Bakugo where to walk around him, which he just might, he'd bet he'd be able to see his ass in all it's glory.

He has red eyes, violent carnelian, that pierce right to Bakugo's soul and red hair that is tied neatly in a bun atop his head. Licking his lips when he catches the princes' eye, the man smiles, flashing a row of blade-like teeth that threaten to bring Bakugo to his knees.

'Did you hear?' Mitsuki pats Bakugo's lapel.

He didn't, but he nods anyway.

His eyes slip further down the line, silently comparing each concubine to the next, but no-one compares to the red-eyed man until his eyes are blessed by you.

You're near the end, stood beside two others that don't even come close to your beauty with your chin tilted to the floor and your hands clasped neatly before you. Like the others, you're dressed in almost nothing, but it's the bright red 'V' painted onto your skin across the top of your breast bone that has him pausing.

He's seen the mark before and a cursory glance back down the line tells him exactly where. The red head, amongst two or three others, also bare the mark.

Bakugo swallows.

Already he can feel his breeches tightening uncomfortably.

'How many?' He snaps, forcing his eyes from the line and onto Inko.

She blinks. 'Pardon?'

'How many... For my... For my harem?'

'Oh. Most choose at least six to begin with, but after that is custom to add another concubine for each year until you reach 29. Sometimes other kingdoms will offer then as gifts, but you're more than welcome to dismiss -.'

Bakugo raises his hand. 'I don't want a history lesson.'

'Oh, I -.' Inko blushes.

'Brat, watch your tongue...' Mitsuki raises her hand to crack him across the back of the head, but the prince side steps her assault easily.

'I want that one...' He points at you, eyes narrowed and hungry before he turns, pointing at the red haired man at the other end of the room. 'And him. That's all.'

Mitsuki's brow furrows. 'Two? Inko here scourers the kingdom for the finest it had to offer and you choose only two?'

Bakugo folds his arms. He can feel your eyes, the red-heads too, burning through his skin. It makes him hot, makes him wonder what it'll be like when your eyes grow heavy, when they're spotted with ears and your mouths are full of his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

Clearing his throat, he tries to readjust his breeches.

He won't have to imagine soon. No, soon, you'll be his.

'Have them brought to my rooms tomorrow.' Turning on his heel he shouts over his shoulder before storming from the room before his cock begins to soak into his breeches.

Tomorrow, he thinks as soon as the doors slam shit behind him.

That should give him enough time to fist himself stupid to the thought of red eyes and glittering skin.

Hopefully, that would stop him making a fool of himself at the first meeting.

Bakugo already looks bored when you're brought into his rooms at noon the following day. The door closes behind you, a guard having performed the customary introductions, and all too quickly you're swallowed by the nerves that climb up your body and twist around your lungs.

Adjusting his seat, Bakugo pulls a foot up onto his chair and spreads his knees. A bark leaves his chest that he hopes is harsher than it feels. 'I don't fuck virgins...'

You hear the wet click of Kirishima's throat from beside you in the silence of the room. Even though the red ink is gone, the fact of your both being intact remains the same. 'Uhm, my lord... I mean – Prince Bakugo, I'm... I think there's been some mistake, we're – we're both -.'

'I know.' He waves his hand. Anticipation creates pins and needles in his thighs. Even if he wanted to fuck right now, he's not sure his body would hold out long enough. Maybe, five orgasms in the space of a day was too much.

'Well, you can see how this might be a problem then...' Twisting his knuckles around each other, Kirishima chews at his lip and forces a weak smile. It's strange how he makes six-foot of man look almost as small as you are, but he does it easily and blushes pretty to boot.

'How -.' He clears his throat. 'How are we supposed to serve you if -.'

'You're going to fuck each other, first.' He arches an eyebrow, drawling as if the solution to his little problem has been more than obvious. A smirk curls his lip. 'I'll watch.'

Next Chapter ->

-> Series Masterlist -> Full Masterlist

#bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #kiribaku x reader #saturnsorbits #saturnsuggests

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book-place · 1 year

Text

Never Grow Up

Warnings: slight mentions of child abandonment, violence, cursing, gunshot wound, weapons, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Batfamily x batsis!reader

*not my gif*

Summary: Your family might have grown over the years, but your bond always stayed the same

A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!

Inspired by: Never Grow Up by Taylor Swift

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Your little hands wrapped around my finger

Bruce looked down at you, only a couple weeks old, so tiny. So fragile. So innocent and unknowing to the horrors of the world.

You had woken up in the middle of the night, screaming and crying, so of course he had gotten up with you, especially after Jason threatened to throw you out of the window if you woke him up again.

Bruce couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Finally, after what felt like hours of crying and screaming, you seemed to calm down and you looked up at Bruce in an innocent wonder.

He reached down and began to adjust your shirt that had moved to an awkward angle with all of your squirming.

He paused when you reached up slowly and wrapped your hand around his index finger.

Ever since your mother had dropped you off here, claiming to Bruce that you were his daughter and she didn’t want to take care of you anymore, he had vowed he would do anything to protect you.

As he looked down at you with soft features, he couldn’t help but smile softly, “Hi, honey.” He whispered.

And it’s so quiet in the world tonight

It was weird.

All night you had been completely silent, no screaming, no crying.

While Alfred, Dick, and Bruce were all gratefully taking this opportunity to sleep without worrying about having to get up every five minutes, Jason on the other hand, didn’t like how quiet it was, it felt as if something was wrong.

As silently as he could, he snuck through the halls and into the nursery that Bruce had immediately had put in as soon as you showed up.

Don’t get him wrong, Jason didn’t like you at all. Nope. No way, no how. You were just an annoying baby that moved right into the manor not too long after him, which was only about a month ago.

He had still been in the process of adjusting to his new life, and then a baby was thrown into the mix, so if anything, he hated you.

As he opened the door and crept into your room, he didn’t really know what he was expecting. But he certainly wasn’t expecting you to be wide awake, just staring at the ceiling, not screaming and not crying like you always did whenever you were awake.

Even as you watched Jason approach you, you didn’t scream out and begin the waterworks that he was inevitably waiting for.

Pretty soon, Jason was standing right over you, staring down at you with just as much curiosity as you were to him.

Jason hesitated before slowly reaching down and gently picking you up.

All you did was stare up at him, and he continued to stare down at you.

Your little eyelids flutter cause your dreaming

Jason sat with four year old you on his lap, bouncing his knees up and down as you giggled every time you went up, almost flying in the air if it weren’t for his hands holding your sides, keeping you from going airborne.

Dick sat on the other side of Jason, secretly snapping a picture on his phone before turning his head back to the cartoon that the two had put on the tv for you. Though it seemed that they were enjoying it more than you were.

Bruce was out for the day with Alfred and they hesitantly trusted the boys to watch you, after a whole lot of begging on the younger ones' parts.

“Higher, Jay!” You called suddenly, still giggled.

The boy smiled slightly before bouncing you higher, causing Dick to look at the two of you nervously.

“You know, Jay, I think she’s going high enough.” He said, not taking his nervous gaze off of you, ready to leap forward at any moment if you were to fly out of his younger brother's arms.

He just shrugged, continuing to bounce you higher.

Fifteen minutes, and almost a heart attack, later, your giggled stopped and Jason’s leg slowed, and he looked down to see if you were okay, only to see you leaning against his chest with closed eyes and even breathing.

“Dickie,” Jason hissed, trying to get his older brother's attention.

He hummed in return, not looking away from the new cartoon.

“She’s asleep.”

That made Dick look over and he cooed over you in adoration.

“I think she’s dreaming.” Jason continued softly, watching you.

Dick nodded in return, snapping another photo.

So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

“No, daddy!” You screamed, running away from an exhausted looking Bruce.

“It’s way past your bedtime, honey.” He practically begged, just wanting to go and get a nap in before he had to go on patrol.

You ran around the dining room table again, forcing Bruce to try and go after you.

Jason walked into the room calmly sipping a cup of coffee, “Wow, B. The five year old is faster than you.”

“Shut up.” The order man grunted in return, “Or help me get her to bed.”

His adopted son pretended to think about it, “Nah, I’m good.” Before turning on his heel and going back the way he came.

Bruce grumbled under his breath, promising himself that he would give Jason an earful later about respect.

He stopped running when an idea came to his mind, “Hey, n/n. If you get ready for bed then I’ll give you a surprise.”

You slowed your running in curiosity and looked at your father, “What kind of surprise?”

Bruce shrugged, “Guess you're going to have to see.”

The curiosity that you were feeling got the best of you and you quickly ran up the many stairs and got into your pj’s and hopped in bed.

A couple seconds after, Bruce walked in with something behind his back, which made you crane your neck to try and see what he was holding.

He bent down at one of your outlets without saying anything, plugging something in with his back covering what he was doing, then stood up and flicked off the lights.

You looked at him in confusion before he said, “Look up.”

So you did.

The sight above you made you gasp, it was the bat symbol on your ceiling, from the nightlight that Bruce had just placed in.

Batman had always been your favorite Gotham vigilante and you told your family about it all of the time, though your two brothers constantly tried to tell you that Nightwing and Robin were way better.

Bruce was able to slip out of the room unnoticed as you continued to stare up at your ceiling, not taking your eyes off of it until they started to droop.

And pretty soon, you were peacefully asleep.

To you, everything’s funny

You waddled down the stairs, scurrying into the dining room with a large grin on your face, following the delicious smell of Alfred’s pancakes.

When you got there, you were greeted with the sight of your father, Alfred, your brothers, and even your new brother, Tim, who just joined you guys at the manor about two months ago.

Six year old you had been ecstatic to gain a new brother, thinking that you could get away with more than you could with your other brothers.

“Good morning, n/n!” Dick called cheerfully, rushing over and scooping you up in his arms before plopping you down into the seat next to his and across from Tim.

“Morning, Timmy!” You exclaimed excitedly, still in the phase of becoming joyful whenever you would see the new face.

He hummed lazily in return, head in his hand as if he was putting his entire weight into it against the table. There were dark circles under his eyes that insinuated yet another restless night for him.

Sitting in front of him was a bowl of cereal, barely touched, with a spoon resting in it.

Just as you were about to turn to your own breakfast, Tim’s arm fell under the weight of his head and his eyes were closed, making him fall face first into his bowl.

Everyone looked up in surprise as the boy shot straight up in his seat, now fully awake.

Before anyone could even ask if he was okay, you let out a loud laugh. You laughed and laughed and laughed.

You were laughing so hard that you had doubled over slightly against the table with your arms wrapped around your stomach, “Silly Timmy!” You exclaimed, pointing a finger at him in between giggles.

He grumbled under his breath, taking a napkin and harshly wiping milk off his face, “Glad someone finds it funny.”

You’ve got nothing to regret

Bruce stood before you with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows raised so high that they were lost in his hair.

“Care fo explain?” He asked sternly.

You shook your head back and forth quickly, trying to put your hand over your mouth as if it would hide your giggles, “No, daddy!” You cheered back, trying to keep up your innocent act.

“You’re six now, Y/n,” He reminded you, “You should start taking responsibility for your actions.”

“But I didn’t do it!” You protested, though your wide grin told a whole different story.

“I suppose the vase just fell over on its own then,” Your father said sarcastically.

You jumped on that story, nodding your head vigorously, “Yeah! It fell over on its own, daddy!”

He sighed, bending down and scooping you up into his arms, playfully poking your stomach, “You’re too stubborn for your own good…” He trailed off before snickering slightly, “I suppose you get that from me.”

I’d give all I have honey, if you could stay like that

“Jay Jay!” You cheered, immediately hopping into your elder brother's arms as soon as he exited the batmobile.

With a small chuckle, he caught you effortlessly before bringing you to a tight hug to his chest, “And how’s my favorite little sister doing this evening?” He asked jokingly.

You laughed loudly, shaking your head at his silly actions, “I’m your only sister!” You accused.

He pretended to think, “Hmm, is that so?”

Before you could try and reinforce that, Tim and Dick exited the vehicle as well, “Timmy! Dickie!” You cheered, causing Jason to scowl at the pair for pulling your attention away.

Dick squealed excitedly, rushing over and ripping you out of his grip and into his own, “N/n!”

Tim reached over and ruffled your hair slightly in affection.

“Daddy! Daddy!” If it was possible, your face lit up even more as your father appeared, shedding off his cowl and striding over to you.

“Hey there, honey.” He greeted with a small chuckle, gently removing you from his eldest sons grip and bringing you into his own, “Isn’t it a little past your bedtime?” He teased, playfully rubbing his nose against yours.

You giggled at the tickling feeling and pull back slightly, “Nuh uh, daddy! Grandpa said I can stay up to see you!”

“Is that so?” Bruce threw a playfully accusing glare to Alfred in the corner of the room, who held his hands up in surrender with a small smile, “Come on,” He huffed teasingly, “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Dickie!” You exclaimed, straining to look over your shoulder at the boy, “Airplane! Airplane!”

With a wide grin, the boy skipped over and carefully removed you from your fathers arms and laid you horizontally so that you could spread out your wingspan and pretend you were flying.

“We should call it the batplane,” Tim snickered.

“Batplane! Batplane!” You chanted in return.

Everyone’s eyes softened as they watched you laugh loudly.

Oh, darlin’, don’t you ever grow up

“Go fish!” You exclaimed sassily, giggling wildly at the feigned expressions of horror that your entire family wore all around the table.

Dick let out a fake groan, dropping his head into his hands, “How do you always win this game?”

You shrugged happily, humming slightly as you picked up the cards, “I’m awesome.” You giggled again.

“Who wants cookies?” Alfred entered the room with a soft smile, it widening slightly at the sound of all the children’s excited squeals.

Dick, Tim, and Jason all shot up out of their seats and began shoving and tackling each other to get to the tray of desserts first while Bruce just ran a hand down his face tiredly.

“Uh, uh, uh,” The older man calmly sidestepped the herd of boys, “Miss. Y/n gets the first one because she is not acting inappropriately.”

You giggled again at their groans of protest, happily reaching for a cookie and leaning up to plant a quick kiss on Alfred’s cheek, “Thank you!” You chirpped, plopping back down into your seat and munching on the treat.

Don't you ever grow up

“What is this thing?” Damian asked in disgust, looking down at your grinning form.

Bruce sighed, bending down and picking you up, you automatically wrapping your arms around his neck in return, “She is your little sister.” He introduced, “Y/n, this is your brother, Damian.”

“More brothers!” You cheered.

Damian scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “That thing is not my sister.” He declared stubbornly, turning a harsh glare your way.

“Don’t talk or look at her like that,” Your father scolded with a scowl, but your smile didn’t drop.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dami!” You giggled a little bit, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

“Damian.” He corrected through gritted teeth, “My name is Damian.”

“She’s your sister,” Bruce hissed at him, “You have to learn to deal with that.”

“Dami!” You giggled wildly, making Bruce tighten his grip on you so you didn’t slip out by mistake.

The boy glared at you in a way that promised danger until your father had to step away with you in fear of something actually happening.

“I know you don’t like it,” The man said softly, “But you’re gonna be staying with me at the manor now, and you’re going to have to get used to her.”

The young boy crossed his arms over his chest and began grumbling under his breath. Though, his glare did lessen a bit after those words.

Just stay this little

“What do you think you are doing?” It had been four weeks since Damian moved into the manor, and he had avoided you at all costs.

You whipped around with wide eyes, “Dami!” You squeaked in shock, looking up at your elder brother nervously, “I was just-“

“Have I not specifically informed you not to touch Titus?” He seethed, standing in his bedroom door menacingly.

You looked down guiltily and began shuffling your feet, dropping your hand that had been softly stroking the dog's soft fur from where he was perched on the bed, “I’m sorry,” You mumbled.

The boy scoffed with a roll of his eyes, “I do not want your pathetic apology.” He told you matter of factly.

“Titus is just such a sweet puppy,” You sadly looked up at the dog that had perked up in wonderment as to why you stopped giving him attention.

That made Damian pause, “Oh… yes. He is a good dog.” He replied hesitantly.

“Sorry for bothering you,” You mumbled again, trying to make your way past him.

“Wait,” He surprised both you and himself with his word, but you froze nonetheless, “I suppose it would not hurt for you to pet him for a few more moments.”

A wide grin broke out and your face and you automatically dashed back to the creature and began rubbing behind his ears excitedly.

“I love animals,” You began rambling happily, “They’re so adorable and sweet. I would like to have more pets, I need to tell daddy that we don’t have enough. Maybe I’ll get Jay Jay a snake, I think he’ll like one-“

For the first time, Damian looked at you in a different light. Instead of just seeing some eight year old nuisance, he finally saw a kid only a couple years younger than him that might possibly share some common interests. Maybe having you as a sister wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up

“Where are you?” Jason called in a sing-song voice, fighting off a smile as he pretended not to be able to hear your poorly muffled giggles.

He stalked down the long aisles of the bookcases in the library, where he had heard your little feet scamper off into during the beginning of the hide-and-go seek game.

Even though you were now ten years old, you weren’t any better at the game than you were at four years old, but Jason never had the heart to tell you that.

“Are you... over here?” He dramatically rounded one of the corners, raising his voice as he spoke even though he knew full well that you wouldn’t be there.

The sound of your laughter only increased at his failure and the smile grew on his lips as he strode closer and closer to your ‘hiding spot’.

“Now,” He mockingly thought out loud, “I wonder where she could be…”

Right on cue, he threw open a small closet that was tucked in between two bookcases, emitting a shrill shriek from your lips at the sudden brightness and your brother's face grinning down at you.

“Found ya,” He teased.

You laughed, “I wanna do it again, Jay!” You eagerly jumped up and skirted past him, “Count again!”

He chuckled, but placed his hands over his eyes and followed your instructions.

Don't you ever grow up

“And how was your day today, Miss. Y/n?” Alfred asked with a small smile, glancing over his shoulder to where you sat propped up on the counter, kicking your legs back and forth.

“It was good, I saw a puppy today!” You exclaimed excitedly, seemingly having waited for that very question so that you could share the good news.

“Did this puppy happen to live in this manor?” The man hummed in curiosity.

You shook your head back and forth, getting even more excited, “Nope! My teacher brought it into school today and his name is…”

Alfred just listened and nodded along with your joyful rambling, loving the way you got so excited about small things, even as you got older.

It could stay this simple

Many years ago, a tradition had started between you and your siblings that every Friday night before they went on patrol you would all have a movie night in your at-home theater.

Bruce had joined you that night and you were all lounged around on various different couches and chairs comfortably, watching whatever movie Damian had insisted upon watching.

Your father leaned back in his seat with a contempt sigh, grateful for some time to relax after a long day and what would surely turn into a long night.

The credits began rolling, and instead of hearing you and your siblings begin to chat loudly amongst yourselves, it stayed dead silent.

He quickly snapped his head over in alarm, only for his eyes to soften.

You were leaning your head against Dicks shoulder with his head on top of yours, sleeping soundly on a nearby couch. Tim, Damian, and Jason were also asleep on their nearby pieces of furniture.

A small smile tugged at the ends of the man’s lips and he stood up silently, he would let them all rest. He could survive one night without them.

I won't let nobody hurt you

“I’m gonna kill you!” Your classmate roared, reeling his fist back and getting ready to release it in your face.

Unwavering, you stood your ground with your arms in front of yourself protectively as you stared him down, completely unafraid.

He was a stereotypical mean boy jock that just so happened to make the wrong comment in front of you. And when you called him out on it, he had been less than happy. Everything quickly escalated from there into a full out fist fight outside after school.

Easily, you ducked and side stepped his pathetic attempt at a punch, sending him stumbling forward because he made the rookie mistake of putting all his weight behind it.

Reaching over, you socked him in the face in one swift motion, sending him flying back down.

“You bitch!” He cried, emitting some laughs from the onlooking crowd due to his embarrassed state.

Quickly, he got up and went to lunge at you.

“What is happening?” Damian’s voice made everyone freeze, your older brother having been able to intimidate everyone in the school.

The boy froze at the sound of the older boy and slowly turned towards him with wide eyes, paling even further at the sight of his glare.

“Sh-she-“ He tried to stutter out.

Damian paid him no mind, calmly turning to face you, “What happened?”

“He tried to hit me after I called him out for being an asshole,” You spit out.

Menacingly, your brother turned to said boy and the onlooking crowd held their breath in preparation for what was to come.

A fury seemed to set in the already embarrassed boys gut, because he let out a scream of rage and went to lunge at both of you this time.

“What the hell is going on here?” Yet another booming voice stopped all further action as none other than Jason Todd came stomping angrily through the crowd towards you and Damian.

If everyone was scared of Damian, then they were down right petrified of Jason.

Everyone in the school had heard the horror stories of when your brother ran amok in the halls and reeking havoc during his high school years.

Quickly, everyone scrambled away from the scene, except for the boy, whose collar Damian was holding onto.

“He tried to fight our sister.” The boy informed your older brother calmly.

“Is that so?” Jason turned to him with his eyebrows raised mockingly before he smiled in a similar manner, “We can’t have that, now can we?”

Won't let no one break your heart

“Where are you going?” It was an innocent question, simple even, but it still made you freeze in your steps nonetheless.

Slowly, you turned on your heel to face your brothers, who all now looked up from whatever they were doing in the living room to stare at you in curiosity.

“You look nice!” Dick chirped.

“Thanks,” You tried your best to keep your voice from wavering, failing.

Jason however, wasn’t as easily distracted as your eldest brother, “Where are you going looking so nice?”

From beside him, Tim raised an eyebrow, piecing it together pretty quickly. Unlike the rest of your brothers, who for the most part were slowly but surely getting it.

It was silent for a moment before Dicks eyes widened in horror and he shot to his feet, “You’re going on a date?” He shrieked in horror.

You blew out a huff of air, “It’s no big deal.”

“I beg to differ!” He had begun dramatically doubling over and hyperventilating.

Jason narrowed his eyes, “Who are you going on a date with?”

“A date?” Damian looked back and forth between everyone in confusion, “You all told me that she was only fourteen and therefore not allowed to go on one until she was much older.”

You threw your head back with a groan, “That’s not true! I am more than old enough!”

“We just don’t want you getting hurt,” Tim tried to reason calmly.

“You’re too young to date!” Dick sobbed, stumbling over and throwing his arms around you in a tight bear hug.

Jason stood, crossing the room and looking down at you sternly, “I agree with Dickie-Bird, I don’t think you should go on this date.”

“What do you even know about them?” Tim offered, “Probably not enough to risk going on a date.”

“I do too know enough about them,” You grumbled, prying Dicks arms off of you.

“Tell me their address right this minute and I will judge if they are worthy enough!” Your youngest older brother declared.

Everyone ignored him.

Jason sighed through his nose, “We just want what’s best for you,”

You softened at that, relaxing in Dicks death grip that was intended to keep you from leaving the manor, “I get that,” You reassured them, “But you also have to realize that I’m growing up. And with that comes different things. Like dates.”

All four of them hesitated, “I still don’t like this,” Tim said after a moment, “But youre right.”

“I want you to text me every five minutes so I know that you’re alright.” Jason said, immediately followed by sounds of agreement from the other three.

“No,” You groaned.

“Fine… every ten minutes.” Tim reasoned.

You stood there for a moment, contemplating his words before ultimately deciding that the only way you would be getting out of there anytime soon was to agree to their terms.

“Fine,” You sighed, “Dick. You have to let go of me.”

He just stood there for a moment, sniffling slightly, before hesitantly pulling away with a look for complete sadness overtaking his features.

“Guys, I’ll be fine,” You reassured them with a small smile before slowly backing away and walking out the door.

“She’s growing up,” Tim stated after a moment with a frown pulling at the ends of his lips.

And no one will desert you

“Hands in the air!” A voice boomed through the building, causing all festivities to halt in their places automatically, “We’re robbing this damn joint!”

Immediately, everyone in the room went to the ground with their hands raised, Jason dragging you down alongside him with a soft curse, “I told Bruce this charity gala wasn’t a good idea.” He muttered.

You locked eyes with your father and Damian, the only other two there, from across the room and he silently begged you with his eyes to do as the people said and stay down.

Multiple figures with masks and guns moved up and down the room, shoving anything expensive- looking enough into some sacks that they carried.

Your entire body tensed when one of the people froze in front of you, slowly looking down at you and your brother.

With wide eyes full of fear, you allowed your hand to latch onto your brother's wrist as he shifted his body to be between you and the man.

“Hey, get a load of this!” He called in a mocking way, “These are those Wayne kids!” Clearly he hadn’t noticed your father and other brother on the other side of the room.

A couple of his friends glanced over at him with nods, not stopping what they were doing.

“You reckon they’re worth anything if we take ‘em?” Another one called out, and you had to physically restrain yourself from letting out a whimper, all other gala guests smartly choosing to stay silent.

The first one shrugged and moved as if to grab you, causing Jason to immediately shoot to his feet with a glare that could put everyone in the room six feet under, “Don’t you dare touch her,” He warned dangerously despite the gun pointed to his chest.

Right on cue, the doors slammed open and in rushed none other than Dick and Tim, suited up as Nightwing and Red Robin, quickly taking over the situation and knocking out all the robbers.

Jason turned to you as guests began to scramble out, “Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

All you could do was nod, throwing your arms around him and burying your face in his chest. You had never been in as much danger as you had just been in that day. And it terrified you.

“You’re alright,” He whispered softly, rubbing your back comfortingly, “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

Just try to never grow up

“Shut up!” Jason snapped, elbowing Tim harder than necessary, making the boy stumble a bit from where he stood.

The younger of the two whipped around and glared at his brother, “Elbow me one more time.” He challenged through gritted teeth.

“You wanna go-“

“Alright, alright,” You got between the two with a huff, giving them each a small push apart, “Break it up, we have bigger things to worry about then you two breaking each other's faces.”

“Yes.” Damian agreed with narrowed eyes, “Wait until after we have surprised Pennyworth, like civil beings.”

Dick just kept on humming happily and mixing the ingredients for cookies in a large bowl that rested on the counter, “I can't wait to see the look on his face! Oh, this was such a good idea to surprise him for his birthday!” He gushed.

“Well, n/n is pretty good at coming up with plans,” Jason momentarily let his fight go and walked back to the bowl and carefully watched it.

“Here,” Tim walked over and picked up the bowl, “Let's bring this over here so we can-“

He cut himself off when his foot caught on the edge of the counter and he was sent stumbling forward, making the bowl tip over and land right on none other than Jason.

Silence rang through the kitchen as everyone froze in pace, mortified at what they had just witnessed.

Jason slowly turned his head up, “Why, you little-“

“Hey! Hey!” Dick scrambled forward and grabbed the arm Jason had begun winding up to punch Tim, “Let’s not get into this again. We can remake the dough-“

Using his other hand, Jason took a large handful of dough off of his shirt and flung it straight into Tim’s face, your eyes widening even more at the sight.

Next thing you knew, dough began flying every which way, hitting everyone in its path. Less than a minute passed before you were all covered head to toe with chocolate chips and unbaked cookie dough.

“What is-“

You all froze at the sound of Alfred’s voice, pausing a moment before all whipping in his direction. The older man was looking back and forth between all of you with slightly parted lips.

“Surprise?” You squeaked out.

Never grow up

You yawned, “This is more boring then the time we had to sit through dads speech about the importance of sleep.”

“Agreed,” Damian grumbled from beside you, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning down further into his seat, “I suppose father has a knack for talking for obnoxious amounts of time and not once making it of any interest to us.”

The two of you continued to stare at Bruce up on stage, giving a speech about one thing or another and trying not to fall asleep.

“If he tired dragging us to one more of these things,” You mumbled, eyes dropping slightly, “I say we pull a Jason and steal the tires off of his car.”

“Agreed.” Your brother grunted.

You're in the car on the way to the movies

“Movies! Movies! Movies! Movies!” You and your siblings all chanted in sync.

Bruce let out a tired groan, running a hand down his face as he pretended not to notice the way Alfred was chuckling slightly from the driver's seat.

“If you all keep being this loud, you’re going to get us kicked out of the theater again.” He reminded you tiredly.

Jason scoffed, “Don’t act like you can’t just buy the theater so that they can’t kick us out!”

“I can't keep doing that everytime one of you messes up.” Bruce stressed.

It was silent for a moment, then the chanting started again, twice as loud this time.

“Movies! Movies! Movies! Movies!”

And you're mortified your mom's droppin' you off

“Dad,” You grumbled, dropping your head into your hands, “I told you not to drop me off!”

Bruce looked over at you sternly, “Is this still about us being billionaires?” He questioned.

“I just don’t want people treating me any differently if they know!” You insisted.

Somehow, you had been able to keep it away from your new, out of school friends that you were the daughter of the Bruce Wayne. And you planned on keeping it that way.

“There’s no reason to be ashamed of who you are.”

“It’s not that I’m ashamed, dad,” You told him, “I just don’t want them being nice to me just because we have a lot of money.”

That made him pause, and after a moment, he pulled over to the side of the road.

You show him an appreciative look and quickly leaned over and placed a quick kiss on his cheek before hopping out of the car, “Thanks, dad! I love you!”

He smiled softly, “I love you too, sweetie. Have fun.”

At fourteen, there's just so much you can't do

You threw your head back with a groan, causing Tim to glance over at you sympathetically, “This is so stupid!” You complied with a grumble.

“I know,” He agreed.

“Why do I even have to do this?” You crossed your arms tightly over your chest and sunk farther down into the chair you sat in at a desk in the batcave.

“Cause it’s homework and getting an education is good for you,” The boy hummed.

“Easy for you to say,” You scoffed, “You’re naturally smart. You don’t have to worry about this.”

He sighed, moving his chair over next to yours, “Alright, what do you need help with?”

You perked up immediately, face lighting up like a Christmas tree, “Yes, yes, yes! You’re the best brother ever!” You gushed.

“I said I would help you, not do it for you.” He warned and you waved a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, yeah, same difference.”

And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest, “Don’t act as if they didn’t start when they were way younger than me!”

Bruce rubbed his hands down his face in frustration, “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to be like them.”

“I don’t!” You protested angrily, “I want to be like them! I want to help people!”

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, “This is not up for discussion, Y/n.” He told you firmly, “It’s too dangerous.”

Your mouth dropped open and you gaped at him, “Too- too dangerous?” You seethed, “So it’s alright for my brothers to go out every night fighting crime as this city vigilantes with you, but not if I do it?”

“Yes!” He finally snapped, “Yes, alright? I don’t want you getting hurt! I will not let you go out there and risk your life every night. The- the boys have their reasons for doing it, but you don’t have any reason. I need you to stay here. Safe.”

You recoiled slightly at his words, “You think I can't handle it?” You whispered.

His head shook back and forth again, “That's not what I said, and you know it. You can handle yourself, I just don’t want you to need to.”

“I want to help people!” You insisted desperately.

“Help them in a different way.” His tone was final, leaving no more room for discussion, “Because I will not let you fall into this life. I couldn’t stop them from joining, but I sure as hell will stop you.”

You stared at him for a moment in an eerie silence before turning on your heel and storming out of the room, slamming the door shut harshly behind you.

Bruce flinched slightly at the noise and dropped his head into his hands.

But don't make her drop you off around the block

“I just don’t want them seeing the car.” You tried to reason, using your fathers excessive amount of money as an excuse.

“You sure about that?” Jason turned his head from the passenger seat with a smirk, “Sure you’re not just embarrassed of me and Dickie-Bird?”

You groaned, sinking further into the backseat and burying your head in your hands, “Please just drop me off around the corner.”

Your brother feigned worry, “But how will we know that you got to the movies safe, then?”

Dick snickered slightly, but pulled over where you asked nonetheless, “Come on, Little Bird. I know you used to hate this just as much as she does.”

“But we love you!” Jason teasingly called as you hurriedly exited the vehicle and slammed the door with more force than necessary, fear of someone hearing him taking over.

Their laughter did follow you all the way through the doors of the cinema, though.

Remember that she's gettin' older too

“What is it- what happened?” A look of complete horror and desperation painted your features.

You had just been getting ready to turn in for the night when you had heard a lot of commotion coming from the batcave, which was rare considering your family wasn’t normally back from patrol for at least another four hours. And even then, they always stayed as quiet as they could as to not wake you.

Alfred sighed immediately moving to gently grasp onto your arms, “Master. Bruce was shot, but-“

“Dad was shot?” You looked like you were about to throw up, but you tried to stumble past Alfred to go farther into the cave, nonetheless, shaking off his grip.

He gently reached out and grabbed you by the shoulders, trying to halt all further movements from you, “But he’ll be fine,” He continued his previous sentence reassuringly, “And I don’t think it’s wise for you to have to see him like that. He wouldn’t want you to see him like that.”

“B-but-dad-he-“ You began to become overwhelmed as you frantically stuttered things out, trying and failing to form a coherent thought.

“He’s right, n/n,” You hadn’t even noticed Dick approach the two of you until he was right in front of you and speaking.

Your head snapped over to your oldest brother, taking in his soft expression as he gently tried to urge you to calm down.

Vigorously, you shook your head back and forth and pushed away from both of them, heading straight for the room you knew they all went to whenever one of them was injured.

You pushed the door open, ignoring the way Tim shot out of his seat beside Bruce’s bed as you did so, your breathing becoming a shaky and uneven pace.

Bruce slowly moved his head to look at you, and when he did, his eyes turned sad in a way you grew to despise, “N/n-“

“Are you okay?” You asked in a panic-filled tone, rushing over to his side.

A blanket lay over his body so you couldn’t see where he was shot, “Yes, I’m fine.” He had the audacity to chuckle.

“This isn’t funny.” You snapped, “How is this at all funny?”

He quieted for a moment, neither of you paying any kind of attention as Tim slipped out of the room after giving you a small squeeze on the shoulder.

“You’re right, it’s not. I’m sorry.”

For the first time in your life, your father looked small to you, weak. He was always strong and determined, sure. But never had you seen him look like he did now. And it scared you.

“Dad-“ You hadn’t even realized when tears had began to roll down your cheeks, but they did and you tried to bite your bottom lip to stop sobs from slipping through.

“Come here,” He prompted softly, and you didn’t hesitate.

You rushed over to his side and fell into the chair Tim had previously been sitting in, your hand shooting out and holding onto his tightly.

“I-I don’t want to see you hurt,” You admitted tearfully.

“I know, I know.” He reached his other hand over and softly moved a piece of fallen hair out of your face, “I hate having you see me like this.” He paused, “But I would hate seeing you like this even more.”

Your eyes shot up, “Dad-“

“You know how you feel about me being like this?” He continued, “I would feel ten times worse if it was you out there instead of me, that’s the reason I don’t want you out there. Because I wouldn’t be able to handle it if something were to happen to you.”

Silence fell over the two of you like an uncomfortable blanket for a minute before you slowly nodded your head, “Okay,” You whispered, “Okay, I’ll stop trying to go out with you guys. But only if you promise that all of you will be safe. That’s the only reason I ever wanted to go in the first place, to make sure you guys were all alright.”

He squeezed your hand in appreciation, “I promise you, n/n, we’ll all be safe.”

And don't lose the way that you dance around in your PJs getting ready for school

You sang loudly to the song playing over the speaker as you spun back and forth along the kitchen floor, packing your lunch for the day.

Perhaps the music was too loud, or you were too much in your own world, because you didn’t even notice the way your brothers all crowded in the doorway, laughing quietly at your antics.

Naturally, Dick had his phone out and was recording the moment that no doubt would be used as blackmail later, but none of them could shake the soft smiles they felt unconsciously growing on their faces at the sight of it.

You looked so young and carefree, like you were five again.

Oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up

“They’re really beautiful,” You admitted with a dreamy sigh, leaning further back into your seat to look up at the sky filled with thousands of stars in complete wonder.

Your father hummed in agreement from beside you, “They are.”

About a week ago, you had been complaining to him that you were hardly ever able to see any stars at night due to the bright city lights, so he decided to surprise you by taking a night off of patrol and bringing you up, over the clouds in the batplane to see them. Just the two of you.

“I can’t believe that I’m seeing them this close,” Your wide, full of wonder, eyes were yet to tear away from the devastatingly beautiful scene.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, each observing the various constellations at your own pace.

“Dad?” The man’s head lulled to the side to find you already looking at him, “Thank you.”

He smiled softly, leaning over and gently kissing your temple, “No need to thank me. I’m glad we did this.”

Don't you ever grow up

They were the loudest in the audience by far. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to be even slightly embarrassed. If anything, your grin only widened at their proud features.

Their claps and cheers of your name were enough to make your legs move across the stage as you graciously accepted your diploma before waving it in the air excitedly at them.

All in the front row, your father, honorary grandfather, and brothers all jumped up to keep their clapping, even Damian didn’t pretend not to care.

Tears shone in each and every one of their eyes as they watched you were about to take your final steps off the stage, officially having graduated high school.

Of course, there was an immense amount of pride and joy in their hearts, but there was also a sinking feeling inside that made the tears keep rolling.

The second you stepped off of that stage, you would no longer be a child. You would be off to college. You would have grown up.

Deep down, they all knew they had been dreading this very moment for as long as they could remember, but they never really anticipated what would happen when the day actually came.

But instead of voicing these thoughts and ruining your day, they continued to let their applause boom through the auditorium.

The Superior Robin ❤️- @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @i-writes-things @ladyagagaslefttoe @xbergiex @kiyomi-uchiha777

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 months

Text

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #steddie easter #steve x eddie

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orionremastered · 1 month

Note

Are there another part for shapeshifter golden tiger reader :D i appreciate your writing so much! 💕

I've gotten another ask regarding a shifter!reader, so Imma just pile em up into one big AU. Send more shifter requests to have them added to the list! Even outside of gotham with other dc heroes would be cool. Like they've all got connections with other shifters online or sumin

shifter gang

Masterlist

Part One

Golden Pt. 2

It's been a few days since you last saw the pair, and maybe you're okay with that. Nights have been quiet yet cold, and you're getting excited about the temperature change that comes with spring.

Night patrols have been close to uneventful; save a kid or two there, maul a criminal of two here- the usual, in other words.

You're expecting the usual again tonight, just quiet patrolling and nothing extreme-

Look, you haven't been here for long, okay? Optimism, got it?

You're on the prowl for a missing girl, one that the bats no doubt have on their radar too, but you never know- you might get to her first. You went to the apartment where she lives and are confident that you could pinpoint her on her scent alone.

It's been an hour or two since you started looking and finally, you catch a whiff of the little girl's scent. You draw closer to an abandoned building, sneaking through structures to hide from the unforgiving street lights that flicker, forgotten by the city.

You jump onto a dumpster and into a broken window above it, landing quietly on the dusty floorboards. You can hear crying and the little girl's scent gets stronger.

Someone snaps at her as you draw closer, creeping up the stairs to the second floor. Thankful that the floor doesn't creak, you continue through the corridor of apartments, the number of each room fading from their painted places upon doors.

The screaming gets louder until you stop at a door, slightly ajar. You nudge it open with your nose and- you've luck- it's silent too.

"Shut the fuck up, dammit, you'll-"

The man doesn't get much more out of his mouth before you pounce, toppling both of you to the floor. Your fangs lock around his wrist, making him cry out in pain as you reach for the gun in his hand and throw it to the farthest corner of the room.

"Get-"

You snarl, pushing a set of sharp claws into the top of his spine. He yells curses that one should not around a child.

The window shatters beside you and two figures gracefully land in the room, one larger and one smaller by the sound of the thuds. You turn your head to glare, teeth bared and gleaming before you realise it's Robin and Batman- the duo one only fears if they're a criminal in the light of justice.

The man continues screaming, but not after giving one threatening snarl, deeper than any other you ever have.

"Leave the rest of this to us," Robin says calmly, and you're certain you like him more than the brooding knight in the corner near the gun.

He's allergic to those things anyway, so it's not like you're worried.

You step off the man's back and slowly approach the girl. She scrambles back and you remember you have blood still on your fangs. Still, you lower your head and attempt to look as harmless as a big cat can.

You can't grin when she reaches out to pet your head in case she sees your bloodied teeth. Once she realises you won't do her any harm, she scratches your neck and ears. Purring, you nudge her gently and lower yourself to the floor.

She's small enough to climb onto your back without it being too much of a struggle to stand and walk- she must be only five. She giggles, eyes red with tears, but she finds comfort in the warmth of your fur.

"GCPD has been called," the Bat says, glaring down at the criminal. You and Robin do the same. "Would you like us to take the girl to a hospital?"

You raise your head to look at him and flash your fangs, a solid 'no'.

"Whatever you think is best," Robin says, the Bat looking at him with a stare only a father could give to his son. "But wait, before you go-"

Robin smooths the short furs of your head and scratches underneath your ear. It takes you by surprise at first, but you don't snarl or bare your fangs at him, so he continues until he feels as though his father's glare has gone on long enough. "I told my siblings I'd pat you first. It's a bet, the only one I have participated in so far-" Batman snorts- "And I have won. As expected, I have succeeded."

You make a sound of amusement.

"Perhaps we shall work together again," the older of the two says. You huff, knowing you did all of this yourself, but nod anyway.

Perhaps it's time to make some friends -ones that aren't drowning in coffee and assignments, anyway.

Taglist: @veunho, @chevysstuffs, @carewerff, @xxrougefangxx, @yorkeylover

#batfam #batfamily x reader #damian wayne x reader #batfamily #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader

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disneyprincemuke · 3 months

Text

mrs all american * fem!driver

who is that guy in the andretti racing garage?

pairings: bother figures x fem!driver, 4lyfers x fem!driver

notes: if u think u've read this before, u probably have but like,,,,,,,,,,,,, i rewrote the entire thing to fit the new vibe so hey lol

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

“there she is,” oscar mutters, pushing himself off the wall he’d been leaning on. “we’ve been looking for you all weekend. you’re barely around.”

the girl in her team gear, stops immediately with wide eyes and turns to her friends. “what? oh, hi.”

logan furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head. “where have you been? you’ve been so unreachable since you arrived in vegas. is everything okay?”

she tilts her head, looking curiously between her two best friends. “what do you mean? i’ve been here all weekend. maybe you guys just haven’t done enough to find me.”

she knows exactly what they’re talking about. the entire weekend, she’s been camping out in her driver’s room avoiding everyone else. for good reason: her boyfriend’s finally had the time to come out and watch a race.

not only that, she’s finally decided to just rip the bandaid off and introduce him to everyone with his consent, of course. she’d been hiding him from everyone, afraid that they might scare him off too quick with their antics and borderline insane behaviour.

logan throws his head back. “you’re being kinda weird. is somebody threatening you with something again?”

“you’re being weird,” she mutters, looking towards the andretti racing home. “i’ve just been really busy this weekend. lots of stuff for me to do and go over with sebastian.”

oscar hums, tapping a finger on his lip. “but i’ve seen liam more than you.”

“it’s just sebastian and i. racing strategies and whatnot and telling me what else i need to fix with my driving,” she shrugs. it should really be concerning that lying to them has become a common occurrence lately and it’s slowly becoming easier. but it should also be concerning that they hadn’t noticed up until this weekend the increased secrecy from her side.

though, it shouldn’t be all that shocking that they’re starting to know less and less about one another’s lives. logan has moved out, after all.

“you’re sure you’re alright?” oscar tilts his head, furrowing his eyebrows in concern. “are we still going out tonight?”

“yeah, of course!” she nods a little too eagerly that she doesn’t notice logan and oscar exchange a look. “i was just busy leading up to the race. i swear i’m fine, guys.”

oscar hums. “alright. we’ll see you later for the parade.”

she takes a step back at the group of older drivers gathered outside her racing home. “what are you guys doing here?”

“p wouldn’t stop saying something about seeing a guy she’s seen on the tv in your garage earlier when she passed it,” max mutters without turning his head to look at her, just continues to crane his neck to try and make out the faces through the windows looking into the hospitality.

she tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows. “what?”

“yeah, she told me too,” lando says, mirroring max’s actions. he tilts his head before turning around. he stands a little straighter and points at her. “we asked liam and he didn’t know who the andretti guest is. you don’t know anything about that, do you?”

she chews on the inside of her cheek. “i don’t recall having a big name guest in our side of the paddocks today.”

“really?” max turns, furrowing his eyebrows. “at all? don’t you usually know stuff?”

she shrugs and starts to walk towards the stairs leading to the main doors. “not this weekend, no. i’ve been pretty busy with my own stuff.”

lando hums and rests his hands on his hips, following her towards the door. “really? you’re not lying to us? this is important to p — you love her. just tell us who it is.”

she holds her hands in the air and laughs, turning around right before she walks in. “i’ve literally got no idea who they decided to bring in. you might have better luck with seb.”

max shakes his head, lips pursed in frustration. “we already tried asking him earlier. he doesn’t seem to know who the guest is either… how is it possible that none of you know?”

“i haven’t really paid much attention, really,” she lies with another shrug before turning on her heel. “i’ll see you guys later. save me a spot with you guys on the wee truck, okay?”

“open the door!”

she flinches from her spot on the beanbag, jumping off as she looks at the man previously cozied up with her. “that’s my teammate,” she whispers at him. “what do i do?”

matt throws his hands in the air. “why are you asking me that? like you said — it’s your teammate.”

“i have to open the door. what am i going to do?”

“well, you invited me so i could meet your friends. what’s the harm in meeting liam before the race?”

she contemplates for a second, looking up at the ceiling momentarily. “you don’t know these twats like i do, if i tell them about you now, i’ll never hear the end of it.”

he hums, scrunching his nose. “so what do you wanna do now? he’s at the door.”

“open the door, mate!” liam’s voice comes from the other side, the door rattling slightly as he knocks again. “i know you’re inside.”

“give me a fucking minute!” she screams, hurling a packet of maltesers next to her on the ground towards the door. “be patient!” she looks back at matt. “i need you to hide behind the door for now. i promise you’ll get to meet my insane teammate and friends after the race. just not now.”

he laughs, letting her pull him up from the beanbag, dragging him behind the door would wind up after she opens it. “okay, well be careful not to give too much away.”

she opens the door and fixes her hair, sighing exasperatedly. “what do you want?”

“seb said he’s been texting you to come down. they want to have one last team meeting before the driver’s parade,” liam rambles. “and what took you so long to answer the door?”

she blinks blankly at him, trying to take her brain for a believable lie. “i was finding my clothes.”

“clothes… what would… what?”

she hums, nodding. “i was naked. sorry.”

liam throws his head back with a groan. “okay, i’m sorry i bothered asking.” he turns around and takes a step towards the stairs, “seb wants you downstairs as soon as possible. i’ll see you in a bit.”

she closes the door when liam takes a step on the stairs, turning to her side and sighing heavily. she hunches over and shakes her head. “i literally hate all of them.”

“don’t be like that,” he laughs, pinching her cheek gently. “i’ll see you later, okay? before your race starts?”

she grins. “okay. blythe should be here any minute with ylona and lily then you guys can go explore the circuit again while i’m busy.” he nods, leaning down with puckered lips. she gets on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his before opening the door again. “see ya.”

“are you hiding someone from me?” the girl, who’s just walked into the pitlane to head to the grid for the driver’s parade takes a step back with a clueless blink. “max keeps pestering me about the guest for tonight. something about p recognising the guy?”

she shrugs, eyebrows furrowed. “why do you just assume i always know more than you?”

liam shrugs as well, frowning. “i don’t know. everyone’s just always asking about our guest today,” liam says with a frown.

realistically, she feels bad lying straight through her teeth to everyone. but she doesn’t need anyone messing with her when the truth happens to come out before the race starts. it’s just not something she thinks she needs.

besides, everybody will find out after the race. she will just explain herself then.

“i’ve got no idea what’s going on with our garage today,” she takes a sip from her pepsi, blinking at liam innocently. “guess we’ll find out later?”

“find what out?” oscar tilts his head as they come to a stop right by him and lando, waiting for the truck to start their lap around the track.

“why max and lando keep lingering outside our racing home today,” liam frowns. “i’m not the centre of attention and it’s simply absurd.”

lando sighs, shaking his head. “i know. i was at your side of the paddocks more than i’ve been at my own.”

she shrugs with a small grin. “someone kinda famous, i guess. according to p, at least.”

“it’s not jacob elordi again, is it?” carlos pokes his head between lando’s and hers, furrowing his eyebrows. he turns to her, met with an unamused stare and head tilt. he shrugs. “just curious. who knows if you’re seeing him again?”

she looks around their huddle, suddenly greeted by curious stares and raised eyebrows. she throws her arms in the air and shakes her head. “i’m not seeing jacob again! i haven’t seen him since the miami race last year! please let it go!”

alex narrows his eyes down with a small smirk. “you sound like you know something about andretti’s special guest.”

“you liar!” liam screams.

“i don’t!” she turns to liam with her arms in the air. she turns to alex and scowls. “why are you stirring drama? i don’t know anything about who andretti’s decided to give their stupid pass to this weekend, okay?”

alex hums, pressing his lips together. “that’s not what logan told me.”

“why would logan know anything about andretti’s guest this weekend? i’ve barely seen him.”

he shrugs, “i really thought that would break you.”

“nice try,” oscar sighs, shaking his head. “you really don’t know anything?”

she shakes her head. “i really don’t. now can we please talk about something else?”

liam had been walking out of his driver’s room, on his way down for the race start when he heard two voices coming from the room next to him. normally, it would have been okay, considering he knew blythe would be around tonight.

but it’s a man’s voice, which makes it all the more intriguing.

“don’t forget to watch the purple car — i’m in the andretti, okay? not the red bull, not the ferrari or the bright papaya that’s the mclaren,” he hears her say. “you’re here to watch me.”

liam furrows his eyebrows, stepping towards the door with light feet to minimise the sounds to reduce suspicion. he presses his ear against the door.

“i don’t even know what a ferrari is.”

he hears her laugh, followed by footsteps approaching the door. “i’ll see you later, malt. love you.”

the door clicks, prompting liam to hurl himself towards the stairs leading downstairs, stumbling and sliding down a couple of steps. liam pulls himself up with the railing, trying to ignore the way he can hear the confusion as the door closes.

“what are you doing?��

liam hops up to his feet, one of his foot sliding off at the edge of the steps. he coughs to cover it up and shakes his head. “i’m just super excited to be racing in vegas.”

she tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows. “are you sure? is something wrong?”

he shakes his head. “nope. nothing.”

perhaps she will break the news to him after the race? he doesn’t think he’s ever heard her say that phrase to anyone, much less know anyone called ‘malt’. what even is that name? did somebody actually name their kid malt?

“you don’t have anything to ask me?” she bites down on her lip, trying to keep the laugh in.

truthfully, she had heard the door rattle a couple of times and assumed that liam was being nosey outside her driver’s room. she’s more surprised that her teammate is not probing her for a more defined answer other than a shrug.

“i guess,” liam shrugs dejectedly.

he just wants her to tell him instead of having to ask her outright.

“alright, mate,” she laughs, furrowing her eyebrows. “by the way, you’re coming for ice cream tonight, right? i’ve got someone i want you to meet.”

that’s another race she finishes on the podium, on the bottom step behind checo and max. it’s absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she’s got a special guest in her garage watching, the car was just good.

she knows that because liam’s finished directly behind her. she would have given him the podium if sebastian hadn’t insisted that there’s no driver swap necessary and that it would only be riskier to do so.

she climbs out of the car, eyes crinkled towards the team gathered behind the barriers for her. she tears all of her headgear off and immediately runs forward to where her team is gathered.

“amazing!” sebastian screams, arms wide open as she starts to approach them. “good job, kid!”

she screeches, hopping over to where they are with her fists in the air. “i did it! i literally love vegas! year after year, all vegas does is give me is bangers!”

she jumps into sebastian’s arms, cheering along with her team of mechanics with their arms wrapped around her as well. “yay! another podium for me!”

she pulls away and pushes her hair away from her face and sighs. she looks around the crowd. “where’s blythe and matt? did you not bring them over?”

sebastian grins with a shrug. “they’re in the back of the crowd — blythe said she wasn’t sure if you wanted to be seen with him right now so they’re lingering somewhere back there.”

she sighs and grabs sebastian’s shoulders, nodding. “could you get them here to the front?” from the corner of her eye, she sees liam approaching her. “i’ll get back to you.”

“hey, congrats!” liam cheers, throwing himself around her and holds her tightly against him. “i know you had somebody in your room earlier and i know damn well it wasn’t blythe.”

“i know. you rattled the door with all your moving,” she whispers her answer before bubbling into a laugh. she drops her head slightly as a blush slowly creeps up her cheeks. “i’m seeing somebody.”

“i also know that,” liam grins, a hand still on the small of her back. “do i get to meet him?”

“obviously. do you know how difficult it’s been to keep him out of everyone’s sight all day?” she snorts, rolling her eyes. “i promise you’ll get to meet him.”

“hey, rocky!” she whirls back towards the crowd and shrieks at the sight of her sister, then matt standing behind her. “congratulations on the podium, mate!”

“blythe! thank you!” she hops over once more, arms held out and immediately engulfed into a hug by her younger sister. “thank you so much for coming. i know you have a tournament in a couple of days.”

blythe shrugs, grinning cheekily at her. “well, you did pay for my flight… so anything for you.”

the young girl quickly takes whatever she can of a step back and gestures for matt to take a step forward. “hey, congrats! if i didn’t know any better, i’d have said you made it on the podium to make sure everyone knew i had such an amazing girlfriend.”

she rolls her eyes, hitting him in the chest softly. “shut up,” she snorts with an eye roll before she takes a step forward to pull him in for a hug. “thank you for coming and staying all weekend to watch my race.”

“obviously, how could i not take up the chance on your paddock passes?” he whispers in her ear, pulling away. he pinches her cheeks and pulls very lightly, leaning down to mush their lips together. “thanks again, by the way.”

she giggles, cheeks flushing as she tries to ignore the flashes rapidly going off around them. “how can i not?”

“oh.” liam walks up to them and leans on the railing, looking between them. “how rude — you’re not going to introduce your teammate at all to the man you’re kissing?”

she turns around. “i have an interview to do. i’ll introduce you guys later,” she scoffs, smiling apologetically at matt before shoving liam away. she looks back over her shoulder. “i’ll be with you later again i promise.”

she doesn’t notice the dutchman awaiting his interview, eyes wide and jaw dropped at what he had just witnessed happen towards the andretti side of the area. what a revelation.

“what do we have here?” she flinches as she opens the door, taken aback by the taller man — men — who stand in the porch of the racing home with arms over their chests. matt huffs when she walks right into his body, stumbling slightly and hands coming up to grab her shoulder firmly. “i saw you kissing a man after the race.”

she lifts an eyebrow. “okay? indeed i was.”

max tilts his head with a small grin, pushing her aside. the girl stumbles over her feet, matt nervously trying to steady her by reaching out to grab her arm. max holds his hand out. “i’m max. i can fight.”

“max!” she shrieks, pushing max’s arm away before it can be grabbed cordially. “what is wrong with you? that’s not how you introduce yourself!”

but as she’s preoccupied with max, to her horror, she’s turned back around and the other 3 have already surrounded the poor boy with furrowed eyebrows and questions spilling past their lips.

who are you, where do you live, what are your intentions with rocky, how long have you known her, who even are you? and this is exactly why she hesitated even bringing him to the race to watch her.

“hey, what are you doing? stop doing that!” she cries, running back around to try and shoo off alex, george and lando who have well invaded her boyfriend’s personal space. before she can take 3 steps away, max grabs her shoulder and yanks her back toward him to hold her in place. “you guys are embarrassing me! you’re worse than my siblings!”

“oh, you’ve met her siblings!” alex cheers for a moment before wiping the smile from his face. “so? what are they gonna do to protect you? they’re so much younger.”

“hey! those are my sisters and brother you’re talking about!”

“ah, you get what i mean,” alex waves her off, snorting softly. he returns his attention to the boy with a small amused grin. “so? you plan on answering our questions, mate? we’ll be here all night if you don’t.”

the brunette grins, green eyes piercing into their own. “i’m matt cornett. i’m an actor,” he points shyly at her, held hostage by max, “she’s my girlfriend.”

“girlfriend?” lando screams incredulously, throwing his head back in disbelief. he turns to the girl and points at matt. “you found yourself a boyfriend? did you use our advice?”

she stares at them, blinking with a toothy and fearful grin. “why… would i use your shit advice?”

“why wouldn’t you?” alex furrows his eyebrows with a small scowl on his face. “you’re so bad at dating — how did you–”

“don’t you look a little familiar?” george starts softly, pointing at matt with squinted eyes. “have we met?”

“last year in vegas at the club when you dragged me out and i was the designated driver,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes. “we met out in the balcony while i tried to escape the horrors of the drunk people downstairs before logan came and pulled me out to go home.”

alex turns to her stiffly with a finger pointed at her. “we weren’t talking to you.”

she raises her eyebrows. “okay, sorry i tried speaking to you. i thought we were friends.”

“we’re getting to know him. we already know enough about you,” lando adds on, waving his hand in the air to dismiss her. “how long have you guys been dating?”

“5… almost 6 months?” matt blinks, smiling slightly to mask the fear he’s slightly feeling.

“ah,” alex nods. “where’d you go take her on a date? better be a nice place — that’s the princess of the grid you’re with. we protect her. i don’t care what her parents said to you.”

“it’s true. i almost beat somebody up in some alley last year for her,” max boasts with a proud smile and his chest puffed out. “even almost sued the crap out him. i would’ve ruined that man’s life if she asked me to.”

max feels the girl patting his shoulder. “not a flex, max… stop talking.”

“we went out to this really nice place in miami,” matt starts explaining softly, choosing his words carefully. “then we went out for ice cream afterwards.”

lando hums, pressing his lips together. he squints and takes a step forward closer to matt. “what’s her ice cream order?”

“rocky road ice cream with extra marshmallows.”

george shrugs. “if he knows that already, seems like we shouldn’t be here anymore,” george turns. “see you around, mate.”

a hand forcefully turns george back to face matt. “we’re not done yet, george. stay here.”

“oh, i didn’t know you were all already here!” oscar laughs, heads turning towards the bottom of the stairs leading up the andretti racing home. “heard you were kissing a boy after the race, mate. had to come and find out what that was all about.”

she sighs, throwing her head back. “yes, there’s even photographic evidence circulating the f1 gossip pages if you look deep enough,” she answers in a deep tone to mimic oscar, “it doesn’t take a genius.”

she gestures towards matt. “my boyfriend. his name is matt.”

oscar grins. “oh, hey. what’s up, mate?”

matt opens his mouth to greet oscar and introduce himself, only to find himself cut off by max speaking out.

“have you made her cry?” max asks with wide eyes. “because one tear is every punch i get to throw without you running off to the media crying about it.”

“max–“

“oh, hey matt!” lily greets sweetly, finding her spot next to oscar on the porch, tangling herself into oscar’s arms. “did you manage to grab dinner with mick and blythe earlier? sorry i had to run.”

silence hangs in the air as lily finishes her sentence, heads turning to her with suspense. she looks around and blinks. “what?”

“you knew about matt?” oscar mutters, staring down at her blankly. “you never told me?”

lily shrugs with a polite smile. “wasn’t my relationship to hardlaunch.”

oscar shrugs, “i guess.”

only then does liam arrive with logan and ylona in tow. logan tilts his head in curiousity at the crowd that’s formed, and at the fact that his girlfriend’s just slipped out of his arms to run up the steps.

“rocky! congrats on the podium tonight!” ylona squeaks, throwing her arms around the younger girl. then she turns around with a wide smile. “sorry i couldn’t join you and blythe for dinner. lily and i had to find a bar to book a table with tonight for after the race.”

“you knew rocky’s dating matt too?” oscar almost shouts, absolutely bewildering at the vital information that seemed to be kept from them.

“rocky’s dating–“ logan finally looks past the crowd and finds the man surrounded by lando, george and alex. “didn’t we meet before? you look familiar.”

the brunette nods. “a club here in vegas this time last year.”

“wait a second,” liam puts a finger over his lip, “didn’t i meet you in new york? i took a picture of you guys, didn’t i? with rocky’s polaroid.”

matt nods again, eyes dropping to avoid the stares. “yes. i have that picture in my wallet still.”

“wait,” logan shakes his head. “you’ve met more than once in clubs?”

“well, you guys kept pulling me away rudely so we didn’t like… exchange socials until we ran into each other again in miami after my race win,” she explains softly.

logan then realises. “ylona, you knew about rocky’s boyfriend and you didn’t tell me?”

ylona shrugs, giving the same answer as lily. “not my relationship to yap about.”

max huffs. “so? what now? we just have to accept the fact you’ve got a boyfriend?”

“yes?” she cries with her arms in the air. “you guys are being so weird right now!”

— bonus

“foul,” logan mutters, shaking his head disapprovingly. “i can’t believe you didn’t tell me she has a boyfriend. when it’s rocky and a potential boyfriend, you tell us.”

lily shakes her head, poking her head out to look over at ylona. “you don’t have to. they’re just protective.”

ylona nods, pressing her lips together. “well, we met matt, you see. he’s a decent guy — didn’t seem like you guys had to run any more background checks on him than we already did.”

“nice,” oscar giggles, high fiving lily.

he looks ahead at the group walking down the strip to get ice cream first before heading to the club, her arms wrapped around matt’s as they walked and chatted with george.

“well, she does look happy,” oscar mutters. “i was afraid she was gonna end up and old maid with 20 cats in her home.”

logan scoffs. “she’s gonna end up with 20 cats regardless.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

448 notes · View notes

wosoamazing · 1 month

Text

Icky

Summary: You get bus sick. Warnings: Motion sickness, vomit

Today you were travelling to Manchester with the team on the bus. It was going to take 4 hours, if there wasn’t any traffic, so Lotte took you to the shops this morning to buy some things to keep you entertained on the bus.

You got to play on your iPad for a while before Lotte told you that you’d had enough screen time and she handed you some play doh to do, however after making several different shapes you got bored of the playdoh and asked for your colouring in, as you coloured in you started to feel icky, and your stomach started to feel kind of funny.

“Lotte, I feel a little sick,” you admitted to her as you stopped your colouring in and wrapped your arms around your stomach.

“That’s not good, does your tummy hurt?” You nodded, causing Lotte to look at Alessia who stood up and walked towards the front of the bus, “well why don’t we put your colouring away and you can sit on my lap, and we could have a cuddle as you look outside, and maybe take some deep breaths.” you just nodded again and Lotte moved to pack up your crayons in your pencil case, she closed up your book and placed them in the middle of the table, before lifting you up and placing you in her lap, sideways, so that your side was leaning into her and you faced out the window. As you followed Lotte’s words you started feeling more and more sick, you hadn’t even noticed that Alessia had returned to her seat, handing Lotte the several sick bags and wet wipes the medics gave her. You were almost shaking as you tried to stop the sick feeling, and prevent the tears that were threatening to fall from doing so. You didn’t really know what being sick was like, somehow you only picked up the common cold once a year and that was it, so the feeling of ickiness rising up your throat made you feel weird, and so you told Lotte.

“I don’t like this,” you said as you looked up at her, tears starting to spill out of your eyes, she pulled you back in her lap so you were sat fully on her lap rather than the edge of her thigh. Your face had lost almost all of its colour and Lotte was pretty sure you were about to throw up. So she grabbed a sick bag, as you turned your head to look back out the window.

“Peanut, if you feel like you might throw up, like your tummy might be sick, I need you to try and aim in here okay,” she told you as she held the sick bag in front of you, you just nodded weakly as you fought back the feeling. Lotte saw your body jerk slightly, before your eyes widened in panic, “It’s okay Pea, I’ve got you, just let it out,”. She watched as you gaged, the tears started to grow, and before long you gaged again as your stomach spilled its contents out into the bag, “that’s the way Pea, it’s okay, you’ve got this, don’t worry, you’re doing so great” Lotte comforted you as she rubbed your back. After you finished you moved your hands up to rub your wet eyes and you sat upright again, “Do you think you’re done for now pea?” you nodded at her as one of the medics walked up behind you holding a bucket, Lotte twisted the bag to tie it up and placed it in the bucket before grabbing a wet wipe and wiping your face, placing it in the bucket too. You immediately turned around to face her and curled up in her lap burying your head in her chest and she wrapped her arms tightly around your now sobbing body.

“We’re going to stop off slightly earlier than originally planned, someone can go inside and grab whatever you both need and you can sit outside with her so she can get some fresh air if you want,” the medic told Lotte, “Thank you,” she smiled at the medic who smiled back before walking towards the front of the bus again.

“Are you feeling a little better now Pea?” Lotte asked as she kissed the top of your head, you nodded softly into her chest.

______

You were now sitting on Lotte’s knees as she sat on a bench outside, you felt a lot more like your normal self and only felt a little icky still, you were in a very competitive game of eye spy when Leah came to sit next to you.

“Hey Le, you okay?” Lotte asked, curious as to why the blonde wasn’t inside with the team.

“Yeah, just thought I would join you both to get some fresh air,” Leah’s voice pulled you out of your trance and you climbed of Lotte’s lap before walking over to Leah on the bench, “Hi Le,” you said as you wrapped your arms around her neck to give her a hug, before she pulled you into her, causing you to fall into her lap.

“Hi mini England, are you feeling better now?” “yes,” you said as you aggressively nodded your head.

“Let’s remember to be calm, Pea, we don’t want you getting sick again.” “Sorry Lotte, can I sit with you on the bus now Leah?” you asked as you tilted your head.

“I think that is up to your sister, but if she says yes I am happy with it.” Leah looked towards Lotte for confirmation.

“Are you sure Leah, she might get sick again,” Lotte asked cautiously, “It’s totally fine Lotte, I’ll just make sure we have some sick bags with us for just encase,” Leah reassured your sister.

“Okay then Pea, you can sit with Leah, but remember to behave and if you feel sick make sure to tell her straight away okay,” you nodded eagerly, as the rest of the team joined you outside. You pulled Leah along behind you as you walked back to the bus.

“How about you have a sleep , Pea, it might make you feel better. I might join you, my body is making me feel extra tired today” you nodded as a yawn escaped from your mouth, Leah manoeuvred you on her lap so that you were sitting with your back against her front and your legs stretched out in front of you on top of hers, she sat across two seats, leaning back against the glass of the window. Lia handed her a blanket, which she placed over you, and it wasn’t long before you had fallen asleep. Leah fell asleep shortly after you and you both slept for the rest of the trip.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader #lotte wubben moy #lotte wubben moy x reader #lionesses

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c-h-i-m-es · 5 months

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gojo satoru

"okay so don't get mad-" you sigh as soon as you hear gojo, already throwing your hands up in air, "no, i don't wanna hear what you did or whatever happened, i'm in my zone so don't tell me anything."

he sighs, coming to lay down in your bed, right besides you, "hear me out though. i promise it's not even as bad you think it might be."

"oh yeah? i don't wanna take my chances though." you turn your eyes back on your phone, going through the website to see if you find something cute to wear for the new year party geto was going to throw.

"look at me before i throw your phone down the window, sweets." you dramatically gasp, side eyeing him as you bring your phone to your chest, "threatening me then calling me something cute huh?"

you put your phone down, turning your body to him, "okay tell me what you did." he scoffs, looking offended, "i didn't even do anything." he looks at you with a small grin on his lips, "so turns out i forgot that there was an end of the year meeting at the clan house tonight. and like you know this is the one event i have to attend so come along with me?"

you look at him, confused and boredom, "why do i gotta go? not that i'm saying we're ready to get married, but you haven't even wifed me up. you haven't put a ring on my finger yet. why do i gotta attend?"

he laughs, pulling you in for a kiss, "oh baby, but everyone just knows about us. and i really need you as my emotional support with all those annoying old folks. attend this thing with me? please?"

you can't even hide your smile in front of him even if you tried, "yeah sure sure. i don't know what they put in their food, but it's always so good."

his face instantly lightens up, cupping your face and placing a soft kiss on your lips, "great then. you might start getting ready because we have an hour max to get there." the light from your face drains away and gojo gets out of the bed before you could attack him.

"i swear you really get up in the morning with the goal to make my day worse than the day before's."

he winks at you and stands in front of the bathroom door as he looks back at you, "as much as i love seeing you get angry, you might wanna join me here before we get late."

you try and get ready as soon as possible but the dress you had to put on was taking tons of time. "why is this skirt so hard to tie?" you sigh, pushing your hair away from your face, "satoru are you sure we are doing this right?"

he stops to look at the phone on the floor besides him, "that's how they're doing in this video."

after another ten minutes of putting it on and taking it off because it did not look right, you're finally done with the dress. you let out a long breath, looking at the full length mirror on the floor, "finally.." (idk how to explain but basically i imagined something like utahite wears. long, wide sleeves and wide skirt on bottoms. let me know if you know what it's called <3)

gojo gets up from the floor, dusting his own haori and looking at you up and down, "you look very unwrappable in this." you turn to him with a frown, "ew shut up, give me like ten minutes and we can go."

he lets out a sigh, "take all the time you need, i'll be in the living room." you chuckle, "don't worry i'll be done in time so we don't be too late."

you touch up your hair and makeup, putting on perfume and packing your bag with your essentials before you head out the room. "i'm done."

he looks at you with a smile, "you look beautiful, as usual." he gets up from the couch, walking to you. "i don't feel like going.." he cups your face before kissing your lips ever so softly. you smile into the kiss and pull back to look at him, "i know you don't, but you gotta. and i didn't dress up for you to say you don't wanna go."

you intertwine your fingers together with him, grabbing the keys from the side table, "keep behaving like this and i'll have to be the man in this relationship and drive us there." he laughs, grabbing the car key from you, "i would never let you drive, or do any hard work as long as i'm here." you cringe when he blows you kiss.

"prepare yourself to listen to all their crap. and not act out." you chuckle as you lock the front door, pulling him down to place a kiss on his lips, "we'll leave as soon as possible, yeah?"

he nods with a sigh, "i hope my ears don't bleed."

was supposed to upload this on new years but i forgot :P

#jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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hellishjoel · 7 months

Text

scream queen

6.6k / pairing: ghostface!joel miller x f!reader

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summary: A stalker outside your window at night forces you to beg for your life in more ways than one. You do what it takes because you're a survivor. And you kind of like the mask on. A/N: please heed these warnings, as they can be triggering for some individuals. No one is forcing you to read this, and if it sounds unappealing, please keep scrolling. This is far different from what I usually post, but I’m feeling spooky and have rewatched the entire Scream franchise in 72 hours. Indented chat means ghostface’s voice changer is on. Thank you to Emmie @hyzer34 for the FREAKING AMAZING ghostface!joel edits!

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), horror, dark ghostface!joel, dubious consent (dubcon via manipulation/guilt/survival), reader has a boyfriend (what a drag) so I guess cheating/infidelity, swearing, taunting/stalker behavior, masked anonymous individual, strip show to save a life, male masturbation, threat of violence/death, begging for life, manhandling, spanking, rough oral (face fucking)(m!receiving), pet names, praise kink, degradation kink, clit smacking (?), life-threatening knifeplay, unprotected sex (p in v), the mask stays on ladies, plot twist ending? very barely edited heads-up

You gasp shakily as his hand carefully caresses your tit, thumb featherlight over your nipple, before he cups and lightly squeezes your juicy flesh. You swallow down a lump and cower before him. You’re afraid for when he goes lower what he might find, how your slick is dampening your thighs, and your clit is pulsating for him. You need him. It’s sick, gross, disgusting, but you need him. “Please, Mr.,” you trail off, unsure of what to call him. “Ghostface.” He aids, and you quickly nod as your lips part. Your worst fear is coming true as his calloused hand and rough fingertips guide themselves further down the soft skin of your stomach and to your panties. “Please, Mr. Ghostface, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” You can’t help but feel tears welling in your eyes once more. The masked man sighs and slowly shakes his head in shame. “I don’t think it’s about what I want to do to you. But what you want me to do to you.”

It was a quiet fall evening. You sat on your boyfriend’s couch, ankles crossed along the extent of the cushions as you leafed through what was available on different streaming services. You wanted something spooky for Halloween but not something that would over-excite your imagination while alone. You’re wearing the same thing he left you in, red panties and an oversized black tee you had snagged from his closet.

You figure your boyfriend should be home soon, so you start a bag of popcorn in the microwave. You sit up on the counter and kick your feet gently against the cabinets as you watch the time tick down, listening to each pop as it slowly rattles up its pace.

Your phone’s ring catches your attention back in the living room. You assume it’s your boyfriend as you hop off the counter and swipe it from the arm of the chair.

Unknown Caller

With a roll of your eyes, your tongue rutting out against your cheek, you deny the call. Probably a wrong number or an asshole troll since Halloween was nearing. You’re about to turn back to the kitchen, hearing the popcorn bag rattling with intensity when your phone goes off again.

Stopped in your tracks, you watch your phone buzz with uncertainty as the screen flashes with the Unknown Caller tag once more.

All of a sudden, the air is tight in your lungs, and your body is riddled with goosebumps. Now you were annoyed. You slid across the call button and pushed the phone to your ear.

“You have the wrong number. Stop fucking calling me.” You jam the blaring red end call button before huffing and returning to your popcorn.

The timer slowly counts down, but each pop from the bag makes you jump. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Your body jolts as you hear something pound against the windows, throwing yourself back against the counter with wide eyes.

“What the fuck!” You gasp as you rotate your head, searching from open window to open window where the banging was coming from. But there was nothing. No one. Your heart rate is slowly increasing, you can feel it jumping in your wrist and your neck.

Your feet quickly skid across the room, locking the house’s back door before running back towards the front entrance, flicking the lock in place. Even if it was nothing, at least you were safe.

Standing still in the entryway, you observed the home to be dead quiet. Your fears were still nesting on your shoulders, that you weren’t alone.

Your phone rings again, causing you to jump from the silence you had grown used to. With a distasteful grimace, you glance around as you walk towards your phone. You accept the call with hesitancy.

“Who is this?” You ask, already maneuvering around the house and shutting all the curtains and blinds in your wake. “Whoever the hell you are, just stop fucking calling me.” You try not to let the panic that’s sitting in your throat be exposed over the phone. Whoever has called you hasn’t spoken yet.

“Hello?” You ask, pausing in the kitchen as you finish your rounds around the first floor.

“Now that is how you answer a phone call.” The voice isn’t familiar, it’s almost… animatronic? It didn’t sound like a person, but the languidness of their voice was all too human. It was low, primal.

Now, you’ve seen these movies before, you weren’t an idiot, and you weren’t going to be one tonight.

“What are you going to ask me? What’s my favorite scary movie?” You taunt, yanking the microwave door open and retrieving the piping hot bag of popcorn from inside, sucking in a harsh breath as your fingertips branded red from the heat.

The voice on the line laughs. It’s almost sinister, not at all comforting. You’re not even sure why you’re entertaining this jackass who’s calling you when all they’ve done so far is giggle at your expense.

“How did you even get this number, you fucking troll?” You probe, frowning as you squeeze your phone between your cheek and shoulder as you pry open the popcorn bag. Of course, it bursts, sending a few pieces scattered around the kitchen. You simply roll your eyes and sigh at the inconvenience.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and clean up the mess you made?”

You squat down to pick up the kernels you dropped, only realizing the extent of what the voice said a moment later. Your eyes widen, and your chest surges with panic. You look around, but all the windows are closed and covered. Was that just a lucky guess, or is someone watching you?

Out of instinct, you reach for the knife block on the kitchen counter and yank out the biggest one. The blade gleams silver in the light, and you realize how exposed you are.

You set down the knife on the counter and quickly move around the house, shutting off the lights and concealing you in a dim darkness.

“What happened to the show? Why did the curtain close?” The low, sinister voice asks, and you whimper quietly in your hand to conceal your fear. “I liked watching you walk around,” he pauses, and all you can hear is your heart pounding, “in those red little panties.”

You hate to admit that this flicks a nasty switch in you, chased and taunted, talked down to by an unknown figure. As much as you’re scared, a small churning begins low in your tummy, and you clench your thighs tighter together.

With a shaky breath, you nibble on your lower lip and slowly move towards the front windows. You slowly peek them open, seeing nothing but your reflection and darkness.

“Can you see me?” You ask nervously, licking at your lower lip.

“Ahhh, there she is.” The voice praises, forcing you to swallow a lump down your throat. “Push those curtains open all the way. Want to see all of you.” You shiver, and the pooling in your panties only becomes more urgent. Someone’s watching you, and they like what they see.

Following the anonymous caller’s instructions, you slowly push open the curtains, your body backlist by a dim light still on in the kitchen. The voice hums in appreciation.

You blame it on your state of panic for not thinking clearly or logically for that manner. This creep wanted you, you could hear the slight desperation clinging to their voice.

“Promise me you won’t fuckin’ harm me, and I-I’ll put on a show for you. Isn’t that what you want? You said you liked my panties.” You breathily point out, opting to put the phone on speakerphone and setting it down on the bench in front of the now curtain-drawn windows.

The voice on the other line hums, pondering your offer. A shiver rolls over your spine as you subconsciously cross your arms in front of your body, scared and nerve-wracked.

“You have a gorgeous body. Let me see it. All of it.” The voice echoes within the quiet home, and you blink back the fear that is resting heavily on your chest. You take in a shaky breath and do as you are told.

Your hands go to the hem of your top, about to lazily toss it off when you are tsk tsk-ed at. You frown and quickly pull the t-shirt back down.

“Not like that!” The voice barks, angry and condescending, making you whimper. The voice pauses and takes a breath. “Slower.”

“Slower..” you whisper back, hearing the voice hum. You still couldn’t see outside, merely darkness and your reflection. You were fucking terrified, but if this was what they wanted, just maybe they’d let you be.

You try again. Your hands slowly start at the sides of your neck, pretty and dainty fingers cascading down to your clavicle. You push one hand into the hair at the back of your neck, lightly ruffling the strands while the other skims lower to more dangerous territory.

The heel of your palm skirts down the front of your shirt until your fingers flitter over the hem of your panties.

It feels stupid what you’re doing, but it makes you feel alive. Your heart has never beat faster. You’ve never turned on a complete stranger, stalker, even. You were in control of the show here.

You’re not exactly sure what to look at in the window, so you admire the reflection. You hum sweetly as you hook your thumbs into the tops of your panties. You loop them around, from front to back, stopping at the sides and lightly pushing down to show glimpses of your hips.

The breathing on the other end shuffles. It almost makes you stop.

“This turn you on?” You ask. “Does this make you have your hand around your cock?” You ask into the phone, smiling lightly as you turn around, lifting up the shirt from covering your ass, giving them a peek-a-boo of you from the back.

The evil voice echoes a laugh. “How did you know?”

Being correct makes you all the more turned on. “How could you not?”

I mean, look at you. You looked gorgeous and confident, silhouetted by the light, awed by a strange man. You can hear them jerking it on the line, murmuring little grunts to try and not get ahead of themselves. The show had just begun.

With your back turned to the window still, you cross your arms over your threshold, retrieve your shirt, and lift it up and off of you. Your hair cascades and dances around your back and shoulders. You felt bare, cold. Part of you wished they would come inside and warm you up.

You peer over your shoulder, hearing the approving grunt on speakerphone. You bit on your thumbnail, looking through the glass with big doe eyes.

“You’re not so innocent, pretty girl. Let me see you.”

Now, with your body to show, you felt a bit more nervous. Your fingertips twitched, and you felt shaky on your legs. You did as the voice asked, turning to face the window. Your arms are crossed, covering your bare breasts meekly.

That’s when you see him. A masked man standing a fair distance away out your window. It quickens your pulse and surges you with adrenaline.

Yet you don’t run. You don’t hide.

Your eyes flitter down to their hand shuffling up and down the extent of their cock. The sight alone, even in the dark, being able to see his impressive length was enough to make you let out a needy whimper.

“I-I don’t know about this,” you whimper, your head falling a bit shamefully. It’s like your head caught up with your foolish actions.

“I’m warning you. Put down your fucking arms.”

You let out a shaky breath and wince at the voice, tears simmering on your waterline. You put yourself in this position, you can’t believe you thought this would work.

You slowly drop your hands to your sides, exposing your breasts. And how embarrassing they were, taut and at peaks. They were flush with color, begging for attention. You interlocked your fingers behind your back and chewed on your bottom lip, shyly looking down at the floor as you clamped your thighs tightly together.

“You’re a real beautiful girl,” the voice grunted, flattering you with attention. “Why don’t you let me in.”

The demand didn’t frighten you like maybe it should have. Frankly, you were turned on to the point where it nearly hurt. You didn’t know who this mystery person was or what their intentions were, but they were getting off to seeing you exposed, scared, and alone.

“Come on,” the voice continues. You hear shuffling, and when you look up, the masked man outside your window is gone. You move closer and peer outside, but it’s quiet. Empty.

“Let me take care of you, sweet girl.”

Breaths fans out hastily from your nostrils, panicked as you looked around slowly from the front entrance to the back.

The doorbell rings, and it makes you jump nonetheless.

You bite down on your bottom lip as you retrieve your phone and slowly cross to the door in just your socks and underwear. Your forearm covers your breasts. Your hand rests on the handle, but you have a hard time willing yourself to open it.

The doorbell rings again, another jump through your bones, but this time, it implores you to swing the door open. And there he was.

He was tall, you had to crane your neck to look up. Your lips part, doe eyes taking in how close he is, stepping back in shock at his appearance. Broad shoulders cloaked by a black hooded robe. It was tattered, lined with rips and tears at the seams that draped from his arms. He also wore large, black, combat boots. The scariest thing of all was the mask. It was white with black eyes and a sloped open black mouth.

Whoever was behind the mask was fit. Their toned body could be discovered even behind the robust black robe. He wore black gloves, too. You don’t realize that as you’re taking him in, the protective arm you had concealing your breasts has since lowered.

“Scary night to be alone, isn’t it?” The voice is still animatronic as the masked man’s head tilts and observes you through the black cloth eye holes.

You nod your head, its pace quick.

“Invite me in. Don’t want you to catch a chill.”

It was disturbing to admit how stupid you felt letting this freakshow stalker into your boyfriend’s home, but in a really weird and taboo way, you found the anonymity of the man attractive. You saw his cock while he stood outside, his large hand stroking over himself at the sight of your body. You figure he must have put the gloves back on once he wanted to come inside.

As if he could read your mind, the masked man stepped inside with his tall stature looming over yours. He slowly plucked off one of his gloves, and you see his flesh.

You watch him carefully as he brings his hand to cup your cheek. You flinch at first, but there is truly nothing to be frightened of. He strokes away a dry, panicked tear from earlier. You can’t help but let out a shaky, wavering whimper. He touches you with such delicacy but hides behind a mask that scares you to your core.

“Just as I thought,” His animatronic voice echoed, his hand dropping to your hair that fell around your face and sweeping it behind your shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”

Your hair was no longer concealing your breasts. You gasp shakily as his hand carefully caresses your tit, thumb featherlight over your nipple, before he cups and lightly squeezes your juicy flesh.

You swallow down a lump and cower before him. You’re afraid for when he goes lower what he might find, how your slick is dampening your thighs, and your clit is pulsating for him. You need him. It’s sick, gross, disgusting, but you need him.

“Please, Mr.,” you trail off, unsure of what to call him.

“Ghostface.” He aids, and you quickly nod as your lips part. Your worst fear is coming true as his calloused hand and rough fingertips guide themselves further down the soft skin of your stomach and to your panties.

“Please, Mr. Ghostface, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” You can’t help but feel tears welling in your eyes once more.

The masked man sighs and slowly shakes his head in shame.

“I don’t think it’s about what I want to do to you. But what you want me to do to you.” He aggressively cups your sex, feeling his fingers squish with the soaked material of your red panties. You whimper and clutch his arm, biting back whimpery moans that you’re so desperate to let out. You were secretly begging to be touched. Your thighs clamp around the man’s hand.

He deviously chuckles. “This is all for me, sweet girl?”

The man walks you backward until your back is flushed to the wall. You’re still holding his arm in place between your thighs. His fingers add pressure to your bundle of nerves. You lightly grind your hips down into his fingers and let out an embarrassed little moan.

“Y-Yes.” Admitting in defeat made your stomach churn. “But I want to hear your voice.” You whisper, unsure if you can even make demands in your position right now.

Ghostface sighs weakly but plucks something out from under his mask. It looks sort of like a smaller walkie-talkie. It was a voice changer. Your eyes flitter to the eyes of his mask. It was black, empty. Finally, you would hear his true voice, and you prayed it was as sexy as he looked.

“Is this what you wanted to hear, darlin’?”

You lightly gasp at the southern drawl, deep and guttural, musk-filled and leaving you in a tailspin. His voice was hot, causing a pool of your white-hot heat to leak once more into your panties. You finally nod to his question and let your hands skim across the man’s front. He was toned, like you imagined, with hardened plains and a toughened, thick torso under his black cloak.

“You’re comin’ with me.” The voice growls. He leans down and scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder as you gasp and whimper, feeling him trail you up the stairs. His black combat boots echo loudly through the stairwell. He’s so strong. How he knows the layout of the house scares you and implores you. It’s like he knows you, and you may know him.

He takes you to the master bedroom, the one you share with your boyfriend. Fuck, your boyfriend. A naughty sin to cheat, a naughty sin to like it. It’s hard to picture him right now with the man above you captivating your full attention.

Your breasts jiggle when he throws you back onto the mattress. You scramble further up it, putting a safe distance between you and Ghostface. He grips you at your ankles and pulls you to him in an eager yank. A cry escapes your throat, but it’s just because you’re nervous. You saw how big he was in his hand outside, and now, soon, you’d hope he would be inside of you.

“Please,” you whimper, and Ghostface tilts his head. “I-I..” you trail off and shake your head, embarrassment and shame pumping through your veins.

“You, what? Spit it out, pretty girl.” The voice says as he slowly takes off the hooded robe. He wears black pants and a black t-shirt under it but keeps the mask on. You like the mask on.

“I… I need you, Mr. Ghostface, please,” you whimper. Since he pulled you by your ankles back to the edge of the bed, your centers lightly graze one another. You make it a point to grind your hips eagerly into his, smearing the front of his pants with your slick.

The masked man hums in appreciation. You feel his hardened length concealed by his pants. Whimpers leave your mouth as you sit up and reach forward, unbuttoning the black pants with shaky hands. You unzip him and yank him free of his confines. You nearly freeze at his length, prominent veins lining up and down his cock from his pink tip to his swollen balls.

“You wanna live tonight, baby girl?” The low southern voice asks. You quickly nod, big, desperate eyes wanting to fill his every carnal need.

“Then get on your fucking knees, m’gonna fuck your throat.”

He’s aggressive as he pulls you down onto the floor by your hair. You scream out of instinct, but the heat on your scalp brings needy relief.

You quickly scramble properly to your knees and shuffle your hand over him. One hand isn’t enough, so you add your second. He’s so large and girthy. Fucking your mouth would hurt so good. You hope you’re a slobbering mess for him once he’s done with you.

“Did I say your hands?” You frown and slowly stop, shaking your head. “I said your throat, want your fucking throat, you little slut.”

You whimper and force yourself to put your hands behind your back, your breasts perking out more as you spit over him, watching it glide down his shaft and spill onto your shaking thighs. You lick your lips and wrap your mouth around his sensitive tip.

The masked man seethes through his teeth. He takes off both gloves and knots his fingers into your hair. You’re intimidated by his size, anyone would be, so you try to relax your throat and let him sink further and further in.

Your eyes go wide as he rams himself down your throat impatiently. Your hands instinctively fly up to his thighs, smacking at them and clutching desperately, trying to explain with a lack of words that you’re choking on him. You cry out, but his cock muffles you.

“M’not a patient man, I’m warning you now.”

You clench your teary eyes closed and sniffle, trying your best to swallow around him and breathe through your nose. Your black mascara tears turns him on, and he twitches in your mouth.

With a shaky breath, you try again. You have to start slow at first, but you remember how impatient he is. You slick his cock with your spit, trying to work up his shaft inch by inch.

“Open your mouth up, nice and wide for me.” The sight of his mask makes you twitch, but you do as he says and drop your jaw for him. You even go as far as to stick out your tongue for him.

“Wow,” he admires, as both of his hands wind up into your hair and carve out sections of your hair to create ponytails in his fists. “Such a good girl f’me.”

His praise makes you purr, bringing your hands up to your front as you massage over the squishy flesh of your tits.

You let out a low mewl as he stuffs your mouth again, stuffing your face with his cock. It takes a few moments, but you gradually learn how to accommodate him. He hits the back of your throat repeatedly, and he likes it when you choke around him. You try to see him through your teary eyes, whimpering around his cock.

The masked man’s grip on your hair tightens as he pulls you into his cock and holds you there, balls flushed to your mouth as they smack against your chin. He groans, long and low, holding you down as his cock suffocates your throat. You swallow around him, tasting drops of precum, whimpering around him as you struggle to breathe. Despite it causing you to choke even more around him, you stick out as much of your tongue as you can and teasingly lick at his balls.

He sucks in harshly through his teeth and moans, gripping the ponytails even tighter, making your scalp sear in pain. But it was all worth it because he was so goddamn big in your throat. You hoped he would split your pussy.

With a harsh yank, the masked man rips you from his cock. You instantly cough and gag, trying to swallow around the excessive puddles of saliva grouping in the back of your throat and now dripping out of your mouth. You looked like a disgusting mess.

You plant your hands on the floor and drop your head, looking like a dog as you shakily regain your breathing. You slowly look up, seeing his hardened cock slap up against his toned stomach, dripping with your slobber.

You meekly wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and stand up, your legs shaking beneath you. With as much courage as you can muster, you reach for Ghostface’s hand and slowly pull it to your center as you sit on the edge of the bed.

“Please,” you beg in a meek whisper, swallowing the messy amount of existing saliva and precum down your throat as you blink through black, mucky, mascara tears. Your eyes flutter as his long, meaty fingers slowly circle around your clit through your panties. It’s jaw-dropping, stomach-fluttering madness. It’s like he knows you like the back of your hand. “Please, fuck me.” You whisper desperately, pulling him slowly towards the direction of the bed. Towards you.

You don’t feel any more safe with him, but you like the excitement of feeling on the fence. Would he be rough or gentle with you? Call you his sweet girl or his little slut? The edging of unsureness and torrid manipulation has forced white hot heat to pool into your core, and you sure as hell spoiled these red panties enough.

The masked man drops his gaze to your mound. His hands reach up to the sides of your hips.

It’s slow and desperate at first, he almost fools you. Ghostface weakly chuckles before he begins to rip the measly material from your lower half. You yelp out as it causes your body to get tugged around. Your panties are now a mess of threads on the floor. You whimper desperately, clamping your thighs closed on instinct despite wanting the opposite.

Ghostface grabs your ankles and forcibly parts your legs, turning his head slowly as he watches your glistening core.

“Y-You could have a taste, y’know, if you take off the mask.” You offer, your heart pounding in your chest. You loosely hook your leg around his hip and pull him closer. Ghostface plants his hands on either side of your head, hovering over you as his heavy breath puffs through the mask.

Ghostface pulls one hand away to his side and shucks something off his belt. You gasp and flinch your eyes closed as a large knife glimmers in the moon’s light.

“You think I’m going to show you my face, you stupid bitch? Huh?” He taunts you, wielding the knife closer and closer to your throat as you cry out, but clamp your legs tighter around his waist and pull your centers together. You can feel his fat cock sliding up and down your exposed folds. You’re so needy, and it’s repulsive.

He sickeningly laughs, jutting the tip of his knife against the underside of your chin. It hurts, it stings, and you hope it leaves a mark from him so you can look at it later when you replay this night in your mind. You hope he spares you so you can think endlessly about him.

“I-I want you to keep the mask on.” You purr nervously, your hand drifting down your stomach towards your exposed mound.

Ghostface chuckles, low and demonic. “You want me to fuck you with the mask on?” He asks slowly, trilled with curiosity.

It fills you with a pit of guilt and shame in your stomach. But you slowly nod. You were willing to risk everything, your boyfriend, your safety, your life, just to ensure this man filled you to the brim like you know he could.

“Please do. Fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.” You beg. Though you can’t see, you imagine him smirking behind his mask, looking at you with a sense of intrigue and disgust. How could you be so twisted?

“My pleasure.” He says goadingly, ripping the hold you had on the sheets and yanking you closer to the edge of the bed. You cry out as he forcibly spreads your legs with his body and slaps his cock against your aching center. You’re so sensitive from waiting, you needed to have him this very second.

A smirk twitched on your lips, but you forced yourself to bite it down, shakily moaning as Ghostface tucks away his knife and wraps his large hand around his cock, lining up his tip to your dripping center. You flinch every time he purposely flicks your anxious bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your hand clutching his bicep greedily. “Please, need to feel you inside of me.” You whimper.

Ghostface reaches up and smears his hand down your face, your cheeks smudged with your mucky tears as you whine like a little brat. For your insolence, he strikes you across the face before nastily grabbing you by your cheeks and forcing you to look at him.

“Bein’ a real fuckin’ brat for a stranger’s dick, such a fucking hungry cock slut, aren’t you?” He degraded you to your very core, soiling his cock in your gushing slick. You were pretty sure that if he even just breathed over your mound, you would come.

Ghostface enjoys your desperate whimpers for his dick. He’s more than happy to deliver. He angles his tip to your entrance and notches himself inside. Your gasp surges his adrenaline as he parts you egregiously.

You hook your hands on the underside of your legs, keeping yourself wide and spread for the masked man above you. Inch by inch, you feel your head lose focus, your mind floating as you see stars that consume your vision.

The moans you give him are heavenly, he thinks he’s never heard a more beautiful thing. He’s a sadist watching you take his cock, knowing it hurts, knowing you’re forcing yourself open for him, knowing how much you’re drunk off it. He just can’t help himself to wait.

Air is knocked from your lungs when Ghostface decides he’s, again, not a patient man. He fucks the last few inches into you and hard, pushing you to your limits and filling you to the brim.

Your head is thrown back as you scream in shock, never having been fucked by someone who feels so good. You sob as your walls flutter around him, attempting to accommodate the size in such a short amount of time.

“Yes! Jesus Christ- Fuck!” You moan out, to which Ghostface chuckles lowly.

“Take me so well,” he’s trying to breathe through being squeezed so tightly by your walls, even he finds it difficult. “Such a pretty girl, just needs to be fucked to keep her- shit - her goddamn mouth shut.” The man growls behind the mask and starts to fuck you at an earth-shattering pace.

You cry out in shock, gripping Ghostface at his biceps and whimpering at how strong he is. He pulls himself nearly all the way out of you before he flushes his hips right back to you, slapping your ass cheeks with his clothed thighs. That’s when he really begins to rail you.

You see stars, still adjusting to his size, your slick pooling around him with excitement. You hazily smile, fucked dumb by a stranger, filled to the brim as you stare at the ceiling. Your visions jumps up and down as Ghostface pounds you senselessly. The bedframe rattles and the legs skirt against the hardwood floors.

Impatient whines from you fill the room as he pulls himself from your pussy, moaning out for him needily. He manhandles you, grabbing your hips forcefully and flipping you over onto your stomach.

“Ass up, let’s go.” He commands.

You were still in a funk, head wiped empty of any palpable information. You whimpered as you tried to move but at the pace of a snail.

His impatient hands grip you tightly at your hips, forcing a broken yelp from your throat as he pulls you up to bend over, shoving your face into the mattress and angling your ass up for him to use.

“Yes, please use me,” you whimper desperately, reaching your hands back and parting your ass cheeks for him. “Finish inside me, use me as your cum dumpster.” Where was this language coming from?! This wasn’t you, you didn’t sound or look like you. He was turning you into someone new, someone satisfied by his anonymity. You’d never know who was fucking you senseless, and it might drive you mad until you find out, if you ever will, that is.

Your thoughts are squashed from your mind as a harsh slap followed by a greedy grip is splayed across your ass. A yelp is pulled from your throat, instincts telling you to flinch away and protect yourself.

“Ah-ah,” the man teases, his angry fingers creating bruises on your hips as he pulls you back to the edge of the bed to be his little sex servant. “Good girls take what they are given, so take it,” Ghostface says as he smacks your other cheek, reddening them both, jiggling the flesh much to his appeal.

His large palms seared his prints into your ass, gripping your ass and pulling you to his cock. He lines himself up, and you take him again.

You don’t understand unless it’s happening to you, how it feels like you’re floating in space, fucked numb but also feeling like you’re on pins and needles. It’s indescribable to enjoy being fucked by a stranger, but it’s happening, and it’s happening to you.

He penetrates you, parting your walls, making himself a home inside you. You squeeze around him, and he moans. It satisfies you so intensely.

“Beg for me,” he mutters through the mask, grunting with each thrust. He must be close.

“P-Please, keep fucking me so good, please Mr. Ghostface-”

“No!” He strikes your pretty ass again, hard, and your warm flesh singes with heat. You whimper, imagining how red, angry, and large his handprint looks stamped on your ass.

“Want you to beg... for your life.” His voice had turned as cold as stone, ridged with a sadist tone that left goosebumps bubbling on the surface of your skin. A scared feeling sunk into the pit of your stomach. You swallowed a lump down your throat and shyly peeked around your shoulder to take him in.

“P-Please… I want to live,” you whimper, your hands fisting the sheets as Ghostface slowly picks back up the paces of his thrusts. He’s turned on by this.

“Oh my- please, I know you d-don’t know me, but I’m good, l-look how good I’m being for you,” you begin to cry as he fucks you harder, your ass clapping aggressively against his thighs and the grip he has on your hips intensifies.

He loves fucking you until you cry. Such a sadist.

Ghostface gives a few last gut-twisting thrusts, and his tip kisses your cervix repeatedly. He’s so large you can feel him in your tummy. His hand reaches around your hip, and the other stays gripping your ass while he spanks your clit lightly with his fingers.

“Fuck!” You cry out, beginning to throw your ass back into him, creating your own unique rhythm together. You’re so sensitive, and you’re coming before you can even fully register it.

“Mr. Ghostface, please,” you whimper. “I-I’m coming so fu-ucking hard,” you mewl for him, your thighs twitching along with your walls that squeeze around him, begging to milk him for his seed.

Ghostface’s thick and angry cock twitches inside of you, desperate to fill your needy hole with his sperm. He grunts and pants into the mask, filling his own body with a heat that makes him sweat. He pounds himself into you until you’re flattened against the mattress, begging for release, begging to live.

There’s something about your obedience that he gives into, his cock twitching deep inside the warm comfort of your walls and between your beautiful ass cheeks. He pulls out and pants, handling his cock as he paints your ass white.

The warm droplets of come make you twitch, but it’s so hot to be painted white by the man who praised you and degraded you all night long.

You’re a heap of nothing strewn about the mattress. You can’t seem to calm your shaky breath. You lay there limp, unable to move, unable to think. All you can think about is the man behind the mask and how irate and perverted he is. And how much you fell into his trap.

Shame twisted your guts enough, forcing you to get up and turn around and face your stalker. But when you turned back, he was gone. How long were you not paying attention?

You quickly retrieved your robe, forcing yourself to walk despite your legs feeling like liquid gelatin. Checking room to room, you survey your boyfriend's home and are left empty-handed. It’s like he was never here.

From the top of the stairs, you hear the door open and close.

“Honey?” Your heart sinks, hearing your boyfriend kick off his shoes on the mat.

Rushing down the stairs, you collapse into his arms and cry out of guilt. You tell him everything. Everything besides the show in front of the windows and getting fucked by Ghostface in his own bed. There’s more to leave out than to leave in, but the short story is that you were taunted over the phone by a masked man, scared to death, and begged for your life.

His first reaction was to call the police, and despite how much you hesitated, you let him. Two nice offers responded to the call. They sat you two down separately and asked you what had happened. You were wrapped in a blanket and your robe, shaking in disappointment.

It was scary, lying to the cops, withholding all of the truth. Making sure not to overshare any details. You also didn’t want to give away that you liked it. To the bone, you liked it.

You were hunted like prey tonight, used, fucked hard until you couldn’t breathe. Left in the dark, feeling a little crazy if it even happened in the first place. But you could feel him still inside of you, stretched and still leaking between your thighs. You tugged your robe tighter, smiling weakly at the officer as he closed his notebook.

“We’ll figure out what we can ma’am. For now, keep everything locked up. I wouldn’t leave the house alone.” You wipe away the mucky mascara on your cheeks and sigh, nodding as you walk with the officer to the door.

His badge read J. Miller. He was older, stippled with grey hair within his dark curly locks. He had an aquiline nose and plumish-rose lips. His broad chest strikes something somewhat familiar to you. He glances behind you at the officer who is still asking your boyfriend a few questions.

Officer Miller sighed, looking over the door frame curiously.

“Said you locked the doors?”

You hesitate but nod compliantly.

His pointer finger shapes over the lock, then the entry metal hinge. “No forced entry.” He notes, looking at you curiously.

You evade his eye contact and conceal yourself tighter in your blanket and robe. “I.. I don’t know how he got in.” Your eyes find the floor, planting themselves there as you stare at Officer Miller’s familiar black police boots.

He hums curiously, looking over you slowly.

“You’re tellin’ me everythin’ that happen to you tonight?”

Your doe eyes go wide, your head snapping up to Officer Miller’s. “I-I promise, please, Officer Miller-”

He holds up a hand to cut you off, and you weakly stand there with your lips parted. Then he starts to nod and slowly smile. “That’s a good girl.”

It strikes you like a bolt of lightning, fear and curiosity consume you. You hear footsteps behind you, the other officer, and your boyfriend, who collects his arm around your shoulders.

Officer Miller watches you with a glint of intrigue but nothing more. His eyes shift to your boyfriend’s arm protectively wrapped around you. It makes him twitch up a stomach-twisting smile before he turns to his fellow officer.

“Got everything you need?” Officer Miller asks, tucking his thumbs into the front of his belt while he observes the other officer’s notepad. The officer nods and places his small notebook and pen in his breast pocket.

“Got everything we need. You two stay safe.”

The other officer ducks out first and nods curtly, Officer J. Miller stands there a moment longer.

“Happy Halloween.” He said with a sickening smile. “Be sure to lock the door behind me.”

You gulp as you look over Officer Miller meekly before he disappears outside and into the night. Where he belonged.

---

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phantom-playdough · 1 year

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LMK Migraine HC's:

How would Sun Wukong, MK, Macaque, and Ne zha handle their s/o having a migraine?

Sun Wukong

I think we all can agree that in the beginning, Wukong would really not know what to do or even what was happening to you at first.

HOWEVER

that doesn't mean he isn't concerned when he walks into your room to find all the lights off and zero noise with you on the bed.

But cmon, he would probably be accidentally annoying at first.

"What're you doing, Y/n? It's so dark in here! Lemme fix that!" He would yell loudly.

After you snap at him to get away from the curtains and threaten to turn him into a rug, he realizes he f*cked up.

So, he just heads over to the bed and whisper, "How can I help?"

After explaining you have a migraine and if you're still mad at him, he’d understand and leave you be, but not before leaving pain pills and water at your bedside.

But if you forgive him, he won’t leave your side till the migraine passes.

Ofc, he would be quiet and leave the curtains closed.

Water, painkillers, whatever you need, he will get it.

(Side note: he probably struggle getting the painkillers since he can't read. But plz be patient with him!!!!! He baby boi!)

Then...

THE CUDDLES!

I feel like if you have long hair, he probably would brush his claws through it or even braid it to try and distract you from the pain.

If you don’t have longer hair, he would probably just massage your temples while VERY softly humming a song that hasn’t been played in centuries.

Even after your migraine is gone, you ain’t leaving that bed for a while ‘cause it’s so comfortable…

AND because you are being held hostage by the king of monkey’s.

“Wukong, we have to get up.”

“NOOO!”

Macaque

I actually wouldn’t be surprised if Macaque has migraines.

I mean, come on. The man’s got six ears. So sensitive hearing to me seems like a strong trigger for him.

I feel like he might also hate really bright lights cause he is more used to dark environments. Idk if that’s just me or not tho.

So when he comes over and finds you in your bedroom with the lights off, curtains or blinds closed, complete silence, and painkillers on your bedside, Macaque already knew what was going on.

Mommy Macaque to the rescue!!!!

He goes and gets a wet tea towel, before placing it on your head to alleviate the pain.

But he will also be a gentleman about it too to be better

“Hey, (Nickname). I got a wet towel for you. You want me to put it on your head?”

Nods aggressively

Macaque may typically have a lot of barriers up, even with you.

(He can't help it)

But seeing you in pain throws that out the window along with the kitchen sink.

Sooooooooo…

PREPARE TO BE PAMPERED BABY!!!!!!!!

He would get WHATEVER you want!

ESPECIALLY cuddles, huggles, and snuggles!

But once he starts to cuddle with you........

Similar to Wukong, I feel like he won’t you go even after the migraine is gone without a fight first.

“Come onnnn, (Nickname)… five more minutes.”

“Macaque, you said that half an hour ago."

MK would probably be in the middle ground between Wukong and Macaque.

When they come over and find you curled up on the couch with all light and sound blocked, his first thought would be that you are napping. But then they notice your eyes squeeze shut tightly and groan.

"MK? Can you get me some painkillers?" You ask.

MK bolted down the hall to the bathroom to get the painkillers, before proceeding to forget to get you a glass of water.

Once you take the medicine, MK asks softly what's wrong.

"Migraine..."

MK understood. Even though he doesn't struggle with them, I actually imagine Pigsy does.

So, they just do what he does for when Pigsy gets a migraine.

First, a wet tea towel.

Second, water.

Third, food.

IF you can't eat, however, he would encourage you to at least try ONE bite.

If you aren't able to try one bite, however, MK wouldn't be upset. They'd understand and would be right in the middle of leaving before you cut him off.

"Xiaotian, can you stay with me?"

They do, of course. He would be slightly nervous cuddling because they would hate to hurt you somehow.

Even when you assure him that you won't get hurt from a little cuddling, they would still be a little apprehensive at first. But once you fall asleep, looking so peaceful beneath him...

MK'S HEART WOULD EXPLODE

They wouldn't have the heart to leave you alone and would stay.

Honestly, Pigsy and/or Wukong would have to physically pull him away from you.

But they just don't wanna leave you alone...!!!!

Ne zha

I also think Ne zha may possibly have some small experience with migraines.

Mostly 'cause Wukong gave him one too many...

But when he walks into your apartment to find the lights out and seeing you curled up in bed in the middle of the day, his first thought was that something bad happened to you.

What if a demon came in and attacked you?!

What if you were dying!?

What if?! WhAt If!?!?!

"Ne zha, can you close the door? The hallway light hurts..."

Only then did Ne zha realize his spiraling thoughts were pointless.

So, he would do as told before gently kneeling down by your bedside and ask, "What is wrong, love?"

"Migraine..."

Like I said, I feel like he may have experience with these things.

BUT

Not with a mortal.

I imagine things like a migraine for a deity is like a cakewalk compared to a mortal.

ESPECIALLY if you have chronic migraines. (Like mwah)

How-in-is-the-ever, Ne zha would NEVER let you suffer without trying to stop the pain.

So, he would ask what typically helps your migraines.

He would probably try all the at-home remedies in the book.

Warm tea and water to keep you hydrated, a wet tea towel, something small to eat, you name it he will get it.

This man would commit mass genocide to make sure your pain is alleviated.

But when you ask him to stay and cuddle with you, he would likely stutter and blush.

BUT he recover relatively quickly and do just that.

The key difference between Ne zha and the others above is that he actually would let you go once your migraine is gone.

At least, he would if you had somewhere to go.

If ya don't, he will only keep cuddling until you grow weary of it.

He doesn't want to keep you from doing what you need to do just 'cause he loves holding you against him...in his arms...with your soft skin...

No but seriously, will let you go when and only when you decide you need to get up. Very sweet and considerate like that, you could say.

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hastyprovocateur · 8 months

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Coaches Don't Play

(Coach! Abby x Soccer mom! Reader)

Summary- reader is a single mom determined to keep her act right for the sake of her son, but when his new, crushingly gorgeous coach enters the frame, she might have to ask herself some hard questions.

Word count- 12k

Cw- fluff, sexual content (ripping clothes, tribbing), mature themes (guilt, separation, divorce, single-parent struggles, mentions of domestic violence, sexual harassment, puritanism, homophobia, all-boys Christian school)

Reader desc- reader is a mom and has a name+surname, named son/ is not heavy on physical description)

Pickup at Noon

“The person you're calling is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone." Still radio silence on the coach’s end. You clicked your phone shut, tossing it into your lap as you white-knuckled the steering wheel. The light took an eternity to turn green. The school office line was already busy. A school zone sign stuck out like an accusatory finger as you drove out finally. The minimal outline of the mother and child, hand-in-hand, appeared to mock you; what with your relationship with your only son on the rocks.

How did I forget… how did I forget… you chanted under your breath as a by-passer yelled at you for cutting him before. It was elevator music at this point. Whether it’ll compound with the verbal lashing at the office from Bill, your boss, making after-school pickup an n circle of hell, you’d find out at night. When the day crushed your temples; threatened to split your skull open like a clam. It was all this, going on grave-ward.

You pulled into the school parking in your messy Civic. The passenger seat sat piled with manilas, cigarette boxes, and empty coffee to-go’s. A wrapped sub sandwich remained half-eaten from a couple mornings back. Running breakfast situation. You shoved whatever you could in the glove box, throwing the rest in the back before grabbing your handbag. Your panty hose shifted as you got out the car. Itchy seam on soft skin.

Throwing a frustrated glance around the parking lot, you adjusted yourself, lint-picking your pencil skirt for insurance. Tilting the cracked side-view mirror up, you wiped the lipstick overlining the bow of your lip, scraped the smudge of mascara below an eye, smoothed a loose lock down the side of your face.

Zion City had a spare handful of private elementary schools offering football, your son’s sport of choice. His father’s, more like. Things used to be different. There was a 5-year plan. House with a picket fence. In sickness and health. Us and ours. A silver lining.

Now you looked at pieces of it on the floor, asking if there was anything at all. Yes, he was protective… he loved you. He wanted all of you. And he did until there was very little of you left. It started with slamming doors, screaming at night. A slap. It can’t be true. You’d pray like a stuck record, beg to wake up with your eyes open. But you didn’t until one morning as you faced a mirror. Gash in cheek. Staring down blood in the sink.

The preppy, Saints-associated, all-boys private school was very much for European wonder. Pointed arches, ribbed vault ceilings, and glass stained windows supplying the hefty tuition fee. Fielding the entire cost of your son’s education tempted you every day to transfer him. You wanted to pick up the shambles, cut losses, and move across state. But your heart couldn’t bear to crush him with more changes than you’d already dealt him.

He needed his friends, the old house, neighbors they’d grown with. The skewed swing you put together one day in the spring. Besides… the school fields were immaculate in all their green splendor. You had to admit as you ran across the side of the building, down to the back. Heels clicking on concrete, you arrived a perfect mess at the stairs leading into the third block. “I’m so sorry I got late… I had this work… thing” words go amiss from your tongue as you see your son sitting with a blonde stranger, watching her flip a quarter.

He laughed, the dimples sinking into his chubby cheeks after Lord knew how long. She had him enthralled, her tall frame lay sprawled back on the stairs, elbows propping her up as she smoothly danced the coin over her fingers, hiding it in her palm. Her conversation came easy, long ponytail punctuating her animated facial expressions. You shifted on your heels, legs squirming ever so slightly.

“Dylan, honey…” you called out, hand outstretched, waving to get his attention. She noticed you first, beaming brightly at you in the late noon sun, straightening up with respectful poise. Pocketing the quarter. You noticed her broad shoulders, filling out her inky jacket all too well. “Think your mom’s here, bud” she slapped her thighs veiled in sweatpants, yellow whistle jostling in the middle of her chest. His face fell at the mention of you, betraying your already broken heart, but you concealed it.

“Hey, churro pop!” You tried to greet him, but he acted like you hadn't, numbly getting to his feet, putting his backpack on. All traces of joy from seconds ago were now dissolved. The young woman gauged the switch in energy, eyes flitting between mother and son. “I’m Anderson… the new Coach” she interjected, cordially extending a hand. It dwarfed yours, calloused fingers shrouding your hand before giving it a firm shake.

It made your dainty gold wristwatch tinkle from the motion. You stared up at her blue eyes, the spattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose, high cheekbones. Youth spelled evident on her plump, pink lips. You felt a hitch in your throat as you ran a conscious hand up your blouse, closing the topmost button you’d carelessly left open all day. Your brain wracked.

“Oh” it clicked “That’s why Coach Carlson wasn’t... picking up… I tried to get through” You ran out of breath immediately. Strain hid below your tongue, sat like weight on your chest. Deflating you. You lowered your eyes, letting your exhaustion have its moment. “Yeah, it’s been a couple weeks” the young coach informed you, idly punching her open palm with the other fist “He moved to St George. To his daughter's”

Dylan bristled before you even spoke. “Baby, you never told me” You brought it up gently, except it landed like an axe. Maybe he did? You thought as his eyes deadened; face overcast with a shadow. He shook his head, storming towards the car, leaving you stranded with the new coach. You watched his little figure turn the corner and remember the skip in his step when he first started school. Head bobbing and his backpack swinging behind him.

The accusatory fingers returned. They weren’t in your face, but they filled your skull, fighting out your chest.

“He’s… mad at me” you muttered

“He’s just 9”

You gravely turned to the young woman “I missed his game.” “No, you didn’t” she shook her head, assuring sincerely “It was just practice round. Interschool got postponed by 2 weeks.” That simmered a quickly flooding guilt inside you, defusing something about to blow up. You exhaled in relief, spluttering as you wrung your hands “I promise I-I never miss his big matches. Rarely weekend practice. I do reach school on time. Just when, sometimes I rush in from work. I always leave a message for Carlson, then call Dylan from the office to make sure he’s-”

“Hey” Anderson’s eyes softened as she touched your arm, dragging the back of her knuckles down to your elbow “It’s okay” she assured you. Your shoulders dropped at the physical contact, melting the pent-up tension stiffening them like resin. You glanced at her hand and back up at her, brows scrunching above your doe eyes. A sudden proximity, forlorn depths in your gaze. Anderson dropped her hand upon realising, pocketing it as you rubbed your arms consciously. “I don’t mind staying back for a bit… Mrs Hendricks” her voice trickled slow. Deep.

“Angela” you managed a small smile, adjusting the handle on your purse as you shift your weight on one heel, part of your conscious focused on your son. “I’m…” “Divorced?” the new coach affirmed, seemingly aware of the family dynamics. “Separated. In the process of… divorce” you gave a brusque nod, pause weighing the air. With pretenses aside, you brought up your biggest concern “Is he okay?”. The coach drew a long breath, calm despite the choppy domestic matter she faced “Dylan’s our star goalie. A straight A student” she shrugged, smiling to comfort “He’s just struggling the way any child would.” “It’s… not just that” your whisper carried dead weight, grief.

“Mrs-” Anderson raised a finger to her lips to correct herself “Angela, I might be too young to understand marriage and children but I do see that you’re a great mom. I’m sure you’re trying your best.” You pursed your lip, lest you burst out into tears. Her voice touched a part too deep and wounded. You managed a grateful nod, pressing the back of your hand to your throat to push the lump down “I should… get back” you turned to leave, ankles struggling to hold up in your heels.

“Hey” she called after you, jogging to catch up and placing an innocuous hand on your back, causing a shift so mild, you barely felt it. “Why don’t you save my number?” she suggested, a touch of pink in her cheeks “I can keep you posted about important dates. For pickup or if you’d like to talk about Dylan.” “Oh” you blinked nervously, fumbling for your phone “sure’ you handed it out, flipping it open for her.

Anderson pored over the screen with focus as she fed her number in, handing it back “Put that in as Abigail. No! Just Abby.” “Abby” you echoed as you save the contact, hanging back ever so slightly to let your arm touch graze against hers. It felt like you were milking the moment, having felt nothing all this while only to come to feel something so strong. “Also” the coach bowed her head close, passing on a secret “I could be wrong but I think I accidentally unhooked your bra just now.” You swiftly averted your eyes, feeling up your back and realizing that the ends had indeed, come apart, leaving your breasts unsupported.

“Fuck” you cursed softly. Though Abby bit her lip apologetically, she barely masked the satisfaction. “I’ll… fix it later” you felt blood rush to your face, beating a hasty retreat. “Take care, Angie!” Abby called after you. A hand in pocket, other throwing the whistle around her neck triumphantly.

Later that evening

You double-checked the latch on your bedroom door, standing before your vanity mirror in your lace gown. It had been ages since it meant anything at all. To adorn yourself in the sheer silk and be slowly unraveled. It had been ages since you’d been touched tenderly, explored, and laid open like pages of a book, fingers running along every line. All that remained was a wretched mass left behind from a loveless marriage. You gulped as you pushed the strap down to expose your breasts.

They’d lost their former perkiness, sitting heavy and low. Milky blue veins and pale stretch marks ran around them like cracks of thunder. You cupped them gently, trying to remember what it felt like with your eyes closed. In sudden colorful musing, you imagined them being replaced by the young coach’s rough, warm hands. Running up your ribs and cupping you. The size of them perfect for her large palms. Tracing them gently as your nipples edged into her touch.

The stairs creaked as Dylan headed down to the kitchen, and you snapped out of it. You pressed the heel of your hand to your reddened face, and the mirror reflected your shame as you threw a robe over the gown, securing the cord tight.

Dinner across the four-seater was gravely somber. You served yourself a scarce portion of the pasta salad after doling heaps for Dylan, watching him spoon some into his mouth before moving to have some yourself. “Good?” you asked softly as he dug in with more spoonfuls, and he shrugged “It’s how it always is.” You fought the immediate woe upon seeing his disinterest. It was a losing battle. “Must be always good, then” you laughed a hollow laugh. Only for him to exhale, followed by an equally nonchalant “whatever.”

Painstaking silence ensued, and you struggled to push each morsel down your throat. A sip of water lubricated your words. “Your new coach is quite cute” you remarked after doing the mental gymnastics to bring up something he liked. “Yeah… she’s cool” Dylan responded after a while. “She said your interschool is in a couple weeks” you scratched the cheap synthetic tablecloth “Are you nervous?”.

“Don’t act like you know soccer” he snapped. Your jaw dropped with a sharp exhale, and you tried to cover it with a nervous laugh “What?” you grazed your chest “I… know soccer. I take you to all your games, we practiced when you were a baby, I was cheering on you when you won last season!”. He turned sour “Not like dad used to do” “Well, he’s not here now, is he!” you snapped back, regretting the moment it left your lips.

He stared at you, steeling his gaze as his soul turned away from you. He quietly got up, abandoning the half-eaten plate of food before leaving the room. “Dylan!” you call after him “Honey! I didn’t-”. It didn’t seem to matter. You couldn’t bring his father back for him, and he’d never let you forget that that he left. You could move wherever and so would the sinkhole he left in the house. One no amount of love can fill. You bit your tongue to distract yourself from the welling tears in your eyes, pushing your plate away.

Bedtime

Before bed, you checked your phone. It was chalked with the usual messages. Work, network service company info, local businesses, and scammers trying their luck. You’d long stopped receiving follow-up messages from fellow moms. Friends had faded in the process of tearing apart from your husband. He’d been the life of the party, rousing gatherings and infusing them with slapstick jokes. Always the funny guy. Which made you the shadowy outcast, the bad cop, the one to blame when things went awry.

Hence, why Abby’s message made your chest stiffen slightly. Butterflies tickled your ribs as you looked it over and over. She’d just sent herself a “<3” from your phone, perhaps making sure she saved your number as well. It doesn’t mean anything; you told yourself. As you moved to shut your phone, it burst into the sparkly digital ringtone you’d set ages ago. “Abby” it read on the caller id.

You clicked accept in a daze, realizing with the static-y blare of air on the other end that she was genuinely talking to you. “Hey, Angie!” her voice hit better than bourbon, running down your spine. “Good evening, coach…” you reply in wisps of words, breath irregular “Sorry… Abby”

“Is now a bad time? I know it’s late…”

“No, it’s alright”

“Cool” she bought a deep pause, seeming unsure of what to say next “… I just wanted to ask if… you and Dylan are doing okay.” You bit your lip, well-versed with standard answers “Yeah! He ate his dinner. Took care of his laundry. He’s doing his homework before bed” you counted off your imaginary fingers, hoping it was convincing enough.

“And you?” Abby furthered, taking you by surprise.

“Me?”

“What about you? How’re you?”

“I’m…” you fiddled with the hem of your nightie, fingering a hole in the lace “okay.” “Angie” Abby uttered, the faint sound of a TV in the back, match commentary in progression. You heard her suck air into her lungs for courage “You can talk to me, you know.” You pressed your thighs close, the tenor in her voice more penetrative to the senses than anything. It was scary how eager she had you over a phone call, fighting thoughts of how you’d be if she was close.

“There’s nothing to say. I really am… okay” you assured her despite the ever-present urge to unburden your whole heart “I’m sorry if I had you worry” you laughed for effect.

Abby chuckled in reply, clicking her tongue. Tough crowd, you heard her mutter under her breath. She cleared her throat “Can I see you in my office? Tomorrow?” she asked. You pressed a hand to your warm forehead, feeling yourself flush “Y-yeah… I suppose I can” you stammered nervously, to which Abby promised “Don’t worry, I just want to help.”

Next Day at the school office

You consciously bounced a knee in your cold chair, watching a handful of parents milling around the main office. You wondered what they’d been called in for. Failing calc? Smoking on campus? Jerking off into the teacher’s pigeonhole? You knew for a fact that some of them deserved it. The leather strap of your shoe dug in your ankle, compelling you to adjust the little gold buckle. A pair of white sneakers came to a halt near you, familiar ones. You peered up at the new coach. She smiled down at you, holding a hand out for you to hold. Her eyes inconspicuously flit towards your cleavage, and you blushed, sliding a hand up your chest. “Need help with that?” she asked softly, kneeling by your undone heel strap.

“No… it’s okay” you discouraged her but she gently moved your hand aside, feeding the leather into the buckle and securing it. “I’m quite handy with silly kid’s shoes, I’ll have you know” she tilted her head; hand wrapped around the underside of your shoe. “Women’s heels too?” you chuckled, shrouding the shiver from the way her hand grazed your ankle, how she knelt before you. Abby shrugged, smiling “New notch on my belt.” You headed through to the sports department. The trainer’s office was located on the opposite side of the building facing the field. “Like they didn’t know where it was going to be” Abby joked as she held the office door open for you, the metal plate outside still reading “Carlson.”

You looked at the partly disordered space, a fresh box of trophies and certificates in one, everything smelt like rubber. There stood a photo frame boasting of a grainy photo of a little girl with a braid, hoisted on the shoulders of a man. Dad and daughter. “They don’t pay me much, if you’re wondering” Abby joked, and you turned to her, smiling “They make me pay a lot.” “Well, thanks to you… I don’t have to share” she boasted, shaking her head.

The photograph lingered at your periphery, but you let the questions go for the meantime. “Thank you for meeting with me…” you said, a tone more serious, as she pulled a chair away from her desk for you, watching you settle down in it. “Me?” Abby frowned, leaning back against the side of the table, not too far from you “I should be thanking you. I know your work can be hard to get away from”

“It’s okay. I do need to get more involved. I barely attend PTA meetings” You confessed, eliciting a concerned nod of acknowledgment from Abby, “Those… are quite the spectacle”

“Parents can be passionate” you shrugged

“There was a petition to make the campus segway friendly”

“I… wasn’t part of that” you stifled a laugh

“Lucky you” Abby crossed her arms, her slight movements drawing your eye to her zipper glinting halfway down her chest, urging you to drag it all the way down. See what’s hiding beneath. You shook your head, placing your palms face down on your lap “Hey… I… really hope Dylan isn’t misbehaving or giving you a hard time”

Keeping it to the point there, Angie.

“Not at all!” coach denied swiftly, making you wonder what the issue was “He’s giving his all to practice and school. Which is why I was concerned… he seems stressed.”

“Oh…” your gaze fell to your lap as Abby craned her neck low, inquisitive. “Has he said something at home? Anything about the upcoming competition?”.

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, stretching the pause out till it hurt your chest “Soccer season was always w-when… his dad would be home the most. At all his matches. They’d go on little hikes, drives, eat at his favorite diner, he’d buy him anything he asked for” you stretched your lips in a twisted smile “The house would be full.” Abby knit her brows, inching close to gently touch your shoulder as you fought the urge to start bawling. “He just misses his dad” her warm fingers slid down your back, almost breaking the dam holding it all back “a-and I don’t know what to do.”

Abby wordlessly pulled you against her front, your hands shakily wrapping around her waist as you steadied your breath. A tear still squeezed through, quickly bleeding into her jacket. “It’s okay” Abby rubbed your back, lightly combing your hair “You weren’t supposed to be doing it alone. It's not fair.”

You clutched your fingers deeper into her back, cinching at her shape through the loose athletic wear. Her fingers tickled the back of your neck, compelling you to pull away, peering up at her face. With your sweet lips rosied and wide eyes misty. Abby’s breath visibly hitched, chest falling still as she brought her hand towards your face, resting a thumb on your cheek, brushing your bottom lip. “No” you uttered breathlessly, curling into the chair.

Abby flew back into her desk, fingers digging into the wooden edge, visibly shaken as she drew jagged breaths. You covered your face in shame, breath hot against your palms “I’m so sorry.” “No, please” Abby brushed the air “You don’t have to apologize for anything.” “I’m sorry I…” you compose yourself, chin pinned to your shoulder “I can’t. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression and I don’t know why I just did that-”

“Hey, hey” Abby gathered your shaking hands as your guts twisted into knots “Hey… Nothing happened…” she asserted; blue eyes wide with her words firm “Nothing happened.”

You screwed your eyes close as you felt her hands shield yours, the weight of the emotion crushing your senses. “Yeah…” you collected yourself “you’re right” you consciously slip your hands out of her grip, clutching the arms of your chair “Nothing happened.”

Abby stared at the ground, idly punching her palm and letting the clock ticking on the wall swallow the whole incident. You strengthened your resolve, nodding “I’ll try and make things right with Dylan… I was planning on attending his weekend practice, anyway” you shrugged “I can fit in some stuff.”

“Sounds good” Abby remarked “don’t worry too much. I’ll do what I can from my side” she added. You raised your wrist to glance at the dial on your wristwatch. The metallic tinkle drew the young coach’s attention “Yeah… I need to head out to the field for PE class as well.”

You rose out of the chair, shuffling towards the door and reaching for the door knob, trying to maneuver it open. Abby came up behind, putting her hand over yours around the knob and holding it. Her breath ran warm down your neck. “By the way” a baited second passed “Coach Carlson didn’t move to his daughter’s.”

“What?” you whispered, clutching your purse as you turned to look at her. Abby licked her bottom lip, chuckle scratchy “They caught him with the guy who tends to the fields” she leaned closer “Utility closet down the corridor. Kicked him out the same day. Hired me three days later. Grateful as I was… I wonder” Abby steeled her eyes, hesitant yet bold as she grazed your wrist “If he regretted it…”

Morning of weekend practice

The car door shielded you from glances of the general passerby, soccer moms mostly. Also, from the cigarette between your fingers, cherry glowing bright as you sucked the smoke deep into your chest. The back of your throat tasted like cinnamon. You dug your fingers into your neck, lightly swinging as you sat on your haunches, delicately balanced on your high heels.

You’d battled for that half-day, leaving the temp in blaze amid ignored voice messages. You were determined to stay through weekend practice. An early drive home would be nice so you could spend some time together. Make a stop at the diner Dylan liked, ward off the bad luck with greasy food.

The inseam of your panty hose began irritating your skin again. “Cheap… fucking… shit” you forced a hand up your skirt, trying to relieve the itch.

“Hey, Angie” you heard from the sky above and nearly toppled to the side, throwing your elbow up to defend yourself from the unknown. “Coach!” you looked up to find Abby standing behind the door with her crossed arms propped on the window, smirking down at you. You quickly hid the hand holding the cigarette, moving to crush it under the point of your heel.

“No, save it…” Abby rounded the open car door, sliding down the side of the car to join you on the ground, big frame folding onto itself “Unless now’s a bad time” she whispered, holding two fingers out.

You released a chuckle, passing your cigarette to her, back of your fingers grazing hers in doing so “It’s never a bad time to sit and do nothing” you shrugged with a simple smile. “That’s the dream, isn’t it?” she watched your face keenly as she took a drag, blue smoke pouring from her lips. “I can’t imagine someone as healthy as you smoking” you mused and she raised a brow, staring at the ground “I usually don’t”

“Don’t let me ruin you”

“Too late”

You quietly plucked the cigarette from her fingers, your scarlet painted nails lightly scraping her hand. Her eyes connected with yours beyond a mere look. Deep and curious. “Why not the bleachers?” she inquired, and you bit your lip, flicking loose ash “I was hiding, I guess” you confessed.

“Me too” Abby chimed in exhaustion, casting a furtive glance back at the field. A flurry of moms monopolized the bleachers with folding tables decked out with food stuff for their beloved sons as they took a break from practice. Helicoptering and rallying what with the competition round the corner.

“You first” she shuddered in the shoulders before turning back to face you. “Let’s just say… a single mom on the verge of divorce doesn’t fare well in these shindigs.” “I can imagine” Abby raised a brow, and you nodded slowly “They’re always praying that he comes back. So my family can be whole. The way God intended."

Abby let the words linger, the bitterness in it evident, the false comfort. “Well…” she bit back a smile “I hope he falls off the edge of Earth.” That brought some warmth to your soul, eliciting a surprisingly loud laugh from your mouth "Not you being a flat-earther."

"I'm not" Abby's smile faded and you laughed harder "Flat-earther" you repeated for emphasis.

"That's not funny" Abby protested with dead eyes and you lost it. You bumped into her arm for buttress as you teeter once again, feeling the smooth ripple of her bicep beneath the sleeve of her jacket. It gave you another unwanted flash of how her bare arms would feel like as they wrap around your breasts. You squeezed your eyes shut “Why are you hiding?” you redirected your focus quickly.

“Well,” Abby reached back to smooth her ponytail “It’s a lot of pressure to begin with. The Dean is really keen on bringing the trophy this season even though I just joined and it doesn’t help that Carlson left most of the team is disorder. Plus… the moms can be…” she dragged out the silence, and you piqued with curiosity “Spit it out.”

“I know they mean well…” she fiddled with the cigarette, thumbing the ruby print left by your lipstick “But they can be really touchy.” You knit your brows with empathy “Tell me about it. I once got told off for a chicken casserole I cooked wrong. “No…” Abby blushed; legs splayed open as her knee poked into your thigh “Touchy as in… they touch me… a lot.”

You dropped your jaw, scandalized “What?”

“Yeah” she scrunched her nose in embarrassment “They call me round the clock, telling me to take their sons off the bench, asking about what to feed them, talking about troubles at home. They stand too close…” she shook her head. You widened your eyes, nail tips digging into your bottom lip. “Put their hands all over” Abby whispered, holding the cigarette out at your stunned face.

You shook yourself out of it, drawing the dregs from the dying cigarette before you finally managed a thought “That sounds like hell" you blew a raspberry "It's like they've never seen a buff woman”

“You think I’m buff?” Abby watched you fumble with words as you crushed the cigarette on the tarmac, dusting idle ash from your leather heels “I’m just stating the obvious.” Her blue eyes mellowed, scoping your evident blush. Seeking you out. For more.

“Tell me what you think” she leaned close.

“I thought you don’t like moms talking at you”

“Other moms, no”

“Well,” you shrugged lightly, scraping together your feelings “… We were raised on verses, tender mercies, and blind faith. Many bought into it. I did. I thought it would work for me the way it did for them. But now I look at how my life turned out, and then I look at you. You’re about the age I was when I got married, by yourself, doing what you like, the way you want… makes me question everything” you gathered your knees, resting your chin on top.

Abby playfully nudged her shoulders into yours, “You make me question everything too” she whispered “I used to think people who marry and have kids are insane. After my dad... I didn't want to take care of anyone for a long time. And it was good. Being free... having no one depend on me all the time. Though the empty house hurt sometimes” she gripped her bicep, considering deeply “But I see you with Dylan... and wonder what I'm missing out on”

“You’re not missing out on marriage” you tutted, biting the inside of your cheek

“Not even with the right person?” Abby tilted her face at you, curious pout catching you off-guard.

“Maybe... it's hard to believe”

“Just because something didn't work out once doesn't mean it never will.”

You blinked, switching your gaze to the vast field, breeze blowing loose curls across your cheek. You wondered for an inane second if she saw your heart leaping up in your chest. Unable to contain the spike of hope she gave you. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me” you confessed.

“What?” Abby’s voice pitched “I don’t believe that.”

“I’m being serious!”

“You're a gorgeous woman. People should be telling you sweet things all the time”

“You think I'm gorgeous?”

“You don't?”

“Dunno” you shrug “Hard to tell when everyone is mad at me.”

“Not everyone”

You gulped, feeling Abby’s unwavering support setting fire to a part of you, reviving more bits and pieces of you against your will. Hope wasn’t a good thing to have in this tandem. The breeze swept your hair again as you turned to face her with some words of discouragement, catching your eye. “Ow” you winced softly, hand fluttering up to push them back, struggling as your eye burned a little.

“Hold on” Abby loosely wound her fingers into the feisty lock. “There” she smiled, tucking them securely behind your ear. Your brows peaked in that same old dance, like you were staring at the sun but it was just your son’s painstakingly gorgeous soccer coach

“Abby” you mumbled thinly as the warmth of her fingertips made you limp, cheek burying into her palm. She ran a thumb over to smooth a stray strand, grazing the raised bump on your cheekbone.

“Fuck” she uttered softly, eyes darkening as she switched between the scar and your eyes filled with fear. She knew before you said a word. “Angie…” her nostrils flared, lips pursing to contain her tongue. “No” you reach for her hand, holding it against your cheek as if to beg “Let me forget.”

Abby inched forward, gingerly leaning in to eclipse your faces. She hesitated, waiting for you to pull back but when you didn’t, she gently kissed your cheek, soft lips lingering over your skin. Her cool, smoky breath tickled you and you flinched, pulling back to peer into her blue eyes.

“Coach!” a distressed call erupted from somewhere in the distance and Abby jerked back. It was code soccer mom. Abby shot up, dusting her sweatpants as she sauntered over to the frazzled mother looking for her, briefly turning back to smile at you. “We need another table for the hors d'oeuvre, the extra broke and the boys-” she continued to explain as Abby soothed her “Let’s find another table for the hors d'oeuvre, Debra.”

She headed back to the field as you sat hidden behind your car door, stubborn smile pasted on your lips.

Towards the end of practice

“9, forward, forward, faster!” Abby yelled, wildly gesticulating to make it more coherent to the boys “4, free yourself! Goalie, watch the forward! Remember what I showed you!” She looked sexy when riled, golden muscles beaming in the sun, flexing through her fitted dri-fit tee after her jacket came off her back and sat tied around her lean hips. She was quick on her heels, eyes flitting over every single player. Sharp, barking instructions as her ponytail bounced behind her.

The mothers seemed to collectively sigh with every aggressive instruction. You fanned yourself with an expired Target voucher, wondering if they were imagining all the stuff they never got to hear in the bedroom.

As Dylan deflected another shot with a jump split, Abby sustained her whistle, signaling the end of the match as the boys slowed down to a canter in place. They bumped into each other, chirping about their respective goals amid rowdy back slaps and cheers. Soon they began looking around for their moms. You watched Dylan dully plod from the netted goal, unstrapping his protective gloves. “That’s my big guard!” you squealed, unable to help yourself.

Abby looked back, smirking lightly as the other moms shot unpleasant looks at you. You pursed your lips nervously, hunching down in your seat so you became less visible. Dylan acknowledged you with a quick nod, his face lighting up the second he saw his coach with a fist extended towards him. He bumped her back, laughing as she ruffled his head before hoisting him on top of her shoulders. Dylan beamed as Abby brought him over on her back as the other players rushed out with them. All running to their mothers.

Dylan seemed all too comfortable on there, hands gripping Abby’s shoulders as the mothers swarmed her, voicing various concerns as each grabbed her own flesh of the womb. Abby swung her head between the crowd, trying to hear everyone out. You remain seated in your plastic chair, watching the spectacle as it unfolded. Their voices soon became one united cacophony, the boys padded at her sides while the mothers clutched at her arms, shoulders, spouting question after question about every miniscule detail about the competition. The coral and bubblegum manicures dug into her arms and you bit your lip, mind wandering to forbidden places. A pang of jealousy perhaps. Because the way you touched her would be so much more dangerous than when they did.

Half an hour passed and the young coach had found no respite, they badgered her over the devilled egg halfway into her mouth. An attack no amount of soccer training could have prepared her to defend. You hadn’t taken too deep a breath either, swilling a glass of warm lemonade as two women interrogated you about your husband’s whereabouts, puzzled how you managed the bills alone, took care of the house and tuition fees. Bet nobody was asking your ex such questions. His friends are probably badgering him to sleep around again. You told some half-truths, intercepting a stray Dylan trying to shimmy past you as you braced to slither away from the gathering. The second they turned, you chanced upon glorious getaway, only that… Abby appeared so sapped and cute, trying her best to be attentive.

“Coach Anderson!” you called out to her over the din on the bleachers. She snapped up, attentive as a canine to your voice as you beckoned her. She excused herself from the hound, jogging up to where you were standing.

“Hey” you pulled her close, watching the moms break out in urgent whispers “Don’t act like it but… I was taking Dylan to his favourite diner and I was wondering if you’d like to join.” Dylan peered up at your faces, about to emote in excitement before you clapped a hand around his mouth, feeling him argue with your fingers. “Did you turn water into wine in your last life?” Abby asked gravely, quickly slipping a hand up your back as she ushered you out of the enclosure.

“A thankyou would suffice” you chuckled at her pallid stone-face

“It most certainly would not” Abby hissed

At the diner

You felt the bile rise in your throat as you nudged at the vinegary lettuce on your plate. Abby noticed, picking some off and munching on it. Meanwhile, Dylan had ketchupped both his hands, shoving his side of bacon and hash browns into his mouth.

“You alright?” Abby asked as you lightly rubbed your temple. “Did you really have to sit in the same booth as me?” you asked under your breath as Abby lifted a brow, corner of her lip twitching “Am I too close?” she shifted in place, spread thighs nudging into your crossed legs. “Don’t play…” you warned her with a stern glance “I’m doing this for my son.” “Coaches don’t play, Angela” she stole another chunk of lettuce from your plate, chewing with a smug grin.

Dylan had been talking nonstop about new goalkeeping techniques he had perfected at practice. Obviously, he was elated at the prospect of hanging out with his favourite person, more so now that she was sitting across him. It smarted a bit to watch it not be you but you just wanted to see him happy. Even if you weren’t the reason.

“Who taught you soccer?” he piped excitedly and you turned to Abby, watching her face fall ever so slightly despite the big smile. “I had the greatest coach” she simply said “the best ever.” “Will he come see us play??” Dylan hopped excitedly in his seat and Abby chuckled “Of course, he’d love to.”

You contemplated heavily before inching your hand to the side to comfort Abby under the table with a gentle hand over her knee. She kept her composure, quickly sliding her hand over yours. The callouses on her palm felt scratchy on the back of your knuckles, dwarfing your hand. You wondered if she lifted. Of course, she did. You weren’t the avid gym goer but you could pick those who were out of a lineup.

“Mom” Dylan gestured to the bathroom and you nodded, watching him slide out of the seater and bound down the diner, leaving the two of you alone. “Was it your dad?” you asked gently and Abby frowned, nodding.

“There was… this photo… on your desk”

“Right”

“I didn’t mean to pry”

“You didn’t pry” Abby managed a small smile “It’s me… I still don’t know how to talk about him” her voice broke despite the forced steadiness. You began to draw your hand back, feeling it linger on her knee for too long and Abby snatched it back, placing it right back on her knee. You threw a cautious glance around the diner, worried if you might have undue company. Perhaps a pair of eyes from the locale. You turned to her, welcoming her into embrace.

Abby gladly fell into you, arms catching on your shirt in a hurry to wrap them around you. “It’s alright…” you cradled her head, lips pressing into her hair head as she nestled into the crook of your neck. Abby tightened her grip on you, causing you to exhale sharply as you clung to her back. Her chest rose and fell shallow, breath quickened with her eyes closed. “Abby” you warn her as she slid her hand up your spine “I need this” she begged.

“We’re in public” you whispered only for her to groan back “You suggest we do this privately?” “No!”

Her warmth began seeping through the layers of clothes between you, getting to you and making an all too comfortable home at the back of your head. It was a hard thought to unthink, an even harder act to undo. Your eyes rolled back in your skull, fingers weakly pushing her arms down from your waist. Footsteps come bounding back from the distance and you barely tore yourself apart as Dylan hopped back in his side of the sofa. You self-consciously sorted your hair mussed on one side as Abby fought the flush in her face.

“Coach, you’re still eating” he laughed as Abby rubbed her neck nervously “Yeah bud, can’t get enough of it.”

“You’ve had enough” you weakly snapped at her, pulling your wallet out “Grab your bag, Dylan… we need to drop coach off at her house before we go home.”

That evening

You lightly knocked on the door, turning your ear against it. “Yeah, mom” Dylan acknowledged back and you cracked it open to find him hunched over his study desk. Upon a closer look, you found him scribbling defense formations on his notepad, tearing them out and scribbling more.

“Honey…” you stared at the papers “Come on… bed now” you rub his shoulder. He paused, hovering his pencil inches from the paper before dropping it. Trudging over to the bed, he plopped and laid down. “Good” you smiled, pulling his comforter over him. “You happy about today?” you sat yourself at the edge of the bed, patting him gently.

“Yeah” he said simply, rather numbly “Practice went well… I’m trying to perfect my technique.” You bit your lip, choosing your words carefully “Sweetie… you know you don’t have to be perfect, right?” you adjust the collar of his night suit “The only reason we put you in soccer was… so you’d have fun.”

“Hm” he stared vacantly at the wall, you words were already out his other ear. “I liked hanging out with coach today” he said out of nowhere and you turned your head to look at him. “I’m sure she feels the same” you smiled after some moments as he looked at you, a bit crestfallen “You won’t take her out of my life too… will you?” he asked.

“W-what?” you felt gut punched “I don’t… I mean, why would I…?” your voice broke while you fought to pull yourself together with a shaky hand in the air.

Dylan frowned; lips downturned “You didn’t seem too happy to hang out with her today… like how you were with dad” he clutched the comforter tighter “I think you’ll make her go away too.”

“Baby, I…” you wanted to speak but the ache of your heart breaking overwhelmed you, your chest hurting “I would never do that” you got up, making a hasty exit while your face was still dry. I would never you repeated to yourself as you shut your bedroom door behind you.

There wasn’t much you could do beside softly sobbing into your hands, hunched over as if wanting to disappear within yourself. Your cell phone erupted, the chippy caller tune distracting you. It was the coach.

“Hey, Angie” she said as you clicked accept, labored breathing into the receiver, realizing that you were in no position to speak yet “Hey…?” she repeated and you began to speak, words getting immediately swallowed by the lump in your throat. You slowly blew through your teeth, forcing yourself to act right.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Abby inquired with more urgency and you cleared your throat, finally catching your breath “Hey” you blurted “I’m okay… Dylan’s okay.” Abby paused, not knowing what to say “Are you sure?”

“Yeah... yeah” you breathed, nodding to yourself. Self soothing. “Are you okay??” you asked, realizing that you hadn’t checked on her or asked why she called.

“Yes! It's all good” Abby responded, her voice deeper… softer. “I know I’m calling late again but I wanted to…” she hesitated, making you clutch the phone tighter “I wanted to say sorry” she finally uttered “I realized I was being really pushy and I guess… I need to manage myself.”

You massaged your temples, mind wracked as Dylan’s words linger in your mind “It’s okay…” you exhale “I don’t mind you being a part of my son’s life… I’m seeing him act like himself after a long time.”

“And you?” Abby let the question hang in the air like a guillotine as you struggled to find answers.

“I’d like if we stay friends… for my son’s sake” you enunciated each word carefully lest the truth slip out “Nothing more”

“I see” Abby processed it, her tone dulling significantly “If that’s how you want it.”

“Please don’t take it the wrong way…” you trailed, fiddling with the lace trim on your robe “I'm in no place to reject you. You’re so young and energetic… you could find anyone your age. They'd be lucky to have you!”

“You’d think it would be easy but it's not” Abby confessed quietly, the static behind her voice hanging over the silence “The girls I’ve grown up with are all puritan and now teaching P.E at a Mormon private school. I can’t risk it…”

You gulped heavily, all too familiar with the situation “I get it” you replied shakily “My ex-husband’s fighting me for custody… telling family and friends that I’m this sleazy drunk throwing myself at strange men. I can’t seem to start over hard as I try.”

More silence ensued, punctuated by Abby’s frustrated sigh “We can start over”

“Abby…”

“I want you”

“No!” you discouraged her sternly, holding back all the feelings you didn’t trust. “You’ll find a girl. Younger, wiser… braver” you said cautiously, not wanting to entangle her in your fucked up world “I just know it.”

“And you?” she asked, calling your bluff.

“I’ll… be doing what I do" you laughed bleakly “I barely have to time to think between court visits, office, pickup, weekend practice and making casserole the right way” declaring hesitantly: “I’ll be fine.”

“Just say it, Angie…” Abby urged through gritted teeth “Tell me to fuck off so I’ll actually listen” she cursed in exasperation, anger thinly masking the despondency.

“Fuck off…” you replied firmly as you heard her draw a weighted breath, like she could burst out in a flutter of honest words but instead the line went dead.

I want you too… you mumbled to the nothingness.

At office

Abby’s words from last night haunted you, like a shadowy devil on your shoulder as you sat at your work desk. With how much time you’d spend in the same spot, doing the same things, you wondered if you’d truly forgotten about moving on. Because when she brought it up… it sounded alien. Absurd.

This life was all you'd known but what would things even look like outside of this. You could imagine Abby doting on Dylan, fussing over his games, engrossing him with coin tricks. You pictured them sharing a meal at the table, laughing. Like a family. You even fantasized about pleasing her when alone, crying and writhing in her arms… trusting her… loving her.

“Shh!” the sound punctured your thoughts and you turned around to catch your colleagues gossiping. They quickly hid their faces.

Just like that, you were back.

“Hello, this is Angie from Accounting. How can I help you?” you took a call, pinning the receiver to your ear with a shoulder, fingers flying over the keyboard as you sorted the invoices. “Bill?” you craned your neck to look outside your cubicle “He’s preoccupied, I believe” you lied, watching him stuff oatmeal cookies in his face in the breakroom. “Sure, I’ll pass it on to him" you clicked the telephone back, rearranging the reports on your desk as Bill strode up, brushing crumbs off his beard.

“It’s Nessie, she said you didn’t re about their company ad sizing in classified” you explained, and he rolled his eyes “How many times have I told her…

“Just talk to her”

“No, you talk to her”

“I’m just an accountant”

“Angela… please”

“God” you grimaced, staring at the growing pile of paperwork on your desk, tabs of spreadsheets open on your computer “Fine, but just this once.” “Cool” Bill dismissed it immediately. Your cell phone rang in the middle of work, it was from the school nurse’s office.

A shot of ice ran up your back, stiffening your body “Mrs. Hendricks? mother of Dylan Hendricks of 4C?” the nurse barked down the phone. “This is her” you replied shakily. “Your son hyperventilated and lost consciousness during soccer practice. The coach has handled the situation but we’re mandated to inform you.” “What?” you sobbed into the phone as the nurse cleared her throat “Ma’am… don’t pani-” you shut your phone as you swung your purse up your shoulder, getting up to leave.

You bumped into Bill on your way out.

“Hendricks” he grabbed your arm “Where are you off to? It’s not pick up yet.”

“Dylan fainted during practice; I need to get him right now” you tried to push past him but he forced you back, blocking your way in the hall

“He just fainted. You have bigger tasks at hand here. Is this how you’re planning on working here?” he hissed.

“Bill, you’re hurting me” you tried to pull your arm back as he looked around in annoyance from any attention you might be drawing.

“You’ve exhausted your monthly leaves and I just assigned you some important work even though we all know how you…” he snarled, unable to say it.

“Mighty kind of you” you spat back “To assign me work you’re supposed to do in the first place. Maybe you'd have more time if you weren't gossiping about me in office all the time.” Unnerved, he just glared down at you as you steeled yourself.

“You’re either letting go of me right now… or I’m going to leave you a bloody mess. Unlike yours, my son needs me and I’m not letting your sorry ass get in my way” you thinned your lips in a scowl, baring teeth. That seemed to do the trick as Bill unhooked his hand from your arm.

You stepped on the pedal, weaving and rushing through familiar streets as best you could. Abby had tried your number several times since you rushed from office, leaving a message saying “Dylan’s okay. We’re at my house. Please, don’t worry.” How can I not?? you screeched around a car moving out of park as it nearly slammed into you.

Your baby boy had burned himself out, trying to do Lord knows what and you saw all the signs. You had tried getting to him but you failed each time. You're a failed wife. And now a failed mother. The accusatory screams echoed around in your head till they became one united blare, bursting at your temples. You parked up Abby’s drive-through, rushing out the car and up the front door, banging it down.

At Abby's home

Abby opened the latch, her eyes hollowed, and her ponytail loose. You pushed past her “Where is he?” you threw a glance around the staid living room, lace doily on the television and a leather sofa. Old fashioned like it was stuck in time. “Where is he??” you raised your voice in urgency. Trophies and certificates sat on special shelves, jersey’s framed on the wall in clear glass, a tin of pre-workout pile, dumbbells stood along the wall by size. MCAT prep books sat in a heavy stack on the table.

“Shh… he’s sleeping upstairs” Abby called after as you hurried up the stairs, opening the first room on the right to find him safely bundled in a baby blue blanket. His face peeked out from under it and he looked the most peaceful you’d ever seen him. You began to step inside but Abby held you back with a gentle arm around the waist “Please.”

Your face twisted with contempt, bounding back down the stairs and into the living room before turning around to face her “Why’d you bring him here?” you pointed upstairs in upset, voice terribly shaky. “Angie…” Abby tried to placate you, reaching for your outstretched arm “He couldn’t defend a goal and panicked really hard. He needed to breathe... he needed rest.”

“And you brought him here?” you pulled out of her reach to which Abby deadened her eyes “I took care of my dad till the day he died… I can trust myself to take care of him." “And me? I should trust you too?” you pitched your voice, watching her face fall. “Why are you doing this?” Abby asked, hurt and confused.

“What? Worrying about some stranger taking my son home??”

“I’m no stranger”

“Sorry, my bad. You’re basically Dylan’s dad now. I should just fall to my knees and worship you. Since you’re saving our broken fucking family! My fucking savior” you spat each word out with more vitriol than the last, eyes stinging painfully.

Abby seemed equally disturbed, slowly shaking her head as she blinked fast “Angie… I understand you’re in pain.”

“You understand my pain?” you chuckled, nearly choking from how badly your throat was trying to close “Y-you understand how my stomach hurts from all the knots? Or how much my s-son hates me? That my family wouldn’t take me back? Or how I’m not allowed at church anymore?” Abby lowered her eyes, lips pressed to hide their quiver as she let you unravel.

“Maybe you’ll understand how the other moms say I have std’s… how my colleagues hit on me saying I’m s-spoiled goods, or maybe how my in-laws tear me apart at every court visit” you practically lunged at her, grabbing the front of her t-shirt, “Do you understand that all I wanted was to be LOVED and I BROKE my bones trying to love him in hopes he’d love me back… and HE NEVER DID.” Tears squeezed out your eyes, pouring down your cheeks.

Abby enveloped you in her arms as you broke down entirely, body going limp from the relief of spitting out all the agony coiled deep inside you. Unburdened. At long last. You screwed your eyes shut painfully as you felt her tighten her grip around your waist, hand cradling the back of your head, stroking gently.

You felt her chest rise irregularly; her breath jagged from your words. The front of her t-shirt turned dark from your bleeding mascara. You relaxed your fingers over her chest, peering up at her forlorn face. “Are you mad at me?” Abby asked softly and you shook your head, tears dripping down your cheek “No… I’m scared” you sobbed and she brought her hand to your cheek, pressing a thumb to your lips.

“We’re safe… it’s just us” Abby whispered close to your forehead, the blue in her eyes growing deeper with all the love she had for you. You tensed, raising your lips to meet hers. You pecked her ever so gently. A tender apology. Abby’s hands ached from sheer restraint, tugging you back in for a deeper kiss. You tilted your face, whimpering as she forced your lips open with her tongue. Soft and wet as it slipped deep. Past the hesitation of doing wrong, you gave in entirely. Your hands dragged up her chest, hooking around her neck as you kissed her back, leaving her lips red with lipstick smears to match the flush on her cheeks. Before long, Abby had hoisted you on her hips, hands cupping your butt as you nuzzled into her neck. Your heels clattered to the floor. The scent of her sweat made you squirm around her even more.

You fell back on the couch. Her on top, pinning you down. You dropped your gaze down her front and she chuckled ever so softly. Voice low. With a quick yank, she pulled her t-shirt off her chest, stretching them over her broad shoulders. You bit your lip, staring at the veins throbbing along her waist, the deep v-cut leading inside her shorts. Your lids grew heavy with passion, running your nails up her smooth abs and cupping her silky breasts.

“I wanted to do this the day I met you” Abby groaned, fingers fussing with your first few shirt buttons, ripping the rest off as you gasped from the shock. “God” she nestled into your ample cleavage, inhaling your perfume as she kissed the tops of your breasts.

You wound your fingers into her ponytail, throwing your head back as she lowered the lace cups covering you, rubbing your nipples. Making them more sensitive. “Abby…” you mumbled into her hair as she began to tug and suck on them. You gripped her bare back with a hand, slipping the other low to push her shorts down, exposing the elastic of her underwear… the sight of her happy trail and lean hips left you panting in place.

Her back muscles rippled below your fingers, nails digging into her soft skin. Abby tugged your shirt off, leaving it draped on the couch arm as she ran her tongue down to your navel, slowly pushing your skirt past your hips. “Let me take them of-” she desperately tore your pantyhose mid-sentence, eyes affixed on the milky patch staining the narrow strip of fabric covering your pussy.

“I’m sick” you whined, covering your face as Abby slipped a thumb inside your crotch, slowly rubbing along your sticky folds, dipping ever so slightly into your entrance. It oozed on her thumb. She smiled at the way you closed around her. Teasing you. “I’m sick too” she raised her soaked thumb to her lips, dragging it across her tongue “I think we’re just right for each other.”

She took your hands away from your face, pinning them above your head “I wanted to ruin you in my office that day” she confessed, stroking the lace trim of your bra, caressing you with your eyes. “I wanted to straddle you in the booth at that diner” you admitted breathily, digging your thighs into her sides as she chuckled.

Abby’s voice trickled beneath your skin as you pushed her shorts down, slipping a hand below to cup her groin, the other squeezing her butt. Her pussy was plump and warm. Dripping wet. You slid over her slippery lips, her swollen clit. You giggled, watching her lose composure as you rubbed a circle around it, feeling it throb even harder.

“I want to feel it” you bucked your hips eagerly, back arched as she snuck out of her shorts and underwear. You hungrily stared at what the happy trail had been leading down to, offset by her massive, perfectly built thighs. You fell limp, legs open for her use as she pulled your panties aside, drawing out wet strings from your sopping pussy. You cried out softly as she ripped them at the seams, leaving you exposed. Dragging you forward, she raised your leg up on her shoulder, edging herself into you.

The skin on skin made you delirious, throbbing and snaking as she pulled you even closer. She held you in place with her hand on your ankle. Unable to inch away from where you eclipsed, rubbing and griding earnestly, the sounds getting louder. Wetter. You gripped her forearm, nails raking her skin, feeling the steady rhythm of your hips rocking, her abs dully slapping your inner thigh.

You bit your tongue lest you screamed from the pleasure. Sex had always been such a chore to you that you’d began associating it with work. But the friction of your folds and how perfectly you fit together made you rethink everything. Made you float. Made you wonder if you could ever stop once you started. The way her body pressed into yours at all the right places. How her muscles flexed and rippled against you. How needy her face looked; lips swollen and her eyes watery.

"Fuck” you cursed softly; hips raised to meet hers as the pressure on your clit made you shake uncontrollably. You reached below to place a palm on her hip, thumb pressing onto her clit. “Angie…” Abby’s hips grew more demanding, grinding down harder, squirting until you were sticky. Your breasts bounced pathetically as you fucked senseless, eyes rolling back into your head, lashes fluttering.

Your climax came hard and slow, bursting into an involuntary spasm which you let overwhelm you, quivering and squirting in place. She followed suit, holding you firm as she came, chasing it with more strong thrusts onto you, eliciting incoherent sounds of pleasure from your lips. Abby groaned, a sound rooted deep in her belly, chest rising and falling deeper. She collapsed on top of you, heaving.

You were already burning, but something about the weighted heat healed you. Let you know for sure that you weren’t alone. That you were being touched, heard, paid attention to. You couldn't be close enough to her, if only you could nestle inside her. Abby slipped her arms underneath you, head resting on your chest as you both cooled down. The ceiling felt blurry for the longest time, yellow lit from the standing lamp in the corner.

Her voice seemed to fix the ringing in your ear “I can hear your heart” Abby mumbled, the movement of her lips tickling your breast. “I can feel yours” you smiled, tracing down her shoulder blades. Abby wriggled up, level with you as she simply gazed down. “What?” you asked gently, looking into both her eyes, dilated with love.

“Promise me you won’t regret this…” she whispered, idle hand on your cheek. Wrought with innocent longing despite all the lust. “Promise me… you won’t regret us” she kissed the corner of your lips, wiping a loose eyelash. “M-mom!” Dylan shakily called from upstairs.

“Baby!” you shot up, frazzled as you look down. Ripped clothes leaving your tits sticking out, nethers exposed. Red-faced and desperate. Shame washed over you with the effect of cold water to the face, realizing how you’d been fucking around with your son’s soccer coach when you should’ve been paying attention to him. You shimmied your skirt down, grabbing your shirt from the couch and throwing it on.

Abby got herself in order too, straightening her t-shirt, slipping on her shorts “Hold on.” “No” you insisted, doing the buttons on your shirt that still remaining, tucking the shirt inside your skirt “You stay away.” You scrunched your face in regret, tucking your loose hair up as you hurried up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Dylan sat up, looking disoriented and tired. “Sweetie” you sidle up on the bedside, pulling him into a hug “You’re, okay?”. He meekly nodded into your chest, mumbling a soft sorry. “It’s alright, baby…” you cuddle him “I’m just happy you’re safe.”

Abby hurried down behind you as made your way to the front door, holding Dylan in your arms. “Angie, wait” she tried to talk as she unlatched the front door, joining you down by the car “I’m really grateful for your help… but I need to take him home.” Abby helped open the door to the backseat, heartbroken as she watched you set Dylan down with the blanket curled on end to let him rest his head.

You shut the door turning to her “Abby, I…” you drop your words, uncomfortably crossing your arms as her face fell “You regret it” she affirmed with a quick nod of her head. “It’s not like that” you threw a glance back at Dylan, he was groggy again. “No, I get it" Abby looked defeated, deflating in exhale before she fetched a folded piece of paper from her pocket “Just wanted to give you this.” You took it quietly, biting your lip.

“She’s a child therapist… specializing in children of divorce” she stared at the road behind you, unable to meet your eyes. “Take care of him… Take care, Angie.” You caught skin from where you’d bit your lip. A sharp pain. “Thankyou” you stared at her just a second longer, reluctantly turning and getting into the driver’s seat. Abby didn’t stay back, no wave goodbye even as you kept looking in the sideview mirror. You didn’t deserve one.

Later at night

You lightly kicked open Dylan’s door, lugging in a big, steaming bowl on a wooden tray. “Big, chunky chicken noodles for my big boy” you sang, carefully setting it on his lap “Be careful, love.” Dylan smiled guiltily, accepting dinner. Too easily. “You didn’t have to, mom” he fiddled with the tray handle. “Who else will I do it for?” you shrugged, dipping the soup spoon in and bringing it to your lips to blow it cool.

“Open sesame” you fed him the first bite, raising your brows inquisitively. He gulped it down, nodding “It’s the best” he nodded “you’re the best.” You did a double take, shocked “Really?” you asked in disbelief. Dylan nodded, wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve. He paused, contemplating.

“Sorry, mom” he repeated what he said after he’d woken up at Abby’s home. “What for…?” your hand hovered midair, spoon caught between your fingers. “Coach… she talked me down when I panicked on the field today” he confessed and you lost focus, staring down at your lap. “She told me to think of you” Dylan went on “Said that you love me the most, that you’re always thinking of me… protecting me. That you're the strongest person she knows.”

Your face crumpled and you tried to hide them but the tears snuck past “I know things have changed in a way they weren’t supposed to… I haven’t done my best, baby” you tried to keep your voice level, coherent “I know your miss dad… a lot.”

“I do but I miss you more, mom” Dylan reached for your hand, “I was being mean with you because you’d changed… and I didn't know what to do.” “It’s okay, baby” you held his little hand back, turning your face to him as you smiled despite "Sometimes, we're mean when we don't understand our feelings." Dylan smiled sadly but it still felt like hope. Like all the frost had finally melted. Warm and full again. Safe and sound.

At bedtime

After doing the dishes, you headed back to your bedroom to change for the night. You slipped into satin, brushing your hair in the mirror. In the reflection, your phone sat heavy on the nightstand, like a dancing pointer. You tied your hair in a knot, walking up to it and picking it up before you could let a thought interrupt.

You called her, getting rejected immediately. The screen went red and you gulped painfully, knowing you’d fucked up. You decided to message her, punching in “Will wait for u at school reception at 8 tom… would like to talk” you sent it and thankfully it went through.

You stared at the screen, waiting for something to happen, feeling stupid after a while. A knock came at the door, and you slid your phone under the pillow. Dylan peeked inside, pillow in hand “Can I sleep here tonight?” he mumbled and you beamed, patting the side on the bed next to you.

You snuggled in, covering you both in your comforter like old times. The scent of his hair and the back of his neck took you in like an embrace, reminiscent of when it all felt so new. Cradling your new baby, the night you brought him home. Nothing had changed. The thought of the young couch sat at the back of your mind, and you stared at the wall. Thinking.

Next day at school

The concrete flooring amplified your anxious heel clicks, drawing dirty looks from the couple other parents sitting on the plastic seaters. You made a quick oops face, stilling yourself. The container on your lap was beginning to leave an imprint. The felt bag you’d brought along had fallen into your side again.

It had been 20 minutes past 8, and it was starting to look like you’d be running late for work again. Not that Bill was going to take it up with you. You zoned out on a blur before realizing it was the coach walking towards you. You nearly leapt out of your seat before remembering the contents of the Tupperware.

“I’m so happy you came” you smiled at her gladly, slowly getting to your feet. “How can I help you, Mrs. Hendricks” Abby remained stone-faced, oddly formal. “I was hoping to talk to you” you glanced at the container in your arms and the felt bag on the chair behind “… in your office.” Abby sighed, body angling away from you. With her hands in her pockets, she turned on her heels “Follow me.”

It made for a silent stroll across the poorly blueprinted building to the sports’ department. Abby walked several steps ahead, unlike last time. Her ponytail was limp, slump in her walk, keys jangled in her pocket. It reminded you of Dylan angry-marching whenever he was in a funk. Abby unlocked her office door, holding it open for you as you ambled inside.

While still amenable, she wasn’t as warm as before. Understandably so. You entered her office, aware you had to do better if you were going to halfway fix things. You set the stuff you’d brought on an available corner of her desk, reaching for the photo frame. You gently stroked the glass case, smiling at the tiny, grainy girl. White jersey clad. She had blonde pigtails, big grin on her face. The grass stains must’ve been hell to remove you chuckled to yourself.

Abby clicked the door shut, hands in pocket as she turned around, awkwardly pillared in the corner. “I talked to Dylan and we called the therapist whose number you gave me” you tried to initiate chat “She said she’d be glad to see him Sundays and… he’s willing to give her a try.” “That’s promising” Abby bit the inside of her mouth, cautiously approaching her desk.

“I got your blankie back!” you beamed, placing a hand on the carry bag “I wanted to wash it but it smelt so much like you, I didn’t have the heart to” you looked up at her “so I just lint rolled it.”

Abby wordlessly tugged at her blanket. Fuzzy from wear, spattered with stars and rockets from her childhood. You tapped the ridges of your wristwatch to drown the silence, dropping your gaze upon realizing you were losing focus on the bumpy bridge of her nose. “I made you some chicken noodle soup” you said softly, pushing the box into view “Not that canned stuff! This is my grandma’s recipe I made from scratch” you threw a glance around the office. “You have a hotcase? I can just leave it there… have it warm by lunch.”

“Angie, you didn’t have to” Abby finally uttered and your hand flew to your chin, covering your neck so she wouldn’t see you gulp painfully. “I’m sorry if I’m doing too much” you apologized softly, facing in the opposite direction from her. Abby sighed, “It’s not that. I’m not mad at you after… what happened. You don’t have to make it up to me” she whispered. “I understand if you don’t want to complicate things over a relationship. With how things are for you, it’s beyond understandable. Just… be honest” she dug a nail under the Tupperware lid, toying with the rubber.

“Okay” you stepped closer to her, steeling your voice with as much brazen as you had in you. Honest. “Last night was the most alive I’d ever felt” you confessed, feeling the immediate burn in your cheeks from confrontation but you soldiered on. Abby exhaled ever so slightly, like she’d constricted her chest too long.

You lightly pressed your arm against hers, feeling her shiver despite the jacket “I wasn’t expecting to… not this strongly at least… to develop feelings for someone” you felt yourself losing breath “I’ve been a wife and mom for so long, I forgot how it felt like to be a lover… to be loved.” Abby blew out her cheeks as she tried to look at you, blanching quick “Love’s not enough, is it?” her voice broke, sliding her hands over the edge of her desk, gripping it.

“It’s not… my marriage taught me that if nothing else” you shook your head “But what I felt with you… it wasn’t frivilous. It was pure and hopeful. It was beautiful. I didn’t know what to do with it so I abandoned it... I abandoned you. I shouldn't have.” you apologized earnestly. Abby’s breath grew labored as she visibly fought to compose herself.

“Hey” you gently pulled her before you by her sleeve, peering up into her eyes “I want this” you raised your hand, stroking her freckled cheek with the back of your fingers. Abby nuzzled into your touch, closing her eyes in relief. Lashes fluttering. Her hands returned to their familiar place on your waist as you cradled her neck, soothing the goosebumps on her skin.

“I want you” you mumbled into her chest as you felt her graze the small of your back, rubbing a soothing circle “And though I’m a single mom, with a 9-year-old. I work a boring desk job, have a messy Civic and an even messier ex. I don’t have much going for me-” “Stop that” Abby lightly scolded you. “But-” you kept your eyes low, tugging on her zipper, scraping the cool metal “Never put yourself down, you hear me?” Abby angled your chin up, pressing her forehead to yours.

“Yeah but…” you tried not to lose yourself entirely in her overtures, her lips pecking your nose, brow and cheek. She snuck across your cheekbone to your ear, tinkling your earring. “I need you to know what you’re getting into” you insisted. Abby whispered against your temple “What makes you think I don’t know?” as you weakly tried to discourage her, more for your own sake than hers “Abby…” you stifled a moan.

“And I’ll have you know…” she firmly propped you on her desk, hand curling around your bare thighs “I wouldn’t have it any other way”. She noticed something, looking down at your legs.

“I told them I hit myself with a cabinet door” you sheepishly explained, lifting your leg to show off the deep red handprint on your ankle. Abby smiled, folding her sleeve up to reveal the devilish nail scrapes on her arm “Haven’t been able to take my jacket off all day” she informed you gravely, sending a rosy blush over your cheeks.

“We’ll have to invest in quite the parka, then…” you pouted; eyes filled with faux guilt “because it will happen again” a sudden smug grin curled up on your lips. Abby’s jaw dropped, grabbing you as she vigorously nuzzled into your neck amid your giggles “Someone’s going to be explaining several curling rod incidents soon.”

To be continued (?)

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itsabouttimex2 · 1 month

Note

Oooh how about some yandere headcanons of Tang , Redson and Azure lion with a reader who’s very reckless? They’re always throwing themselves into danger whenever the team is fighting, and reader just insists they’re trying to help. Please if not no worries XD

Sure thing! Also, I think I’m going to grind out a few more requests before I wipe my inbox. I let it grow shamefully out of care during my hiatuses. Then I’ll open up Character x Character (still platonic) requests for a while.

“Y/N, I find that I have warned you many times about this kind of behavior…”

You look up to the leonine demon with a frown, gripping one of your upper arms as a form of self-support. How many times have you heard this lecture? How many times would you hear it in the future? Every time that you so much as try to help him in a fight, you’re sat down for this same spiel.

But you don’t remember him ever being this stern. In fact, he seems-

“Cub,” the lion says, carefully taking your chin between two massive fingers. He says it pointedly, as though preemptively arguing his stance- you’re young and small, still a child to him. One he sees as worthy of his love and protection, even if you might try to reject it.

“Y-yes, Azure?”

“I would like you to pay close attention when I’m talking to you, please.”

Even upset, the demon remains polite and gentle, if rather firm. His fingers are soft to the touch, claws carefully sheathed. He’s never used them against you, not even once. Nor has he even threatened you with them.

His massive hand shifts to your hair, stroking the unruly strands back into place. His metacarpal pad squishes into your cheek, and you can’t help but lean into it, savoring the brief moment of warmth he offers during this long scolding.

“It seems I must switch my methods- clearly, my words will continue to fall on deaf ears if I continue down this path.”

Azure outright scruffs you- snags you by the cape attached to your pauldrons and lifts until your feet leave the ground.

“Come along, cub,” the lion says, as though you have a choice at the moment. All you can do is dangle from his blue-furred hand and try not to squirm, hoping that your cape won’t rip and sending you tumbling.

The training grounds are a familiar sight, hours and hours spent here together, learning all of Azure’s skills.

He presses a wooden training blade into your hands, then takes up one of his own.

“If I cannot teach you, perhaps a full day of training will. We will be sparring from this moment to your bedtime,” he sternly informs, a blush creeping up your face at his final word. That your mentor saw you as so young that he enforced a strict bedtime was…

Well, you tried to tell yourself it was reasonable. After all, if you were growing stronger and exhausting your body, you’d need lots of rest, wouldn’t you?

Didn’t justify the constant checking on you through the night, tucking you in every time the blankets come loose, and ensuring that all the windows were shut and locked.

And you had no doubt that was where you’d end up, exhausted and face-down on your bed, letting Azure gingerly knead out your aching muscles with his massive paws.

But all of that was for later. For now?

You had a full eight hours of training ahead.

Good luck, Y/N.

“No.”

“Wuh- what the hell do you mean, no?! I haven’t said anything yet!”

“And the answer is still no, brat.”

This is the most frequent conversation you and Red Son seem to have, constant preemptive denial of whatever scheme you’re dreaming up.

He’s viciously protective of you, serving as an ever-vigilant guard. Not only is your every move tracked and monitored, but your actions are under constant and fierce scrutiny.

“I see you went to that cheese tea stall, Y/N. After I told you that you weren’t allowed to go.”

“Red, they moved it to the inner city! It’s way safer there, so all your arguments before don’t even matter anymore!”

“…hmph. I suppose I’ll let this slide, then. But I’m not going to be so merciful next time.”

Constant restrictions on where you go and what you do, which could theoretically be lessened to some degree, if only you’d just stop being such a damn fool.

To him, your actions are proof of immaturity, preventing Red Son from genuinely trusting you or letting loose the stranglehold grip he’s taken on your life.

To you? You are genuinely just trying to help the people you love, if a bit recklessly.

But Red doesn’t see it that way, and even when you try to make a convincing argument as to why he should, it’s promptly shot down.

So with debate and brute force both proving pointless in changing his mind, you switch to stealth and subterfuge instead. Expect to get caught about fifty percent of the time, then forced back inside and placed under lock and key.

He loves you, dammit! Why do you have to be so stupid?! Why do you have to try and sneak out?! Why can’t he love any other idiotic mortal around?!

Why does it have to be you?

Red Son can’t imagine that he’ll ever find out why he came to cherish someone as small and weak and stupid as you… but he does.

And since he can’t force himself to stop caring, he’ll just have to impose harsher and harsher restrictions until you finally submit to his care.

Maybe then he’ll finally be able to berate thoroughly talk you out of your heroic ‘delusions’. Maybe you’ll crack and break down, finally discouraged from your kindness.

Just this once, he’ll let you cry into his shoulder.

It’s the least he can do for the person he loves most.

Oh, this poor man. Weak ankles, frail body, fragile heart. You are not doing him any favors by acting recklessly.

“Y/N, NO! Put that down! You- you can’t just go around swinging random swords- stop spinning it!”

“It’s fine, Mister Tang! Mei’s been teaching me!”

“Teaching you to what?! Get yourself killed as quickly as possible?!”

Yeah, he’s constantly on the verge of falling apart. Given that the scholar genuinely just wants to keep you safe and sound, it’s absolutely nerve-wracking for him to deal with you.

Expect him to turn to the Noodlefam for help eventually. Given that they cherish Tang as much as he cherishes them, it’s not hard to rally them into lending him a hand.

He’ll speak to MK about the whole matter, talking him into keeping an eye out for you. He might even convince the young hero to whip up a clone to keep surveillance on you, trying it’s hardest to keep you out of trouble.

As for Pigsy, well… if Tang sees you as a child, let’s be honest- so does the chef. Man has a ladle locked and loaded for the backside of your head, and a sharp remand to go with the sting. “Enough messing around, Y/N! Put the damn sword down and help me with these dumplings already!” And at his words you reluctantly clamber down from the windowsill you were crawling over, settling back at the counter to help the porcine demon prep a meal.

All three of them together have zero issue with keeping you under control, but Tang is clearly the most dedicated here, and sometimes on his own in tending to the matter.

You have to sit through hours of scoldings and lectures. When he’s finally done trying to impart upon you why what you’ve done is dangerous, Tang sends you off to bed with his worried words ringing in your ears.

He’ll stop by to tuck you in, of course. Even when caught in the maddening throes of obsession is Tang kind, always looking to dote on you in some way.

There’s definitely worse people to be dealing with, at least.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Azure Lion #Yandere Tang #Yandere Red Son #Yandere Mentor

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empresskylo · 2 years

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𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you have always thought chief jim hopper was hot. and you knew he thought the same about you, he just tried to hide it because he thought it was wrong since he knew your dad and you were still in high school. however, after hopper crashes a house party, you ask him for a ride home. hopper briefly loses his self-control. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jim hopper x fem!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut— unprotected sex, car sex, large age gap, reader still in high school but is eighteen, sorta rough sex? size kink, power dynamic. *if any of this bothers you, don’t read. 𝐰𝐜 | 2.9 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | i now have dark!hopper fic ideas so if anyone has any requests lmk

*•.¸♡masterlist *•.¸♡ao3 *•.¸♡twt

「 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 」 [bonus gif added at the end] r.h. masterlist

Listen, it wasn’t your fault that you wrote for the school paper and that often led to you questioning the police about local crime scenes. And it wasn’t your fault that you encountered the chief of police, Jim Hopper, on almost every occasion. And it definitely wasn’t your fault that he was so good looking. What, were you supposed to pretend you didn’t find his authority and dad bod hot? But it might have been a little bit your fault that Hopper got stumped on the questions you’d ask him because you made sure to wear your shortest skirt those days.

Hopper was not a boy in your school who would fumble with his words and act stupid around someone he was attracted to. But still, you could tell that Hopper was into you, even if he hid it well. It’s like he expected your bombarding presence when anything remotely interesting happened in Hawkins. You’d show up, notebook in hand, and press him for details. You knew he was hard to crack. He was professional and no one could get information out of him… Well, except for you. You always managed to get him to spill some sort of top-secret information about the case–just enough for you to work with. And if that wasn’t obvious enough that he liked you, you also had caught him glancing over at you before, his eyes lingering on your exposed legs before quickly averting his gaze.

It was the weekend and you were busy celebrating this being your final year of high school by attending a party. You danced through the crowd of bodies, catching a glimpse of Steve Harrington working his charm on one of the popular girls in your grade. You rolled your eyes, he’d grow out of it eventually.

You didn’t think the party was too loud until a police siren sounded from outside the house. In a panic, students began running every which way, darting out of whoever’s house this was–you weren’t quite sure–and off into the streets and woods. You peered out the window and saw Hopper walking up to the door, yelling at a couple of kids as he did. You were glad you wore your favorite skit and a low-cut shirt tonight.

Before Hopper could bang on the door, you swung it open.

“Hi, officer,” you teased. His face was tense and his narrowed eyebrows made him appear threatening–nothing new here.

“What the hell are you dumb fucking kids thinking?” He yelled, spotting the drunk teenagers behind you as they darted out the back door to escape Hopper’s rage.

“It’s just a small get together.”

Hopper rolled his eyes and sighed. He looked around, most of the others had fled the scene, their laughing voices and hollering echoing down the neighborhood street.

This wasn’t even your house, you knew you couldn’t get in trouble for this. But you couldn’t help but swoon at the idea of Hopper putting you in handcuffs…

“Shows over. Go home.” He ordered at you and the small group who were watching from behind you in the living room. It must have been the kid who lived here and his close friends, who else would have the guts to stick around… Well, besides you, of course.

Hopper turned around and marched down the steps towards his truck. He didn’t get paid enough to deal with annoying seniors throwing a house party. His presence was enough to break the whole thing up, so he was calling that a job well done.

“Wait,” you called out to him, chasing him down the lawn. Hopper stopped in front of his vehicle and turned towards you, an annoyed scowl plastered across his unshaven face. “What?” His voice was dark and husky from lack of sleep.

“I…Don’t have a way home.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes. You weren’t lying–now that everyone else had ditched, you really didn’t have a ride home, and it was late and dark out.

“Seriously?” He asked.

You could see the harsh lines from frowning all the time engraved on his forehead. Still, there was a softness to him. You knew he wouldn’t say no.

In a huff, he turned to get in his car, “Get in.”

You smiled, happy at your success, and jumped into the passenger side of his truck.

Hopper already knew where you lived, he was well acquainted with your dad, and in such a small town, everyone knew where everyone lived.

After Hopper had taken off down the road, you leaned over and turned on the radio. That earned an annoyed glance and a grunt from him. He reached out and turned the volume down, the low hum of The Rolling Stones playing out of his shitty speakers.

You looked out the window and rubbed your arms. Hopper didn’t pay much attention to what you were doing so you had to vocalize your intentions. “It’s cold in here.” Your arms laid bare to the chill Autumn weather. When Hopper didn’t respond, you began digging in the back compartment of his truck.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” He shot daggers at you before looking back at the road.

“Don’t you have an extra jacket or something in here?”

You turned back to him and he sat in silence, contemplating if he should do what his mind just told him to do. Jim was trying his hardest not to engage with you, he knew it would lead to no good. Against his better judgment, he slipped his coat off and shoved it at you.

You were genuinely surprised that he actually gave you his coat. You held it a bit dumbfounded before sliding it on. It was warm from his body heat and smelt of him. You felt a rush of blood rise to your cheeks as you drowned in Hopper’s coat that was evidently too big for you.

It was only a few more minutes before Hopper pulled up to your house, pulling over on the side of the street, bushes and trees in your front yard blocking any view from inside your house to Hopper’s truck.

You smiled and looked over at him, “Thanks.”

He had no excuse not to look at you now that he wasn’t driving. When he looked over, his jacket was engulfing you like a blanket, your exposed legs hanging out of it like it were a dress. His jaw tensed and he controlled himself from gulping. “Sure thing, kid.”

Maybe you’d be able to get out without him realizing you didn’t give him his coat back. You could sleep in it all night. And it would be a perfect excuse to go visit him at the station in the morning.

You went to open your door but it didn’t budge. You began shoving it with both your hands, but the stupid thing was jammed.

“Shit. Ron told me he fixed that damn thing for good,” he said annoyed. Just another thing added to the long list of shit he had to do.

You turned back to him in your seat, your face turning red when you got the idea of climbing over him to get out his door instead.

Before Hopper noticed what you were doing, your hand was on his arm and you were crawling over to him from your seat.

“What are you–” He asked in pure shock.

“Didn’t wanna inconvenience you,” you muttered, your eyes meeting his as your hand rested against him. He didn’t shove you off or jump out of the truck to get away from you. Your eyes lingered up to his and you could see the darkness spread across him. His look intimidated you, sending a rush of heat right to your core.

You gained enough courage to continue on and climbed up onto his lap, awkwardly holding his chest for balance as you slid on top of him. There wasn’t much room so your body was forced close to his. He still didn’t say anything. It was making you nervous.

You grabbed his door handle and you were about to push it open and step off of him and onto the road when you felt his large hands grip your waist. You looked over at him and saw the way his pupils were blown and his breathing was deeper than before.

He yanked you down fully onto his lap prying a gasp from your lips. You sat, half-straddling him, and speechless.

Hopper came back to his senses all at once and released you, his hands falling to the side of his thighs before looking back at you in what appeared to be shock and horror.

You were so fucking right, Hopper was into you.

Your hands gripped his button-up uniform top as you looked at him with hooded eyes, unwilling to leave your spot on top of him.

Hopper’s chest was falling up and down in heavy breaths, his eyes searching yours as you held onto him like you were afraid he was going to shove you off.

He began to realize that you were okay with what he just did and you were now begging him to continue through your pouting lips and fluttering eyelashes.

One of his hands braved exploration and slid up your warm thigh leaving goosebumps in its wake. You took a sharp breath in at his touch. “Hopper…” Your voice was barely audible as your head spun from his intoxicating stare. You felt him begin to harden underneath you, his eyes searching yours for a response. With that, you crashed your lips against his, his mustache tickling your nose, wasting no time kissing you back. His other hand was under his jacket you wore and clutched onto your hip, pulling you towards him.

The amount of awful thoughts he’d had about you made him worry he wouldn’t be able to control himself when you stepped into his truck. It was why he tried so hard to avoid you whenever you were around. The temptation dripped off of him as he held you, knowing he was past the point of return. He couldn’t stop now.

He effortlessly pulled your weight down onto his lap, pressing you up against his growing bulge. You whined, the feeling of him against your core was making you wet beyond belief. His hands were large against you, he was able to hold most of your thigh in one hand as he squeezed it. You knocked his hat off as your hands came up to wrap around his neck while you kissed him, pushing your chest against his.

One of his hands slid between your bodies and under your skirt, his finger brushing against your soaking panties, making you jump. You momentarily pulled away from the kiss to let out a yelp as he began dragging his fingers back and forth.

His lip kicked up in a slight smirk as he watched you squirm on top of him, your weight rolling into his hand needily. He pushed your underwear aside and let one finger slide around your hole, then he gently pushed in.

You bit your lip, his eyes never leaving yours. His finger filled you and when he began to slide a second one in, he was met with some resistance. His fingers were large and easy enough to fill you, how on earth was he going to fit his–

Hopper was pondering the same question, his throbbing cock begging to escape his pants at the thought of how tight you were.

His fingers slid out of you, desperate to find release inside you. You hiked your skirt up so he could see the way your thigh billowed at the sides as his hand squeezed it. His hands left you to unbuckle his pants, awkwardly pushing up against you as he slid them down just enough for his length to spring out. You licked your lips and reached down, gripping his cock in your hand. You almost couldn't wrap your entire fingers around him; you always knew he was big.

You wanted him so fucking pathetically right now. Your hands held his shoulders as his own shoved your skirt up then grabbed his cock in one hand and shifted your panties to the side with his other. He lined himself up with you as you dripped in wetness, eagerly waiting.

He looked up at you, his eyes hungry with lust, his intense expression sending shivers up your spine. You slowly sank down on him, taking in his tip. You squeaked, already feeling like he wasn’t going to fit. His eyes shut, preventing himself from grabbing your hips and forcing you down to take him in all at once.

You slowly sank down further until you bottomed out, both of your breathing loud.

“Fuck,” he cursed. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he throbbed inside you, pressing against your cervix. Your skirt was hiked up above your belly button and his hands crawled up to your exposed waist. He lifted you up off him with such ease, wanting you to take him in again. With a loud moan from both of you, he guided you back down, small shocks of pain radiating through you at the quickness of his actions. You began to move on your own, slowly riding him up and down, your head bending towards his to avoid hitting the roof of his truck.

The pain of him stretching you out soon subsided and was replaced with pangs of pleasure. You picked up speed, your bodies sloppily colliding. “Jesus,” he growled. “You’re, ugh–so–fucking–tight,” he managed to get out between grunts. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you towards him as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, shifting the angle so his cock hit right at your g-spot each time he filled you up.

You began to let out soft whimpers, Hopper’s guttural growls masking the sounds you were making. You leaned forward, clinging on to him, your face buried in his neck and shirt as you continued to ride him. Your soft cries filled Hopper’s ear making him twitch inside you.

His arms wrapped around you and held you close. Your legs were starting to give out, your pace slowing. Filled with impatience at how slow you were going now, Hopper’s hand found his seat lever and pulled it, sending you both backward as it extended to an almost horizontal position. You were momentarily confused as to what he was doing until he rolled you over in one swift motion so you laid underneath him. Your legs widened so he could fit comfortably between them and he began thrusting into you. You squealed as he pounded into you with such force, you were certain his truck was rattling to the waves of Hopper’s thrusts. Your arms extended over your head and clutched the wall of his truck to help hold you in place as he forcefully slid into you time and time again. He was cursing against your lips before his forehead connected with yours. His breath was hot against you as he panted.

You felt yourself getting dangerously close. In a small voice you spoke, “Hopper, I’m…Gonna–”

He continued to fuck into you, your legs as far apart as they could be, wanting him to hit you as deeply as he could. “Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck,” he swore, his cock twitching inside you as he thrusted. In a loud groan, you felt him begin to spill into you, sending you over the edge as well. You mewled under him, your legs shaking as he kept his speed, his cock sending spurts of hot liquid into you. His hands roamed your body, not able to touch enough of you as he came. One of his hands came up and rested on the side of your cheek and partially in your hair, pulling in into his fist. Your name pooled off his tongue as he gave one last deep release inside you, his thrusts beginning to slow now. You panted under his weight as he came to a stop. He collapsed on top of you, both of your faces covered in sweat. Liquid dripped out of you as he gently pulled out. He was out of breath as he grabbed you into his arms and rolled you both over so you were laying on him instead.

After laying there in heavy breathing filled silence, he began to sit up, taking you with him as he did. You sat on his thighs as he shimmied his pants back around his waist and let his seat swing back to its usual position.

A small wave of fear-filled Hopper’s newly cleared mind. “You’re eighteen…Right?”

You giggled, “If I say yes, does that mean we can do this again?”

His eyes widened before you began climbing off of him. “I’m kidding,” you said, dragging your words out. “I’m eighteen, you idiot.”

Hopper let his thoughts untangle themself before he turned to you. “We probably shouldn’t do this again. I shouldn’t have even let this happen tonight.” How was he going to face your father the next time he saw him without remembering the way you looked when you rode him tonight?

You jumped out of his truck, leaning against his lap as you stood on the pavement. “Okay. We won’t do this again then,” you said with a shit-eating grin. You knew Hopper wouldn’t be able to resist you now, so it didn’t matter what he said. He watched you walk towards your house, your skirt flowing back and forth as you walked. He gripped the steering wheel tightly in his fists as he already felt himself begin to get hard again watching the way his jacket looked on you as it engulfed your small frame.

bonus gif [yes it’s actually d.h.]

part 2

#jim hopper #jim hopper smut #hopper #hopper smut #jim hopper oneshot #jim hopper fanfic #stranger things #stranger things smut #smut #hopper st4 #chief jim hopper #chief hopper #jim hopper x reader #insert fic #hopper x reader #stranger things hopper

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