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misstycloud · 2 days

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Can you do yandere boyfriend and yandere in-laws

You and your husband were driving up north to visit your in-laws. They were a nice couple who’d decided to move to a small town after retirement. It made sense to you, after decades of work and stressing over all that life throws at you, who wouldn’t want a little seclusion?

For the entirety of you and your husband’s relationship, he’d talk about his parents and how glad he was to have what they have; he loves you so much. They were his role models in just about everything. It was a bit weird to you how inspired he seemed by his parents relationship, sometimes. He could go on and on about how he was lucky to have you and you two were going to be together forever- like his parents who’s been married for a little over 30 years. He’d also never fail to mention on how he would give you everything and tread you right- again, like his dad does his mom. However, you shook it off as him admiring them and being very close, especially since he’s an only child.

That was not all. From the moment you met them in person, you had a strange underlying feeling regarding them. You hardly believed they were criminals or something of that kind, but there was something. For example, you’d catch his mother watching you from time to time. It could be when you’re outside in the garden and you’d notice her watching from the kitchen window, quickly averting her gaze and busy herself with the dishes. Or when his father insisted to accompany you to the grocery store despite his now-bad leg. You had told him he should stay at the house and that you didn’t need help or anything, but he dismissed your rejections. Not to mention their willingness to help your with just about anything, and your mother-in-law did not spare any expense in the seemingly random gifts she bought you. Mind you, this was back when you and your husband hadn’t even been together that long and you’d barely gone over the official couple threshold.

“We’ll be there soon, honey. It’s not far now.” Your husband said to you, giving you a quick glance before fousing back on the road ahead of you.

You smiled and responded, “That’s good, I can’t wait to get out of this car.” You sighed and looked at the fields passing by outside the car window.

With a frown, he asked, “Are you feeling nauseous? Does your back hurt? Are you sore anywhere? Should I stop?” Immediately he began ranting about your comfortablility like he’s done all through your relationship.

“No!” You exclaimed. “There’s no need to stop, I’m fine. Just feeling a bit cramped up is all. It’ll be better when we’re there.” You explained while grabbing his hand and showing that you’re good.

He side-eyed you for a second, as if he was trying to find evidence you were lying. Then he breathed out in relief, “Okay, I don’t want you to be in any pain or be uncomfortable in any way-especially now.” Your worrying husband let go of you to move his hand over stomach and stroke it in gentle movements. All while still keeping an eye on the road, of course. It wasn’t long until his happy mood bounced back. “I’m so glad we managed to come out here, it’s feels like ages since last time. And I know how anxious my mom has been to see you again.” He chuckled at his mothers attachment to her daughter-in-law. He would almost say she loved you more than him with how she fawned over you. Though, he didn’t mind.

You simply smiled in return.

When you finally were at your in-laws house, your mother-in-law was instantly at your side, trying to help you he out of the car despite you being very capable of doing so yourself. Your father-in-law scolded her and told her to let you be, in which she shushed him.

It wasn’t long until she started pushing gifts in your direction. Although, they were much appreciated this time around considering your current state and needs. The couple treated you to a nice home cooked dinner and the conversation shifted between different topics. After devouring the delicious chocolate cake being served as dessert, you felt it was time for bed. You had already been quite tired during your journey but it the fatigue was really hitting you now. You yawned and told the others you were going to bed, asking your husband if he was going to go with you.

He shook his head. “No, you go to bed first, sweetie. I’ll be right up, soon.” He reassured and kissed you on the forehead as a sign of affection. Then he gently ushered you upstairs and after you were out of sight, went back to his parents seated in the living room.

“Straight to bed, then?” Mother-in-law asked with a smile.

“Yeah.” Your husband answered.

“Oh, I do hope the bed is comfortable enough for her. I bought a new madress since your last visit. Lovely girl, was to afraid to say it made her back hurt. It’s rare to find such polite young people nowadays, wouldn’t you agree, honey?” The elder woman turned to her spouse, who nodded in agreement.

“I’m sure she’ll love it, mom.” Her son said and sat down in a cushioned chair.

“I hope.” she sighed, “She deserves a good nights rest. You’re lucky to have her, son, don’t forget that.” She half-jokingly reminded.

He chuckled and responded with, “Of course not. I love her more than anything. She completes me.” Thinking back to all the wonderful memories, he adorned an elated expression. “Besides, weren’t you the ones to teach me to never let go of what I love?”

“Haha, got me there. In all reality though, you did a good job taking her back. You know, I was a little worried for a moment there, thinking the wedding might be called off. I thought she perhaps found out about your…hobbies.” Mother-in-law raised a brow at her son, leaving the question open.

“No, it was something else. Fortunately.” He added. “But we fixed things and everything is as it should be.” his attention was turned towards his father, who for the first time spoke up.

“Well, relationships have been known to be a bit tricky for us” he referred to their family. “We are known for being somewhat intense with our feelings which may not always be appreciated. However, it is the truest form of love one can give and I’m so lucky to have found a partner who shares this view.” He placed his hand over mother-in-law’s who awed. “You said everything is steady, but you should still be careful. It would not be beneficial for either of you if a last resort has to be used.”

“Of course not.”

There are many stories of evil mother-in-law’s who despised their sons wife for the simplest of reasons. They would be cruel and treat the wife worse than dirt, all while playing innocent whenever someone had payed a little closer attention. She hated those women. How could one treat their child’s one-and-only that way? Though, she knew her view on love and relation did not match the majority of society so that might have something to do with it.

She absolutely adored you. You were simply perfect for her son. Kindness, humility, beauty- these were only a small range of your qualities. In a way, you were like the daughter she wished she had. Of course she wasn’t disheartened with her son’s birth, she would love her child no matter what, but she couldn’t lie and say the thought of a little girl wasn’t tempting. It would be so fun dressing up, doing each others hair, teaching her how to do makeup if she was interested.

She wanted to do those things with you someday. Sadly, she could sense you being a bit apprehensive to her company at times. She knew it was likely due to the excitement she radiated. She couldn’t help it, though! You are just so sweet it makes her want to bite into you like a piece of cake(don’t worry she wouldn’t actually). Mother-in-law has reminded herself to keep things down as to not overwhelm you, but it’s hard. If only she had the level of control her husband did.

Father-in-law is a admirable, hardworking man. He is clear-headed and calm; rarely does anything get to him. Although most would think him somewhat scary and stern, you actually like him a lot. He is not all toughness as he might want you to believe, in fact, he’s been very kind to you. That’s not to say that mother-in-law hasn’t been, but it’s just different with him, somehow. You felt like the two of you had a mutual understanding of kinds, and you also liked that he understood not to smother you.

He thinks you’re a wonderful addition to the family, even if he wouldn’t shout it out for the world to hear. He’d be too embarrassed. You are a good person and great match for his son. You’ll make him happy beyond measure, which is what father-in-law wants. Now that you’re permanently in the family, he often thinks of the things he and his wife taught their son. Now, he doesn’t hope you’ll ever have to find out about them since he’s not sure how you’d respond to that knowledge; most don’t respond positively and it’s likely the same for you. They could damage you forever.

Father-in-law promises to protect you since you’re part of his family now, and he’ll do anything for his family.

#oc #yandere oc #male yandere #obsessed #possesive #toxic #misstycloud oc #yandere x reader #yandere husband #Yandere mother in law #Yandere father in law #yandere in laws #platonic yanderes #platonic in laws #platonic yandere in laws

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coco-loco-nut · 22 hours

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loml part 2

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: it’s time for you to finally have some happiness, even if you’ve sworn off drivers

part one masterlist ttpd masterlist

——————

A year after the break up, you are still living in George’s Monaco apartment. You keep to yourself, sticking to a simple routine and avoiding Formula One when you can. You could’ve gotten your own apartment with the divorce settlement and your job salary, but George insisted that you take care of the apartment for him.

George and Carmen were with you every step of the way, helping you pick up the pieces and bringing you back to as close to normal as you can.

“I’m done with drivers, I will never date one ever again,” you tell George one afternoon. George was almost offended but you added on the second half.

You go out for a run like you do every morning before work, and on your way home you stop in a bakery you’ve been eyeing. After placing your coffee and pasty order, you accidentally bump into someone.

“I am so sorry, I- Charles. Hi,” you look at the equally stunned man.

“Hi, how are you doing,” Charles says gently, sounding concerned. That isn’t what you expected out of your ex’s friend.

“Better, how’s, um, how is he?” you ask a little bitterly, internally cringing at the clear discomfort on Charles’s face. His name is called alongside yours, so he picks it up and sets it on a table, silently inviting you to join him, and you do.

“I don’t know. After the whole Kelly thing, I argued with him and we haven’t really talked since,” Charles admits, you look stunned.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you can’t really hide your bitter expression as the thought of Kelly runs through your mind. Not even a month after you separated, Max was off playing happy family with his new girlfriend. Your divorce wasn’t even legalized yet.

“I’m not. He lost someone incredible just because he wasn’t willing to put in the work for a good and healthy relationship,” Charles looks you in the eyes. You finish your pastry and process his words and his underlying meaning.

“Charles, everything is still so fresh, I don’t know,” you look out at the streets. You couldn’t deny he was attractive, but you didn’t want to reinvolve yourself with Formula One.

“One date, we can take it as slow as you want to. I know it must be hard, but you deserve to be happy,” Charles reaches out and touches your hand gently.

“I have to get to work. You should have my number, Charles,” you softly smile, leaving the cafe. Charles lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Naturally, he asked George for permission first. He knew George was acting as your overprotective brother, and George knew you better than anyone at the moment. Despite you swearing off drivers, George felt that Charles might be what you need.

The first date goes well, and so does the second, and the third. Charles prioritized privacy, and you were grateful. He shows up to your door for the fourth with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, ones that Max always forgot to get. He always gave you chrysanthemums, fitting that he would choose a funeral flower seeing as how he killed the relationship.

“Cheri, are you okay?” Charles asks, seeing you tear up a little.

“Max never did this, and when he did they were always the wrong flowers,” you shake you head slightly, fending off the anger and sadness.

“Well, if he wanted to treat your right, he would. I want to treat you right,” Charles presses a kiss to your head. You invite him in while you find a vase to put the flowers in.

“I want that,” you tell him, his hands find yours.

“Be my girlfriend?” Charles asks, you nod happily.

“There is this restaurant that I’ve been wanting to try, down the street. Maybe I can take my boyfriend there,” you smile, heart racing.

“Lead the way, mon cœur,” Charles tells you. You lock the apartment behind you and take his hand as you lead him down the street to a restaurant that opened a couple months ago. The two of you are so caught up in each other, you don’t notice the table across the restaurant.

Max watches you walk into the restaurant, hand in hand with Charles - the guy who used to be one of his closest friends. You look stunning, and happier than you were the last few months before the separation. Of course Max saw you for divorce meetings, but this is different.

“Max is here,” you quietly tell Charles.

“Don’t worry about him, he won’t cause a scene,” Charles reassures you, knowing his old friend. You are grateful for the man sitting across from you.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask, causing Charles’s hear to soar. can’t believe he is finally happy.

Charles is by your side during the rough days, especially the day that should’ve been your wedding anniversary with Max. You couldn’t help but to be upset, and healing takes time. Charles didn’t push you to do anything, he just kept you company and followed your lead.

When you were together for six months, you felt comfortable enough to reintroduce yourself to Charles’s friends and family. It helps that the two of you adopted a dog.

“These are my sons, Ollie and Oscar,” Charles tells you as you stand in the kitchen, watching over the dinner you had been working on. He would’ve invited Liam, but that would be awkward for everyone.

“It’s lovely to meet you, I’m Y/n. I suspect you know Leo from social media. Would either of you like wine, or anything from the fridge? Please, help yourself,” you stop yourself from fussing. Charles recognizes it as your hormones kicking in, making you fuss over them.

“Thank you, need any help?” Ollie asks as Oscar plays with Leo.

“Thank you, but you are a guest. I couldn’t let you. Now, I think Charles has a really expensive bottle that will pair well with this meal, let me grab it and pour a couple glasses,” you wink.

“Only the best for you and the kids, Cheri,” Charles yells from the dining room where he is setting the table. Ollie takes the glass you poured for him, he wouldn’t mind you being his grid mom.

“Charles, come help me bring food in while the boys sit down,” you tell him, giving Oscar and Ollie a little glare when the move to help you.

“Of course, mon cœur,” Charles smiles, carrying the heavier plates in while you grab the wine bottle and the two empty glasses for you and Charles.

The two boys try to make sure they don’t come off as interrogating you, but you don’t mind. They are avoiding the elephant in the room, and both you and Charles know it.

“You can ask, I don’t mind,” you say gently, knowing it’s eating Oscar alive. He’s like you and George if you two had an idgaf attitude.

“Is it true that you and Max, um,” Oscar pauses looking for the words.

“Yeah, he’s my ex-husband. He did me a favor though, without him I wouldn’t be with Charlie,” you look adoringly at your boyfriend.

“Ask George and Carmen, they will give you the best version of the story,” Charles laughs and so do you.

“This is really good, I might need you to cook after races for me,” Ollie changes to topic, groaning a little at how full he is.

“She’s our mom, of course it’s good,” Oscar replies, you can’t fight the grin on your face.

“Of course I will. I can send some frozen meals for you to heat up along to the with Charles,” you tell them.

“Or you could come to the races and keep me company,” Ollie says, looking at you hopefully. You are one hundred percent adopting him. Charles looks at you a little panicked, you never really talked about being in the paddock as his girlfriend. Of course, he has publicly talked about how he has a girlfriend who he adores, but no one knows it’s you, except for a few people.

Max never told anyone about your relationship, despite him seeing your date and reporters asking him about you. It would be an asshole thing to do after he moved on so quick, and you deserved better than what he had done to you already.

“I’d love to, but don’t regret it when you are being mothered,” you point your fork at them.

“Wait, why only Ferrari,” Oscar pouts.

“I can visit you too, I’ll even bring cookies,” you tell Oscar. He pumps his fist in celebration.

Charles is happy to hear you are okay going to races again. You have to be a little stealthy about it at the start. You go the first couple times as George’s guest, and slowly increase how long you are with Charles each time.

Things change when you miss your period. You and Charles have always been very careful, but there have been a couple time that you forgot a condom.

“What does it say, mon cœur?” Charles sits beside you in bed, rubbing soft circles on your shoulder. You take a shakey breath and turn the stick over, ready to be shown another negative.

“Positive, I’m pregnant. I thought I couldn’t have kids,” you feel Charles brush tears from your cheeks.

“We will be the best parents, I’m so happy,”he reassures you, and you can see how happy he is. From then on you go as Charles’s partner, Ollie is happy to have you with him in the garage, and even accompanies you to visit Oscar. Ollie claimed it was to protect you and the baby against Max, but that doesn’t work when Max is talking to Lando at the same time you visit Oscar.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Max asks a little hesitatily.

“I’m really well, how are you?” you ask, pushing down the bitter parts of you. You truly are very happy now.

“I’m okay. Do you think we could talk at some point this weekend? I think it’s been long enough and you deserve closure for yourself,” Max scratches the back of his head.

“Message me on Instagram. We can find a time,” you agree, needing to get a couple things off your chest. That time is the next morning in an open room in Red Bull hospitality.

“You wanted to talk,” you say as you sit down across from Max. Charles was apprehensive when you told him of your plan, but he trusted you and was supportive of your choice.

“I wanted to apologize for how I treated you at the end, it was unfair to you,” Max tells you, clearly pushing through his pride. “So, I’m sorry. I can’t say it’s easy seeing you happy with someone who isn’t me. Are you happy?” Max asks, needing to know.

“Of course I am. It was really hard to move on. Charlie makes me extremely happy, and he’s given me the greatest gift I could ask for,” you smile, subconsciously putting a hand on your stomach. Max feels his stomach swirl with jealousy. Charles is living the life he should be living, Charles is doing everything he should be doing for you, but he fucked it all up.

“I, uh, wow. Congratulations, I know how much you wanted a kid. I’m happy for you, schatje,” Max says, pushing down his jealousy. It’s his fault he lost you, now he has to live with the consequences and be mature about it. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten with Kelly so soon he would be with you, but it’s too late now.

Max did try. He constantly asked George where you were, or to convince you to talk to him. George was protective though, he saw how hurt you were and knew you needed to heal on your own time. So he did what any overprotective best friend would do, talk reasonably and show Max why he needed to stay away.

“Thanks, Maxie, that means a lot,” Maxie, a dagger through Max’s heart. “I can’t be friends with you right now, but maybe someday. I like this version of you, maybe Kelly was the right one for you after all,” you can see the pain in Max’s somber eyes, the same one you see from the end of your relationship, and the same one that haunts you.

“I really am sorry,” Max’s voice cracks. “You’re the love and loss of my life,” tears well in his eyes as he looks at you.

“You’re the loss of mine as well,” you stand up and move towards him, pulling him into a hug. “You are going to be okay, Max. We weren’t right for each other, but now you can move on,” you say softly. In your heart you can feel the closure you’ve needed. Max felt it too, and when the day came, he would be ready to be a good friend.

Until that day, he is publicly supportive of your family with Charles. Max repairs his relationship with Charles first, then he slowly repairs it with you. When Julianna Herveline Leclerc graced the world, he was one of the first people to send a gift and well wishes. And when you and Charles finally make it to the alter, Max is standing beside Charles, happy to support the two of you.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #george russell #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #the tourtured poets department #loml

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dottedsilktie · 2 days

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Spring cleaning 2 - Clean up your mess

You couldn’t be happier that spring cleaning was coming to an end, your reward now at arm’s length. Unfortunately for you, Kento wants to torment for a little longer and not just with household chores. cw : +18, detailed smut (face sitting, edging, unprotected sex, squirting) please MDNI ; part 1 here

For the first year of living together with Kento, you can proudly say spring cleaning was a resounding success. Who knew the only incentive you needed to fully cooperate was the promise of being thoroughly cared for by your dear husband.

Even Kento was taken aback by your eagerness, slightly amused by your boisterous shrub trimming in the early morning hours. He watched you fondly as you waved at him from the yard, all smiles and mussed hair, with comically large gardening scissors in your hands. Although your pruning left much to be desired, your effort seemed genuine and Kento took it as a chance to soak in the delightful sight of your bent form whenever you’d vigorously attack dead growth. The delicious curve of your arched back and your zeal were enticing enough for Kento to overlook your mediocre performance, then remedy it himself.

He spent the day quietly checking on you, always pleasantly surprised to find you wholly focused on whatever task you threw yourself into. The highlight of his day was probably seeing your exuberant strut up and down the corridor leading from your bedroom to the laundry room, accentuating the sway of your hips and the rhythmic pitter patter of your bare feet against the wooden floors whenever you sensed him coming closer, huffing and puffing about the “gargantuan” amount of laundry you were putting away. Kento came to find that, by gargantuan, you meant barely enough for two rounds of laundry as you only took a handful of clothes from your hamper to the washing machine at a time, more focused on putting on a show for him than actually getting anything done but it didn’t matter. Nothing really matters when Kento gets to see you so joyful, mischief only adding to your childlike charm, and he knew he was growing entirely too soft even though he’d promised to be implacable with you.

Kento had steeled himself in not giving into your pleading or puppy eyes or less orthodox, more daring negotiation - or really, extortion - methods and strangely, you didn’t even subject him to any of it. So he fared well, starting strong when he’d easily outsmarted you, having you at his beck and call for the whole day and Kento rode the heady high of an easy victory for once. He could really get used to finally being listened to without protest.

By the end of the day, you were brimming with energy, both from the prospect of getting your reward and the pride of a job well done.

Sitting on the living room carpet, you admire your handiwork and smile proudly at how the neat piles of Kento’s and your own folded clothes completely cover the white woollen rug, eager to stun him with the results of your honest work and get the praise you craved.

You skip happily towards the kitchen in search of him, head peeking in just enough to get a good look at Kento prepping for dinner, and stalling for a moment to take in the sight of the muscular ridges of his back under his tight shirt. Slowly, you creep towards him, light-footed and conspiratorial, fully intending to scare him but you only manage to get two footsteps in before he pipes up, tone light and knowing, “Did you need something, darling ?”;

You audibly huff, evidently disgruntled to have been found out so easily, plodding along the rest of the way, nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed at him as you hoist yourself up on the countertop by his side. “You’re no fun, I wanted to surprise you”, you mumble, lightly punching his arm to get his attention. He merely hums and smiles, gaze not straying from the courgettes he julienned with impressive precision. Kento only turns to face you once he is done, and when he catches you staring at his hands with lidded eyes, he’s barely able to contain his snicker at how easy you’ll be to toy with.

“Your idea of surprising me is scaring me, not sure you’re any fun either”, he starts and you shrug innocently. “Besides, it’s hard to miss you ; I could smell you before I could even hear you, honey”. He extends a large palm to smooth your hair out and pull out a small twig still stuck in your ponytail, waving it around in your face. You remain unfazed, pushing your chest out proudly and retorting, “I smell like hard work”. He laughs and corrects, trailing off, “You smell like plumeria, and..”

He moves closer, hands on your knees to part them gently and stand between your legs. Kento’s feline gaze locks on yours, his usually cool amber irises set ablaze in the dying light of the sunset. One hand leaves your bare knee to cup your jaw and tilt your head back, and Kento’s scrutinising eyes make you squirm. You are suddenly very aware of how you must look in this light, a day’s worth of grunt work leaving you sweaty and unkempt. Kento doesn’t seem to mind though as he ducks his head lower to brush the bridge of his sharp nose along your jaw, then even lower to the column of your throat. He inhales deeply, every little breath he takes against your skin magnified tenfold from how much you want him.

You hadn’t expected your reward to come so soon but you have no complaints about Kento’s generous mood, so you close your eyes and let his hand cradle the back of your head. He takes his time making his way up to your face, the soft pecks he lavished on your collarbones and neck turning hungry when he reaches just below your ear, licking a long stripe and nibbling on your earlobe. By then you are a goner, your little breathy whimpers of pleasure filling the otherwise silent kitchen. You only open your eyes when you feel him pulling away, brows furrowed once you notice his wry smile. What’s so funny ? you want to ask but he beats you to it, the hand at your nape retreating to show a bright crimson petal stuck in your hair.

“Plumeria and bougainvillaea”, he declares with a self-satisfied, lopsided smirk. You stare at him, mouth aghast. “Ken, what the fu –”, you start but he silences you with an open-mouthed kiss, the faintest brush of his tongue against yours easily lowering your defences again. “You smell divine, hard work really suits you.”

You don’t know how to respond, you’re not used to being denied or teased like this. Kento can see the cogs turning in your lust-addled mind, confusion clear as day in your disappointed little moue. “What did you want to tell me ?”, he interrupts your unspoken musings. You blink your confusion away, sniffling before answering, “The laundry…I wanted to show you, I did it and folded it, and –” He hums along, listening to you talk about folding laundry like you’ve just done the unthinkable. In a sense, you really have. Kento can’t remember a time when you had to do it since you’ve lived together ; the burden of virtually every household chore always befell him. He loves taking care of you, so even the most menial and mundane tasks were softened in the glow of his affection for you. He just thought he could claim a little reward for all his efforts, even if it meant retribution on your end.

He does an impeccable job at maintaining an apathetic façacade as he lets you drag him from the kitchen to the living room, his resolve unwavering even when he notices how the enthusiastic bounce of your step is reduced to the uncertain drag of your feet.

“Well ?”, you try with a meek little smile, hopeful eyes fleeting between Kento’s impassive expression and the neat piles you spent your afternoon sorting. “Well ? I thought you would’ve put them back in our dresser by now”, Kento deadpans. Your smile immediately falters and he can see disappointment slowly morphing in frustration. It shouldn’t affect him the way it does, but he rarely gets to see you like this - so eager to please and so afflicted by his denying you. He feels himself twitch in his trousers as your hands ball into fists and your rosy lips jut out in clear discontent, your pout alone enough to tug at his restraint. Too engrossed in your fuming, you don’t notice the pleasure he takes in tormenting you and he uses your confusion to make a quick exit, vaguely telling you to “clean your mess” and get ready for dinner.

Kento is amazed by how well-behaved you are, actually doing what you’re told even when he leaves you to your own devices, your promised reward undoubtedly thawing at your irritation. He watches you curiously as you move in a daze, putting the laundry away then slipping quietly in the shower, not even daring to invite him in with you.

The billowing steam curtains a lone body instead of two, but you don’t dwell on it. Instead, you focus on washing away the remnant of hard work and letting the scalding stream of water soothe your nerves. As you step out of the shower, you think you are ready to brave Kento’s uncharacteristically cold demeanour. Unfortunately for you, dinner is barely more fruitful, and the lauding you expected never comes. Kento is laconic at best, the insipidity of the conversation seeping into what was supposed to be a delicious meal, and there is no mention of what he has planned afterwards. You reason that he might’ve forgotten or maybe that he’s tired, too.

He’s never like this but you reckon slaving away doing house chores can’t be ideal, even for someone like Kento who gets off on scrubbing away at coffee stains. It’s fine, you’ll just have to remind him and claim your reward.

You do your best to quell the tremors of apprehension thrumming through you, waiting patiently for Kento to join you. He arrives moments later in all his after shower glory, sandy blond hair still damp and clinging to his forehead. Clad in nothing but low-hanging chequered sleeping pants that’d look awful on anyone but him , Kento has never looked better. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of crystalline droplets travelling the length of his torso down to his navel, and lower to catch on the hint of golden hair peeking out from the dangerously low hem of his pants. Kento can feel you staring and it takes everything in him to not mirror your hunger with his own, the glimpse he caught of your silk camisole and flimsy little shorts already enough to fan the coals of his lust. Instead, he quietly slips into his side of the bed, his back to you. The disbelieving scoff you let out is music to his ears. He feels you shuffle closer to him on your knees, poking his shoulder insistently as you simper, “Babe, I think you forgot something”. He sits up slowly, blinking at you before planting a chaste kiss on your forehead and mumbling a ‘good night’. You loop an arm around his bicep before he can even fall back on the mattress, forcing him to stay upright. “Not that, I meant what you promised this morning”, you try again, pressing your chest into his arm and resting your face against his shoulder. “What did I promise ?”, Kento inquires, blond brows arched in confusion.

“You know, you said you’d help me with the thing."

“What thing ? You’re going to have to be more specific honey, I’m very forgetful”, Kento taunts, scratching the back of his head in faux thoughtfulness. You scoff again, this time more irritated than incredulous, but you don’t relent. You rub your face against his shoulder affectionately, grasping at his hand and not so subtly pushing your chest out harder against his arm to drive your point across.

“This morning, when I told you about those hum, aches, you said you would -”, you stop suddenly, meek and bashful like you’re not rubbing your breasts against the corded muscles of his bare arm, nipples already hardening under the thin silk of your top that does nothing to conceal your growing arousal. “I’d what ?” You can’t even answer, groaning into his bare chest to hide your fluster. Instead you try to show him, taking one large hand and guiding it to your face, kissing his palm and nuzzling into it, offering him a little smile that’d be demure if Kento didn’t know better. You peer up at him only to meet a hard, unimpressed gaze that suggests you’re going to have to try harder. “You promised, you said that if I was good you’d take care of me”, you huff out, dropping the meek act altogether as you sit back on your haunches, mulishness and petulance taking over. His laughter rumbles deep from within his belly and cuts through the leaden silence of your room. Somehow, it sounds foreign and mirthless coming from Kento. It makes you shiver, something halfway between apprehension and lust stirs deep in your loins. “Do you even hear yourself ? All I do is take care of you, darling”, he admonishes. You shrink in on yourself, feigned meekness quickly turning into genuine timidity. You try to come up with an acceptable retort, but the prospect of being denied any longer fuels you with a sense of urgency that makes you snap. “I know, of course, I just mean…This is different, you promised and I was really, really good so you have to make good on your word, too !”

Kento’s expression quickly turns dour as he crosses his imposing arms over the chiselled expanse of his chest, reminding you that you are in no position to demand anything. Despite your less than ideal predicament, you can’t help but stare. He’s so close, at arm’s length really, but you have a sneaking suspicion that if you were to try and touch him, it’d be his ire and not his desire you’d stroke. So you behave.

For the umpteenth time today, you keep your hands to yourself and your mouth shut. The longing in your eyes betrays everything you try to reel back in anyway. Kento knows that look. He’s grown familiar with the slight furrow of your brows and the way your doe eyes narrow in a wistful gaze where you somehow skilfully blend unrestrained pining and shyness: the ‘fuck me’ eyes that have his cock stiffening to life alarmingly quickly in his sleeping pants. At this rate, he won’t be able to keep his little game going for much longer.

“I suppose you have been pretty good”, Kento starts, a single finger drumming against his sculpted bicep. You nod eagerly, mouthing an enthusiastic ‘yes, yes’. He hums, seemingly deep in thought. Mindlessly, you slither closer to him, taking his silence as an invitation. He lets you run a tentative hand up his arm. Emboldened, your touch grows more insistent and your fingertips press into him to savour the sinewy muscle shifting beneath his warm skin. Your eyes seek his again, your pleading gaze chipping away at his austere exterior. “Please”, you try again, tone nothing short of beseeching. A flicker of warmth flashes in Kento’s stony eyes. He relents, but not how you’d expect him to, because he’s gently disentangling himself from you, fluffing his pillow and lying down. You look at him curiously, head tilted to the side and brows furrowed. “You deserve your reward. So take it.”

He vaguely motions to his face, lips stretched in a sardonic smile. Your mouth falls open and your cheeks bloom in different shades of red - shame, lust, unbridled curiosity. “I-I…We’ve never…” you stutter, suddenly shy and unsure. Kento rubs at the bridge of his nose and sighs in feigned exasperation. “I thought you’d be more eager, it’s too bad to see you don’t actually want it”. Lust supersedes any second-guessing and you’re quickly pushing him down when he tries to sit back up. Kento smiles lazily at you once more, making a show of settling comfortably back down.

“Strip”, he whispers, terse but warmer than before. You quickly comply, trembling hands pulling your camisole off and tugging your shorts down. When you move to peel your underwear off, Kento puts a hand over yours, eyes zeroed in on the growing wet patch between your legs, a silent plea for you to leave it on. You somehow feel more exposed this way, the flimsy material betraying your arousal as it dampens further and sticks to your puffy folds. Kento beckons you closer, hands on your thighs as he guides you to straddle his abdomen, running his lidded eyes over your mostly naked form. He knows he’s being selfish when he denies you and pulls at the already taut string of your patience, but he wants to commit the sight of your desperation to memory. You’re so beautiful when you’re needy, with your cheeks flushed - not from shyness, anticipation has long taken over - and your soft skin bared just for him.

Just for me, Kento thinks as he pulls you toward his face, heart leaping out of his chest and cock leaking in his pants when your clothed cunt is just above his face. He traces the curve of your thighs then presses in the dip of your hips, any pretence of remaining soft long forgotten. His once conversational touch now covets ; his clever fingers sink in a sensitive spot until you shiver above him before they move to the next, goosebumps budding in their wake.

You’re still not close enough though and Kento brings you dizzyingly closer to his awaiting mouth, feeling the heat of your core against his face and getting high off your scent. You truly smell divine and look even better, and he can’t help but crane his neck to lick a tentative stripe from your clothed entrance to your thrumming clit, swallowing back a groan of pleasure at the faint hint of sweetness and slick catching on his tongue.You go rigid above him, the lithe muscles bracketing his head taut from the effort of keeping yourself up, timidity undoubtedly adding to the painful strain on your legs.

Kento is patient in his exploration of your body, he works at your reserve with small kisses trailing from your inner thighs to your covered clit, whetting his appetite on your airy whimpers and gasps. The phantom brush of his lips against your heated flesh is reverent, barely there but already enough to make you clench around nothing. “Kento, please – I need you”, you whine, trying to press yourself into his face but your feeble attempts are easily contained by his large hands. Kentot’s thumbs dig into your hip bones and his long fingers are outstretched to press into your lower back. “What do you need ? Tell me, honey”, Kento whispers right into your skin, voice hoarse with desire. He’s never made you ask for anything, so discerning and attuned to your needs that he senses and caters to them unprompted. It’s not surprising that voicing your needs has you whimpering from frustration above him. Still, you are nothing if not malleable, Kento’s soft kisses and honeyed voice lulling you into obedience. You let your head drop to look at him between your legs, misty eyes transfixed on Kento’s heavy-lidded gaze, your lips quivering. “I need you to touch me more, please Ken, you know what I want.”

Of course he knows. Kento always knows what you need and how to give it to you. Above all, Kento knows you don’t beg and he almost feels bad for tormenting you but your slick-covered panties tell him the helplessness you feel only heightens your arousal. Finally, he pulls your underwear to the side, baring you to his hungry eyes. You’re so pretty, little hole clenching and clit throbbing right over his mouth. The visual combined with your breathy whimpers has his cock so stiff it borders on painful. “I know, my love, I know." He soothes you when your whines get louder with delicate kisses to your puffy folds. It’s so good, soft and reverent but not nearly enough. You whimper, fighting against his bruising hold. “Kento –” “My pretty girl wants to cum”, he croons, now kissing right under your clit, shutting you up. “Isn’t that right ? You want to cum all over my face, with my tongue deep in your needy little cunt”. Kento doesn’t expect an answer, already pushing his tongue into your fluttering, finally tasting you - you taste heavenly and feel even better, clenching around him to keep his tongue inside your slick pussy. You cry out above him, babbling about how good it feels already and pleading for more. He looks up at your face to catch how it contorts in pleasure, your jaw dropping in a soft whine when he pulls out of you. “Above all, you want to be a good girl for me, right ?” His voice is taunting, you know he’s testing you but your devotion is boundless and you’re nodding frantically. “Yes, yes – that’s all I want, I want to be your good girl." Kento smiles and rewards you with a kiss to your clit. “Then hold yourself open for me while I taste you. Can you do that for me ?”

You let out a shuddering breath that threatens to melt into a sob and it gets him impossibly harder. Your face is bashful, clearly hesitant, yet your cunt drips more of the gossamer fluid he loves onto his lips. “Come on honey”, Kento encourages, searching for your hand with his own and bringing it to your slick sex. He guides your fingers on either side of your puffy folds, voice deceptively calm when he instructs, “Just like that – that’s a good girl, let me see you when I eat you out. Don’t be shy now, you know I love looking at you; you’re so beautiful everywhere, I could cum just from this.”

The praise he withheld all day long starts pouring. Every groan of appreciation, every hot breath fanning your glistening pussy makes you slicker and your mind grows fuzzier at Kento’s lauding. You keep yourself spread for him, showing your swollen clit without even being told to. His cock weeps at the sight, the painfully erect length twitching whenever you beg for more, so worked up your slick leaks right into his open mouth. Your tone is laced with eagerness and desperation - not for a release anymore, just the need to be good. It makes him want to be good to you in return.

Finally, Kento uses his hold over your hips to bring you down right where he needs you. The first lick of his tongue against your swollen clit has you choking on a moan of his name. Tired of denying you, Kento pulls more wanton moans from your parted lips with well-aimed flicks of his tongue against your clit, groaning when more arousal seeps onto his chin. He quickly grows hungrier, gentle flicks giving way to the insistent suckling of your clit in his mouth, tongue rolling around the pert bud until you gasp and keen in delicious agony. It’s too much and somehow not enough, your hips chasing his touch even when you feel yourself licked raw.

Kento offers you a reprieve from his voracious mouth when he feels the telltale sign of a painful orgasm starting to oscillate in you, nipping at your inner thigh to bring you down then slipping his tongue inside you to raise you back up again. This time he’s gentler, slowly fucking his tongue in and out of your greedy pussy. He takes his time with you, savouring how the almost pornographic moans he pulled out of you mellow into soft little mewls of pleasure. Easing his hold on you once more, he lets you ride his tongue, groaning whenever you bump your sensitive clit against his nose. You both fall in a rhythm, Kento lapping up into your sloppy sex and you riding his face in measured rolls of your hips, this time slowly creeping up the steep hill of your release. Kento is blissed out, head full of you - your scent, your saccharine arousal coating the better half of his face, your little hands grasping at his hair to help your ride out your pleasure - and he can’t help the way his hips jut up, his weeping dick untouched but already so close to release. Snaking a hand down his pants, Kento grabs at the base of his cock, stifling his own pleasure to draw out yours.

With his free hand, he reaches out blindly up your abdomen to grab at your breasts. He brushes against one with the back of his hand, squeezing it appreciatively, then treats the other with the same reverent gentleness. You clench even harder around his tongue at that, teary eyes rolling back into your head when his hand spans over your chest, his thumb on one nipple and his pinky on the other. Everything becomes overwhelming, you want to tell him how good everything feels, how big his hand is against you and how you’re dangerously close to cumming on his face. Instead, cry out his name, pulsing around his tongue and gushing into his mouth, clit throbbing where it rubs against his nose. Your thighs shake violently on either sides of his face but you don’t pull away, and amid your incoherent babbles, Kento discerns your pleading for more, don’t stop it feels so good. He fucks his tongue into your harder, quicker - stroking your spasming walls so he can drink up everything you have to offer. He lets go of your breasts and his cock, using both hands to keep you firmly against his face even when your orgasm blooms into painful pleasure. His palms are hot against your ass as he spreads you open to lick you down from your climax, and you distinctly feel how one of them is covered in so much precum, adding to the already sloppy mess of your cum and his spit smeared on your lower half.

Way past overstimulation, you shudder uncontrollably and your moans melt into pitiful sobs. Just as you are about to go boneless above him, Kento gracefully manoeuvers your body to help you lay by his side. He can look at you properly now and he marvels at how beautiful you are with your tear-streaked cheeks and heaving chest, your underwear back between your folds soaking up the mess he’s made of you. You look so fucked out, sniffling and blinking at him with misty eyes, the waves of your orgasm still ricochetting throughout your body.

“How’s this for a reward ?” Kento quips, lovingly brushing strands of hair from your sweaty forehead. You smile lazily at him, too tired to actually laugh, then you nuzzle into his palm and kiss it in silent appreciation. His heart clenches at that, incommensurable love entirely eclipsing lust. Kento litters your cheeks and forehead with small kisses until your laboured breathing evens out, then he slowly moves to stand up.

“Where are you going ?” you mumble in a drowsy voice. “I’ll be right back to clean you up, don’t worry my love” he tries to get away from you at an awkward angle, hiding his precum-covered pants but your little hands grasp at him, a disapproving pout on your face The sight of Kento’s ill-hidden affliction chases the bleariness from your eyes, and you smile at him knowingly. “No you’re not, we’re not done.” “I know you’re tired, you don’t have to force yourself sweetheart, really I –”, Kento starts, the face of abnegation even as his cock aches to sheath itself in your warmth, but he stops when you slip off your spoiled panties and spread your legs for him again. It seems like he’s fucked the shyness out of you because you suddenly have no qualms about reaching both hands to your sloppy sex, spreading it like you’d just done for his mouth. His jaw drops open when you trail a delicate finger to your fluttering hole, circling it before sinking in agonisingly slow, breath hitching. You must be so sensitive, so warm and tight, he thinks. Primed for his cock. Kento searches your face again for more reassurance.

“You really don’t have to.” “I want to. I want you inside me, don’t you want to reward me for being your good girl ?”; your smile is deceptively innocent, finger still steadily pumping in and out of yourself.

Fuck it.

Kento all but clambers to kneel between your spread legs, strong hands holding your thighs to open you more to him, pushing them to your chest. His breathing quickly grows erratic, pupils so blown they eclipse the amber of his irises. You want to spur him on further so you reach a curious hand to run the length of his bare chest, raking your fingers along his happy trail until you reach his pants. Then, with a devious little smile, you slowly sneak your hand to his aching cock. Kento’s moan is guttural when you ghost your finger on his leaking tip, and he grunts in agony when you wrap your soft palm around him, pumping him to add to the mess he’s already made of himself. If your hand already feels so good, just how much better will your cunt feel ?

With his patience running thin, Kento bats your hands away and tugs his sullied pants down just enough to free his length. Shuffling closer to you, he strokes himself over your spread sex, lidded eyes transfixed on the beads of precum leaking from his tip onto your pert clit. You crane your neck to watch him add to the mess between your legs, eyes fleeting between the angry red head of his dick and his face contorting in uninhibited desire. Kento swipes at your slippery clit with his thumb, reaching to your hole to gather more of your slick and your cum, then stroking your thrumming pearl with it.

“So messy”, Kento muses to no one in particular, entranced by how sloppy he already got you. “But I need you wetter”, he concludes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You whine in protest when he takes his hand away, missing the gentle pressure that was already building your pleasure back again. Your protest dies in your throat however when Kento repositions himself above you just right, guiding his cock to rub the drooling slit of its head on your clit, coating you in his essence. Somehow, that’s still not enough and your eyes go wide when he gathers spit on his tongue, letting a hefty glob drop where you’re connected. You blush furiously at the sight, wanton moans only getting louder when Kento cups the back of your head to make you watch how messier his spit gets you.

“Think you’re ready for me now, my love ?” When you nod frantically, holding onto the back of your thighs yourself in an unspoken plea for him to take you, Kento knows you are. Slowly, he arches over you, one hand rubbing his cock over your sloppy sex, the other sliding under your head to tilt it and make you watch yourself get fucked like you’d begged for.

Kento sinks his cock into your awaiting hole excruciatingly slowly, feeding it to you inch by inch, his eyes trained on your face. So fucking pretty, he thinks. The most breathtaking woman he’s ever seen is somehow even more beautiful like this. Kento starves off the need to slam himself into you, quelling his hunger on your shuddering gasps and the deliciously painful bite of your nails into his biceps. He only stops when he’s fully sheathed into you wet heat, cockhead grazing your cervix and making you gasp like he’s just punched the air out of your lungs. He remains inside you, unmoving, letting you adjust to being stretched thin all over gain. Cupping your cheek with his hand, he finally kisses you and you sob into his mouth, kissing him back messily and trying to tell him how good it feels already. I know, I know, he soothes, the velvety baritone of his voice heightening your pleasure. When he feels you relax around him, Kento pulls out cautiously and revels in the whimper it earns him. Slowly, he starts rocking into you, first in measured rolls of his hips, but his gentle pace quickly picks up into something more frenzied.

You spur him on, moaning right into his open mouth and drooling into the large palm he cradles your face with, telling him how good it feels, I won’t last like this Kento, I need to cum on your cock. Everything is so filthy from your words and the way your slick runs down your ass and coats his balls, to the obscenely loud squelching of your pussy trying to keep him inside you whenever he pulls out. You do ineffable things to Kento and he already feels his orgasm creeping up on him but he needs to thwart it, he needs to feel you cum around his dick like you did on his tongue.

Loosening his hold around your trembling body, he sits back up, the frantic rutting of his twitching length in your heat unfaltering. Kento brushes his thumb to your clit and pushes onto your abdomen at the same time, cursing when you get impossibly tighter around him. His gaze is nothing short of adoring as he watches agony and pleasure swim in your glassy eyes - you’re so close, right at the edge and Kento knows just how to send you over it. Curling over you once more, he keeps a firm hand pressed on your lower stomach, resting his weight on his forearm so he can hide his face into the crook of your neck. Kento bites, licks, nibbles on every unmarred spot of skin there, cock still drilling into you at a dizzying pace even when you try to warn him that you’re dangerously close.

“That’s it, give it to me, cum on my cock and make a mess like the good girl I know you want to be”, Kento moans right in your ear and your shivering body treats it like a command. You wail as you cum, taken aback by the force of your own orgasm, the walls of your pussy contracting painfully around Kento’s cock. Your high sends him tumbling over the edge too, with a pained gasp of your name. All you feel is Kento - his seed flooding you in long and thick spurts, his twitching cock still fighting against your spasming cunt, and above all, the heavy weight of his scorching hot palm over your lower stomach - and something breaks in you.

Kento feels it before he sees it ; the faint stream of liquid that sprays out of you as he fucks you through your orgasm steadily growing stronger to soak his stomach. He pulls away from you to watch you squirt all over him, eyes closed and mouth drooling, the picture of pleasure. He fights through the pinch of overstimulation that creeps up his cock and balls and fucks more out of you, only stopping when you have nothing more to give.

Utterly spent, Kento pulls out of you with a wince and watches his cum leak out of you as if in a trance. You’re not faring any better, now completely limp and still soaking the comforter you had just washed this morning. As you fall in and out of consciousness, you weakly mumble to him, “Are you going to make me clean my mess this time too ?” Kento laughs, embracing you and kissing the crown of your head.

“Spring cleaning is over so you’re off the hook for now.”

For @foreverthelonelytraveller, I hope it's to your liking!

Disclaimer : I'm not a smut girly but I tried really hard and wanted to share something that'd be at least decent :)

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mt-oe · 3 days

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You're definitely my top fav Mizu writer I love all your fanfics 😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️

Could you do one of Mizu and reader already being a married couple, but Mizu still is deeply in love with reader despite the years, could be smut or not I just want Mizu to be super affectionate wodkendkend

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Hey dear!

Thank you so much for requesting and saying something so sweet <3 I really try my best to do well in writing and compliments like these make me so weak ///

I haven't done a fanfic about Mizu in their current time period for a long time so I'll try to do it now.

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, wound cleaning, injuries, both feminine and masculine pronouns for mizu, implied afab reader

Your eyebrow twitched in irritation, hands hidden inside your kimono as you balled them into fists. 'No, no. Let's stay polite. Let's stay polite,' you thought to yourself, keeping a small faux smile. "Are you sure we can't get this for less?" you asked the straight-faced vendor who looked just as irritated at your constant haggling.

The middle-aged man in front of you grunted in annoyance, in his hand was a bundle of herbs you needed to make an antiseptic paste for Mizu. "No, 5 ryo and that's final," he replied, raising an eyebrow.

Holy shit. 5 ryo for a bundle of herbs that was already wilting? What a scam. You could buy a travel pass for that already!

"Please sir. My husband really needs it now. How about 2?" you asked, giving him the best doe eyes you could without letting your irritation show. "And what do I care about your husband? The best I can do is 4," he replied in a snarky manner.

"2?"

"5."

"2 and some mushrooms?"

"I said 4 is the best I can do."

"Oh c'mon please! 3?"

"No."

"3 and some mushrooms?"

"I don't care about your stupid mushrooms!" the man snapped, lifting himself off of his seat to loom over you. "4 ryo. That's it. If you can't pay, then get the hell out!" His hand raised the bundle of herbs, seemingly about to smack you with it until a firm bandaged hand gripped his wrists almost painfully.

Looking up to curse at the offender, the vendor suddenly reeled back upon seeing your husband's orange-tinted glasses. "And who the hell are you?" the vendor asked, trying to sound intimidating.

Mizu's blue eyes narrowed at him behind her glasses, scanning his figure before letting the vendor's wrist go. She opened her mouth to respond but was immediately cut off by the feeling of your body pressing against her arm. "Mizu? Aren't you injured?" you asked in pretend innocence, glancing back at the vendor whose eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and nervousness.

Your husband grunted slightly and nodded. "You were taking a long time," she replied before looking at the vendor. A bit of slyness mixed with the polite smile you've been keeping up for the past hour. "I was about to go back but.." You looked at the vendor who was now glaring at both of you, eyes squinting as your smile widened mischievously. "This man was about to hit me all because I asked if he could sell those herbs for 3 ryo."

Upon hearing your words, her eyebrows immediately knitted together. Her hands gently pushed you behind her, approaching the vendor with a terrifyingly thick aura of anger. She glanced at the bundle of herbs in the vendors hand, tongue clicking. "These herbs look like they might as well be feed for the pigs and you threaten my wife over them?" she scowled, glare hardening. Her hand reached towards her sword, using her thumb to push the katana slightly out of its scabbard.

The vendor glared at the ronin in front of him, thinking carefully before conceding. "Fine I'll hand it over for 3. Just leave before you scare the other customers away," he grumbled, tossing the bundle over to you haphazardly. Mizu was about to have another talk with him but you decided to pull her away, grinning at the vendor.

"Thank you sir. My husband and I will surely come back," you said with a mischievous hint in your voice. "Isn't that right, love?" Your head turned towards your husband who was still looking over at the vendor menacingly. "Sure."

With that, the two of you left. A soft yet cheerful hum emanated from your throat as the two of you walked out of the busy marketplace and back to the old run down inn the two of you checked in.

Sure, it was old. The floorboards would creek with every step and the decorative textiles looked dull and worn down. The futons they provided were very flattened out from years of use and washing. But the two of you were fine with it, a cheap inn was better than having an injured person out in the wild.

Upon arriving, you immediately set down the herbs on a nearby stove, getting a flint to light it up. A satisfied hum left your lips as the sparks from the stones finally ignited a fire, fanning it out to increase the flames. The cute little sound made your wife chuckle softly as she untied her scarf and obi.

It was during times like these where Mizu was truly able to be at peace, savor her time with you. The two of you met years ago, when she had finally returned to Japan, now on a new path to try and reconnect with herself. The self she hated so much. You were the apprentice of an apothecary owner, skilled in foraging and identifying herbs. Although you could not call yourself a physician, the title only belonging to men of that time, you were greatly skilled in treating wounds and injuries.

She entered your master's apothecary in search for a treatment after accidentally making contact with a poisonous plant while she was training. The rash traveled up her arm, blisters forming, making it unbearably itchy and painful for days until she could no longer bear it. However, upon entering the shop, you were the only person there, sweeping the floors as you hummed a cheerful tune. You looked up at her, hands pausing as your eyes observed her.

A soft smile graced your lips and the moment she heard your sweet laughter—shit, she knew she was smitten. It was like time stopped for her. Despite the place being lined up with various medicines and trinkets, all she could see was you. The slight flush of your cheeks from the cold, the way your eyelashes fluttered, the slight dilation of your pupils as you stared at her (more like her rash but ok), and the curve of your pretty lips. Maybe the god of affection decided that she was capable of admiring someone again.

"Poison ivy," you chimed, pulling her out of her trance. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion then suddenly raising one up as you approached her. You lifted her arm up gently, inspecting the rashes and blisters before setting it down. "You must've been from the mountains."

She watched as you looked over the shelves, hands on your hips. A small 'aha!' left your lips as you picked a jar from the shelf. "Here." You placed the jar on the table and gesturing her to come over. "My master is away, and I don't know how much these cost, so I'll give you a discount. Okay?"

You were so beautiful she probably ended up paying more than how much the medicine actually costed.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she watched you grind the herbs and some sort of boiled concoction into a paste using your mortar and pestle. She loves the way your eyebrows scrunched together in focus, the way you licked your lips subconsciously, and the little huffs of breath you let every time you brought your pestle down onto the herbs in the mortar.

"Here," you mumbled, setting the mortar down next to her. Carefully, you helped Mizu out of her haori, eyes inspecting the expanse of the injury.

It was nothing serious. Just some abrasions she obtained from an accident while training in the morning. Her foot slipped, sending her sliding down the hill. However, the moment you saw her blood trail, the scream you let out was so loud it woke the birds up. Probably woke the whole world up while at it.

Another chuckle slipped out of Mizu's throat at the memory. It was another thing she loves about you. You're always so concerned about her, even more than she was to her own body. 'Mizu! Holy shit! Your skin is peeling!' she remembered you shout at her, looking like you were about to cry.

God, you're so cute.

"What's so funny, love?" you asked, tilting your head at her. Warm water ran down her wounds as you cleaned them. Mizu shook her head, eyes fluttering shut, lips curling up. "Nothing," she replied.

Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around you, making you whine. "W-Wait! Your scabs will reopen if you keep moving, dummy!" you whined, trying your best to continue washing her wounds. She hummed in content, resting her forehead against your womb. "Just remembering my wife."

You rolled your eyes at her, washing your hands on the basin before drying it. "I'm your wife," you huffed at her. She once again hummed, agreeing with you. "My wife," she mumbled against the cloth of your kimono, pressing your womb closer to her.

A small huff came from you as you picked up the mortar from the side, scooping out the paste with your fingers. "Yeah, me." Mizu nodded, the feeling of her head moving made you giggle. Gently, you applied the medicine onto her wounds, even to those that scabbed over, giving her a blissful feeling. The cold paste on her stinging wounds felt calming. A slight menthol after-effect adding to the relief. You could feel her pressing herself closer to you, her cheek now resting over your womb.

"My wife," she repeated absentmindedly

"What is it love?"

"My wife."

"You're being silly."

Her blue eyes looked up at you with a content eye smile, admiring how hard you were working on her wounds. "And you're beautiful," she sighed out. A chuckle made it past your lips, your head shaking in amusement. "Oh please, time already passed me by. I don't look as young as I used to," you replied with a fond smile.

You could see her eyebrows knitting together in disagreement through your kimono. "As if," she huffed, almost in a growl. "You're still as beautiful as the day I met you. Maybe even more." Her hands gripped your forearms firmly but with a sense of caring. She gently pulled you down, medicinal paste smudging across her shoulder as you tried to balance yourself. Before you could protest, rough, calloused, yet gentle hands cupped your face, tracing every line and every spot.

The words in your mouth died at how fondly she was staring at you. Her eyes were filled with love and affection, heavily contrasting the intimidating stare she usually had. Your big bad husband was just a pile of goo, melting and gushing at your beauty.

"I'm starting to have wrinkles over my face, aren't I?" you joked, holding a bit of truth. Mizu hummed in agreement, a soft smile still on her face as she traced over the said wrinkles. "Especially here," she replied, tracing your smile lines.

A playful huff escaped your lips, fingers smudging a bit of medicine onto her forehead. "That's your fault. I can't help it if you keep making me smile, love."

She buried her face against your shoulder, allowing herself to take in your scent. A mix of something earthy, medicinal, and a bit of rain. "It's your fault," she mumbled against your neck in a low yet content voice. "You're too pretty when you smile."

"Oh hush, dear husband," you teased, a laugh leaving your lips upon hearing her grunt at the word 'husband'. "Flattery won't get you anywhere."

"Flattery makes my wife smile," she replied with a cheeky grin. "That's more than enough." You stuck your tongue out at her, making her laugh at the playful gesture.

Silence took over the room as you continued to apply the medicine over her wounds, fanning it with your hand to allow it to dry faster. "Love?" you heard her call out. With a small hum, you craned your neck to look at her. "I'm sorry we couldn't get a better inn," she sighed.

You laughed at her words before setting the mortar down, wiping your hands over a washcloth. "It's fine. We don't need to go anywhere special," you replied, trying to get the medicine out from under your nails.

"Besides," you started, cupping her face, squishing her cheeks up a bit. "Anywhere is fine as long as we're together."

Her smile only continued to grow brighter at your words. "Maybe someday, we'll have a place of our own. With place to build a forge..and lots of shelves for my things," you added, the warm feeling in your husband's chest growing and growing with every word.

Gently, she cupped your cheeks back and placed small kisses on your face, pressing her lips on every feature she loves—which was everything. "And if we can't find one, we'll build it," she concluded.

A soft giggle of content could be heard from you as you wrapped your arms around her, making sure you weren't touching her wounds, and sinking into her warmth. "I wish we could get married," you sighed out against her chest. "Like with witnesses and all that."

Mizu could feel her heart pounding at your words, her love and affection overflowing. "I'd love a life like that. Maybe in our next."

"And what if we still can't get married in our next life?" you asked, closing your eyes as you relaxed against her skin. "Then, I'd find you and love you the same," she chuckled, eyes warming up at the sight of your body against her's. "Even if we can't get married in that one?"

"Mhm..I'll find you in every life," she started, tracing her fingers up your back. "Every purgatory." Her hands gently and tenderly caressing your face.

"And love you the same."

#bes #bes mizu x reader #bes mizu #bes x reader #mizu bes #blue eye samurai netflix #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu x reader #mizu imagine #mizu x you #mizu x fem!reader

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theaceace · 16 hours

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I know that canonically (show-wise, at least) St Hilarion's worked to cover up Charles' death, and nothing was ever really done about the disappearance of Edwin and the other boys, but even so, do you think the school has a reputation for being haunted??

I'm imagining Niko following various ghost-hunter groups online, especially when the agency doesn't have many cases going on, and occasionally the boys will mirror hop over to an interesting-sounding location, and they'll even get a real case as a result

So when she tells them that one of the teams is planning to investigate St Hilarion's (either it's been closed for a while or they have special permission to go during the summer holidays), Edwin and Charles steel themselves and decide to go, in case there are other ghosts there that need help ('can't imagine a worse place to be trapped for the rest of my afterlife' says Charles, who has been to literal hell. Edwin, who spent 70 years in literal hell, agrees)

So they go, with Niko and Crystal as moral/emotional support, except when they get there they realise they've fucked up and are there on the same day/night as the ghost hunters. They could come back some other time, but what if there really are ghosts here that are suffering? No one wants to take that chance, so Crystal uses her powers to convince them that she and Niko are there for work experience, or are friends of a friend, or are here to replace one of the tech guys who called in sick

Both Charles and Edwin are tense and uncomfortable returning to the place they died - Edwin had gone there after he escaped Hell because he didn't know where else to go, but they've built themselves a home now with the agency. This isn't like before, when it was the closest place to familiar he could find. Charles, meanwhile, feels colder and colder the longer they're there - his hair is wet, there are bruises flaring and spreading, and a faint rattle in his chest that would have become pneumonia if he'd lived long enough

But they need to be sure there aren't any other lost ghosts stuck here that need their help crossing over, so they keep going

(maybe, as a consequence of a door to hell being opened in the school, there are unusual happenings, maybe there's still a place where the line between earth and hell is very thin, maybe there's some fragment of a demon left behind, and they can do something about it)

Anyway, the most important thing is that Charles, either accidentally or in a fit of pique at the whole situation, knocks something over just as one of the paranormal investigators is asking for spirits to make their presence known. In fact, this happens repeatedly - the boys move things, change things around, their presence is detected somehow with the equipment. Crystal and Niko are doing their best to distract the team and ruin as much of the footage as possible, and at least once the boys do something on purpose, maybe because someone is being a creep to the girls (and yes, they both know that Crystal and Niko are more than capable of taking care of themselves, but this way scares the asshole more and is also funnier), and then also to fuck with their readings

Anyway, it's coming to the end of the night, the problem has been identified, and whaddaya knows, of course it's in the attic where they both died. This is fine, why wouldn't it be fine. They get started, draw some (invisible, ghostly) runes and start working their magic when, of course, the paranormal investigators turn up, because this is thought to be the most 'active' area of the school, and the body of a schoolboy was found here in the 80s

Yeah, they try to contact 'any of the boys who disappeared in 1916' and Charles. It would be fine if they weren't so irritatingly loud, Edwin's trying to concentrate, and Charles is now shivering and dripping wet, but they managed to ignore the team right up until they start speculating that Charles was killed by one of the angry spirits from 1916

At which point, Charles - half visible, clearly enraged, looking very much like the half-drowned and frozen kid he was, like a proper ghost - tells them to fuck off already before they get hurt, they don't understand anything, and how dare they give a shit now when it's too late

Which is, of course, the exact moment Edwin finishes the spell, and causes some sort of a magical rebound that fritzes the cameras for a second, throws furniture around, and knocks them all flying. When the cameras start up again, they catch Edwin kneeling by Charles, holding his hand, and softly telling him that it's ok, it's over, they can go now. Charles sniffs and smiles and knocks their foreheads together and says yeah, let's get out of here, and together they fade from view

The investigators think this means gay love can pierce the veil of death and save the day that now that the truth of their story is known the ghosts have moved on, and it's all thanks to them! How beautiful, how wonderful, how affirming! Perhaps one of the boys from 1916 tried to help Charles, and when that didn't work, they both stayed to try and protect other people from these violent spirits, and now their unfinished business is finished! It's so tragic and touching story

Charles and Edwin, who are putting their tools back in the backpack, roll their eyes and smile at each other

On the way out, Charles swipes the memory cards from the cameras, Edwin inscribes a couple of sneaky runes on various pieces of equipment to fuck with it, and Crystal uses her powers to make sure they all remember a couple of details differently, so later they won't be able to agree on a bunch of stuff

The episode they were trying to make can't be released, their social media posts about the experience are full of details that don't match up, and fans are bitterly disappointed

Crystal and Niko watch the footage Charles stole with Jenny and the Night Nurse back at the agency. Jenny turns it into a drinking game. Charles does a dramatic reading of the posts with added commentary while Edwin pretends he's not laughing. They buy t-shirts of the paranormal investigators and wear them ironically. They leave anonymous comments

Just. The dead boy detectives having to work around ghost hunters, in a world where ghosts definitely, tangibly exist

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin payne #crystal palace #niko sasaki #Not exactly a writing tag

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 2 days

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chaggie cannon affections are driving me FERAL i SWEAR

both of the on-screen chaggie kisses (or one, if you don't count Charlie smooching her gf's scarred eye, u monster) have been done in PRIVATE and i love that

that thing when a couple has a separation between Them In Public and Them Alone Together. Not in a "PDA bad" way-

(because they show affection in other small touches, in soppy smiles thrown at each other, in Charlie picking up Vaggie for a twirl hug and Vaggie's pet names for her of "sweetie" and "babe", all tossed out casually for anyone to see)

-but in a way reminds you, hey, they were together for YEARS before the show started.

Couples starting out often only have time together in public or semi-public places, dates and getting to know you meet ups. Maybe later they spend time at each other's places. Maybe they move in together and start figuring that out!

Chaggie is waaaaaaay beyond that. They share a room, share a BED, no comment on that at all, it's NORMAL for them. They've got time and space for just themselves where no one else can see

and the few times WE see them in those moments, there is the affection. Vaggie comforting Charlie in the first episode. Charlie's kiss to Vaggie's eye patch in the middle of packing for heaven. Their 'proper' kiss not in their room sure but alone TOGTHER in a hallway, away from everyone else for a moment

they're the framing device for a story that's about their hotel, not them, so we don't follow them around in off duty hours. We are seeing them AT WORK even if the hotel's guests start turning into their friends- this isn't casual at home chaggie, this is their Lets Make Our Dream Come True timeslot, and having them lean on each other physically and emotionally during it is always sweet to see, but also....

....it just reminds me SO MUCH of the couples i see irl. The ones who're clearly thinking about each other so much and having fun doing stuff together, but also know they'll have time later for kisses and snuggles.

(away from ppl who roll eyes or make faces or crack a joke, whistle playfully or groan in annoyance)

like. rewatching them meet up at the hotel gate in ep 7.

How Vaggie just lunges into that hug, Charlie ready to catch her, that way Charlie leans in close while holding her, the smile with Something in it and eyes heavy lidded- saying "C'mon, let's go home~" after complimenting her girlfriend's new wings, her face almost touching Vaggie's-

THEY! ARE HOLDING BACK SO HARD! Hearing them both sigh into their later kiss- When they're alone, stuff goes on we don't see, we don't see it because it's not PUBLIC and they are hardly ever shown really in PRIVATE

and it makes me giggle and wiggle. thinking about that

if this is chaggie holding back... then...

^////^!!!

#habin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #.#..#ASDGHagdghfBVLKNA;aknknAKLaknj nak .#ok #im normal about them again now

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sophiethewitch1 · 4 hours

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 7 - Black N' White Knight

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Dick tells Tim, hand carting through his hair. The two of them are in the kitchen, at the breakfast bar. Tim sitting in front of his laptop with his legs crossed, and Dick tapping one foot agitatedly against the marble floor. While Tim might not be grinning ear to ear, it’s pretty obvious for anyone who knows him that he’s delighted by the tale Dick just regaled to him.

And what a tale it was. He hasn’t seen you in a year and a half, and then when he does, he finds you teary eyed staring at a picture of him shirtless at the gym. Bruce had always told him the way he played with the paparazzi would come to bite him in the ass one day, but he really can’t say he expected… that.

Obviously, it had to be a prank. That’s his first thought. That’s his only thought, really. What other explanation could there be? An accident? Maybe you’d forgotten what his room looked like. It wasn’t like he kept much personal stuff in his Wayne manor room, the only markers his clothes and the letters he kept in his drawer from his parents.

And you were wearing his clothes, of all things. He’d be surprised if you forgot how much of a Superman fanboy he was, seeing as he’d spent many hours ranting to you before the explosion. So, a prank. A show of good will, an olive branch maybe? It was more likely you were just fucking with his head, as you’d done in the past. Never like this, though.

This was just… bizarre.

“I can’t either,” and of course, Tim sounds near estatic saying that. The love of chaos ran true in that one.

Dick had managed to wrangle his life under control a few years back, and despite the universe seeming to try to unravel it at the seams, he was indisposed to let it simply happen. Even if you of all people had changed. No, Dick was getting older, and he was finding his taste for chaos a lot more… limited.

He didn’t want to suffer it’s affects. He was currently suffering it’s affects.

“I knew something was going on when she showed up to the party, but this…” Tim pauses, leaning back in his chair, “It’s gotta be a prank, right?”

It said a lot about their family that this was all the assumption they defaulted to.

“It could be something else. Did you even take her to the hospital after?” Dick offers instead, overthinking as always. This situation seemed to be made for overthinking, though.

Tim hums. “No, we did not.”

Then he turns his stare to Dick, like he’s expecting something from him.

“Seriously?”

“What? You’re the friendly one.”

Dick very much did his best to seem like the friendly one, at least. Tim was well aware it was a complete farce, though. Dick was nice but he could also be a bit… well… a bit of a dick. Another thing he’d been trying to overcome. He was doing better than when he’d been seven, at least.

Dick sighs, pressing his hand to his forehead, “I’d probably just end up accidentally nagging her, and then she’d never speak to me again.”

“That’s not my problem,” Tim shrugs, glancing back down at his laptop and squinting.

“It is, actually. Because if she stopped talking to me you’d probably be the next one till the girls and Duke came home who has to talk to her.”

“She could talk to Jay,” Tim offers, because he’s a shithead. Dick bets he did the same with Bruce, “And besides, I’m busy doing surveillance.”

“You mean stalking.”

“I do it to everybody, stop making such a big deal out of it.”

Dick sighs again.

“Hm, you might want to check your phone,” Tim says, in a way that suggests he has once again tapped the network. Keeping him out of Dick’s private life was like Sisyphus and his boulder. He still wasn't going to give up, and the time Tim and Steph mercilessly bullied him for getting dumped over text had made him all the more so.

‘Dont_try’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

“Please, tell me you sent that and are just messing with me,” Dick begs, staring down at his phone in mild despair. Chaos. Always fucking chaos. Despite how hard he tried, he could not keep his family out of trouble. God damn it, when he’d gotten this job he’d been the one made for trouble. Where did he go wrong?

“Honestly, sounds like the sort of thing I’d do, but the girl just got bitch slapped so I really think you should respond fast.”

“What?!”

“She’s fine now, run to the bathrooms I think. You know for such an upstate place you’d think they had better camera positioning,” Tim mutters, complaining that he can’t watch every single little movement you make. Dick thinks he should probably worry about this, as it’s a clear sign of another decline for his sanity, but he’s now got this shit to deal with.

“Why, Tim? What is going on? Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Hm?” he’s engrossed by the computer, “Ah, the shitty boyfriend… some soup- ha, how is she such a clutz? Maybe we should get her head checked again- and… an altercation of some kind? I don’t know, I can’t see it properly.”

Dick leans forward in his stool, clasped hands covering his face for a moment.

“Are you going to reply? If you don’t soon, she’ll probably make it a bigger shitshow,” Tim says, nudging his foot against Dick’s. Dick, good big brother that he is, takes a deep breath and steadies himself. Even if this is really not what he wanted for his holiday, he’s dealt with much, much worse.

The press will have forgotten about this within the week. You, however, likely not. He’d promised to help you all those years ago, and even if he had no idea why you were reaching out to him, or if you would even be amicable when you met again, he’d still damn well do it.

He glances back down at his phone.

“What is going on?” Dick repeats to himself, and Tim’s head cocks to the side. There’s that familiar cat that got the cream grin spreading across his younger brother’s face, and it just really isn’t welcome right now.

“Intrigued yet?”

Unfortunately for both him, Tim and especially you, Dick already was.

He’s in his car in five minutes flat, finger tapping against the premium leather wheel. The sound of it is the only thing that manages to keep him sane.

Riding up to the place, Dick realises that no, maybe the press won’t be over this within the week. Considering the amount of paparazzi swarming the place, he doubted you’d be free for at least a few months. To be fair, the mysterious ex-wayne making such a scene was a bit of a big deal. Before you’d been basically invisible, despite your immense wealth and past.

Invisible? Dick thinks he spots at least twenty cameras. And that’s not even mentioning all the phones inside that would’ve gotten up close videos of whatever happened. Their legal team would handle it fine, that which Barbara or Tim couldn’t wipe from the face of the earth. And that was very little, all things considered.

Dick has to push past the calls of his name, ignoring all the intrusive questions volleyed his way like the pro he was. He still makes sure to listen carefully and store away every vital bit of information, as well as remember the logos on the film crew’s van. Eventually he makes his way to the front of the line, and the flustered front of house immediately recognises his face and sweeps him inside. Dick ducks in with a thankful smile, which he admits, falters when he enters the scene.

A scene which you are not in. Your gold digging boyfriend was, though. Of all the things Dick regrets with you, it’s not breaking the horrid relationship the two of you had apart. Or well, the fact that you totally, loudly hated his guts. He was a sensitive guy, y’know!

He sees your terribly boyfriend - George, Dick remembers - raging at some poor servers, and he knows he need to go sweep in and save the pour soul. It’ll be a hard fight, he can already tell.

Before he does so, he sends a quick text to his phone.

Underwear_guy: Where are you?

Don’t_try: I’ll be right out.

Shockingly, that was the truth. You come striding into the restaurant, and immediately all eyes are on you. It makes you stutter-step. Dick can see you visibly stiffen up, before you manage to gather your courage and keep walking. You don’t even pay him a single glance as you walk straight towards your fuming boyfriend.

You try to whisper, keeping your voice quiet and your conversation private. The boyfriend seems uninterested in the idea.

“What the fuck are you thinking?!” he cuts you off.

You glance around, and then say something else. It seems like you’re trying to defuse the situation, but George seems uninterested by the idea.

“This behaviour is ridiculous. You need to get it together, we’re in public!” he yells, like he isn’t the one causing a scene. He seems to be trying to intimidate you back into silence. But today and well, yesterday too, something is different about you.

Okay, that’s enough of that. Dick’s intervening.

“You cheated on me! You deserve it and everything that’s coming to you!”

Or, uh, maybe you’ve got it covered.

George’s shocked face is almost worse than when you literally bit him. Guess he expected you to be a bit more demure after that encounter. He should know better, the other version of you seemed to have been even more spiteful in nature.

Today again, you prove you are a less than stellar person. You’d stopped caring about George as soon as you’d discovered he’d cheated, but you were still angry. Not jealous, but furious. Bubbling up your throat, rage and bile and the urge to attack him once again, even if you just want to go home.

Your teeth grind. Your jaw ticks. And oddly, you realise you have a real taste for George Lancaster’s limbs.

Though your life had changed (literally) in the past few days, you were still the same girl from your first twenty-first. You wanted George Lancaster to suffer. Even more so, now that the evil cunt had hit you right in the face. The hit had stunned you, though. More emotionally than physically, but it had shocked you.

You couldn’t say you were a coward. You’d spent far too many days in your teenage years indulging in self-destructive behaviours to think that. But something about this pathetic man was scaring the shit out of you. You think that made you more pathetic, but you couldn’t quite tell. That’d be victim blaming, right?

You did have a habit of blaming yourself. It was just usually your fault.

…Maybe you shouldn’t have bit him, no matter how much the response was instinctual or his screech was satisfying. This was all too confusing, all too much. You needed to get back to your apartment, lock the doors and barricade them so nobody bothers you. And then maybe hibernate for a week. You needed some time to process all the stupid bullshit you were experiencing. The wayne manor was too much, your horrible white apartment was too much, George fucking Lancaster was too fucking god damn much.

You take a deep breath, and manage to stop yourself from bolting like a deer. Deal with the problem at hand. Deal with it now, deal with it!

“I’m leaving, and we are done. It’s that simple,” you tell George, trying to drill in a message that he seems unable to comprehend. At this point you’d assume he’d be trying to apologise, manipulate back into his good graces, but you think you might’ve completely broke him. Broke the script.

Good. That was damn well good.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else at least?” George replies, eyes flicking to Richard Grayson’s angry gaze. At least you think he’s angry. You can’t quite gather the courage to look directly at him.

Also, there’s the manipulation! You wish you weren’t right this time.

“Sure, but I’m bringing him, and my answer will absolutely not change. You hit me.”

“You bit me!”

Well, yeah, not your best moment. You don’t think you can regret it, though.

“Then I think this relationship is ending on equal terms,” you reply, trying your best to just get him to quit it. It is obviously not working by the way his expression darkens.

“I’ll tell the press everything,” George threatens, which, well, is sort of a shitty threat because I don’t even know what he’s threatening. ‘Everything’? Couldn’t he be a bit more specific?

You shrug. It is the wrong response, you know it is, but you’ve completely ran dry of fucks to give. Couldn’t be much worse than the bullshit happening right now. The press were already very well fed, considering the situation that was today. George makes a small sound of fury.

“We’ll sue,” Richard Grayson, the white knight that you’d daydreamed about, comes to your rescue. Is it odd that it’s kind of flustering? You probably shouldn’t be flustered.

George immediately snaps his gaze to Grayson’s, giving the man a look with a healthy dose of fear. Couldn’t blame the guy. Even if he was the second smallest of the three remaining brothers, he was still well known for being strong. His family often did kick-boxing, and their sister, Cass, often whooped their asses. It was sort of satisfying to watch. Anyway, his physical prowess from fighting to weirdo gymnastic bullshit was evident in his svelte build.

George was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. With just the one threat from the Waynes legal team, he skitters away like the little rat you know him to be. He leaves the restaurant, and he very obviously does not pay or even leave a tip. You suppose you have the cash to make up for it. Then, ignoring the paparazzi, you were technically home free. You glance to the side. Richard Grayson’s beautiful face looks a mix of confuddled, frustrated, and exhausted. He still saved you, though, even after the fool you made of yourself.

White knight, indeed. It almost feels a bit anticlimactic, but it’s the results you wanted. And yet, an ominous feeling befalls you. Somehow, you don’t feel you’ve seen the last of George Lancaster. You just really hope the old you hadn’t committed any crimes. A tabloid? Humiliating, but livable. Prison? Not so much.

Not that the rich stayed in prison in Gotham, or even the rest of the world. It was kind of strange to realise you were sort of above the law now.

You glance at Dick, pulling your uncomfortably wet shirt away from your chest. You’ve sort of been bled dry of any shits you could give at this point, so you decide, very maturely, to make jokes and ignore all your problems. It had gotten you this far.

You’d seen this behaviour before. Many, many times. It was what usually got you fired. But now you didn’t really have to worry about that, so why should you worry about causing a scene and ruining your life a bit more? It wasn’t yours, after all.

“What do you think?” you joke, elbowing Dick. He looks down from glaring at the entrance George just slipped out of, to you. His blue eyes are a damn near shock to the soul. It takes everything in you not to start fidgeting.

“Think of what?” he responds, and despite how hard you try, you can not read his expression.

“I’m trying to make some more news. Don’t think the reporters got enough the other day,” you say, gesturing to the giant stain. It’s still Dick’s shirt. You hadn’t realised till now, but the Beatles was now some sort of green soup. Is it kind of gross of you to acknowledge that at least the soup smelled good?

Probably. You didn’t actually get to eat anything here. It’s also probably a bit weird that you’re thinking about eating at a time like this. Probably.

“I think you’ve done enough, honestly,” he says, glancing at the camera flashes from outside.

He sounds exactly like your mother, it’s almost uncanny. Well, this version of him technically knew her. You’re still not sure how well en-meshed your two families had been before the disaster, but maybe he’d picked up some traits from her.

…That… you’re not sure how to feel about the idea. The old green monster bubbles up at the thought, and you can’t tell if you’re jealous your mum got to meet Dick Grayson, or that Dick Grayson might’ve gotten to know your mum.

“We should leave,” he says, cutting off your bitter inner thoughts, “I know you don’t like it when the magazines bother you.”

You don’t? You don’t. Yes, that makes sense, ‘you’ definitely wouldn’t have. And it’s not like you feel comfortable with them either. In fact, if you think about the fact your drowned rat appearance will be on every tabloid in the city by tomorrow, probably alongside photos from your birthday, you feel so nauseous you could collapse. Going to compartmentalise that one.

“Yes, going, let’s go,” you say, following Dick out of the restaurant.

Despite the fact that the security guards are trying their best, it’s getting quite rowdy out here. When Dick wraps an arm around your shoulder, shielding you with his body, you almost just pass out right there. His muscles… Your heart simply can’t take it. As it is, Dick notices you jump like a foot in the air, and backs off. He still makes sure to try and protect you from their vision as much as possible.

Still, in an act that is purely rebellious, you turn and give them a big smile and a wave. Even as you hate every single person on the other side of the divide, you want to make one thing very clear. You will not be cowed by someone like George fucking Lancaster. Your peace sign and wink are a message to them, to him, and to yourself.

Despite the fact that this new life is one you have no idea how to handle, you know one thing. Put on a face, and it’ll always be easier.

Dick is probably wondering what the hell happened to you for you to be acting this way. Your shirt has a giant stain on it, you just broke up with your cheating boyfriend, went through a traumatising experience just a few days ago, and you’ve got the biggest grin on your face. This behaviour speaks more and more of a full blown mental breakdown. And it’s not the first you’ve had or the last.

There’s paparazzi snapping thousands of photos of the two of you, and instead of shying away as ‘you’ used to, you throw up a peace sign. One of the papps drops their camera. That confuses you a bit, as your peace sign deflates slightly. Didn’t they want more pictures? Weren’t you supposed to pose…?

For all you stalked celebrities online, you realise you have no idea how to pretend to be one. This is going to become an issue, you can already tell.

He points at a car, and you assume it’s his because he starts making his way over. He’s obviously done this sort of thing before, using and guiding the security with a smooth confidence. Even still, the two of you are a bit too close for comfort.

Which you prove, by putting your foot directly in your mouth.

“I don’t have abs, but do you think the press would like my stomach like they like yours?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. Another poor joke. You are deflecting so hard. And why the hell did you bring that up, you dunce? You feel your brain cells draining the more you’re around this guy, it’s not healthy for you.

“Please don’t pull your shirt up in public,” Dick sounds like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. It’s spreading, like the plague. You’re patient zero, of course. Even still he gets you guys to the car, and opens the side door for you. You follow his wordless command and slip into the passenger seat.

“I won’t. Sorry, sorry,” you reply, to relieve him of some of the trauma you’re currently inflicting.

He glances back to the papps, and then back down at you. His smile bowls you over like he’s getting the last strike in a fucking 300. He genuinely is the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen. Thankfully, he closes the door so you have a moment to gather your sanity before he goes around the car and gets in the driver’s seat.

You hope you’re subtle when you shift away from him slightly. It shouldn’t be that surprising really. You were stupid on average. You would be stupider around attractive people. You would be frankly disastrous around someone as blastingly hot as Dick Grayson. The Waynes in general turned you into a drooling idiot.

Good god, you need to get out of this car. As soon as you think that, Dick is pulling away from the parking spot and out onto the streets. He makes slow progress because Gotham traffic, but eventually you manage to flee the horrifying stares of the cameras. Already you can tell it’ll be giving you nightmares. Probably along with images of the guy who tried to rape you and Damian Wayne sneering at you.

“So, how are you feeling?”

Despite how you wish it not, Mr. Grayson decides he’s going to start a conversation with you.

“Good,” you reply, the answer instinctive and an obvious lie.

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, but you don’t dare return it.

“That’s good to hear,” he says, and his voice is gentle. Sort of infantilising if you’ll be honest.

While it is very clear to anyone who looks at you that you have no idea what you’re doing, you’d rather he didn’t bring it up. You’ll figure it out. You’ve always managed to figure it out. This is what you get for asking for help. Really, despite your momentary panic you could’ve taken George. Probably not physically, but…

“You can talk to me if you want, you know?”

“Can you stop the car, please?” you respond, when that question immediately activates your fight or flight response. Dick must notice something about you, because he quickly shoots forward and into a momentarily available parking spot.

You scramble with the door, shoving your way back out onto the asphalt. The immediate distinct smell of Gotham, even Gotham’s richer districts, calms you down. Sewage, the ocean, and the ever present smoke and fog.

Fuck’s sake. You aren’t making yourself look anymore well put together.

Clearing your throat, you turn and find Richard Grayson coming around the car hood towards you. There’s a worried look in his eyes, and you really don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like you made a deal with the devil. By getting rid of George, you’d gotten a new problem - and an infinitely more complicated one.

Shit, you need to stop making rash decisions when you’re having panic attacks. You’d say you should probably try and stop having panic attacks entirely, but you don’t really know how to do that.

The sound of your name has you snapping back to attention. Dick looks even more worried.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, taking a few slow steps towards you. Again, infantilizing. Like you’re a wild animal about to run. Wait, weren’t you just comparing yourself to a chihuahua? Well, it’s not the same when other people do it.

“I’d like to take a walk,” you say, hand scrunching into your pyjama pants, “Alone, I’d like some time alone.”

“…In that?” He glances down at the stain that is slowly starting to dry. It’s making your skin itchy, but at least it’s not as cold.

“I can buy something,” you say, remembering one of the apps on your phone was connected to your bank account, which you had to assume was pretty full. It’s kind of stupid that you haven’t checked that yet.

You’re starting to feel a bit defensive towards your own intelligence. Maybe it’s because you seemingly keep making all the worst decisions.

Dick doesn’t make it any better.

“Do you have cash on you?” he asks, showing how little faith he has in your general abilities to survive as an adult in Gotham.

“I do, I’ll be fine,” you insist, because god damn it, you will be. You just need a fucking minute.

You ran from the Wayne manor because you felt like you were being watched, and then as soon as you showed up at the world’s most uncomfortable apartment, the haunting wraith known as George dragged you out in your P.J.s. You could figure it the fuck out, if these people would give you some fucking space.

Richard Grayson seems to realise that you’re getting upset, because he goes quiet for a moment. After staring at you for a moment longer, for which you manage to find the courage to maintain eye contact through pure stubborn will, he asks you one final question.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home or something?” he asks, still seeming so determined to help you.

His suggestion brings flashes of images of you breaking down in front of the Bruce Wayne to mind. From almost a birds eye view, you see yourself sobbing against your own ruined dress as the billionaire looked on. Bile literally jumps up your throat, and it takes a lot of willpower not to grimace at the suggestion.

“Look, Mr. Grayson, I really appreciate-”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that.”

Once again, you feel the urge to simply sprint away from your own problems, but you manage to hold yourself still. Still, you can’t think of a solution. You can’t really think much of anything. Instead you stare at Richard Grayson with your hands threaded together and your lips pressed into a thin line.

Though you open your mouth to speak, you find you have no excuses ready or available. You’ve talked yourself into a corner already, and it’s your third day in this world. Marvellous. Maybe you should just tell the truth.

Still, the dangers outweigh the pros. They don’t know you, they don’t have any real reason to take care of you. If they believe you, they’ll toss you out onto the streets penniless. And if they don’t-

You blink. There’s a highway sign behind Dick, and it catches your attention like a lightning bolt. ‘Arkham Asylum 800 miles’. It’s white blocky letters on green panelling feels like a sign from god, warning you from the path you consider taking.

And then you realise that you might actually get sent to Arkham if you say anything, and you resolve to never tell a single soul about what has happened to you. You’ve heard enough stories about the asylum, and by god, you are not being roommates with the fucking Joker of all people.

Eventually Dick realises he’s not getting anything out of you and he sighs, shaking his head. His annoyingly perfect hair mesmerises you for a second, but you manage to wrangle your brain back under control. He really doesn’t make it easy.

“I just want to know if you’re safe. If you’re going through anything, you know we’re always happy to help-”

“Dick,” you say his name, face twisting in discomfort, “This was a… a one time thing. Usually I can handle my problems. It just… it caught me off guard. George cheating was a huge shock, and I needed someone to stand by me.”

“And you know I always will, right?”

Ah. That’s… Dick Grayson was a stranger. You didn’t know him, and more than that he did not know you. He did not know what you would do, could do. You didn’t think anyone did, not even yourself.

It’s a silly idea to expect your celebrity crush to save you, and it’s one you find you can’t stomach it at the moment. It makes you feel disgusted with yourself at the idea. It’s too indulgent, too silly. It’s very simply, not possible.

You’ve given up on relying on miracles. These lessons had been beaten into you, really. You didn’t want to have to learn them again.

Your feelings must show on your face.

Dick lets out a whoosh of air, frustration palpable. He carts his hand through his hair. It still looks perfect. The world is unfair, yadda yadda.

“You run hot and cold, you know?” he gives you a grin. It says a lot about his ability to act, seeing as it seems almost natural. Almost, being the key word.

Also, he is absolutely correct. The chihuahua effect is in full-swing. And you know what? You are probably going to continue to run hot and cold, because you’ve never made a decision in your life. He’ll just have to get used to it.

You raise your hands and shrug, in the universal ‘what-can-you-do?’ motion. He wasn’t wrong. You were being completely erratic. Not even you knew what you’d do next. At least life isn’t boring these days, right Right? You wonder who you are trying to fool, because it’s certainly not yourself.

“I’ll contact you if I need anything,” you lie, because it seems to be the right thing to end this torturous conversation, “And I’ll make sure to keep contact with Alfred. You can talk to Jeanine if you need anything, as well.”

Dick, unfortunately, calls you out on your bullshit.

“But not you, right?” he says, smile still printed on his face.

Woof. You think… you’ve hurt his feelings? Ah shit, you instantly feel like the scum of the earth. Still, you don’t know how you could fix this. Arkham is a genuine threat lingering over your shoulder, you don’t know enough about your new cut-throat billionaire world, and you can not lose any faith they have in you. Any that you have left, that is.

You’re sorry, but this is coming down to survival. And you are a greedy person, after all.

In the end, you don’t have anything to say, and Richard Grayson leaves without a word. Watching him walk towards his car, you feel… bad. Really bad. The part of you that is still crushing on this guy, a very large part of you, feels like you’ve ended the earth. The other part, the one that recognises that once again you’re going to have to fight for yourself… well, she thinks so too.

Maybe… maybe you could fix this. Apologise. Once you’ve gotten your bearings and know you’re safe and 100% financially stable, maybe you’ll figure it out. Give him his shirt back after you’ve dry-cleaned it.

For now, you give him your back as well.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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dangerpronebuddie · 1 day

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WIP Wednesday!!

Tagged through the week by lots of people (thank y'all I always enjoy reading your stuff 💜) and today by @wikiangela and @inell who both shared AMAZING stuff y'all should show some love 🩷💚

Still working on Severed Artery, but it's been slow going. It's been... a week™, and the words just aren't wording. I am hoping to have this finished soon because I really like it (most of it anyway lol). While I sit and stare at the doc until it stares back, have some of The Boys vs Helena Diaz:

“Mom,” Eddie says before she can get started. “I know you're worried, but we've got it handled.” “Eddie, you can't even walk more than a few feet without falling over,” she points out with a huff. “What makes you think you can single handedly take care of Christopher? Or yourself?” “Not single handedly,” Buck declares. Helena turns her icy gaze on Buck. “Excuse me?” “Eddie can take care of himself and Chris, he has been for years, but that doesn't mean he's been alone,” Buck says. “I'm not saying he's incapable,” Helena says slowly. She always did that when she was trying not to explode. “All I'm saying is he's going to need help.” “And he has it,” Buck says easily. "I think you might be overstepping, young man," she says in the same tone she always used to scold Eddie with his whole life. “You've done what you were asked.” “Don’t you dar-” Buck stops Eddie's protest with a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his gaze never leaving Helena's. "I step in wherever Eddie wants me.” “Like taking my grandson from me?” Helena scoffs. “Mom-” “Why didn't you tell us?” she asks, looking at Eddie with watery eyes. There are a million reasons why Eddie didn't tell them. A million more why he never intended to tell Buck. But Buck needed to know, deserved to know, and it was the only way Eddie could give Buck his heart and still protect it from being shattered. “I knew how you’d react,” Eddie says, taking the easiest explanation. “You didn’t even consider the possibility of him going with you,” Helena huffs. “It’s not about that,” Eddie counters. “Christopher’s life is here. He loves Buck-” “And he loves us-” “I’m not saying he doesn’t, but-” “Then why choose-” “Because he loves Buck like a father,” Eddie blurts out.

(tags under the cut. As always, please let me know if you want to be added/ removed):

@13shadesofanni @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @tizniz @loveyouanyway

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @daffi-990 @kitteneddiediaz

@exhuastedpigeon @spagheddiediaz @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @thekristen999

@actuallyitsellie @daniwib @fortheloveofbuddie @wildlife4life @theotherbuckley

@rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@lunarspark-cos @idealuk @shipperqueen6 @slowlyfoggydestiny

@misshiss727 @likeamollusconarock @lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92

@smallandalmosthonest @thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 @totallynotagoraphobic @dandelioncasey @bibuckbuckgoose @whatsgoodinthehood22

@lady-elaine @buckley-diaz-rules @buddiedaydreamer911 @monroemary @pirate-hunter @nonspeakingkiku

And @just-passing-through04

And anyone else who wants to share!! 🥰🩷

#911 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #helena diaz #911 abc #9-1-1 #fanfic #Maggie writes #buddie wip #911 wip #the severed artery fic #she has a title now!#fic: blood on my shirt (heart in my hand)#wip wednesday

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xonavia · 2 days

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Hello!! How are you? I hope youre doing well!! :D

Could i request reo, nagi and rin having a crush on professional volleyball player!fem reader that is quiet and a bit intimidating?

Have a nice day!! (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)

Hii! I'm doing good! So excited for the last week of school but I'm swamped with end of year tests 😭 And I hope you have a great day/night as well!! So sorry it took me a while to get around to writing your request, and I hope you enjoy!!<3

Reo Mikage -> Is most likely a little intimidated when he first met you but when he realized that you were actually sweet and just a little quiet he wasn't as nervous -> Kinda excited that your also an athlete, since you know about the harsh trainings and when he went through the Nagi thing about teammates and things like that -> Will buy you things that you need, even if you make your own money, since ya know being all professional and stuff, but still does try to swipe that card when you're not looking -> Will come to your tournaments, and will invite you to all his games, unless you two have something else going on were you can't make it but he really does try -> Being in the news, both as professional athletes you most likely are in the news together, but it's fine, everybody thinks y'all are cute together, even if they only see the RBF face that you normally have -> When you're done with your games and stuff has actually had to convince a couple of your fans that you're not as mean as you may look -> Overall, y'all are really cute and even cuter behind closed doors after a practice, for either one of you and are just laying together, maybe in silence, maybe the background noise of a TV show playing Nagi Seishiro -> Probably just gave you a weird look when he first met you, I mean you did look a little scary to him, maybe it's just an athlete thing.. -> He kinda related you and Barou in his mind and at first, even if you looked nothing alike besides the fact you had a little bit of an intimidating expression -> A little more intrigued when he realized that you were also an Athlete, I mean somebody else to understand his pain of always being sore and not wanting to go to practice, right?? -> When he finally met you though and realized that you weren't as intimidating as you seemed and were actually quite quiet he was a little off put but soon learned that you weren't anything like Barou -> Has possibly tried to convince to skip practice and stay home, but if you say no, he'll actually get up and try to work on something with you, but if you say yes then he'll cuddle up to you and just sit there in silence -> Both you and Nagi have faces that kinda seem to have faces that don't really tell you what you're thinking on the inside, so you're def a hard to read couple, and most people don't even know your dating -> But once when an interviewer mentioned his need to be somewhat close to you at events he just outright said that you two were actually dating Rin Itoshi -> Also looks pretty intimidating, so y'all work well together -> The media's favorite RBF athlete duo -> Anywho, kinda loves the fact that you are also an athlete, I mean (again) you understand the amounts of training that he has to undergo, and with like ball control and stuff -> Loves when you two talk about what you've been working on, and even when he doesn't fully understand what you mean by "setting to outside hitter" or "Jump serves" he does still try his best to start understanding -> Likes going to your games, and trying to understand what the hell you were talking about -> Also likes when you show up to his games, even if he never actually shows it -> Loves learning about your sport even if you don't always talk about it, and even if he never actually shows it, also tries to include some of the things that you tell him about your sport into his, kinda like a little memento towards you

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #xonavia's writings!

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allwaswell16 · 3 days

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All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in May 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #62 | ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

🍃 Ocean Wave Blues by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(M, 49k, pirates) After the gruesome death of his Alpha, Harry takes over as the Captain of the Rose Arrow. Trying his best to uphold her reputation as being the most dreadful pirate ship to sail the Seven Seas.

🍃 and so I have to say (before I go) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 27k, mystery) Sometimes falling in love is taking a leap of faith, jumping into the unknown with your eyes closed, hoping someone will be there to catch you. Sometimes falling in love is seeing the person in front of you, all their flaws and imperfections, and taking that leap nonetheless.

🍃 Room For One More Troubled Soul by patdkitten / @babyarcanacasey

(M, 25k, supernatural elements) Louis Tomlinson is the chief medical examiner of the Centre for the Law Enforcement of Supernatural Beings - more commonly referred to as simply "The Centre".

🍃 High heels on, 'm feeling alive by thebreadvan / @thebreadvansstuff

(M, 14k, uni) Harry damages a car when drunkenly stumbling home after a fun night out with his friends. Feeling horribly guilty, he tries to find the owner and make it up to him.

🍃 oh so familiar by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 13k, witch Harry/vampire Louis) A story of misguided enemies to lovers brought together by a stubborn orange tabby.

🍃 I Dig Your Cinema by @silverstuff50

(E, 12k, exes) It wasn’t that Louis didn’t want to see Harry’s latest film; it was a tragically pathetic fact that Louis had watched every single show and film, every interview, every red carpet that Harry had done since his ex-boyfriend had decided to leave Uni in the second year and pursue an acting career.

🍃 Haze on the horizon by @lunarheslwt

(E, 6k, established relationship) Louis finds himself unexpectedly going into soft heat. Which would’ve been fine, except he is hundreds of miles away from his alpha, Harry, and he needs him. They make it work.

🍃 You're Already Home by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 5k, magical realism) It's Christmas Eve and Harry's life is normal. Then he finds someone's barred the door to his favourite hiding spot -- the old groundskeeper's cottage -- and suddenly Harry's life isn't normal anymore.

🍃 just a couple of my cravings by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(G, 3k, crush) Summer's just around the corner and Louis' battling his addictions... Cigarettes and Harry Styles.

🍃 I'm not that other guy by @jaerie

(E, 3k, omegaverse) Harry has just come back from maternity leave when he unexpectedly goes into heat. He runs into a coworker on his way out.

🍃 Change of Plans by @haztobegood

(G, 2k, omegaverse) Harry and Louis plan to visit their families over Christmas. Sometimes, plans don't work out.

🍃 Into the Woods by @kingsofeverything

(E, 2k, tree adjacent porn lol) Whenever he hikes, Harry keeps an eye out for trees with knots and scars that resemble buttholes. What started as fodder for his silly little Instagram account has become his favorite way to masturbate.

🍃 Lights Are So Bright by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(G, 2k, famous/famous) Newly first-string quarterback Louis Tomlinson mentions enough times in interviews that he's a fan of mega-famous popstar Harry Styles that people start to notice. At least one person does...

🍃 mosquito bites and cheap beer by @juliusschmidt

(M, 2k, exes-ish) Harry’s careful not to look at Louis as he plays. At least, he starts out that way. Part 2 of Cabin on the Bluff

🍃 Different Than You Do by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(T, 2k, love confession) Louis and Harry have been friends for a little over four years. Louis has been in love with Harry for most of those years, even if he didn’t want to admit it at first. What happens when he impulsively decides to tell him?

🍃 On Love's Doorstep by @hellolovers13

(T, 1k, neighbors) Harry Styles: a day in the life...Stuck in a dress, Abandoned by his best friend, Date with hot neighbour. All in all, not the worst day ever

🍃 My heart's in overdrive, and you're behind the steering wheel by @louisthiccsexyglitteryass

(E, 1k, uni) Being late to class means Harry and Louis have to pose together for figure drawings. That being said, the hate each other, but maybe they don't?

🍃 Expresso by @reallynotmemoi

(NR, 880 words, uni) Louis falls in love at first sight with a boy from his Tuesday lectures, and proceeds to make a fool out of himself in front of said boy. But maybe not all is lost…

- Rare Pairs -

🍃 better latte than never by @disgruntledkittenface

(M, 1k, Zayn/Harry) Harry was looking forward to the coffee cart at work. Until the subject of the previous night's fantasies lined up next to him.

🍃 No Constraints by @lululawrence

(NR, 863 words, Louis/Greg James) Louis is really not understanding this particular section of his Vector Calculus course, and his tutor doesn't seem to get what Louis is having a hard time with. Until he does.

#28th appreciation #ficrec #1dficvillage #hljournal #hlcreators #1dsquad

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justhellabifandom · 3 days

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I'm so sick and tired of the toxicity going on currently in the 9-1-1 fandom. Like don't get me wrong every fandom has it's toxic side but this bs has just grown since Buck came out and Tommy and him started dating.

Like TommyxBuck shippers have been sending people de*th threats to people who have different opinions,or buddie shippers. If your reaction to anyone talking negative about your favorite ship is to send them de*th threats there's something really wrong with you.

Then there's all the biphobia going on. Saying shit like "I hope Buck gets HIV after breaking up with Tommy." Or "Buck isn't bi if he wasn't with Tommy." I'm begging you look up the definition of bisexual,Buck could date another woman or date another dude after Tommy and still be bisexual!! He could date a non-binary person and still be bisexual. Just because hes dating Tommy doesn't mean he's any less bisexual,and if theres ever a break up it doesn't make him any less bisexual. His journey doesn't depend around Tommy,it's his and no one's else. Also saying your hoping a character gets HIV is fucked up for a few reasons,it's stereotyping bisexuals/queer people and it's harmful. Like do people not know what that is?? How people used to use it a excuse to hate queer people in the 1980s and 1990s?? And the people we lost to it??

Now let's get to people wanting Eddie to be killed off. People generally want a cannon Latino to be killed off just so Tommy and Buck raise Chris??? Once again tf. And the fact people now want Eddie to be killed off after his actor opened up about a su*c*de attempt?? This generally hurts people who have delt with this stuff and for people to want this to happen,when we had both Maddie and Bobby struggle with it. Don't get me wrong mental health needs to be talked about more and I'm thankful for 9-1-1 for talking about it,but it's the fact people want this to parallel what the actor went through blows my mind.

Then people trying to justify Lou ferrgnio racist and grows past. I'm sorry if your using Ryans and Olivers past to validate the stuff he's done,is so messed up. What Ryan did cost him his relationship with the rest of the cast for a few years,and he got cancelled and attacked online back in 2020. It's only now Ryan and the rest of the cast have made addends,but it doesn't change the fact he was held accountable for his actions which he should be. He's apologized,showed he wanted to and made sure he would do better. Nothing will change the fact he said it. For Lou he literally kept shit up on his Instagram and never took it down,and tried to justify his characters actions. He never apologized,never took down the post,he just kept it up even though it's harmful. If someone does something they should be held accountable for there actions,even if it's from the past since it could still hurt people now. Also charging 200 dollars for cameros just to make up head cannons about his character.

Also ignoring cannon,like big plots like Buck literally hating his name,gets pissed off at his parents for calling him it. And now people are calling him Evan?

#911 abc #911 show #eddie diaz #evan buck buckely #evan buckley #buddie #tommy kinard #lou ferrigno jr #ryan guzman #oliver stark #bummy #tommy buck #tevan

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cy-cyborg · 11 hours

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I'm getting a little tierd of the idea because amputees get more representation in media, it means rep for our disability is better and we "have enough"

People are right, we do have way more rep than really any other disability, im not going to deny that, and ive joked before about how often people write amputees without even realising it. So you would think, by sheer numbers, we should have at least some good representation, but by-and-large that is not the case. Legitimatly, the closest example I can think of to point to of good amputee rep is Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood and even that uses multiple tropes I hate (the miracle cure/quest for the miracle cure, the almost perfect prosthetic replacement/forgetting the chatacter is an amputee until it breaks or needs repairs, refusal to call prosthetics, "prosthetics" (automail), the amputee who can't do anything without a prosthetic) and they call Ed a slur for another disability (m*dget) CONSTANTLY. I love fmab deeply, it legitimatly helped me feel seen and represented as a childhood amputee in a way no other show has even come close to, and when it gets it right, it gets it really right, but it's also very far from great and should not be the best example I can think of. Especially nearly 15 years after it released...

A big part of the reason why I don't read many books anymore is because of the sheer amount of books with downright offensively bad amputee rep, some of which were touted as good by people with other disabilities and were recommended to me as good examples. others times, I wasn't even looking for books with amputee/disability rep, it just popped up. It has ruined one of my childhood hobbies for me. Ive tried to get back into reading again as an adult but it hasn't gotten better in that time i was away. I was kicked out of 3 different scifi writing groups on facebook and reddit for asking people to remember "cybernetic enhancement" users are amputees - a real group of people, and maybe debating weather or not we're less human isnt great, and for pointing out seeing those discussions every day was making me feel pretty unwelcome in that space (yes i know, "real" cyberpunk isnt trying to say that, i had to turn notifications off on my post about the topic, it doesnt change the fact that newer creators in the genre dont seem to get that bit, that ive seen cyberpunk writers in these spaces say that debating weather people who loose more parts of their body were less human was, in fact, their intent but they hadnt even considered the fact this made their chatacters amputees, it doesnt change the fact that these tropes, intentionally or not, help make those spaces hostile for disabled fans/creators, especially amputees).

But yeah, I should be thankful I get more rep than other disabilities, no matter the quality, right?

It doesn't just stop at being me being made uncomfortable, though. The sheer, overwhelming amount of amputee chatacters with "perfect prosthetics" has had a noticeable impact on how we are perceived irl. In my lifetime, the general idea people have about multi-limbed amputees in particular has gone from "literally the worst thing that can happen to a person and the worst disability to have" to "is it even a disability? The prosthetic fixes it". These are both wildly untrue and harmful ideas about my disability that were both perpetuated by media, but now that the second one is taking root, it's causing real problems. I have not been shy in talking about how I have to fight to maintain my NDIS funding every time I get something done with my prosthetics, and had to get my prosthetist to sign off, twice, that my fancy prosthetic knee that costs the same as a higher-end new car ($125,000 AUD) is not, in fact a cure and I still need help with other things. It took me nearly 2 years to get a new wheelchair because they didn't understand why I needed it if I had the prosthetics - which to be honest, is not comfortable for me to wear, let alone use all day every day. Guys this isn't just assholes on the street or on twitter saying dumb shit, it's the people in the government body who decide how much funding I get to help with my disability who beleive it. People who have very real control over my life. It's not entirely the media's fault, but when the sheer, overwhelming majority of representation for people like me confirms that belief, it's hard to ignore the possibility that these portrayals are contributing to it, you know?

Which makes it so frustrating when I come on here and see other disability writing advice blogs saying to not write amputees because they have so much representation already. We do, I can acknowledge that, but the vast, vast majority of it is shit, and no one, not even other disabled people, are listening to us about it. And what makes it even worse, is the people they're advising to not writing amputees are the creators who care enough to be doing the research. They're the ones willing to listen, to ask questions. They could be the start of the positive change. But instead they're advised to not even bother with us.

And don't get me wrong, other disabilities ARE under-represented. There are so many disabilities, including some I have myself, that I've never seen represented as anything other than the butt of a joke. There does need to be more reprentation of disabilities other than amputation and limb differences. 100%! but can you please talk about that without saying "amputees have enough"

This isn't even touching on how amputees/people with limb differences who dont/cant use prosthetics, or even folks who use prosthetics sometimes but not others, are almost never represented unless it's for pitty-porn, or how the non-fictional media's (news outlets, etc) portrayal of amputees in particular is used to justify hurting very real, very vunderable people but this rant is long enough and honestly, ive got enough thoughts to make whole other posts on those subjects. That second one in particular deserves its own (more thought-out) spotlight and shouldn't be a footnote in a frustrated rant post lol.

#writing disability with cy cyborg (unfiltered)#disability #disabled #writing #writeblr #writing disability #disability representation #amputee #amputee representation #rant #long post

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coco-loco-nut · 12 hours

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Choices

pairing: logan x reader, pato o’ward x reader

summary: when your first love comes back into your life, you are stuck between two choices.

a/n: please enjoy my drunk, post-indy, fic idea (i wrote most of the plot while drunk at the bar. college towns are great guys 😂)

masterlist

———————

“I am so proud of you, amor!” Pato hugs you as soon as he sees you after your graduation. He’s been supporting you since you joined the team as an undergraduate engineering last summer with Arrow McLaren.

“I couldn’t have done it without your support, Pato,” you smile, admiring your boyfriend. He would make sure to visit you when he got the chance, and he always picked up when you called needing to vent or asking for motivation. Your lock screen was a picture of the two of you at a hockey game you snuck him into the student section for, he showed up as a surprise that weekend to help you relax.

“Don’t say that, you got this because of your own merit. The guys send their congratulations, by the way,” Pato tells you. The only people who know about you dating are the other drivers, you didn’t want to risk your internship.

“I hope they aren’t too tired of me, I just accepted an offer for a full time position,” you tell him what you’ve been keeping secret the past few months.

“You deserve it. Does that mean you will be coming to Indy with me?” Pato asks, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Of course. Now, let’s find my parents, I know they will want pictures,” you kiss Pato quickly before looking for your parents. He spots them waiting a few yards away and pulls you over. They have to leave after a celebratory lunch, but Pato stays to help you finish packing up your apartment. You utilize his muscles for putting things in your U-Haul trailer. He even manages to convince you to let him drive to Indianapolis with you.

It doesn’t take you long to settle in with the team that year. Your coworkers throw you a 23rd birthday party the next spring, inviting everyone who worked in the garage (including the drivers) to celebrate. You worked your tail off proving why you deserve to be there and they said you deserve to let loose before the summer.

Later that second summer you are on a date with Pato for your two year anniversary when you get a call from your boss offering a promotion, which you quickly accept.

“You deserve it, you’ve worked so hard,” Pato reaches across the table, grabbing your hand and squeezing it.

“Your support makes it possible, babe,” you reply, squeezing his hand back. You are so helplessly in love with him. At the end of the season, Pato has a ring picked out and he had a plan before he is flown out to Abu Dahbi to drive in free practice for Formula One.

Unbeknownst to Pato, while he is away you are asked to join a virtual meeting with some higher up engineers at McLaren.

“We’d like you to join our Formula One team as we finish developing next year’s car. We will assist in your relocation, all you need to do is say yes,” the offer is virtually laid in front of you. Your mind immediately goes to Pato.

“When do you need an answer?” you ask, making sure you don’t sound disinterested.

“Two days,” they say and you nod.

“I’ll have my decision into you by then. Thank you so much for the opportunity,” you tell them, mulling it over in your brain. A copy of the details pops up in your inbox.

“We hope you say yes,” they tell you as you leave the call.

As you read the document, you know what your answer is going to be. The next day Pato returns and you go for a walk through the local park.

“Will you marry me?” Pato blurts and your heart drops.

“Patricio-,” you start and he cuts you off.

“I know, we are young but-,” this time you cut him off.

“I’m moving to England. McLaren wants me to move to the F1 team, and they are offering to pay for me to get my Masters as well as helping with my relocation, and the money is good,” you start to ramble but stop when the hurt in his eyes matches the hurt in your heart.

“Mi amor, I can support you here, I have enough money for both of us,” he says, praying you didn’t accept yet.

“Babe, I know, but I have to do it for myself. I have to accept the job,” you say, silently pleading that he understands.

“What about us,” tears start rolling down his cheeks.

“I don’t know, Patricio,” tears form in your eyes as you say his name softly, he loves it when you call him by his full name.

“We can make it work,” Pato says, despite both of you knowing it won’t.

“Pato,” your voice cracks with emotion. The two of you know what has to happen.

“I know. At least keep this, it’s only meant for you. Maybe one day it will be on its rightful place,” he pulls out the ring and shows it to you. That’s when the tears flow, and he pulls you into him.

“Please don’t think that I don’t love you. I would say yes a million times if it wasn’t for this offer. This is the hardest decision I’ve ever made,” you cry as he holds you tight.

“I know. I love you more than you know,” he whispers. He walks you back to your apartment, leaving you with a heartfelt kiss goodbye. A few days later you are gone.

When you meet Logan and Oscar, you are wary of them, they remind you too much of Pato, but it only takes a week for them to crack your shell. They saw how sad you were and learned how young you are and immediately wanted to get to know the new American on the team.

You carefully balance work and classes, wishing you could pick up the phone and call Pato, but you can’t. Instead, you fiddle with the ring you keep on a chain around your neck, you added a P charm to the necklace.

“Y/n! I want you to meet Logan, he’s American too,” Oscar drags a blonde boy into the motorhome behind him during testing. You look up from your coursework and offer a welcoming smile.

“There aren’t many Americans around, are there?” you jokingly ask, motioning for Logan to sit down.

“No. So where are you from?” Logan asks as you quickly mark where you are at. Oscar slips out of the room, hoping his matchmaking skills worked as you tell Logan about your start in Indycar.

Oscar failed at first, you were determined to keep Logan in the friend zone. But he broke down your walls and somehow convinced you to date him a couple months later.

Everything goes smoothly from late May until October when COTA comes around. You visit your family the week before the race, and that’s when your mother drops a bomb.

“What are you going to do when you see Pato this weekend?” she asks.

“What?”

“Didn’t you see? Pato is driving free practice at COTA and Mexico,” your mom tells you and you feel your stomach flip, it takes everything in you to not reach for the ring around your neck.

“No, I must’ve missed that email,” you say softly. You do really love Logan, but there is a reason you can’t bring yourself to take off the necklace unless you are with Logan. There’s been times when you have wanted to tell him, Oscar, and Lando about Pato, but you never do, it’s too painful.

You arrive at COTA and it’s clear something is off, but you brush every question off. Pato arrives the same way, nervous to see you again. He is wearing a hair tie on his wrist, one that you left behind. He wears it for the same reason you wear the ring.

“Oh! One of our engineers is from America, used to work in IndyCar. Maybe you know her,” Lando says to Pato, not picking up on Pato’s uncomfortableness as Lando drags him around. It’s odd for the Mexican driver to be uncomfortable.

“Y/n, hi,” Pato awkwardly and breathlessly says, you almost drop your tablet from where you are standing in the garage. How is it possible for him to look this good.

“Patricio, hi. How are you doing? Tough luck on the 500, I meant to text you,” you say softly, setting the tablet down and approaching him and Lando. He can barely breathe, to him you’ve only gotten more beautiful.

“Thanks, it’s okay, I’ll get it next year. Maybe I would’ve won if you were there,” Pato ruefully smiles, your heart drops.

“Maybe, but don’t think like that. You’ve always been okay driving without me,” you match his rueful smile. Lando looks between you, a little confused. Pato goes to say something, noticing a P sticking out of the collar of your shirt where a necklace is, but Oscar interrupts.

“Hey, Logan is looking for you outside,” Oscar tells you, you can’t suppress the happy look on your face.

“It was nice talking to you again, Pato,” you tell the Mexican and quickly exit towards where Logan is waiting.

“How do you know her?” oscar asks suspiciously, picking up the longing look Pato is giving you.

“She’s my ex, she broke up with me when she moved to formula one. We were going to get married,” Lando cringes. he remembers how sad you were when you joined the team, it’s why he befriended you. “Who is Logan?” Pato asks Oscar, feeling like he’s missing something.

“Her boyfriend,” Oscar says, feeling the urge to defend his best friend and engineer, but also wanting to crawl in a hole and die.

“That’s something you need to talk about with her, if it makes any difference, she was unhappy for a long time after moving here,” Lando says, ending that topic.

Pato nods, turning his focus to the drive. Luckily for you, you are currently one of Lando’s engineers, so you are busy with him all weekend.

“Y/n, we should talk,” Pato approaches you carefully.

“Pato,” you say his name warily, it’s like a dagger to his heart.

“Please. Come with me to Mexico. I won’t try anything out of respect to your boyfriend, but we both deserve to talk about some stuff. Plus, Mami and Elba miss you,” Pato says and you pause to think about it.

“San Antonio is on the way,” you think out loud, still mulling it over.

“It’s just tomorrow that we’d be there, leaving first think Tuesday morning to get to the track on time,” Pato insists. Even if it’s a bad idea, almost all of you wants to go.

“Okay, I’ll join you,” you relent, and he almost hugs you.

“I’ll drive you from the hotel,” Pato says, turning to leave before turning around again. “You will have to unblock my number so I can text you,” he adds and you fight the smile playing on your lips.

“I never blocked you, Patricio,” you admit, and his heart melts at how you say his name.

“Oh, I will see you soon then,” he says, not quite sure how to reply, leaving you to pack you backpack.

“You okay?” Lando asks and you shoot him a weird look.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We know you used to date him,” Lando says and your eyes widen.

“We?”

“Oscar and I, yeah. Wait, you aren’t even denying it,”

“I broke up with him to take the job here when he was proposing even when I wanted to say yes, we dated most of the time I was at Arrow McLaren, I still wear his ring and initial on a necklace,” you blurt, knowing Lando isn’t going to judge too much.

“Oh. Wow, ok. Is it a nice ring?” Lando asks and you tug the chain, pulling it in front of your polo. “He has good taste. What were you talking about?” Lando pushes further as you tuck the chain behind your polo again.

“I’m going to San Antonio with him tonight and tomorrow,” you say, needing someone to confide in that isn’t your college friends.

“Does Logan know?” Lando asks and you shake you head.

“That’s the next step, once you are done asking questions,” you bump his shoulder lightly.

“No, like, does he know about your history with Pato,” Lando asks, glad Oscar isn’t around.

“No, I can never bring myself to tell him. I think we both know that we might not last past this season,” you admit. Logan and you had said as much to each other a couple weeks ago. He admitted that he isn’t sure where he sees it going after the season.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lando pauses, thinking about it.

“Don’t be, he knows that I had just gotten out of a serious relationship when we became friends and I know he isn’t ready for something long term yet. Obviously I’m still going to try to make things work, because I do love him, but I’m also going to take comfort in knowing that we tried,” you pull your backpack over your shoulders. Lando says a quick goodbye before you walk out to find Logan’s rental car where he is waiting.

“Hey sweetie,” he kisses you when you get in. Any tension in your body leaves when you see him.

“Hi, Lo, ready to get back to the hotel?” you ask as he backs out of the space.

“So ready, I just want cuddles and a nap,” Logan groans a little, you reach up and play with the ends of his hair as he drives. Despite you having a room from McLaren, you are staying with Logan in his room this race weekend.

“That sounds perfect,” you admire the way the sun makes his hair look lighter and his blue eyes clearer. You change while he takes a quick shower, tucking the necklace into a pocket in your backpack.

“Don’t go to San Antonio with Pato,” Logan says suddenly while you lay in bed with him.

“What?”

“Come with me back to Fort Lauderdale instead, please. I heard Pato tell Oscar that you were joining him, and I know your history with him even if you didn’t explicitly tell me. And I get it, it must be hard to bring up. I don’t want to lose you, I love you,” Logan whispers and you feel your gut twist as you are left with a choice.

Logan offers you a chance to start fresh and continue the new relationship you built, but Pato offers the chance to rekindle an old flame that never quite burnt out. How the hell are you going to choose.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #logan sargeant #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #lando norris #pato o’ward imagine #pato o’ward #pato o’ward x reader

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melodic-haze · 9 hours

Note

Personally how touched starved do you think Arlecchino and Furina are? Like one has been alone for 500 years and the other killed her best friend and probably doesn’t think she deserves love.

☆ — DEMO TRACK: Arlecchino x Reader, Furina x Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Oh I think they'd be VERY fucking touch starved, except the two are like. On two different sides of the scale

On one end, you've got Furina. On the other end, you've got Arlecchino. What they're on a scale of? How "vocal" they would be in terms of it

Furina would be on the VERY vocal side, and by that I mean she WILL monologue to you about how she needs your touch or else she will PERISH from a lack of you-contact

Furina puts the back of her hand on her forehead, "My beloved wants to leave me be! Oh, you torture me..."

"Babe, I'm literally only going to get a glass of water."

"You forget my domain over the element!" She moves to throw herself onto you, wrapping her arms around your neck and causing you to laugh as you caught her, "I can satisfy your needs easily!"

"At that rate I'll be better off taking a shower!"

"It gets the job done!"

But she's not vocal for no reason :((( 500 years spent in self-isolation in order to save her people takes a HUGE toll on you so the moment Furina had realised that she doesn't have to do the whole song and dance all over again, she just can't help the want—the need—to basically be attached to you

It's not just because she wants to make up for lost time after FINALLY being able to do so, but also because she's scared that one day it'll all just go poof and disappear in a distant dream. She doesn't speak of her troubles until either she decides it herself that she should or one of the members of her Salon Solitaire (Crabaletta lol) decides to conk her for it

Sometimes she'll ask if she's being a pain in the ass bc she IS aware that she's constantly wanting for you to at LEAST be near her which. If you say she is then I need to sit you down personally and slap you in NOT a fun way

Meanwhile, Arlecchino on the other hand, is VERY quiet about it. She won't say anything, nevermind doing anything. She'd restrict herself from clinging onto you as much as she'd like to

You were a vision to her, a lovely sight to see and a lovely voice to hear as you recounted your day's events. Even when you did something so mundane, something that isn't necessarily something special, Arlecchino still looked at you with such adoration.

She almost didn't notice her hand inching closer towards yours from her warm daze.

Almost.

Before she could draw it back unnoticed, however, you turned your head at just the right (or wrong) time.

"Arlecchino? Is there.. something wrong?"

..She shakes her head instead of admitting her desires, "No, my apologies, darling. I was rather captivated by your tale. Do tell me more about your friend's predicament."

And so you do, but you couldn't help but notice the longing look in her eyes.

It takes a while before she starts warming up to the idea of letting herself actually do SOMETHING. And that'll take a lot of time, patience and encouragement from her❗️❗️❗️ But trust when I say it's worth it bc she practically treats you with so much more affection and devotion than the literal archon she serves HAHA

She doesn't thinks she deserves to show physical affection, to touch you, to truly worship you and your body in every way she can—not when she has the power to hurt you, not when she's killed off the person she had cherished the most all those years ago :(

You gotta reassure her that everything's okay and that you won't disappear bc once you've done that? She's SO TOUCHY she will NOT go through the day without havign some form of contact with you

She won't do it as much in work though she has a reputation she wants to keep lmao

#hazy demos!#i tried making them equal i swear wtf 😭😭😭#arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino x reader #furina x reader #genshin furina x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin women #genshin women x reader #genshin women imagines

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bqstqnbruin · 2 days

Text

Forget About Us

Hello this is my first fic in like almost 6 months inspired by Forget About Us by Perrie Edwards

Thanks to my loves @nicohischier @assmanselke and @matthewtkachuk for yelling at me and letting me yell about this fic :)

Summary: Carson meets Jack, Jack falls for Carson, Carson does what she wants.

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, aNGST

Flashbacks are in italics. Also, I swear I read through this more than once but there might be errors unintentionally 😬

_________________________________________

Looking up into the stands, every game he plays in this city, he’s looking for her. He had been doing it for the past few years, always expecting to see her.

___________________________

“Can you stop pouting? We’re going to go out after the game,” Morgan begs.

“I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to be here or anywhere else besides my bed.”

Morgan rolls her eyes, sitting down in her seat. “Carson, you never go out.”

“Because I never want to go out,” she repeats. “I don’t have the money to go out.”

“The tickets were free from my job and I told you I would pay for your drinks tonight.”

“I don’t feel good,” Carson whines, knowing that it still wouldn’t be enough.

“You’re fine.”

“I’m on my period.”

“So am I, what’s your point?”

“Your period doesn’t make you double over in pain for three days.”

“This is the fourth day of your period when you have told me you always feel fine. And your period has been regular since you were fifteen when you went on birth control.”

“I don’t like that you know that.”

“Then maybe don’t tell me the same thing like a broken record every month?” Carson continues to pout, even though her friend is right. “Do you really not want to be here? We can leave after the first period if you really aren’t having fun. But, you do keep telling me you’ve been wanting to come to a game since we moved here.”

“No,” she drags out. “I just had a bad day at work.”

“What happened?”

The teams start coming out onto the ice for warm-ups, everyone booing the away team. It made no sense. They weren’t even actual rivals. The other team, from Carson’s understanding, was so inconsequential that they shouldn’t even matter. But who was she to argue?

“Anthony came by work today.”

“Anthony? Like Anthony, your ex, Anthony?”

“No, Anthony Michael Hall from The Breakfast Club.”

“What did he say?”

She and Morgan had this same conversation every week. “He wants to get back together.”

“And you told him, ‘no,’ right?”

“I’m grumpy, not stupid.”

Morgan sighs. Anthony kept showing up at the cafe Carson worked at between classes to ask for her back for the last month. He didn’t seem to care about the fact that they wanted wildly different things in their lives and that they weren’t going to work. Carson wanted to get her JD and leave New Jersey for good. She was tired of the debate over whether or not the central part of the state existed, if it was called Taylor Ham or Pork Roll, and which beach down the shore was the best. She wanted out as soon as possible, and Anthony wanted to stay here and settle down. He wanted someone who wanted to be at home with the kids, which Carson really didn’t want. The only way she could think about staying in New Jersey was if her partner wanted everything else she wanted. Whoever she ended up with had to be everything else to her. Anthony wasn’t it.

Morgan slowly forms a smile on her face, one that immediately makes Carson panic. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

“Who said I’m going to do something that you’ll hate?”

“Every past action that you’ve done without talking to me about it first says you’re going to do something I’m going to end up hating.”

Morgan rolls her eyes, pulling out her wallet and handing Carson her debit card. “Here, you go get us beer and pizza so that way you don’t have to see what I’m about to do.” Carson sits there, Morgan shoving the card into her hands. “Go.”

Both of them get up from their seats, Carson feeling a sense of panic as she watches her roommate go down to the ice while typing furiously on her phone. Carson tries to get back to their seats as fast as she can, worried about what antics she was about to be dragged into. She wanted to be home early that night so she could start studying for one of her exams that week. She did not have time to do whatever it was that Morgan was planning to do.

“Here,” Morgan hands her something as she sits back down, Carson still trying to figure out how to balance two overflowing drinks and two slices of pizza larger than her own head. “I got this for you.”

“You got me a puck?”

“Yes.”

“Ok?”

“You could say thank you.”

“Thank you for a piece of rubber that could probably break a bone if you get hit with it hard enough.”

“You’ll get the rest of what I got you tonight.”

“I swear to god,” Carson starts. “I’m not god, but I am close to a goddess.”

Carson groans, trying to focus on anything other than the terror that she was sure was about to come to her tonight. One of the players kept looking up at her, over his shoulder and seemingly ignoring his teammates. “What did you do?”

Morgan shrugs, nudging Carson’s shoulder as she waves at the player. “His name is Jack.”

“Just because I’m studying law, that doesn’t mean I’m above breaking at least one of them.”

“Yes, it does.”

The game starts, Carson’s eyes staying on the one player who had been watching her before. He gave her the vibes of someone who would end up naked and drunk in the hallway of her dorm in college, passed out and unsure of where his pants or keys were.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Morgan asks once the second period starts.

Carson doesn’t make a noise, just nodding. He was the exact type of mistake she would make on a night out when she needed to forget about something. “Why does he keep staring?”

“Probably for the same reason you’re staring at him even if you do look like you want to kill him.” Carson turns to glare at Morgan. “I’m just saying, you might be hot, but you also look like you could commit a felony right now.”

Carson sighs, waiting for the end of the game. She had no idea what was going on, but Morgan seemed to be into it at least.

Carson lets out a yawn as the fans start to file out of the arena, Morgan dragging her along behind her. “Can we please just go home?”

“No, I have a surprise for you.”

“Last time you had a surprise for me, I ended up needing three of my tires replaced.”

“And they gave you the fourth one for free, anyway,” Morgan grabs Carson’s hand, pulling her in the direction of some bar she wouldn’t remember the name of in the morning.

Carson knew that no matter how much she complained to Morgan, her friend would have something to counter every whine. They had lived together all four years of college before finally somehow scraping together enough money to each get their own places, despite the fact that they were still neighbors in their apartment building. Morgan, unfortunately, could get Carson to do anything she asked her to since she knew exactly how to make it so Carson wouldn’t say no. Most of the time, it involved physically dragging Carson places, like she was doing right now, but it always somehow worked.

“I’m paying for drinks,” Morgan tells her, dropping Carson’s hand as they two walk into the unreasonably crowded and slightly smelly bar.

“Yeah, like that was in question,” Carson tells her.

“You go sit down, I’ll find you.”

Morgan leaves Carson alone. The scene around her made her want to run away, except for the fact that Morgan could track her location and would not be above chasing her down the street and dragging her back to the bar. Everyone seemed like they were five drinks in, Carson feeling anxious about being what seemed to be the only sober person around.

“You ok?” a voice comes behind her, snapping her out of her potential spiral. She turns around, the guy from the game standing in front of her.

“This isn’t real,” she mutters, shaking her head. How the hell did Morgan manage this?

“What?” the guy asks, understandably confused.

“Sorry,” Carson says. “I mean, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I’m dehydrated.”

“Can I get you water, then?”

“No.”

“But, wouldn’t that help with the dehydration thing?”

Carson stares at him, dumbfounded. “I can get water myself,” she says, her tone a little harsher than she intended it to be.

“I’m Jack,” he introduces himself, not getting the message at all.

“That’s nice.”

“Do you have a name?”

“No, that spot on my birth certificate has been blank for the last twenty four years. Everyone calls me whatever nickname they can think of. The current one is ‘Maverick.’”

Jack opens his mouth to say something, Morgan appearing in between them before he can get a word in. “You actually came!”

“How could I pass up coming to meet someone as sweet as your friend here after the game?”

Carson barely knew him, but she already knew he would be a thorne in her side.

“She’s already been mean to you, hasn’t she?” Morgan laughs, finally handing Carson the drink she got for her.

“Hey,” Carson tries to protest, despite both of them ignoring her.

“It’s fine. It’s kinda hot,” he smirks, staring at Carson. She didn’t care that she couldn’t help but stare back, her cheeks bright red at his words.

___________________________

She always sat in the same general area, a few rows from the top of the section right behind their bench. It was easy to find her. How could he not at least try?

___________________________

“Why are you anxious?” Morgan asks, plopping down on Carson’s couch.

“Who said I was anxious?”

“You’re scrunchie.”

“What could that possibly mean?”

“You’re scrunching your brow so much and frowning so hard that you have wifi symbols showing on your face. You only do that when you’re anxious.”

“Please don’t say that to me ever again.” Carson lets out a sigh. She shouldn’t be anxious. She’s done things that were so much more difficult than this. She graduated with a 4.0 GPA in high school and college. She participated in every possible extra curricular that she could, and did so perfectly. She had her life scheduled down to the minute, when she would study, eat, have free time. She didn’t have time to be anxious. “Jack is supposed to be here any minute.”

Morgan lets out a squeal so high that Carson covers her ears. “You’re finally going on a date with him?”

“If you want to call it that.”

“Tell me everything,” Morgan says, plopping herself at Carson’s feet.

“No.”

“Carson,” Morgan whines.

“Morgan,” Carson counters. “I don’t even know where we’re going. From what it sounds like, it’s not even going to be just us, it’s something with the team.”

“He’s taking you to meet the rest of his team?” she yells.

“If you get that loud again, I’m throwing you out the window.”

“We both know your window doesn’t open far enough for me to get out of it, we’ve tried. Anyway,” Morgan continues, ignoring Carson’s annoyance, as usual. “That means something if he already wants you to know his teammates.”

“It means he already had plans with them when he asked me to go out with him and is dragging me somewhere I wasn’t otherwise invited.”

“You could be positive sometimes, you know.”

“There’s no fun in that.”

“Carse,” Morgan says, “He wouldn’t be inviting you if he didn’t like you. He wouldn’t have been texting you every waking moment that he could if he didn’t like you.”

“It’s kind of annoying.”

“That’s because you are a black hole personified and he’s the human equivalent of a dumb puppy.”

Carson scrunches her face while she looks at her friend. “That’s mean.”

“I’m trying to say that you two are different. And that’s ok. He’s more extroverted than you are. You’re still going to have fun because you’re going to be with him.” Carson looks at her, unsure. “If you’re not fine, I have your location and I will come join you guys, or come pick you up.”

“Why am I nervous?”

“Probably because this is the first guy you’re going out with that doesn’t look like a dead baby bird.”

“Sometimes, inside thoughts can stay inside.”

“My point,” Morgan starts, pulling Carson up to lead her out the door, “Is that he’s not your normal type and you don’t know what to do, so you’re panicking. But, again, you’ll be fine.”

Before Carson could say anything else, a knock came from the other side of her door. Morgan opens it, Jack standing there with his hands in his jeans pocket.

“Wow,” Morgan verbalizes what Carson was thinking as she tries not to ogle at Jack. His jeans fit him way more perfectly than she would have liked, the t-shirt he had on showing off his arms in a way that made her feel like she was actually about to start drooling. For fucks sake.

“I think Carson is supposed to say that,” Jack jokes, leaning against the door frame.

“Jesus Christ,” Carson groans, Morgan laughing as she pushes her way past Jack to head back to her place.

“Actually, they call me Jack.”

“If you keep this up all night, I’m not leaving this apartment.”

“Is this your way of asking me to come in?”

“Absolutely not. We’re going now to meet your friends or you’re going by yourself.”

Carson didn’t see Jack physically swoon at Carson as she walked past him, a stupid grin on his face as he watched her walk away from him.

___________________________

Morgan was sitting next to her, the two of them seeing less of each other now that they didn’t live with or next to each other anymore. Carson was laughing at something Morgan was telling her, the smile on her face reaching her eyes.

___________________________

“What are you doing right now?”

Carson groaned, knowing that any time Jack was asking her to do something lately, it was to pull her away from something she actually had to get done. “Studying.”

“When’s the test?”

“Next week.”

“Come out with me.”

“No.”

“I’m picking you up, I’m turning onto your street now.”

Jack hangs up before Carson can protest, her immediately texting Morgan to tell her she was being kidnapped.

‘You aren’t being kidnapped, you aren’t a kid.’

‘Kidnapping is anytime a person’s liberty is restrained by force and taken to another location.’

Before Morgan could text back, Jack was knocking at her door.

“I’m not going.”

“Come on. Half an hour?” he begs her. Carson glares at him. “I’ll buy ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Says that three cheese pizza you downed the other night.” Carson continues to glare at him. “Please? I’m leaving tomorrow for a week and a half. It’ll be the last time I can bother you until then.”

Carson rolls her eyes, shutting her textbook with her highlighter keeping her page like a bookmark. “I’m studying in the car.” Jack smiles at her, holding his hand out for her. Carson smirks, grabbing another book from her table and putting it in his hands instead.

Jack runs to follow her, his free hand on the small of her back, a smile on his face as she didn’t fight it. They get in his car, the windows down and the radio blasting as he peels away from where he was parked.

Jack starts talking, Carson not listening in the slightest as she continues to read the book in her lap, just like she promised.

“Wait, shut up,” Carson finally says, reaching over to turn up the music that was already loud. “I love this song.”

Jack laughs, glancing at her as he pulls up to a stop light. “Seriously? 1985 by Bowling for Soup?”

“My childhood best friend and I would listen to this song all the time growing up,” Carson explains,the smile on her face something Jack rarely got to see but loved every time. Jack’s smile mirrored hers as she started to sing along. He couldn’t help but laugh again as he listened to her. “What?”

“You are a horrible singer.”

“Yeah, because you would be better,” she snides, looking back at her book.

“Oh, of course I would be,” he says, starting to sing along with her.

Carson cackles, a sound Jack had never heard from her before. “You are just as bad as I am.”

___________________________

He thought of her whenever that song played, his heart beating faster every time the opening guitar riff played through whatever speaker he was near. He never purposefully listened to that song. The song never played in any of the arenas they played in, except for Rogers Arena, like it was now.

___________________________

“What do you mean, ‘we’re going out tonight?’” Carson groans.

“You just finished finals, Quinn is in town, and we’re heading down the shore for the weekend.”

“So I have to pack for a whole weekend?”

“Unless you plan on wearing the same thing for four days, I suggest you do,” Jack says, Morgan laying on Carson’s bed laughing.

“I wish you were helpful,” Carson says, throwing a shirt at Morgan. “I’m not here to be helpful, I’m here to be comic relief.”

“Then you should try being funny sometimes.”

Jack laughs, his phone buzzing with a call. “I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up and answering it out of Carson’s room.

Once he was out of earshot, Morgan sits up, a giddy look on her face that caused a pit to form in Carson’s stomach. “You’re going away with him for a weekend!” Carson grimaces. “You aren’t excited?”

Carson sighs, getting up to close her door so Jack can’t hear them. “I think he wants more from whatever this is than I do.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan whispers.

“I can’t see a relationship with him.”

“Carse, he’s perfect.”

“He kind of is. Which is why I don’t see it. Anthony was perfect.”

“No, Anthony was the human equivalent of a stale ham sandwich who, if brains were money, wouldn’t have been able to buy a cup of coffee.”

“Go eat something.”

“What?”

“Your metaphors turn food related when you’re hungry.”

“My point is,” Morgan says, getting up. “Anthony is not Jack. Don’t ruin something before it starts because of something that happened with someone else.” “Hey,” Jack says, startling both of them. “Sorry, Luke was asking if we were on his way to pick him up. Are we ready to head out?”

___________________________

He was so busy staring at her that he didn’t realize that Luke had skated up to his side.

“You didn’t know she’d be here?” Jack shakes his head. “Quinn doesn’t know you still love her?”

He shakes his head.

___________________________

Carson hated to admit it, but she was having a good time. She hated to admit that she needed to relax, especially after the intensity that she had when she was taking finals. They were sitting around a fire one of them had set up on the beach, the smell of smoke hitting Carson right in the face, the night air starting to chill around them. The guys were all laughing, their partners sitting in their laps as a few of them fell asleep.

“Where’s Quinn?” Luke leans over Carson to ask Jack.

“You have his location,” Carson says before Jack can answer. The brothers keep anticipating Quinn with every new person that shows up, their usually prompt brother still MIA.

“I don’t know where my phone is.”

“What’s that in your left hand, bud?”

“Right,” Luke draws out as Carson and Jack both laugh at him. “He’s supposed to be here any minute.”

Luke gets up to head back to the house for what he claims is to use the bathroom. “He hasn’t been drunk in a while. He gets dumber as he drinks,” Jack tells her.

Carson checks the can of beer he left behind. “Isn’t this his first drink of the night?”

“Yeah, why?”

“This can is still full.��

“He might just be dumb.”

“Bold of you to call someone else dumb,” an unfamiliar voice comes from behind their circle around the fire.

“I was just about to say that,” Carson says to the guy who must be Quinn, given how much he looks like his brother.

“God, I never realized there’s two of you,” Jack says to Quinn, the color draining from his face.

“I don’t think you’d survive with two of me,” Carson says, Jack mumbling something about going to the house for a minute as he gets up, a smile on his face anyway.

“So, you must be Carson?” Quinn asks her.

“What was your first clue?” she tries to flirt, taking a sip of her drink while maintaining eye contact with him. She knew that Jack was cute, but there was something different about Quinn. She and Jack were opposites. She and Quinn were the same.

___________________________

He still loved the way she looked in that old hoodie that she stole, the team logo faded and cut through, the number that was supposed to be the right side of her chest gone. He remembered when she stole that, the way her eyes lit up the first time he saw her in it as she told him she liked that she could wear it while he was traveling and he would still be with her.

___________________________

“Who’s picking up Carson?” Ellen yells up the stairs.

“I am,” Quinn and Jack both called at the same time, Jack’s mind running wild at the fact that his brother answered with him. Since meeting Quinn a few weeks ago, Carson had been mentioning him a lot more in their conversations. He shouldn’t be bothered by it. They never actually established that they were dating. Sure, they had hooked up, and sure, it was all Jack could think about since, but they were never dating.

He wasn’t Carson’s boyfriend.

“We both are,” Jack amends, running down the stairs when he hears Quinn do the same.

The brothers get in Quinn’s car, a smile across Quinn’s face while Jack can feel himself start to panic. “So, you’re excited to see Carson?”

“Yeah,” Quinn lets out. “I’ve missed Car.”

“Car?”

“That’s what I call her sometimes, yeah.”

“Doesn’t everyone else call her ‘Carse’ if they don’t call her Carson?”

Quinn laughs. “She said she likes when I call her ‘Car,’ instead.” Quinn keeps talking the rest of the way to the airport, both boys getting a text from her saying that she had just landed.

Neither boy had seen Carson in weeks, but it seemed like she had been talking to Quinn much more than she had been talking to Quinn.

Quinn pulls up to the airport, both boys getting out to go find the girl they wanted to see. Jack felt like he was racing Quinn to get to her first, Quinn having no idea what was going on in Jack’s head.

They get inside, both of them looking for her.

“Thanks for introducing us, by the way,” Quinn says, breaking the silence between them.

“What?”

“Me and Carson. When you told me I’d love her, I didn’t realize how right you’d be.”

Jack swallows, the pit in his stomach making him feel like he wanted to throw up. Quinn couldn’t love Carson the way Jack did.

The way Jack did?

Jack spots her first, shaking his head of the thought of loving her when he sees the Canucks sweatshirt with 43 on it hanging on her body. Jack looks at Quinn, Quinn’s favorite sweatshirt on the girl Jack wanted to be with.

Carson spots them, a smile on her face as she runs towards them, her suitcase clumsily trailing behind her. She lets go of her suitcase, it rolling towards Jack as she runs into Quinn’s arms, acting as if Jack wasn’t there to begin with.

___________________________

Morgan says one last thing to Carson, heading back towards the concessions, probably to get them drinks. Knowing Carson, she was out with Morgan on the condition that she didn’t have to pay for drinks. Jack couldn’t help but laugh to himself, Luke giving him a strange look while he stood there, lost in thought.

___________________________

Why would Carson want to be out right now?

She wouldn’t want to.

So why was she out right now at a bar that was way too loud, smelled incredibly bad, and was so crowded she could barely move a muscle without hitting another person?

Morgan.

Well, and Jack.

But, mostly Morgan.

“I hate you for this,” she yelled over whatever music was playing.

“No, you don’t,” Morgan and Jack say at the same time, both of them laughing despite Carson sending both of them a death stare.

“You haven’t been out of your apartment in, like, two months,” Jack says as Morgan walks away to get another drink

“We went to get coffee together four times this week,” Carson rebuttes, her phone in her hand lighting up with a text from Quinn.

She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his name, not paying attention to the clear awkwardness that Jack felt when he saw his own brother’s name on her phone. She loved texting him, talking with him every free minute the two of them had. She was falling for him, and she was falling for him fast.

Quinn loved that she was a lawyer, that she was passionate about helping people, he respected all of her decisions when it came to her uncertainty with her future. He made her laugh, he constantly made sure that she was ok and genuinely showed he cared about her.

He was everything he wanted in a guy, except that he was on the other side of the continent.

“What’s Vancouver like?” she asks Jack, again having to yell over the noise.

Jack shrugs, “It seems a lot like New Jersey, honestly. I’m never there long enough to find out.”

Could she see herself in Vancouver? She had looked into it, she just had to take another exam and be approved by their judicial system and she would be ok to practice law.

Quinn had officially asked her to be his girlfriend when she went to visit the boys a few weeks ago. She wasn’t sure if Jack knew yet.

“I’m going to get another drink, do you want anything?” she asks, elbowing her way back to the bar when he says he’s fine.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she hears from behind her once she orders her drink. She turns around, trying not to audibly groan.

“Anthony.”

“How are you Carse?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Do I need to give more?”

“Well, it’s a genuine question.”

“‘Fine’ is a genuine answer. What do you want, Anthony?”

“When can we get back together?”

Carson scoffs, the bartender handing her her drink that she was now tempted to throw in his face. “We’re not.”

“Come on, Carse,” he says, taking a step toward her, his hand trailing down her arm. “We had so much fun together. Why do we want to throw all that away?”

“I have a boyfriend, Anthony.”

“I don’t see him.”

Before Carson could answer, she feels Jack come up behind her, thankful that it was him and not some other stranger. “Babe, I told you, I was paying for drinks tonight.”

Carson looks up at him, turning toward him so Anthony couldn’t see her mouth a quick ‘thank you,’ to him. “I put it on your tab, don’t worry,” she turns back to Anthony, the smile on her face because of the stupid look on his face. “Anthony, meet my boyfriend, Jack.”

Anthony mumbles something, walking away before either of them could say anything else.

“I owe you,” Carson says once Anthony is far enough away neither of them could see him.

“Well, drinks are on me tonight,” he says, earning a laugh from her. “Nice job, lying about the boyfriend thing. Think we’ll have to keep it up until we leave?”

Carson laughs again. “I wasn’t lying about having a boyfriend.”

“What?” Jack asks, Carson not noticing the panic on his face.

“Quinn asked me to be his girlfriend.”

Before Jack can respond, Morgan runs over, squealing something about how their song was playing and that they just had to go dance. Carson quickly hands her drink to Jack, running off with her friend.

Jack downs the drink, ordering another.

His brother got the girl.

___________________________

He sees Carson waving to someone down on the ice, his heart racing in the worst way because he knew it wasn’t to him. Jack followed her gaze to Quinn, who was waving back at her, a smile on his face while he was on the ice when he was notorious for looking like he was having an existential crisis all the time. He should hate the guy who got to love the girl he wanted to be with. But how could he hate his brother?

___________________________

“You’re what?”

“I’m moving to Vancouver.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming, too.”

“No you aren’t.”

“I can’t live without you.”

“Morgan,” Carson whines, “You’re going to be fine.”

Morgan groans, rolling her eyes. “I’m being dramatic, let me mourn.” The girls laugh, Carson getting up to grab a drink. “So, you and Quinn are actually serious?”

“Yeah, I mean, we have to be if I’m willing to move across the continent and to another country.”

“Are you going to be able to practice law?”

Before Carson can answer, a knock at her doors follows with someone walking in.

“Are you a murderer?” Morgan yells to the stranger from Carson’s kitchen, prompting Carson to roll her eyes.

“Definitely,” Jack says, appearing in the doorway. “I got us dinner,” he says, holding up a bag. “What are we talking about?”

“If Carson can practice law or not.”

Jack laughs, setting down the food. “How did you manage to get disbarred already? You passed like three months ago.”

“I shot a man in Reno,” Carson deadpans. “I didn’t get disbarred. I’m just,” she hesitates, knowing that telling the two people who were her best friends was going to be the hardest. “I’m moving.”

Jack’s attention snaps to Carson, a look of panic on his face. “Where?”

“She’s moving in with Quinn.”

“You’re moving to Vancouver?”

“Yeah. Quinn asked me last week to move out there with him, and I told him yes today.”

Jack didn’t hear anything else while the three of them sat at Carson’s table and ate the food Jack brought. She would be able to practice law in Canada with a few more steps to get there, she would be living with Quinn.

She would be away from Jack.

She would never be with Jack.

___________________________

He could see the engagement ring on her finger from here, the sapphire in the middle catching the light in just the right way. His mother had their grandmother’s engagement ring, something much more simple, that had been intended for whichever boy wanted to give it to their future partner. Jack didn’t want to give it to anyone. He knew that their grandmother’s ring was picked for their grandmother. He wanted to give his person a ring meant for them. He wanted to give a ring he knew would suit her and would make her think of him whenever she looked at it. That’s why he and Quinn had helped the jeweler design it in the first place. It had to be made for her.

___________________________

Quinn had texted in the family group chat that the ring was ready and that he was picking it up from the jeweler that day after practice.

Everyone in the family congratulated him, his mom gushing about how excited she was to have a daughter, and how happy she was that it was Carson. His dad talked about how he was glad Quinn found someone who made him happy. Luke gave a thumbs up and texted in the group chat without their parents something stupid that Jack still hadn’t read yet.

Jack said nothing.

And he wasn’t sure anyone noticed.

Quinn and Carson were going to be engaged soon.

Jack didn’t know who to talk to, his finger hovering over Carson’s contact. He shouldn’t call her. He could call Morgan. But he knew Morgan was busy doing something with her job. He didn’t want to bother her.

He pressed it, turning on the speaker and pushing his phone away from him before he could hang up.

“Hello?” her name comes out of his speaker. He opens his mouth to say something, realizing he had no idea where to begin. “Jack, are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, dropped my phone,” he lied, lunging to grab it. “We haven’t talked in a while.”

Carson laughs, Jack’s insides jumping at the sound he hadn’t heard in a while. “Yeah, it has been a while.”

“How are things?” he asks, silently smacking his forehead at how stupid he sounded. He used to be able to talk to her with ease, having conversations that would go on for hours before either of them even found any silence between them.

Now he could barely talk to her, the sound of her voice something he wanted to hear so badly, something he missed more than he could actually put into words, and he didn’t know what to say so that he could listen to her.

“Things are actually really great,” she says. He could hear the smile on her face coming through the phone. “Quinn and I just work together, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeats to himself, trying to hide the pain he felt hearing that. “Have you and Quinn talked about…” he starts, his voice trailing off, the words catching in his throat knowing that Quinn could technically ask her at any moment.

“About what?”

“About you guys getting married?”

Carson stays quiet for a second, a smile on her face forming that broke Jack’s heart with every millimeter it grew. “Yeah, we have.”

“And?”

Carson’s cheeks turned red. “He hasn’t told me outright, but I think he’s proposing soon.”

Jack’s heart fully shattered, a fake smile on his face. “That’s great.”

“He hasn’t talked to you about it at all?”

“We, uh,” he starts, running his hand through his hair as he laid down on his bed. “We haven’t been able to get each other on the phone lately.” The two of them sat in silence, one of the first times neither of them knew what to say to each other. Conversation used to be so easy between them. “Don’t do it.”

“What?” Carson asks, Jack unsure if she didn’t hear him or thought she didn’t.

“Don’t get engaged to him.”

“Jack-”

“Carson, I still love you,” he blurts out, leaving Carson stunned. “Carson, please say something.” He wasn’t planning on telling her during this conversation. He wasn’t planning on telling her at all.

“Still?”

“I think I started falling for you the first minute I saw you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jack swallows, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “By the time I realized it, you were already falling in love with Quinn.”

“Jack.”

“How could I tell you I love you when I was watching you fall in love with my older brother?”

“Jack.”

“How am I supposed to sit here knowing that you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone who is perfect for you knowing that I was so close to being that person?” he says outloud.

“What do you want me to say?” she whispers.

“Tell me you won’t do it.”

Carson squeezes her eyes shut, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I can’t.”

“Carson.”

“Jack, I love Quinn. And he loves me. It has to go both ways. I can’t tell him ��no’ because you feel something for me that I never felt for you.” Jack says nothing, mostly because he doesn’t know what to say. “I have to go. Quinn will be home any minute.”

Carson hangs up, without saying another word, the front door opening as she whipped away her tears.

“Hey,” Quinn says, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “You ready to head out?”

“Uh, just give me a minute. I was talking to Jack and got distracted.”

“Yeah? How is he? I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

“He mentioned that,” Carson nods, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go grab my shoes.”

Quinn watches her walk away, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed for the night.

Phone, check.

Keys, check.

Wallet, check.

Engagement ring.

Check.

___________________________

Quinn skates over to his brothers, who were still standing next to each other. The crowd starts yelling, as they normally do when the three brothers are on the same ice at the same time. Luke and Jack greet Quinn, Jack trying to pretend like he wasn’t distracted.

“Hey, wait,” Quinn says when the two are about to skate away. Luke hangs back slightly, pretending not to listen. “Carson wants to get together after the game, all four of us.”

Jack looks at Luke. “Uh, we have a flight out tonight.”

“Luke said you guys are leaving until the morning.”

“It got changed,” Jack lies, making a mental note to turn off his location and hope he can convince Luke to do the same. “The weather’s supposed to be too bad to fly out in the morning.”

“Come on. It’s the last time we’ll be able to get together, just the four of us, before the wedding.”

___________________________

“Ready to go?” Luke asks, suitcase in hand as their boarding group gets called.

“No,” Jack mumbles.

Luke rolls his eyes, yanking Jack by the arm to pull him towards the plane. “What’s your problem with Carson?” Jack fastens his seatbelt, pretending not to hear his younger brother. “Dude.”

“I don’t have a problem with Carson.”

“Then why do you shut down and act like a prick any time we go see them, or anytime her name is mentioned?” Jack doesn’t say anything. “No, we have 6 hours on this plane, so either you are going to use that time to tell me why you have a problem with our future sister-in-law or I’m going to tell Quinn that I’m worried you’re going to Richard Ramirez her in her sleep.”

Jack looks at his brother with a look of horror. “What the fuck? I’m not the Night Stalker.”

“Talk,” Luke pokes his brother’s side.

“I liked Carson before she met Quinn.”

“You’re acting like this because you had a crush on her?”

“I’m acting like this because I fell in love with her and she never even thought of me that way.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Every interaction you’ve ever had with her now makes sense.”

“What?”

“Every time you talk to her, you have that look on your face like she was telling you she killed your first born.” Jack looks at him horrified, again. “Yeah, like that.”

“Stop watching CSI.”

“There’s so many seasons.”

Luke keeps talking about something while he doesn’t realize Jack is barely paying attention, interjecting with a generic confirmatory noise every once in a while until Jack finally pretends to go to sleep.

His brother eventually falls asleep instead, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts without his brother’s voice in his ear. He hadn’t seen or talked to Carson since the night she called him before Quinn had proposed. She went from a stranger, to someone he could see in his life forever, back to a stranger.

He couldn’t even talk to a girl anymore without thinking of Carson, how she compared to her, how her humor and deadpan delivery wasn’t the same as Carson’s, how she didn’t look like Carson or walk like Carson. He was in love with his brother’s fiance, on his way to their engagement party.

___________________________

Jack barely processed what happened during the game. He made the plays he had to, passed the puck when he needed to, but his mind was empty.

After the game, Luke comes up to him once they're both dressed. “Ready for this?”

“No.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

They wait for Quinn outside, the adrenaline coursing through him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t sure he could face her, even after all this time.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, the voice he once loved now sending panic through him.

“Hi.”

___________________________

“Alright, you’ve got to get it together,” Luke says as they get out of the car that brought them to the venue. Their parents were already inside, Carson and Quinn definitely inside.

“I’ll be fine,” he lies, a gift in shaking hand as he opens the door with the other to let Luke go first. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to go in and face Carson for the first time since their phone call the night they ended up getting engaged. “I’ll be fine.”

The party was set up in a way that made exact sense for Carson, it was classy and elegant, while still having shades of Quinn’s chaos thrown in here and there. He didn’t know exactly why it made sense for them, but it did.

Because they made sense.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, causing him to jump. Carson stands behind him, a short white dress fitting her perfectly in a way that made his heart race. He knew there was a reason to wear a black shirt, and it was to hide the sweat that he felt coming on just being around her. “How are you?”

“Good,” he says, holding out the gift. “This is from us.”

“Us?”

“Um,” he shakes his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “Me and Luke. You didn’t expect him to pick something out on his own, did you?’

“No, not at all.”

They stand in silence, neither of them knowing what to do. “You look good,” he says, probably one of the first opinions he shared that actually had some semblance of truth to it.

“Thanks, you do, too. How are things?”

“Things are good,” he says, trying not to cringe at how awkward this whole thing felt. He shouldn't have come, but how was he going to say no to the girl he loved and his own brother? “I’m seeing someone, actually,” he hears himself say, surprised by the lie he didn’t know was coming.

“Really?” her eyes light up. “Jack, that’s great. Quinn didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s still new. I haven’t really said anything about it to Quinn yet. I don’t want to jinx it, you know?”

“I get it,” she nods, a smile still lighting up her face. “I’m so happy for you.”

She pulls him in for a hug, Jack keeping one of his hands in his pants pocket. He knew himself too well; if he hugged her too tight, he wouldn’t want to let go.

He hated how corny and stupid he felt. She is his older brother's fiance. He had to forget about her in that way.

“Hey,” Quinn joins them, pulling Jack in for a hug. “Sorry to interrupt, but Car, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Go, go, I need to find my way to a drink anyway,” Jack waves them off.

Carson takes Quinn’s hand, turning to be led off somewhere by Quinn. She turns over her shoulder, smiling at Jack, as he watched the two of them walk off. She turns away, Jack staring up at the ceiling, not wanting to watch her walk away.

___________________________

The four of them get to a restaurant Quinn had taken his brothers to before, despite the fact that Jack couldn’t remember the name for the life of him.

Jack sets his phone on the table, the rest of them doing the same.

As they order, Jack’s phone lights up with a text from Morgan: ‘When do you come home? I miss you.’

#Jack Hughes #Quinn Hughes #Luke Hughes #New Jersey Devils #Devils #Vancouver Canucks #Canucks #Jack Hughes fic #Jack Hughes x OC #Quinn Hughes fic #Quinn Hughes x OC

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