#I still want it to be family friendly after all

[nebulousmoon3990]

GHOSTS OF THE PAST (Batfam x neglected hero reader)

I 𓂃› GHOSTS

Warning: neglect (unintentional), Damian being Damian, violence, blood, swearing, sensitive topics, writing errors (English is not my first language) and reader has black hair and blue eyes (sorry), I accept criticism but please don't be rude, everything is fictional!

You consider yourself a good son

I mean, you were never a saint, there were times when you did stupid things and got into trouble with her, but you always managed to solve them. But apparently the universe decided that you weren't good enough.

Not for your family at least.

You were just another product of your father's affair, the only difference is that you were born (something that wasn't supposed to happen) but that's okay! Your mother still loved you and took care of you with all the love she had to offer.

She never spoke openly about your father, but you saw on TV the news about your mother, the great writer from Gotham, with the businessman Bruce Wayne. You were always smart and quickly connected the dots but you didn't question your mother because she was clearly uncomfortable, so you kept quiet and let it go, because you didn't need him. You already had your mother, you already had your uncles, even your little friends from school! You don't need your father.

That is until she died.

It was when you were four years old, you had gone to the market to buy things for dinner and on the way a criminal tried to steal them, your mother trying to protect you ended up with a bullet in the chest, you remember little, but you remember that he ran away while your mother died in front of you. After that you thought you were going to be sent to an orphanage, believe your surprise when your father came to take you home. The first time you saw him you were surprised by how much alike you were: same hair, same eyes, your face was really your mother's, but your skin was his, you were a perfect mix of your mother and your father, at the time you loved it but now... you are not so sure.

When you arrived at the mansion, you met your half-siblings. You were so excited. You always wanted a sibling, since you spent a lot of time alone. The possibility of having siblings made you very happy. The first was Dick: a bright smile and the sunshine of the family. Dick was friendly with you and at least bothered to ask a little about you, like your age or when your birthday was. But the next day, he completely forgot about you. Even though he lived in Bludhaven, he visited the mansion often. Of all your siblings, you felt the most excluded by him. While he said that family was the most important thing, he ignored you. Maybe it wasn't intentional, but what's the point of apologizing for not being there if you don't change anything?

The second was Tim: the Robin of the time. Tim was just... Tim, he was never that neglectful with you, but he didn't try to get closer either. He had no opinion for you. You would say that Tim was observant, quiet, and cold. He would help you if he saw that you needed help, the problem was that he was never there, so he never had time for you (like everyone else).

The third was Jason: in your opinion he was your favorite, Jason was the one in the house who gave you some attention. It wasn't always, but when he came to the mansion he really cared about asking about you.

"Why are you so skinny?" "Are you doing well in your studies?" "Is someone bothering you, brat?" and things like that. Jason wasn't that close but he was never distant either, that's why he was your favorite, but just like Tim he was never there when you needed him, since he couldn't stay at the mansion much (you believe that part of the blame is Bruce).

Then came the rest of your siblings, Barbara was always busy like Bruce and Dick, Cassandra and Stephanie weren't interested in you, and Duke never exchanged more than two or three words with you.

And then to top it all off came Damian: your younger brother. You thought that even though Damian was Al Grul's (trained to kill and all) maybe, just maybe, you two could have a good relationship.

Oh, how terribly wrong you were.

And you realized it the moment Damian almost cut your throat with his sword. That day Damian was reprimanded by Bruce while Dick was taking care of his neck, from what you understood Damian thought he needed to kill you to become Robin. 

You, a civilian, almost wanted to laugh at his presumption that you could be a vigilante when you couldn't even lift your backpack properly. After that day you didn't get close to Damian again, the fear of him doing something to you terrified you to the core. Damian realized it, you knew it by the looks he gave you, but whether it was pride or shame he never apologized to you.

Bruce never had time for you, wrapped up in work and as Batman his time was precious and he had to spend it on what was necessary, and you understood that.

You understood all of them.

But...it still hurt.

It hurt your soul a lot.

That's why you stopped trying to impress them, stopped enrolling in classes they liked just to get their attention, stopped bothering them to get some family time. You gave up, simple as that, the family didn't care, probably not even knowing about it.

There was Alfred, who probably spent the most time with you, acting like a grandfather. But Alfred is also Bruce's butler and the sidekick to Gotham's heroes, he couldn't spend all his time with you either (you accepted that, it was okay).

But sometimes there were rare moments that happened, moments when they cared, when you saw a little bit of love from them towards you.

Like when Jason gave you one of his sweatshirts for your birthday, one that you really liked (you still wear it to this day, it's still too big on you).Or when you didn't have a partner for your history project since no one was your friend, so Dick and Tim spent half the night helping you with it. Or when school bullies beat you up, you went back to the mansion (which was empty) with a black eye, just so Damian could see you. By some miracle, you convinced him not to tell Bruce, thinking that the matter had died there, you went back to your room only for Damian to knock on your door in the middle of the night and give you a pair of brass knuckles for you to use next time (you never used them, but knowing that he cared was comforting).

I think the most important of these moments was when Bruce showed up at your elementary school graduation. Thanks to your mother, you were more gifted than the others, advancing a few years in school, making you finish school before your age. Imagine: a pre-teen in the middle of almost adults with other adults looking at you (it's desperate) but you saw him, Bruce Wayne together with Alfred looking at you for the first time. He didn't stay until the end, but he was still there, he was there for you.

That's why you hated them.

How dare they? Play with your heart like that, giving you hope that maybe you could be a normal family, a happy family. You hated that, you hated having hope, you hated that they cared and then left you aside.

And what you hate the most is that every time you fall for their talk.

That's why you're taking some time for yourself, far away from them at your aunt's house. In two weeks it will be your fourteenth birthday and you decided this time to spend it with your aunt, to try to forget about your life in Gotham with your family (besides, it had been years since you saw her, it was time to get over the longing).

You told her well in advance, already planning it since the beginning of the month, so now at the train station you didn't feel any worries as you got on the bus.

You didn't tell your family, they wouldn't even care, you just told Alfred so that the poor man wouldn't have a heart attack if he didn't see you in the room.

Maybe if you had told them, this wouldn't have happened.

Dick loves his family.

No matter how many problems they have, he will always love them, family is everything to him.

So why these days has he felt like he's forgetting something?

Was it training with Damian? No, that was for tomorrow, maybe patrol with Bruce? That was impossible to forget, could there have been something with Tim? He doesn't remember his brother asking him for something, maybe Cass? She said a friend was going to have his birthday-

birthday.

(Name's) birthday.

The realization hit him like a train, that was it! His birthday, he had completely forgotten about it, when will it be? If he remembers, will it be in two weeks? You're going to be-

How old are you again?

No, that's absurd, he knows how old you are, he would be stupid not to. You must be twelve? No! Thirteen? But he doesn't remember your thirteenth birthday.

In fact, he doesn't remember any of your birthdays.

Okay, maybe he doesn't remember now, but he was definitely there for your birthday, he's your big brother! Why wouldn't he be?

Okay, he decided that as soon as he finished patrolling with the rest of the family he would talk to everyone about it.

As he jumped between the rooftops his phone vibrated loudly, but he didn't bother to look at it, he would check it later.

Hurry up Dick, before it's too late.

Tim was monitoring the batcave today, helping with location and crimes remotely. Today would be a normal patrol, too calm. Tim hated these patrols, too calm and preparing for the storm.

This time a hurricane would come and no one would be prepared.

The first to arrive was Jason, who came just to help with the investigation of a particular case. He leaned on the table next to Tim and watched the cameras and sensors on the television he controlled. The second was Bruce and Damian. Bruce went to talk to Alfred and Damian went to the table in the center where Tim's phone was. Tim, listening to Dick's message, who was near the mansion, almost didn't hear the youngest Wayne talking.

"Someone's calling you." Tim looked at Damian, who turned on his phone. Without worrying, he went back to the computer. "I can answer later." Damian apparently wasn't satisfied and turned on the phone only to see that the flames were his, his name engraved on the screen. "It's our sister's." "Cass's?"

"(Name's)" Now that caught Jason's attention. He looked at the youngest Wayne. For some reason, a bad feeling took over him, the same feeling that something bad was going to happen. "Oh, that's it. I'm kind of busy here. Can you see what she wants for me?"

Grimacing, Damian would have put the phone down, but something inside him told him to check, to check, so he picked up the phone and unlocked it to find over twenty missed calls from him “oh my”

“What’s wrong?” Bruce approached the boys, having vaguely heard the conversation. “There are over twenty calls and at least fifteen messages” now that really caught everyone’s attention.

“What?” Jason answered for everyone, breaking the silence that settled in the room, but Damian didn’t bother to answer, instead going to the messages, he was going to go through them when a word caught his attention.

Help 

Just with that the bad feeling inside Damian grew, his behavior changing and showing the others that the matter was serious “Oh shit."

“What’s going on” Dick finally arrived, only to find the tense atmosphere in the room, as he walked Damian went through the messages finding words like “help” “help” “invaded” and “bus”

“Damian what happened” he opened the voicemail, seeing many of them only in the last hour, he put it on maximum volume for him and the others to hear.

"T-Tim please pick up" your voice came out shaky, low almost in a whisper and desolate, full of fear "I-I... I tried calling Dick a-and even Bruce" the sobs of your voice were restricted by your mouth, sighing heavily a bang was heard on the other end startling you "I-I need help... p-please" and so the voicemail ended

“The mansion was invaded?!” Jason didn’t ask anyone in particular, but Tim went to see the footage of the mansion for the last few hours anyway. “No, no one came into the house.”

“Where is she?” Dick was quick to pick up the phone, just like Damian, he came across at least twenty voicemails for him. To get attention, Alfred coughed lightly and automatically everyone’s heads turned in his direction. “Master (Name) went out to spend her birthday with her aunt who lives in New York.”

And that’s how chaos exploded.

The next minute, everyone’s voices echoed through the cave. “What?!” “What do you mean?!” “When did she tell you that!?” Bruce replied as he walked towards Tim’s computer. “She didn’t tell you anything, Alfred, why didn’t you tell me?”

Alfred looked at his master, almost exploding at such stupidity, he knew Bruce didn't have time for you but he also made it clear that he didn't care about you, it was no surprise that you hadn't even warned him before, but respecting you (and master Bruce) he answered. "Master (Name) thought it wasn't necessary, he told me only if you gentlemen asked for her." Tim went back to the computer, now not scanning the streets of Gotham, but looking for you, Dick scrolled through the voicemail and clicked on the most recent one, made 15 minutes ago, his voice once again filled the air making everyone hear you.

This time the line started in silence, only your agitated breathing being heard, it is possible to hear a whisper much quieter than before on the line "Dick please, I-I... I beg p-please, please, p-please, p-please, please-" you were silenced by the noise of something near you, your breathing was weak, footsteps echoed wherever you were, you approached the phone and whispered into the cell phone "save me" when you finished speaking voices approached and then a scream came from you, your phone fell somewhere far from you but even so it was possible to hear your screams and your fight for the cell phone until the line finally ended

“Holy shit…” tension built up in the room, the family was completely stunned by the line, Jason was the first to go looking for him, Dick tried to stop him but he went looking for him too, Damian and Bruce left soon after and Tim went back to his computer at full speed.

They need to find you, Now!

But it was too late

“Tim tell me you found her” Jason shouted on the line as he moved with Dick, the two of them as well as the rest were moving at each of the bus stops to look for their route, the result was nothing.

Tim huffed on the line, irritated with his brother. “If you stopped asking me every two minutes maybe I would find her”

“Your-”

“Enough fighting! That’s not the focus right now” Dick said to Jason and Tim, although his harsh tone gave him away showing how exasperated he was. “Our focus is to find (Name)” Jason looked ahead accepting his brother, they had to find her, he needed to.

Jason wouldn’t forgive himself if his sister died.

“I found her!” Tim shouted excitedly, the spark of hope on his face until he saw the bus where he was “oh no” his heart started beating faster, fear started to settle in his body, but he remained paralyzed without being able to move. 

“Tim? Tim, what happened? Tim saw on the computer the image of his bus fallen to the ground, with fire gathering around it. The red robin could only move when he heard Bruce's voice. With his fingers shaking, Tim sent the image of the accident to each person's cell phone.

Bruce could feel his heart beating out of his chest, the sight of the bus lying on the ground, burned and destroyed was enough to make his heart stop, Damian was in no different situation, all he could think about was your face, scared and afraid of him.

He wanted to see you.

Everyone wanted to see you, but it was too late.

The hurricane passed and destroyed everything

“This morning, news shook all of Gotham, a bus destined for New York was intentionally unloaded in the middle of the road. In total, of the twenty-two passengers, five were injured and seven were kidnapped, among those kidnapped was the second youngest daughter of the great businessman Bruce Wayne, (Name) Wayne, the police are investigating the case-” the television was turned off by Jason, who threw the remote control hard on the couch, now with all the brothers gathered (Barbara, Cass, Stephanie and Duke there too) they were waiting for news from Bruce, who went to a press conference to speak at home with Alfred. Dick, trying to calm his brother, approached him and put his hand on his shoulder “Jason, we're going to find her-”

“Are we going to find her? She might be dead now!” Jason said without thinking, but the mood in the room dropped even more than it already was. Both the guilt and the despair of losing you were what terrified not only Jason, but everyone in that room.

“She’s not dead.” Damian was the one who calmed the situation, approaching the two of them. “You saw it yourself, she was taken, but she’s alive.”

“And who can guarantee that she’s not dead, huh, demon?” The youngest Wayne narrowed his eyes. Jason was right too. Who can guarantee that she’s not already dead? Who can guarantee that she’s not already six feet under, buried?

“(Name) isn’t dead.” Bruce and Alfred entered the mansion. Wayne’s suit was all wrinkled, but he didn’t care. Maybe it was because he had more important things to worry about. “She isn’t dead, and we’re going to find her.”

“Even if it’s just her corpse.”

Oh, okay that was a lot of work to do, enjoy.

@bunbunboysworld - @h-ib - @sheep-from-rad - @tatsuri-zomushiki - @the-holy-pigeon - @geminis93

Tchau.

[marauder-misprint]

Animal person

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.6k words

cw: smoking, drinking, fluff

With a drink in one hand and Marlene’s cat in your lap being pet by the other, sitting on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room was proving to be more fun than you had imagined. You were only there since Marlene wanted Dorcas there and Dorcas didn’t want to go alone. So, you got dragged from the dungeons to Gryffindor Tower. Conversations surrounded you as the Gryffindors animatedly told stories and jokes fueled by spiked punch. Marlene’s cat somehow managed to purr loud enough for you to hear her over everything around you. 

“I swear, she loves you more than me!” Marlene pouts as she is snuggled into Dorcas’ side on the couch. 

You laugh. “I’m an animal person, what can I say? They love me.”

As if on cue, the cat looks up at you and mews. 

“How come you don’t have a pet then?” Dorcas asks, tipping her cup toward you before bringing it back to her lips.

“Mum’s not as animal-friendly as I am,” you say with a shrug. “So I’m waiting until after Hogwarts when I move out.”

“Going to get your own cat?” Lily asks from the chair next to you. 

“No. Dog.”

“Dog?” Marlene gasps. 

“I’m a big dog person.”

“Are you now?” James asks, suddenly joining the conversation despite having been in the middle of one with Remus and Peter.

“Yes?” you reply, unsure why that caught his attention.

“You should get to know Sirius then,” Remus says, gesturing to the window off to the side where Sirius is. He’s leaning against the wall, peering out the slightly cracked open window. He blows a puff of smoke out into the night. 

“He likes dogs?” you ask. 

“You could say that,” James says with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

You look at the girls, trying to get a read off of them. They offer no insight to why the boys want to send you in Sirius’ direction.

“Didn’t get the vibe that his family was all that into animals, based on Regulus.”

“Yeah, well, Sirius, he's different than his brother, yeah,” James rattles off. “Bit of a dog himself, if you know what I mean.”

Remus barks a laugh, leaning on Peter who is also laughing. The girls exchange glances of annoyance. You cast a wary look toward Sirius and take a sip of your drink. The cat nudges your now-limp hand, asking for your petting to resume. 

“Anyways,” you say, trying to turn the conversation back from the boy smoking at the window, “any of you lot done Slughorn’s essay?”

“I have,” Lily and Remus say at the same time, causing them to smile at each other and laugh. 

“Of course our prefects have the homework done,” Marlene says.

“Not going to lie, I’m more than okay I didn’t score well enough to take N.E.W.T. level Potions,” Dorcas says. “Never really liked Slug anyways.”

“He’s our head of house!” you laugh before taking a sip of your drink and then deciding to down it. 

“Does not mean I have to like him,” she defends. “I bet they all don’t like McGonagall.”

“That woman is a saint!” James declares. 

“A saint who gives you detention once a week?” Lily snorts. 

“Sometimes more,” Peter corrects her. “Depends how busy we are.”

“And he’s usually busier than the rest of us,” Remus adds. 

You gently shift the cat over to Marlene; it lets out a chirp of protest. You shake your empty cup in a silent explanation to Marlene’s confused look that she gave you. You head over to the punch bowl and refill your cup. Instead of returning to the couch, you decide to humor the Gryffindors and approach Sirius. 

“I’ve heard smoking is bad for you,” you say, leaning against the wall opposite of him. 

He takes a drag and blows the smoke in your face, causing you to slightly grimace. However, once the smoke clears from in front of your face and you can see his smirk, you take the cigarette from his hand and take your own drag, blowing smoke back into his face. 

“Oi! Out the window!” some yells from nearby. 

You hand Sirius the cigarette back. 

“Keep it,” he says. “I got a whole pack.”

You’re still holding out the cig to him. 

“I don’t smoke.”

He rolls his eyes. 

“So you’re just going to stand here then?”

You shake your head and take a sip from your cup. Once you lower it from your lips, he takes the cup from you, taking his own sip. When he gives it back, he takes the cigarette back. 

“Eye for an eye, huh,” you say, a smile playing on your lips. 

“Drinking’s bad for your liver,” he says, looking you up and down. “You’re not a Gryffindor,” he adds after a moment. 

“Good observation.”

He looks around the room as if taking account of who is all there. It’s mostly Gryffindors, Dorcas and maybe two Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. He looks back at you.

“Who’re you here with? Not exactly open invite.”

You take a sip of your drink. 

“With you right now, aren’t I?” There’s a hint of flirtation in your voice. 

His eyes narrow. 

“Who let you in?” he rephrases his question. 

“Marlene.”

He looks back at the couch where Marlene was watching them intently. She was still leaning into Dorcas’ side and petting her cat. He hums, coming to a conclusion. 

“Meadowes…” He chuckles dryly. “How’s my brother dearest?”

“Apparently less into animals than you are.”

He cocks his head. 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug, taking the cigarette for another drag and this time, you blow the smoke out the cracked window. As you do so, the cold night air really hits your face and you relish how refreshing it feels compared to the hot common room. 

“I said I’m a dog person and Lupin declares I should get to know you.”

He barks out a laugh and shoots a look towards the boys who are all smiling wickedly as they have also been watching the two of you converse. You look between the boys and Sirius before taking another drag on the cigarette. 

“Some joke I’m missing?” you ask, forcibly placing the dying cigarette back in his hand. “Potter said you were a bit of a dog yourself,” you add, imitating James. “But I’d have to be dense to not know what that means.”

He looks back at you, smiling a bit wider now. 

“And what does that mean?” he asks, ignoring your original question. 

“It’s how you treat women,” you say with an eye roll. 

You take a large sip of your drink before crossing your arms. You watch as his grey eyes take you in again. Trying not to feel unsure of yourself, you look him over. He’s still in his uniform, although it’s more disheveled than it usually is, shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up and tie barely hanging on. His hair was partially tied back to be kept out of his face. 

“I get good responses from the ladies,” he says nonchalantly. 

“But do you deserve it?” 

“They leave satisfied and come back for more,” he says with a wink. 

He snuffs out the cigarette and pulls out the pack to retrieve another one. You reach out to lower the box and put it back in his pocket. 

“It reeks.”

“But you had some!”

“Hmm, no. I don’t smoke.”

He reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a packet of gum. He offers you one and you accept it, popping it immediately into your mouth. 

“‘Preciate it. Dory’s already going to kill me for abandoning her tonight; I don’t need double time because of your bad habit.”

“Darling, you already smell of it.”

“Because you blew it at me, instead of out the window.”

“You just have all the answers, don’t you?”

“Most of ‘em.”

“Yeah?” His voice was teasing. “What’s something you don’t know?”

“Why your friends thought I should get to know you.”

“Because I’m an absolute delight.” 

You laugh. “Right, and Reg is a fucking ray of sunshine.”

“He’s an acquired taste,” Sirius muses. 

“Like you’re not?”

“I repeat, I am a delight.”

His gaze seems to be challenging you to disagree. 

“You’re an acquired taste too. And,” you sigh, “it appears your brother is more to my pallet.”

You pat his shoulder and give him a gentle smile before turning to head back to the couch. You can feel his eyes follow you. You pause in front of Dorcas and Marlene. 

“Meadowes, do you need me to stay? I’m thinking of heading back.”

Lily looks at you from her chair. “Did he say something?”

“Huh? Black? No,” you say, shaking your head. “Just done with tonight.”

“Fine, go,” Dorcas says. You knew she was far too content to leave Marlene just yet, if at all that night.

Back in your own common room, you spot Regulus sitting on the couch by the fireplace. He’s reading. You plop down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. You hear him audibly sniff the air. 

“Why do you smell like my brother?”

“I was Meadowes’ escort to Gryffindor Tower tonight,” you say nonchalantly. “Surprise, surprise, he was there.”

“Okay, but you smell strongly of him.”

“Smoke and mint gum is your brother’s signature scent?”

“That and those leather jackets…” he mumbles. 

You absentmindedly blow a bubble. He gives you a sideways glance. 

“At least tell me it was all consensual.”

The bubble pops. 

“Merlin, Reg! I didn’t shag Sirius!” 

He shakes his head, not believing you. 

“He offered me gum when I didn’t let him light a second cig,” you defend, sitting up straighter. 

Regulus hums as he turns the page of his book. 

–––

“Well, Pads, what did you think of her?” James asks after all four boys had abandoned the common room later in the evening. 

“I think you need to stop sending girls my way because they like dogs.”

James and Remus exchange a glance. 

“That wasn’t an answer,” Remus says. 

Sirius rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, she has my attention.”

Peter, Remus and James cheer at their success.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Belonging with them

Day 3: Belonging.

Summary: He knew where he belonged now.

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Word Count: 1150

Warnings: azzie continues being jelly of kaden lolll

A/n: i love hazel sm yall dont get it 🥺 this fic is based on a short i saw on yt and the dad is like the biggest hunk and gave such cassian vibes and he genuinely cried 🥺 i was gonna write this fic for cassian but then i decided to give this to azzie cus he deserves to cry hehe

(if you dont know hazel and kaden, theyre from my mini series overprotective bat. it was a 2 part series which can be found on my azriel masterlist. all the fic in this week will be revolving around these two cuties hehe)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

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"I don’t really know where I fit in anymore."

"I’ve been alive almost five and a half centuries and I’m not sure of that, either."

The day he had said those words to Feyre seemed like a lifetime away, as if experienced in a dream centuries ago when he was younger and could not differentiate between reality and what his brain had conjured up. But he knew, it had merely been five years.

The five years he had cherished the most in his life.

He loved his family. He adored the way Rhys and Cassian bickered during their annual snowball fight, the way Amren found a way to slide in a snide remark at every dinner, the way Mor would always be ready to go partying. Above all, he adored how all his family including the Archeron sisters would be ready to help him and be there for him any day. Even in the middle of the night when he did not want to wake up his wife but knew he needed someone to help him with his crying daughter.

But… they did not complete him. He loved them to bits and would readily give his life for them… before he met his now wife and decided she was the one he would spend his life with, mating bond be damned. He had lost all hopes of finding his mate back then after waiting for five centuries.

Imagine his shock when on their wedding day, he felt another thread of gold tying him to his wife.

Now as he sat watching his daughter pet a purring Nuts lounging on the low table in front of him while explaining to him how tea was made, he smiled.

He had found his place of belonging. And it was with his wife and daughter.

Of course, there had to be that boy trying to take his daughter away from him. What was his name? Kade? Kaden? Azriel thought bitterly.

He knew he was being dramatic. His daughter was barely four years at this point, no four year old was going to steal her away.

Hazel turned to Azriel, making him focus all his attention on her. He offered her a smile when she handed him a small pink cup.

"What is this?" He asked, bringing the empty toy to his lips.

She shot him an incredulous look. "It’s the tea you ordered daddy."

"Oh, yeah sorry, I was thinking about something."

She shook her head. "Stop thinking and focus, daddy. Kaden always pays attention."

Azriel stilled.

I am being compared to a four year old boy now? What has life come to.

He sighed, mumbling out an apology even though all he wanted to do was tell her to stay away from that boy.

He did not want to be forced to go apologise again.

She began fumbling with the littered toys on the desk once more, completely ignoring Azriel in favour of mumbling instructions to Nuts, as if teaching him how to cook.

As he watched her move over to the huge armchair and place a cup on it, conversing with what Azriel could only hope was not spirits of the deceased, his curiosity peaked.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but he needed to make sure that she was not getting overly friendly with Kaden.

"Hazel, this tea is amazing." He waited till she giggled before continuing. "By the way, how’s school?"

It was daycare to help her get accustomed to going to school next year, but Hazel insisted she was a big girl and attended big girl school.

"It’s fine. Miss Black gave me a gold star yesterday because I helped her." Hazel was focused on the air she was stirring in her red pot as she talked, lips pursed slightly in concentration.

"Hmm. Who’s your best friend?"

Please don’t say Kaden. Not Kaden. Please.

She turned around to glare at him, and he wondered if by any chance he had said the words aloud. But he knew he hadn’t. Azriel wouldn’t let himself speak without permission from himself.

Her brows bunched up, lips pouting and eyes narrowed, she looked as offended as an old grandma being told her grandchild was full and did not want more food.

"Daddy, it’s you. You’re my best friend." She rolled her eyes.

Azriel watched. He simply watched her return back to stirring her pot.

Cassian had been the one to teach her the eye rolling. Azriel had been amused. Seeing a child barely reaching his knees roll her eyes at him like she had lived five lives was nothing short of funny.

But right now, it felt anything but.

It’s you daddy.

His eyes were prickling, that was his first conscious thought after long moments of silence in his head. His vision was getting blurry, throat clogging. Tell tale signs of a sob session oncoming. But he could not bring himself to care as he stared at this little faeling, who did not even realise what she had done.

You’re my best friend.

Azriel simply sat back against the couch, the cushions pressing against his bare back, and let the tears have their way on his skin.

I’m her best friend.

Even despite the emotions Hazel had brought forth, somewhere in the back of his mind Azriel was rejoicing that her best friend was not Kaden.

Guess I’m never beating the territorial illyrian accusations.

The shadows settled down on his shoulders, swirling softly against his skin as they too watched Hazel play and pet Nuts occasionally. They did not inform him of his wife’s arrival in the living room. They did not have to. He simply felt when her presence was near. The all consuming feeling of love growing stronger in his chest being another indicator.

"Hazel, it’s bath time baby. Let’s go."

Hazel huffed as if what Y/n had said was the most outrageous thing ever. "Mommy, I can’t leave yet. There are customers."

Azriel practically felt his wife’s eyes narrow. "Daddy can attend to your customers."

Hazel turned to look at Azriel pleadingly, her eyes wide and placating before they filled with shock. "Daddy why are you crying!"

Y/n drew closer. "Azzie?"

Azriel blinked, smiling up at his wife before picking up his daughter. "It’s nothing. Just some dust."

Hazel turned to scowl at Nuts. "I told you to clean up properly. Now see, because of you my daddy is crying."

Azriel huffed out a laugh, pressing his lips to her round cheek.

"Let’s go shower baby. I’ll even get your toys, yeah?"

Azriel’s gaze swung to Y/n at the end of his sentence. She gave him a knowing smile.

"Can Nuts come too? Please daddy, mommy!"

"Fine, but no splashing." Y/n pointed a finger at the father-daughter duo, eyebrows raised.

Hazel had begun to whine, but even she knew not to argue when mommy was serious.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - III"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Drugging, Attempted Kidnapping, Stalking

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

No, no. Not happening. Never.

You need money. But you won’t get it through unscrupulous means. You still have your morals, and you’ll abide by them. That’s why you saved Kylar. That’s why you’d save him again, should it happen in the future.

You push the thought out of your mind and exit the temple. As you pass by Danube Street, a thought hits you. 

The spa. Why haven’t you been working at the spa? 

It’s not really an early-game option due to the stat checks required, but those shouldn’t be a problem for you. With your hand skill at C by default and your beauty over the max, working as a masseur is as simple as walking up and asking for work. 

You head over and ask for work, and the lady at the front desk takes one look at your hands and gasps. Her bored demeanor quickly melts away into an excited one as she quickly shows you the ropes. You get the basics down pretty quickly and soon take your first client, a trim woman who looks to be in her early 30s.

“Hello, I’ve not done this before. Do I just lie down?” That makes two of us, you think to yourself. 

“That’s right! Just lie down, and I’ll take care of the rest,” you say, smiling. The trim woman seems reassured and quickly lies down on the table. You get to work on her shoulders and neck first, cautiously looking for knots and tension as you knead her muscles. The woman relaxes under your touch and begins to make small talk. She tells you about her family, how her kids are both bright young boys, and her husband brings her flowers every month. She seems really happy. -Trauma -Stress

She leaves you a tip. You make £75. 

Your next client is less friendly, but you manage to massage her without incident. She leaves you a tip. You make £80 and decide to take a break, feeling a little worn out from standing on your feet for nearly two hours straight. After fifteen minutes, you get up and head back into the spa, where you take on another two clients. They both leave tips, and you make £120. The spa closes after that, and you head outside. 

Someone throws a water balloon at you from a nearby car, soaking your shirt and leaving it near-invisible. You hear cheers as they speed away, leaving you soaked out in the open. +Stress

You look around, but luckily, no one is around to see your predicament. You cover yourself with your arms as best as you can and head home. You take the alleys to avoid passersby seeing you, walking quickly in hopes of getting home sooner. You don’t watch where you’re going and end up walking right into someone. 

“Watch where you’re going, you—!” You look up, about to apologize, when you see icy blue eyes staring back at you. It’s Whitney, his face, only inches from yours, changes from anger to a smug smile.”Well, what do we have here? A slut all out on her own?” Whitney’s friends giggle. 

“Why is she walking around so exposed?” One delinquent asks. “Is she a pervert?” They giggle, crowding around you.

“I wanna get a picture!” Soon, all the delinquents are pulling out their phones. Suddenly torn between the desire to cover your face and your chest, you end up hiding behind the thing closest to you, which ends up being Whitney. He seems taken aback but soon wraps an arm around you protectively. +Love

“Fuck off,” he says, arm still around your waist. “Get your own slut.” The others seem disappointed but comply regardless. When everyone’s phone has been put away, Whitney releases you and shrugs off his jacket. 

“Can’t fuck a sick person,” he says, throwing his jacket over you. “Make sure to give it back. Now fuck off.” He shoves you out of the alleyway, leaving you stunned. Did that really just happen? 

You check your phone.

Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you.       Fascination: 50% Love: 5% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40%       Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100% 

You walk home with his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. It smells like smoke.

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £729 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

After waking up and finishing your morning routine, you go to Robin’s room and play video games with him for an hour. Some of the games remind you of those you used to play back home. +Love -Trauma +Stress 

“It’s almost time for school,” he says. “Do you want to come with me?” You smile and nod. Robin stands up from the bed and puts his controller away. He holds the door open for you as you leave, and you notice a faint blush on his cheeks as you pass. You swear you saw him glance down. +Lust

You’re suddenly reminded that you’re in a yandere game and that Robin is a target character. ++Stress

You grimace as you round a corner and resist the urge to cover your butt as Robin walks behind you. Your skirt is so short he can probably see your underwear as you walk. +++Stress

You see Bailey holding a mousy girl by the arms, a bundle of rope in his other hand. 

“You owe me £200 this week,” he says. The girl is holding back tears but still manages to keep a strong look about her. Robin looks away. The other orphans do the same. They all look…resigned. You step forward. 

“I’ll pay,” you say. “Let her go.” Bailey raises an eyebrow but releases the girl. You hand over the £200 without fuss. It’s only after parting with the money that you remember you could have just pepper-sprayed him and gained some catharsis. You don’t really need to be stingy with it, after all. Bailey counts the money and leaves, leaving the mousy girl to dust herself off.

“Thank you,” the mousy girl says. “I was really scared.” 

“Will you be okay?” You ask her. She nods. She seems genuinely okay. 

“Yes, thanks to you. I promise I’ll pay you back for this,” she says, running off. 

“You don’t have to!” You call out after her, but she’s already gone. 

You did a good thing today. -Trauma -Stress

“That was really impressive,” Robin says. “It’s not often people stand up to Bailey.” You shrug, and Robin cracks a smile. +Love

You and Robin chat on the way to school, mostly about the games you played earlier. There’s a certain glint in his eyes when he looks at you that wasn’t there before. You have to suppress a shiver every time you accidentally meet his gaze. +Stress

“I just don’t understand why they’d make a tutorial so difficult,” Robin says, shaking his head. “Maybe-” He’s cut off by something, eyes widening. You follow his gaze and see two hooded figures approaching rapidly from the alleyway you just passed. You reach for your pepper spray as the figures get closer, unhooking it from its keychain and holding it at the ready. 

“It’s her,” one says. You waste no time and spray them both, then grab Robin’s arm and sprint to safety with him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Crime (Assault) +Stress +Fatigue

You don’t stop running until you reach the school gates and are safely behind them. You and Robin pant heavily as you struggle to come down from the adrenaline. 

“Where did you get that?!” Robin whisper-yells. 

“A kid in my English class makes them,” you say at a normal volume. Robin’s look of concern only grows, and he spends a few minutes lecturing you on the dangers and illegalities of pepper spray. You mostly tune him out. 

The bell rings, finally putting an end to Robin’s monologue, and you head to class. You focus on the lesson, and Sirris calls you up to the front of the class. A student uses a ruler to flash your panties to everyone. To make matters worse, Sirris wanted you to undress for the demonstration. You comply, feeling humiliated as the class leers at your body. +++Stress

The bell rings, and you rush out of the classroom. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you walk. Your ears are ringing, your heartbeat is too loud, the world is spinning, and—

It’s all too much for you. You pass out. 

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You wake up with something soft yet firm under your head and Sydney right above you. 

“You’re awake!” He says. “I was worried. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I brought you back to the library.” “Not the nurse?” You say, getting up. You realize that you’ve been lying on Sydney’s lap. Sydney looks sheepish. 

“I didn’t think of that,” he says, not meeting your gaze. He looks genuine, but you get the feeling he’s not being honest. +Awareness 

Sydney insists you stay with him for another ten minutes so he can monitor your condition. When you ask about going to the nurse again he makes an excuse of not knowing if you’re good to walk. You decide not to push it any further and spend the next ten minutes chatting with Sydney. When the ten minutes are up, he looks hesitant to let you go but relents regardless. +Love +Lust -Sydney’s purity

By the time you leave, it’s already lunch. You missed two classes. ++Deliquency

Feeling stressed from everything, you decide to sit alone in hopes of relaxing. You should have known better, however, as a group of students soon come by to make your day harder. The second they start jeering at you, you unhook your pepper spray and blast them all in the face. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status

The students are screaming and hurling insults, but the ringing in your ears makes it impossible to hear them. You finish your lunch in silence. 

You spend the rest of school zoning out, hoping your stress will subside. It works, kind of. 

You have detention, but you don’t feel like going. Considering all the shit you pulled today, Leighton is probably going to take off your clothes and smack you or something. You don’t have good enough grades to know where the tunnel from school is, so you walk out the front. Leighton tries to stop you, but you pepper spray him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status 

A group of students say they’re going to the lake. You could use a change of scenery. You join them. +Status

Hanging out at the lake is fun enough. No one tries to grope you after what happened at lunch, so you end up having a somewhat enjoyable time. 

Then they start bullying another student, who thankfully isn’t here to listen to them shit-talking them, and what little fun you were having quickly melts away. You stand up and walk away, deciding to go for a swim instead. You think about retrieving the lichen for your science project but push the thought out of your mind. 

You swim for about an hour, and when you exit the water, the sun is already beginning to set. Your fellow classmates are still hanging out, but you don’t really feel like joining them, so you put on your clothes and go for a walk, planning to head back after you’re done.

You hear a bullet firing from afar. Something is hunting you.

Fuck. You whip around, trying to locate the source of the bullet. You heard it shoot from behind you, but you don’t see anyone. Going back the way you came might mean running straight into their arms. You glance around one last time, but a second gunshot has you running on your feet in no time.

You dash through the woods, not bothering to look behind you as the gun fires off in the near distance. You don’t think they’re shooting at you, and running zig-zag like you were taught as a kid just means slowing down. So, you run straight ahead with no clear plan in mind. You unhook your pepper spray again (you should probably thank Kylar), just in case, but you don’t know how much good it will do in a gunfight. Still, something is better than nothing, so you hold onto it, keeping it close to your chest as you run, run, run.

Your foot hits something strange and loses balance. You don’t even have time to process it until you’re lifted upside-down by your heel, face to inverted face with a plant person. 

“I caught one!” The plant girl exclaims. “This one’s wearing lacey panties!” You spray her, and she falls, her vines releasing you instantly. It’s only when you see sap pouring out from a hole on the side of her head that you hear the gunshot and realize it wasn’t you that took her down.

“Got you,” Eden says, a hand on your shoulder. You try to turn around, but the second you move, you’re on the ground, nose pressed into the soil, and arms pinned behind you in a painful grip. You feel your pepper spray being torn from your hand and thrown next to a bush. 

Shit. Shit!

He’s got you in a submission hold. There’s nothing you can do but go along with it and wait for an opportunity. It takes everything in you not to thrash and scream against his hold, but you know that would only make things worse. Eden runs his hand down your back, stopping when he gets to the hem of your skirt. He flips it up, taking a moment to admire it before giving it a light slap. You jump when he hits you, though it’s more about the surprise than the pain.

“You’re hurting me!” You cry, trying your best to sound helpless. “Please let go!” You weakly struggle against his grip for good measure. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, voice gruff. “Can’t do that. You’ll run away.” 

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Please, please, let me go!” You wiggle around, pretending this is as much strength as you can muster up. Eden leans down and studies your expression for a moment. You can feel the outline of his cock on your back as he leans down to look at you. The scrutiny in such a position is near-unbearable, but he releases you without a word. 

You force yourself to be still for a moment, not to do anything that would alert him. Then, slowly, you turn around and, mustering up every bit of courage you have, lean up and kiss him. He seems taken aback but soon reciprocates the gesture. You press into him, stroking and massaging his skin as you cautiously lean him back into a more desirable position. 

Though it costs you your dignity, you’re eventually able to get on top of him, grinding against him through his pants as you lower him to the ground. When you’ve got him completely below you, and you’re straddling his hips, you break the kiss and pull yourself up. 

“I think it's time we get rid of these,” you say, grabbing your panties and lifting your hips, then swaying them suggestively. You shift your weight to one knee and lift your other leg up, then, in a sudden, adrenaline-charged burst of speed, you throw yourself off of him and stagger to your feet. You kick him in the crotch and run towards the bush where your pepper spray landed. 

Eden catches your foot, and you nosedive towards the ground. You fall, but pepper spray is just within reach. You grab it and go limp. Eden drags your body closer to his, and you use it as an opportunity to spray him. He grabs his eyes and recoils, and you quickly gather yourself and run back the way you came. 

Your clothes snag on bushes and branches as you run, but you pay it no mind as you force yourself to run. You can’t hear anything but the wind in your ears, so you have no idea if Eden is chasing you or not. 

Silly you, it shouldn’t have been Eden you were worrying about. 

You feel yourself hit the ground before you even register being knocked down. There’s a growling above you and two hands on either side of your body. You twist around, barely even registering the wolf ears and sharp teeth of the man on top of you. You spray him, and he staggers back. You rush to your feet and keep running until you’re safely out of the forest. Your clothes are practically in scraps by the time you’re out, and at this point, you think it’ll be cheaper to just buy new clothes instead of fixing them. 

Then, it hits you. The pain and exhaustion. 

You drop to your knees, suddenly aware of every scratch, scrape, and bruise you acquired while running through the forest, suddenly aware of the strain on your muscles from the fatigue. You stay sitting for a few minutes, waiting for your muscles to stop hurting or for you to stop caring. When you notice the sun is starting to set, you pull yourself up and drag yourself back home, where you run a bath and then go straight to bed. 

—————————

It is Friday, the 9th of September, 2022. -It has been 5 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You are upset Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You get up and check your socials on your phone.

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships:  Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend.              Fascination: 100% Love: 5% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40%         Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Jealousy: 5% Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you.       Fascination: 50% Love: 10% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40% Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100%  Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you.       Fascination: 100% Love: 9% Devotion: 55% Jealousy: 55%        Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted.       Fascination: 70% Love: 8% Devotion: 25% Purity: 20%        Jealousy: 0% Lust: 70%  Avery The Businessman Avery thinks you’re cute.     Fascination: 55% Love: 1% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0%     Dominance: 0% Lust: 30% Rage: 0% Eden The Hunter Eden wants you back.     Fascination: 80% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0%     Dominance: 0% Lust: 100% Black Wolf The Alpha Black Wolf wants to see you again. Reputation:  The police consider you a person of interest, and have enough evidence for an arrest. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 60% Sex: Unknown. Prostitution: Unknown. Rape: Obscure. Beastiality: Unknown. Exhibitionism: Obscure. Pregnancy: Unknown. Combat: Low-key. Kindness: Obscure. Business: Unknown. Socialite: Unknown. Overall: Notorious. The townsfolk call you Darling. Those in the criminal underworld call you Darling.

Your eyes hover over your police reputation. You sigh. You’ll have to visit Landry after school. You throw your covers off of you and climb out of bed, groggily going to your wardrobe. 

Right. Your clothes got torn. You pick up an undamaged skirt and shirt, tossing the tattered garments into the trash. You put on your clothes and pick up your bag, not bothering to stop by Robin’s room this morning. You take a bus to the shopping center, where you do what you should have done on day one: buy clothes that actually cover you. You browse for a few minutes, looking for something as pervert-proof as possible. You settle on a school blouse, shorts, a sports bra, suspenders, and a pair of work boots. 

The shorts provide you protection against people lifting your skirt, the suspenders (which you’ll have to sew on) keep you from being pantsed, the sports bra can’t be unclipped and provides support in case you need to run, and the work boots will help you keep your footing when you need to go to the moor or the woods. 

You buy what you’re wearing as well as a few backups of the shorts and shirt, totaling £215. You pay and leave, arriving at school just in time for your science class. Today’s Friday, so you have a chance to improve your grades if you do well on the tests. 

The lesson pace is a little different from usual. It’s just a review of everything you’ve learned this week. Nothing new is being covered, so you don’t bother to take notes. Not that you’ve had any time to study your notes since coming here.

The test is easy enough, despite your terrible study habits, and you manage to improve your grade to a D. -Stress

The rest of the day continues similarly, and soon you have D’s all across the board. --Stress

You go to the pub after school, looking around for a thin man or woman with black hair and a grey sweater. You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn your head. It’s a tall man you’ve never seen before. He’s covered in tattoos.

“You’ve been busy,” he says, booze on his breath. “Don’t think I don’t recognize you. You’re the talk of the town. Bit surprising not seeing you being fucked raw, though.” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “I reckon it’s time I got my slice of the pie. You like it rough, right? That’s what I’ve heard. Come ‘ere, sweetheart.” 

“Am I interrupting?” You hear a man’s voice, and the tall man’s hand on your shoulder loses it’s grip. You look over to see the face of your savior and realize it’s the very person you were looking for. Your face shifts to one of relief. -Stress

“Yeah,” he says. “Piss off.”

“I recognize you.” 

“You should, I come here more often than I-” 

“March 3rd, 2009. Nightingale Street.” The tall man pales. “So you know what I’m talking about. I wasn’t there myself, but I’ve heard the stories. You were the talk of the town.” 

The tall man stutters. “Y-you’re not with the fuzz. You won’t turn me in.”

“You don’t know that. And either way, we both know you’re not hiding from the police. So how about you let her go, and I won’t tip off the Elk about your latest haunt.” The tall man looks at you, then Landry, then you again. Landry smiles. He throws his hands off of you.

“Fine. Shit, fine. You her lover? You picked a damn slutty one.” Landry waits until the man is out of earshot before turning to you. 

“Come with me,” he says. “I want to talk to you in private.”

“Reputation isn’t always a good thing,” Landry says as you sit down. “Word’s spread about you. You’re notorious. That’s why that drunkard went for you. You remember what he said, right?” 

“I haven’t even done anything,” you say. 

“No, but you’re pretty while doing it,” Landry retorts. “Not hitting on you,” he says. 

“Thanks?” 

“It’s not a good thing. You attract attention wherever you go. Where a normal person might have to fuck a hundred people to start getting known as a slut around town, you’d only have to fuck one.” 

“Oh,” you say, slinking in your seat. “So, what can I do?” 

“I think I can help you,” he pauses. “Well, not me. But I think I know someone. This orphan at the home on Domus Street. A computer whiz. Mickey, or McKay, something like that. Best hope is to find this orphan. If you can get them to come work with me, they’ll be able to hook you up. There’ll be some money in it for you, too. Just don’t step on Bailey’s toes.” You nod. 

“Thank you,” you say. Landry smiles.

“There’s another thing, too,” he says. “I’ll be frank. I know you need money. Don’t ask me how I know, word gets around. I think I can help you. If you come across any jewelry or other items you don’t know what to do with, I can take them off your hands. I’ll pay well.” He looks over your shoulder. “As well as can be expected, anyway.” 

“Can you help me get the police off my trail?”

“I can help you,” he says, reclining. “But I need you to do something for me. And no, it’s not about money. I was expecting a package, but it never arrived. Good thing I know where to find it, it had a GPS tracker. It got lost somewhere deep in the moor. Get it for me, and I’ll prevent any of your past misdemeanors being pinned on you. It’s a small black box.” You nod and stand. 

“Oh, and do be careful,” Landry says. “I don’t believe the tales of monsters, but there’s a sensible reason behind some superstitions.” 

You’re already wearing work boots, but you want to wear something that you can afford to tear, too. Preferably something resistant that can protect you. But you don’t have the money for that, so you head back to the orphanage and wear the only other outfit you have, a sundress. You put your pepper spray keychain on your bookbag and take it with you, hoping you won’t run out during this trip. 

After double checking everything is in order, you leave the orphanage and begin to make the long trek to the moor. 

Several people attempt to pick you up along the way. By which you mean literally every person who passes by you has slowed down to talk and ask where you’re headed. Not willing to risk anything, you turn them all down, running when they get too persistent. By the time you finally make it to the farmlands, you’re exhausted. So you sit down near the entrance to rest, knowing you’ll need your energy for the moor. 

“You alright there?” Someone asks. You look up to see a suntanned boy under a straw hat, looking concerned. He looks around your age, with red hair and a boyish appearance. He must be Alex, you realize.

“It was just a really long walk to get here,” you admit sheepishly. 

“You walked all the way from town?” You nod. “Well, Jesus! No wonder you’re so tired. Come in and get some water, my place isn’t far.” 

“Do you own the farm?” 

“Yeah, I do! It’s a work in progress, but it’s home.” You smile. 

Alex is right, and it doesn’t take long to reach the cottage, where he offers you a glass of water. You thank him and gulp it down. +++Drugged

…Huh?

You stare at your phone. The screen seems to shift.

Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged A lewd warmth fills you Your perception is altered

You look back up to Alex, who’s staring at you with a grin. You stand up but nearly fall. Alex stands with you, his hands on your shoulders. 

“Easy, there,” he says as if you’re a horse that needs to calm down. You shove him off of you and  run, reaching for your pepper spray, but in your altered state, you can’t figure out how to unhook it. 

>Try again (Skullduggery: Impossible) >Rip it off (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

You rip it off, but the fabric holds firm. Alex is close behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

You try again and the fabric doesn’t yield. Alex is right behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

This is taking too long. You spray without unhooking, managing to get Alex, but in your flailing, also manage to spray yourself. +++Pain ++Willpower

You run, you don’t even know where you’re going you just run.

You can’t open your eyes, but you know they wouldn’t be of much help in this state, anyway. You run until you hit what feels like tall grass, then slow. You’re in the moor now. 

You try to quiet your breathing as you listen for anything that may be chasing you or lying in wait. You hear nothing. You go a little further in, just enough to be hidden among the grass and wait. 

Eventually, the pain subsides, and you open your bleary eyes. You still feel unsteady, though, so you wait longer. It takes another forty minutes for you to regain full balance and control of your body. When you do, you trudge deeper into the moor, relying on the map on your phone to guide you to the box. After what feels like two hours of searching, you finally find the box across from some water. 

You grimace as you step in, your shoes and socks instantly soaking with dirty water. The water is about knee-high, so not enough to touch your sundress but just enough to make movement heavily uncomfortable. You hobble over the box, just about to reach it, when you feel something suck you in. 

You look behind you and recognize the thing as a lurker. You waste no time and spray it, freeing yourself and grabbing the box before leaving. 

Of course, nothing is ever that simple, and just as you leave the water, you see a terrible shadow overhead. You look up and notice a harpy in the sky. You are being hunted.

You start to run. Your pursuer approaches rapidly. ++Stress

You run faster, pushing yourself to your limits as you sprint across the moor. But luck is never on your side, and your foot sinks into something as you land. You look down, and it’s a fucking foxhole. Not big enough for you to run through or hide in. You pull yourself out, but it’s too late. 

“Found wife,” he says. You spray him and keep running. That should keep him out of commission for a while. 

Eventually, you feel safe enough to walk the rest of the way out of the moor. You sneak around the farmlands and begin to walk the rest of the way home. You’re too tired to make it very far, however, and soon pass out on the road. You feel yourself being lifted onto a stretcher before passing out again.

You’ve unlocked a fragment.

<Prev Next>

[hoshinasblade]

you are so close to gaslighting yourself into thinking that maybe, just maybe you have already told hoshina's mom in the past what your favorite tea is.

the problem with that thought is today was the first time you met the mother of your boyfriend.

you denied it in your head - for all you know, perhaps mrs. hoshina is just really a good at guessing. that, or you are going batshit crazy.

because at that very day, people you have met for the first time - people who may be friends with hoshina soshiro but are practically strangers to you - seem to be aware of small details about you.

captain ashiro complimented you on your blue dress after shaking your hands, saying it's obvious why it is your favorite color, emphasizing how it brings out the intensity of your eyes. even okonogi, who you know works directly with the third division's vice-captain, had a specific joyful aura on her friendly face as she offered to hang out with you in the future, mentioning how she is a fan of true crime documentaries too and suggesting in the same breath that you should try the pudding sold in the headquarter's cafeteria.

you could have let all of that go if only you did not blush like a teenager after hoshina's own older brother called you by your childhood nickname during family dinner.

"i'm sorry." hoshina's hand found yours, his thumb drawing patterns on your wrist. he knows you'd been on edge since morning, and although this is entirely your idea - meeting his friends and his family in one day - he wouldn't blame you if you're overwhelmed.

"they did their research on me or something," you tried to laugh the nerves away. it didn't work.

"ah." hoshina suddenly looked guity. " that. well -" he stopped for a moment, gathering his wits, choosing the right words to say. "i mean, it makes sense that everyone who actually knows me would know about you, really."

you wanted to joke as a response; you wanted to say that he's talkative and tends to yap for hours about stuff he loves so yes, people around him would naturally know things about you. but then you caught yourself because this is yet another confirmation of what hoshina soshiro had been telling you for months now - that you are someone he loves.

you did not know being known could feel this sweet.

"huh. do you reckon i can extort them for information about you next time?" this time it was your turn to grab hoshina's hand, and with your forefinger, you traced three little words on the warm skin of his palm.

[author's note: hello guys, i know i haven't been posting a lot anymore, but i am thankful to everyone who still remembers this blog - yes i can read your asks, yes i see that you've tagged me in a fic, yes i checked my notifications in this blog every now and then. it might take me long to respond most of the time so apologies in advance but please know that i appreciate all interactions from everyone.

also i dont need to remind you but i don't tolerate copy-pasting or reposting any of my works anywhere. i read a lot from here too, and other writers can attest to this as well - we know if a line or a paragraph from any of our works is copied and/or reworded. ]

[cailinsblog]

The Café by the Rink-Nico hischer

Nico hischer x reader

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning in Newark, New Jersey, when Nico Hischier first walked into *Maggie’s Corner Café*—a quaint, family-owned spot nestled just down the street from the Prudential Center. The place had an old-school charm, with mismatched furniture, the hum of indie music in the background, and the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. It was a cozy hideaway, a far cry from the bustling streets just outside.

Y/N had been working there for a few months, ever since she moved to the city. She loved the routine—the familiar faces who came in for their daily fix of caffeine and conversation. Then, one day, Nico Hischier walked in.

He wasn’t wearing his Devils jersey, just a hoodie and a baseball cap, trying to blend in with the regulars. He ordered a black coffee with a shot of espresso. Simple. Direct.

"Coming right up," Y/N said, smiling at him without thinking too much of it. He was just another customer.

But the next day, Nico was back. And the next. Every morning, at exactly the same time, he’d walk in, and she’d already know what to make for him.

“Good morning, Neeks, your usual?” she’d say, her voice light and familiar.

Nico would chuckle, his eyes sparkling as he leaned against the counter. “You know it.”

It became their unspoken routine. While Nico’s fame followed him everywhere else, in the café, he was just a guy who loved a good cup of coffee. He’d sip it slowly, chat about the weather or the team, and then slip out just as quietly as he came.

But one morning, everything changed.

Nico walked in with an entourage. His teammates. They filled up the small café, taking seats at the corner booth and laughing amongst themselves. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t let it show. She greeted them all with a friendly smile, jotting down their coffee orders.

Nico leaned over the counter, his voice lowered but full of intention. “We’re getting coffee for the whole team today.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile still warm. “Okay... what can I get for you guys?”

Each player had their own preferences—lattes, cappuccinos, iced coffees—and Y/N moved quickly to get their orders just right. Nico stayed close, watching her work, a hint of pride in his eyes.

When she handed them their drinks, Nico pushed a stack of bills toward her. “For the team. They’ll be back. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Y/N glanced down at the money, a little stunned. “You’re... seriously?”

“Yeah.” Nico smiled, his tone serious but kind. “The boys love your coffee. Trust me, it’s not just the caffeine.”

The team’s visits became more frequent after that. The café buzzed with excitement, not just from the regulars, but from the growing crowd of fans who started coming in, hoping to catch a glimpse of a player or hear an inside joke. As word spread, the New Jersey Devils started supporting the café, covering the costs to help it stay afloat. The little family-run café that once struggled to keep the doors open was now thriving, thanks to Nico’s quiet generosity.

One afternoon, as Nico sat by the window, Y/N came over to check on him, setting down a fresh cup of coffee.

“You’re always here,” she teased, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Don’t you have a game to get to?”

“I do,” Nico replied, his voice low, “but I had to stop by. Got something for you.”

He handed her a small envelope. She took it, surprised. Inside was a note with the Devils logo on it.

“We’re sponsoring the café now,” he explained, watching her face as she processed the words. “The team wants to make sure you stay here for a long time.”

Y/N’s heart skipped. “Wait, really? You—you did this?”

Nico shrugged, a modest smile crossing his face. “It’s nothing. You’ve built something great here. We just wanted to help.”

A wave of emotion hit her. It wasn’t just about the business—it was about Nico’s belief in her, in the place she’d built with her own two hands. She couldn’t find the words to thank him, so she just nodded, touched.

And then, one evening, after another high-energy game, Nico found her sitting at the café, the place quieter than usual as the evening rush had passed. The lights above the counter were warm, the late-night hum of the city outside making everything feel a little more intimate.

“Hey,” Nico said, his voice soft. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“It was amazing,” she replied, smiling at him. “I never thought I’d be sitting courtside, watching you score.”

Nico grinned, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than usual. “I think I made a goal just for you.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You didn’t have to. But thank you. It was... special.”

There was a quiet pause, and then, without another word, Nico stepped closer. His hand gently brushed against hers on the counter. The touch was electric, simple, but full of intent.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice a little unsure, like he was testing the waters. “I know this is a little crazy, but... I like spending time with you. More than just coffee and small talk.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her heart racing. “I like it too, Neeks.”

His name was a soft whisper on her lips. And that was all it took. The distance between them vanished in an instant, and Nico’s lips found hers in a kiss that was slow at first, almost tentative, as if they were both savoring the moment. It was gentle but filled with all the words neither of them had said yet—the unspoken truth of what had been building for months.

When they pulled apart, both of them were smiling, their eyes locking in a way that felt new but also familiar.

“Good morning, Neeks,” Y/N whispered, her voice soft and full of meaning. “Your usual?”

Nico chuckled, his thumb gently tracing her hand. “You know it,” he replied, his voice low, but there was no mistaking the smile on his lips.

And just like that, the coffee shop where it all began had become the place where everything changed. Where the ordinary became extraordinary. And where two people, brought together by a cup of coffee, found something more than either of them could have expected.

[wanderingmind867]

I still seriously object to how Rick Riordan treats the monsters in Percy Jackson. I already made a post like this for Medusa, but now I need to make one for Procrustes. Crusty is a menace (he's willing to chop people up so they fit into his waterbeds), but he genuinely seems like he enjoys selling to people. I don't like that all these monsters who seem capable of intelligent thought are all being killed. Surely there must be a better way. You know, it's interesting rereading Percy Jackson and taking the side of the monsters. If you do manage to bring yourself to sympathize with them, the story suddenly seems a lot more nuanced. I still think an anthology series about redeemed monsters would be nice, by the way. It's something I would be interested in, at least.

[falderaletcetera]

come to think of it another reason I'm biased towards nine might be because we never reach such beautiful casual queer vibes as the doctor + rose + jack situation again, at least not as far as I've watched. like I'm honestly not that much of a shipper but that kiss scene DOES things to me. and part of that is how loosely defined the relationship seems to be, at least maybe from jack's perspective. I can't rightly say it was wholly romantic in canon, but it sure was something - yes, rose flirted with jack way more than the doctor did when they first met, but the doctor even just being chill about jack kissing him feels significant - and I do love a quasi-romantic loosely-defined Something.

[widevibratobitch]

cunt.

[vargaslovinghours]

Y’all are being subjected to my Sims 2 tests, so there

The other set of Vargases came over for a visit and Scriabin picked up Shmee and started talking to Scriabin through him. Very normal, very usual

I downloaded some circle-glasses recolours and hghghh they look so good! Closer every day to his final details! Getting ever closer!

Edgar too! I made him a custom hair with a lighter undercut - I’m mostly happy with it, probably could’ve shifted it a shade closer to his skintone but the texturing was weird no matter what :P And his stripey shirt! I wish Body Shop didn’t have that hands-on-hips pose lol, it looks so much better in-game, but that’s all the better :)

I got some new clothes for Todd as well! As soon as I saw this ‘fit I was like “Oh that’s 100% Todd there he is.” Scriadad hug ♥ So cute

Foot-dancing together stopp it’s so cute!!

The way he looks at them stoppp <3 <3 They kept doing this right up til they left for home haha, Todd’s giggles are the cutest

Used SimPE to save him to the Body Shop, I now have infinite copies of The Boyyyy ♪

Moved him in with his “parents” as just shadow people basically, they’re not gonna matter in a bit as long as I remember how to get the Social Worker/Adoption process to work properly. Get her Todd!!

Wanna play? :D

Menacing :(

Look, Todd, your new dads are here! Initially I wasn’t sure who I wanted to adopt him, got lots of options; the first passes, the married couple with their own Todd, Johnny?? He definitely doesn’t have the facilities for a child lol But these are the ones that showed up on their own, so the married Vargases are the winners!

Scriabin cares more about him than his actual parents ;; A stranger off the street shows him more care! Not that it’s a high watermark

Look at him being a good dad!

Weh, he just wants friends ;; Poor baby

Best timeline, thank you

While we wait for CPS, let’s get some other interactions in! Nny is mean so he tended to prank the other two with a nose flick - mostly Edgar lol ♪ Now kiss

“Oh please don’t break all my bones~ :3” I love Todd looking up at them haha <3

Pffft, I think he was talking about the other Scriabin and just how attractive he is. Classic Scriabin. Alternatively, also funny to imagine him bragging himself up about how he’s just so handsome that Edgar can’t help but love him hahaha ♪

Allow me to tickle you with my KNIFE! >:D

Get a load of this guy lol

He ended up passing out at one point - I forgot which motives make CPS show up >.> - and completely 0%’d his comfort, but for some reason stargazing increased it?? It’s the same ground wh

Is two not enough to satisfy your butterfly bloodlust child?? He ended up with three, I had him release them before he was picked up by the Social Worker - success!

He rolled a new Want as soon as Todd was taken away - “Wants to see Ghost of Todd” Woah, dark! :0

And here he is on the married Vargases’ lot!! Success!! I did it right!! Heck yeah! :D Unfortunately they were uh, indisposed at the time. Good job guys pft

Goes right for Shmee, he really is Todd <3

[hotmess-exe]

aight enough bragging about how my first stand up set was about breast cancer, time to write new stuff and get back on stage

[ladysharmaa]

Why don't you love me?

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Y/n and Anthony are in an arranged marriage. When she stops trying to make the relationship work and be the perfect wife, Anthony realizes what he's lost. Will he be able to get her back?

(gif is not mine)

It wasn't the marriage she wanted. And it wasn't what he wanted, because, in fact, he didn't even want to be married. And he didn't mind showing it. But for Y/n, she tried to make the best of their unfortunate situation.

It all started at the beginning of the season when Violet Bridgerton decided that her firstborn had been single for too long. So, she spoke to Y/n's parents, who were good friends of hers, and they both decided that a marriage between the two would be beneficial to both families. Anthony was going to have the support of someone who would take Violet's place as Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton. For Y/n's life, in this society, having a husband was essential and this marriage would allow social advancement.

Thus, Anthony and Y/n agreed with this decision. The preparation for the wedding was carried out quickly and this event was the biggest news for days. Lady Whistledown didn't help matters either by immediately releasing an advert showing her doubts about Anthony having a wife.

This only worsened Y/n's mood, who already feared being married to Viscount Bridgerton, as she was now doubting all the lovers Anthony could take to their bed. Would he not respect their marriage? Did she just want an heir and take care of the children? With these doubts, she said the "I do" in front of hundreds of people watching the ceremony, and allowed just one tear to fall.

From the beginning, Anthony made a point of making it clear that their marriage was purely a compromise, and that he would never truly love her. He was going to fulfill his role and try to have an heir and outside the house, they would act like a happy couple, but it wouldn't go beyond that. In silence, Y/n just offered him a nod, showing that she understood.

However, since then, nothing has happened between them. Anthony allowed her to have her own room, something Y/n was more than grateful for. Having to look at the face of her husband who would never love her every time she fell asleep would be too painful.

She was expecting that on some nights he would enter her room to try to get her with child. But none of that happened, which only confused Y/n more. Was he so disgusted by the idea of being married to her that he didn't even want to have pleasure with her?

So she tried to distract herself with tasks that could take some of the work off Anthony's shoulders and try to be the perfect wife. But Anthony still refused to spend more than five minutes alone with her. At breakfast, he was already at the office when Y/n woke up to go eat, at night he preferred to spend time with his brothers instead of returning home. He was making everyone's life difficult and Y/n was starting to get more and more sad. Would this be her routine until the end of her life? Trying to please a husband who didn't want her?

It was on a summer afternoon that Y/n, upon returning from a social gathering with Anthony's mother and sister, realized how hot the mansion was. She quickly remembered how Viscount's office, the few times she had been there, was directly in the sun which made it even hotter. So she decided to be brave and try to have at least a friendly relationship with her husband, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

With growing nerves, Y/n went to Anthony's office door and knocked on the wood. After hearing Anthony's voice, she opened the door, finding him plus Benedict, who had become good friends with Y/n.

"Oh, I apologize if I am interrupting." she said shyly, keeping to the doorway.

"You are." Anthony immediately agreed in a deep voice, not paying attention to her and turning his attention back to the papers.

At the same time, his brother hurried to assure Y/n, "You're not interrupting anything. You even saved me from Anthony's boring lecture here."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Right. I just came to bring you a cup of water. It's so warm outside. I wasn't aware you were here, Mr. Bridgerton, but I can go and also bring you some water."

"Thank you, Y/n, I would—"

However, he couldn't finish his sentence as Anthony hit the table, causing his wife to jump in fright and immediately take a step back. Her reaction made Anthony's expression show some regret, but he quickly hid it. A silence fell between the three.

"I'm fed up, Y/n! Can't you understand that men are trying to work?! Go back to your life of looking at flowers and walking around without having to do anything and leave!"

Y/n's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to understand what had just happened. Finally, she pursed her lips and her eyes turned cold. "I apologize, Lord Bridgerton. It won't happen again. If you'll excuse me."

When she left the room, Benedict looked at his brother in shock. "That was so harsh. The poor girl was trying to be nice and cared enough to bring you a glass of water. If you don't want it, I'll have it. I'm talking about the glass and her."

"Don't you dare." he muttered with a clenched jaw, glaring furiously at Benedict. Where did this anger come from just thinking about Y/n with another man? "Now, let's go back to discuss how you spent money on a bet."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Y/n's behavior with Anthony changed completely. Everyone noticed that the Viscountess finally reached her limit, and stopped being the friendly wife, now looking coldly at her husband whenever they passed each other in the mansion. However, as a couple and heads of the family, they still had obligations to fulfill together.

Public appearances were more tense, but they still managed to keep a smile on their faces and talk to all the ladies who asked about their marriage and when they would have children, giving short answers so that nothing would end up in Lady Whistledown's hands. They also attended a horse race, even betting on different horses that would win. Y/n ended up winning the bet, and her smug look irritated Anthony for the rest of the day, something his brothers were quick to tease him about.

But despite not liking Anthony after his cruel words, which Y/n still thought about constantly, she adored his sisters and mother. They had accepted Y/n into the family, including her in their gatherings and even being a should to cry on. Daphne had already said more than once that she would have no problem going to Anthony and try to talk some sense into him, but Y/n refused. Anthony already didn't like her, if he thought she was turning his family against him he would hate her even more. And she didn't need to make her life worse than it already was.

One day, when she went with Anthony to the Bridgerton mansion to drop off some documents, Hyacinth, Anthony's younger sister, took her aside. Y/n followed the girl to the bathroom where she, with teary eyes and trembling lips, asked her if she was going to die when she started bleeding from her lady parts. Hyacinth also revealed to her that she wanted to go to her mother, but she had gone shopping with Francesca and was alone at home with just Collin. Y/n, very calmly and gently, assured her that it was a normal thing and that all women went through this, explaining what she should do.

It was no secret that Y/n was happy that Hyacinth trusted her with this scary situation and that she was able to help the girl. Despite all the problems in her marriage, she now had a role in helping Anthony's sisters and she never wanted to fail in that.

To Y/n's surprise, Hyacinth ended up giving her a big hug, remaining attached to her for the rest of the afternoon. Her period was making her so affectionate, more than she already was, that Y/n couldn't stop a big smile from appearing on her face at receiving so much affection.

Anthony, when he finally finished talking to Collin about the documents he brought, I was surprised to see his sister on the couch hugging Y/n. "Hyacinth, what are you doing?"

"Hugging my sister-in-law, brother. But you don't know what that is, do you?" she snapped. The girl's change in mood made Y/n have to put a hand over her mouth to keep Anthony from hearing the laughter that escaped her.

The shock on Anthony's face was comical. His little sister was basically choosing Y/n over him. And in truth, he didn't judge her because his wife was, without a doubt, better than him. And she deserved so much better.

On the other hand, his heart warmed when he saw the bond that the two had created. It was clear that Y/n felt great affection for his family. Could it be that if he had accepted this marriage from the beginning, they would now be a happy family? That they would spend afternoons together, cuddling on the couch and talking to his siblings? All these thoughts were racing through his mind, and the guilt was growing so much that he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Lord Bridgerton?" that sweet voice he had come to adore brought him out of his thoughts. He hated that since he snapped at her, she never called him by his first name again.

"What?" he asked, still disoriented.

Y/n was looking at him like he was stupid. "I asked if you were ready to leave. Hyacinth already went to her room to rest. I would like to do the same. So you must make haste."

Her bossy tone almost made his lips curl into a smile, but he controlled himself in time. "Of course, wife. We shall leave now. But I have to ask, what happened between you and my sister?"

"All you need to know is that she's fine and she's a woman now. But don't worry, as your wife, I'll handle these situations. Unless you prefer me to go look at the flowers, take a walk, and do nothing?"

The hint, which was delivered with great anger, caused the man to blush in shame and lower his head. Y/n didn't wait for his answer, taking her coat from a maid and walking to the carriage. He had screwed everything up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few more days had passed and the situation between Y/n and Anthony had only gotten stranger. The day after the situation with Hyacinth, Y/n was coming down from her room to go get breakfast, as she always did, when she came across Anthony at the table, appearing to be waiting for her to eat.

Y/n stopped abruptly, looking at him in shock. "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you so we can have breakfast. I have to go see my brothers again today to talk business, so I was thinking you could come with me and spend some time with my sisters. My mother She's also been saying how she hasn't seen you in a while. That is, only if you want to go. If not, I'll just go… Or I'll stay here to keep you company, whatever you want." he choked up, finishing his speech by drinking some milk, perhaps to calm his nerves.

Y/n remained in place without moving. She looked at Anthony strangely, as if doubting that those words had even come out of his mouth.

"It was silly of me to ask—"

"No," she interrupted him. "It's fine. I would actually like to go and spend time with your sisters. They are lovely. I shall go get ready then."

"Aren't you going to have breakfast with me first?"

"Lord Bridgerton, I've been eating breakfast alone since we got married and I came to live with you. I think you can handle doing the same for a day. Excuse me." she said with an exaggerated smile, turning her back on him and starting to go back to her room. However, she turned back to go get a cake that was on the table. "But I'm hungry so I will eat this in my chambers."

"Call me Anthony!" he exclaimed before she was completely gone. He had a desperate look, almost looking like he needed to hear his name come out of her lips.

"No."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Like every year, the Queen decided to throw a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season. The most eligible maiden on the marriage market. Y/n still remembers the first ball she attended — Daphne was the diamond of the season, but Y/n also managed to dance with a few suitors. Of course, in the end, she didn't end up marrying any of them. However, the nerves she felt at that ball were equal to or less than what she felt today: her first ball married to Anthony.

The Viscount and Viscountess had entered together, her hand resting on his arm, followed by Violet and the rest of his siblings. Tonight they would have to be on the lookout for suitors who might want to dance with Francesca, the diamond of the season.

Anthony quietly appreciated his wife. She looked breathtaking in her dress, her hair neatly tied back that showed off her majestic earrings, given by Anthony on their wedding day. He was proud to have a wife like Y/n, and he regreted that he hadn't shown it since day one.

While the Bridgertons started to go their own way, interacting with other people and dancing, Y/n preferred to stay in the corner watching the couples dancing. She longed to experience that with Anthony, but not in a forced way like some were. No, she wanted it to be felt, for them to dance to the music and really appreciate that moment.

But instead of her husband approaching her, it was another man, Earl Cavendish. Y/n remembered some moments when she had already seen him, as he was looking to get married this season. As she approached her, with a confident air, Y/n lowered her head to compliment him, "Good afternoon, Earl Cavendish."

"Lady Bridgerton, a pleasure to meet you. I must say, you look flawless. Would you give me the pleasure of dancing with me?" he extended his hand.

Y/n's eyes widened, not knowing what to do. People had already started looking at them, whispering among themselves. However, she didn't have to respond to the invitation as she felt an arm wrap around her waist and bring her closer to him.

"Excuse me, Earl Cavendish, but I want to have the pleasure of dancing with my beautiful wife first." Anthony said with his jaw clenched, looking him up and down menacingly. "I'm sure you will be able to find other ladies to dance with tonight. Just not my wife."

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to back down. Anthony grew more and more furious, her wrists clenching and bringing Y/n even closer to him, but careful not to hurt her.

"Very well. I shall leave. I hope to see you again someday, Lady Bridgerton."

"I will —" Anthony began by exclaiming in anger as the Earl walked towards another woman, not having liked the way he looked at what was his.

"You will do nothing." the Viscountess snapped coldly. "I can't understand you, you ignore me, you treat me badly, and then you act protective when another man shows interest in me? I never said anything about you having lovers, even though I didn't like that in our marriage."

"What? I've never disrespected our marriage like that, Y/n. In the past I've done a lot of things, but since we got married the only woman I'll look at and touch is you. I don't want anyone else."

"You have a funny way of showing it." she laughed sarcastically, feeling increasingly emotional. "I have to go get some air. You should go check on Francesca again."

Feeling the cold night air, Y/n's heart began to calm down. It was so difficult having to deal with Anthony's changes of attitude, she couldn't understand him. She just wanted to be loved, and since that wasn't possible, she preferred that they stay as far away from each other as possible since being friends didn't seem to be an option either.

"I'm sorry." the voice she had come to know so well whispered behind her. Y/n refused to turn around, leaning against the balcony and taking deep breaths to control her emotions. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I know that marrying me shouldn't have been your choice either, but I was scared. I was scared to have a wife, because that meant I had another person in my life that I could lose ."

She finally had the courage to turn around and look into Anthony's brown eyes. They held back tears and showed the sadness, regret and anger that Anthony felt.

"I'm so angry with myself for the way I treated you. You deserve so much better than this. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you that. The cruel words I said to you but didn't mean. I was scared to let you in. in my heart, so I tried to push you away. Believe that all I want is to have you in my arms. To love you. To start a family with you. Please, I promise I will do better. And every day I will try to reward you for what you do.

"Lord Bridgerton—"

"Please, call me Anthony. It pains me when you call me like that. Reminds me that I was… Am so close to losing the best thing of my life. I will kneel before you and beg for forgiveness if that's what you want." he murmured with a hand over his heart, beginning to kneel on the ground without hesitation.

"There is no need for that… Anthony." she enjoyed seeing the relief and happiness that spread across his face upon hearing his first name. "I just don't understand why you didn't love me? And now you want to try to make our marriage work?"

"That's the thing, I have always loved you. I love you. My whole body, my heart, feels love for you. That has never changed." he revealed desperately. "I was a coward and didn't know how to deal with my feelings. Because they are so strong that my heart feels like it's going to come out of my chest. Please, give me another chance."

"Hmm, I don't now." The look of disappointment was so marked on Anthony's face, almost looking like he was ready to burst into tears, that Y/n stopped his suffering and showed him an amused smile, making him understand that she was joking. "I think I want you to suffer a little more to get my forgiveness."

"I will do anything for you, Y/n. Ask me the world and I will give it to you."

"Such a romantic now, aren't you?" she whispered, admiring his features.

She didn't realize their faces were so close until she felt his nose trace the delicate skin of her cheek. A gasp escaped her mouth, and Anthony took the opportunity to connect their lips in an unforgettable kiss.

Anthony pulled away quicker than he wanted, but he needed to make sure this was really what his wife wanted. "I love you."

"Kiss me again, and maybe I will also tell you that."

And what his wife wanted, he did. The two remained on the balcony, enjoying the comfort the other gave them. They still had a long way to go, but they knew that from that moment on, their lives would change drastically for the better. They had each other.

[editorofeverything]

Hot take: I should not be perceived as a bad person just because I don’t like dogs

(Note: rant in the tags. Ignore. I’m having a sour morning.)

[lavenderspence]

A bunch of cuties in love | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, nicknames (i think that's about it?)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Running late to a meeting with Strauss, Hotch leaves Jack with his favorite person - you. The scene that greets him when he comes back leads to some realizations. 

Request: Hotch request: BAU!Reader is Jack’s favorite and always spends the day with them when he’s brought along to the office. They have a cute bonding moment that Hotch secretly watches. Cue the “oh god I’m in love with them aren’t I”

A/N: it’s been two months today since I made this blog, and it’s been wild, it’s been fun, and it’s been a little teary. thank you for the love and support! Please enjoy this cute little hotch piece, I had a blast writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this, and I’d love to hear what you think! Also, I miss old Disney😭

masterlist

9:23.

On the days you weren’t working on a case, and the only thing you really needed to catch up on was paperwork, your usual start time was 8:30. Yet almost an hour had gone by and he wasn’t in his office like he usually would be.

With a punctual Unit Chief like Aaron Hotchner, it was a shock, and a little nerve-wracking that he was late. 

You’d lie if you didn’t say you were getting a little worried, taking into account the last and only time he’d been late - Foyet attacking him in his own home, leaving him with long-lasting trauma, scars, and without his family. 

You'd never forget that day, and every day after where he was left to suffer, laying the blame on himself. No matter how many times you said it, how many times Rossi patted him on the back, reminding him it wasn't his fault, you knew a part of him still didn't believe it.

And the part of you that cared about him, maybe a little more than you should, didn't have the heart to watch him do this to himself - the silent guilt, the long empty looks. 

You’ve known him awhile, seen him through many of his ups, and just as many as his downs. You’d seen him laugh in glee and beam with happiness, you’d seen him lose it in anger and anguish and you’d seen him cry in heartbreak. 

So much of your life spent beside him, so many memories linked with him, and your team. And much of it you knew was friendly love - your love for Emily and Spencer, JJ and Morgan, Penelope and Rossi. But the love you felt for him was just a tiny bit different, deeper, not the friendly kind. 

You’d only recently started to understand what you were really feeling for him, as recent as the last few weeks. Still new and a little unexplainable at times, you were learning to balance that, within your friendship.

You didn’t think you wanted to pursue anything, right now. It had been a little over two years since he’d lost Haley, since he’d needed to start navigating his life as a single dad, a widower. 

You could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh as the day it had happened. You knew he was managing, but it was still apparent, that it was hitting them both hard.

And Jack? He was a little ray of sunshine in the otherwise gruesome life all of you led - the same could be said about Henry. But Henry was Reid's favorite, as his godfather, you knew the bond between them was unbreakable. 

But Jack? You were his favorite, and he was yours. 

He was your little buddy, your partner in all things art, cartoons, and Disney shows. He was your little helper during all things baking - you'd babysat once and he'd requested chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies and you'd been more than happy to help him make them.

He was a natural baker and a little taster. 

Your love for the little cutie ran as deep as your feelings for his dad.

At the end of the day though, you were a friend, a shoulder both could use to lean on and rely on. You were comfortable in your role within their little family and weren't looking to make any changes then.

9:28.

You were playing with your watch, already having decided you’d be giving him a call if he didn't arrive by 9:30.

Worry was making your hands sweat, and just as you went to wipe them on your pants, the door to the bullpen opened, and in walked a very frantic Hotch - his tie was a little crooked, shirt a little wrinkled, and Jack - a little backpack on his back, and a curious look paired with a timid smile.

Aaron's eyes searched the bullpen, as did Jack's, the little Hotchner noticing you seconds before his father did. You stood up, watching as the blond pulled away from his dad, and on a little run, made his way towards you. 

“Cutiee.” He called out, using the nickname you called him, to address you too. You leaned down when he was a few steps away, accepting his hug, his little arms wrapping around your neck. 

“Hi, cutie.” You greeted him, a wide smile on your face. Hotch had made his way over to you by then, giving you a barely-there smile, but his eyes shone.

“You're late.” You started, pulling to your full height.

“Yeah, Jessica was called on an emergency at the last minute, and Liah is away on a hiking trip, so here we are.” Liah was Hotch's neighbor, she looked after Jack for a few hours when Hotch couldn't stay with him, or Jess was busy.

He looked at his watch, running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

“I have a meeting with Strauss…well, right now. Can you please watch him until I get done?” 

“Go, don't make her wait. We'll be okay and we're going to have fun. Right, Jack?” You watched him nod at both you and his dad before Hotch exhaled.

“You're a lifesaver. Be good for Y/N, okay buddy.” Another nod from Jack, and he was on his way to Strauss's office.

‘’Okay Jack, let's see if Aunt Penelope can download a few episodes of ‘The Suite Life’ for us, and then we'll go color and draw for a while. Does that sound good to you?” 

“Very good. Can I also have orange juice?” He asked, taking your hand in his small, soft one, fingers wrapping around your own.

“Let's go see if we have any.” You walked towards the small communal kitchen space, checking the fridge and then you checked the pantry…and, “Bingo. Let's go see the lair.” You led him to Penelope's office.

“Knock, knock, may us mortals enter?” You joked, making your little partner giggle. 

“Us?” Her voice rang from the other side of the door.

“I have sir Hotchner with me. The smaller one.”

“Hey,” Jack said in outrage

“My favorite Hotchner.” You added.

Penelope pulled the door open, beaming at both of you, before she made space for you to enter. 

“Jack, my love, hi,” She raised her hand, letting him give her a high five. Even though she was affectionate, Jack wasn’t as much, especially after Haley. He only hugged a few people now - Jess, his dad, and surprisingly, you. 

It really showed how comfortable he was with you.

“What brings you to my tech cave?” She asked. You raised your brows at him, prompting him to do the talking. 

“Can you, please, download a few episodes of Zack and Cody for us?” His voice rang with its usual child calm and sweetness, fingers intertwined in front of him. 

Penelope's smile softened even more, “Sure thing, sweetie,” Her eyes turned towards you then, “Your tablet?”

“Yes, please.” You knew it was a work tablet, but no one had to know.

“Any requests?” She asked the little guy.

“You pick.”

“Okay-dokey. Should have it in about 10 minutes, my loves.”

“Thank you, Aunt Penelope.”

“Thanks Pen.” You gave her air kisses before you led Jack out and towards his father's office. 

His day had started rocky, hell, the whole night had gone that way. 

Jack had woken up from a nightmare - twice at that. After the second time, he’d asked Aaron to sleep in his bed, too scared and sad to stay in his room.

He’d snoozed his alarm, just once, and had a hard time waking his son up too. He’d had 20 minutes to get himself ready, but Jessica had called 10 minutes before she was supposed to arrive - apologizing because she’d been called on an emergency at work. 

Aaron had to rearrange his whole morning then, already aware he’d be late for work. He’d had to get Jack and his backpack ready and cook him breakfast. All of that, and be in the office before his 9:30 meeting with Strauss. 

Breakfast and preparing Jack for a day at the BAU, he’d done successfully. Arriving on time had been a little tricky, with barely 2 minutes to spare. 

But when he’d walked into the bullpen, Jack spotting you just seconds before he did, and he’d watched your smile grow, he’d known all would be okay. 

Watching you with Jack always brought a warm feeling within him, like he was watching something sacred. You were always patient and kind, always interested in listening to him talk, even though he was a quiet kid, who appreciated quality time more. 

You gave him that too, and a lot of it - you watched cartoons and shows with him. Colored and drew, baked cookies, and played with him whenever he wanted. Any time spent with Jack was about what he wanted, what he liked doing, and above all, making him comfortable. 

Even if it meant cleaning flour off your kitchen floor and whatever had gotten in the drawers too. 

He appreciated, even loved the bond you had with his son, every smile, every hug, and every minute you spend with him. He loved hearing about you from Jack - what you’d done together, what you’d told him, the stories, the jokes, the conversations. 

Hearing his son proclaim you as his favorite person in the BAU had made his heart soar. Taking into account all the time you spent with him, it wasn’t really a surprise. He bonded hard, but once he did, he never went back.

He was much like Aaron himself in that regard. His trust had to be earned, as did his friendship, and it required hard work. Jack was much the same. And you’d successfully earned both of theirs with your beautiful and caring personality. 

He exhaled a breath, checking his watch, step fast, and briefcase in hand. 

11:18.

His meeting with Strauss had run longer than he’d anticipated - over an hour and a half. Diplomacy, politics, budgets, and cuts, they’d run through countless things, half of that meeting already fully blacked out from his memory. 

He was tired - every meeting with Strauss left him drained. Worried,  about Jack and his state of mind after last night. All he wanted to do was get to his office and check up on his son. 

Walking into the bullpen for the second time that day, he quickly made his way towards his office, only to stop short at the window. The blinds were open, having forgotten to close them last night, so he had a clear and full view of his office.

You were sat on the couch close to the armrest, Jack cuddled against you, cheek squished against your collarbone, face almost buried in your neck. 

Your work tablet sat propped on the coffee table, and your arm wrapped around his small body, keeping him close. His eyes were almost closed, your thumb running soothingly on his back. 

He watched, mesmerized by the scene. He felt himself soften, all of him. His face, the furrow in his brow, and the tight set of his lips. His whole body, his heart, suddenly at peace. 

For months he'd observed the kindness you showed everyone - the families of victims, heartbroken by the injustice of life. Passersby, people you might never see again. Your team, especially, your work family. Jack, and even Aaron himself. 

And as he watched you with his son, the one person left in this world who truly loved him, no matter his rights or wrongs - he couldn't help but feel himself unravel. 

Every little thought he'd had about you, every feeling he might have somehow suppressed in order to protect himself and his child, they all attacked him, in seconds. 

Because the truth was, you earned his trust, his friendship, and somehow along the way, you'd won his heart as well.

Right at that moment, his heart pounded in need, in adoration, in pure, clear love. Love he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Haley. Love, he'd frankly hadn't felt in years, ever since he’d put his signature down on the dotted line. 

He wanted to get home to see this. He wanted to see you put Jack to bed, and kiss his forehead with a whispered ‘good night’.

He wanted to stroke your cheek tenderly, pull you into a kiss that made you melt, and stroke a fire within you like no one else could. 

He wanted to tell you he loved you - in the car, as he drove you to work. In the kitchen during breakfast and dinner. In his office, a few stolen moments as you worked. And under the sheets, while you made love. 

And even through the fear that gripped him in a vice, of rejection, separation, and even trust - he still wanted to love you, as if he was loving someone for the first time again. 

“Everything okay, Aaron?” David asked, passing on the way to his office. 

Aaron barely spared him a glance, nodding his head a little, “Yeah, it's okay.”

He pushed the door to his office open and walked in, greeted by his new favorite sight, and his two favorite people. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[tizeline]

Some snippets into Donnie's relationship to his brothers in the Separated AU

So after having figured out that Donnie is in fact their Long Lost Brother, the Drax Trio obviously want him back, and while Donnie is initially excited to find out that he has a bunch of siblings, he's less excited to find out that they're a bit, uh, evil. And they keep insulting April!! How dare they!!! Not to mention, he already has a dad, he doesn't need a new one! So no, Donnie isn't planning on just leaving his current family behind for this new one, and his brothers react to this in various different ways.

As much as Mikey wants Donnie back, Dr. Feelings understands that this is quite the adjustment for Donnie and that he may need some time to come to terms with the fact that he actually belongs with them and not with the humans. Mikey doesn't wanna force his brother to reunite with them, so instead he tries to convince Donnie to come home willingly through various ways. I mentioned this in an earlier post, but AU Mikey is essentially trying to give Donnie a redemption arc like Canon Mikey did with Draxum

Raph, however, sees Donnie and immedietly goes full Protective Big Brother Mode. He thinks the best course of action is to "forcefully rescue" (kidnap) him and and then convince him to stay and be apart of their family. He's can't help catastrophizing about all the way his baby brother is definitely being mistreated by Lou Jitsu and April and all the other evil humans oh NO they have to SAVE HIM!! The only reason he doesn't is because no one else in the Draxum family thinks it's a good idea

And then Leo. I'll go more into detail about Leo's character in this AU at a later dat cuz hhhhhhh but basically, he's still dealing with pretty intense Middle Child Syndrome and the LAST thing he need is another middle child joining the family! Why are all his family members so obsessed with getting Donnie back anyway? He's already clearly chosen the human side so why waste their time on him! .....Now that's not entirely the whole truth, he's kinda ecstatic when he first meets Donnie, except Donnie doesn't seem to care about them any, which... ouch.

Another way to describe their dynamic would be similar to their canon dynamic, a lot of friendly bickering.... except they don't really know each other and are also enemies here so like.... UNfriendly bickering.... which is just bickering lol. They fight a lot, is what I'm getting at.

Anyway you know the family dinner scene with Draxum in season 2 of the show? Yeah, Mikey tries that tactic here too. Like I said, Mikey wants to be patient with Donnie, but he does eventually get a bit tired of Donnie acting so hostile all the time so he starts organizing hangouts for the four of them (attendence is mandatory!)

And poor Donnie, this whole situation is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for him, as you might imagine. Reuniting with your secret lost family is fun for all of five seconds before you find out that they're actually kinda messed up uh oh. A big reason why Donnie acts so hostile towards his brothers is because it's easier for him to just dismiss them as mere enemies that he feels no attatchment to. He's basically being made to pick between this new family and his old one is Not Fun.

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears. 

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood. 

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog. 

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon