#Dies in each other's arms at the speed of light

[waywardblackkitty]

Jensen and Misha reuniting on The Boys be like :

[luvsupa]

“WHATT? NEVER SEEN A GHOSTT..”

summary: next time be respectful for gojo’s memorial. . .

tags: ghost!gojo x fem!reader, smut, threesome (ig ..?), use of clone techniques, jjk spoilers, mean gojo, ōral sex (f!recieving), size difference,belly bulging, full nelson, degrading, dumbification, etc, mdni.

w.c: 4k . . .

a/n: GUYSSS WE GOIN UPPP ☝🏽 TYY FOR 1,7K MWAAAAA

+ sorry for the errors

kinktober masterlist

the halloween theme park buzzes with screams from rollercoasters and actors in horror costumes that look almost too real. you walk arm in arm with your friends, all of you decked out in matching monster high costumes. at first, you weren’t into it, but after enough pestering, you caved and ordered clawdeen’s full outfit.

the crowd can’t stop complimenting the four of you. from the boots to the hair, everything is spot-on. but gosh these platform boots are killing you. you can already feel tomorrow’s regret setting in.

“ooo, let’s try this ride before we leave,” one of your friends says through the fake fangs she’s wearing as draculaura. you all turn your heads to see what she’s pointing at. a sign reads infinity maze, with eerie, glowing blue eyes blinking on and off. it’s famous, mostly because the guy who designed it—gojo satoru—died a few years ago, turning it into some kind of attraction with ghost stories attached.

you scoff. people are suchwimps.

as you approach, you’re grateful for your speed passes because the line is insane. “okay, how about we make a bet?” your cleo-dressed friend suggests. “slowest time pays for dinner.”

you grin at the challenge, nodding along with everyone else.

as you wait, something catches your eye—a giant memorial statue of gojo satoru, standing tall near the maze entrance. his cocky grin is frozen in stone, and beneath it, the descriptiom reads,

in loving memory of satoru gojo. forever lovable and the strongest.

you roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “who gives a fuck about him?” you say, loud enough for your friends to hear. they giggle, and you continue, “seriously, they’re doing the most with this memorial. it’s not that deep.”

one of your friends shakes her head, trying not to laugh too hard. “it’s haunted, remember?” she says mockingly, to which you just snicker.

“haunted, my ass.”

your first friend goes into the maze, and you start timing her on your phone. almost three minutes later, she comes out breathless, claiming the only scary part was a worker grabbing her ankle at the end.

next up are the others, who all manage to escape in under two minutes. the pressure’s on now, but you refuse to be the one paying for dinner. with a quick glance at your friends, you flash your speed pass to the coordinator, ready to sprint through this lame maze and leave them all in the dust.

your platform boots thud heavily against the creaking wooden floor, each step echoing in the suffocating silence. the door slams shut behind you with a sharp clack, sealing you inside. a deep breath fills your lungs, but the air feels heavy, thick. the faint glow of flickering lights ahead barely cuts through the darkness, revealing the first room—a classroom?

it’s an old, japanese-style classroom, but something feels off. chairs are scattered across the floor like a struggle took place, and bloody handprints—too real for comfort—smear the walls. your heart races as a sudden crack of thunder rips through the air, making the weak lights above you flicker wildly. it feels like you’ve been transported, as if this isn’t a theme park anymore... like you’re somewhere else, somewhere you shouldn’t be.

you inch forward, boots sinking into the floorboards with each loud creakk. you can’t shake the feeling that the room is watching you. the chalkboard looms at the front, with jagged, uneven writing smeared across it

look behind you

your stomach twists. your mind fights to stay rational—it’s just part of the maze, it’s not real. but your hands are trembling as you slowly turn. nothing. just scattered desks and the harsh, stuttering light overhead. thunder crashes again, timed too perfectly. 

your heart rate slows a bit, but you mutter under your breath, stupid maze, trying to shake off the unease as you head toward the next door. the sign above it reads, hall of mirrors,

the knob feels cold in your hand as you twist it, stepping into the next room. pitch-black darkness swallows you whole, except for the mirrors that tower from floor to ceiling. hundreds of them, endless reflections stretching out in every direction. your eyes adjust to the faint, flickering light—just enough to see yourself, but not much else.

“fuck,” you whisper, hating mirror mazes with a passion. you move cautiously, knowing you’ll bump into a dead end at some point. your reflection multiplies with every turn, making it feel like you’re being watched from all angles. you stop in front of one mirror, catching your breath, and take a moment to adjust your costume.

you smooth down the sheer purple mini skirt, making sure your wolf ears are straight on your head. you shift slightly, checking out your ass in the reflection, appreciating how well the outfit hugs your body. you’re about to laugh at yourself when your eyes catch something—a shadow

a figure. behind you. 

your breath stops cold. your friends hadn’t mentioned anyone being in here with you. you freeze, heart pounding as you stare into the reflection, too terrified to turn around.

“o-oh um, did I come in the room too early?” you stammer, your voice barely steady, assuming he’s the worker who grabbed your friend’s foot earlier. you swallow hard, trying to make sense of the tension creeping up your spine. the lights flicker again, casting shadows that stretch too long. your eyes twitch as you stare into the mirror—he’s still there, standing so still it sends a chill down your spine.

the lights flicker again, plunging the room into darkness. your pulse races. you can feel his presence behind you, closer now, even though you haven’t turned around. every hair on your body stands on end, anticipation mingling with fear. when the lights finally come back, your breath catches in your throat.

gojo satoru.

he stands right behind you, towering over your smaller frame, his eyes glowing like cold fire through the mirror. his presence is overwhelming, suffocating, andelectrifying. his ocean-blue gaze locks onto yours through the reflection, freezing you in place. you can’t move, can’t breathe, as his lips curl into a slow, dark smile.

“nahhh, you came at a good time,” he drags out, voice low, rough, as it echoes through the room. the sound of it, mixed with the flickering lights, makes your knees weak. he steps closer, his icy fingers brushing the hem of your skirt, sending a shiver down your spine. your breath hitches as you feel his touch, subtle yet possessive.

“and who are you supposed to be?” his voice is condescending, almost mocking, as his hand continues to toy with the fabric, lifting it just slightly. the way he says it makes your heart race faster, your skin prickling with a mixture of fear and something else—something darker.

you glance up, meeting his gaze in the mirror, tears forming in your eyes. this can’t be real. his white hair falls messily around his face, his long lashes shadowing those dangerously beautiful eyes.

“h-how? y-you’re dead,” you blurt out, ignoring his question as panic takes over. but his chuckle���low, dark—vibrates against the back of your neck, making you shudder. you’re trapped between the mirror and him, his breath warm and taunting against your skin.

“that i am,” he murmurs, his lips so close to your ear, “but you know what they say… energy never dies. you brought me here.” his words wrap around you, suffocating, intoxicating. your mind spins, trying to comprehend. you brought him here? how could you possibly—?

“h-how?” your voice is barely a whisper, trembling as you try to make sense of his words. it feels like the room is shrinking, like the walls are closing in, the air too thick to breathe.

“don’t play dumb now,” he chides, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. the heat of his palm sends sparks through your body. you shouldn’t want this, but the way his fingers tease your skin, the slow drag of his hand, has you clenching your thighs together.

suddenly, it hits you. images of you mocking his memorial, laughing at his statue, flashing through your mind. his low chuckle tells you he knows exactly what you’re remembering.

“i-i didn’t mean-”

“didn’t mean it? nahh, pretty, you fuckin’ meant it.” his plush lips press against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that make your knees weak. fuck, you shouldn’t be getting turned on by this, by a ghost. yet, your body betrays you, burning up under his touch.

he leans into you, his teeth grazing your exposed skin, making you flinch. fangs? you tremble as he brushes his fingers under your chin, lifting your face so your wide, glossy eyes meet his through the mirror.

“all that nasty energy you have within you… mmm, that’s why.” his voice drops as he nibbles on your earlobe, tugging lightly on your hoop earrings, making you wince.

“‘m sorry, j-just don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything,” you stammer, your voice shaky as his grip on your chin tightens. his movements still, and the way he smirks behind you makes your heart sink. you’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable—like you just handed him your dignity on a silver platter.

without a word, he pushes your back down, forcing you to brace yourself against the mirror, your fingertips smudging the glass as you struggle to keep steady. glancing to another mirror, you see him crouching down, eyeing your clothed cunt with dangerous curiosity.

“anything, she says”, gojo quietly says, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you arch your back just right for him. his eyes darken when he notices how soaked your panties are, the fabric clinging to your folds, sucked in by the wet heat between your thighs. of course, the lights choose now not to flicker—how fucking embarrassing.

with a quick, rough tug, gojo hooks his finger into your panties, pulling them side to side, watching how your chubby folds swallow the fabric before yanking them aside, fully exposing your dripping cunt. you clench hard at the sudden cool breeze against your exposed skin, and he pauses, mesmerized.

“you like this, huh? getting off to a dead man… ohh, you’re disgusting,” he mocks, his voice low and sinister.

“‘m going to make sure you live your dirty fantasies,” he growls, his tone laced with intent.

and he really is.

gojo has been diving into your cunt for what felt like hours, his impossibly slimy tongue lapping up your juices as your gummy walls snugly embrace him. your hands grip the sides of the mirror for dear life, feeling him reach the deepest parts of you. you’re moaning like a bitch in heat, your desperation rising as his spare hand mercilessly toys with your clit, not in cute circles, but pinching and pulling on your sensitive nub with no mercy whatsoever.

your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably as he pushes you to your third orgasm, broken moans escaping your glossed lips. your pussy slowly feels numb, overwhelmed by how hungrily he’s eating you out. do they not feed him in his world?

“ngh—‘toru, it’s too m-much,” you hiccup, and he growls behind you, the sound vibrating through your body. at this point, you’ve completely forgotten about your friends, about the stupid bet—you’re lost in the most toe-curling head of your life.

your stomach churns unexpectedly as you cum again, your brain so fuzzy that you can’t even comprehend it. he loudly slurps up your mess, not wasting a single drop as he licks you clean, your cunt twitching around his tongue. when he pulls his tongue from your gaping hole, your swollen folds throb in response as he grins at your state.

“heh, look at you—just a slut for a ghost!” he taunts, now standing behind you, grinding his achy bulge against your exposed cunt. his eyes never leave your face in the mirror.

“let’s see how much dick she can take,” he mutters to himself, cupping your pussy, clearly addressing her rather than you. as you catch onto his words, a wave of confusion and excitement hits you. how much? there’s more than one?

before you can process anything, you blink once and find yourself in the most insane position you’ve ever been in—full nelson. gojo has you completely at his mercy, holding your legs high above your head with a firm grip, locking you in place like a ragdoll. your tall platform boots dangle helplessly in the air, the sensation thrilling and humiliating as you stare at your reflection in the endless mirrors surrounding you. your stomach twists at the sheer size difference between your body and his, your eyes widening as you see your slick, swollen cunt clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

your miniskirt is now so short that it’s bunched up around your waist, exposing more skin than you’d ever intended. your eyes drop lower, and you gulp as you take in the sight of his cock, standing proudly upright. the base is a tan colour, thick and powerful, with mean veins decorating the sides that pulse with each heartbeat. the bulbous tip is a deep pink, glistening with droplets of cum that catch the dim light.

with one hand firmly securing your legs, gojo uses his other to tease you, rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds, the sensation sending electric jolts through your body. you bite your lip at the girth of his shaft, feeling a mix of excitement and horror. he’s definitely bigger than all your previous exes, and with every second you spend in this position, he brings undeniable shame onto them.

“can you handle it, baby?” he taunts, his voice dripping with condescension as he revels in your predicament.

“yes, I can-”

without lettint you finish, he thrusts into you, burying himself deep within your slick warmth. the suddenness takes your breath away, and you let out a gasp as he fills you completely. his girth stretches you in a way you’ve never experienced before, almost burning as your gummy walls clench around him, trying to accommodate his size. each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, a delicious blend of pain and ecstasy as you realize you can only take it.

gojo holds you firmly in place, using this ruthless position to keep you utterly at his mercy, revelling in your helplessness. with each powerful thrust, he drives deeper, hitting spots inside you that make your vision blur and your legs tremble. you can’t escape, all you can do is take what he gives you, your body completely surrendered to the pleasure.

“look at you, taking it so well,” he growls, a wicked grin stretching across his face as he watches your reflection in the mirror. your moans fill the room, echoing off the glass, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. the sweat glistens on his body, making his white hair stick to his forehead, adding to the rawness of the moment. “you’re nothing but a greedy little slut, aren’t you?”

you can only whimper in response, your head spinning as his relentless rhythm pushes you closer to the edge. your thighs shake uncontrollably as he hits that sweet spot, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust. you’ve completely forgotten everything but the way he stretches you out, your body fitting around him perfectly as if you were made for him.

as gojo thrusts into you relentlessly, your collar jingles with every powerful movement, a stark reminder of your current position. each chime echoes in the room, amplifying your vulnerability as he drinks in the sight of your pretty, disheveled form. he watches how your eyes flutter in bliss, how your lips part with each thrust, and how your reflection reflects the pure ecstasy etched across your face.

“what happened to all that toughness?” he sneers, his breath hot against your ear as he quickens his pace. “wanna tell me how stupid this is?” his laughter reverberates through the air, as he reminds you of your sly comment.

the humiliation of his words ignites a flame deep within you, and despite the embarrassment, your body craves more. your jewelry clinks and jingles as he pounds up into you, each sound mingling with the echoes of your moans. the sensation is overwhelming, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your mind hazy as pleasure clouds your thoughts.

as you struggle to keep your eyes open, the world around you blurs and spins. you can’t tell if it’s the overwhelming pleasure or the way he’s wrecking you, but you swear you see multiple gojos swarming around the two of you in the mirrors. they grin wickedly, each one reflecting the same smug confidence, but you’re too lost in ecstasy to process it completely.

am I seeing things? you wonder,

your mind foggy from the pleasure coursing through your body. each thrust sends you spiral deeper into submission, heat pooling in your core, ready to explode.

then, without warning, you feel another hand, another gojo, playing with your pussy. your eyes shoot open, panic flooding your senses as you choke back a gasp.

he can clone himself!

your body responds eagerly to the dual sensations, the original gojo still jack hammerinh relentlessly inside you while his clone teasingly rubs your clit, heightening your pleasure to unimaginable heights. as if sensing your need, the clone moves closer, rubbing his chubby tip along your widened folds. you scream internally, panic flashing through your mind as he presses against you, the overwhelming stretch igniting both fear and pleasure.

there’s no fucking way.

the clone pushes in slowly, stretching you beyond your limits, sending shockwaves through your body. you cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain, tears brimming in your eyes. he’s moulding himself deep within your walls as you feel every inch of your velvety walls being re-designed for him.

the original gojo leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “c’mon, big baaaad wolf, can you handle both of us?” he taunts the nickname referring to your costume, as his thrusts becoming more forceful as the clone fills you. “i thought you were a big girl.”

you can only moan in response, the sound mingling with the jingle of your jewelry as they continue to drive you wild. the mirrors reflect your state—multiple gojos swarming around you, each one more enticing than the last. their mocking smiles deepen your humiliation, but the pleasure they bring you makes it impossible to care. both their cock heads rushing as if it were a race to reach your cervix as you squeak at the brutal thrusts.

“look at you, a pathetic mess,” the original gojo mocks, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as you squirm between them. your gaze lazily drifts to the your tummy where a large bulge forming beneath your costume, moans escaping your lips at the sight. “you love being filled up like this, don’t you? who’s the stupid one now?”

your body betrays you, your pussy clenching around both of them as they thrust in sync, stretching you to your limits. the lewd squelches and sloshes of your dripping cunt fill the air, drowning out all coherent thoughts. each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, the overwhelming sensations causing your mind to spiral into oblivion.

the clone suddenly flicks your head, thr pain forcing you to look at him, and you feel a rush of clarity amidst the haze. “stay with us, pretty,” he demands, his tone both condescending and sultry. 

“we- hgnn -want to see that face you make when you fall apart.” you shudder at the sound of his voice, the way it sends waves of heat coursing through your body.

“mmf—i can’t. . . ’s too much,” you babble, your voice rising higher as the clone continues to push into you, the overwhelming sensation of fullness sending shockwaves through your body. pleasure and pain blur together, and you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

“ohhh, but you can,” the original gojo growls, thrusting harder, your body shaking as you sob loudly, the sounds echoing off the mirrors as your achy walls clenching around his thick shafts.

every angle captures your struggle—your skin glistening with sweat, your costume soaked and clinging to your curves, and the way you’re trapped between two versions of the man you crave. the reflections amplify the chaos, a never-ending loop of desire and degradation as you’re thrust deeper into submission.

“what about your friends?” the clone taunts, a wicked smirk plastered across his face. “what will they think when they find you like this?” the thought sends a wave of humiliation crashing over you, but the pleasure is relentless, drowning out any semblance of reality.

“anddd what about that bet you had?” the original gojo continues from behind, his voice dripping with mockery. “i bet they wouldn’t believe how much you enjoy being filled up by us.” you nod at his words, sniffles escaping your nostrils as fat globs of tears streak down your cheeks, your makeup a ruined mess.

they’re so deep inside you that it feels like they’re going to split you in half. each thrust stretches you to your limits, their relentless rhythm pushing you closer to the brink.

you swear you feel him in your chest.

“please… i need to—” you gasp, your body trembling as the clone toys with your clit, electric jolts of pleasure coursing through you. your senses blur, and all you can feel is the overwhelming fullness and the pleasure spirall out of control.

“let go, pretty,” the clone whispers, fingers dancing over your sensitive bud. “show us how much you want it.”

with one final thrust from the original gojo, the heat builds to an explosive climax. you feel your body tighten around them, walls pulsing as a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you.

“fuckk!” you scream, body convulsing as you squirt, release gushing out of you and mixing with his cum. gojo’s thick cum shoots deep inside as he paints your gummy walls a pretty milky white, creating an intense mess that ends up coats your inner thighs. the overwhelming sensation sends you spiraling into a realm of ecstasy, every nerve ending igniting as you succumb to the bliss.

“what a sight,” the original gojo grunts, breath heavy with satisfaction. you’re lost in the aftermath, body shaking as you ride the waves of pleasure, mind fogged with overwhelming satisfaction and disbelief at the chaos that has consumed you.

as you try to come back from your intense orgasm, the clone pulls back and disappears. when gojo finally slides out of your cunt, a waterfall of cum oozes from you, thick globs spilling forth—it’s utterly inhumane. gojo carefully places your wobbly legs, which had been in the air for what felt like hours, back on the ground as you collapse, the numbness too much to bear.

the mess cascades down your gaping hole, sticky and warm, creating a thick pool beneath you. you can’t help but feel utterly exposed, the evidence of their domination staining your costume and making you acutely aware of how thoroughly you’ve been filled.

the sight is almost too much to bear, the way your body quakes with the remnants of pleasure while the glistening fluid slowly drips, accentuating the chaos you’ve just experienced. you feel humiliated yet impossibly aroused, the reflections in the mirrors surrounding you amplifying your vulnerability as he stands, watching you tremble.

“c’mon, baby, your friends have been waiting,” he coos, picking you up bridal style as you mumble nonsense, your brain so fucked that you can barely string a thought together. he strides through the mirror maze and into the last room, steadying you onto the ground for you to exit on your own.

he fixes your hair and outfit, quickly pecking your lips before opening the door and giving you a final push. you stumble out, the cool breeze hitting you like a splash of cold water, bringing you back to reality.

“girl, what the hell took you so long?” your friends shout as you try to steady your wobbly legs. one of them shoves her phone in your face, and your jaw drops.

50 fucking minutes.

“t-the worker was—”

“t-the worker- shut up. now you’re buying us food.” one of them mocks, handing you your belongings while they stare you up and down, taking in how badly you’re shaking and your frizzy hair.

“jeez did a demon fuck you? you look like you got meannn dick in there,” she jokes, and everyone bursts into laughter, including you. they have no idea what you’ve just been through, but you can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

[pineconepie]

Hello! i was wondering if you could do serial killer/slasher yandere parent? Dont know if thats too dark tho 😅

Here it is!! I've gotten a few requests like this, and since a lot of people also want to see more willing readers, I added a little of that to the mix!

TW: Implied/attempted murder, loss of child, implied assault/creeps toward reader (not the yandad), parental yandere, light forced infantilization, violence, reader implied to kind of has issues of their own

You know it wasn't a good idea to walk home alone, especially in this hour of the night, and double-especially when there had already been six murders around the same general area you live in, all clearly by the same person.

But, your phone had died, you couldn't get an Uber, and there wasn't really anybody you could call to come pick you up, even if your phone was working properly.

So, you decide that walking home will have to work tonight.

That probably wasn't the best choice you've ever made.

When you're halfway to your house, you hear a slight rustling around behind you. You spin around, hoping to catch whatever (or whoever) was following you in the act of making the sound. There's nothing there.

Shaking your head, you continue to walk down the street, subconsciously walking faster.

It must be that murder case that's been hanging over everyone's heads lately that's getting you nervous like this, right?

Wrong.

When you start speed-walking, the same noise as before starts up again, but it sounds closer than last time. You don't have much time before someone tries tackling you.

In the corner of your eye, you see a gun pulled out from under their trench coat. Quickly reaching out for the murderer's arm, you grab it, and try to stop them from aiming at you.

You shove them away and run in the only direction you can without getting tackled; the alleyway.

Seeing there's no time to hide, and all the hiding spots are obvious anyway, you succumb to a panic attack and crouch down onto the ground with your head in your knees.

You take out what money you have and chuck it in his direction. "Please, just take my money and leave me alone! That's all I have! If you want my phone too, just take it!"

The man almost cackles. "I don't need any money," he states matter-of-factly. You can hear the grin in his voice. He walks slowly towards you as if to intimidate you more, though it does little to affect your mindset more than it already has. He's still holding the gun. "Don't take it personally. It's nothing against you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

At this point, you've fully come to terms with your demise, which is clear to the other party.

You look up at him with puffy eyes from sobbing, and tears and snot running down your face. Most of his face is covered, but you can see his eyes.

And much to your surprise, you see them widen.

A few seconds go by, and now you're afraid to break eye contact. You watch as the man before you put his gun back in its holster inside of his trench coat and curse under his breath while looking away.

He clears his throat after a few more dramatic seconds go by. "Go home, kid." You stand up on shaky legs. "Grab your stuff first, then get outta here. I won't chase ya."

Hesitant, you do so anyway, because who would refuse such an offer?

Grabbing your money, you stuff it in your pockets and wipe your face. As soon as you're ready to go, you dash past the stranger, not wanting to spend another minute around the killer.

...

After that incident, you feel as if you're being watched.

Well, obviously you'd think so; you were just almost murdered.

But, when you're going to anywhere, you can feel eyes staring at you wherever you go.

A car with tinted windows follows each time. It isn't unique by any means, just a black Mitsubishi.

But still, it's there. Every time you leave your house, the same vehicle parks near you until you return to your home. Sometimes you try going on wild goose chases to catch the bastard following you off guard, but when you make your way back, it'll be parked somewhere near your driveway.

For almost two months this becomes a cycle, and it especially starts becoming concerning whenever you get sick, or have a bad day, there's always a basket of goodies on your porch steps the next day.

You don't eat them, and instead just throw them away, but it's clear none of them have been tampered with. The most disturbing part about it all is they have your favorites—your favorite animals now into plushies, your favorite snacks and candies, and other such things.

Is this his way of just messing with you until he inevitably comes to finish the job?

One night, when you're walking home from work, you notice the same vehicle tailing you from your workplace to your house. You walk with speed and reach your porch step, where the driver can see you enter your house, and they pull out, as if reassured you're safe.

Maybe they're trying to make sure you aren't hurt in any way?

Another night, one late, you stay out longer than you should, and much like any other time, you're followed once again.

Unlike normal though, there are three men whistling at you, taunting you. You ignore them as best as you can, walking faster and keeping your head down in hopes you won't seem interesting. Your wishes are not fulfilled.

Your arm is tugged harshly backward, pulling you onto the sidewalk with brute force.

The three guys look at you hungrily. "Where are you going this late at night?" the obvious leader speaks up, a greasy, slimy grin on his face, only worsening when he sees how fearful you've become.

"I...I'm going home."

One of them tries grabbing you, and against your better judgment, you take off in an attempt to escape, though you aren't fast enough to avoid your jacket being grabbed.

In your panic, you somehow end up wriggling yourself away and onto the ground. You try to get up, but one of them holds their foot on your back, pushing you back onto the asphalt.

But, oh-so-conveniently, you can hear a vehicle door open and slam shut, and then the pounding of boots against concrete.

The foot on your back lets up, because the guy goes tumbling backwards onto his back.

Now free, you sit yourself up quickly, rubbing the back of your head, which had hit the sidewalk. You blink the blurriness away, to see the man—the same one who nearly killed you and has been following you—hovering over the main creep.

"Hey, what the hell is your problem?!" said creep yells. He tries standing up, but the killer stomps on his ankle.

A crunch resounds through the air, accompanied by a sharp scream. The other two guys stand frozen, watching in horror.

"Get your little buddy and get outta here," he warns the other two, finally backing away. He has a gun pointed at them threateningly, as to tell them not to try anything else.

They quickly help their leader up and hobble away in fear.

You want to yell at this man, to demand answers or run, but you can't. "Thank you, sir..." you whisper.

Now you can get a good look at him. He looks to be somewhere in his forties, maybe even fifties, and has graying brown hair, along with gray eyes.

There's a scar along his cheekbone that adds a rugged charm to him. He smells like expensive cologne and coffee beans. If he didn't try killing you not too long ago, you might've really put your trust into him, he seems like just a grumpy dad.

"Are you alright?" His voice sounds oddly soft, as if genuinely concerned for your health. He reaches toward you, and you close your eyes, readying yourself to be hurt, but he only examines a bruise forming on your forehead. "Thought you learnt your lesson last time about stayin' out late at night."

"I don't think it'd matter either way. You know where I live, I've seen your car," you mutter. You don't look him in the eyes, hoping to avoid seeing any possible rage held within them. He doesn't say anything after that, so you continue. "Why are you doing this?"

A rough hand grabs yours, lifting you to your feet. "Do what? Save ya from gettin' jumped?"

"No! That's part of it, sure, but the gifts, and protecting me, and—and...you were just gonna kill me all those months ago!"

He sighs. "Yeah, 'were'. Not 'are'. I decided I ain't gonna anymore."

"But why?" you repeat, glaring daggers at the older man.

"I usually go after bad people. I mistook you for someone else, and then when you looked up at me like you did," he says while shifting his stance to a more firm position, "'all scared and hopeless and pathetic and—" he pauses suddenly, shaking his head to recollect himself. "Look, I saw my kid in you."

"You have a kid?"

"Had. Had a kid."

You almost want to apologize for the loss of his kid, when you remember the fact he's literally a serial killer. "And that's why you decided to stalk me for the past two months and give me baskets full of stuff?"

"We both know for a fact you hardly take care of yourself well enough. You're clumsy as shit, always irresponsible, you eat terribly..."

"I'm not being scolded how I live my life by a serial killer!" you interject. "Who even are you, anyway?"

"Dante," he answers.

"And I figure you already know everything about me?" It's less of a question and more of a statement at this point.

He chuckles. "If I didn't, would you still introduce yourself to me?" When he gets no answer from you, he smiles lopsidedly. "Get in the car, I'll drive ya home."

You narrow your eyes at him. "So you can kidnap me, or something?"

Dante puts a hand on your shoulder, his expression becoming cold again. "If I wanted to do that, I could have already done it plenty of times before, kiddo. I'm a lot of things; a liar ain't one of them."

"Fine, okay. I'll let you drive me home." You roll your eyes when you hear him laugh victoriously under his breath and follow him into his car. "How do you have the time all day to stalk me like this?" you ask aloud, climbing into the passenger's seat. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"You call it stalking, I call it watchin' over you like a father should his child. So far, we've seen just how helpful it is having me keep an eye on you," Dante replies. He pauses. "And I'm retired, but I used to be a private investigator."

"Oh joy. My own personal PI." You buckle your seat belt. You're still in disbelief. Someone actually gives enough of a damn about your safety, and it's your local neighborhood serial killer? "You said you only kill bad people." He hums in confirmation. "Does that mean 'petty thief' bad? Or, like, actual bad people?"

"The latter, kid. Not 'cause it makes me feel like a good person, just makes me feel like less of a bad person."

"So you can admit you aren't a good person?" you quip sarcastically, arms folded.

"Course not. But I don't think there really are any inherently good people in the world," he says.

"What about me, then? Why protect me if you think there's nobody who's actually 'good'?"

Dante glances at you. "I don't expect you to be a saint. In my eyes, you're amazing, perfect even. And sure, you got flaws—a lot of 'em—but so does your old man."

You cringe at the statement. "You mentioned me reminding you of your kid. What happened?" you pry further. "All I know is they died, right?" You rub the bruise on your forehead.

"They were out with some friends one night. And a few hours later I'm gettin' phone calls about how my baby's in critical condition. I get there, but there wasn't anything I could've done to save 'em. All I could do was sit beside them 'til..." He trails off. "They died holding my hand. But," he adds, looking at you sternly, "that shit ain't happenin' to you. That's why I'm keeping you safe."

After he stops at a red light, you stare up at him, deep in thought. "Is that why you kill...?"

"Because someone killed my kid?"

"Yeah, exactly."

Dante nods his head after a moment of hesitation. "It started with that, yeah. I killed the bastards that put them in that hospital bed. But that wasn't enough. I guess with monsters like that, I get a little trigger-happy."

It's quiet for a while.

"...how do you know I won't come forward about this information?" you question once your home is in sight. "Or try leaving, for that matter?"

Dante laughs. "You wouldn't get far without me knowing."

That shuts you up quick. Your house pulls up soon afterwards.

"Well, uh, thanks for driving me home," you mumble, opening the car door.

"No problem. Oh, wait—" he takes your wrist gently to keep you from getting out yet. He digs in the compartment below your armrest. Eventually he finds a pen and pad. He writes something down, ripping it off and handing it to you. "—call me whenever you need it. Even if ya just need help studying, or whatever." Dante shrugs nonchalantly.

"Or I'll just knock on the window of the car outside my place?" You weakly smile. Despite the oddity of the situation, this whole scenario is strangely hilarious.

At least, it feels that way because you might've hit your head a little too hard.

...

Those people who were harassing you went missing. You know for a fact it was Dante, and while you don't wish for their deaths, it still leaves a sour taste in your mouth when you see them on the news, with their parents crying about how sweet and kind they were.

You don't even know how to feel about Dante anymore. Maybe he is a good person, who really is doing the world a favor, but it's just not worth the risk to associate with him.

Except he isn't going to leave you alone.

Still though, you decide that ignoring him until he just leaves you alone.

Which proves difficult because sometimes he comes around and knocks on your door every so often, to drop off food, and just check in on you and how you're doing.

Some days you wonder what might happen if you answer, or send a text. He did give you his phone number after all.

You fight the curious urge, until one day, when tiredly trudging home after a particularly awful day.

For some reason, you look around the streets for a black car following you, but find nothing of the sort.

You decide to go against your better judgment and decide to call Dante. You don't know why you're doing this, every instinct in your body is telling you to not do it.

The phone rings a few times, until an annoyed voice picks up. "What? I'm busy," he snaps.

"Oh, uh, sorry," you stutter. "I shouldn't have called, that was stupid of me—"

"Wait, no, I didn't—" Silence hangs in the air. "Sorry," Dante says softer this time. "Didn't know it was you at first. Is everything alright?"

Your fingers tap against the wood of the table nervously, trying to make up some sort of excuse to cover for the real reason you're calling him.

"Nothing, just... didn't have a good day." You feel so pathetic right now, too caught up in your own emotions to hear the muffled cries in the background on Dante's side of the call. "But that doesn't concern you, does it? Why am I saying this?"

"It's alright, kiddie. Whatever happened to make you upset is important to me." Dante is definitely smiling right now. "Well, listen. I was busy right now, but it can wait, so how's about I swing by wherever you are and you and I can spend some time together? Get somethin' to eat, maybe? Your choice."

You find it hard to decline him. "...okay. I'm not home right now though. Can I just call an Uber and meet you somewhere?" you suggest.

He snorts. "My driving so bad that you'd rather waste money than spend thirty minutes in the same vehicle as me?"

"No, it's not that. I just feel like I'll be intruding since you're busy, or something."

"Don't be silly. Just tell me where you are and I'll be there soon. Alright? Don't get into any suspicious vans or anything like that while I'm not there." He ends the call with that.

The next ten minutes or so you stand around awkwardly, watching as pedestrians pass by. Eventually though, Dante arrives, driving up beside you. He gestures for you to open the passenger door, which you oblige.

You climb inside, buckle your seatbelt, and turn toward Dante. "So...where are we going?"

He stares back at you for a brief second. "Depends. Where would you like to go?"

After some hesitation, you give your favorite restaurant, which he nods in acknowledgement to and begins to drive.

"Why was your day bad?" he asks. "Did something happen? Someone hurt you?" At the red light, he turns to give you a quick glance-over, searching for any bruises or cuts, most likely. You're not injured, though the concerned look on his face stays.

"No, I just haven't slept much lately," you mutter.

"Have you eaten today?" You look away from Dante as an answer, making him curse under his breath. "The biggest hazard to you is yourself, it seems." He shakes his head disapprovingly. "I'm glad you finally called me, by the way. Why'd you decide to do it now?"

You hesitate. "I was feeling lonely, I guess."

"Really? Is that all?" The light flicks to green again, and Dante continues to drive.

"...I didn't see you stalking me today. Normally I see your car following me everywhere."

His breath hitches. "And...that worried you?" Dante looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

You don't reply.

Soon the conversation dies out, and neither of you bother to start another one up.

He focuses on driving, while you distract yourself with counting the amount of trees along the sidewalk on the way to the destination.

When you two pull up in the parking lot, you expect there to be tension, but surprisingly enough, the silence between you two feels comfortable, safe almost. It's a nice change from the usual uneasiness.

Dante gets out first, and you follow. The bell of the restaurant dings when you both enter.

"How many?" the hostess asks politely.

"Two. Thank you," Dante says with a charming smile. To you, it's an obvious fake persona, but she buys it hook, line, and sinker. You roll your eyes discreetly as she leads you two to the booth. You sit on opposite ends, taking your menus from her before she heads off to take care of other customers.

You think about it, then settle for the cheapest thing on the menu, trying to avoid taking advantage of Dante's kindness.

He notices anyway. "I know I don't dress fancy, or anything, but I've got the cash, kiddo. If you want to order the whole menu, you could, and I'd still be able to afford it tenfold. Nothin' is too expensive for you."

"I..." Your face burns out of embarrassment. You flip through the menu once more. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am." Dante scans through his own menu, although half-heartedly, considering his focus is still mostly on you.

Once your orders are made, you both try making small-talk, which proves ineffective. Then your orders arrive, and that too, becomes awkward when he insists on helping you cut up your meal into smaller pieces.

You make a show out of being mad, though truthfully it isn't bothersome as you try letting on it is.

After dinner (which he pays for completely) he looks like he's contemplating on something in the car. "Would you like to come to my place, kiddo?"

"Like, your house?" you clarify.

Dante nods. "It's only fair. I know where you live, I figure it'd be polite showing you the same courtesy."

"Sure, but it depends if I'll leave alive," you joke, but part of you is still concerned about that.

"With the way you take care of yourself, I think staying with me might actually help increase your lifespan a little bit."

A few moments pass by, the two of you basking in the company of one another. It's...nice.

The drive to Dante's home is around thirty minutes long, and barely in the city, surprisingly enough. His house isn't anything super impressive, but it doesn't look bad either.

A very average, middle-class home. It's comforting to see Dante likes simple things, makes it easier to think of him as a normal person than the murderer you know he is.

He steps outside of the car and opens your door for you. You give him a questioning glance, but decide to ignore it for now, unbuckling and heading over to the porch with Dante trailing behind you.

"This is it," he states, pulling his keys out to unlock the door, beckoning you to go in before him.

The interior of his home isn't anything special either, which you enjoy seeing. It makes Dante seem more human. On top of that, it feels safe here, even if this is the last place it should feel this way. It does have a slightly annoying (and worrying) scent of bleach permeating throughout the house.

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Can I ask something? It might be a little weird or triggering, so..."

"You can ask me anything. Doesn't bother me," Dante says.

"Okay... are you so interested in me because I simply look like or act like your kid? I'm worried you expect me to act like them or something similar..."

Dante sighs heavily, sitting down on his couch, and motioning for you to join him. Hesitantly, you do so, staying silent while you wait for him to gather his thoughts.

"I know you're not them. Sure, you remind me a bit of them, but you're your own person, too. It's fine if you don't want to pretend you're anyone but yourself, y'know? That ain't what I'm looking for, and forcing someone to do that wouldn't make anyone happy." He mulls over his words for a moment. "I guess I just want to be a dad again. I felt useless after my kid died, so you gave me that opportunity again."

You look at the ground awkwardly. "Why couldn't you just adopt a kid?"

"A lot of money," Dante answers. "Not to mention not working anymore and not being married anymore makes adoption agencies wary. Plus, you looked like you needed protecting, so I wanted to do so. Now, my turn. Why'd you invite me out? Wanted to spend some time with your old man?" Dante laughs lightly, but his eyes show clear hopefulness.

"If you insist on acting like my father," you pause, taking in a breath, "then yes. I suppose that means I wanted to spend time with you. Is that okay?"

Dante looks almost ready to cry. His hands twitch at his sides. "'course it is," he mutters softly, barely containing himself from getting overly emotional.

You scoot closer to Dante, hesitating for only a few moments before wrapping your arms around him. "Thank you for inviting me into your home."

He reciprocates quickly, holding onto you like a lifeline, face buried in your hair. "I missed this so much..." His voice is choked-up as he holds you tighter to him. "My baby," Dante whispers.

You don't know why you're letting this happen, but you don't want to dwell on that. His embrace is more comforting than it should be, especially considering what he is. But if he wants to play pretend, to imagine he has a child again, you may as well let him.

Even if that means ignoring the faint noises from the basement, and pretending it's just someone next-door.

"I love you so much," he mutters. He almost sounds hysterical, even if his tone is quiet, almost a whisper. "Never leave me. I can't take that, kid. I can't."

You pretend to be asleep, just so you won't have to answer that. He sighs and only holds you tighter.

[22ayla21]

I feel like want to prank my husband 😎

The wife suddenly kiss the husband and run away, leaving the husband speechless and then he start to chase after us 🤭✨ then after they caught to us he start to kiss the wife.

Meanwhile the kid when they see the parents kissing start to feel disgusting or anything a reaction a kid make when they see their parents kiss each other

Love is War (with kisses)

A little prank by the wife raised the mood of the husband, but the children are not very happy about it.

It all started innocently.

She came up to him as lightly as the wind, wrapped her arms around his neck and left a quick but tangible kiss on his lips. It was unexpected, but pleasant. The warmth of her lips touched him, leaving something more than just a trace - a challenge.

And then she ran away.

For a second, Mydei was stunned, and then it dawned on him. Her light laughter echoed throughout the house, and something inside him switched on - the instinct of a hunter who did not tolerate provocation without an answer.

He rushed after her. She was fast, but he knew her better than anyone. He knew where she would turn, what route she would try to escape. Her steps were light, but he caught every sound, every movement, narrowing the circle.

And, of course, he caught her.

With a loud giggle, she found herself in his arms, but her joy quickly gave way to surprise - he began to shower her with kisses. Her face, forehead, nose, cheekbones, lips - he didn't leave a single place without attention, making her laugh and resist, but he held her tightly.

- Enough, enough, - she finally exhaled, barely managing to catch her breath.

But he wasn't going to stop. At that moment, the children entered the room.

Their synchronous "Eww!" was so loud and expressive that even Mydei stopped for a second.

The eldest son demonstratively rolled his eyes, the youngest pretended that she urgently needed to leave, and the middle one was sincerely indignant at what was happening.

Mydei grinned, but did not let go of his wife, pressing her closer. The children looked at them with an expression of sincere disgust - parents kissing, how awful.

But he didn't care. Today he won this battle.

She approached him quietly, as she always did when he needed her near. She looked into his eyes, full of fatigue and tension. He said nothing, just noticed her movement, when she rose on her toes, and felt her lips touch his. It was a quick and unexpected kiss - light, but full of feeling. She quickly pulled away, a playful sparkle flashed in her eyes. Before he could say anything, she had already turned and ran away.

He stood there, confused, his heart beating in his chest with genuine speed. This kiss was like a challenge, like a game, but he felt something more in it. He lost the moment, did not have time to answer, and his irrepressible desire to catch up with her intensified. He hurried after her, his steps becoming faster and faster, and her laughter in his ears - louder. Every now and then she looked back and quickened her pace, as if mocking his desire to catch up with her. He couldn't stop, he couldn't just let her go without figuring it out.

As soon as he caught her, she smiled again, but her laughter died down when he couldn't help but lean in and kiss her again. But this time it wasn't the same light kiss, it was a yearning for her, as if she was the only one who could make him forget about the world around him. Her lips were so close, and he felt her body softly give in to his hands.

At that moment, the children entered the room. Seeing the scene before them, they literally froze in place, arms crossed and blushing. The seconds dragged on, and it seemed like time slowed down. The children exchanged uncomprehending glances, watching their parents, as if this was something completely alien to their peaceful and organized day.

The youngest son exhaled, "Dad, Mom... again?"

The middle one shrugged, "I knew they would act like this."

And the eldest daughter frowned and quietly said: "I never thought that adults could be so... well, strange."

But for them it was just a strange moment that they could not understand, but at the same time they knew one thing: their parents were happy again.

Phainon sat in his chair, enjoying the silence. It had been a tiring day, and everyone around him seemed lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, without warning, his wife came up to him, kissed him tenderly on the lips, and without saying a word, ran quickly towards the door.

His heart skipped a beat. He didn't have time to understand what had happened when she had already disappeared, leaving him in bewilderment. He looked at her, feeling the warmth of her lips on his for a long time. Thoughts instantly flashed in his head - what was she up to? Why did she leave so quickly?

But that couldn't be enough. He got up from his seat and rushed after her, trying to catch her before she disappeared into the hallway. He knew her character: if he didn't catch up, she would keep her distance even longer. His steps were quick, and his thoughts were tense.

His wife didn't have time to disappear to the other end of the house. He caught her by the shoulder and turned her towards him. She wanted to retreat, but he did not let her go. The look on her face said it all - she was not going to give in, but her eyes, full of joy, betrayed her playful mood. He pulled her to him and kissed her again, this time with such passion that she barely had time to breathe.

But the children standing in the doorway looked at this spectacle in surprise. Their faces turned pale, and they turned away, as if they did not want to witness this scene. Disgust and embarrassment were intertwined in their eyes, because kisses from parents are something completely alien and uncomfortable for them.

Phainon, catching their glances, restrained himself. He understood that they would not appreciate this moment, but in his heart he was happy that he was able to feel close to his wife again, despite the childish awkwardness. His wife finally smiled and gently pushed him, running away again, but with a playful look, because she knew he would always catch up with her.

[saturnyo]

Birthday Gift

Thanks anon for this request

Relationship: dbfJoel x reader one-shot

Warnings: language, fluff, smut (duh, of course), profanity, degradation, praise, penetration, nicknames(daddy, etc.)

Summary: Your dad decides to have a party for your birthday. Everything goes great until you see your dad's best friend, Joel Miller. After a few years away, he's finally back in town and more handsome than ever, but also off limits. But after a few flirty glances and a moment alone with each other, a spark ignites, one that is not able to be tamed

WC: 3.9k

***I do hope the person who requested this and whomever else comes across this enjoys it. I'm just starting out so it's definitely not perfect but despite that I am pretty proud of it :)***

✩──────────✩

He's your dad's best friend. You have known him since you were a teenager, and he used to be your next-door neighbor. That never changed until now.

You didn't expect to see him. You were mingling around at your party, talking with family and neighbors alike. the warm summer breeze carried the sound of your laughter and the constant hum of cicadas,

until you heard it

The rough southern drawl of a familiar voice. Joel Miller. You aren't sure why your heartbeat started to pick up speed, but his voice affected you in a way you never felt before. Turning around, you see him standing there in a loose-fitting t-shirt and blue jeans with his hair slicked back as a few strands fell onto his forehead. “God, he was handsome”, you said to yourself.

The last few times you visited home, something was different between you two. The looks lasted longer, and the hugs lingered. The occasional nod and few spoken words turned into small laughs and smile lines. You started to see him in a different light.

But now you are turning 25, and just the sight of him makes you soaking wet. You see your dad gesture Joel over to you before someone calls his name, excusing himself before walking away.

The look he gave you made you weak in the knees. You muster up some courage before walking over, taking a sip from your cup as you do. you felt you also needed some liquid courage.

“Hey now, look who it is. Been too long.” Joel remarked. The roughness of his voice combined with his strong arms wrapping around you in a hug with the smell of his cologne doesn't help the ache that is growing between your legs

"Hey, it's definitely been a long time," you muttered. His eyes rake over you, taking in your outfit. A flicker of something passed in his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Tell me, how’s life been goin’ lately? Keepin’ you busy?”

"Are you being genuine, or are you just doing it to be nice?" you said humorously. A small smile fluttered upon Joel's face, and god, you thought he couldn't look more handsome at that moment. Heat rose in your face, looking down at your feet and avoiding his gaze.

“Hey, I’m bein’ honest here. Your dad’s mentioned you went to college—I’d love to hear more ‘bout it.”

You hear someone call your name from across the yard, catching your attention.

“Well, looks like someone else is tryna steal your time now… guess I’ll have to share, huh?” Joel mused

"It appears so. I must be a hot commodity." You start to walk away before you hear him say something under his breath

“And Darlin’, you look like a ray of sunshine in that dress—just downright beautiful,” he whispered

✩──────────✩✩──────────✩

The sun is setting as the warm orange glow cascades across the sky. The atmosphere has died down a bit, but everyone is still enjoying themselves instead for you. The entire night, you have been tortured by the thought and presence of Joel.

Since you were a teen, he's been around your house helping or hanging out with your dad. The man who would once carpool you and your friends to and from school is now the man looking at you like he is starving, and you are the food that he needs to quench his hunger. You watch him go inside the house, and you aren't sure where your burst of confidence came from, but you followed him inside

As you walked inside, you couldn't find him anywhere. going down the hallway before suddenly you felt someone pulling you into your bedroom. A hand clamps down on your mouth as they press you up against the door. these rough, calloused hands felt familiar

“You really thought you could slip away that easy? All those little glances… that sundress… Tell me, darlin’, did you put it on, knowin’ I wouldn’t be able to look away?”

Joel whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. your hands in a bind as he puts them behind your back, holding you in place. you could feel his hard cock against your ass as he grinded against you.

Using one of his hands, you felt him slide it slowly up the back of your dress squeezing your ass. The teasing is pure torture.

“Darlin’, say somethin’. ‘Cause if your dad knew… and you keep lookin’ at me like that—I’m hangin’ on, but barely.”

"Please… don’t stop… I need you, Joel…" you whimpered. Whatever self-control Joel had shattered at your words. Whatever hesitations either of you had are now gone. flipping you around with your back against the door, he grips his hand around your throat.

"On your knees," Joel demanded

You didn't hesitate or make him wait. You did what you were told. getting on your knees, Joel starts to unbuckle his belt frantically as if he'd die if it takes a moment longer. finally his cock springs forth as pre cum is already dripping down.

“Fuck, baby… look at what you’ve done to me. Do you even know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this? How many nights I’ve had to fight every damn part of me just to keep from losin’ control?”

He gathers your hair in his hands, gripping it tightly as you put his cock into your mouth. You hear him let out a low groan

“Fuck… I don’t think I’m gonna last too long.”

You wanted more. You knew you could take more. You wanted to feel every bit of him. putting your hands and using them to grip his ass, you push your head further down taking his entire length. tears fell from your eyes at how much you were taking, but you wanted this...you needed this.

Joel's body was shuddering more and more as your head bobbed up and down faster and faster. using your tongue to flick the slit at the head of his cock, you can hear his mumurs of appreciation as he edges closer and closer. He places a hand on the door, bracing himself as you feel him twitch inside your mouth

“Shit… I’m right there, baby. So damn close it hurts. You don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me.” Joel mummurs

His thrusts become more urgent and aggressive until his cum shoots into the back of your throat, swallowing every last drop. freeing his cock from your mouth, Joel lifts your face by your chin helping you stand up.

“Happy birthday, darlin’" he said, smirking.

You smirked back until you heard a knock at the door

"Sweetheart? Are you in there? Have you seen Joel anywhere?"

shit it was your dad. You look at Joel frantically not knowing what to do

"Yeah, I'm ok. and no, I haven't seen him."

"ok, well, if you see him, let me know."

Your dad's footsteps are heard as the stairs' floorboards creak. Once he gets far enough away, you heave a sigh of relief, looking back to Joel. There's a different look on his face now, almost a sign of...guilt?...regret? You didn't have time to question it as he ushered you out, waiting for you to go before he sneaked out. As you walked back down the long hallway, glancing back at Joel, you saw his unreadable expression.

Now, you have an entirely new problem. What will you do with these growing feelings, and how will you keep it a secret

✩──────────✩✩──────────✩

it started slowly at first.

the secret meetings, the late night phone calls

Every single time you and Joel were together, a part of yourself stayed behind with him. the more time went on the more you realized the one thing that would make your already difficult relationship harder to hide...

You fell in love

Once you realized this, you kept Joel at arm's length. The secret meetings became less frequent. you didn't have late night phone calls as often. Joel certainly couldn't just walk over at any time and ask for you directly; it would be too suspicious.

After a few weeks of hardly any talking, eventually, it all came to a head.

Ms. Johnson, the town's know-it-all, was holding a Fourth of July party for the entire neighborhood. Whether it was to be kind or be in everybody's business, you figured it was the latter. despite what her reasons were, you knew he would be there. Joel has been trying to contact you for weeks but you ignored him. afraid of facing the truth and afraid of what your dad would say especially your town. It was a very close-knit community.

You dragged your feet all the way over to the party, zoning out as you tried to listen to your dad drone on about something going on at work. You get to the house, walk through the living room, and go to the backyard, where you see Joel. Your heart lurches out of your chest. You missed him terribly. As if he could feel your presence, he turned and saw you. his eyes softened at the sight of you standing there "like a vision of beauty," he would whisper to you as he slowly thrust into you, pinning you to his bed.

You didn't know whether or not to go to Joel first, but it looks like Ms. Johnson beat you to it. She saunters over to Joel, placing a hand on his shoulder trying to act like she's familiar with him...too damn familiar. A part of you wanted to walk over there and rip her arm away from him, but you couldn't. your relationship was still a secret. to get your mind off everything, you started to drink and dance away your feelings.

Every so often, you would look over and find him already looking at you. You became brazen and angry but not sure with what exactly. Was it yourself? Joel? Ms. Johnson? or all of the above.

All you knew was you needed another drink. Walking over to the table that was set up, you see Ms. Johnson beside you. You try to ignore her, but she stops you as you try to walk away from the table.

“You ain’t as slick as you’d like to think, sugar. I see right through you,” she remarked

"Excuse me?"

“You gonna deny it? You think I didn’t notice? You can try, but I ain’t buyin’ it—not for a second.”

"I literally have no clue what you are talking about, which means you are wasting my time."

“Listen here, sugar… I saw those looks you two been throwin’ around, and don’t even think for a second I didn’t notice you sneakin’ over to Joel’s place every damn night for weeks.” Ms. Johnson added. her voice is low, whispering as quietly as she can, “I know your daddy doesn’t have a clue… His best friend? He’d be really disappointed if he knew. And what do you think everyone else would say if they found out?”

Your heart thudded in your chest. The relevation washed over you. She knew.

That nosy bitch

"And what do you gain for this? Do you have a silly little crush on him? Even if you do reveal the secret, who's to say he would want you?" you replied

That clearly angered her, as you saw her face turn red. but before she could continue with her threats, Joel walked up

"Is there a problem?" Joel muttered

You glanced behind you. Joel was visibly tense; you could see him clench and unclench his jaw. Ms. Johnson's mood changes suddenly, as she sees him walk up trying to save face.

"Oh sweetheart, of course not. it’s just us gals chattin’, sugar. Nothin’ more to it."

She starts to walk away but glances at you one last time. you knew what the look meant, Joel coming to your defence confirmed it for her. She's going to tell your dad, and now she may also tell everyone else.

"Joel...she..." you whispered. You were afraid of what would happen. He placed a hand gently, subtly on your shoulder.

"I know. I saw it all. I think I need to get you out of here."

"No. If she says something, I can't sit here and let you face the repercussions from my dad alone."

"You have been drinking. You need to rest," Joel stated

"I don't want to go home. I can't face my dad right now."

“Darlin’, for tonight, stay at my place. I’ll feel better knowin’ you’re under my roof, just to make sure.”

"Ok..." you muttered weakly.

You gave you no protests. You let Joel guide you out of the party, not caring anymore who sees. After a few hours, Joel headed over to your home to speak with your dad to try to appease the situation.

Sitting on the couch, aimlessly watching whatever movie played automatically, you hear the soft click of the front door closing. You jumped from the couch and ran to Joel. Gasping once you saw the condition he was in. His face was swollen and bruised. One of his eyes was barely open, already swollen shut by a growing bruise. He also had a split lip with dried blood smeared.

"Did...did my dad do this?" Tears flowed from your eyes as you saw the rest of the damage. It was all your fault. you felt it was all your fault

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault, darlin’. He’s your dad, and he’s just protective. I let him do what he needed to, didn’t fight back…all for you.”

You stood there for a few minutes hugging Joel, tears flowing from your eyes as you constantly apologized. and of course, he kept reassuring you it wasn't your fault. eventually, you grabbed a first aid kit and started to clean up the cuts the best you could

After you had stitched him up, you two curled up on the couch with the glare of the TV in the background.

"Joel...there's something I have to tell you. i..."

“It’s alright, darlin’. I know… and I love you too. You mean more to me than you’ll ever realize, and I’m here. Always.”

You lifted up your head and kissed him softly. his hands cradled your face in such a gentle way

“Say it again, darlin’. I need to hear it.”

"I love you, Joel Miller."

He lets out a low growl as he picks you up and sits you on his lap.

"God, you drive me insane," he muttered

His hand is on the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly close. He's a starving man, and you are his bread.

It feels like your body is on fire as he trails kisses along your collarbone. You arch your back, letting out a moan.

"Fuck… Joel…"

Joel's strong arms lift you up and carry you into his room. You have never been in here before. It smells like sage and whiskey, just like Joel. He carries you further into his room before placing you in front of a mirror.

You see him look at you... no... admire you through the mirror. taking his time with you as if tonight would be the last time he ever saw you again. He slowly unbuttons your shirt, as he whispers into your ear

"You are beautiful, and I want to show you exactly how much."

His fingers slowly trail down between your breasts as you lean into his touch. Joel's hands palmed your breasts, squeezing your nipples, making you gasp

"Joel...please..."

“Please what, darlin’? Don’t hold back now. I need to hear you say it.”

The way he's teasing you makes you frustrated. you grind your ass in his crotch making him shudder. he grabs your throat making you look at him

“Now, darlin’, behave yourself. Say it—don’t make me ask again.”

His hands drift further down your body, frustratingly slow. He stops at the waistband of your pants

"Daddy...please...."

“Well, there you go. Was it really that tough, sweetheart?”

You groan in frustration again as he starts to strip your clothes slowly. kissing every inch of your body as he continues to whisper sweet nothings into your skin.

"god, you are beautiful."

"How did a man like me get so lucky?"

"You are just perfect."

As you stand naked in front of the mirror, you see him slowly strip his clothes as well. His rugged body is just perfect. Joel's strong arms cradle you ever so slightly as he bends you over in front of the mirror.

“Now, let me make you feel good… just like you deserve.”

You shiver as he places kisses along your spine. He places his hands on your waist, bracing himself as he pushes his cock inside you.

"Fuck...."

"Fuck..."

You arched your back, forcing Joel to speed up his pace. Your hips slamming into his demanded more as he lifted you up slightly pressing your soft skin into his. your hands drift into his hair, gripping and holding on through the pleasure.

You feel Joel's fingers slowly delve into your folds as you yell out a moan so loud that you think even the neighbors could hear you.

That only seemed to drive him forward as he kissed your neck, saying your name over and over again

“I don’t ever wanna forget this… the feel of you against me, hearin’ you call out my name. it drives me wild."

you feel something building up inside. his cock and fingers are working together in tandem bringing forth a shuddering orgasm.

"oh god, fuck...Joel!"

Your orgasm shudders through your body, making you weak in your knees. Thankfully, Joel was holding on tightly, or else you would have collapsed onto the floor. but he doesn't stop there. he continues to fuck you through your orgasm

"I don't know if I can take anymore Joel..."

“You can, baby… I know you can. Just hold on to me.”

You feel him twitch inside you as his cum fills you up. the feeling of him twitching and spilling himself is too much for you.

"fuck Joel...i'm cumming again.."

Joel holds you whispering in your neck as you ride through your second orgasm. you lean into him, tired, wet, and breathless as he kisses you on the forehead

"I love you..."

"I love you too sweetheart..."

✩──────────✩✩──────────✩

A few days go by, and by now, everyone in town knows. Ms. Johnson kept her promise and told everyone she could get her claws into. Everywhere you went, whispers and stares followed, but now you don't care anymore. You love him, and he loves you.

The thought of that sends a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest. Joel loves you...

After day five, even though you didn't want to, you and Joel agreed it was time for you to speak to your dad. As you walk through the living room of your home, you see your dad sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of whiskey in hand.

"Dad?"

His head whips up in your direction. His bloodshot eyes tell you he's been drinking quite a bit.

"Oh...you are back? Or are you leaving again?" he asked. it broke your heart a little when he said that. Clearly, he was struggling with the news he found out a few nights ago. his voice nearly a whisper, "so you and Joel...how long has that been going on?"

"Since my birthday..." you replied. You hear your dad suck in a breath at the relevation

"Two months...two months a friend of mine has been with my daughter," he said angrily

"Dad...don't start. you have no idea..." you started to speak, but he cut you off

"I do have an idea. Both of you lied to me, and you are my daughter," he yelled

Your anger was rising. You came to Joel's defense; it was all that mattered right now

"Yes, we lied, and you know why we did? because of the way you are acting now." You exhaled, your voice shaking, "Look Dad, I know it's difficult, but I love him, and he loves me. and those bruises you gave him are because he didn't fight back for me...because he still holds you in a high regard."

"He didn't...he chose not to fight back?" he whispered

"No, he didn't because I asked him not to, and he is a good man; you know that." Your hands are shaking waiting for your dad to say something.

"Fine...it ain't gonna be easy, but...I don't want to lose you or him." he stops, taking a deep breath. "So, I am willing to work on it...to work on this because if you are happy sweetheart, that's all that matters to me."

Tears formed in your eyes as you gave your dad a tight hug. Everything was finally ok...for now, but that's better than nothing

"How about we watch one of those terrible rom com movies you love so much and order in a pizza? sounds good?"

"Sounds good, Dad."

✩──────────✩✩──────────✩

Two years later

It took a while for your dad to accept it, but he eventually came around. Even Sarah accepted the idea. It was a little weird for her at first since you two went to school together, but ultimately, she was happy for you two

Your birthday rolled around once more, and you decided to hold it at Joel's this time.

You walked onto Joel's deck, looking out to his backyard and seeing everyone you love with you tonight. You feel Joel's arms wrap around your waist, standing behind you as you look at the party guests.

"Do you like it?" He questioned. Sarah told you he spent weeks agonizing over the most minor details for your party. You joked you've never seen him so domesticated, which, of course, earned you a scowl.

"Of course, I love it. It's perfect." You kissed him as you stared lovingly into his eyes.

You see Sarah run over to you both

"Hey dad, are you ready?"

Looking at the two of them confused. You wonder what they meant

"What do you mean? Is everything alright?

"Of course, darlin, it's just..." Joel trails off, looking a bit shy as Sarah buts in

"It's for your birthday present," she said smiling

"My birthday present?" you said, looking to Joel. "Well, it seems that Joel Miller has a heart after all."

You laugh as Joel starts to glare at you

"Come on, Dad, it's time," Sarah insisted

You three step out into the middle of the yard as everyone starts to gather around you. Sarah hands Joel a guitar. You knew Joel played from time to time

If I ever were to lose you I'd surely lose myself

Everything I have found dear I've not found by myself

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. He's singing this song for you, just for you. he has stolen your heart in a way you didn't expect

I believe And I believe 'cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

Joel finishes the song as everyone begins to clap. You walk up to him and kiss him, trying to pour every ounce of love you have for him into it. In a mere matter of months, your life changed dramatically, and you wouldn't ever change it

"i love you Joel Miller"

“I love you too, darlin’. I truly do.”

[davinawritings]

Ghost Boyfriend NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Ghost Boyfriend is all about aftercare. He cleans you up as soon as you finish and is very gentle. He’ll run you a bath with candles and scented bubble bath. He massages all your sore muscles, leaving kisses all along your skin. He makes sure that you know he is there even if you can’t see him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

His favorite body part on himself is his fingers. He loves touching and caressing your body. He loves the pleasure his fingers can bring you.

His favorite part of you is your face. He loves seeing your expressions more than anything. He smiles every time he watches you smile. More than anything, ghost boyfriend loves watching your expression as he makes you cum. Each time pleasure overtakes your beautiful face, he cums right along with you from the sight alone.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Ghost boyfriend loves to cum on your chest. There’s just something he loves so much about seeing you covered in his cum. He will literally beg and plead to be able to cover your body in his cum. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Ghost boyfriend definitely perved on you for months before making you aware of his presence, and honestly, he still sometimes hides himself from you just so he can observe you peacefully. His favorite time to watch you is when you are showering. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

Honestly, he was someone experienced as a human, but you are the first person he has fucked as a ghost. There’s a bit of a learning curve, but you both get the hang of things pretty quickly.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Missionary with one of your legs around his hip and the other resting on his shoulder. Ghost boyfriend loves being able to see your tits and your face as he fucks you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.):

For the most part, he is serious. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

When he shows himself to you, you can see that he is not a very hairy man. There is some hair, but he is pretty natural, with not a massive amount of grooming (especially depending on the era he died in). 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect):

He can be very romantic. He knows he is not like most boyfriends, and he sometimes feels a little inadequate in that sense, so he always tries to be very loving and romantic with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He loves jerking off when he watches you. Before you started dating, it was a staple of his routine because you would get him so hard. It’s definitely gone down because now he has you in his arms, but he still does it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Mutual masturbation. He loves watching you play with yourself just for him. He could sit there for hours just lazily stroking his cock and watching you pleasure yourself. When he gets really into it, he will tell you what to do. When you should slow down and speed up. He loves watching you edge yourself as he does the same with his fist. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He prefers the bed. It’s the most comfortable and feels the most intimate to him. On special occasions, he likes setting the mood with candles and dim lighting. He wants you to always feel loved and cherished.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

Pretty much everything about you turns him on, but especially when you are naked and wet. Whenever he sees you in the shower or bath, all he wants to do is caress your skin and bury himself inside your tight heat.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs):

Degradation. He always wants you to feel cherished, so degradation just isn’t for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He loves giving, but he loves receiving slightly more. He enjoys watching you struggle to take all of him in your mouth. Seeing your eyes water as they look up at him always has him ready to cum.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

He is much more of a slow and sensual kind of man. He will occasionally go fast, but it’s not his preference. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He is okay with quickies. As long as he gets to be inside of you, he is a happy ghost. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He is okay with taking risks as long as they don’t hurt you and you are comfortable.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He doesn’t last very long, but he is consistently half-hard when you are around, so he can go many rounds in a day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He doesn’t really use a lot of toys when you have sex. The only exception is with the mutual masturbation. He does enjoy watching you use the toys during those times. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Ghost Boyfriend is not much of a tease. He will occasionally, but he typically just wants to make you feel good and is all about your pleasure.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is a loud ghost. He is moaning and groaning in your ear as he fucks you. Sometimes, he will even let a stray whimper escape, though he vehemently denies it after the fact. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He definitely waits right by the door for you to get home from work like a little puppy. He gets extremely bored in the house when you aren’t there, so he is always so excited when you finally come home for the day.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Ghost boyfriend is pretty average girth wise but he is long. Every time he bottoms out in you, you feel like he is rearranging your insides. It also has a slight upward curve that always makes you see stars.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

High… very high. He really can go at any time of the day. If you allowed him, he would spend all day inside you. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward):

He doesn’t really have to sleep, but he enjoys resting with you in his arms and daydreaming about your lives together while you rest.

[endo-bunny]

His Light in the Darkness

Summary: When Joel finds love ten years into the apocalypse and has a daughter with that woman two years later, he has to deal with the death of his beloved. He had to deal with a child that he doesn’t want, the child that took his whole world. That was, until a couple months after your birth. Now you will have to go with your father, Joel, and “The Cargo,” Ellie. As you go through this traumatizing yet exciting new adventure, you will have to learn a lot of things if you wish to survive in this world.

Paring: Joel x daughter!reader

Series Warnings:Mentions of violence, using both the game lore and show lore, Tess being a mother figure to reader, reader is eight years old, attempted SA, attempted kidnapping, kidnapping, slaves, death, dialogue and actions/scenes not being exactly the same or close to original, nicknames for reader(Little Light, honey, sweetie, baby girl), anxiety attacks, anxiety alluded to but not specified, symptoms of ptsd but not specified, reader is Joel's biological daughter, mother’s looks not specified, reader is a child so she will cry a lot (please don’t complain about this) this is normal for children

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence, using both the game lore and show lore, Tess being a mother figure to reader, reader is eight years old, panic attack

Word Count: 3,465

******

Chapter 1 - The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Winter 2015

Cries were what filled the room. A female that looked to be in her mid thirties was laid out on a worn down mattress. In her arms was a baby, the one that was producing those beautiful sounds. Her breaths were shallow, hands bloody as her eyes met those of her lover. There beside her was Joel. He stared lovingly at the woman, your mother. She taught him how to love again, and you were also someone that was going to help teach him how to love once more in the future. The woman had already known there was a chance of not surviving through childbirth. Hell, they were living in the fucking apocalypse. They didn’t have the same materials and medical help or equipment that they had twelve years ago.

She felt weak, she wasn’t gaining any strength back. She had children before the outbreak but upon outbreak day and thereafter, they had died in front of her eyes. That was one of the many things that the two lovers confided in and shared with each other. Her other births had been similar to this birth; but her other times were much different when it came to the time after giving birth. She wasn’t gaining any strength back like she usually would, she was only losing it. She could feel her heart that had previously been pounding in her chest slowly start to slow down to an alarmingly slow speed. Her breaths that had previously been easier to have were quickly becoming harder and harder to inhale.

With just one look, Joel knew what she was about to tell him. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose his lover; his light in the dark. Tears flooded his eyes, racing down his face shortly after. He choked out a sob. As carefully as he could, he gingerly held her in his arms. They stayed like that for hours, even after she had taken her final breath. She had been able to breastfeed their child with the help of Joel.

As he continued to lay there, your mother still in his arms, the door was quietly opened. Tess stepped in, grief upon her face at seeing Joel with his deceased lover. She walked over, getting close enough to touch Joel’s shoulder. His eyes snapped up to meet hers. This was the most vulnerability that Joel has ever shown Tess. She saw how much pain he was in, and she couldn’t do anything to help him. He muttered something to her after he calmed down a little.

“Take the baby, I don’t want the thing that took away the love of my life.”

She was shocked to say the least. She never thought that he would ever say anything such as that. He always seemed so happy when talk of the two’s unborn child was brought up. As Tess sighed, she lightly shook her head side to side, rejecting his request; or rather demand. She couldn’t do that. He looked angry, more than angry. He was extremely pissed to say the least. He snarled at her, even more so when she started to talk about burying your mother. The rest of it all was just a blur in his mind. He blocked everything else. He didn’t want to deal with anything else, especially you.

A couple months passed by, Joel hating every moment of it. On one surprisingly warmer day, his view towards you was swiftly changed. He had put you down on the couch, not fully caring if you fell or not. It didn’t feel like it was his responsibility. He was looking over everything that he would need for his and Tess’ next run. Something in him caused him to turn his gaze towards you. There you were, smiling over at him as if he was the greatest thing in the entire universe. In a sense, he was, to you.

Once you saw that his gaze had turned towards you, you erupted into a fit of adorable little giggles. He had never heard that beautiful sound come from your tiny body. The moment he heard it, he was immediately transported to the first time he heard that same noise come from Sarah.

Right then and there, he knew how disappointed and angry Sarah and your mother would have been at him. He was beyond ashamed of how he acted and treated you. You were his daughter, he was your father, he was supposed to love and protect you. He knew then that he needed to change the person that he was, but only for you. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be any different towards anyone else, he couldn’t trust anyone else in this newer world. As for now, for the first time since your mothers death, he picked you up lovingly and smiled.

“Hi, my Little Light. Daddy’s here now.”

******

Autumn 2023

Giggles erupted from you as you played with your toys; your fathers warning to not make any noise while he wasn’t there escaping your mind. All noises stopped however once you heard the front door open, close, and then voices. All you could hear was your fathers voice before you were sprinting out to him, jumping into his arms that weren’t ready to catch you.

“Daddy!”

He huffed, trying to keep you from falling out of his arms. He looked at you with love in his eyes, but he still had his mask up due to the fact that there was a teenage girl being present.The teenager looked surprised to see this man that has been nothing but cold and rude to her, be so loving and even have a child. You finally looked at her curiosity in your eyes.

“Who’s she Daddy?”

Joel cursed under his breath, “She’s no one, just some cargo,” He had hoped that you would simply just accept that she was there for a tiny bit and then just never bring her up ever.

The teen scoffed at him, “Hi there?” Her voice seemed on edge, “I’m Ellie, the cargo.”

You giggled at her, finding the new girl funny.

“Go and stay in your room baby girl, I’m gonna stay out here, ok?”

You nodded your head, perfectly fine with going back to playing with your toys.

Thirty minutes passed, Ellie snooping through Joel's stuff the entire time. She froze though when she heard a door down the hall open. You padded down the hall, trying to be as stealthy as possible, failing however seeing as you are just eight years old and not fully aware of your surroundings. Once you reached the living room, you jumped. Looking around you saw Ellie looking at you. She also jumped, not expecting your reaction. Seeing her jump causes you to giggle, and while she is weary of you, she does find it a little cute.

“What are you doing? Didn’t the old man tell you to stay back there?”

She honestly didn’t fully care what you were doing but she was still at least a little curious.

You stared at her while your child brain worked to try and think of something, “Nothing?”

Before she could say anything else, you ran over to her. You came up to about her waist, a little lower. You’ve heard Joel and Tess talk about how you’re small for your age. They summed it up to being that you weren’t getting the right nutrients and needed to eat a little more vegetables and meat.

“Why did Daddy say that you’re cargo?”

“‘Cause he’s taking me somewhere,” She sounded grumpy and slightly irritated.

“Who are you?” Ellie was quick to ask you a question of her own.

Telling her your name, you looked down at what she was holding

In her hands were dog tags. You looked back up towards her with a perplexed gaze set in your eyes. She looked down at her hands, having completely forgotten that she was holding them.

“Oh, those are mine.”

“Are you a Firefly?”

Your question caught her really off guard. She had no idea that someone who seems as young as you would know anything about the Firefly’s.

“Uh, no, but someone that I loved was.”

You know by the tone in her voice and the look in her eyes that it was time to shut up. You walked over to your father and sat down on the ground. She watched you before returning to whatever she had been doing. You zoned her out as you found some of the crayons that you had left on the coffee table. Joel had found that he could melt down some of the broken crayons and make new ones.

You made multiple drawings, knowing that all of them would end up on something in the apartment. You looked up once you zoned back into reality. It was dark out and Joel was still asleep. Giggling quietly to yourself, you climbed onto the couch and hopped onto his chest. He jumped awake. Both from you and the nightmare that he had.

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

Ellie was looking at something in your hands. Your dad picked you up and sat you down on the couch. As he sat up, he started to say but you found the fraying threads of the couch much more interesting. Although it became much less intriguing once you heard a certain someone’s voice. Tess walked in through the door, saying something to Joel and Ellie. You looked up at her, quickly getting up to go to her.

“Mama!” You somewhat calmly walked over to her, unlike how you did earlier to Joel.

She greeted you and then looked at Joel.

“Can I talk to you in the other room?”

He looked hesitant towards you before nodding, going to his room. Ellie looked at you curiously, as well as you. Once the door closed, you both turned your gazes to each other.

“So, was that your mom?”

“Not really, I just call her Mama. Daddy told me that my real mama was in a better place and that I would never be able to see her again, but that she loved me. What about you?”

“Yeah, same I guess.”

You smile brightly at the older girl. Right once you opened your mouth, beginning to say something, Tess and Joel walked back in. Joel is quick to pick you up and get you away from Ellie. As you got comfy in his large arms, resting your head against his warm chest, your eyes dropped shut.

The next time that you open your eyes, you’re strapped to your fathers chest. As you start to wake up, you realize that you're not in your home anymore. Were you outside? There weren’t any normal buildings around. Your question was soon answered when you heard guards talking. You were immediately thrown into a frenzy when someone started yelling at your group.

The next thing you know, your father is taking you out of the holder and setting you down directly next to him. Tears were streaming down your face as you frantically grasp onto his pants leg. Everyone’s kneeling and the guard is saying something. Everything happens so fast, your dad is suddenly beating the guard, Tess is grabbing the tester, and Ellie moves in front of you.

You're still crying as all the commotion settles down. You look up at Ellie, who is now sitting next to you with a panicked look on her now dirtier face. She was also looking up. As you reach out for her, wanting to be held to help calm you down, Tess is quick to step in.

“Get away from her.”

You look alarmed, confused why you couldn’t be near her. As you try to understand what's going on, Joel quickly scoops you up, getting away from Ellie just as fast. Tess has something in her hand that you can’t see very well. Tears are still falling from your now red and puffy eyes as your dad curses in frustration.

“Why are you so mad at her, Daddy?” Your small hands grasped onto his shirt, tugging slightly.

Everyone stopped at the sound of your small voice, realization that you were with them sinking into Joel and Tess’ minds. The reality of this situation was making itself loud and clear. Your question goes unanswered as the talking continues on. You were scared, you didn’t know what was going on and everything was terrifying. You just wanted to be at home, safe and sound, being held tightly under a blanket in your fathers arms.

Your breathing starts to quicken as it feels like you're losing control over your own body. Fresh tears sprout from your eyes and your heart is pounding in your ears. Were you dying? You didn’t want to die like this, not now. It felt like you couldn’t breathe. You weakly clutch at your chest as your throat closes up, small whimpers leaving the confines of your overworked lungs. Your tiny body was trembling, beginning to feel very hot in your own skin. Sweat collected on your forehead. Joel noticed very quickly what was happening.

“Hey, baby girl, breathe. You're okay. Look at me baby,” His hand guided your face to look towards him.

He talked you through it, although a lot of it sounded like you were underwater. Once you finally were back, panic attack taken care of to the best of their abilities, you noticed that it seemed like the problem from earlier was completely taken care of. You couldn’t tell when it was taken care of but it was.

Joel seemed to be in a bitterer mood than he was earlier. You stayed quiet, opting to just look around at everything since you had nothing else to do except sit there attached to your fathers chest. As you continued to walk, going somewhere but you didn’t know where, you finally arrived at a new area. It seemed to be a very rocky place. You couldn’t tell if it was a building or not, but it looked similar to one.

You father was the first to go in, holding you tight against his chest despite the fact that you were already tightly strapped to his chest. He looked around a little, making sure that the coast was clear, before telling Tess and Ellie to come in. They soon follow in after him, Tess’ immediate move is to look at you then around the place. As the four of you make your way through the building, the air seems to get tenser, as if something bad was about to happen. That feeling was proven right when Joel and you split up from Tess and Ellie. Your head was covered by the strap, Joel having done that the moment he sensed danger. You could barely move around, all you could do was listen to what was going on around you. You heard growling and your dad grunting every so often. At one point, you get jostled around a little more than normal, a muffled cry coming from your mouth. Joel is quick to put his hand on your back before taking his hand away. You hear a struggle going on before your father and Tess’ voices once again.

As your father uncovers your head, you can finally see once more. There's bodies of the infected all around, and your father is breathing heavily. You don’t get to look around much more before Joel is quickly walking again, trying to get this whole thing done and over with as fast as possible. You’re confused as to what was happening, and it seemed that Ellie seemed to be as well. The two adults however ignored your confused and concerned faces as the supposedly short journey continued on.

******

The trip was much more boring than you had expected. You were finally arriving at the building where Ellie was supposed to be dropped off at, but it seemed to be a little quiet. Joel went into protect mode almost immediately once he realized that something wasn’t right.

As he cautiously looked around, he found that everyone that should've been there was dead. He covered your eyes so that you wouldn’t have to see all of it, trying to keep you safe from the horrors of this world as much as he could. As everyone is looking around, Tess starts talking about where to go next.

“What the hell do you mean? The jobs finished, it’s time to go home,” Joel's ruff voice cuts Tess off mid sentence.

“I mean that I can’t go home,” Tess’ usually strong voice wavers as her eyes land on you.

Ellie gasps, understanding what the older woman meant. Tess pulled the neck of her shirt down to reveal a horrible looking bite. Joel didn’t know how to react, he didn’t want to believe that Tess was bitten. You didn’t understand what was going on, so you tried tugging on your fathers shirt in order to get his attention. He didn’t even look at you, just put his hand on your back.

“You have to get her to Tommy,” Tess goes over to Ellie and grips her arm, showing Joel the bite mark that Ellie had shown them earlier, “She has to be telling the truth. Look at this, this is only a few hours old and it’s already horrible,” She pulls down her own shirt collar once again while talking to further prove her point. Before Joel could respond, groaning and screeching could be heard outside. Tess rushed over to one of the boarded up windows, looking out of it to see outside.

“Get out of here, there's a hoard of those fuckers coming here,” Tess began rustling through her bag, looking for specific items.

She pulled a small object out of a little, purple bag that seemed to still be in good condition. Joel’s breath hitched the moment he realized what the bag was. Tess walked over to you, the small object and bag in her hands.

“Sweetheart, I may not be your real mother but I love you like you're my blood daughter. I’m going to have to go away for a very long time and I want you to have these,” She put the small object in your hand, “Look after your father for me, you’re His Light in the Darkness.”

As you looked at it, you saw that it was a locket. You opened it with confusion, having a little difficulty. Inside the locket were two pictures. One was a picture of your mother, father and Tess all together. Your mother was holding the camera, her arm outstretched as she smiled brightly at the camera. Joel was hugging her, a wide smile outstretched on his face as he looked at her, ignoring the camera. Tess had her hand on her gun, seeming to be on alert, but she still had a warm smile on as she stared at the camera. The second picture was one of your father and mother. Joel had his arm around your mother as she had both of hers on his chest, seeming to be laughing at something. They were in a room that looked similar to the room that your father slept in now, but some of the furniture wasn’t as it was now.

“Daddy look! It’s Mommy!” Your excited voice came out a little too loud as the sounds of groaning and clicking came closer.

Everyone else's eyes went wide upon hearing what was waiting for them outside. Tess quickly began pouring gasoline all over everything in the room, trying to make sure that everything was covered.

“Joel go! Get them out of here, take the girl to Tommy. I’ll lure them in here, then take the building with me,” Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears as she looked at the little girl that she helped raise, knowing that she'd be leaving her.

“Mama? What's happening?”

She couldn't bring herself to tell you. She walked over and kissed the top of your head before handing Joel her backpack. She gave him a silent look before Joel grabbed Ellie to leave. You were crying now, not understanding what was happening and not wanting to leave Tess. Noises could be heard behind you as Joel quickly got out of the building despite Ellies struggles to get out of his grip.

All of a sudden, a loud boom came from behind the three of you. The building exploded. You continued to cry, the commotion overwhelming you. Joel did his best to consol you with what little energy that he had left. As you started to get brought back down to earth, your eyes became increasingly heavier by the second. Joel covered your head as you laid it on his chest, sleep beginning to take you after the exhausting day.

******

Tag list:

@fakegingerrights

@silnebula

I really hope that you liked this! It took a lot of energy for me to actually make this because I've been really procrastinating. I'm currently also working on my other Tech x Reader series but I have no idea when that will be. I'm also working on chapter two for this one. I might also do some romantic one shots for Joel because I love him so much.

@macchiato-dreaming22

[g1rlken]

too sweet 11

Rupert Campbell black x fem!reader, godfather!tony

— part 1 here. series list!

summary: Rupert comes forth with a proposal to help the Baddingham family out of bankruptcy

warnings: arranged marriage, mild swearing

word count: 6.4k words

-

That could not possibly be. Kissing, Rupert. Rupert. Of all people, that man. How could she be so devoid of self awareness like this. Deprive herself of proper principles kissing him back this time. She didn’t even reminisce to the sweetness of the kiss, if one would call it that. Agitated out of her mind she huffed returning back to the paperwork at the end for the bankruptcy which did not seem to have any viable result. Meeting one dead end after another over and over. She had the feeling of being a traitor, kissing the enemy, not being a useful asset to the war at hand and then she realise it wasn’t the 18th hundreds; she had to stop flipping about. Mistakes happen. They happen. Rupert happened.

Following that week she avoided Rupert as if the proximity he was present in was about to go through a disastrous calamity, like a virus, which he was which everyone said. She wasn’t married enough to catch him like that. The prospect in her mind was funny, had she befriended any people in this godforsaken town to joke about she would do so. But as of now she did not have the time nor the correct people. Imagine telling Bas that she’d kissed Rupert. She would much rather self immolate than have that conversation.

The days were so ghastly she was met with such guilt filled anguish about the kiss and the knife of bankruptcy lingering over, loosing solutions and seeing her uncle’s turmoil. It could not get worse than this. Scratching, crossing and throwing papers in her home office upstairs she barely adhered someone at the door, when the bell rang. But it was evening and nobody important visited at the time. At least not for her. Others were probably anyways home to answer the door.

Tony’s face fell when he saw who was at the door and he did not even try to pick it up because there was so much to his displeasure already, “Good evening.” Rupert, dressed in a well pressed suit and flowers in his hand. “Bas is not here.” Tony answered for the man wanting to be done with this interaction with lightening speed. Sending him off right as he came.

“I am not here for him.” Rupert answered, climbing a step on the well marbled entrance stairs to the Baddingham mansion. “May I?” He said, politely allowing himself inside even though Tony felt like being ambushed.

Very uncharacteristic for Rupert to be this way towards their house. Flowers and suits and may-I-small talk. Rupert found his way to tony’s sitting area and he followed behind the man. Both men sat in arm chairs across each other, Tony observed with a distasteful raised brow as Rupert sat on the edge of his seat. Trying to feign respect? Poise? Tony couldn’t figure it out but he was vexed regardless. “So what is it?” Tony inquired letting out a sigh.

“Is Mrs. Baddingham home?” Rupert asked as he kept clutching on to the bouquet of flowers he’d brought for god knows what reason. Nobody had died, Tony thought to himself. Well not yet anyways.

Wanting to get this antics of his over with as soon as possible Tony nodded and called for his wife who was already coming in with a glass of water for supposed guest she’d heard come in when the bell rang. “Rupert!” She exclaimed setting the tray on the coffee table. “Didn’t know you were coming in.”

“I am very fond of the look of surprise.” Rupert amused keeping it light hearted for the conversation upcoming, then he drank half the glass of water she’d brought him. “Sit, please.” He gestured to the arm chair next to Tony.

Just as confused as lord baddingham, keeping her grace and politeness up the lady sat anyways. With her positive smile, “I’m sorry to disappoint but I don’t think Bas is here.” She said assuming the same reason as Tony.

“He is not here for Bas.” Tony answered for Rupert flatly, absolutely underprepared for the curveball that was about to hit him.

“That is right I’m not.” Rupert agreed as he put the flowers forth and then sat back in his seat, clasping his hands together with a deep breath. “It is no secret, you are struggling with certain finances at the moment. Despite of our differences I want you to know I am not here to gloat nor empathise…I have a solution. I just want you to be patient and hear me out once.”

“I have one of the best and most educated people working on it. It isn’t even that big of a problem to begin with” Tony scoffed, it was the biggest problem yet but why would he mention that to Campbell Black? Most definitely here to gloat.

“Are you not nearly bankrupt?” Rupert inquired knowing the answer he just wanted Tony to realise the gravity of his mess.

“Are you not intruding the matter?” Tony snapped back, his patience no longer ran thin it had vanished. The might of this man was unbelievable, he came all the way to his house unannounced to meddle in his business.

“I am not. Like I said I have a solution.” Rupert said with a guarded, bordering polite tone which he never used with Tony as long as he could recall.

Lady Baddingham sought to excuse herself from this conversation since she did not handle business nor finances, “I believe I must excuse you gentlemen to this not being my subject. I could send y/n in, she is working upstairs anyways.”

Before Tony could refuse that, not to disturb y/n, someone who was actually working on the matter instead of this time waste of a man, “No no-“ Rupert said, rather immediate to stop her leave when she didn’t even attempt to stand up. “Don’t send her in.” He emphasised as though wanting her to be the last person for this conversation. “You ought to be here for this, please stay.”

“Oh alright…” she trailed off with an awkward attempt to laugh and make the direly situation lesser.

“I could help you with your situation, waver the tax fine off. It is merely a write off with the minister’s letter and your debt, I could fund that as an investment…if I were to transfer the money directly to my supposed familial-” he paused extremely hesitant to continue but did not let his confidence falter “wife’s account. Wife which I don’t have, but I could.”

Tony let a moment pass, just staring at the man with scrutiny and joined eyebrows as if he were solving some arithmetic in his head. “What?” He spoke finally with a huff, “a wife?” Zero situational awareness as to where Rupert was headed with this.

“If it is an account of your own family, you could easily pay off the debts it wouldn’t even be an additional loan. Even from me.” Rupert shrugged just beating around the bush explaining him the dynamics but not intent.

“Suppose yes.” Tony said turning business with this but he knew there was a score at the end of his deal which would shatter the land beneath his feet, “but you don’t have a wife and due to my deplorable luck l can’t marry you.” Tony scoffed looking away in disregard at his ridiculous offer.

“Ah Lord Baddingham!” Rupert exclaimed laughing as if he actually found that funny, “always so quick with his jokes.” He said pointing it to the man’s lady wife who flashed a small smile at the interaction. “No I don’t mean you…I happen to not have a wife, like I said.” Clearing his throat he shifted in his seat for the third time “and you happen to have someone in your family who could be courted, nudged towards marriage. Your niece-“ he could have paraphrased even more and more but the scrutiny was getting somewhat worse as he realised his point did go across.

The point went across Lord Baddingham like a knife to chest, he contemplated so silently and expressionless the under-reaction was a horror brewing. Even the ever chattery lady wife of his had nothing to say to lighten the tension. “You mean y/n?” Tony asked, as if to confirm.

The calm and guarded voice of his question almost made Rupert wanted to refuse that but he weighed heavy on confidence and answered “Yes.”

Tony nodded, taking in a deep breath bringing his hands together as he stood up slowly “Give me a moment.” He said casually and exited the room with slow strides.

Leaving Lady Monica with him in the wake of the tension of the proposal. “It is rather a generous offer, your kindness and charitable nature baffles me!” She spoke and her usual merry and forever unfazed expression was actually taken aback this time. The gesture and the guts. “As in truly baffles me.” Flabbergasted even.

Rupert just smiled at her words with a nod acknowledging that with modesty but as the time seemed to pass slow on Tony’s absence from the room he couldn’t help but feel anxious. He wasn’t someone who felt anxious often, worrying is for losers. His worry ceased to alarm as he looked up to Tony returning the room with his hunting rifle. “Woah woah now hang on a minute-“

“How dare you!” Lord baddingam enraged pacing across the room as he hastily loaded the rifle in his hands causing his wife to stand from her seat. “You think?! You think I will marry my only niece to someone as vile as you?!” He had added the bullets to the empty load box aiming the edge of it towards Rupert who know stood behind his seat. “I would never disdain the memory of my brother by wedding her to YOU!”

“He was my friend too. My good, honest friend I saw him as a mentor and I too wish to do this for your family on his memory this is beyond our rifts-“Rupert began a hasty explanation. Monica’s hands on Tony’s shoulders were a feeble attempt to hold him back as he fired it in his direction but went to his slant and missed Rupert. “Have you lost your mind?! You could have shot me!” Rupert exclaimed having easily dodged the poor aim he did not believe the man would actually shoot, forced to think against it as he was reloading the rifle again.

“I do intend to shoot you.” Tony parroted aggressively trying to add another bullet into his hunting gun.

“We can have a rational conversation on the subject getting hostile!” Rupert retaliated as Monica got Tony’s gun to lower its shooting end yet not completely out of his grasp.

“On the subject?” He huffed at the underplay of words Rupert used. “Marrying my godchild to a fucking cunt like you would be an atrocity!”

“It would just be one in name, arranged and completely transactional. Had I wanted to swoon her I wouldn’t be having this conversation of asking her hand in marriage with her uncle and aunt.” Rupert tried to explain how he referred to the situation in his point of view.

But it was no use to the offended Lord Baddingham, “You wouldn’t be able to swoon her in your next eight rebirths.” Tony said pointing to him with his gun again which was now taken away finally by Monica, shaking her head.

“Murder is the last thing we need on our plate at this point darling.” She told her husband and set the rifle aside with a heavy sigh.

“Get out.” Tony said approaching Rupert grabbing him by the collar of his blazer, “Get the fuck out of my house-!”

“Alright but you and I both know that even with your debts off, that tax fine is a number nowhere near all of your fortune.” Rupert said treading dangerous waters with practicality and the only language Tony understood, money. “The bank debts, I will transaction them off not as a loan. You wouldn’t have to pay me back. And the letter for tax fine. Think about it you know you need this.” He spoke on the border of his way out before heading out, Tony threw a glass on the wall he was behind, his direction which finally made him leave in a hurry.

There was no possible way Tony would even think of it. Gruffly he scoffed running up the stairs. In a bit y/n herself came downstairs but did not seem to find her uncle anywhere, “Is everything alright? I think I heard gunshots.” She asked her aunt leaning against the kitchen entrance.

“Don’t worry about it, it was nothing.” Monica assured her with a smile as her children settled for dinner. “Come I’ll set your plate.”

“Are you sure it was nothing?” Y/n asked because from the current state of life her uncle was very much in a position to shoot somebody or worse, himself even.

“Yes…” Lady Monica trailed off with a sigh as she ran a motherly hand through her hair, “don’t you worry, alright?” She always had this grounding way about herself who treated y/n the same as her own children.

There was so much left to interpretation but at this point y/n didn’t know what other problem she could tackle so she let it be taking her aunt’s word. Tony came downstairs rushing and dismissed the dinner call, grabbing his coat and running off out. It left the rest of them rather confused but his antics weren’t unseen of.

Tony spent hours with his accountants going through the dynamics of Rupert’s hypothetical plan. Wanting to see if that viper had a double side to this arrangement, that is, if he even thinks about it. The affidavit assurance he spoke of did make it solid. The accountants were very, very positive to go through this deal but he hadn’t told them the anguish of him yet.

He came home and discussed the matter over again with Lady Monica, “the accountants call it a golden deal but, Rupert?! I mean come on-“ he scoffed as he narrated it. “He’d marry her just to spite me. The intent, the motive it all seems so ghastly.”

“If the accounts have reassured you, I suggest you think this over rationally and not emotionally.” Lady Monica advised him from her seat, she loved y/n as much as Tony if not more but the stakes were rather unaffordable this time “Blessings in disguise don’t just come knocking at your door.”

“Rupert is no blessing.” Tony corrected her as his posture stiffened, his money and the post may just be so but himself was nowhere close to it.

“He doesn’t live that far” Lady Monica said with the undertone of considering the proposal, trying to give her husband silver linings.

“What does that have to do with anything?” He asked confused brows raising up at the implication.

“She wouldn’t be that far from us should you consider the prospect.” She explained meekly hoping it would get through without being offended. He did not get so, but he was still dismissal of the silver lining. “She is a smart girl. Why don’t you talk this over with her?”

“And tell her what? I am offered fortune of a dowry for her?” He scoffed shaking his head, he eventually would have to but he did not like that confrontation nor the subject.

“Tell her we are offered a way out, like the accountants said…a golden deal. She would understand.” Lady Monica said lastly as she bid him farewell and good night. He probably didn’t sleep the whole night that night with the information he had to relay on his niece the following morning.

The sunrise had never seemed so very dreadful before as it rose with the household. Tony had to put forth the happenings of yesterday and he hated it already, the sense of upcoming heartache. “You called for me?” Y/n’s knock on his home office door pulled Tony out of his trance as he nodded and gestured her to sit. She followed as she sat on the teal arm chair. “I have to go submit the appealing papers for an extension on the tax notice today did you look at the papers?”

Tony had long forgotten about those papers he had to go through previous night and they just rang a bell as of now. “Oh? Yes, the papers” he spoke paying less mind to it and then with a heavy sigh he sat slant to her on the sofa. “There is something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

The somber yet serious pitch of his tone was new these days, “what is it?” She asked placing her file on the desk to listen to him attentively.

“Rupert, came here last night and he has told us something that might change things.” Tony briefed her in vaguely even though he had thought about it the entire time last night he couldn’t find the right words to relay the information on her now that she was right in front of him.

“Rupert” she repeated trying to undermine the anxious paranoia rising within her. The fright she felt as to what he could have told him, the kiss? He wouldn’t stoop that low would he. It was a mistake. “What did he have to say?” She asked trying her best to maintain a level proper tone and not let the obvious anxiety show.

As he narrated about the proposal the colour on her face drained bit by bit, her uncle explained her only the dynamics of his money oriented offer and only lastly added “…that is, if you are to marry him.”

Y/n just started at him for a moment zoning out in the tense silence and then her shoulders relaxed as she gathered Rupert didn’t tell him about the kiss. “Marry him?” She let out a huff, “How dare he?! Has he gone mental to even think he can come into our house and bait us-“

“No no listen” Tony interrupted her before she was about to mirror the exact reaction he had from when he first found out about it. “I went to the accountants last night and they went through it. The dynamics of it—they said it is a golden deal.”

Oh. The fact that he was taking this in consideration and not ridicule and offence just sinked in. But she could not fathom it, “Are you asking…” the proposition was so ghastly to even say it in a sentence she just tailed off in implication.

“I don’t know if I am.” Tony said honestly because he had the same feelings on saying that out loud. Asking her to marry Rupert Campbell Black? “It’s a bad way out of this, it seems to be our only one.”

“What are you saying-?!” She exclaimed as she stood up from her seat in shock and disgust, “are you serious uncle? Rupert? Rupert?! Of all people? Rupert Campbell Black?” She scoffed speaking out her distress all in one breath “That man?”

“There is no need to panic like this I wouldn’t force you to even breathe in his direction let alone marry him if you don’t want to.” Tony assured her standing up with her and he walked across the space to get her a glass of water. “You have worked on this, you know what’s at stake and what else are our options.”

She took the water he offered her and gulped the full glass all at once to ease the nerves, “I know, I understand I know we don’t have time even, but” she let out a heavy breath even repeating that man’s name again felt like saying a slur. “This is-this is ridiculous!”

“You my darling are the first born of this family.” He told her putting a hand on her shoulder reassuringly “I would never want you to marry someone you don’t want to let alone that swine. You are worth a fortune for me alright? I have never asked anything of you all your life and I’m not even asking for this. I just want you to be open to it”

“But he’s Rupert!” She let out an exasperated sigh and moved away from him, pacing back and forth “If I marry him I’d never be able to show my face anywhere” she said considering that ugly life.

“This pains me more than it does you but he is not, not-reputable” he briefed her trying to provide whatever consolation.

"I don’t mean here" she said with an exasperated sigh running a hand through her hair. "I have friends everywhere but this place, honest, educated people. They would look down upon me if I was Mrs Campbell Black." It was more than a horror to loose even more people she could call her own. The city colleagues, people she trained with, went to university with. Forward minded new deal politics people would discontinue friendship with the conservative MP's wife.

"You will always have us though and you do have friends here, work, Corinium, you do have plenty." Tony explained, what seemed to be a big concern for her wasn't as dreadful for him. After all she had never given him a reason to think she considered countryside to be a small pond.

"It’s nowhere close" she muttered well aware she would not be able to get this point across.Besides she did have lots of other concerns to dwell upon "He is infuriating, a deceit, a hedonist and he is so much older!' She did not intend to let that come out as a whine.

"You do not have to clarify that to me, I have spent more years loathing him than you have seen winters." The godfather in him anguished more than he empathised with her. It was beyond understandable that it was only his disdain which had seeped through her due to all the right reasons which would make this even harder for her.

“My life would be over." Words couldn't put front just how much of dread occupied her heart and mind to even consider this.

"You know this doesn't have to be permanent. At all." He plotted in a low tone providing her actual theory to look forward to "Two years and you can divorce him. Our funds would be steady, the new earnings would be consistent and we can drop him like dead meat."

With a sharp intake of breath she thought his words over, that could be so. Knowing Rupert his own whim wouldn't last that long. "Two years maximum?" She asked for reassurance as she sat back down on the chair.

"Maximum." He confirmed positively mirroring her seating. "Consider him a means to an end. Two years is all I ask from you and then you can always marry a boy of your choice again!" All I ask from you y/n, his words echoes with the same blend of plea and demand of his tone.

She had felt this undertone of owing her godfather woven fragments in the tapestry of her life. He had raised her, like her own, it is only fair she repays it with her life however she can. Most days he felt hyperaware of the debt in her emotions, her unsaid obligation he did not feel like putting out like a house fire but raising more like a forest fire. She had started to feel this weight as she grew more sentient and emotionally mature, the weight grew more and he never bothered to tell her otherwise. A price for a parental figure she felt like paying for, pursuing careers he told her to, leading a life he asked her to. Neither him nor Monica ever made her feel a void in place for a childhood. She could say it was blissful and healthy despite of the tragedy. Tony articulated sense of purpose for her, she abided. Always. Forever bound to gratitude. "Ultimately this is your choice, if you refuse to the marriage we wont have this conversation again. You have my word."

You can always get another degree of your choice! You can always marry a boy of your choice again! Over and over and over twice the time for twice the decisions because she had to live it up for two people. Herself and her godfather. It was barely an illusion of choice, her uncle was not a level heeded man when cornered. If not today, next week when, if not then when the third notice comes in, that is when he would loose his composure and she knew him well enough to see that.

With a day or two to her demise and battling against the circumstance, there wasn’t even any other road to not be taken. The universe had put forth one and only one way out of this and it was an incomprehensible burden to carry. A simple, “Alright then, Rupert it is.” And the wedding bells rang like an alarm in a troubled country. Tony rushed to inform Rupert of it in the very same day not even an hour of time difference since she agreed. To have a second thought himself or offer her more guidance and a space to change her mind which she so desperately wanted to. There was no time, they had more than just wedding to make arrangements for.

Her godfather had asked y/n if she were to join him in informing Rupert of her acceptance but she abruptly refused. Which was understandable, why would she endure the man in optional settings. Tony didn’t force her on attending for now anyways, she was doing a lot in retrospect.

However the exchange left Rupert with an unsure and skeptical attitude to the lady’s willingness when she did not come with her uncle to relay her answer. It felt rather strange and knowing Tony he would most definitely answer for his niece and then force her to the outcome he wanted. So he decided to take matters into his own hands to cross check.

Somewhat late in the night post dinner as the countryside fell quiet to the crickets and nightly mist. Easily making his way through the estates he calculated exact space to her room by standing right below it. Unaware that a heartbroken y/n was lying in bed listening to her vinyls trying to angst out the gradual foreseen depression with music. She missed the pebbles clashing on her balcony door. It was only when their amount grew and the feeble sounds became frequent that she was pulled out of her horror-dreaming trance of envisioning her upcoming life. She pulled the needle off the vinyl and turned away from the record player to inspect over the balcony. Hugging her cardigan closer to herself as she was exposed to the chill November air outside of her room. She lowered her gaze to inspect where the direction of the small stones that lay around her balcony. That is when she saw Rupert halfway through the tree adjoining her balcony. “What are you doing?” She asked as her eyes widened and her face fell at its sight. He was rather swift with his movements and study grip over the old tree and then he jumped off to the side, then the pipe, a bit too much of sturdy gymnastics and she was more freaked out than concerned or amazed. “Have you lost your mind-?!” She was whisper yelling as she looked back to her room to see if someone was there to interrupt this madness.

He managed to climb up to her balcony. Leaning on the railing from the outside as she distance herself, catching a breath creating a winter fog. He smiled through panting out his determination, swaying his leg across the railing as he made his way into her balcony. “I would have come through the main door but you ignored my calling.” He said referring to the small stones laid around them, in the wake of his attempt to catch her attention.

“What is wrong with you!” She exclaimed knowing well enough that there was plenty, “what if you had ended up on the wrong balcony.”

“I did. Your cousins, the children. They directed me here.” He said plainly as if he were to end up at any other room would be a horror for him. Nothing fortified his will more than what his heart desired “I wanted to see you.”

“At this hour?” Making her away inside to her room given it was unbearably cold outside for just one layer which she’d worn. She was in no mood to cater to his stunt but he followed her inside and she did not refuse him anyways.

“You could have come to meet me yourself today, when your uncle did.” He said with a shrug, closing the door behind his hands. Rupert wanted to cross check if she even knew that Tony had visited him today to affect his proposal.

“I didn’t want to then and I don’t want to now.” She spoke with an alerted and agitated look on her face. Alert to look out for any noise outside of her room, concerned footsteps if they heard conversation from her room in the dead of the night.

“Has he even told you?” Rupert said with a scoff, he was more confident over the fact that Tony would have said yes to their marriage for his self serving ways and not even considered her. It couldn’t possibly be that she herself couldn’t be bothered to visit him herself to give her ‘yes.’

“Told me what?” Bemused look on her face, unsure that there was more information for her uncle to withhold from her.

“Unbelievable…” he scoffed putting his hands on his hips as he looked around and then back to her, “just as I thought. He came to visit me today to tell me you accept the marriage proposal.”

“I know that” she answered with a unfazed look on her face, not even of sorrow or remorse. “He told me he was going” hell, even lady monica wanted to go with a proper basket and celebratory essence of it but it was neither celebratory nor familial so she did not attend.

“And you did not deem it necessary to come?” He was surprised to say at least, blissfully unaware to a large extent of her despise towards him he thought it was all to change after the kiss, not spike overnight of course. But aren’t some things sealed with a kiss?

“I do not have to endure you a second longer than actually required, why would I go voluntarily?” She raised obvious brows at her reasoning not taken aback by his assumptions and extractions of her attendance.

“The way you are marrying me voluntarily.” He reminded and also questioned to confirm if it was a voluntary step or not.

“I am trying to save my family’s fortune voluntarily.” Y/n rephrased the proposition, that is what she told herself too. It was his scrutiny towards her for not accepting his proposal herself which threw her off, in her house in her own room was this man making her out to be answerable to him. “What are you even here for? Out!” She said pointing to the balcony door again, her aunt was a light sleeper anyways she wouldn’t risk that.

“I wanted to confirm if you weren’t being forced into anything.” He responded truthfully however it seemed like his integrity held account for something so small in her eyes.

“Well now you have.” Answering his illogical concern she shrugged, she wasn’t being forced but at the same time whose choice would be Rupert. “You can leave.”

“So you will marry me.” He said plainly wanting a real answer where she would not just brush it off. Taking a step closer to her gently taking her hands in his.

If he was being so direct she could not rephrase the situation, arranged setting, business deal, financial consequence, “this is a violation.” She said gesturing to him holding her hand and took it away.

“Violation like when you kissed me.” Rupert said with his usual smug, grin and he could see the buttons being pushed in her head.

“That was a mistake.” An obvious agitation was not the blush he expected. “As is the marriage I’m telling you. I’m miserable as it is you will lose your mind. This truly is a big mistake.”

“A mistake I’m rather fond of.” He dismissed her paranoid concerns and fragile self perception. “We will find our footing.”

“What if I don’t that want with you.” She told him crossing her arms always panning out the worst but she did feel that way, at least show she thought she did.

“Then I will wait.” Ever so confident he could make so much work with her, it was beyond infatuation and also her understanding just how much he was capable of in his want and yearn.

“I won’t change my mind.” She told him firmly and in all truthfulness to put out the flames of affection and domesticity he may expect from her.

“And what of your heart, my love?” He asked further, more straws from him to grasp on and the straw was her heart. How inconveniently determined.

“I am not your love.” She affirmed bringing her brows together as a response to her unaccounted detest to the word.

“My bride.” Rupert added an option to her being his to a certain configuration whichever she found befitting.

“—Not yet.”

“Fiancé then?”

“That generally requires a ring.” She would much rather have a stone drown her down a stream than a stone on her finger which symbolises being his.

“Oh does it?” He asked nonchalantly as if he had something brewing, he certainly did. He reached out for his pocket bringing out a small red box.

“God no” she sighed as she realised what it was without him even opening it. There was a ridicule in the tragedy of this situation.

Getting on his knee, slowly, he opened the box and his eyes never left his bride, “will you-“

“There is no need for this dramatics this is simply a business arrangement and a finance-“

“Do you ever shut up?” He interrupted her still from his place situated on one knee.

“I should just shut up and marry you?” Going in for her turn to not-shut-up she said in between spaces of his sentences which caused him to revert what he was going to add.

“Shut up and marry me” he nodded, despite of his assurances she was so headstrong and stubborn. There was more a logic in a sentence so simple than further explanation.

There was more to the question than just marriage and him. Fragments of obligation, dutiful girl’s perfect life and her godfather’s generosities upon her. But in moments like these, the kiss, him climbing a tree to her balcony in the middle of the knight, the kiss, him wanting to reassure her despite her coldness, the kiss, him down on one for her, the kiss…the damned kiss. Taking the ring out of the box she but it on her finger in a swift motion only so he would stand up.

Rupert wanted that part to be intimate and his, but this is the closest to that he could get with a possibility of having her throw the ring on his grinning face. He didn’t want to take any chances. “Suits you.” He stood up staring at his ring on her finger.

“Farewell then…” she trailed off not wanting to feel the ill fabricated heavy emotions of his close proximity. As he was about to turn to her door out the room she stopped, getting in his track. “Not from there! The balcony” she pointed, her aunt was a light sleeper he ought to go out the way he came.

“How come? I will just use the main door it’s the same distance.” He answered unaware of her concerns of wrongness in his presence at the mansion this late.

“You can’t do that someone will find out you were here!” She exclaimed shaking her head.

“And? Your uncle has already put forth your terms of wanting a separate room, separate bed after marriage it’s not as if we would be having pre marital sex” he huffed at the sanctimonious assumption, jokingly implying she cared for the sort. She was too modern and he was too adulterated for that. However them not doing it had several other reasons, mainly her.

“Even post marital sex with you is far from dreams please don’t get ahead of yourself” she scoffed. He was pompous with the amount he’d bedded and could do so which repelled her even more to share a ‘marriage bed’ with him. He wouldn’t force himself on her so she did not specify that, it was an obvious boundary. It’s just his ballon of pride she wanted to guest perhaps over and over again.

“Afraid you’ll like it? Just like the kiss?” He knew the kiss was a tingling subject for her and he misused it full to his advantage.

“Get out!” Running out of replies she realised she did not owe him any. Feebly shoving him towards the balcony finally made him give in.

“Alright alright” he sighed standing halfway out the balcony door smiling the entire time. Before his exit he placed a gentle peck on the side of her face and made his way out, the same gymnasium of tree lunges and balcony railing. “Good night, my love!”

Already repulsed by his kiss the last words irked her further “not your love!” closing the door and curtains to the balcony on him at once she returned back inside to the disrupted serenity of her room. The music long abandoned she fell on the bed again, rethinking the interaction and overanalysing her thoughts.

Looking down at the ring on her finger, the more she looked the more it seemed to weigh and she had barely slept enough on the fact that she was getting married to Rupert Campbell Black. She couldn’t sleep in his ring.

Removing it from her finger to the bedside table she turned off the lamp to match the dark phase of her life. With a sigh hoping for sleep or morning, whichever outruns her thoughts.

—

Next part is the wedding and you’re all invited ;) please let me know your thoughts in the comments it really motivates me

Series list!

🏷️ @playbucky @theoceanandthestars @omgbrianab @melancholicandmessy @nebulastarr @sarahsobsession

[andy-15-07]

Victory's Embrace

masterlist ! pairing Feyd-Rautha x reader

SUMMARY : Feyd and Y/n are engaged and Feyd is fighting in the arena and he wins , Y/n , his fiance is going to him to congrats

DUNE Masterlist

The air in the arena was charged with anticipation as Feyd-Rautha stepped into the center, his muscles tense and his eyes sharp with focus. The crowd roared with excitement, their cheers echoing off the stone walls as they eagerly awaited the start of the fight.

Y/N stood among the spectators, her heart pounding with nervous anticipation as she watched her fiancé prepare for battle. Feyd's skills in combat were unmatched, but the arena was a dangerous place, and Y/N couldn't help but worry for his safety.

As the fight began, Feyd moved with lightning speed, his movements fluid and precise as he dodged his opponent's attacks and delivered blows of his own. The crowd cheered with every strike, their excitement building with each passing moment.

Y/N watched with bated breath as Feyd fought with skill and determination, his every move calculated and precise. She knew that he was a formidable opponent, but the arena was unforgiving, and one wrong move could cost him everything.

But as the battle raged on, it became clear that Feyd was the superior fighter. With a final, decisive blow, he defeated his opponent, sending him crashing to the ground in defeat.

The crowd erupted into cheers as Feyd emerged victorious, his chest heaving with exertion as he raised his arms in triumph. Y/N's heart swelled with pride as she watched him bask in the adulation of the crowd, her love for him shining bright in her eyes.

As the cheers died down, Y/N made her way down to the arena floor, her heart pounding with nervous excitement as she approached Feyd. He turned to her, his face lighting up with a smile as he saw her approaching.

"Feyd, you were incredible," Y/N said, her voice filled with admiration as she reached out to take his hand. "I'm so proud of you."

Feyd's smile widened at her words, his eyes shining with happiness as he pulled her into his arms. "Thank you, my love," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "I couldn't have done it without you by my side."

As they stood together in the center of the arena, surrounded by the cheers of the crowd, Y/N felt a surge of love and affection for Feyd. Despite the dangers of the arena, despite the challenges they faced, their love had only grown stronger with each passing day.

And as they held each other close, basking in the glow of Feyd's victory, Y/N knew that no matter what the future held, as long as they were together, they could overcome anything that came their way.

With a smile, she leaned in to press a kiss to Feyd's lips, her heart overflowing with love and happiness as she savored the moment. In that moment, surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the warmth of Feyd's embrace, Y/N knew that she was exactly where she belonged.

[writingwisterias]

Movie Nights

Leon Kenndey x Reader (Use's Fem pronouns)

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff! Girl Dad Leon Summary: Leon returns home to his girls who have built a fort and prepared a movie night (I thought of DI! Leon but any will do!)

Leon's keys were loud as he fiddled with the front door, your little girl giggled in your arms - the sound attempted to be muted with your hand over her mouth. Your own giggles threaten to spill as you watch her excitement. "Girls?" Leon's voice thundered through the house. Normally his baby girl would have bounded through the home, racing as fast as she could to launch herself into his arms. But there wasn't the sound of her footsteps slapping against the wood or her distant giggles from wherever she was in the house. His heartbeat quickened slightly panic trying to worm his way into his chest.

You both could hear his footsteps around the house, his biker boots thumping as he checked every room. You both giggled at the loud thud as they came to a stop at the doorway of the room you were in. Leon smiled at the sight of the fairy lights that gave the room a warm glow, only muted by the numerous bedsheets that covered the room creating a fort. His sigh was audible as he freed it, his anxiety now settling; the action making you feel guilty for insisting your little girl hid to scare him. "I wonder where my girl has gone" he chuckled, his words dramatised for effect. Leon's heart swelled as his daughter bounded out of the sheets, starfishing before him as she released the tiniest scream. The intention was to scare him but not trigger any of his PTSD that lingered after all his years of service. He pretended to jump, flinching away dramatically; holding a hand to his chest as he pretended to catch his breath.

You watched as they hugged each other, Leon's frame engulfing hers as he held her. Breathing in the sweet smell of the cheap body mist she insisted he bought her last week, she chirped, "Welcome home, daddy," she chirped in his chest. He muttered his own welcome, the sound muffled in her blonde hair. So, what's going on here, then pumpkin?" he asked her, pointing at the fort before them. The small girl giggled, "Mommy made us a fort to watch movies"

Leon smiled when he saw you, his eyes sparkingly with admiration as he saw your grin. "Did she now? I see you both have your Pj's on" He replied, his fingers rubbing against the soft fabric as he held her. She nodded, her hair flying all over her face as more giggles filled the room. This was why Leon kept fighting, in hopes he could protect the innocence of his little girl; to hide her from all the horrors of the world. "Yes! You have to wear them too or no cookies" She demanded, her little fingers poking his chest to prove her point. "Is that the rules?" He laughed. "No PJs - No cookies....no homemade cookies" You teased, a smile plastered on your features. Leon groaned but complied guiding his daughter back to you as he left to change.

He loved being sandwiched in the middle of the both of you. His little girl resting her head on his lap as she watched the same Disney princess movie, his heart melted every time he heard her voice sing along. Your head rested against his shoulder, your hands entwined as you took in this small little bubble, the fluffy blankets a cushions making it cosy and safe away from everything else if just but a moment. Leon never thought he would get the chance to have this, assuming her would be worked to the bone or drink himself to death. But since finding you, the speed dial on his motorbike lowered, and the levels in all the bottles never dropped, and finally home seemed more welcoming. Even if he did find pink glitter on all of his shirts, the specks sticking to his work boots. His laptop was covered in Disney-themed stickers; his head was constantly filled with that one annoying song he could never get rid of. He wouldn't change it for anything though- this is what he wanted; all tucked away safely in a fort....with Elsa serenading them.

[hoe4hotchner]

Chapter 6 - Fractured trust

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x figure skater (fem)!Reader

Summary: The story follows you a figure skater training for nationals and Aaron Hotchner as your lives intertwine during an investigation into the abductions of young athletic women, including the your close friend, Leah. As the BAU delves deeper into the case, you find yourself captivated by Hotch’s quiet strength and protective presence. When Leah’s body is tragically discovered at the rink, the tension escalates, surrounding you in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Blood, murder, death, suicide, grief, guilt and confusion. Heavy themes. Reader is a little delulu

A/N: Hotch is a very professional man and therefor doesn't get horny on the job, but there's a part somewhere where he definitely has a mental boner. You'll understand later. ;)

For the record, this was written before Liam Payne died… but some of the feelings are very relevant for a lot of people right now.

Masterlist

The lights overhead flickered briefly, casting long shadows across the conference table where the team had gathered for the night. The quiet hum of the overhead lamps mixed with the steady tap of Garcia’s fingers flying across her keyboard filled the air. The sound was almost rhythmic. Her brightly painted nails moved with such speed and precision that would leave anyone besides the BAU silently in awe. Each tap felt like a countdown, pulling more and more information to the surface.

Garcia’s monitor was a chaotic spread of files, timelines, and news clippings. Photos of Thomas Mercer in his prime, dressed in sparkly costumes, flashed alongside detailed records of his skating career: a golden boy once destined for the Olympics, now reduced to tragedy — one of the headlines wrote. His once-promising future was chronicled in the endless stream of reports and interviews — headlines of victories, discussions where his potential was praised, and then, the downfall — the dreaded downfall of Mercer. The articles began to shift in tone, highlighting his short temper instead of his extraordinary skating techniques, the scandal at his final competition, and the career-ending outburst that left him blacklisted from ever competing within the skating world again.

Hotch paced slowly near the head of the table, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, the tension in his movements mirroring the weight of the case. His steps were methodical, like he was trying to unravel the complexities of the case with each circuit he made around the room. Occasionally, his sharp gaze would fix on Garcia, brows furrowed, his expression intense and unreadable. If it had been anyone else, that look might have felt like a warning — but his team knew him better. It wasn’t frustration aimed at them; it was his way of focusing, of dissecting every piece of information being fed to him.

Garcia was used to his demeanor. Her fingers never faltered as they danced across the keyboard, pulling file after file from the databases, cross-referencing details, and hacking through the sea of data in front of her. Each time she uncovered something relevant, Hotch’s eyes would dart to the screen, laser-focused as if willing the information to form the missing link he was looking for.

“Here’s another record,” Garcia murmured, scrolling through a dense report. She highlighted sections as she spoke, she was calm, but the urgency in her words was unmistakable by the tempo of her voice. “Mercer’s last known address was right outside Arlington — it seems he moved there a few months after that competition — Before he went completely off the grid, he had several altercations with other skaters, coaches… even some journalists. It looks like his rage wasn't limited to just the rink.” Garcia looked up from her screen, waiting for Hotch's thoughts about her findings — or perhaps just his next request for information.

Hotch paused his pacing, his eyes narrowing on the paragraph displayed on the screen as he processed her words. His arms remained crossed, tension building in his shoulders. “Anything from the past few months? Any signs of contact with anyone involved in the case? Or sightings of him?”

Garcia shook her head, pulling up a timeline of Mercer’s movements. “No Sir, nothing recent. The last confirmed interaction with any of the skaters from the pavilion we have is almost five years old, just before his disappearance.”

The rest of the team sat quietly, reviewing the profile. There was a sense of anticipation in the room. They knew Hotch well enough to recognize when he was locked onto something, and right now, that something was Thomas Mercer. Despite your gut feeling — your firm belief that Mercer wasn’t the guy — Hotch wasn’t about to let his name fade from their investigation without turning over every possible stone.

Morgan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he rubbed his face, he looked tired — but it was understandable, none of them had slept much the past couple of weeks. “Any chance he stayed around the Virginia area after the incident?”

Garcia's fingers paused for a second, listening to his question, before resuming their dance across the keyboard. Her tone shifted slightly, more somber than their usual banter. “Actually, no,” she replied, her gaze fixed on the screen. “After his last public appearance in New York, Mercer packed up and left. Looks like he was hoping for a fresh start somewhere else.” She sighed softly, skimming the news article further. “He tried to rebuild his career in Chicago, then moved through a few other cities in the Midwest, but nothing ever stuck in seems. No coach wanted to take the risk on him again after what happened.”

JJ’s brow furrowed as she considered the information, her motherly instincts confused and sad for Mercer. “He didn’t have anyone to help him? No family, or friends? Someone he could've turned?”

Garcia shook her head with a frown on her face as she opened another file. “Not that I can see. His family didn’t seem too involved, at least not after he spiraled. His mother passed away when he was young, and he bounced between his grandparents and father's house. No close friends from what I can tell, either. Most people distanced themselves after his temper started ruining things.” She grimaced, scanning through more of his records. “By the time he left Virginia, Mercer was pretty much on his own.”

Morgan rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly, he couldn't quite figure out why they weren't seeking him out yet. “So, he’s isolated, burned every bridge, and has no support system. Ding ding ding, that's our unsub! Can we go get him now so we can wrap this case up?”

Garcia hesitated, and then her voice softened even further. “That's not exactly the case I fear. He didn’t snap, at least not in the way we’d expect." She took a deep breath, mostly bracing herself to say the words in front of her, at least more so than she was preparing the team for the grim news. "He took his own life six months ago. The last record of him was an obituary. Suicide by overdose.”

A heavy silence settled over the room, they all knew what this meant for the investigation. The team exchanged glances, the weight of the revelation sinking in.

Morgan sighed, shaking his head. “So, we can rule him out as the unsub. I guess it's back to the drawing board then.” Hotch could tell that Morgan wasn't happy, debating whether or not he should send his team home for some well-deserved rest. He could after all just continue the investigation himself — at least now that they were back to square one. 3 dead bodies and a profile with no matches.

Hotch nodded slowly, his expression was just as tired as the rest of the team's as he processed the information given. "His anger could’ve influenced someone else. If someone was close enough to him and shared his views on Leah, they could be carrying out his vendetta in his place — that's if Leah was the target all along."

Hotch’s eyes darkened, his mind already working through the next steps. “We need to look into anyone who was still in contact with him, anyone who might’ve followed him when he moved. Friends, training partners, anyone who sympathized with his situation.” His gaze moved from the screen to the team as he pinched his nose for a brief moment. He exhaled, the weight of the revelation about Mercer hanging in the air. “We’ve done enough for tonight,” he then said, his voice was low — he too sounded tired. “Go home, get some rest. I’ll handle the next steps from here.”

Morgan furrowed his brow, glancing at the chaos of files scattered all across the table. Papers were everywhere — profiles, crime scene photos, timelines — forming a disorganized sea of details that he couldn't quite make head or tail of, each file more confusing than the next.

The weight of the case had long since seeped into other aspects of their lives, thickening the air with fatigue and frustration everywhere they went. They all knew it had become increasingly more personal to Hotch, even if he didn't want to admit it — they all knew just why he wouldn't let this one rest. Maybe even let some of the B-team agents take over the less crucial parts of the profile to catch the killer quicker.

Morgan’s eyes scanned the scene before letting his eyes rest on Hotch, concern etching deeper into his expression. “You sure, Hotch?” Morgan could tell how exhausted Hotch was, maybe even more exhausted than the rest of them combined. “We can stay — there’s still work to be done.”

Hotch shook his head. “We’ve hit a wall for now, and pushing through it while we’re all running on fumes won’t help. Besides—” Hotch hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have a very uncomfortable visit to make to the ice pavilion.”

Emily looked at him, catching onto what he wasn’t saying. “You mean Y/N?”

Hotch’s expression tightened his mouth a firm line as he gave a short, confirming nod. “I have to inform her about Mercer.” His voice was quiet but resolute. He wasn’t just delivering bad news; he was about to shatter your childhood star, one he could tell you had clung to despite his downfall, and that knowledge clearly weighed on him.

The gust of cold air hit Hotch the moment he pushed through the heavy doors of the pavilion, the chill biting a little at his skin despite his overcoat. He pulled it a little tighter around him. His breath formed small clouds in front of him, dispersing into the open space of the arena.

The rink was mostly silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigeration system and the sharp sound of your skates gliding over the ice. He stood still for a moment, scanning the pristine stage of glistening ice. He was searching for a sign — a sign of danger, any sign really.

Most of the non-competing athletes had been relocated to another arena for the duration of the investigation, the once busy rink now lay eerily quiet without the usual crowd of skaters and coaches filling up the space. The echo of several skates cutting into the ice no longer mingled with laughter, casual conversation, or the occasional shouted instructions. Instead, it felt like the ice itself had absorbed the tension hanging in the air.

Only the top few competitors, including yourself, had been granted permission to continue practicing on the rink’s grounds, a privilege meant to ensure that the investigation didn’t interfere with your training schedules. But the shift in the atmosphere was undeniable. What used to feel like home, a place to push yourself to new limits, to hang out with your peers, now felt cold and deserted — a place where shadows lurked, and each practice session was haunted by the weight of what had happened to Leah — and what could happen to you.

The decision to allow only a select few skaters to remain was both a practical and psychological one. It ensured that the competition-ready athletes didn’t falter in their rigorous training, but it also placed a heavy burden on those left behind. Hotch had fought tooth and nail with the local authorities to completely close the rink, but in the end, had to realize that his energy was better spent elsewhere.

For those who remained, every glide on the ice carried the memory of Leah’s absence, you had all known her on a deeper level that the newbies and even the simple act of lacing up skates had become a reminder of her.

You were midair, your body twisting gracefully as you rotated, the fabric of your skirt rippling like water in the air. Time seemed to slow down as Hotch’s eyes locked onto you. The elegance and precision of your movement were captivating in their own mystical way — each twist, each turn measured perfectly. Every muscle in your body was taut with control and power, your focus undisturbed, completely immersed in the flow of your routine.

It was a stark contrast to the tension and unease that swirled in his mind every time he stepped into the pavilion. Here, in your element, there was no sign of the fear or darkness that had invaded your life once you stepped off the ice. Yet, even in the grace of your movements, Hotch knew he carried the weight of a truth that would shatter that fleeting peace.

For a split second, you seemed weightless, suspended in the air, and all Hotch could focus on was how serene and beautiful you looked in that moment — completely absorbed in your world. He hated that he had to break the news to you.

His eyes lingered on the way your dress for sectionals shimmered under the lights, the deep navy-blue fabric hugging your body perfectly, adorned with rhinestones that glittered like stars with every movement. He had never seen you in any of your costumes before, but he vividly remembered the day you had received it in the mail. You had practically dragged JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia into the bullpen to where you had dropped your gym bag, the three of them laughing with joy as you carefully unfolded the dress to show it off. You had huddled together like sisters, fingers tracing over the intricate details of the rhinestones and the delicate stitching, voices bubbling with excitement.

Hotch had caught snippets of the conversation — Emily had been the first to compliment the open back, her eyes widening as she had called it a “showstopper,” while JJ teased you about how you’d have to skate like you were wearing a galaxy. Garcia, of course, had been the most enthusiastic, gasping dramatically and insisting that the dress was “fit for a queen,” urging you to take a thousand photos and videos once you had it on.

It was one of those rare moments in the BAU office where the weight of their work seemed to lift, and he had watched from a distance, quietly amused by the way you all fussed over the dress like it was something sacred. But he guessed this was just a part of the girlhood Garcia once had tried to teach him about.

Seeing you now in it, gliding effortlessly across the ice, each rhinestone reflecting the rink's bright lights like a cascade of stars, he realized the ladies had been right — it truly was a showstopper. Every movement you made transformed the dress into a spectacle of grace, and Hotch found himself mesmerized, momentarily forgetting the heavy news he carried.

The sheer sleeves, dotted with delicate stones, gave an ethereal sparkle to your arms, and the open back added a touch of exposure to your elegance. As you glided across the ice, the dress moved effortlessly with you, enhancing every leap, every graceful spin. Hotch couldn't help but admire how the dress seemed to be an extension of you, amplifying the beauty of your performance.

For a moment, he felt a pang of regret — how could he shatter this peaceful moment with the weight of what he had to say? But he had no choice — you had to know. It was only right.

Time seemed to slow as he kept looking at you. The way you moved, jumped, and spun, and the way your body suspended in the air for brief moments, was like a work of art. Everything about it — the precision, the grace, the sheer effortlessness — was fascinating.

Hotch found himself momentarily lost, watching the way your arms extended, the way your muscles seemed to work in perfect harmony with the ice beneath you. You were beautiful and elegant, in complete control of your world out there.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the sound of your skates hitting the ice after another spin brought him back to reality. A sharp crack echoed through the rink as the blade made contact, and you smoothly landed the jump, coming out of it with the practiced ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. His chest tightened, not only with admiration but with the heavy knowledge of the danger you were unknowingly still in.

You spotted Hotch at the edge of the rink, leaning slightly against the boards with his elbows resting on top of them. A small smile tugged at your lips, and without missing a beat in your routine, you gave him a little wave before gliding toward him with effortless grace. As you neared him, the tension he had been carrying all day seemed to ease, if only for a moment.

When you reached the edge of the rink, you came to a graceful stop, the ice dust spraying lightly from beneath your skates. You leaned casually on the boards, still slightly breathless from your routine, your cheeks flushed from exertion but truthfully, some of it was accredited to Hotch's presence.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice was soft as you tilted your head slightly with a curious smile. "I wasn’t expecting you to stop by." Your chest heaved with deep breaths as you slowly started regulating your breathing.

For a split second, Hotch found himself captivated by the lightness in your tone and the relaxed nature of your stance. You looked so peaceful. He hesitated, but the weight of his responsibility crashed back to him, but for just a few seconds longer, he allowed himself to linger in the relief he saw reflected in your eyes.

Hotch's lips quirked into a small, almost imperceptible smile. Despite his attempt at a warm greeting, the tension in his face didn’t fade, and it was clear something was pressing heavily on his mind. “I came to see how you were holding up... and to talk. We’ve made some progress.”

You nodded slowly, already suspecting where this conversation was headed. As you caught your breath, you peeled off your gloves, the cold bite of the air clinging to your skin for a moment before you grabbed your jacket and shoved them into the pocket.

"Let me guess — it’s about Mercer?" You tried to keep your tone neutral, but the underlying tension in your voice was unmistakable. Your brows furrowed slightly as you looked at him more closely, scanning his face for any indication of what he was about to say.

There was something about the way Hotch stood in front of you, the stiffness in his posture, the way he seemed to be choosing his words carefully, that made your stomach twist with apprehension — something was wrong. You could sense it.

You already knew. It had to be about Mercer. And yet, a part of you desperately hoped that it wasn’t. Maybe it was something else, someone else, something less personal and something easier to hear. But the serious glint in Hotch’s eyes told you otherwise, and as much as you wanted to delay the inevitable, you couldn’t avoid it. Not anymore.

His eyes softened, knowing this part of the conversation wasn’t going to be easy. He could tell that you wanted answers just as much as they did, but for now, he had to share the news that might complicate things even more.

 “Can we sit down?” Hotch asked, gesturing toward the bleachers with a seriousness that made your stomach tighten further.

You nodded, your heart racing as you stepped off the ice. As you pulled on your jacket, the fabric felt like a flimsy barrier against the chill in the air. You walked beside him, each step echoing the moment. When you reached the bleachers, the cold wood bit through the skirt of your costume, sending a shiver up your spine as you sank onto the hard surface.

“What is it?” you asked, anxiety bubbling up in your chest.

Hotch exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening as if bracing himself for your reaction. “It’s about Mercer.”

Your heartbeat quickened, echoing in your ears like a drum. “What about him?” The mention of Mercer had a way of igniting your instincts for the worse.

“He... we found out that Mercer moved away from Virginia after his career took a hit,” Hotch began slowly, his gaze fixed on you as he carefully watched your reaction. Each word seemed to hang heavy in the air. “He tried to restart somewhere else, several times, but they didn’t work out for him. A few months after that, he... took his own life.” Hotch paused, waiting for your reaction.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the shock sending your mind spiraling into chaos. “What?” you blinked rapidly, struggling to grasp the gravity of what he was saying. The words felt surreal, as if they belonged to some distant reality you couldn’t quite comprehend. “No, you’re lying,” you stammered, shaking your head in disbelief, the denial instinctively rising within you. “That can’t be true.” The thought of Mercer — someone you had looked up to, someone whose struggles had seemed so distant for the past couple of years — now felt like an insurmountable reality crashing down around you. Confusion mingled with grief, leaving you reeling as you fought to process the enormity of his loss.

You sat there, numbness spreading through your limbs as Hotch’s words echoed in your mind. How could someone who had once been so vibrant and talented reach such a devastating conclusion? The reality of his absence felt like a punch to the gut, leaving you gasping for air in the wake of an unthinkable tragedy.

Hotch didn’t say anything. He just held your gaze, his eyes filled with a sadness that seemed to resonate deeply within you. Although his sadness wasn't from Mercer, he couldn't care less about whether Mercer was dead or alive.

You stared at him, waiting for him to say something — anything — that would make it all make sense. You needed him to tell you that he was lying, to offer a glimmer of hope, some explanation that could ease the weight of reality. But he didn’t. He didn’t have to. The truth was written plainly in the way he looked at you, and it hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and reeling.

“No… no, no, no,” you muttered, talking more to yourself than to him. “That doesn’t make any sense. I don’t… I don’t understand. He’s supposed to be…” The words tangled on your tongue, each syllable feeling heavy as your thoughts spiraled, struggling to catch up with the overwhelming truth. “How could I not know this?” Your voice broke in a whisper of disbelief. “How—”

You felt tears welling up, blurring your vision as the reality of the situation pressed down harder. It was as if the ground had fallen away beneath your feet. Memories of Mercer flooded your mind — moments you had taken for granted now twisted into reminders of what was lost. The guilt settled on your shoulders, heavy and suffocating, as you grappled with the haunting question of how someone like him could slip away without a trace.

Hotch’s hand found its way to your knee, his grip gentle but firm, grounding you in the moment as the world around you felt like it was slipping away. He didn’t say anything; words seemed inadequate in the face of such sorrow like nothing he would say would help. Yet, the warmth of his hand was enough. His presence was enough. It felt like an anchor in the stormy sea of your emotions, and it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart and shattering completely.

You wiped at your face, desperately trying to collect yourself, but the tears kept coming, each drop a testament to the pain that surged through you. The truth of Mercer’s loss felt like a dark cloud. You fought against the rising tide of grief, knowing you had to hold on.

The atmosphere in the BAU had shifted dramatically as the investigation dragged on. Each passing day brought new leads and new revelations, and with them came the undeniable sense that the stakes were rising with every hour. You could feel the pressure mounting, pressing down on your chest, leaving little room to breathe every time Hotch called you in to consult on anything related to the pavilion or figure skating.

The latest briefing had peeled back another layer of the investigation, revealing unsettling details about the unsub’s profile that sent shivers down your spine. The pieces were falling into place, but nothing had fully prepared you for what lay ahead.

When Hotch called you a couple of days later to witness an interrogation, you felt a surge of unease. You hadn’t expected to find yourself standing on the other side of a one-way mirror, watching someone you once respected face the full force of the BAU’s investigation.

Hotch’s intense interrogation techniques were on full display, each question designed to unearth the truth buried beneath layers of possible deceit. You watched intently as he leaned in, his voice commanding as it cut through the defiance of the suspect. It was a side of him you hadn't seen before, but witnessing it so closely now felt unsettling, especially knowing the personal dots connecting you further and further to the case.

Eric Collins. The name echoed in your mind, carrying a weight of respect and admiration that felt almost nostalgic. He had been a well-known coach at the rink where you had started your journey, a place that now felt like a lifetime ago. You could still picture the early mornings spent training under his watchful eye, his voice echoing in the chill, guiding you through every jump and spin. He had been more than just a coach to you; he had been a mentor, instilling a passion for the sport and a sense of discipline that shaped your formative years.

His sharp eye for technique and authoritative demeanor both on and off the ice set him apart. He was, without a doubt, the best of the best. You remembered how other skaters looked up to him, their eyes filled with admiration and a hint of fear, as he commanded respect with his presence alone. But as you transitioned to training under Branson at the pavilion, the dynamics shifted. Rumors began to swirl in the community, whispers that you were too young to fully comprehend at the time.

Looking back, you realized how those discussions had lingered in the air amongst the older skaters at the pavilion, like an unshakeable cloud. You now fully understood why they had been as cold to you in the beginning as they had. Was it jealousy? Disappointment? Perhaps a mix of both? You hadn’t understood the implications of your choice then, but the murmurs had reached your ears, and they had certainly reached the ears of your parents. They stirred a mix of emotions that you now recognized — loyalty to your roots clashing with the desire for growth. Eric had been a pivotal figure in your life, but as you navigated your own path, you wondered if he held a grudge against you for the choices you'd made as a young teenager and the fallout that had followed between you.

Now, as you stood in the cold, sterile confines of the observation room, watching Eric sit across from Hotch, a new sense of unease gripped you. The years had changed him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. The once-confident figure now looked worn and weary, his shoulders hunched slightly as if bearing the weight of countless burdens. You studied him through the glass, trying to reconcile the man in front of you with the one you once knew so well.

His face was now etched with lines of tension that spoke of stress and anxiety. The vibrant spark in his eyes had dulled. As you watched, his gaze darted nervously around the room, flitting from what you could only guess was the famous Hotchner stare — that Emily had told you to look out for — to the sterile walls, as though searching for an escape from the uncomfortable situation.

He seemed to have lost that light in him you remembered from your early days as a skater, swallowed by whatever shadows had crept into his life since those days. You couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him in the years since you had last shared the ice. What struggles had he faced? What demons lurked just behind his mask?

Hotch sat directly across from him. The atmosphere crackled with tension, an almost tangible force that made it hard to breathe — even for you.

But it was the slow unraveling of Collins’ responses that tightened the knot in your stomach. You watched as he fidgeted in his chair, his fingers tapping against the table in a nervous rhythm. His answers came out short and to some extent evasive as if he were struggling to articulate the truth or perhaps deliberately avoiding it. Each word he uttered felt heavy with implications, and the more he spoke, the more unease settled deep into your bones.

With each passing moment, it became increasingly clear that something was very wrong.

Collins wasn’t just nervous—he was hiding something. The longer you watched him squirm in his chair, the more you realized that the respect you had once held for him had now become a distant memory, overshadowed by a creeping sense of dread. It was unsettling to witness a man who had once stood as a pillar of strength now appeared so fragile, unraveling under the pressure of a single unit chief of the FBI.

Hotch’s voice broke through your swirling thoughts. “Mr. Collins, we need to know about your relationship with Leah and any potential conflicts you may have had with her.” The directness of his question pierced the atmosphere in the room like a sharp blade, demanding answers that Collins seemed reluctant to provide.

You weren't even sure if he knew Leah, maybe only by word of mouth.

You could see Collins stiffen at the mention of Leah’s name though, his expression shifting momentarily as if Hotch had struck a nerve. Would he deny knowing her, or would he confess to something? As Collins hesitated, a flicker of something — fear? Guilt? — crossed his face, and you felt a flash of goosebumps running down your spine.

Eric shifted in his seat, crossing his arms tightly over his chest in a defensive posture that immediately set off warning bells in your mind. It was as if something within him had suddenly flicked a switch, burying any nerves deep down where they could no longer be seen. This abrupt shift in demeanor was unsettling.

“I’ve never even met the girl. How could I have anything to do with her murder?” he snapped, the irritation sharp in his voice, cutting through the air like a knife. The fervor in his denial felt desperate.

His words, though defiant, rang hollow, as if they had been rehearsed for this very moment. The conviction behind them seemed more like a facade, a flimsy shield against the truth. Hotch didn’t flinch at the outburst; his expression remained stoic and composed. However, you noticed how his eyes sharpened, narrowing slightly as he focused intently on Collins. It was the look of a seasoned profiler who could sense the cracks in a lie, who understood that the truth often lay buried beneath layers of bravado and evasion.

“Your name came up in several interviews with Leah's friends and teammates,” Hotch said, his voice steady as he kept his focus on Collins. His gaze only flicked momentarily to the file in front of him, where he slightly skimmed the printed-out interview notes. “They mentioned that you were upset when Leah started outperforming your skaters,” Hotch pressed. The implication of his words was clear, and you could see the way Collins' jaw tightened at the mention of Leah's success. “Was there any reason you might have wanted to hurt her, Mr. Collins?”

As Hotch posed the question, you could sense the tension in the room ramping up. Collins shifted in his seat again, his body language betraying his increasing discomfort under Hotch's stare. The defensiveness that had initially shrouded him was slowly giving way to distress.

You watched as Collins swallowed hard, the color draining from his face. For a moment, he seemed to weigh his response carefully, as if calculating the repercussions of every word that might slip from his lips.

“I wasn’t upset,” Collins ground out, his voice audibly laced with irritation. The denial spilled from him like a plea, but it felt forced. “Leah had talent — more than most, I'll admit that.”

“I encouraged all of my skaters to watch her competition videos,” he continued, his tone growing more defensive. “I would never harm one of my skaters — past, present, or potential ones. This is ridiculous, what you're accusing me of!” The last words erupted from him with exasperation, echoing off the walls of the interrogation room.

As he spoke, you could see the agitation flicker across his face, the way his hands clenched into fists on the table, as if he were trying to anchor himself.

Hotch’s expression remained unreadable, but you knew he was picking apart every word, every twitch of Eric’s face. There was something more here, something beneath the surface, and you could see it in the way Eric’s defensiveness bordered on desperation.

It was becoming clearer by the second — Eric Collins was hiding something.

Memories of your time training under Eric Collins flooded your mind, each recollection a tangled web of emotions. You remembered the moments when his praise felt like validation, lifting your spirits and fueling your ambition. His approval had been intoxicating, making you believe you could achieve greatness on the ice. Which you had. But alongside those moments were flashes of resentment and jealousy you had overheard from fellow skaters — conversations whispered in hushed tones behind closed doors.

There had always been rumors about Collins' character once skaters moved on from his teaching. Tales circulated about the way he held grudges against those who didn’t meet his lofty expectations, and how he could turn a blind eye to their accomplishments if they fell short of his standards.

Those whispers, which had once seemed easily dismissible, now gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, transforming into a haunting echo of warning.

As you recalled the sharp glances and muted conversations, you began to question everything you had once believed about him. Was there truth buried in those rumors? The thought made your stomach churn, the contrast between the mentor you once admired and the man sitting across from Hotch became more pronounced.

You crossed your arms, closing your eyes, trying to calm your mind for a moment.

Could someone you once respected, someone you thought you knew, really be capable of such violence? If that were true, what did it mean for the rest of the people in your circle? — the ones you had considered friends, mentors, allies? Were the supportive voices you relied on truly as trustworthy as you had believed throughout your whole career?

Each name that came to mind — friends and mentors who had cheered you on, who had stood beside you through countless competitions — now became shadowed by doubt. The friendly faces you’d shared victories and defeats with suddenly appeared as if they might be masking darker intentions, leaving you questioning not only Collins’ integrity but also the loyalty of those around you.

“Mr. Collins, we have a source who mentioned that you had very high expectations for your skaters,” Hotch stated, his gaze locking onto Eric’s, refusing to let him evade the question. “She also mentioned that if someone didn’t meet those expectations, you had a reputation for being... cruel and degrading. Care to elaborate on that?”

Hotch’s tone was measured, his calm demeanor belying the intensity. Hotch was making half-statements now, twisting your words as the source in a way that felt almost accusatory of Collins. You had never experienced anything but motivation from Collins, who had always pushed you to be your best. Yet, as you looked at Eric’s posture, you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that maybe there was more to the story.

“Cruel?” Collins scoffed. “I pushed my skaters to succeed because I believed in them! High expectations are part of coaching; it’s how they grow.”

You felt the urge to defend him, but the truth was, you couldn’t definitively deny the claims. While your experiences had been largely positive, you knew there were other skaters who had left his coaching, some of whom had openly complained about their time with him. What had they endured that you hadn’t witnessed? Was there a darker side to his coaching style that you were blind to because of your age at the time?

We need to understand how your methods affected your skaters, Mr. Collins. Were you ever frustrated with them when they didn’t perform to your standards?”

“Of course I was frustrated; I wanted them to succeed. But frustration isn’t cruelty. I cared for my skaters; I wanted them to be the best they could be.”

“But did that frustration ever turn into something more?” Hotch pressed his tone sharper now. “Did it ever make you cross the line?”

Eric’s eyes flared, his defenses rising once again. “I never hurt anyone!” he snapped, the denial laced with a defensiveness that felt more and more like desperation. “That’s a stretch!” Eric snapped, his voice rising defensively. “Do you know how competitive this world is? It’s about pushing your limits, not punishment. You push hard, or you get left behind. That’s how it works.”

Hotch didn’t flinch, his gaze steady as he countered, “Perhaps. But competition can also breed resentment. It’s human nature. You’ve got to admit, Mr. Collins, you’ve had conflicts with Leah. Whether you want to acknowledge them or not, they existed.”

“I had conflicts with a lot of skaters. It’s part of coaching! It doesn’t mean I wanted to hurt anyone. Leah was good, but she wasn’t the only one. I had others to think about.”

Hotch leaned forward slightly, his voice calm yet unwavering. “But Leah stood out, didn’t she? It’s clear she had potential that could overshadow your skaters. It’s understandable that you might have felt threatened, even if you didn’t intend for that to turn into murder.”

Collins opened his mouth to retort but closed it again, the fight leaving his eyes as he looked away. “I didn’t feel threatened,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I just wanted to see all of my skaters succeed. It’s what any coach would want.”

Hotch pressed on, sensing the slight crack in Collins’ defenses. “Yet, your behavior can speak volumes, Mr. Collins. Did you ever say anything to Leah that could have fueled her resentment toward you? Any comments about her performance or her place among your skaters?”

Eric’s expression shifted again. “I may have said things in the heat of the moment. But that doesn’t mean I wanted her gone! I wanted her to succeed! Just not at the cost of my own skaters.” He muttered the last part, hoping Hotch wouldn't catch it.

“You don’t have to be a monster to contribute to a toxic environment, Mr. Collins. Sometimes, even unintended actions can lead to devastating consequences. We just need you to be honest with us about your relationship with Leah and how it may have affected her.”

“I may not have treated her as kindly as I should have,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “I had high expectations, and maybe I let my frustrations get the better of me. But that doesn’t mean I wanted to see her hurt! I never wished her harm.”

Hotch nodded, allowing the moment to sink in. “You must understand how your actions are perceived, Mr. Collins. Words can wound just as deeply as physical actions, especially in a competitive atmosphere.”

“Fine! I’ll admit I didn’t always handle things perfectly,” Collins said, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “But I still didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. I never crossed that line.”

As Hotch prepared to wrap up the interrogation, you felt a sense of bittersweet resolution. Collins wasn’t the monster you had feared he might be, but he was also not the respected coach you had once known.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Collins,” Hotch said. “We may have more questions for you in the future.”

Hotch approached you in the bullpen as you were gathering your few things. He leaned against a nearby desk, arms crossed and a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Are you starting to feel ready for sectionals?” he asked.

You paused, giving him a small glance as you rifled through your bag for your guards to your skates. “I think so. I’ve been training hard, but the nerves always kick in right before,” you admitted, trying to sound more confident than you felt with everything going on.

Hotch chuckled softly, an amused glint in his eyes. “Nerves are normal. Just remember all the hard work you’ve put in. You’ve prepared well.” He watched you as you packed. “What tricks are you planning?” He asked. As if he knew what the words coming out of your mouth would mean.

You shrugged slightly, your fingers brushing over the smooth blades of your skates. They needed to be sharpened you thought. “I’m hoping to nail my triple salchow this time. I’ve been practicing the entry and landing, but I still feel a bit off sometimes. Maybe it's my blades?” You glanced up at him, gauging his reaction. “Do you think I’m pushing it?”

“I'd like to say not at all, but I honestly have no clue what you just said meant” he replied firmly raising his brows a little with amusement. “You know your limits better than anyone. Trust your instincts out there. You’ve got the talent and the drive.”

As you zipped up your bag, a commotion near the entrance caught your attention. You glanced over for a brief moment, and your heart dropped as you saw Eric Collins being led out of the office by one of the agents.

His demeanor was stiff, and his eyes flicked around the room like a trapped animal searching for an escape. You didn’t notice his gaze land on you; you were too absorbed in your conversation with Hotch.

“Are you going to be at the rink to watch me practice?” you winked, trying to divert your focus back to your upcoming competition.

“If danger is lurking” Hotch replied, his expression softening. “I'll be there.”

You smiled at that, appreciating the effort. “Maybe you can give me some pointers after I skate.”

“I’ll try not to embarrass you too much with my lack of skating knowledge,” he joked, and you laughed lightly, the tension from earlier dissipating.

But from the corner of your eye, you noticed Eric’s eyes narrowing as he caught sight of you, his expression darkening for just a moment before the agent nudged him forward. The contact was fleeting; you were too lost in your conversation to fully grasp the change in Collins’ demeanor.

“Just keep your focus and enjoy it,” Hotch continued, breaking you from your thoughts. “Competitions are meant to be exhilarating, not just nerve-wracking.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Hotch.” You tossed your bag over your shoulder, feeling a sense of determination swell within you. As you turned to head out, you glanced back to look for Eric for a moment, but he was already gone.

“Good luck,” Hotch said as you headed toward the door. You turned, giving him a small smile before stepping out into the hallway.

As you stepped out of the academy building, the chill of the evening air enveloped you, it felt nice compared to the heavy air in the observation room just moments earlier. The sun had dropped below the horizon, leaving the world bathed in shades of indigo and deepening shadows.

Each step you took echoed on the pavement, the rhythmic sound barely breaking the silence that hung in the air.

You were lost in thought, replaying Eric Collins' defensive outbursts in your mind as you walked home while trying to shake off the lingering unease that had settled in your chest. Just focus on the sectionals, you told yourself.

Sectional should have been your main concern, you should've prioritized your training more, you thought.

You turned the corner onto your street, and a bizarre sensation skittered along your spine. Something felt off. Way off. The streetlights flickered erratically as if all the bulbs were about to die at the same time. They cast long, warped shadows that danced unnervingly on the pavement. You quickened your pace, eager to reach your apartment. Quickly. The comforting familiarity of home was just a few moments away. You needed to get home.

But as you approached your front door, your heart plummeted into your stomach. There, slumped against the door, was a figure. A figure you hadn't hoped to see. You froze, dread pooling in your gut as your breath caught in your throat. It was Mark. He was splayed awkwardly against the wood, the grotesque sight of him sending waves of nausea crashing over you.

The moonlight was the only source of light illuminating the horrific scene. Branson’s body was lifeless, his face twisted in a final expression of shock and pain.

An ice pick protruded from his heart, it looked to be buried deep, and a dark pool of blood blossomed around it, seeping into the cracks of the pavement. Your hands trembled as you took a hesitant step closer, your heart racing with fear.

But the real horror struck when your gaze flicked up. Scrawled in bold, jagged letters on your door, the words "You’re next" glared back at you in bright red blood, it was dripping slightly as if it had just been written mere moments ago. It sent a chill down your spine, a reminder of the threat moving closer and closer to you.

You staggered back, almost stumbling to the ground, panic rising in your throat. The reality of what you were witnessing crashed over you like a wave, drowning out all rational thought. This wasn’t just a sick prank or a random act of violence; this was something deliberate and calculated. Branson wasn’t breathing, his life extinguished in an instant. He had been alive only moments before your arrival, you were sure of it.

With your heart racing wildly, and your vision blurred with fright, you fumbled for your phone, your fingers slick with sweat as they trembled. You somehow managed to dial Hotch’s number, the ringing in your ear sounding almost deafening against the silence surrounding you. Each tone amplified your fear. When he finally picked up, the voice that came through sounded tired, as if you'd woken him from a nap.

“Hotch,” you gasped, the words struggling to form as the terror seized your throat. You barely recognized your own voice as you uttered a soft, broken whimper, “Help.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, the silence stretching between you. You could hear Hotch stumbling to his feet, the sound of something heavy clattering to the floor echoing in your ear as he processed the raw fear in your voice. His quick breaths came through the phone, each one heavy with concern.

All the while, your gaze remained locked on Branson’s lifeless body, the sight seared into your mind. The dark stain of blood beneath him only grew larger with each passing moment. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, transfixed by the brutality of it all — the blood, the ice pick, the message on your door.

"I'll be there!" The line went silent as Hotch hung up.

Tag list: @love4lando @therealbaberuthless @crazyunsexycool @pear-1206 @bookworm124 @itsmytimetoodream @c-losur3 @lumestar @evvy96 @booknerd2004 @werebearcocoon

[love--and--venom]

Bite Me

Summary: You're fed up with the cold shoulder you've been getting from your best friend. So you show up to his apartment to confront him. The reason behind his silence is one you can hardly believe

Warnings: Blood, biting, suggestive for most members (especially Heeseung), lmk if i missed anything

Pairings: OT7 x Reader [separate], platonic Ni-ki and Sunoo

A/N: so i read part of this series called "house of night" when i was definitely too young to be reading it. anyway, when the vampires in that series feed on people, the human gets like super turned on. so i wrote that lol

Introduction

It’s been more than a week since you’ve heard from your best friend. The two of you normally texted every day. At the very least, you reacted to messages when either of you were too busy to fully respond. Your texts were going through and you knew he was reading them. Your anxiety grew worse as each day of silence passed. You were fed up, so you took matters into your own hands and showed up unannounced to his apartment. The door was locked, but you had each other’s keys, so you let yourself in. The overhead lights were off and all of the windows were covered in blackout curtains. None of the bright spring sun entered the apartment.

“You shouldn’t be here,” his voice came from the darkest corner of the living room.

“Don’t give me that shit,” you scoffed and stormed into the apartment, not even bothering to take your shoes off. 

“Stop! Seriously, you need to leave.”

“No! I’ve been so fucking worried about you. I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay,” you argued, dropping your bag on the kitchen counter. You stood with your hands on your hips, jutting one out to the side and raising your eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m fine, now go,” he insisted. You barely saw his outline in the dark. He was hunched on the floor between the couch and the wall.

“You’re obviously not fine. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.”

“Listen, if you’re mad at me, we can talk it out. Don’t just ignore me,” you moved closer to the seam separating the carpet of the living room from the tile in the kitchen.

“Y/N, I’m not mad at you. Please just leave. I promise I’ll call you later,” he pleaded. His shoulders shook in what you assumed was barely-contained anger.

“I’m not leav-”

“Get out! I don’t want to hurt you,” he shouted, startling you enough to take a step back. It was silent for a few tense moments, save for his heavy breathing.

“I don’t understand. Why do you think you’d hurt me?” In a split second, you were backed against the wall, caged in by your best friend’s arms. Your mind reeled at his speed and the unnatural red glow in his eyes. 

“My supply ran out. I couldn’t feed and I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself for much longer.” 

“Wh- supply? Feed? What are you talking about?!” You demanded, eyes wide and brows furrowed. The string lights lining the ceiling of the living room glinted off his teeth. No, not his teeth. His fangs.

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. I think you can figure it out.”

“You’re a fucking vampire?!” His fists balled up next to your head. His eyes bore down on you, draining some of the confidence you had conjured up. You couldn’t meet his eyes, opting to look at his hoodie strings instead.

“How long?” You muttered, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?”

“How long have you been… like this?” 

“What, how long have I been a vampire?” He asked incredulously. You nodded and he sighed, relaxing his hands so they pressed flat on the wall. “A little over two years.”

“Two years? And you never told me?” 

“How was I supposed to tell you, Y/N? ‘Hey when my family was in Romania some psycho bit me and now I drink blood’? Come on, you would’ve called the cops on me.” As his sarcastic rant continued, your jaw tensed and you struggled to stay calm.

“Stop!” His words died on his tongue. “I would not have called the cops or have you hospitalized.” You peeked up at him through your lashes. 

“I’m sorry,” he caved at the shakiness of your voice. 

“You said your supply ran out. What does that mean?”

“I met an older vampire during the first week after I turned. There’s a small circle of people like me that he introduced me to. One of them works for the Red Cross, and she brings us blood bags,” he explained, looking at the floor.

“I don’t…" You took a deep breathe before continuing. "It feels wrong to take donations like that, but I understand why it’s necessary.” He sighed, somewhat relieved that you didn’t immediately run for the hills. “So you ran out of the blood bags?”

“Yeah. The Red Cross nurse has been out of the country for a few weeks. I thought I had enough, but I was wrong.”

“And your solution was to isolate yourself? You couldn’t possibly hide until she got back. I mean, do you even know when she’s supposed to come back?” You pointed out all the flaws in his flimsy plans.

“I don’t. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You need blood, right?” He nodded. “Why don’t you, uh, feed straight from a person?”

“Seriously?” He scoffed. “I can’t just ask someone, they’d think I’m insane.”

“I’ll do it,” you stated, feeling oddly calm now despite the very real danger you were in. He narrowed his eyes on you.

“You’ll do what, Y/N?” The way he asked screamed ‘rethink what you just offered’.

“I’ll let you feed from me. I mean, it’s just this once, right?”

“No. No, absolutely not. I can’t do that to you,” he refused immediately. You rolled your eyes.

“You’re going to starve if you don’t. Please, I want to help you,” you insisted. He hesitated, checking your eyes for any hint of fear or doubt.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, just bite me.”

Jungwon

His eyes darkened, shifting from a bright red to a deep maroon. His hands lifted from the wall, one grabbing your jaw and the other hooking into the collar of your t-shirt. He angled your head so your neck was bared for him, pulling your shirt to the side at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Jungwon whispered against your neck. His cold breath sent a shiver down your spine. You assumed he would get straight into it, get the whole thing done as quickly as possible. Your heart jumped when he pressed a feather-light kiss right below your jawline.

“Jungwon-”

“Shh. Let me do this right.” You nodded against his hand, uncrossing your arms to grip the front of his hoodie. His lips trailed down the side of your neck, smirking against your racing pulse. He settled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, right above your collarbone. He kissed your skin one last time, licking over the area before piercing your skin with his fangs.

You squeaked at the sensation. The sharp sting from the bite quickly faded once his teeth retracted from your neck. Then his lips closed around the wound and he sucked. Your eyes widened at the sudden heat pouring from your neck into your core. 

“Oh, fuck. Jungwon, is it supposed to feel like this?” You panted and tightened your grip on his hoodie. He hummed but couldn’t pull himself away, too caught up in the taste of your blood. You rested your head against the wall, eyes rolling back and thighs squeezing together. You waited in silence, mind racing to catch up with everything you learned in the last 15 minutes. You let him take as much as he needed, until the edges of your vision began to blur.

“J-Jungwon, too much. I’m getting dizzy,” you pushed weakly against his forehead. 

“Sorry, fuck, I’m sorry.” He forced himself to release your neck. The puncture marks still slowly leaked blood. 

“I sh-should bandage that,” you trailed off, just as reluctant to move as Jungwon was.

“Hold on, let me just…” He ran his tongue over the wound, pulling an involuntary moan from your throat. “My saliva is a coagulant.” He pulled back with the intention of making sure you were okay, but froze at the almost fucked-out expression on your face. Your nails dug into his biceps, shattering the last of his self-restraint. Both hands cradled your cheeks as he crashed his lips into yours. You gasped, allowing Jungwon to roll his tongue over yours. The metallic taste of your own blood flooded your mouth and his fangs scraped over your lower lip. Your knees buckled. If Jungwon wasn’t pressing you into the wall with his body, you definitely would have fallen. He might not need to breathe anymore, but you did, forcing you to break the heated kiss. 

“Are you okay?” He brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, resting his forehead against yours.

“Mhm, just a little tired,” you answered once you caught your breath.

“I went overboard.” He picked you up, hands under your thighs, and carried you to his couch. He fell back against the cushions, settling down with you laying on his chest. “Sleep. We’ll talk when you wake up.”

Heeseung

A wide smile broke out on his face, showing off his razor sharp fangs. He swept you up in his arms, moving to set you on the countertop.

“What are you doing?” You asked as he slotted himself between your legs. Heat crept up on your cheeks.

“Having you sit down,” Heeseung said and tilted his head at you. “Just in case you get light-headed.” You rolled your eyes, dropping your hands to rest on the edge of the counter. You realized something right as his lips grazed the skin of your neck.

“Wait!”

“What? I’m sorry, what happened?” His eyes washed over in a panic as he squeezed your hands. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no that’s not it. I have work tomorrow. My uniform won’t cover my neck, you have to bite somewhere else.” He sagged in relief. He bit his lip delicately while his eyes raked over your body. You suddenly felt very exposed despite being totally covered in your t-shirt and leggings.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shot into your hairline. Heeseung leaned closer, so close that you could feel his cool breath on your lips.

“Take. Off. Your. Shirt.” He repeated slowly, pausing between each word for emphasis. 

“W-why?”

“Don’t blame me, babe, you’re the one that wanted me to bite in a hidden place.” Your flush grew at the pet name, hesitating just a moment longer before removing your top, leaving you in your simple black bra. You fought the urge to cover yourself under his heated stare.

“Now what?” His eyes flicked to yours one last time. His hands moved to grab your hips. Your breath hitched when his head dipped down to lick over the top of your breast, right next to the edge of your bra. His fangs sank into the soft skin, making you wince at the sting. He pulled his teeth back to suck on the fresh wound. You smacked a hand over your mouth to stifle your moan, the other gripping the counter so tight your knuckles turned white.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking sweet,” Heeseung mumbled against your skin. The vibrations sent your mind reeling from the unexpected pleasure. You held out for a solid few minutes until dark spots danced in your vision.

“H-Heeseung,” you whimpered and pushed at his shoulder. 

“Sorry.” He soothed the punctures with his tongue, effectively stopping the bleeding. His eyes were back to their normal brown. Your eyes dragged over his features in a daze, stopping at the smear of blood at the corner of his mouth. You tried wiping it away with your thumb, but it only spread further down his chin. Without thinking, you leaned forward to lick your blood from his face.

“Goddamn, you can’t just do that to me, Y/N.” He ran a hand up the back of your neck to tangle his fingers in your hair. 

“What do you mean?” You shivered when his nails grazed over your scalp. He poked his tongue into his cheek. A primal instinct in him was pleased with your blissful expression. 

“You know… my senses were heightened when I changed,” he started, holding back a devious grin. Your eyebrows creased, confused as to where he was going with this. 

“So?”

“So.” He tugged you toward him to whisper next to your ear. “I’ve been able to smell how turned on you get when you’re around me.” 

“Wh…what?” His hand trailed from your hair to cup your jaw. His touch and his smile were incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to the fire in your lower belly. 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I feel the same about you,” Heeseung confessed, brushing his thumb below your bottom lip. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence to respond. Instead, you pressed a quick peck to his lips. Both of you sat in a stunned silence for a minute, until he pulled you back in for a slower, more languid kiss. He licked into your mouth, dragging his tongue along yours. You whined when he broke away, chasing after him and nearly tumbling off the counter.

“Easy there, hot stuff,” he teased. He grabbed your t-shirt and helped you re-dress. “You need to eat and rest right now, I took a lot out of you.”

“Don’t say it like that, you’re making it sound dirty,” you pouted and let him carry you to the couch. He laughed, maneuvering you so you sat between his legs with your back to his chest. 

“Rest.” You relaxed in his hold, drifting off to the sound of a movie playing on the TV.

Jay 

“You’re insane, you know that?” He tilted his head to the side, moving one hand from the wall to brush against your cheek. 

“Yeah, well, I have to be a little insane to put up with you.” Butterflies crept up in your stomach at the soft affection in his eyes. 

“Right,” he shook his head with a breathy laugh. “This is going to be a lot like donating blood. You might get dizzy if you haven’t eaten anything recently.”

“I had lunch before I came over. I’ll be fine.”

“Where do you want it?” His question caught you off guard. You hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Uhh, it doesn’t really matter. Just somewhere I can cover so I don’t get weird looks at school and work,” you answered after mulling it over in your head. 

“Somewhere you can cover, huh?” Jay smirked, slowly dragging his eyes down your body. 

“Quit it, you’re making me nervous.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” He pecked your cheek then dropped to his knees in front of you, making your brain short-circuit.

“Jay! Wh-” You cut yourself off with a squeak when he hooked your leg over his shoulder. 

“Relax. I’m just making sure it’ll be covered, like you asked.” 

“But where-?” He tore open the inner seam of your leggings to expose the plush skin of your thigh. “My pants! Jay, I still have to walk home later!”

“You can borrow some of mine. Just relax and lean back against the wall,” he instructed gently, rubbing circles on your knee until you let the tension release from your shoulders. He smiled up at you one more time before leaning in to lick a thick stripe along your thigh. He hooked a hand under your knee to keep your leg securely on his shoulder while the other rested on your hip. 

His fangs pierced through your skin. The sharp pain caused you to jolt against his hold. His grip tightened and you felt his fangs shrink back to normal teeth. The image of Jay kneeling between your legs coupled with the blood loss clouded over your mind. Your hands hovered uselessly, unsure of what you could hold on to in order to ground yourself. You settled on curling your fingers around the hem of your shirt until Jay guided one of your hands to thread through his hair. If anyone were to walk in at this point, it would look like something very different was happening. You closed your eyes with a tiny whimper, pouring all of your focus into sitting still.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Jay’s voice broke through your stupor. You blinked down at him, seeing his eyebrows crease in concern. 

“I’m alright. Do you need more?” 

“No, I’m done. I’ll grab some sweatpants for you after I stop the bleeding,” he stated, giving your knee a reassuring squeeze. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of his tongue running over the wound. He set your leg back on the ground then stood to cup your face in both hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t take too much?”

“I’m okay, just a little tired.” He paused, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes flitted over your face, eventually landing on your lips. You stared back at him with big, sleepy puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself, pulling you into a soft kiss before he could chicken out again. You melted against him, draping your arms around his neck. It was much too short for your liking, but you didn’t argue as Jay broke the kiss to lead you to the couch. He disappeared into his room briefly, returning with a pair of gray sweatpants. He busied himself in the kitchen, grabbing you a snack and tea while you changed. After you ate, he guided you to lay your head in his lap, scratching your scalp soothingly.

“Thank you, my love,” you heard him whisper moments before succumbing to sleep.

Sunghoon

“Promise me that you’ll stop me if I go too far,” he urged you, holding your face in his hands to force you to meet his eyes. 

“I will. But I trust you, Sunghoon. I know you won’t hurt me.” You leaned into one of his palms, lightly wrapping your fingers around his wrists. His eyes softened into an emotion you haven’t seen from him before, and it drew a flush to your cheeks. His arms dropped to his sides, taking the slightest step back.

“Okay, uhh. Do you have a… preference?”

“Huh?? A preference for what?”

“God, why is this so fucking awkward,” he muttered to himself, clearing his throat before asking a bit louder. “Where do you want me to bite you?”

“Oh! Right, I guess somewhere on my legs. It’s still cool enough to wear pants, so I can hide it easily.” He nodded, dropping to his knees to scan over your legging-clad form. He furrowed his brows.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Where exactly should-”

“Just pick somewhere! Seriously, it doesn’t matter,” you huffed impatiently. 

“Fine, but I don’t want to hear any complaints,” Sunghoon smirked, eyes glittering with mischief. Your eyebrows shot up, but before you could question what he meant, he yanked down the waistband of your leggings on one side. His fangs dug unceremoniously into the skin of your outer thigh, just under the side of your underwear. 

“Ow! Fuck, give me a warning, Sunghoon,” you yelped at the sharp sting. He glared at you from below, keeping one hand hooked into your leggings to keep the fabric out of the way while the other gripped your other hip. His fangs retracted, but didn’t fully disappear. You felt them scrape over your skin as he sucked at the wound. The feeling of your blood being drained from your body was incredibly odd. 

“You doing okay?” Sunghoon pulled back slightly to look up at you. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“What does it feel like?” He asked before continuing to feed. 

“It’s weird. I thought it would hurt, but it feels…good?” He hummed and tapped your hip for you to keep talking. “Okay, please don’t judge me, but the only way I can describe it is, uhh, arousing.”

“Really?” He released your hip with a light pop, grinning wolfishly at your blush. 

“Sunghoon I swear if you make fun of me for this-”

“I’m not, chill.” He paused to lap at the punctures. “Thank you, seriously. You have no idea how much this means to me.” He fixed your leggings then stood to pull you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“You know I’d do anything for you.” The words were muffled by his shirt, but he heard them loud and clear. He broke away to cup your jaw in his hands. He was looking at you with that softness again, making your breath hitch.

“Can I kiss you?” Rather than answering him verbally, you tugged him down to connect your lips in a tender kiss. He sighed happily, tilting his head to deepen it. Your fingers gripped the front of his shirt to bring yourself back to reality. His tongue brushed over your bottom lip, extremely satisfied when you immediately opened your mouth. His tongue brushed over yours, pulling a whine from the back of your throat. You reluctantly pulled back when your lungs started to burn.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” Sunghoon admitted, resting his forehead against yours. While you were panting to catch your breath, his chest was completely still.

“It’s so weird that you don’t breathe.” He laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Really, that’s what you choose to comment on?”

“Yeah, yeah. I like you too, asshole,” you teased with a playful nudge to his shoulder. 

“You’re cute. Go pick a movie, I’ll order your favorite takeout and you can fill me in on everything I’ve missed this week.” 

Jake 

“Thank you, thank you. Seriously, Y/N, you’re the best.” Jake gently shook your shoulders to emphasize his point.

“I know,” you giggled, holding onto his wrists to steady yourself.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Don’t worry about it, just do what you gotta do.” You tilted your head, pulling your hair over one shoulder to give him easy access to your neck. He pecked your cheek before biting into your skin, unknowingly picking a sensitive spot under your ear. His hands settled on your hips as he sucked on the fresh wound, humming in satisfaction when the taste of your blood hit his tongue. You bit your lip to stifle the moans that threatened to escape your throat.

“A-ah, fuck! Gentle, Jake. Please,” you whimpered when he got a little too enthusiastic with his feeding. His fingers dug into your hips so he could reign in his instincts. He slowed down, but you could tell that there would be a massive bruise later. A minute or two later, he released your neck with a deep sigh, dropping his head to rest on your collarbone.

“Shit, I blanked out. You okay?” Jake asked, slightly panting. His breath was strangely cold against your skin.

“Yeah, I’m good, but what about you? What do you mean ‘I blanked out’?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, unsure if it was to comfort him or yourself.

“This is gonna sound weird,” he started. His head lifted a bit so he could check over your face, looking for any signs of anemic shock. His thumb brushed under the still-bleeding puncture wounds, eyebrows scrunched with worry. He lapped at the droplets and you shivered at the feeling of his tongue on the sensitive skin.

“I-It’s fine. You’ve said plenty of weird things to me before. Why are you still licking me??” Your voice pitched up at the end of your question.

“To stop the bleeding,” he said as if it were obvious. “I have a coagulant in my saliva, it reverses the venom from my fangs.”

“Interesting…”

“You taste really good.”

“I beg your pardon?!” Even with the minor blood loss, you felt a blush rise up on your cheeks.

“Oh my god, not like that! I meant that your blood tastes good. I dunno, I got almost drunk off of it for a minute.” He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Jake! Do not sniff me!”

“Sorry! It’s either I continue to sniff you or I’m gonna kiss you,” he froze, almost as if he didn’t mean to say that. If he had to breathe, he certainly would have choked on air. You bit your lip to hide your laughter.

“I’ll take option two,” you admitted while threading a hand through the hair at the base of his neck. He leaned back, the hand that had been on your neck moved to your cheek. Jake studied you, looking for any sign of doubt. Upon seeing your shy but genuine smile, a grin broke out on his face.

“I mean, if you insist,” he teased with a wiggle of his brows. You rolled your eyes, tugging him forward to press a short kiss to his lips. He surged forward before you could pull too far away. You gasped as you were pushed further into the wall, giving Jake the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. The metallic taste of your blood lingered, but it oddly didn’t bother you. His hand slowly trailed down your hip to the juncture of your thigh and ass, arching your body into his. 

“I really like you, you know,” he mumbled against your mouth after forcing himself to break the kiss, resting his forehead on your own.

“I can tell,” you giggled, scrunching your nose up a bit. “Good thing I really like you, too.” He smirked and pulled you back into another relaxed kiss, hoping to distract you from his wandering hand. 

“Nice try, Jake.” You swatted his hand away when his fingers brushed against the underwire of your bra. “Slow it down-”

“Make it bouncy?”

“You’re an idiot,” you snickered and wormed your way out of his arms to flop down on his couch.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot now, sweetheart.” He sat next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders so you could relax into his side. Your cheek rested on his chest.

“I know. I’m yours, too.”

Sunoo 

His lips pressed into a thin line as tears welled up on his lash line. A wave of panic rushed over you.

“Oh no, Sunoo, please don’t cry.” Your hands waved uselessly in front of you, caught between wanting to hug him but also wanting to respect his distaste for skinship. He made that decision for you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to grip the back of your shirt. Your hands immediately settled in the middle of his back, running small circles with your thumbs.

“I’ve been so scared of what would happen if anyone found out,” he sighed heavily into the crown of your head. “I can’t believe you’re so calm about this.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that vampires are real,” you teased to ease some of the tension. He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose.

“Yeah? Try being a vampire. It’s not as fun as the movies make it look.” You pulled back to wipe the tears from under his eyes.

“I’m being serious, though. You’re my best friend. We look out for each other, right?” You gently reassured him. 

“We do,” he agreed.

“Exactly. You would do the same for me if things were reversed. So eat before you die of starvation.” He rolled his eyes, unzipping your hoodie halfway and letting it fall from one shoulder. One hand wrapped around your bicep while the other sat on your collarbone to hold the strap of your tank top out of the way. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” Sunoo urged with a deadly serious edge to his voice. 

“I will, I promise.” With your confirmation, he bit into the curve of your shoulder. You winced silently at the sting, pulling out your phone to scroll on instagram while he drank from the wound. Sunoo was blissfully unaware of your distraction until Sticky blasted at full volume. He glared at you with the worst side-eye you’ve ever had the misfortune of receiving. 

“Are you on tiktok right now?” He asked incredulously, momentarily forgetting about your bleeding shoulder.

“Yeonjun did the sticky dance! How am I supposed to ignore that?”

“You’re ridiculous. I should kick you out right now.”

“Sunoo,” you whined at your friend as his eyes faded from red to their natural brown. He stood up straight, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow. “Ugh, I’m sorryyyyyyy. Put on one of your boring documentaries so I can fill you in on the bullshit between two of my classmates.”

“Say less!” You went to fix your hoodie and move to the living room, but were stopped by Sunoo’s hands on your wrists. “Hold on, I have to take care of the wound.” He ducked down to run his tongue over the punctures and you gagged dramatically.

“Ew, just say you want more blood next time you weirdo.”

“I’m stopping the bleeding! You’re so melodramatic.” He lightly shoved you toward the couch, stopping by the kitchen to grab a water bottle for you.

“Awe, you do love me,” you cooed after he tossed the bottle to you.

“I do love you, Y/N. I really appreciate your help and how understanding you’ve been,” he reached out to hold your hand but refused to look you in the eye. 

“I love you, too,” you smiled and squeezed his hand before pulling back to give him some space. 

“So, your classmates?”

“Oh my GOD they are so dense!” You launched into a yap session with David Attenborough as background noise and Sunoo drinking up every detail.

Ni-Ki

“You’re way too nice for your own good,” Riki stated with a flick to your forehead. 

“Oh, please. Like I’d let anyone other than you drink my blood.”

“Yay! I feel so special,” he teased and shot you a shit-eating grin. You shoved your hand into his face.

“Just do it before I change my mind,” you huffed with no real intention to actually leave him by himself and near starving. He grabbed your hand, turning it over a couple times to figure out where he should bite. 

“Man, I don’t fuckin know,” he muttered to himself before digging his fangs into your wrist (think Bella in the first Twilight). 

“Ow,” you half-heartedly complained. You let him drink in peace for a solid minute. Then you got bored and decided to mess with him, poking his cheek repeatedly. 

“Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet?” You asked with each poke. He released your wrist to groan loudly.

“Y/N.”

“Riki.” He glared at you for a few seconds until you poked him again. 

“I thought you were the older one here,” he retorted, showing off his fangs in a fake grimace.

“I am! I treat you the exact same as I treat my brother. Which, unfortunately for you, means I will constantly give you shit.”

“Meh meh meh meh meh,” he mocked quietly as he returned to your bleeding wrist.

“Hey! Is that any way to talk to your only noona– OW you little shit!” You flinched when he pressed into the wound with the pads of his fingers. He ignored you, so you started talking his ear off about work and the favoritism you swore your manager was showing to another girl. Normally Riki would interrupt you every 30 seconds during your ramblings, but his mouth was currently occupied.

“Oh my goddddddd,” he whined obnoxiously and in your ear. “I’m done, please shut uuuuup.” 

“Riki!” You smacked the back of his head, leveling the younger boy with what your brother called your ‘mom eyes’. 

“Sorry,” he grumbled.

“Sorry what?”

“I’m sorry, noona.” He swung your joined hands around, shaking your whole body in the process. “I just love your amazingly long-winded stories.” You decided to ignore the sarcasm in the second half of his apology. 

“Did you get enough?” You asked, nodding toward the wound. 

“Oh! Yeah, I did. Thank you. I was honestly starting to freak out.” 

“It took a whole week for you to panic?” He shrugged. “Are you gonna let my hand go so I can bandage that?”

“Nope. No need, I can stop the bleeding.” He lifted your arm to his mouth again to lick the wounds a couple times.

“Gross.”

“Oh cool, that worked.”

“What?!” Your eyebrows shot into your hairline. “You didn’t know for sure?”

“Well the older vampires all said our saliva stops bleeding, but I’ve never done it myself before.” 

“You’re impossible. You’re lucky I love you,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“How can I ever repay you,” he teased and bowed with a flourish, kissing the top of your hand with an exaggerated ‘mwah!’

“Ewwww,” you grunted and yanked your hand out of his grip. Riki clutched his stomach as he laughed at your reaction. You crossed your arms, acting annoyed despite the fuzzy feeling of pride filling your chest.

“Do you want me to order food for you?” He asked after he calmed down. 

“Yes! I want whatever Jay has been feeding you to get you that tall,” you grinned, turning to saunter over to the couch. You collapsed into the cushions and turned on the TV.

“Wait for me, I want to watch more Demon Slayer with you. Hi, can I place an order for delivery, please?” Riki’s voice trailed away as he disappeared into his room for the phone call. You shook your head, queueing up the episode you left off on more than a week ago, more than ready to spend time with your best friend again.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

[dipperscavern]

ugh my most fave account in the whole WORLD can I ask for bathing w Jon??? Doesn’t even have to be smutty (tho I wouldn’t complain) just like spending time with him after a stressful day, maybe a massage, maybe some ogling idk 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

most fave account in the world… you’re just saying that… [batting my lashes] absolutely u can!! thank u for the ask <3

jon snow x fem!reader, set after the battle of the bastards

jon’s not sure who’s blood he’s covered in anymore. dirt & grime cling to him like moths to a flame, and he’s exhausted — in all senses.

it’s emotional, being back in winterfell. it’s halls echo with the haunted laughter of the ghosts that once roamed them, and jon can almost feel the memories etched onto the bricks under his fingertips. how many feet have walked these halls?

he knows winterfell it’s just a castle, a place that’s been here & will remain here long after he dies. he knows it’s the people that make a place a home — knows the castle doesn’t take sides or have favorites of its inhabitants, but he can’t help the feeling of possession that licks up his spine. a strange sense of family, like the castle itself has been waiting to hold them all in its walls once more.

and, he feels a sense of pride. accomplishment. finally does he have back that which was taken from him and his family when the realm fell apart. he’s been guarding the wall for years, and he vows to guard winterfell with the same ferocity.

he thinks all this while he stands at the window of his old room, watching the banners of flayed men be cut down & replaced with direwolves. bolton’s, cut down. replaced by starks. a hot bath awaits behind him, waiting to wash his sins clean, but he hasn’t so much as looked at it yet. he feels so much, all of it all at once. grief, shock, pain, nostalgia — all which make his head spin.

the adrenaline of battle quickly disappears from his system, making his knees buckle as he leans against the windowsill. little black spots dance in his vision as he tries to regain his balance. rickon chipped a tooth on this sill, he thinks. the memory uncomfortably squeezes at his heart.

as his brain assesses he’s not in danger anymore, various injuries now come to light. the ache of his knuckles, bruised & wet with blood. whether it’s his or ramsays, he can’t be entirely certain. his legs hurt, his arms hurt; the cuts on his face scream as dirt mixes with the open wound. he can feel the plethora of grime in his scalp, and the strain of his hair being pulled back. he should- needs to be back out there, checking on his men, surveying winterfells grounds, helping with the cleanup — but he can’t do that until he gives his body some respite. he needs relief, but where does he even start?

he’s smoothing a hand over his jaw when the door opens, and he turns to see you. you exhale, visibly relaxing at the sight of him as you close the door. your eyes rake up and down his body, seemingly checking for any mortal wounds. he understands, you lost sight of each other as soon as the battle started. well, you lost sight of him as the entirety of the bolton army ran at him full speed.

“Sansa said you’d be here.”

albeit less than him, you’re covered in the aftermath of battle yourself. while relieved to see you, jon doesn’t have the energy to respond, meeting your eyes with a tired look & nodding. you smile at the sight of what he’s leaning against, moving to join him at the sanctuary of his window.

“Rickon chipped a tooth on this sill.”

when he thought of it, it hurt. but when you mention it, it only makes him smile — huffing out a breath of laughter.

“Aye. He did.”

you look out the window for a moment, relishing in seeing the stark banners hang once more, before reaching a hand up to cradle his cheek. you have it angled to not touch any of his cuts, and the small gesture makes him only fall more in love with you, if even possible.

you look at him for a moment, and then move to reach for jon’s gloved hand. he almost pulls back at the thought of sullying your clean hands with his own, caked with blood both metaphorically & physically — but he fails to realize you took lives today too. your hands are just as sullied as his own, but never in his mind will they be equal. either way, you don’t seem to mind, eager to reaffirm the idea that he’s okay by feeling him under your hands.

you begin to slide off his glove, and he winces at the exposure of his bloody knuckles. they’re bruised, skin partially cracked from the force he used to have a conversation with the bolton bastard. your brows pinch, muttering an apology as you toss the glove on the floor & move to take off the other.

he looks at you as you work, and he suddenly feels a surge of emotion. how lucky is he to have someone that understands him so? you know what he needs even when jon himself doesn’t, and he has to resist the urge to interrupt you by pressing a kiss to your temple. he settles on allowing the corners of his lips to quirk up in a small smile.

even in his gratefulness, he can’t help the thought that lingers in the back of his mind. the thought that he should be out there, tending to the wounded or helping in some other way (as if he wasn’t part of the fight to win back winterfell). anything other than remaining warm in the castle halls while there’s still work to be done. he can’t help himself, and eventually voices as much.

“I should be out there.”

“Sansa has it.” you say, not even glancing at him as you begin to fiddle with the buckles of his outer layer.

sansa. he thinks back to the spoiled princess that left winterfell, and now to the politically-savvy ruler that’s been left in her wake. from what he’s seen, she’s become strong, and if you say she has it — she has it. he selfishly relishes in letting someone else take the lead, even if only for a moment.

he feels exhaustion beginning to settle in, taking root deep in his bones. the prospect of you, a bed, and warm furs currently entice him more than any offer of gold or jewelry, but he knows it’ll be long before he can get what he desires. he decides to compromise, settling for the present until time calls for sleep.

once you get his outer layer off, he begins to strip himself bare. he has no care for you seeing him, you’ve both been as naked as your name day before the other countless times — who is he to hide from you now?

as the dirt, sweat, and blood that were trapped underneath his clothing get released, the reprieve is palpable. his skin appreciates its liberation from the suffocating fabric, beginning to assuage its protest.

eventually, he steps in, sinking into the bath & letting the hot water turn his mind off. his eyes flutter shut at the instant soothe it provides, and he’s thankful to have all his uncomfortable clothing off. his injuries sting at first, making him grimace, but they eventually calm down. he’s vaguely aware of you approaching behind him, moving to sit on the stool handmaidens usually use to assist their lord or lady.

your hands come to fuss with his hair, untying the portion of it that’s held back. the tension that snaps free from his head has his brows knitting, a shaky exhale falling from his lips. your hands run through his curls, lightly scratching at his scalp. the ache of it is delicious, and goosebumps litter his body at the feeling.

you look down at jon, a light smile adorning your face at the sight of his relief. watching the bolton army swarm him had your chest tightening, uncomfortably compromising any hope of air entering your lungs. you watched as ramsay paid his debt for his transgressions, as jon lost himself in his anger, and as sansa snapped him out of it. and truthfully, horribly, you’re just glad he’s alright.

you lean forward, resting a hand on the edge of the tub as your head leans against his own, tipped back. your other hand comes over his shoulder, finding purchase on any skin available to you. you’ve done this dance before — almost losing him, and then having to convince yourself he’s okay again. you can only do that by feeling him through your fingertips, greedily soaking up his touch like vultures during winter.

you both don’t need words. you became fluent in the language of your comfortable silence long ago.

you sit there for a moment, relishing in his presence, his touch, being in winterfell again. you look to the window, thinking of all there is to be done, and sigh. you need to get back out there. you press a kiss to his temple, then retract, moving to stand up. the water lightly sloshes around as jon looks at you.

you lightly caress the back of his neck, looking down at him. “I should return. Offer assistance where it’s needed.”

you move to walk off, but jon catches your hand. “You could join me,” he says. “If you like.”

you look to him, your gaze accidentally flickering to his chest. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you look away. you never did have any resolve when it came to jon.

you squeeze his hand, then turn to start undressing. you didn’t even realize how uncomfortable you were until you started shedding your layers, freeing your irritated skin. your head drops down, and you run your hands through your hair. gods. how long had you been fighting?

you don’t notice how jon’s gaze is trapped on you, mapping the expanse of your body. if he’s ever doubted the existence of the gods, your presence reaffirms that belief. you were hand crafted, created with the intention to embody beauty in human form. if you asked of him absolution, jon would pray — kneeling before you as his altar.

you discard your clothes, moving to step in opposite from him. you’re fairly unharmed, other than the few small bruises that litter your body. the hot water enveloping you is everything and more, and you mutter a “Gods..” as you sink in. jon’s gaze hasn’t left you once.

you sigh. “It’s strange. Being back.”

jon only nods, looking out the window, expression becoming distant as he recounts the experiences had in the safety of these walls. hide and seek games that lasted well into the night. sneaking into the kitchens. archery and sword training. nan’s old ghost stories. your shared first kiss.

the last thought has his lips quirking up in a smile, returning his sight to you only to find you already looking at him. he leans forward, arm outstretching for you.

“Come here.”

he reaches for you, and you oblige — letting him turn you around & pull you to his chest. the water sloshes as you both move, getting more comfortable than you’ve been in weeks.

his touch has always been grounding, anchoring you in a way you weren’t made to understand. right now, it’s just you and jon in your own world. no sickness, no death, no cruelty. only serenity, and you think you could stay in this moment forever. still, you know you can’t, and that the aftermath of battle awaits just outside the old wooden door.

but, for now, you both lay against the other — gaze trapped on rickons’ sill as the banner of the wolf flies once more.

[sonotkari]

Overflowing

Danielle Marsh x Fem Reader

[ Synopsis ]

As best friends, you've been together since you remember, being there for each other's lives and special moments over these years but you slowly watch her slip away.

Angst | Platonic

[ Word Count ]

1.4k short again hihi :)) (not accurate since it got retouched)

[ a/n ]

(retouched a bit 24/09/18)

I wanted to explore writing so maybe this is kind of those experiment projects hehe >< small angst oneshot and I still haven't got the hang of writing so please keep that in mind! /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Someone, somewhere out there, dis for u bae <3

You remember it like yesterday. The month of April. A hot sunny day. You were walking in the hallways, about to make a turn around the corner when you noticed her walking from the other direction, two girls each on the side as they linked their arms on hers, probably touring the girl around the school grounds.

Those slow-motion scenes in movies were unbelievable where they portray it like "the world stopped" but not until you met her gaze the moment you were passing by at each other. Feeling your heart beating in excitement, knowing that you finally met the "transferred student" teachers were talking about a few days ago. As you were also a transfer 2 weeks ago, you were curious but couldn't put up the courage to go and see her because you were shy. Too shy. But apparently, she was the opposite.

Feeling your arms being held out of the blue and yelping a bit, you turned around to your shoulder full of confusion. She was there, holding onto your arm, smiling brightly like a warm ray of sunshine.

"What's your name?" 

The two girls that were with her also seemed startled and confused at her sudden actions, gawking at both of you awkwardly stopping in the middle of the hallway. Feeling the stares of people as they passed by, you also felt your face heating up but somehow managed to mumble a name loud enough for her to hear. 

And that's how you became the best of friends with Danielle.

Everything after your small interaction happened like the speed of light. Moments you've spent with her made the connection stronger day by day, feeling that the two of you had to be together at all times, making you inseparable. Days became weeks and weeks turned into months as memories were made every second you had her by your side. Whether it was those pretend play at the park or chasing each other running at the school grounds, you loved spending time with her, feeling incomplete when she was not there laughing at the smallest things with you.

There were times that you got frustrated a lot with not being able to go home with Danielle because of how much you would constantly get into a fight with her sibling (you were very easily annoyed when they would tease you) You would often get jealous seeing the girl with her other friends and they would link their arms with Danielle. The same goes for her when you would go home with anyone other than her and it would cause a small fight but would always forget about it at the end of the day as the two of you would sing to your "theme song" while walking home after school.

All day every day, your time would be spent with Danielle always. From mornings when rushing to her classroom to greet "good morning" to between classes, going to her ranting about that one teacher who's annoying you a lot, till the end of school where you'd always stand by the gates waiting for her and walking her home. You weren't the type to get in trouble and didn't like the idea of it at all but when you were with Danielle, a little scolding, a little frown from those old wrinkled faces of teachers, a little disappointment felt like nothing but a joke. Because she was always there, by your side with you. 

Months turned to years and despite never being in the same class for who knows how long, the both of you would always find a way to make time for each other. Whether it was at the local park near Danielle's house or the small amusement park you two would often ride bikes to go to. She was always on your right, and you were on her left. As some years passed by again, you were making new friends and so did Danielle. It was never really hard for the girl because she always had the charm and humor and of course the kindness inside that attracted people easily. Not like your 8-year-old self who would've had jealousy burning inside her heart, you were happy for the girl. You knew how shy she was, making it a bit challenging to get to know people besides you and a few others. To this day you still don't understand how she had enough courage to pull your arm but regardless, you were very thankful for it. 

Things changed slowly when Danielle stopped going home with you and going with her new friends instead. It felt almost like nothing because you also had a group of friends to be with. But then it went to the point where she stopped asking to hang out. Always the one who had to ask and plan everything just so the both of you could spend time together again, you couldn't help but feel unease a tiny bit. Eventually, that also stopped somewhere and now you can barely even remember the last time you two hung out with each other. You were understnding. The girl had new friends she wanted to spend time with, and the same goes for you as well. From time to time, you'd pass by the hallways and talk to each other or make calls and texts, giving updates about the things happening around recently. 

But then everything changed upside down on the last day of the annual school trip. It's been 9 years since Danielle and you had encountered in that hallway back in grade school. Now in your second year of high school. After all these years of praying that you'd be in the same class as her, it finally came true. You were grouped with her other 3 friends from last year and it was a bit worrying since the four of them felt like a group and you were the odd one out. But you quickly brushed that thought off knowing that Dainelle was there and she'd be on your side after all. 

Oh you were wrong. 

You don't know how to word it out. 

Pain, Hurting, Betrayal, Disappointment 

Every word didn't seem right. 

Every word didn't seem enough.

While walking down the bustling road of the destination your group decided to go to, pairs were made, each walking alongside the other, and you?  There, in the very back alone walking like a shadow. Feeling like your existence was nothing else but complete air. 

Everything finally snapped inside you, feeling your heart drop the moment it became crowded and you got pushed off by tourists and several people, creating a bigger distance between the group. But never did once the girls nor Danielle looked back. You did your best to catch up but, all you saw was her bright smile, laughing at her new friends beside her as the 4 of them continued to walk off unknowingly leaving you behind.

How could you leave me here? 

What's on your mind? 

Why didn't you notice? 

Why won't you look at me? 

You know how I hated crowded places. 

You know how I get lost easily.

You know how I hated being alone. 

You know because you've been with me for 9 years now. 

You should know.

You should've known. 

Days turned to weeks, weeks turning into months after the school trip. You couldn't look at her the same, talk with her the same, heck you couldn't even smile her way anymore. Her smile shining brightly like the sun now, felt like a mocking gaze to you. Forcing yourself to look fine but deep down you feel like messing up the whole place in front of you, just letting all the emotions run over you. Every feature you liked about her now, felt like you wanted to scribble a black marker on top erasing everything instead. It was never a good feeling, looking at the back of the person you once loved dearly now, only hatred filling up your chest not even being able to look properly at them.

It's been 4 months since the both of you haven't talked. 4 months since you haven't looked her way. 4 months since and nothing, not even an inch of movement was made. You've now questioned yourself a lot more than you could remember, crying your heart out until there was nothing left to come out of your eyes. And now, finally, you've decided to let go. Let go of everything you both had between you. Easier said than done, you struggled a lot. Smiling as you have conversations with your other friends but constantly feeling the fear of thinking who's gonna be the next friend, the next person to leave you. Overthinking much more than you would and constantly breaking out alone in your room with no one to talk to since she was the one who'd get you the most. 

Things change, and we can do nothing about it. 

Just letting go, feeling lighter, and becoming filled.

Overflowing. 

dani's too sweet of a woman for this

[baby-tini]

May I ask for Mikey x fem oc or reader, in the last arc scenario when mikey goes back to the past with his memories intact and tries to find her but couldn't, and only finds her again when both of them are adults with their own jobs and everything...(Also just for it to be a little angsty maybe she died before the last time).... I'm sorry I'm so bad at this 😭

A/N- You're all good, sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy it nonetheless.\ TW- Readers death and Manjiros attempted suicide in the Bonten timeline. He looked for you, he looked everywhere for you, but you weren't anywhere too be found. He searched for you for days, then those days turned into weeks and unfortunately months. The last image he has of you, is when you died in his arms, during his Bonten days. He remembered he didn't eat or sleep for days. You were the only light in his dark life. The only thing that actually kept him going. The only reason he even thought about getting up in the morning, that's the main reason he tried too jump off that building in the first place, but then, Takemichi had saved him and promised everything would be better for him and everyone, including you. But as he went through his life, happy to have all of his friends and family alive he was grateful, don't get him wrong, but he missed you, deeply he missed you. He's never loved and cared about someone so deeply and intimately before. He never forgot about you, not even once, you were always stuck in his head as the same questions continuously ran through his mind. Where were you? Were you okay? Were you thinking about him too? If you were, were you thinking about him nearly as much as he thought of you every. single. day. It was a chance meeting in all honesty, your friend was really into motorcycles so, of course she wanted too watch the races, so when she bought tickets, and her boyfriend wasn't available, she asked you too go with her instead. You really didn't want too go at first, given motorcycles weren't really your thing, but in true bestfriend fashion, she had pleaded with you until gave in. Giving you the little puppy dog eyes as she clung to your arm with a multitude of pleas. Then demanding you get ready when you finally gave into her. When you did finally get to the racing stadium, she went crazy, telling you all about the racers and who they were. How skilled they were and what type of motorcycles they were driving. Again, being someone who really wasn't into motorcycles, you weren't really listening, just watching the bikes speed around the track until they were done and finally announced their winner, but you didn't really stay for that, instead quickly leaving too busy yourself at the taiyaki stand. You've always liked taiyaki, it being your favorite snack and all. Especially when you think about the memories you'd occasionally get, eating it with a man that you couldn't give a face or a name. "Hey, just make double and I'll pay for it." That voice... sounded so familiar, the deep rasp hitting your ears as it sent your brain into deja vu. A man, with a black undercut walked towards the stand as he pulled out his card, still dressed in a racing uniform. As he turned to look at you and your eyes locked on his, you both froze. There was a feeling of electricity that shot through the both you, as your eyes met his. The beautiful obsidian that felt so familiar yet so.. distant. "...Baby?" The mans eyes held a recognition in them as those lost memories of yours came back, clearer then before. Finally giving the man a face and a name, "Manjiro..?" The way his name fell from your lips sent a shiver up his back, as though he had been dunked in ice water. It was quick, more on instinct then anything really, as you both grabbed at each other. Clinging to the other as you ran your hands over the other. His hands running through your hair, then grabbing at your face and staring deep into your eyes while his watered.

Quickly pulling you away from the crowded area, he led you into a back alley. Quickly trapping you in his arms, chest-to-chest, he held you as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. Wrapping your arms around his waist you held him tightly, taking in the smell of his cologne, Hugo Boss, you'd never forget that smell, it would always drive you crazy whenever he wore. The smell nearly as comforting as his arms, the tan, muscular limbs wrapping around you in a vice. You both pulled back after long minutes of the tight embrace, before you could say anything though, his lips were already on yours as he buried his hands deep into your hair. Your hands coming up to run up under his shirt, feeling the hard muscle of his chest and abs, trying too recite everything to memory as he pulled closer. Only pulling back too catch his breath before diving back in and holding your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks, as if, too also recite everything to memory. Reluctantly pulling away, he leaned his forehead against yours as he panted against your lips, your breath mixing with his as he stared you down with those wide black eyes, no longer empty and cold. Instead they were warm and loving, his pupils dilated as he took you in, the image of you dying in his arms coming back as he held you closer while he felt his eyes got wet, the salty liquid dripping down his cheeks. "Don't ever leave me again... I can't be without you baby, you're all I ever think about, I need you, I love you so much."

[jjkamochoso]

I Survived Shiganshina and All I Got Was This Stupid T Shirt

Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Levi Ackerman x gn!reader

The battle at Shinganshina is here—how will Levi cope with the imminent death of another person he loved?

Warnings: cussing, violence, mentions of blood and death

A shiver flew through your entire body, your bones shaking under your skin. Your fingers were having trouble fastening the emerald green cape around your neck, the button slipping from your quivering grasp, as you got ready for what was most likely the last battle you’d ever enter. You had just witnessed the best Scouts get absolutely demolished by the Beast Titan, torn to shreds by the boulders he threw with no mercy, and you were only saved from that early demise due to Erwin asking you to fight elsewhere with Levi and the new recruits. Now, here you all were, scared out of your minds under the flimsy cover of buildings as pieces of rock threatened to pummel you at any second. Meanwhile, you were too busy dealing with this fucking cape that you couldn’t fucking button because your fucking nerves—

“Take a breath, brat.”

Your anger was immediately quelled by the sound of Levi’s calm voice as you felt his nimble fingers make quick work of the closure. His steel eyes were boring into your own and if it were any other time, you’d look away shyly, but your lives were about to expire and there was no way you’d want to focus on anything but the man in front of you.

“I can feel your heart pounding through your cape. You need to relax.”

His words were stern but you knew the concern that lay behind them. The captain still hadn’t pulled his hands away from your body after helping you out, opting to hold you close in the only way he knew how. You and Levi had made your affections for each other known a few months back after many years of friendship but agreed that it wasn’t the time for romance of any sort so you found yourselves locked in a relationship that was a mix of platonic and whatever a step beyond that was. Right now you wanted nothing more than to give him the deepest, most passionate kiss you had in you but you were all too aware that you dedicated your heart to the Scouts and betterment of humanity, not just to the famed captain so you couldn’t take your mind off the task at hand—keeping your cadets alive for as long as possible.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you told him, regret oozing from your mouth. You weren’t apologizing for only today, but for all your past mistakes. He deserved to know you took accountability for all your transgressions, both professional and personal. If only you knew then what you knew now… you would’ve made countless different choices to lead you and your soldiers to victory rather than sitting in a clump waiting to die. You could’ve been at home, content in the arms of the man you loved rather than participating in the macabre game of seeing whose light in their eyes goes out first.

“No regrets. We made our choices and there’s no going back. We have to look forward.”

You nodded in agreement and he reluctantly pulled his hand from the worn fabric, you immediately missing the warmth of his touch. Levi left to talk with Erwin on what to do next while you tried to calm the new recruits.

Was Levi scared?

That’s a loaded question.

Technically speaking? No. There was nothing fearful about an overpowered, loud, ugly, shitty excuse of a monkey, even if said monkey was making quick work killing the Survey Corps. Levi knew he could kill him. It would take speed and finesse, traits he utilized in every mission, so no, Levi wasn’t scared of that.

Levi was scared to lose you.

He had seen too many of his comrades fall, his loved ones fade away from existence. With every death he found a way to keep moving, carrying their fighting spirit with him, but if you died?

That would be a major blow to his morale.

That was why he was currently debating with Erwin, desperate to find an escape route for you and the recruits. He could beat the Beast Titan in a fight, that he was sure of, but the sacrifice of Erwin, you, and the rest of the cadets would be a devastating waste of lives. Would it be worth it to kill the Beast Titan now instead of letting everyone retreat? Would it be worth the loss of his two closest friends?

The loss of the love of his life?

As a captain in the Survey Corps, it was your duty to give your heart for the survival of humanity. Why was it so damn hard for Levi to see you do just that?

“Give up on that dream and die. Lead the captain and those new recruits into hell. And I will take down the Beast Titan.”

You anxiously awaited word from Levi and Erwin on what the plan was going to be. More buildings had collapsed and it was only a matter of time before all your shelter was gone and it would be a full on massacre. You hoped they were about to bring good news. Erwin stood proud in front of the recruits while Levi took his place next to you, wearing a somber expression and you knew that spelled disaster.

“There was no other way,” he said, confusing you until Erwin began explaining his strategy to the group. When you heard you were going to be riding straight into your death, you were struck with a million different emotions. Fear, anger, and grief were the ones you felt the strongest until Levi’s face entered your peripheral and finally you settled on relief. You had been fighting your entire life for peace for your loved ones and this was no time to turn your back on gaining the opportunity for humanity’s survival. Besides, a quick, meaningful death was being served to you on a platter in this situation which was all you could ask for. After Erwin’s rousing speech, you felt even more secure in your position as a distraction to help Levi eradicate the Beast Titan. Levi was deathly quiet throughout the whole ordeal and you couldn’t get a read on how he was feeling.

“I was upset at the plan at first,” you told Levi as recruits were rushing around you, mounting horses and dodging rocks, “but I get it. It’s what we signed up to do. I just hate that I’m leaving you so early.”

He didn’t say anything as he received horse reigns from a frenzied soldier, studying your face and committing everything to memory. If this was the last time he’d see you, he wanted to make sure he’d never forget it.

“Titan got your tongue, Captain?” you joked, shooting Levi a soft smile and gripping your own horse’s reigns in a white knuckle grip. Levi reached out, his free hand ghosting over your tense hold.

“I thought I told you to relax. And I know my own shitty voice, I want to remember yours.”

“I love you so much, Levi,” you suddenly blurted out. “Don’t let these words become a curse or a burden, I just need you to know that my feelings were real. You can take them with you or leave them here in this graveyard if that’s where they belong but I couldn’t die without telling you.”

Levi was quiet again.

You started to mount your horse, ready to give your all in your final battle before eternal rest. Before you could swing your leg up, you felt a fist connect to your chest.

“You’ve dedicated your heart,” said Levi, his eyes unnaturally wet as he looked steadfastly at you one last time, “to the cause, to the Scouts… to me. I won’t let you down. Your death won’t be in vain. And when I die, whenever that may be, I look forward to seeing you again.”

You felt tears ready to drop but you refused to let them fall.

You extended your pinky. “You promise you’ll take down that shitty monkey?”

Levi copied the motion and you trembled at the skin on skin contact.

“I swear on my life. This is my promise to you, y/n.”

You released the intertwined pinkies and touched your own hand to his chest, letting it rest above his fast beating heart. “It’s been an honor, Captain.”

“Same to you, Captain.”

You smiled and relinquished your limb from his body, swinging your leg over your horse and waiting for the command from Erwin. You saw Levi mount his horse and in that moment, you understood the full extent of why the public viewed him as a humanity’s strongest soldier. His unyielding conviction and resolute attitude in the face of impossible decisions was truly exemplary. The regal way he sat atop his horse was nothing less than extraordinary and the way he handled his blades with such ease and grace was absolutely swoon worthy. You considered yourself the luckiest person in the world to have known him as well as you did. You gave each other one last head nod before his horse galloped away, ready to ambush the Beast Titan. Your job just got even more important. You weren’t going to fail him. You weren’t going to let him die.

Blood. Pain. The smell of smoke signals.

These were all things that filled your senses to the brim as you charged forward, screaming until your throat burned and your lungs gave out. The first bombardment had left you dazed, a large piece of rock whizzing by your head and hitting you just enough to make you nauseous and almost fall off your horse. You pressed on, not giving up so soon. The only way you’d let yourself die is when you feel like you accomplished what you set out to do. Levi needed more time, more distractions, and so, you weren’t finished yet. You loaded more smoke shells into your gun and fired off more rounds, the deafening cries of fallen soldiers filling your ears. The Beast Titan had picked up another handful of boulders and you knew your time was running out. You rode as fast as you could, feeling sorry for the inevitable end your horse was going to meet as well, but your sacrifices were going to help the next generations grow up in a better world.

Another bombardment was on its way.

Shrapnel and boulders began showering over you. You yanked on your horse’s reigns and you narrowly missed a chunk of rock. More smoke signals left your gun as you twisted your body around to see who was still standing. Just you and three others.

It was the end for you.

You wished you could’ve survived long enough to see Levi kick the monkey’s ass, but fate was cruel as the Beast took up one last handful of soon-to-be-projectiles. Your horse’s legs kicked up dirt clods in a frenzy at the speed you were going and you were hoping she was having a good time running free like this, unaware of the death she was about to face. The Beast Titan’s arm threw itself forward and you released the last smoke shell in your gun. As the rocks rained down on you and the last of your soldiers, you could’ve sworn you saw Levi’s silhouette through the smoke. Your horse got struck by the last of the boulder pieces and you flew off, striking the ground with a large thump. The last thing you saw before everything went black was a memory of Levi smiling at some stupid shit joke you made in the dining hall one evening.

There was a faint feeling of someone touching your neck and you didn’t know if you were in the afterlife or not. It was certainly bright enough to be the afterlife since the light was basically blinding you through your closed eyelids. You tried to move, speak, anything, but your body wasn’t cooperating. You tried moving toward the light, like what people say happens when you die, but you didn’t feel any different when you finally opened your eyes. In fact, you felt like absolute shit. You had a pounding headache and it was like every bone in your body was broken. You registered the hand on your neck again.

Probably feeling for a pulse.

“Levi?” you croaked out, “Levi? Is that… you?”

“Captain! Captain, can you hear me?”

“Levi?” you tried again. It didn’t sound like him but you weren’t sure of anything anymore.

“No, it’s Floch. Captain y/n, it’s Floch. We have to get out of here. You have to get up!”

Get up? You could barely open your eyes. And what the fuck was Floch doing here, sounding like he didn’t just experience the worst day of his life?

“Commander Erwin is still alive but he’s bleeding out. We have to get him to Levi to save him!”

Levi. Just his name put a smile to your face. Right. You have to save Erwin and see Levi. Two very agreeable missions to accomplish, in your opinion. You forced yourself to peel your eyelids apart and the sun burst in your retinas like a floodgate had opened. You ignored the burning and bruising sensations in the rest of your body as Floch helped you up. You definitely busted some ribs, suffered a major concussion, scraped open your face, and had a broken arm and ankle, but all things considering, that wasn’t the worst outcome. You were relieved that Levi survived the Beast Titan bout. The mental image of Levi severing the monkey’s head gave you a burst of energy and you were able to walk a little bit faster, Floch holding you up as you made your way to grab Erwin and find Levi. When you got to Erwin, you were exhausted and sat down while Floch shoddily bandaged up the commander.

“Can you walk on your own? I have to carry him or else he won’t survive.”

You nodded. “I’ll either do it or I won’t. If I fall, keep going to Levi and don’t worry about me.”

“Okay.”

You two started your treacherous trek into the walls. It was eerily quiet after the battle, the scent of blood filling your nostrils and you weren’t sure if it was your dead comrades’ or your own. You stumbled more times than you could count and there were a few moments where you thought you’d fall and die in the same spot, but before you knew it, you had come upon Eren, Mikasa, and a charred body…

“W-who is that?” you cried out, trying to keep from throwing up. It was the right size and build to be Levi but there was no way he got burned, right? That wouldn’t make sense at all but your delirious mind had been through too much to work properly.

“It’s Armin,” said an all too familiar voice.

“Levi!” You fell to your knees from fatigue, both physical and emotional. You were overjoyed that he was completely unharmed but on the other hand, you witnessed the burnt body of a wonderful young man with friends who tried to protect him with all their might. You felt strong arms grip your body as Levi moved you to a better spot on the roof, away from Armin and the other teens and leaned you up against the remnants of a chimney.

“I’m happy you’re alive,” you said wearily, ready to pass out.

“Same to you,” he said, frowning slightly, “but hey, don’t close your eyes. Stay awake for as long as you can. We’ll get you to a doctor soon.”

This time it was you who didn’t respond, your head lolling against the stone as your eyes shut.

“Y/n. Y/n.” Levi was shaking you by your shoulders and lightly tapping your face but there was no response. He located your pulse and it wasn’t scarily faint so he decided to leave you be for now while he dealt with a new, huge problem—deciding to continue with saving Armin or giving the serum to the freshly returned from the battlefront Erwin.

When you finally woke up again, you were greeted with Hange (minus one eye) staring at you like you were their newest titan experiment.

“Glad to have you back with us, y/n,” they said, clapping your shoulder gently. “I didn’t want to lose anyone else today.”

“Who did he choose?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

Hange stiffened ever so slightly. “Armin.”

“Good,” you replied, ���Erwin had been through enough and met death in the most fitting manner for him. Armin and those other kids are our future. He made the right choice.”

“I agree.” They helped you sit up and your bones creaked in protest at the movement. You saw that you had a hastily arranged splint on your left ankle while your arm was in a sling made from part of someone’s shirt and sensed the pull of a bandage along your cheek and down your jaw. Levi heard you talking and quickly came over to fill you in on what was next.

“You’re going to the top of Wall Maria with what’s left of the Scouts so you can get to Trost and recuperate. Hange, Mikasa, Eren, and I are going to the basement.”

“I can go, too.” You tried to shift position and stand but you were too weak, your body giving out on you as adrenaline was quickly draining. Levi rushed to your aid, letting you support yourself against his leg as you sat again.

“You can barely sit on your own, let alone walk to Eren’s house. You’re going to Trost, y/n, and that’s an order.”

You looked up and met his eyes; they were filled with concern and you were washed in shame at your lack of self awareness. Of course you couldn’t go, you’d only slow them down. Now was not the time to act rash in the name of selfish desires for answers. Levi borrowed Eren’s ODM gear to bring you to the top of Wall Maria since his own gear was out of gas and pretty busted up. You bid your goodbyes to Hange and the kids as Levi deftly scooped you into his arms, mindful of your numerous injuries, and began swinging through the ruins of Shiganshina.

“So, did you bring them with you?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“Bring what?”

“The words. The ones I told you before the battle. Did they die with our comrades or did you bring them with you?”

“I-” Levi faltered. “I… brought them with me. You mean a great deal to me, y/n. When I sent you out on the battleground I refused to let you die in vain, you’re worth too much for that. But I made a promise to you and Erwin that I’d kill that shitty Beast Titan and I failed. I’m sorry.”

“Levi,” you said, your hand finding purchase on his cheek, “it’s alright. You did your best and I’m proud of everything you accomplished today. We can try again and keep trying after that as many times as we need to, and we won’t give up. We can do this. Together.”

His lips were pressed in a firm line as you felt his grip on you tighten. You had almost scaled the wall when Levi spoke up.

“I had made peace with your death but now that you’re back with me, I won’t lose you again.”

You were now walking atop the wall and you spied Sasha and Conny from your position. Levi helped you hobble over, a firm and comforting grasp on your waist. When they greeted you both, Conny said the group was about to take off for Trost. Levi knew he couldn’t continue wasting time here but he had this ache gnawing inside him at the idea of someone other than himself taking care of your injuries. He didn’t want to leave you alone but you both had jobs to do—him to find answers in the kid’s basement, and you to rest up. He noticed your cape was undone and sliding off so he moved it back into place, ignoring the revolting squish of fresh blood under his fingers, and affixed the button to the loop. The action was the same as a few hours prior but the result would be much different. Instead of you marching to your death, you were heading to be healed. Instead of wrapping you in a body bag, he could try wrapping you in his arms.

Levi smiled internally at the thought.

“I’ll come see you as soon as I can,” he said, sincerity shining from his irises. “Listen to the doctors and don’t be stupid. You need to get stronger. Make sure you get plenty of rest and eat lots. Don’t get dehydrated, you have to keep your fluid intake up after injury. Don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need it, that’s what the staff is there for.”

“Okay, mom,” you teased. Levi scoffed and you just giggled.

“I’m looking out for you, brat, so take my advice.” His tone had gone soft, no bite behind his words whatsoever. You made the connection that this was his way of saying “I love you” and you let out a sigh of relief that he was returning the weighty phrase. You became aware that his hands were resting on the same junction of your cape’s button and clasp like before, not making an effort to pull away any time soon if he could help it. But he couldn’t help it since you were being called over to start your journey to Trost so his touch ceased from the heavy fabric as you gave him one last tender look.

“Take care of yourself, Captain.”

He reached over to ruffle your hair. “You too, Captain.”

You heard the zip of ODM gear and Levi was gone in a flash. Though you felt like a piece of you was missing without Levi by your side, you knew he’d be back with you in no time. As you limped along the wall with your hurt comrades, you felt a fire ignite deep within your soul.

The Beast Titan was going to pay.