#If you have any questions don’t be afraid to ask!

[sinstear]

if there was one thing that kept her at bay from anything, it would be her arm. she loved and hated that part about herself. loved that it could protect her when needed, but hated that it could hurt someone she loved. sevika wasn’t afraid to use something so powerful to keep away evil, but she would never forgive herself if she accidentally hurt the one she swore to protect. even just holding their face in her hand, sent shivers down her spine and worry through her mind and body.  

you never minded though. in fact, there were times when you’d be sitting with her or near her, that your eyes would travel away from her current card game, down her metal arm, more times than none, and just stare at it. it was beautifully fascinating to you. with or without her knowledge of you just gawking at her. 

sevika did notice one night though, out of the blue, to your surprise, when you were comfortably sitting beside her— drinking from her whiskey glass and watching how she flawlessly yet swiftly dealt her cards. 

it started with her body tensing beside yours, calmy, when you lightly traced patterns on the cool metal, not wanting to push her into anything, just being gentle and cautious with your approach. then it was the way she looked at you from the corner of her eye, seeing you sitting there, looking down at her arm— but you didn’t look scared or worried. not like most people did. you looked interested.

“do you think it’s gonna bite you or something if you state at it any longer?” her voice rang out, raspy and gruff. the cigar hanging loosely between her lips made her look ten times hotter.

“that a challenge?” 

“maybe, maybe not, who knows with you.” 

for the remainder of her games— most of the time she could sit there all day but if she has company, aka you, then she takes time to spend with you before she’s got her usual shit to do, and finally stubbed out her cigar and put all of her attention on you. 

“you’re quiet,” she pointed out, sliding the coins off the table and pushing them into her pocket. “which is unusual, you’re never quiet.”

“gee, thanks,” you glared at her, yet the way your lips quirked up into a smile, made it aware you weren’t really mad. “just thinking.”

“well don’t be too excited to share, what’s wrong?” 

her eyes followed your gaze, and that’s when she quickly noticed you weren’t looking at her anymore, more or so looking at her arm again. “can i hold it?” 

your question was an innocent one, cautious even, but to her, it meant everything. you could tell by the way her eyes shifted away from you nervously, looking at anything but you. “i don’t think that’s a good idea,” she laughed, trying to play it off. “probably shouldn’t.” 

“shouldn’t or don’t want me to?”

“is there a difference?”

she’s looking at you again, too busy focused on what you’re saying to notice the small shift of your hand reaching for her metal one. “who knows with you,” you murmured with a playful smile.

it’s only when she feels you interlock your fingers with hers that she tries to pull away and save you the trouble but you’re faster. just a little, and pressing her hand to your cheek.

“you won’t hurt me.” you reassured. as if you were answering a question her eyes were silently asking, something she couldn’t find herself saying out loud. sevika’s lips part with a gentle sigh when your free hand reaches up and cups her metal hand against your cheek a little firmer, and she clenches her jaw tightly once you’re smiling. “i promise, you won’t hurt me, you can’t.” 

“how do you know i won’t?” she asked, insecurity laced with worry in her voice. 

“because if you wanted to you would have done it when we first met.” you stated, eyebrow raising just slightly when sevika moves her fingers across the apples of your cheek slowly. the coldness of the metal tingling your skin as she moved. “but you haven’t, so.” 

“maybe you just haven’t pissed me off enough yet.” sevika grins, and it’s almost primal in the way she looks at you. 

“yet,” you clicked your tongue with a light chuckle. “there’s still time then.”

your eyes lock with hers as she presses her thumb against your lips, almost like she wasn’t aware of what she was doing, while you mischievously winked. “maybe just a little time,” she murmured and pushed harder.

the cold metal of her fingers brushed against the muscle of your tongue before you knew it and sevika didn’t know whether to moan or growl at the sight of you grinning smugly around her fingers. it wasn’t something she was used to. she’s used to people seeing it, turning the other way and getting away from her.

but here you are, greedily sucking her fingers and having no issues or worries. not caring in the slightest. “you’re gonna be the death of me,” she admitted, in awe of you and watched you closely. “and i think it’s worrying that i’m perfectly okay with that.”

[wisterialwhymsy]

when you're ready

part 2 of as much or as little!!

bang chan x gn! reader wc: 1216 warnings: they're a little awkward, Chris teases reader a little, fluffy, talks of boundaries and different types of physical affection, i cannot stay serious for more than 5 minutes and therefore neither can they, Chris is so sweet, slight hurt/comfort a/n: part 2!!!! question: would people prefer a few longer parts or more shorter parts? because i can either do like 3-5 more longer parts or a bunch more shorter parts, i cannot decide

“So,” Chris starts as he turns to you, gently squeezing your hand that rested under his. “We should talk about boundaries and stuff.”

You nod in confirmation, trying to ignore the spike in your anxiety.

“What is it that you find most intimidating about physical touch? Is it just generally or something specific?” He asks gently, tracing subtle patterns on the back of your hand.

“Um.” You hesitate, thinking. “I think initiating it?” You question aloud.

“I just get so anxious that I’ll make people feel uncomfortable, or something similar to how I felt back then. But then I feel like I’ll be annoying and like people will hate me if I constantly ask.” You feel your voice tremble slightly as you look down at your entwined hands.

“Well, you would never annoy me… But, would it be easier if I just gave you, like, blanket consent? So you don’t have to ask, I’ll just tell you if I’m uncomfortable.” He asks, and the sincerity in his tone makes your stomach turn.

“Are you sure that you’d be okay with that?” You ask, hesitant to agree.

“I’m sure. I doubt you’ll make me uncomfortable, because I love physical touch, but if you ever do, I promise I will tell you.” He gently affirms, continuing his gentle ministrations on your hand.

You pause, still hesitant to agree. He notices, squeezing your hand again, prompting you to look at him.

“Hey, I want to help, however you’ll let me. I promise you that I want to do this, I want to do whatever it takes to help you.” He murmurs softly, his eyes showing his earnesty and you feel an odd turning in your stomach as you look at him.

You hum, nodding. “Okay. Thank you.” You whisper, before taking a deep breath.

“You’re safe here, I promise.” Chris affirms, pulling you close and hugging you.

“Now, would you prefer me to ask before I touch you? Or would you rather something else?” He hums quietly and you can feel the vibration of his words from where you're pressed against his neck.

“Um…” You hesitate, feeling slightly freaked out by the sensation and simultaneously unsure how to respond to his question.

You pull back, so that the two of you are sitting and facing each other once more.

“Can you, like, ask after you touch me?” You pause, anxious despite knowing you have his full support. 

“If that uh, makes sense.” You ramble, unsure. “That way I can like, see how it feels before I decide whether I like it or not.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Chris says, smiling softly.

“So, I should hug you, and then ask if it’s okay?” He reiterates, maintaining reassuring eye contact with you.

“Yeah,” you nod. “That way I’m less likely to overthink it.”

He hums in understanding as you release a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

“And please, please, never be afraid to tell me to stop, or that you're uncomfortable.” He squeezes your hand as you look away. “I will never, ever be even remotely upset or offended.  I promise.”

“Hey, look at me.” He says softly as you turn back to him.

“I need you to promise.” He says and you feel your heart rate spike. “Promise me that you’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable, or upset with me in any way.” 

“I promise.” You affirm, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart.

“I want you to feel safe with me.” He whispers softly and you can’t help but reach forward and hug him, seeking solace in his arms.

“Thank you.” You whisper quietly.

“Always.” He whispers back, holding you close.

“Now,” he starts again sometime later. “Is there anything you’re not okay with? In regards to touch.”

You sit up again, this time shifting so your legs are crossed.

“Um… neck touching, especially kisses. Makes me extremely uncomfortable.” You look at the ground, trying to avoid his eyes.

“Gentle touches, like on my arms, they either make me sleepy or itchy, so I’d rather you don’t do that.” You continue, trying to think.

“Oh! Do NOT tickle me. Ever. I will punch you, in the face. That’s not a threat, just the truth.” You state as he giggles.

“Okay, noted.” He laughs, urging you to continue.

“Oh, and please don’t put your mouth near my ears.” You blurted out before laughing at your unusual wording.

Chris bursts into laughter.

 “Why on earth would I ever do that?” He exclaims in shock.

“I don’t know!” You clamor, valiantly defending yourself. “In books and stuff they talk about people affectionately nibbling on people's ears and it freaks me out!”

“Okay no, that’s understandable. But why did you say it like that?” Chris gasps out through his laughter.

“Because I-” You pause, making him laugh even harder. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, okay. So no ear-nibbling.” He repeated, giggling at your facial expression. “No gentle touches, neck touching or tickling.” 

“Yes.” You affirm, nodding.

“Anything else you’d rather I don’t do?” He asks as he tries to control his breathing.

“Uhhh- please don’t touch my thighs, or feet. I really don’t know why you would but yeah.” You murmur as he bursts into laughter again.

“Okay, okay.” He giggles and you feel your face growing warm. “I won’t ever be doing that.”

“Thank you.” You reply awkwardly, making him laugh harder as you gently slap his arm.

“Is there anything you’d rather I don’t do?” You ask once the two of you have stopped laughing and regained your breath.

“Oh!” He replied, seemingly surprised at being asked. “Not really, no.”

“Let me know if there is anything.” You affirm as he hums in response.

The two of you fall into an awkward silence for a moment, unsure as to how to proceed.

“So, do you just want to do platonic stuff for now?” Chris asks, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You were serious about that?” You gasp, shocked.

He giggles at your shock.

“Yes, I was.” He teased, but there was honesty in his tone..

“But we don’t have to do anything before you’re ready.” Chris affirms, but you can barely hear him over the sound of your internal screaming. “Or ever. It’s your call.”

You have nothing to say in response, simply resorting to putting your head in your hands and trying not to freak out.

“Love, you okay?” Chris asks gently and you manage out a strained yes in response.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” He questions, evidently worried. 

“No.” You replied, your desire to ease his worries overriding your fluster.

“Can I touch you?” He enquires, voice gentle and caring. You hum in response, still slightly overwhelmed.

He gently moves your hands from your face, holding them in his, the motion revealing your red face. He giggles as he notices your blush.

“Shut up!” You exclaim, extracting your hand to lightly slap his arm, making him laugh harder.

“Okay, okay.” He giggles, swinging your entwined hands.

“But seriously, when or if you’re ready, let me know. I’ll be here.” You feel your heartbeat race as you process the earnesty in his tone and eyes.

“Thanks.” You squeak out before immediately hiding again, grumbling at him slightly before you eventually join in with his continued laughter.

This is a work of fiction, based entirely on my personal perception of him, and does not reflect his actual character or actions.

ʚ✩ɞ taglist ʚ✩ɞ

@jennibahng @jchasseblog @itzkingbo

[chokingonchairs]

Tutorial on how to edit graphics! (Or improve your edits! + tips!) Part 1..

Well firstly, if you’re entirely new to editing or a beginner. Then editing can seem very confusing and tricky, especially the intense psd, cluttered kind of edits, mine are also very cluttered but I think the best way to go as far as being a beginner is to figure out what style you want to do.. minimalistic? Cluttered? Eye strain? Gif/animated? I personally don’t do very many animated graphics and I also don’t do eye strain, so.. you’re on your own for that but it’s important to know what ur GOAL is. You need to know the basics of editing before doing anything else.

The editing apps I recommend are photopea and ibisPaint X, both are free. I really don’t recommend any paid apps other than ibispaint.. yes there’s ibispaint x then ibispaint. (The paid version has everything in it and is a one-time purchase, and has the same mechanics as the free version. If you are editing on pc or laptop, there is a version of ibispaint on desktop but you are only able to use it for 1 hour, if you are most comfortable with ibispaint then you can just delete it and re-download it. But if you don’t want to do that (you can use photopea!) I don’t use photopea so this will be a tutorial using only ibispaint! I can probably find a moot of mine that uses it LOL

So as far as resources go.. they’re everywhere.. I know @/lavendergalactic, @/llocket and @bydollita have a lot of good resources. (I didn’t fully mention the other two because well.. they’re not my moots so I felt awkward LOL) I can probably post some of my most used ones on a separate side blog like I did with my last account so.. also tell me if ur interested in that.

But for the basics of your resources: you want the character or person. An image then a transparent cut-out of them, a frame and/or pfp/image mask to use, and some decorative PNGs like bows, curtains, hearts, whatever you’d like. I can link some good resource rentries too!

Once you have all of that: find a reference/inspo, if you are taking HEAVY inspiration off of someone from tumblr or whatever, PLEASE check if they are okay with it, message or send them an ask in their inbox if it’s okay.. or they might have it somewhere on their pinned post if they allow it.

And now.. the question ur probably asking.. how do I do all of that?!

I had quickly made this. You can see the main components. The character cut-out, the inner image behind the frame, the decor, and the silly texts and textures behind the graphic to make it pop.

If you want ur graphics to be this cohesive there’s a few things to note. You need to know colours look best together, what style of editing looks best with certain art styles, and characters.

If you’re wondering “why does this character look so out of place?” Or just finding yourself in a rut with certain characters, you need to examine the character, like you can’t make a goth style graphic with a happy and cheery character like emu otori (depending on the card you choose) or like paimon from Genshin impact.. like that’s just gonna look SILLY. So take note of what this character looks like and what their original colour palette is. Are they a happy person? Are they emo and depressed? What colours do you usually see this person in?

Having range in your editing style will help you a lot, so branch out and edit different characters, and use different colours, and aesthetics!

Now for colours, you need to understand colour theory which quite frankly.. I am not about to teach out so probably at the end of this post I will have some videos linked for you to look at and watch that just overall will help you understand better how to edit that includes a video about colour theory!

If you are an editor and find yourself not being able to edit a certain style or can’t fulfill someone’s request for a certain aesthetic.. don’t be afraid to decline because a lot of the times you’ll have people who know nothing about what looks good with ur editing style or what aesthetics fit certain characters so it’s okay to decline stupid people… (/j.. they’re not stupid but ykw I mean..)

Using the stroke filter on ibispaint or photopea, aswell as the glow filter on ibispaint make ur edits look VERY good! (I use it on everything because it gives everything a little bit of separation yk? So you can see the different layers to the graphic!

Using textures over top of your graphics make it look very visually appealing aswell!

So as I mentioned I will link some videos, and I will also link some posts for good textures, and then add some photos for downloadable fonts to use on ibispaint (if you don’t know how to download fonts on ibispaint I can make a tutorial too! If you are also confused on how to use ibispaint they have a built-in tutorial, and it’s also best to learn as you go, look at all of the filters, the effects, the built-in images/materials)

Please for the love of god.. DONT over-do it with ur overlays and psds, unless that’s the style you like, don’t do it.. me personally.. I don’t like it but if you like it then go right ahead but over-usage of overlays and colourings make it look kinda bad 😭 and kind of confusing to look at, please make sure you can see the different components of your graphics and what is what.. if it’s too confusing to look at, chances are you’re less likely to have people like it or enjoy it. And don’t over-do it with fonts either… people need to be able to see whatever ur trying to say.. I wear glasses and people who over-do stupid fonts piss me off.. I literally block them, so keep that in mind aswell 🫶🏻

Photopea tutorial How to use a pfp/icon mask Colour theory If you needed a visual for how to make graphics here you go Some textures and overlays How to make a rentry How to use borders on rentries How to make blinkies

Some tags for reach: @frilliette @blinkndgone @hellhoundsdoth0wl @smilepilled @nomkiwi

[petri-dinner]

Updated Custard ref. I love my scary roach girl sm…

Some tid bits I wanna share as well

-Her coils are industrial machine coils, so they make her quite heavy, and are hard to compress, giving her a punch as fast as a bullet.

-Her wings are silicone, and are used to help flip her back off if she falls over, and soft material incase she smacks someone with them, they don’t end up with a concussion. Her wings were unfortunately lost, though, which is why she wears the ripped contestant costume.

-The black bar on her chest is a sensor, which is able to scan the mess and figure out the best solution to clean a mess. (She did not know how to clean up a dead body until after the palace was shut down, though.)

-Her antennae can locate signals of where a mess was last reported.

-Eats cardboard/paper waste for recycled energy so she isn’t stuck on a charger for hours

-She got bug pincers that look like hands, giving her a total of 6 functional hands.

-By biggest hater, I mean she is THE hater!!!

-Her voiceclaim is Mizu from Blue Eye Samurai

If you have any other questions, don’t be afraid to ask, it might just take me a second to get to it. 💛

[malk1ns]

december 29 vs islanders, 3-2 win

sid passed mario lemieux as the franchise's all-time leader in assists in this game.

exists in the same world as this installment.

Sid is pretty good at playing humble to the media, always has been. It’s a tricky balance, accepting praise for an accomplishment but still deflecting off to the team performance in a way that feels genuine, while also downplaying the importance of individual accomplishments compared to the team.

He’s perfected it over the years. Doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of his stature in the game, the significance of what he’s done throughout his career.

Luck is part of it, of course. His career could have ended over a decade ago, two bad hits to the head knocking him out of hockey entirely. It’s fair to say that his medical team is just as deserving of all the accolades Sid receives.

This time, though, he’s being totally genuine when he speaks to the reporters after the game and tells them that he never pictured passing any sort of record Mario held. It’s surreal—a part of Sid will always be that wide-eyed 17-year-old shaking Mario’s hand at the draft and getting the invite to stay with him when he moved down to Pittsburgh in the fall.

It’s a good win, but Sid feels restless after the media disperses. Geno kneels for his mandated time, but even that doesn’t settle Sid down. Usually, Sid’s sub on his knees, pliant and obedient the way he is with no one else, is enough to smooth over anything that happened during the game, but tonight Sid stares at the clock counting the time down, tugging Geno back up as soon as the fifteen minutes have passed.

Geno eyes him in the shower, frowning faintly as Sid studiously ignores everyone in favor of scrubbing himself down. 

He just feels off. He doesn’t know how else to describe it. All through his cooldown, he keeps circling back to the ovation from the crowd, the questions after the game, the congratulatory text from Mario that had been waiting on his phone.

Sid practically blows three separate red lights on the drive home. Geno’s frowning again, and Sid wants to kick himself. He needs to snap out of this; he has responsibilities that extend beyond game play.

“Hey,” he says when they’re upstairs. Geno pokes his head out from the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, and quirks his eyebrow. “Did you need to scene tonight? Sorry I kind of rushed you after the game.”

Geno rolls his eyes and shuts the bathroom door before Sid can check him for his attitude.

Sid chews on the inside of his cheek while he changes into his pajamas. Normally, that sort of sass would put Geno in the corner for a while, or maybe Sid would bring him to the edge and make him fall asleep without getting off.

Tonight, though, Sid doesn’t trust himself to start a punishment, even for fun. He’s still too distracted; he’s afraid he’d miss a cue, some sign that he’s pushing Geno close to the line, and whenever Geno’s had to safeword in-season it’s thrown him off for weeks after, making him meek and frightened and not himself.

So when Geno returns to the bedroom, an anticipatory sheen in his eyes, Sid pretends he doesn’t see it, just takes his turn in the bathroom without a word.

The furrow in Geno’s brow as they get under the covers makes Sid’s chest hurt. Part of his job, though, is to know when one or both of them isn’t in the right headspace. He isn’t tonight. He can make it up to Geno in a few days when they have a bit of a break.

Geno doesn’t push. He’s a good boy, even when he’s pushing boundaries, so when Sid doesn’t make a move to start anything in response to his attitude earlier he just snuggles into Sid’s arms, smearing a kiss on Sid’s pec and grumbling as he shifts to get comfortable.

Sid doesn’t feel tired at all.

“Was it a good pass?” he asks abruptly, wincing as Geno startles. He sounds needy and unsure, and it makes him cringe.

Doms don’t ask for reassurance like this. Doms get feedback from a job well done, from taking care of their sub and setting an example.

He wants to take it back, say he’s joking, but before he can say anything Geno answers. “Pass for record?” he asks, as if Sid would be talking about anything else. “Hmm, I think maybe last night it’s better, but still good, best, you’re always best. Why you’re asking?”

Sid bites his lip. In the darkness of the room, where Geno can’t watch him as he lets them both down, it’s easier to talk. “I don’t know, it’s just…I mean, it’s Mario. How am I breaking one of his records? It would be…I dunno, if it were something impressive, or fancy, it might feel…” He trails off. He doesn’t know how he feels right now, that’s part of the problem.

Geno doesn’t answer at first, but just when Sid starts feeling queasy, like he’s screwed something up, he speaks. “Not sure how to do,” he admits, a little laughter in his voice. “Normally I’m not say this to you, like, you’re do for me. Feels weird. But I think…maybe, you’re need me to say you’re good too, sometimes.”

Sid bristles. He wants to protest—no, he doesn’t need to be told he’s good. He doesn’t need focused praise and attention, not like a sub does. Just because Geno indulges in sub-talk and comments about how much he idealizes Sid and his talent doesn’t mean he should be lying here soothing Sid’s unfounded insecurities.

He does it anyway, though.

“Nobody deserves more,” Geno starts as Sid lies stiff as a board next to him, barely breathing as he listens. “I see how hard you work, so many years, every day you’re at rink trying to be best. I say you’re best to me, okay, I always think this, but it’s not just me.” He hesitates, shifting closer to Sid. “Other people see, maybe it means more when they say it, I don’t know, like, it’s different for us. But I mean it too, like, not just you’re my Dom. You’re always best to me, because you’re play best, hardest, all the time.”

Sid is horrified to feel tears prickle in his eyes. He lifts a hand to scrub at his face, but Geno catches it and pulls it to his chest, resting it over his heart. Sid takes in an unsteady breath, flexing his fingers and feeling Geno’s heart beat.

“You deserve,” Geno continues. “All these records, like, the lists you’re on. Nobody deserves more. You’re believe me?” He sounds uncertain now, nervous, like he’s worried he overstepped or did something wrong.

“Yeah,” Sid says, clearing his throat. “Yeah, baby, I believe you. Thanks. You did a good job. Let’s go to sleep.”

Geno relaxes at that, tension bleeding away as he goes boneless practically on top of Sid. He’s snoring gently in minutes.

Sid stays awake for a while longer, planning out what he’s going to do to reward Geno on New Year’s Day. He deserves it.

[chaosduckies]

Rising Tides (Chapter 1)

So basically this is just a piece for Mermay. A very late piece, but if you guys like it, I’ll continue it! Honestly, this is very fast paced, and I’m very sorry, but it is STRESSFUL out here.

Word Count: 2.8k

CW: Mentions of Death, A little bit of violence (just getting chased my a shark), that’s pretty much it I think!

1-Nico 

The ocean was a dangerous place. Even for someone who has lived here their entire life. 

Living in the ocean meant knowing how to survive on your own. It meant knowing just how desperate other creatures were to survive. I knew that. I knew just how much of a light snack I was. I knew that I was small. Incapable of being strong or even giving one glare at someone and making them swim away with their tail fins behind their backs. 

Such is the life of a very, very insignificant, mer like myself. 

The little reef I lived in was small, but quaint. My parents love it. I don’t live very far from them. Occasionally I would go over and have dinner with them. Even if I wasn’t hungry. They would ask how my day was, and I would say: “It was good.” we would catch up since the last time we ate, and then they’d ask me if I finally made any friends. I would tell them no. 

Today, really wasn’t a good day. 

My job for the community was to gather kelp. Weird, right? Only some mers eat kelp, like myself. I’m weird. But that’s besides the point! I gather some at least once a week and give it to another person who just delivers it somewhere I don’t even know. I feel like I should probably figure that out, but I’m pretty sure that didn’t really matter- 

Everyone had their own designated job to do for the community. We didn’t have any currency, but the people who lead us told us to do our part, and usually mers are very reluctant to listen so, no one complained. It’s not like I didn’t like my job. Every time I eat I think to myself “Maybe this is the same patch I picked myself-“ Stupid, right? But, everyone has their jobs so they can keep on peacefully living in this community. Though, sometimes it’s not all that great. 

Some mers don’t like each other. When a fight happens, they like solving it civilly so it doesn’t encourage anymore to happen. That’s not it for my case. A lot of people don’t like me. Not because I did something wrong to them. Nonono. I could never hurt a person. Even if I tried. It’s mainly because people outcast people with brightly colored tails. Like mine maybe? They say it’s a liability. That it’ll only get me killed if I’m ever on my own. They’re probably not wrong either. 

Despite my parents having a dark purple colored tail, mine was a bright purple. It’s not good at all for camouflage, it reflects some sunlight when I’m closer to the surface, and it’s just basically like a sign to other mers saying “Hey! I can very easily be killed from a large predator!” And no one wants to be with someone like that. As for the soulmate thing? Despite humans having to find their one true love, mers just have to make a few friends, and if the universe decides that you were meant to be with someone, then there would be a matching tattoo on your wrists after a single contact. Again, weird, right? 

——————

I was swimming off to my small, but humble house hidden inside a huge piece of coral. I don’t even know how I found this place, but I remember loving it because it had a perfect view of the sun above the ocean, and it was far away from most people except for the occasional kid who was just exploring. It was a nice place. I just carried up some sand here made it look nice and decorated with some shells I find while gathering kelp. Turns out you can make a decent home if you really try hard enough. 

There were two shells I had today, a nice light blue one that was probably just a piece of an old clam shell, and a mixture of an orange and yellow one that came from a hermit crab that abandoned its home. I was going to give these to my parents later since they also love seeing the bright colored shells, but they were too scared to travel far from the little village we live in. There are predators out there that would love to snack on a helpless mer, and no one was going out unless they knew they could live on their own or they were hunters getting fish for the others. My parents were none of the above. They preferred the village life. They practically new everyone here and they were both soulmates. And here I am the entire opposite. What a great son I am, right? 

I grabbed a little satchel from my home and started to slowly swim off to my parents. The sun was setting, the water above reflecting a bright orange hue. It was a nice evening. Hasn’t been like this in forever because of all the storms happening above. It’s a wonder how those fishing boats humans have stay afloat when all the waves are just trying to rock them over. Well, maybe it’s because they have some help from other mers or something like that. It wasn’t unheard of. 

The path to my parents’ humble abode was lined with clumped up seaweed and some colorful rocks. Their house was dimly lit, but I knew that they were still awake. My mom was probably making some kind of bag while dad was eating happily in his chair. I swam in. 

“Hey mom.” I mumbled. 

“Nico! Your plate is on the table!” She cheered back at me. She was always happy to see me. Even if I came at least two times a week to visit. I was old enough to take care of myself. Or… at least in the community we live in. 

I looked at the plate on the table, shook my head and swam into the main room where they were doing just as I had imagined. Mom was almost done making a very small bag that she would probably give to one of her friends. I looked through my own bag, grabbing the two small shells I found and placed them on one of the side tables near my dad. 

He inspected them before smiling to himself. I knew he liked them more than my mom did. He said he used to bring buckets back home to his parents and just have a collection to himself. I see why he did. It was fun to find some. Better than sitting around the house all day and not having anything to do. 

I stared at the matching tattoos on both of my parent's wrists, slightly rubbing my own. I knew I wouldn’t find someone who would actually like me. I can’t even picture myself with anyone else. It was the sad, but indisputable truth. And I’ve accepted that fact. 

——————

The next morning, I woke up with my dark hair in my face and streaks of light I shining through some cracks in the little coral cave I lived in. I forced myself up, lazily rubbing my eyes. What should I do today? The question practically begged for an answer. I could just go swim around, but that does’t really sound all that fun if I were being honest. I mean, people would just sit and stare at me all day or do the exact opposite and whisper hurtful comments and rumors about me. Not that I really cared about that though. I said to myself that once I was able to, I would move away from here and just live on my own. 

Today I felt adventurous though.  

I grabbed my little satchel, and headed out, the morning sun still rising above the waters surface. The ocean felt great today. Today just felt like a good day. Something that’s rare to come by when you’re all on your own. 

Where was I swimming out to you may ask? Well, for your information, I was currently heading outside of the community I live in. It’s not like it’s prohibited, but most mers don’t find a need to venture out further when they already knew what was out there. Predators, other mers, food, fish, water. There really wasn’t anything new to find out here when you’re in this ocean. I guess what they really feared were the sharks that were found near the area though. But most don’t even bother with us. Mostly because no small mer like myself is crazy enough to venture out here alone. Yeah, I’m crazy enough. 

To a large shark, I’d probably be like, half it’s size. Most likely shorter. A purple tail is a sign that you’ll be a small mer, but big enough to be on your own. I was the exception though, given that I had a brighter color and was actually the size of like a small human basically. Yes, I was made fun of by some old classmates and sometimes my parents when I was still a pup, yes I know I’m small, and yes I can reach the top shelf on the counter (I mean I can swim so-) 

Swimming along the ocean floor along with the many overgrown plants and small anemones where I saw several clownfish leave to go get whatever is was that they needed. I had found a huge coral reef far into the ocean, there were tons of colorful fish everywhere I had looked. 

I want to say it was maybe an hour long of just roaming and admiring the many colors of the reef I had just found before my eyes drifted off to something big and dark in the distance. I squinted, slightly swimming closer where, for some reason, none of the fish dared to do. 

Filled by my curiosity, I swam towards the large object, wondering what it was. It was a long ways from the reef. It was dark, only seaweed and some kelp patches were the only plants. There were some starfish and snails, some crabs, but that was all the life I could find. It seemed like this part of the deep ocean was pretty much deserted. Strange. 

I kept going, seeing that the object I was looking at looked like those metal ships humans make, except it was wooden and had a bunch of holes. I swam cautiously in, minding that this was a place far away from home and there would basically be no hope in escaping a shark or something if I encountered one. I took a look at my tail, still bright when the waters here were dark and the sun was covered by a layer of seaweed. This would be fine. Nothing was going to find me here… Hopefully. 

The shipwreck didn’t leave much behind. Just some broken pieces of old wood and some old pictures. I doubt there would be anything of worth in here honestly, but I kept on looking, fueling my curiosity. What else was I supposed to do? If I do end up finding something maybe I can show it off to the mers back at home and maybe then they’ll stop ridiculing me and making fun of me for having a bright tail. There is no way I was the only mer in the entire ocean like this! 

There was a room that looked much like an office. Broken pieces of a desk, a little container that once held ink. What I was really intrigued about was the little open chest that revealed a round pice of flattened gold. I grabbed it, studying the rust colored piece of metal. Humans used this as currency once before, right? I’m sure they don’t use whatever these were anymore. Or if whatever I was holding was even a kind of currency. It just seemed like something a human would use. 

I stuffed the gold piece in my bag and continued looking. At least until I saw a large shadow swim fast in the corner of my eye. I kept my arms close to my chest, keeping my breathing controlled before I overreacted. It was probably just a big fish… yeah. Just a really, really big fish that can swim amazingly fast. 

I saw the same shadow swim by again, but this time it bumped into something, making me let out a little surprise yelp. I immediately clasped my hands over my mouth, hearing another thunk! Before I saw the full shadow of whatever the hell was outside. It was a shark. A huge shark. And it looked hungry. 

My hands were shaky, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t going to die, right? I didn’t actually think something like this would happen! I thought those were just rare occurrences that people were making rumors about. Was I actually going to die? No. There has to be some way out of this. 

Looking around, I found a small little crack I could probably fit in if I really tried. I swam slowly closer to it, noting that the thunks outside were getting closer. Please let me get out of here alive… I kept telling myself as I hurried to fit myself in the tiny crack. As soon as I was out, something fast was coming my way, and I was swimming just as fast to get away. 

It was hard to swim when you were in a life or death situation. I never realized that until now. I stole a glance behind me, letting out a weak yelp when I saw the sharks mouth open wide. Great. It seemed like I could fit perfectly in that thing. Imagine being killed by those sharp teeth- No don’t think about that. Not right now at least. 

The water around me only grew darker as we headed deeper into the ocean. There were some small caves, but I didn’t want to really trap myself in there. I had no idea why this shark was so desperate in the first place. It was so much bigger than a regular shark, couldn’t it find something else to eat other than a mer? Like a big fish or something? 

Eventually I realized why the shark seemed so interested in me. They like bright colors. I remember being told something like that when I was younger. It’s just great that my tail is just sooo bright, right? Wow I am so unlucky. My only hope to lose the shark (Who was gaining on me really fast, ohmygoshwhatdoIdo?) is to somehow lose it in a cave or something. Hopefully there was a small space I could get into that the shark couldn’t. And of course hope I don’t run into anything else that was hungry. 

There was a huge cave in front of me, and I took my chances. I felt the sharks jaws snap behind me, just mere inches from snapping on top of my tail. I shuddered, but kept swimming fast, trying to find some kind of small cave to fit myself into. Please oh my gosh I’m getting so tired I don’t want to die-  Stop thinking like that. I’m not going to die. At least not today. 

Just a couple feet ahead of me, I spotted a tiny hole that looked like it could fit me if I squeezed in fast enough. I stole another glance, seeing the shark right there behind me. I let out a scream, grabbing the bag around my neck and throwing it back at it. It slowed it down just a tiny bit, but it kept after me. Maybe just enough time to get myself safe. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” I muttered to myself, not noticing that something big moved in the dark. 

Right before I could fit myself through the crack hopefully leading to a small cave, I felt a sharp pain in my tail, The part I actually needed to be able to swim. I was forced out, seeing that it was caught in between the sharks sharp teeth. It let go for just a split second, before a loud growl was heard, making the shark almost instantly swim off. Tears stung my eyes (Weird because we’re underwater right?), but I blinked them away and stared at my tail fin, seeing all too many rips and tears. It hurt so, so much. 

That was when my mind had finally clicked and wondered why the shark had left in the first place. The growl. The two huge sets of dark blue eyes trained on me. The slight hue they gave off. Oh. It was just a really, really, really, huge mer. The ones that eat other mers? That destroy community’s for no reason? The one’s that were outcasted? That’s just wonderful. 

I tried swimming away, but the tears in my fins didn’t let me, making me whimper like a lost puppy. My breathing was fast, as I stared back into the eyes that would soon be the death of me. Oh I am so going to die. 

And suddenly I was encased in darkness again. 

——————

Yayyyy new characters. No worries, the giant mer is good. But oh noooo I totally didn’t hurt Nico’s tail on purpose for future purposes… Okay but I feel bad for my little mer. I’m not that sadistic.

But anyways, thank you guys for reading this little Drabble, and of course I know it’s not my best writing, but I was rushing and it’s just these last few days of school that are KILLING me. I hope you guys liked this, and thank you for reading!

[fallbhind]

oh boy sam how could u do this to me. no happy ending, your just oh so mean to me. i just fully woke up after shoving two hot chocolates in my system and some morning reading time, how could you hurt me so.

“‘i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner — i was afraid that you wouldn’t stick around. considering that..’ you paused. it developed into silence with tension that i could slice with a knife. ‘that..?’ i furrowed my eyebrows. ‘you can tell me anything — c’mon i wouldn’t leave you over something small y’know that rig —’ ‘i have morning sickness.. and i’m late on my period.’ ‘i think i’m pregnant, alec’” oh chawowwow bang what the freaky deaky, what an great way to start such an angsty dangsty fic. it’s just starting, felt it in my bones.

“it’s been five whole months. the news were shocking, that was for sure and i took a bit to grow used to that fact. especially since i had to come to terms that i was becoming a father. i didn’t necessairily have any experience, growing up in a laboratory could do that to someone. i mean, i was taught to be an X5, a soldier, a cold-blooded killer. i wasn’t dealt with the best cards since day one. and now i had to raise a child. the worst part was, i didn’t even know how. i never had a childhood, how should i give another tiny human one? one that’d have my genetics. the same genetics i was given from dear old manticore scientists.” alec being built as a cold blooded killer, my boy better suit up, my buddies gonna be a father, at least he knows that he gots to raise baby darcy. he’s got so much doubt in himself about being a father, he’ll be the best daddy out there, giving his kid a childhood.

“you didn’t even know i was a transgenic.” how could he keep such a big old secret from you.

“another one of them was hanging out with our friends. ‘we aren’t naming the baby darcy.” max butted in, shaking her head. “name him max.” she suggested, smirking and looked at you. “why should we name the baby max? are you the baby daddy?” i raised a brow as i asked the question. ‘no, but i’m gonna be his auntie and teach him all sorts of cool stuff.’ ‘cool stuff being.. riding a motorcycle and almost degloving your whole arm more than once.” i commented, a laugh escaping me. ‘we already have one badass we don’t need our little baby here to be another one who possibly gets killed in a motorcycle crash.’ you looked at me, then at max. ‘What makes you think it’ll be a boy?’ the questioned escaped your lips which made me focus on you for a moment, my eyes lingered over your visible bump and then your face.” darcy is a great name, but i defo leaned on max because she would teach darcy all the best motorcycle tricks, the special edition bag with the concussion on the side.

“i was a father. i had my own little mini me — mini us in my arms. her little wailing broke my heart until she calmed down in your arms — and then she was in my own. she was so petite and had the cutest eyes. they were filled with curiosity. i watched as she looked around, no clue in the world. it just made me want to break down into more tears. but i had to stay strong. for our baby. for you. and for our new little family.” oh how cute—i’m so happy, this is happy fiction(convincing myself everything is good, this is a happy fic)

“and i worry that i’ll be a bad influence on my little princess. make her keep others at arm length. because i want her to be like you. i want her to be independent and isn’t afraid to get what she wants. but what if i’ll be in the way of that —? and that causes her to hate me because she grew up to be just like me. a cold hearted soldier. what if she had enhanced abilities like him? and she would be an outcast all her life.” freak u sammy. the wording was literally was so perfect., ,,, BUT HOW COULD U CALL BABY DARCY AN OUTCAST. i’d love her to the best of my ability. 🤺🤺🤺 throw hands with anyone who decides to be an ass.

“she couldn’t cry because she’s been at it for more than an hour, and her little tear — engine ran out.” awh my poor baby’s tear engine ran out, my oh my give the child attention alec.

“i rocked her as gentle as i possibly could back and forth, my eyes focused on her. ‘oh my angel,’ i started, being careful to do it quiet enough so you wouldn’t stir awake. ‘come back — to me.’ ‘and i will love you.’ ‘'til eternity.’” gosh he’s atotalsweetatothepeaawithbabydarcy

“with time, i just felt like an awful father. especially now that you were out and about more often and i was basically a stay—at—home dad and i had a tear-soaked shirt from our baby in my arms.” he feels like a terrible father, though all babies cry a lot. oh and being a stay at home dad is such a cuteies poostie thingy i’ve seen yet.

“i shut the eye she was grasping the eyelashes from and squinted with the other, scrunching my face together. “attacking and pulling at my innocent eyelashes, are we? that’s very un-lady like, angel.” i scolded lightly — trying to focus on walking and not dropping her or the bottle before settling on taking a seat.” oh don’t scold her those eyelashes aren’t so innocent (I’m mad he didn’t tell reader about being transgenic crazy soldier).

“‘dah’ darcy babbled once more, squeezing at my cheek. ‘yeah, exactly, dah.’ i nodded and softly pinched her cheek between my index and thumb. ‘three months old and she’s babbling and cooing like crazy.’ you mentioned, my eyes flew to yours. ‘just like you.” i teased, laughing. ‘not true!’ you gasped. ‘in fact, very untrue!’” that made me laugh, actually. it did.

“darcy was five months old now. i was working my ass off to keep her sheltered and safe. i had a whole list of things i had to be very careful with before handling her. she was so miniscule and helpless, relying on both of us to take care of her. hence why i wanted to keep her as satisfied as possible — well.. as satisfied as you can keep a baby.. which isn’t as easy as other people might make it seem. although, today, i had a bottle of milk. so i was going in to feed her some more. and as i tried to put the bottle in her mouth, she looked confused before she started flinging her arms around and spat it out, her eyes filling with tears.” what did u do sam… what did u do sam I am with ur green eggs and ham???

““Dada..” She so desperately wanted my attention. She softened her expression into just a pout. “Dada!” She repeated, pointing at the sink. “Aba.” Back to her little babbles. She then formed her fingers into a C shape to make it seem like she was holding a cup to then signal that she wanted a glass of water.” understand the whirlwind i’m going through, she finally said dada and she’s drinking water not formula of shadooks i’m gonna bawl my little freaky to the deaky eyes put.

“Her hand was still so tiny in comparison to mine. But enough to be able to hold it in my own. And then I slowly moved to the sink in the kitchen in the same speed as DARCY moved, to not overwhelm her.” remember, deep breaths. deep breaths it’s not real you can’t actually have a child yet (immence baby fever)

“Careful, angel. Don’t fall!” I yelled, intensely watching her as she began to run around as fast as she could. I lifted my eyes off her for a moment and glanced at you. “I never expected to have a little family with you.. this soon. And.. see DARCY so happy with the.. pulse, trashy town and all.” I finally admit to you, watching as you glared at me. “Me either.” “She reminds me of you.” I mentioned, my emerald green eyes focused on yours. “And she reminds me of you, too.” i’m actually so happy she started running. she’s so gonna be flash 2.0

“I couldn’t say that one single word. It was too much. Saying that one word made it official. Too official. I just can’t — right? I should be protecting her. Not whatever i’m doing. I can’t. I should be fighting for her. No child should hear the word ‘Goodbye’. I am the worst father in the world. A disgrace. I got a gift, a blessing. My DARCY. And i’d be throwing it in the trash. They told me they‘re going to get her and. The ink was blotchy from there forward, making the words unreadable. Fingertips went beneath the next page, a moment of hesitation. You turned the page.” fuck if I’ve ever not punched air i’m punching it super hard rn. i need happy endings (pushing a psychotic break to bring me in a State Of Zen.

“SHES gone. I failed her.” who tf is cutting onions stwap it. it’s nwat funny. freak j sam making em go through this shit. freak u freaku

“The journal ended there. Confusion and fear filled you reading those pages. Why did he keep track of her since birth? Was Alec insane? Did he do something to DARCY? Those questions lingered in your head far longer than anticipated. You knew your little girl had been gone for a month or so. But Alec seemed too busy at the Crash, drowning himself in alcohol. Even though he never got drunk. You didn’t know why. It was fucking strange. You spent hours looking for her. And then you stumbled upon a box. Hidden in the ceiling in a little box in the corner. And you found thirteen journals. Each year — except seven had two journals he could write all 365 days in. But he highlighted some. Were those his favorites? Did he lose his shit and imagine someone came after your daughter when in reality, he was the danger all this time? You shook your head. You shouldn’t try to get conspiracy theorist on a guy who spent day and night showering her with love. He must’ve had a logical explanation. Right?” yeah he never got drunk ‘til his child disappeared tf. crying because i’m going through it rn and finishing this up is just a fucking roller coaset cos he didn’t write all three sixty five hundred days a year cos darcy baby is(not was cos i’m in denial) so important. he definitely lost his shit for not getting his shit together for nit writing all year long. i want alec w severe arthritis in both wrists.

“I didn’t fucking do anything to her! Why are you accusing me of such utter bullshit!?” Alec shouted, he was fuming. “I loved her to fucking pieces! That was the only wrong I did. I made those journals to read back incase I forgot anything!? Is that such a fucking crime?!” You stared at him. “Your last entry?” “If you wanna kep on with your conspiracy theories, what’s the fucking point?!” WHIPLASH. GET’ER GIRL !!!!! grchie chow, grrr chie chie. make him stop w “kep”ing those conspiracies

““I assumed you’d say that. Well, X5-494. You give me the child with legal rules or we will kill your family.” Alec stared at her in disbelief. “You wouldn’t kill a pregnant person —” She laughed, “Oh, no, I wouldn’t. They would, though.” She gestured to the men behind her. “The offer I give you is better than what others wanted. You see.. you can keep the child until the age of seven. After the seventh birthday, my men will get the child. And if you are lucky enough and the child is human.. you’ll get them back. However, if not, we’ll keep them.”” wtf i’m in such an emothing whisplash this hurts what the seven whiplashes???????

“He was on his knees, hallucinating his fucking daughter. He has lost it.” dw alec i’m currentlh loathing my fucking shit 2

“He paused. The thick maroon colored liquid was blending with the gray floor. He forgot how to breathe, his eyes welled up with tears. And then the guards brought him closer to the room. A bigger puddle of that thick, deep red colour. It was so vibrant — and it most likely came from his little girl. He had failed her. He was doomed to be a terrible father from the start.” i literally started balling. sam u need to do a part two &&. be like “SYCH BITCHES I GOT U” pretty please

In fucking concluded this shit is great but i balled the shit out of my eue balls.

Oh My Angel ? — alec mcdowell

— CONTAINS : girldad!alec | mom!reader | heavy angst | possibly implied child murder ( i do not condone murder nor is this fic in any way shape or form supporting it, it is fanfiction ) | grieving | description of blood | dont read the ending | afab!reader | i refer to reader as you

> PS. @a1ecmcdowell made me do it with her hey june fic ( which ghis fic is heavily ib by ). sorry in advance. + i didn’t proofread

— SUMMARY : an unexpected pregnancy falls onto you & alecs lap, causing you both to have a bumpy ride into parenthood due to the circumstances with The Pulse and your medical care — or well, lack there of. although, it doesn’t get any better when you two get to hold your baby.. it actually just gets worse — but you don’t know it.

THE BEGINNING

I hadn’t expected to find out through Logan, of all people, that somethings been going on with you. He told me, in an unexpected way.. which was whilst I paid him a quick visit, that you’ve been feeling quite unwell, you told him but not me, already strange enough.. And he went on, said that you’ve been having ups and downs regarding your physical health. And, as any normal person would do, I worried.

But, it didn’t take me long before I went to your workplace. Jam Pony — where I worked, aswell. Except it was my day off.

Considering Normal was so very fond of me that I could take any amount of time off without him batting an eye. Being the Golden Boy came with its perks and flaws. Today it was most definitely a perk considering I could just waltz in and ask for you.

“Oh, right over there.” directed me to you with a point of his finger.

I immediately made my way to you, putting one foot in front of the other until I reached you at your locker, shoving some random things in there. “Hey.” I greeted you, my green eyes probably proving to you that I had something on my mind. “Oh.” You didn’t seem quite pleased to see me. You looked surprised — given the fact that it was etched into your expression.

“Don’t look too happy to see me.” I replied, the tone in which I spoke in had an edge of concern to it.

“No — no, it’s not you. I just thought you had your day off.” A moment of silence was exchanged between the both of us. “I do.” I sighed, pressing my lips together. “You don’t look too hot.” I pointed out, with furrowed eyebrows. “I just caught a cold, is all.” You answered. “You sure that’s it? Logan seemed to have other concerns.” I finally remarked, a scoff escaping my lips.

“He told you?!” I heard the pissed off tone in your voice. “Just ‘cause he knew you wouldn’t tell me.” I raised an eyebrow, “Care to tell me what all that is about?”

“Look.. I was meaning to tell you but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. I just.. well, I thought..” You paused. “Can we continue this conversation somewhere where Max, Cindy and Sketchy can’t hear us?” I pretended to think for a moment. “Maybe.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “You came here to talk to me and when I want too you tell me ‘maybe’ what is your logi —”

“Seems to me you still don’t know when i’m sarcastic, baby.” I stifled a laugh that threatend to escape my mouth. “Oh.. oh you annoying little —”

“I gotta stop you right there. You wanna go somewhere more private or do you wanna keep letting me provoking you?” And with that, you grabbed my forearm and dragged me into the backroom of Jam Pony. I waved to Max and Cindy on the way there. They — especially Max seemed uninterested which got a chuckle out of me.

And then the silence engulfed the both of us. “So..” I started, clearing my throat.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner — I was afraid that you wouldn’t stick around. Considering that..” You paused. It developed into silence with tension that I could slice with a knife. “That..?” I furrowed my eyebrows. “You can tell me anything — c’mon I wouldn’t leave you over something small y’know that rig —”

“I have morning sickness.. and i’m late on my period.”

“I think i’m pregnant, Alec”

BUMPY RIDE INTO PARENTHOOD

IT’S been five whole months. The news were shocking, that was for sure and I took a bit to grow used to that fact. Especially since I had to come to terms that I was becoming a father. I didn’t necessairily have any experience, growing up in a laboratory could do that to someone. I mean, I was taught to be an X5, a soldier, a cold-blooded killer. I wasn’t dealt with the best cards since day one.

And now I had to raise a child. The worst part was, I didn’t even know how. I never had a childhood, how should I give another tiny human one? One that’d have my genetics. The same genetics I was given from dear old Manticore scientists.

You didn’t even know I was a transgenic. I wasn’t sure if you’d still love me or want to keep the child after that ( though, you couldn’t exactly abort it if you didn’t, because medical care was impossible to get after The Pulse ).. Because everyone would react completely normal if they’d get told that ‘our baby could possibly have enhanced abilities because of me, sorry!’.

On the positive side, you began to grow a baby bump. You were glowing. And I honestly tried my best to make this ride as stress-free as possible for you.

With my worst attempts, obviously. To name a couple, I sang Oh My Angel to your growing stomach, a couple lyrics i’ve heard from that song back at Manticore. I would also give you massages and joke around with you randomly and not to mention, tease you so you’d be more focused on being annoyed than the unhinged cravings you so badly wanted to give into.

Another one of them was hanging out with our friends. “We aren’t naming the baby DARCY.” Max butted in, shaking her head. “Name him Max.” She suggested, smirking and looked at you. “Why should we name the baby Max? Are you the baby daddy?” I raised a brow as I asked the question. “No, but i’m gonna be his auntie and teach him all sorts of cool stuff.”

“Cool stuff being.. riding a motorcycle and almost degloving your whole arm more than once.” I commented, a laugh escaping me. “We already have one badass we don’t need our little baby here to be another one who possibly gets killed in a motorcycle crash.” You looked at me, then at Max. “What makes you think it’ll be a boy?” The questioned escaped your lips which made me focus on you for a moment, my eyes lingered over your visible bump and then your face.

“Just a feeling, a girls gotta do when a girls gotta do.” She responded, crossing her legs. “She bet on it with Cindy.” Logan corrected, furrowing his brows. “I gotta get my money.” Max added, confident.

The same day, just a little later when Max left with Logan, I was making some pasta you told me you started craving. I wasn’t a chef, God knows I haven’t touched a pan in the entirety of my time on earth. But considering I had enhanced intelligence and I was a transgenic, it shouldn’t be too hard.

“DARCY ain’t a bad name, is it?” I eventually prompted, stirring the pot of raw pasta, picking it up carefully and making sure I strained the water. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” You answered me pretty simply.

I turned my head over my shoulder, my eyes meeting yours as you sat neatly by the counter. I then placed the empty pot to the side. “Meaning?” I prompted, eyes concentrating on you. “Well, I mean if we hold the baby in our arms, we’ll figure it out.” I processed your words, rolling my shoulders in a shrug. “I suppose.” I then continued on with the pasta.

“How come you’re craving pasta today? I barely see you eating any.” I eventually questioned, currently mixing the pasta with the sauce. “The baby asks, the baby gets.” You stated. “Well, I suppose this’ll be practice for our pasta-loving baby in your stomache.” I noted, my voice playful transferring the pasta to a plate. “I guess so.”

“A plate of pasta for the lady and the little one.” I finally said, picking up a fork and sliding the plate of pasta in front of you on the counter. I observed you picking up the fork. “You seem to be doing a lot of work.. research, too.” You mentioned, which was true. I had been reading up on random parental guide books and asking women with babies at libraries for advice, as awkward as it is.

“I guess I just don’t want to fail our little DARCY.”

DAY 1 / 2556

NEWBORN ADDED TO THE FAMILY

TODAY, our little DARCY was born. I held her little tiny body covered in an equally sized blanket. As anyone can find out pretty easily, we found out our princess’ gender. A little baby girl. She was so little I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. It was the biggest moment of both your life and my own.

I was a father.

I had my own little mini me — mini us in my arms. Her little wailing broke my heart until she calmed down in your arms — and then she was in my own. She was so petite and had the cutest eyes. They were filled with curiosity. I watched as she looked around, no clue in the world. It just made me want to break down into more tears. But I had to stay strong. For our baby. For you.

And for our new little family.

I was afraid. That was something I had to admit. I was afraid — what if I couldn’t be a good father? What if she needed something and I couldn’t give it to her — and you were exhausted so I take care of her and then she starts wailing and screaming — so I stand there cradling her and rocking her back and forth to no avail?

What if she grew up like me?

Became someone like me, a little arrogant and cocky version of me. And no traces of you in her. Apart from physical appearances — because she had your hair color.

And I worry that i’ll be a bad influence on my little princess. Make her keep others at arm length. Because I want her to be like you. I want her to be independent and isn’t afraid to get what she wants. But what if i’ll be in the way of that —? And that causes her to hate me because she grew up to be just like me. A cold hearted soldier.

What if she had enhanced abilities like him? And she would be an outcast all her life.

But then I look down at her in my arms. Her little tear-filled eyes looking up at me. She couldn’t cry because she’s been at it for more than an hour, and her little tear — engine ran out. You’ve been knocked out for a bit. So I spent time with our little baby.

“Hi.” I whispered, feeling my posture soften with her little head tilt to get a better look at me. “Who am I? Who is this big giant holding you in his arms and saying hi to you, little one?” DARCY looked confused which got a chuckle out of me. I never thought I would feel comfortable having a daughter and slipping into the role of a dad especially with my environment when I grew up. But she made it all worth it. All the pain led me down the path to have her.

“C’mon, don’t look at me like that.” I held her close and made sure to support her head as I stepped to the crib in the room, my shoes clanking against the hospital ground. “You got a judgmental glare, little lady, you’re gonna get grounded a bunch when you’re older with that look.” I playfully scolded DARCY with an unintentional parentese I hadn’t noticed I added.

She reached up with her hand barely the size of my fingertip and wrap her miniature fingers around my fingertip.

I felt my heart clench with just how adorable she was being. “I’m sorry, your highness. You win with that cute little move. I surrender. No ones gonna ground you, angel.” and then her eyes fluttered shut. “But I suppose we gotta get you all ready for bed, dont we?”

I rocked her as gentle as I possibly could back and forth, my eyes focused on her.

“Oh my angel,” I started, being careful to do it quiet enough so you wouldn’t stir awake.

“Come back — to me.”

“And I will love you,”

“ 'til eternity.”

“Oh my angel.” I bent over the crib, as cautious as I could to not drop DARCY too fast and make sure to place her down carefully, making sure to remove the blanket she was tucked in to then place ontop of her, so she could still move around. I noticed her little onesie from the hospital. My gaze softened and I watched her chest rise and fall before a quiet voice dragged me out of thought.

“And you were worried that you wouldn’t be a good dad.” You pointed out, I rolled my eyes whilst I turned around to face you. “I don’t know what you’re on about.” I spoke softly and acted clueless.

“Oh, sure you don’t. You totally fell inlove with her the moment you held her.” You murmured. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” I rolled my eyes and approached the side of the hospital bed, leaning over and placing a kiss on your lips. “You just pushed out a whole human from your body.” I mumbled, concern evident in my voice.

“Oh? Is Mr. Cocky concerned about my well-being?” You acted surprised. “Shut up.” I groaned. “You’re so annoying.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Funny considering I used to say that about you.”

“Is it too late to say I hate you?” I grumbled, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Pretty sure it is, yeah.”

DAY 84 / 2556

FIRST SMILE

IT’S been three months since DARCY entered our life. You’ve been working at Jam Pony on and off just helping Normal get packages to deliver considering you just wanted a breather so I decided to take care of DARCY. She’s growing so fast, it’s absurd. I honestly can’t keep up with her.

There are moments where I freeze due to not knowing what I could do to stop her from screaming and crying. It wasn’t often, but it also wasn’t rare. And it made me feel useless.

Because nine times out of ten, whenever I gave her to you, she’d be able to calm down in an instant. It was clear, you were her mother. I wasn’t, and she was spending nine whole months in your womb. But I just wanted to able to care for her without needing you to stop whatever you were doing just to help me out.

With time, I just felt like an awful father. Especially now that you were out and about more often and I was basically a stay—at—home dad and I had a tear-soaked shirt from our baby in my arms.

Though, I feel like I finally did something right. Today she’s been quite observant. Eyes locked onto my face as her hand lifted and she grasped at the fat of my cheek. “Oh — oh, sure I guess.. that’s better than having you crying.” I head to the couch with her bottle in my hand, shaking the baby bottle so the formula can mix well together. With me walking forward, placing one foot in front of the other and having the wooden floorboards creak or groan here and there, with her in my arms, she started to grab at my eyelashes.

I shut the eye she was grasping the eyelashes from and squinted with the other, scrunching my face together. “Attacking and pulling at my innocent eyelashes, are we? That’s very un-lady like, angel.” I scolded lightly — trying to focus on walking and not dropping her or the bottle before settling on taking a seat.

I sat on a beanbag in her nursery and slowly tried to pull her away from my face. I then leaned back on the back — rest part of the sofa and placed her little formula bottle on a nearby table.

My emerald green eyes focused on her. Now I had both arms supporting her tiny chest. She was wearing a soft red onesie with little yellow seed patterns around, like a little strawberry. I lifted her up and down. “Oh.. oh! And she’s taking off!” I gasped and had a very bad attempt at a sound effect of what was supposed to be a rocket taking off as I raised her up, her feet not touching my chest. “She’s up in the sky! And.. whoosh!” I turned her left and right.

“Now she’s coming back down..” I slowly settled her so her weight was supported by my hands and her feet on my chest, before I brought her face to mine. “And she’s getting kisses from her daddy.” I let my lips connect with the soft skin of her cheek, her forehead, head and basically everywhere on her face. “Gotcha!” I said, enthusiastically.

I pulled back DARCY a little to get a good look at her face and then I saw the corners of her tiny mouth curled up into a tiny smile as she swung her hands around from joy.

Her first ever smile. She was precious.

She babbled and giggled, her hands coming up to rest on my face. My emerald green eyes focusing on her emerald green eyes. She looked just like you smiling. She had everything in common with you, physically, apart from the eyes.

“Oh my god, that’s a little smile, isn’t it?” I felt my heart melt at the sight.

“And Mr. Cocky is no longer cocky but a big ol’ softie. Do I call you Mr. Softie now?” I heard you tease as my eyes shot toward you. “Oh — hey, you’re home. Also.. no idea what you’re talking about. Anywho.. well, I thought you had to work the night shift..”

“Normal freaked out when Max threatened to punch him, especially since he supposedly had a date and told us we got to go home earlier.” You explained, putting your things down. “How’s our little girl doing?” You asked whilst she pinched my cheeks and leaned forward, trying to mimic the way I gave her kisses earlier. “Happier than usual.” DARCY then babbled. “See, her highness agreed herself.”

“Dah” DARCY babbled once more, squeezing at my cheek. “Yeah, exactly, Dah.” I nodded and softly pinched her cheek between my index and thumb. “Three months old and she’s babbling and cooing like crazy.” You mentioned, my eyes flew to yours. “Just like you.” I teased, laughing.

“Not true!” You gasped. “In fact, very untrue!”

DAY 152 / 2556

DADDYS WORST NIGHTMARE ; TEETHING

DARCY was five months old now. I was working my ass off to keep her sheltered and safe. I had a whole list of things I had to be very careful with before handling her. She was so miniscule and helpless, relying on both of us to take care of her. Hence why I wanted to keep her as satisfied as possible — well.. as satisfied as you can keep a baby.. which isn’t as easy as other people might make it seem.

Although, today, I had a bottle of milk. So I was going in to feed her some more. And as I tried to put the bottle in her mouth, she looked confused before she started flinging her arms around and spat it out, her eyes filling with tears.

“DARCY? Angel, are you not hungry?” I asked, concern evident in my face. I got up and put the bottle to the side, going to her and I wrapped my arms around her, taking her out of the high chair and cradled her, supporting her head and neck. “Oh, honey.” I frowned as she wailed in my arms, her eyes squeezed shut and mouth open as shouts and cries escaped her. And I reached to take her bib off.

I stood up from the chair and started rocking her, “Princess, what’s wrong?” I whispered, her little arms still flung around as she kept her ear-piercing cry going. “Shh, shh.” I tried to figure out what she could possibly need. She was definitely not hungry. “Are you sleepy? Do you need to burp?”

Safe to say, the rest of the day was me panicking and running around the house, trying to figure out what on Gods green earth she could possibly need. Her cries didn’t stop, at all. Which just made me feel so helpless. My little princess just cried in my arms and I didn’t know how to stop it. God, what type of a father was I? Letting my baby girl cry on for hours.

And then I realized when I was exhausted and holding her in my arms in her little nursery, that teething could be it. I pressed my lips together and before I do something I researched about — because yes, I care enough to do research.. I washed my hands thoroughly, and made my way back to her nursery.

I bent over her crib and gently picked her up once again, she was still sobbing and clung to me. She was relying on me, so I had to do something about it. I sat on a chair, settled on it before making sure she was settled and comfortable on my lap.

Then I put my thumb in her mouth to gently rub her gums. They seemed swollen and that just made my heart ache. DARCY seemed to calm down just a little after I kept up the massaging for a little longer. It seemed to ease my worries, too because I finally felt like I could help her. Be her protecter like I had intended to be. Be there for her unlike me — who had nobody to turn too.

I watched as she opened up her teary green eyes and focused them on me. She seemed curious and still a little in pain, but she just looked at me with her little green orbs.

With a tilt of her head, I relaxed in the chair after what felt like ages. I was exhausted, that was for damn sure. I ran left and right and tried to figure out why she was screaming her tiny little lungs out just for it to be due to teething.

But it was worth it seeing her calm down because I helped her.

DAY 365 / 2556

FIRST WORDS AS A TODDLER

SHE was so little just yesterday — I could’ve sworn she was as big as my bicep just a couple days ago. She used to be a little baby crying over everything with those big tear-filled emerald green eyes. Always spitting out the food I tried to feed her. Refusing to cooperate whenever I tried to change her diapers or even confusing me when she cried for no absolute reason.. And now it was her first ever birthday. She was already moving her mouth as if she were about to speak.

I probably would’ve broken down into tears had I not wanted her to look up to me and wanted to think her daddy was brave. Even if she’d forget everything sooner or later.

Little DARCY already a toddler, running around and picking up random objects. Running back to me because she found something and then shows me how to use it ( visually, we aren’t exactly at the point of verbal yet, she’s still too young for that ). Then she’ll give it to me and wait for me to redo every step she did and then wait for her approval, meaning if I had to do it over again or if she was pleased and let me off the hook.

She was precious. Her little emerald green eyes looked like one of a does. They were so big and innocent. Especially with the fact that she was just barely reached a little more than my knees. She had your face — and hair color.. her skin was a mix of both yours and mine.

Today, she seemed impatient, tugging on the fabric of my pants. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she had the cutest expression — where she tried so hard to look mad but ended up looking just so sweet. Her lips pressed together into a pout and her head tilted up to look at my face. “Mah..” She babbled, and I didn’t think much of it before she whined. “Dada!” And that made me pause.

“Dada..” She so desperately wanted my attention. She softened her expression into just a pout. “Dada!” She repeated, pointing at the sink. “Aba.” Back to her little babbles. She then formed her fingers into a C shape to make it seem like she was holding a cup to then signal that she wanted a glass of water.

I was able to compose myself enough to get what she wanted so she didn’t think I was neglecting her. But she said her first word. “Water?” She nodded and I crouched down just a little to grasp at her little hand. Then I felt her tiny hand in mine.

Her hand was still so tiny in comparison to mine. But enough to be able to hold it in my own. And then I slowly moved to the sink in the kitchen in the same speed as DARCY moved, to not overwhelm her. “C’mon, up goes the elevator.” I told her, crouching down fully and stretching my arms out as she let go of my hand to jump into my arms. Her tiny arms barely wrapping around my neck.

And then I wrapped my arm around her, supporting her body as I slowly rose to my feet, she gasped and giggled as I felt her wiggle her legs once they were off the ground.

I reached up and opened a cupboard, grasping for a cup and turning the tap on. “Cold?” She looked at me confused. “Coo — ld?” I said once again, but slowly speaking out every word before she hesitantly nodded. “Whatever you want, princess.” The water hitting the bottom of the sink repeatedly echoed in the silent room.

I reached forward with the cup and filled it with water. “Who am I?” She let one arm go to close and open her hand repeatedly, mimicing a ‘gimme, gimme’ motion.

“Dadaaa!” She huffed, very obviously annoyed with the angry expression. Which reminded him of you. “You two could be the same person.” He grumbled under his breath. “I am dada, yes, good job, angel.” I snickered and brought the cup to her lips. “Drink up.” I watched as her free hand grasped the cup that was bigger than her hand and try to hold it alongside my own hand. “Good girl.” I said, removing the cup from her mouth.

“Drank all of it so quick. You were really thirsty.” I commented, heading to a towel with her in my arm and wiping her mouth with it, all so carefully.

I then tried to place her back on the ground but she refused. “Bah.” She shook her head and I brought her back up into my arms, adjusting my hold on her. “But you’re a big girl, you can walk, princess.” She looked insulted, clearly. And then I laughed, which caused her to break her little act and cause a giggle to escape her lips.

She doesn’t even know the lengths i’d go to be able to keep that smile on her face.

DAY 730 / 2556

UNUSUAL BEHAVIOUR

SHE looked at me with her arms crossed over her chest. “No!” the word that she’s learnt from no other than you. You were being sassy to me and DARCY overheard, which then made her believe that she could be just like you even more and decide to go against my every word. Today being no different. She was throwing yet another tantrum. “You have to sleep, princess.” I was crouching and cupping her face.

“I not sleepy.” She pouted with furrowed eyebrows. “What if we snuggle, hm?” I suggested, raising an eyebrow. She seemed to think about it. “I can join.” You butted in, crouching beside me. “Whad’ya say, little miss?” I questioned, a grin on my face. “But.. blankie evil!”

We both exchanged a look between eachother. “Blankie evil? How? Tell us, we’ll protect you.” I said, slowly ripping my gaze off you and onto the tiny two-year old rascal.

“Blankie trapped me!” She whined. Which elicited an over-exaggerated gasp from me. “No! Really?” You added, jaw dropped. She nodded her head up and down in a quick motion. “Do you have a boo—boo?” I asked, my voice in a low whisper. “Boo—boo?” You bit back a laugh as you looked at me. “Shut up.” I said through gritted teeth.

“No..” DARCY answered my question pretty much quickly after. “And we’ll both be there for you and save you if blankie tried to trap you.” I told her, pressing a light kiss on the top of her head. Her eyes darted between both you and me. Her eyes brighter than ever. “Promise?”

I blinked, “I promise, princess.” I looked over to you. “I promise, too.”

I wasn’t expecting parenting to be easier than what I imagined it to be ( obviously, considering I was the one who thought that ). But in all honesty, I thought raising DARCY would be catastrophic. Explosions and world war breaks out. But I seemed to be doing well — so far. At least I hoped so. She seemed at ease around me. Or maybe that was because of you.

Because you’ve been doing a great job, honestly. It was shocking how well you kept up mentally and were able to stay strong — especially given the fact that you didn’t exactly have DARCY with your own choice. You didn’t have a choice because abortions were hard to get your hands on now — a — days.

I couldn’t help but think. Of course, you tell me I was a good father. But I simply just dropped the asshole act around her. She seemed to have loads of your characteristics.. which I was glad about.

And then I got brought back to now. I was holding her hand alongside yours as I head up the stairs — yes, stairs. I know my apartment doesn’t have stairs within the apartment but.. well, I may or may not have stolen some cash from a rich dude and bought a better house for DARCY to be able to live in. But hey.. no judging — i want

only the best for my little girl.

I watched as she struggled on a couple stairs before bending over slightly and picking her up, holding her close to my chest with my arm supporting her weight. I did almost slip.. and fall, but you holding my hand managed to balance me. “I will not be thanking you.” I replied, in a way more sassy tone than I intended. “Oh, okay, I hope you know I hear all that sass.” I rolled my eyes and kept going up.

“Good for you.” I heard you let out a laugh. “Your cocky and arrogant behaviour used to make me so mad — now it’s just funny because you’re so gentle. Who knew being a girl dad could change a man this much?”

“Uppie!” DARCY randomly blurted out whilst clapping her hands together and her eyes flew between me and you. “Yes, baby, uppie.” You replied, your motherese slipping out. “Says the one who became so freakin’ cute after having a baby.” I pointed out, a stupid grin on my face. Then I felt DARCY shift around in my arms once we reached her room.

“Look, daddys got you, princess, blankie won’t hurt you.” I reassured her, rubbing her back with my free hand and urged you to follow us into the room.

She looked around the room frantically, as if her blanket would come out and attack her. But, I read up and already knew kids could have irrational fears at her age. Hence why patience was all she needed including a bit of safety so she knew that she had nothing to be afraid of. “Can you grab her stuffed animals?” I whispered to you, slightly rocking my body back and forth.

“Mhm.” I watched you go around her bed and bend over, picking up her rabbit stuffie and dinosaur stuffie. “Look who’ll be joining us!” DARCY gasped. “Mr. Din-din!” I slowly lowered her on the ground as she rushed over ro your side.

“Mr. Car-car!” I crossed my arms over my chest and laughed. She was so happy about them it was absolutely heart-warming. She then raised her arms up at you, opening and closing her hands. “Me want up!” She pouted before you picked her up and handed her the two stuffed animals. “You gotta sleep, honey.” We both said simultaneously. “Otay..” ( that’s literally how she pronounced it, don’t make fun of me )

DARCY then got brought to her bed, you placed her down ever so gently. She seemed freaked about the blanket but nonetheless, I settled on the bed beside her alongside you on the other side of her. “Snuggles!” She exclaimed, grinning. And then I wrapped an arm around her, meanwhile you threw her blanket over all of us, yes, including the stuffed animals.

“Daddy..” She whined, grasping at the white fabric of my tee. You turned behind you to turn on her night light and then I focused on her. “Yes, princess?”

“Song sing..” I paused, “You want the song?” She nodded eagerly in response. My eyes shot to yours and you shuffled around on the tiny bed to fit yourself onto the tight space and cuddle up to her other side.

“Anything you want, princess.”

DAY 1095 / 2556

NEW THINGS GOOD & BAD

DARCY was playing around, as usual. A three year old should start to get around more and do things. I read that in a book — yes, I read when I want too. I am a transgenic and intelligent.. doesn’t mean I knew how to raise children. So, I sat down and I read a book about how children act throughout the years. I wanted to be the best daddy for my princess — or prince if DARCY were a boy, of course.

Speaking of her, she took me out of my train of thoughts. “Daddy! Look, that.. that is one tree!” She shouted, pointing at it, she was extremely proud of herself as she ran around on the playground. I was sat on a picnic blanket next to you. “Good job, sweetheart.” You shouted and clapped, cheering her on.

“Careful, angel. Don’t fall!” I yelled, intensely watching her as she began to run around as fast as she could. I lifted my eyes off her for a moment and glanced at you. “I never expected to have a little family with you.. this soon. And.. see DARCY so happy with the.. pulse, trashy town and all.” I finally admit to you, watching as you glared at me. “Me either.”

“She reminds me of you.” I mentioned, my emerald green eyes focused on yours.

“And she reminds me of you, too.”

I leaned forward, cupping your face, connecting my lips with yours, feeling you kiss back.

A shriek made me jump back, eyes wide. “What? —” You looked surprised, too. And my eyes searched around the park. My eyes landed on DARCY laying on the concrete, holding her leg in pain. I immediately sprang toward her, hearing you close behind me. “Angel, angel! Baby, i’m here, i’m here.” I reassured her immediately whilst dropping down onto my knees.

“Are you okay?” You asked, holding the back of her head and helping her sit up slowly. She had tear—filled eyes. “It hurts.” She whined, shaking her hands around and wailing in pain.

“Angel..” My eyes inspected her head, trying to see if theres any injuries there. I didn’t catch any so I inspected her legs, and then I noticed her pants torn open at the knee, she scraped her knee on the concrete. I hissed at the blood that stained the dark fabric. “It’s okay, we’re here. Y’know what, scratch me.” She shook her head. “I dooon’t— wanna hurt you.” She dragged out a couple letters due to her crying.

“Can you bring the medkit?” I asked you, raising an eyebrow. “You brought a medkit? ” “Just incase something like this happened. It’s in my bag.” I pressed a kiss on your cheek before holding up DARCYs head.

“It’s okay, daddy’s here and i’ll make sure it’ll all go away.” I whispered, easing her fears as I picked her up gently and placed her on my lap.

I watched as her emerald green eyes followed you as you ran back. You crouched down, opening up the medkit and beginning to scramble for items. “Sterile wipes for the wound.” I said, eyes focusing on DARCY. “Antiseptic for around the room.”

You gathered everything, “How do you even know all this? I didn’t know you studied medicine —” “Not medicine, just got a lotta wounds to patch up.” It was a half—lie.

DARCY winced when you began the cleaning but I tilted her head up, pointing at a bird in the sky. “Look! That’s a birdd.” I added some more toning to the word bird, and she looked curious. “Can birds fly?” “Yes, angel.” “Can we?” “With a plane.” “What is.. a plane?” “A metal box that can bring us places in the sky.” “Can we go on one?” “Soon.” I laughed at her suddenly forgetting about her wound and jumping to ask questions almost immediately.

“Has daddy had ouchies before?”

“Mhm.”

“Are ouchies bad?”

“I think of ouchies like.. you went through an adventure, the scar of an ouchie reminds you of it. Ouchies can be good and bad.” I tried to make her look at the positive.

“So.. is my ouchie cool?”

“It’ll heal and be the coolest thing ever.” I paused, thinking what to say next. Before I parted my lips, sucking in a breath, “New things can be good and bad. It just matters how you handle it, angel.”

DARCY looked at me with big, curious eyes. “New things.. can.. can be gooood and bad.” She slowly repeated, making sure each word was the same way I pronounced it, tilting her head. “New things.. can be good and bad!” She repeated, this time much more confident with how she said it.

“Exactly.”

DAY 1461 / 2556

PUDDLES AND RAIN

DARCY was just growing up — way too fast. I mean, I could just.. remember her being tiny and — her tiny fingers barely overlapping when they curled around my finger. And now here she was, going backwards and telling me too — “Look! Daddy. I can walk!” I laughed, nodding. “Backwards.” I corrected, crossing my arms over my chest.

We were quite a bit away from home since I picked her up from Logans place — since both he and Max offered to babysit so me and you had time for ourselves. And, lucky for us, it started raining when I had no rain jacket with me and brought one for her just incase.

So now I was soaking wet and having to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, like run onto the street and get hit by a car.

But the only stupid thing she was doing was genuinely just.. stupid toddler things. And I didn’t complain. That over — deadly stupid things. And she seemed to be having fun. Until — “Daddyy, can we dance?” I was baffled. “In the rain?” My voice was filled with surprise. “Pleasee.” Her tiny, high-pitched voice caused me to break.

“Fine.” And so I reluctantly agreed, reaching out and spinning her around in a puddle. As she stomped whilst dancing and proceeded to splash me with it. “Oh my god —” I bursted out laughing. “Oopsie..” She exclaimed, covering her mouth in surprise that she did that.

I rolled my eyes playfully.

“You’re such a little rascal.”

And she reminded me of you.

DAY 2191 / 2556

HEART OF GOLD

OUR little girl all grown up. Six years old was — an accomplishment. For me.. at least. Especially in this environment and.. the wages we had to live off of. You were still working at Jam Pony, full time whilst I went back to work on and off. Taking care of our girl was most important.

I always wondered how she grew up. Given the circumstances. I wondered if we — I fucked her up in some way.

Having a transgenic as your father could fuck you up in ways — you just wouldn’t notice. At least, until now, I found no trace of her being a transgenic-human mutant thing. Like me. Again, only thing we had in common, our eye colour nothing more, thankfully.

But God, she had a heart of gold. For example, we walked past a garden and she noticed an little boy upset. And she head toward her. “Hi!” She greeted, all cheerful and happy. That big grin displayed upon her lips. “Hi.”

“My name’s DARCY.” A moment of silence exchanged between them “Mine is.. Peter.” “Daddy told me being alone when sad isn’t always...what people want.” DARCY waited a moment before adding, “Do you.. want to be alone?” “No..” Peter replied. And with that, she stood there. And she began making conversation. She was smiling and giggling the whole time. Peter slowly joined along. Her laugh mingling with his in the air.

I was sure she made his day by being so warm and friendly.

Wonder how she got so wise.

DAY 2555 / 2556

GOODBYES

TODAY was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

Today was the last day i’d see her.

I couldn’t say that one single word. It was too much. Saying that one word made it official. Too official. I just can’t — right? I should be protecting her. Not whatever i’m doing. I can’t. I should be fighting for her. No child should hear the word ‘Goodbye’. I am the worst father in the world. A disgrace. I got a gift, a blessing. My DARCY. And i’d be throwing it in the trash.

They told me they‘re going to get her and

The ink was blotchy from there forward, making the words unreadable. Fingertips went beneath the next page, a moment of hesitation. You turned the page.

DAY DAY 2556 / 2556

?

SHES gone. I failed her.

JOURNAL ENTRIES ; FINISHED

WHAT THE FUCK?

The journal ended there. Confusion and fear filled you reading those pages. Why did he keep track of her since birth? Was Alec insane? Did he do something to DARCY? Those questions lingered in your head far longer than anticipated. You knew your little girl had been gone for a month or so. But Alec seemed too busy at the Crash, drowning himself in alcohol.

Even though he never got drunk.

You didn’t know why. It was fucking strange. You spent hours looking for her. And then you stumbled upon a box. Hidden in the ceiling in a little box in the corner. And you found thirteen journals. Each year — except seven had two journals he could write all 365 days in. But he highlighted some.

Were those his favorites? Did he lose his shit and imagine someone came after your daughter when in reality, he was the danger all this time? You shook your head. You shouldn’t try to get conspiracy theorist on a guy who spent day and night showering her with love.

He must’ve had a logical explanation. Right?

Tears filled your eyes. You prayed you were wrong. That you didn’t stay with the man who ultimately turns your life upside down for some sick reason.

And for DARCYS sake.

“I didn’t fucking do anything to her! Why are you accusing me of such utter bullshit!?” Alec shouted, he was fuming. “I loved her to fucking pieces! That was the only wrong I did. I made those journals to read back incase I forgot anything!? Is that such a fucking crime?!”

You stared at him. “Your last entry?” “If you wanna kep on with your conspiracy theories, what’s the fucking point?!”

STRAIGHT TO THE POINT

Alec glared at the men beside Elizabeth Renfro. “As you may know.. manticore was.. well, burnt to the ground. And I.. well, I made another one just incase.. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She trailed off topic due to Alecs disgusted yet surprised stare. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Max told you that? Did she ever bother to check my pulse before leaving?” She questioned. Alec went silent. “As I was saying. You’ve got a pretty little partner. Young.. sweet, inlove with you.” Alec scoffed. “Get to the fucking point you old shit —” “They’re pregnant.” “Surprise..? I don’t know where the fuck this is going.” Alec rubbed his temple in frustration.

“We want the child.”

“Over my dead body.”

“I assumed you’d say that. Well, X5-494. You give me the child with legal rules or we will kill your family.” Alec stared at her in disbelief. “You wouldn’t kill a pregnant person —” She laughed, “Oh, no, I wouldn’t. They would, though.” She gestured to the men behind her. “The offer I give you is better than what others wanted. You see.. you can keep the child until the age of seven. After the seventh birthday, my men will get the child. And if you are lucky enough and the child is human.. you’ll get them back. However, if not, we’ll keep them.”

“Fuck you, you sick bitch.” He spat, utterly disgusted by her. “We’ll send you the contract soon.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.” She said with a smile.

MY BABY

Alec stopped pacing, now leaning over the kitchen counter with his hands on his face. “I am a fucking transgenic. A human-like scientist experiment designed to be a fucking soldier. I escaped but manticore seemed to fuck me in the ass.” Alec ran his hands through his hair. “They made a deal to get her at seven years old. If not, they would’ve killed you.” He explained, not really caring if you decided to believe him or not, anymore.

“You’re insane.” You told him, with a shaky voice. “Believe whatever the fuck you want.” Alec was staring at the counter. All he could think of was his baby.

You immediately scrambled to get out of there. You grabbed a few vital things you needed before making yoir way out. “You should’ve helped her, you monster.” Was all he heard from you before his ears echoed the front door slamming shut. Now he was alone with his thoughts. Fuck.

“Daddy?” DARCY called out, heading to the kitchen. Her beady emerald green eyes focusing on me. “I lost my bag at school toooday.” She explained. Alecs gaze softened when his eyes landed on her. He lowered himself onto his knees to be eye level with her. “That’s okay, angel, we can get you a new one.” He reassured, tears filling his eyes.

“Are you okay, daddy? Why are you crying?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with concern when she should’ve been happy.

“I failed you.” He whispered, hands reaching out to her. “No you didn’t.” She shook her head and wrapped her tiny arms around him. “I love you, daddy.” And then the tears kept flowing. As he went to wrap his arms around her figure — she vanished. And everything seemed empty once again.

He was on his knees, hallucinating his fucking daughter. He has lost it.

OH , MY ANGEL

There was an empty promise I gave DARCY when she was still tiny. ‘I will always protect you.’ And it was outright nonsense. Because he knew from the start he had limited time with her. The journals were to honour her memory — incase..

But that wouldn’t happen. Because he was now going into the manticore building to see his little angel. Have her in his arms again. As long as they haven’t finished their testing — they allowed him to see her now. He wasn’t ready to see her. Seeing her trapped in the very place he was stuck in and so desperately wanted to get out of.

Max was waiting for him outside just incase. And he entered the freshly made Manticore building through the big.. doors.

Two soldiers guided him down the hall. He wasn’t sure what to feel when his eyes flew around the place. The place looked like a mental institution. White, glossy walls paired with gray, marble floor. His eyebrows furrowed in hesitation when a guard put a keycard into some sort-of machinery next to some metal doors.

Uncertainty filled him but he proceeded. Stepping forward. One foot in front of the other. Ever so carefully. His eyes darting around for any bad sign.

And he got what he was looking for.

His heart dropped. And his ears started having a high-pitched ring. The hallway that led to the room the guards brought him too —

Blood.

A path of blood. It was smeared from the room down the hall. It slowly started disappearing at one point.

He paused. The thick maroon colored liquid was blending with the gray floor. He forgot how to breathe, his eyes welled up with tears. And then the guards brought him closer to the room. A bigger puddle of that thick, deep red colour. It was so vibrant — and it most likely came from his little girl.

He had failed her.

He was doomed to be a terrible father from the start.

The song he sang to her seemed hypocritical now. Because it could be interpreted as him singing about her.

“This fire in my — heart,”

“consumes my — happiness.”

“Since we.. are apart,”

“I have nothing.. to hope for,”

“I have nothing.. to cling to.”

“Life for me — has no meaning darling,”

“if I have — to live — it without you.”

“Oh my angel,”

“come back — to me.”

“And I will.. love you,”

“ ‘til eternity”

“Oh my angel.”

[starimusprime]

“How can you be thankful at a time like this?”

If I wake up in the morning, I am thankful.

If I breathe air into my lungs, I am thankful.

If I have a roof over my head, I am thankful.

If I have clean water, I am thankful.

If I have food on my table, I am thankful.

If I have clothes on my back, I am thankful.

If I have loving family, I am thankful.

If I have caring friends, I am thankful.

I am thankful in bad times just as much as I am thankful in good times.

“Why?”

Because I have a source of joy and contentment that is not dependent on the state of the world or even my own country.

I do not place my faith in people, and especially not in any government.

My faith belongs to God, the Creator of the universe, who became sin itself to die for us and pay our sin debt in full so that we may have eternal life, if only we confess to Him and repent (turn away from sin). He has defeated death, and when He adopts you as His child, He holds you tight and never lets go.

If such a God is for me, who can stand against me? No person or power on earth or in hell is greater than He.

I have the joy of knowing Him, and the peace of mind that comes with it. This world is temporary. The Kingdom of God, the inheritance of His children, is eternal. My heart is safe in Him, not in any man or woman or government.

So whether things look good or bad in my life, I consider what I have to be thankful for, not my worries. I remember what God has done, that transcends this lifetime and all before and after it. I remember that God is good and sovereign.

So if I have the free gift of eternal life, and the shield of a loving, just, and merciful God…

How could I not be thankful?

[intergalacticfloralexplorers]

Intergalactic Floral Explorers AU: The Full Story

-The rest of Event 1 and first intermission-

Event 1(cont.):

-After Brittany gathers some pikmin from the onion (which only contained blues, rocks ,and winged pikmin) she would encounter a bomb wall. The bomb wall blocks the section to where the ‘courage reactor’ was originally found, which is also where Olimar is. Olimar and Brit realize this, and at this point the ship contacts them. Olimar attempts to contact Louie and Brittany contacts Alph.

- Cut to Alph waking up on top of the snowman, having no memory of how the ship crashed. He finds the yellow onion and some yellow pikmin digging up bomb rocks. After calling them over, he walks in the direction where the Fiery Bulblax is and lo and behold, Charlie is being attacked by it. A yellow pikmin (Rigol) saves him by throwing a bomb rock at the Bulblax. Charlie was over there because he was retrieving Alph’s koppad (C’s broke during the crash) and after getting it back, A and C retrieve the call from Brittany.

- A and C are on their way to their location, Brit tells Oli and the ship the good news (Oli was unable to contact Louie) and so they opt to wait. The ship is making minor repairs to the Drake at this same time too. But then the Smoky Progg appears behind a distracted Olimar, killing 2 red pikmin. Olimar flees holding the last remaining red pikmin, Brit comms Alph and Charlie to hurry!

- The Progg corners Olimar, and Oli braces himself for a fight, but then Louie comes seemingly out of nowhere and strikes one of its eyes with his butcher knife. 

-The Progg flees, O and L stare at each other awkwardly for a moment before Olimar begins to express his relief, for Louie is ok, and also concern, for Louie’s nose is bleeding. Lou tells him he’s fine, and the nosebleed was from the crash and that it's nothing. 

- Distant explosions are heard, A B and C have destroyed the wall. O and L reunite with the koppaites just before dusk, and they head back into the Drake, ending the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An “Intermission” period would occur to answer asks, explore characters and areas, introduce the leading piks, Blue returns to our universe, etc. y'know, a little break before the story continues :]

next

[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: NSFW, dubcon, bathroom sex, bullying, overall just really filthy smut, virgin insert, virginity loss, somewhat dom reader, somewhat bully reader, somewhat yandere reader

♡ FEM reader

You look like one of those girls that never smiles. Like, if he were to take that empty seat next to you in the lecture hall, you’d scowl with stink eyes and then proceed to fully ignore him. Yeah, a real bitch. That's what you look like—scary. He bets all your socials are filled with the same picture—the same deadpanned pouty face over and over, every single one with hundreds of likes and comments saying “Wow, babe!” followed by a dozen emojis from besties and horny admirers. Selfies in the mirror, showing off skin in your tight tops and short skirts—similar to the outfit you’re wearing now. Captions saying, “You can look, but you could never touch.” Yeah, he bets you’re a real attention whore. And the worst part is that you’re not even overselling, either. You’re gorgeous—even with that sour look on your face, he’d pay cold, hard-earned cash in exchange for a pair of your worn panties.

Yeah, there’s no way he’d dare sit next to you. He’s already sweating bullets just thinking about it. Even though you’re one in a million similar girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day, he's still one in a million loser incels who would do anything for it. And that’s the cold reality.

Even if he’d like to get just a whiff of your sweet perfume, he can’t. The status quo forbids it. He’s afraid the jocks will smell fresh blood in the water the moment he does, then swarm him in a matter of seconds, circling before tearing him to shreds. They’d beat him to a pulp in the bathroom, smash his head in over the sink—piss in the toilet, then flush it down with his bloodied face—and he’d have to walk reeking of it all the way home.

So, no—he really can’t sit next to you. 

But no other seats are available, and the lecture is starting soon… 

Why did absolutely everyone decide to show up today?

Oh fuck it, this isn’t high school. College bullies surely don’t bother with petty cases like this, right? They’re all about their frat initiations and rivalries to have enough spare time to beat him up over improper seating. Oh, but what if you’re one of their girlfriends—you’ll tell on him, and then he’ll definitely be beaten up, maybe even killed.

No. He’s overthinking—like always. No one is that mean. If you don’t like him sitting there, you’ll just tell him. And he’ll move. No harm done. Right? He’s not sitting in the stairwell when there’s a perfectly good and empty seat right there, right? Is he?

Yes. Yes, he is. 

“Hey, if you’re looking for a seat, this one’s empty,” a sweet voice calls out over his inner monologue, making him clutch the strap of his bookbag tighter with a flinch of his entire rigid body—his eyes peeled as he looked around to try and find the source of the sound even though he knew where it had come from. It’s as if the possibility of your voice sounding like anything aside from a she-demon was out of the question. But no, it is you. 

But there’s no way you’re talking to him, so he looks around again—there must be someone else in need of the seat aside from him. But then, why are you looking right at him? Are you pulling some type of prank? Are you really that cruel? You’re probably filming him or something—live-streaming—the chat’s blaring with ew, what a creep and omg, uggo alert right about now. He should just go home before the jocks, along with the rest of the internet, can get him.

“Are you okay?” you ask—but no, he must be hearing you wrong—there’s just no way, even though you’re looking right at him. “I think it’s starting soon—you should probably sit.”

It’s as if his fight or flight response is broken because he does the exact opposite of either—as if on autopilot, sitting down in a rush against his better judgment.

The lecture starts shortly, solidifying his choice, but he can’t pay attention. No, he needs to keep his guard up. Any second now, someone’s going to do a drive-by and throw a milkshake at him or something vile of the like, and you’ll have filmed it all even though he can’t spot you holding a phone—and then the entire hall would burst into laughter at his expense.

“Pst—” A soft whisper comes from next to him, from between the gloss of your pretty lips. You smell like candy and fruit, and it makes his gut tighten—both from anxiety and something more shameful. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a pen I could borrow? Mine’s all out’a ink.”

You give him an awkward smile, and he very nearly runs away. But no, he’s glued to the seat—with nervously wrecked hands shaking as he bends for his bag and unzips it, reaching for his pencil case painfully slow as if disarming some type of bomb. Redoing the same when he opens the case and rummages for a viable pen he could offer.

When he hands it to you, he’s almost sure you plan to stab him with it. But you do no such thing.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!” You cheer instead, beaming with a much brighter smile than before. “I owe you!”

His ears ring with your praise. Blushing beat red as he rips away from your gaze—still unable to focus on what the professor is preaching—not when from out of the corner of his eye, he can see you sucking on his pen like a lollypop—or something else not so innocent.

Oh, he’d been so wrong.

So, so, so very wrong.

You do smile. You smile a lot, actually. You just have one of those faces that rests bitchy. But still, bubbly airhead or not, a girl like you still shouldn't be seen with a loser like him. It’s social suicide. And still, you’re on your knees before him in a dirty little bathroom stall—the same dirty bathroom stall he feared getting a swirlie, scraping the walls with his nails to try and thwart his assailants—only, now clutching the walls for a much different reason, holding on for his mortal soul as you seek to suck it out of his fat throbbing cock.

You want to repay him—you’d said—for the pencil. He hadn't understood why you’d winked at him before you’d all but dragged him off and flung him inside the men’s bathroom, having his very life flash before his eyes.

You both make the sloppiest sounds as you make an utter mess on and of him, making him cry on all fronts—cock weeping with thick pearly beads of pre while his eyes well up with tears down his flushed face, all sweaty with panic and bliss. 

The moans springing from his chest are virginal and raw and sweet music to your ears, panting for you like a puppy—you’re sure they can hear him out in the hallway when passing by. One of his hands clasps itself on top of his mouth, holding tightly to keep it all within—eyes shut and brows cinched. And yet, he makes no effort to shove you off—hips left jerking and jittering in response to your refined technique where you take him deeply, all the way down to the base, hallowing your cheeks, throttling him with your throat as your tongue wipes his creamy slit clean.

It’s painfully clear he’s never experienced anything like it, but that’s what turns you on the most. Sick as you are, you could suck him dry and savor every drop of him, knowing you’re the first ever to get a taste. But no, by now, your pussy’s so soaked you feel yourself dripping past the soggy lace of your panties, running down your soft thighs in waste.

He’s misty-eyed when you pull off with an ever-cruel pop—a sick mix of relief and sorrow warping his chest, feeling conflicted by the pulse making him think he’s on the verge of a heart attack if you continue—and another strumming his cock, making him think he’s going to keel over and die if you leave him unfinished.

Even so, he’s in a state of complete shell shock as you mount him on top of the toilet seat he’s melting against. Chest heaving, watching you as you lift your skirt up and peal your slick underwear to the side for him to lay his bleary swiveled eyes on your bared and dripping pussy.

“I love nice guys like you—” you moan, pouring the honeyed words down his throat as you ghost his parted lips with your spit-slicked ones, straddling his lap and shimmying ever closer until your tits squish against his chest. “They make me so wet, I lose all self-control.” 

He gulps in your shadow, looking up at you for mercy—cock twitching painfully between your thighs as your wrap your hand around his base real snug, giving him a nice tug as you line him up with your needy heat—making him all but squeal beneath you.

Your other hand makes its way into his hair, braiding your fingers within the locks to hold him steady—gently pulling his head back while leering down at him like caught prey. Playing with him just so, teasing him with your words, all in your sultry voice, making his head spin hot with a fever, “You’ll be a good boy and fuck me, won’t you? Pretty please?”

His breaths are heavy and wet, coming out shaky with his instant answer, “Y-yes—” all weak in a pathetic whimper that almost has you cum too soon.

“You’re so nice~ thank you,” you croon against his lips, kissing him sloppily with your tongue in his mouth as you shift your hips and start lowering your sopping cunt down upon his seeking length, taking him in with greedy ease, eagerly gripping his soft cockhead like a toy in a claw machine.

“Fhu—fuck—” he stutters under his breath, whinging before planting his teeth into his lip to keep it at bay—feeling like putty beneath you, sweaty and heavy and dumb, eagerly wanting all which you sought to give him—only more flushed at your mean undertones as you play with him like food on a silver platter.

You sling your arms around his neck and push your chest harder against him, moaning all too brazenly, “Oh! Fuck yes—that’s so good,” you sing while slowly taking him in further. “A nice guy with a big bad bully’s dick is the best!” 

He whines in return as his inches get eaten—each devoured one by one until his tip kneads into the mouth of your womb.

Sighing happily, you kiss his cheek and put your lips right at his ear with another wanton whimper, “You fill me up so so good.” Roosting on the size, thighs resting flush against his, feeling all giddy as it stretches you out oh-so-nicely. “Such a good toy-cock for me,” keening at the way it twitches inside you, pulsing in response to your tight walls, clenching it in ways it’s never before felt.

His eyes are already rolling back into his skull once you start lolling your hips—riding him, but keeping him deep at all times—lifting just enough for it to pull out only a little before sinking back down, making it settle into that perfect needy little spot inside you that makes your whole body shiver in delight.

“Mmh,” You suck his ear lobe, releasing it with a soft bite, before smiling down at him and his sweat-pilled expression. Cooing at him, “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

He can’t even answer with words anymore, only giving a dumb mewl as he nods his head. But, of course, you’re already well aware.

“Mmh—” your eyes gleam with delight, giving his lap a mean ride, leaving him all but breathless, before asking, “D’you like it, virgin boy? ‘You like my pussy? Like the way it milks your chubby cock for your cum?”

He nods again, even more eagerly this time—looking downright pathetic in every sense of the word.

“Do you want to?” you offer to his desperation, feeling as though he’s falling apart at your fingertips, needing you to hold him together. “I’ll let you since you’re such a sweet guy—” you tease while clenching his cock, making it impossible to want anything else no matter the consequence. “In exchange for a favor, of course.”

He couldn’t care less what the favor was—way beyond willing to pay any price you ask of him as he finally makes a move and grabs your hips with a strength you hadn’t thought he had the balls to perform, planting you down firmly and holding you with such need as his hips jitter and stutter—resting his cheek on your shoulder in drool and tears with a lovesick groan leaving him as he fills your pussy up with his creamy spend.

His whole body shakes—spasming in cute little aftershocks as he clutches onto your body, hugging you tightly.

You respond in kind, cuddling him and kissing the top of his head. “That was so warm and filling—what a good boy—you did so well,” you murmur ever-sweetly while petting his head, combing through his sweaty locks with your long glitter-pink nails—keeping your voice saccharine. “Did you enjoy yourself, hm? Your first time cumming in pussy instead of your dirty ol’ sock?”

You pick his face up—cupping his sloppy jaw in both palms—his eyes half-mast and glazed as you nose-kiss him with a smile on your face.

“You loved it, didn’t you? Silly virgin boy…”

Your cunt tingles at the sight of him—wrecked beauty, sweaty and undone. You feel his cock unswell inside you and decide to lift off and release him—letting it flop out and splat on his tummy in a puddle of slick.

“Look,” you fuss, holding his face in direction of it. “You made such a pretty mess—isn’t it lovely?”

Your pussy is left glistening and puffy, still wanting and waiting for its final hurrah. Your breath turns headier and so does your voice, now with a new darkness to it as  you whisper, “Time for that favor, sweet boy.” 

He blinks dumbly, impossibly hopeless, wrapped so tightly around your pinky it’s pitiful. Of course, you take advantage—guiding his head to level with your cunt. 

“Open wide, tongue out flat.”

He obeys wordlessly. And oh god it makes your gut stir viscously—watching his tongue loll free between parted lips.

Your voice flares with bliss at the sight, shy of unhinged, as you giggle breathily, “That’s right—taste the pretty mess you made.”

He’s pushed face-first, trapped between your thighs with his jaw like an open cup beneath you, tonguing the mixed slick from your slit and slurping it all up without shame.

And fuck—it feels so good, you lose even more of your mind while tugging him even closer—all but pulling him off the toilet seat, making him kneel down on the floor instead. And still, he makes no effort to escape, but the opposite—seeking to go deeper into your cunt, crying into you as he laps up every last drop of yours and his arousal—making your thighs quake around him, grinding down against his mouth, onto his eager tongue, having it pet your clit over and over until you also come to the same sudden stumbling halt.

“Yes—yes! Oh, fuck! I’m gonna—it’s coming—”

And there it goes, ripping along your loins, surging from your lower belly. With both your hands tangled harshly in his hair, he’s not going anywhere, lips locked with yours as it starts pouring.

You’re squirting on him—hot and hard—on his tongue, inside his mouth, down his throat, in his belly. You’re squirting on him and he’s drinking it, he realizes—but even so, he isn’t able to stop. Instead, he unwinds his jaw even wider, digs his tongue deeper, and accepts every drop of the warm stream as it drenches his face and splashes down his collar and shoulders, utterly soaking his shirt, making in see-through as it clings to his chest like a second skin.

You’ve closed your eyes and thrown your head back, basking in every last little twitch of your body as you relieve yourself all over his face.

Finally, after a moment, you let go of his hair and step back—feeling refreshed and happy with your work—seeing the poor loser sit before the toilet, all drenched and exhausted with his limp cock spent and messy, looking like a beautiful wreck.

You smile, pulling your panties back in place, and you skirt down again before unlocking the stall and opening the door, only looking back at him for a moment, tapping your nail at a few matching pink scribbles written on the wall. “Here’s my number and address if you wanna have more fun." And then you leave, just like that. "Bye-bye~”

♡ BNHA – Amajiki, Deku, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Yuuta, Choso, Nanami ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kenma ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me all of that ultraviolence” | 2k

logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: You give Logan head for the first time.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ implied age gap. dirty talk. kind of inexperienced reader. oral sex (m receiving). face fucking. dom!logan. a tiny bit of degradation. he guides you through the whole experience (shocking!!! i know)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HI PALS!!! yes i'm alive and kicking. yes university is killing me. so recently i’ve been OBSESSED with this man and i needed to write something for him. english is not my first language and i may have made some mistakes (if you encounter any you can tell me, i won't mind it). comments/likes/reblogs would be highly appreciated. i've got sooooo many ideas to write and i'm finally getting my hands on them. i missed you all so fucking much. hope you enjoy this!!!

It’s common knowledge that all humans have needs. Try as you may, there’s a primitive side that you can’t spare yourself from. You, as everybody else, have urges.

“Logan,” you basically mewl his name, five letters that roll off your tongue with little effort. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge you, his kisses growing harsher on the delicate skin of your neck. Threading your fingers through his hair, you decide to try again, speaking a bit louder this time. “Logan, please.”

“What is it, honey?” he says, bitten lips still pressed to your pulse point. As you remain silent, he looks up at you, those big, brown eyes that you love so dearly almost completely dark now. “Do you want to call it a day?”

His question catches you off-guard. You cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, suddenly afraid that he might pull away from you. “No! Not at all. That’s- that’s not what I want at all, actually.”

“What do you want, then? You can tell me,” he kisses you on the lips, softly at first. What starts as nothing more than a sweet kiss turns into a needier one, his hard on poking you through your shorts. “Come on. Tell me, baby. What does my sweet girl want?”

“I want to suck you off, Logan,” you whisper as you latch your mouth onto his, and you can feel how he visibly tenses beneath you. His breath hitches in his throat when you grind your hips. “I really need it.”

From the very beginning of your relationship, you had made things crystal clear: you didn’t have much experience on this territory. For a man his age, he was totally understanding. He knew you had your own times, that for him to take you to bed would take longer. Truth be told, Logan was willing to go to the ends of the world for you. There was no use in forcing anything.

At present, the bulge amid his legs becomes even more noticeable as you get off his lap, playing with his belt. “Can I?” you ask him, amazed at how straightforward you’re being.

Logan stares at you, so far panting, lust glowing in his eyes. “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters as he helps you undress him. His worn out jeans end up pooling around his ankles, and you locate yourself in between his legs. 

You’re on your knees, hands folded in front of you. Suddenly, it hits you, the shame of it all. How badly you want him, how desperate you are to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue. How many nights you’ve dreamt of this moment, unable to stop that unbearable need of touching yourself every time you thought about pleasuring him.

That’s what you truly want. For him to use you.

“What’s wrong, princess? We’ve talked about this a lot of times. You know what to do,” you can’t help but stare at his crotch as you listen to him, and then he raises your chin with his finger, your lips parting unconsciously. You blink slowly at him, eyelashes fluttering together. At last, he seems to understand what you’re trying to tell him, and he raises his eyebrows, that cocky grin of his taking place where it belongs. “You want me to guide you, don’t you? Want me to tell you what to do? Know you like it when I go a bit off the rails.”

You moan at his words, squeezing your eyes shut and nuzzling your cheek up against his palm. Slick gathers in your panties as you push your thighs together. “Please. Tell me what to do.”

“Take it out,” he instructs you, and you do as you’re told. Grabbing him by the base, you pull his cock out of his briefs. He twitches in your hand, and he’s so, so incredibly big. 

You stroke him once, testing the feeling. This you know how to do. You’ve given him hand jobs millions of times, although this one feels particularly different from the others.

He takes hold of your fist, applying a bit of pressure. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you got it all wrong. I’m the one who makes the calls here, okay?” he grunts, his brows knitted, and you only nod, salivating at the sight of his cock already leaking precum at the tip. Logan licks his lips, curling his hand around yours. “You do as I say. Now, stroke me. Nice. And. Slow,” he punctuates each of his words by moving both your hand and his in unison around his length. “That’s it, darling. You just need someone to boss you around from time to time, ain’t I right?”

One thing to know about Logan: he’s so full of himself on a daily basis, but he just gets worse in bed.

“My mouth,” you hover your lips over the head of his cock, all shiny and soft. He has let you go, both of his arms now flexed behind his head, as if he were appreciating how pathetic you must look on your knees, begging for him to allow you to taste him. “Let me.”

“Not yet,” his hips follow your tormenting pace, seeking the warmth that your skin radiates. He grits his teeth, biting his lower lip. You’ve no idea how a man so strong can become putty in your hands like this. “Greedy girl. I’m beginning to think you’ve set me up. Only a slut would get so worked up about having a cock in her mouth. What happened to my innocent girl? Gone with the wind, huh?”

“Please, Lo. I need it so bad,” you are whining, peppering his thighs with kisses. You inhale his musky scent, getting dizzy. “Give it to me. I’ll be good.”

Out of nowhere, Logan grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back. He scrutinizes your face, studying your blissed out demeanor. “I don’t doubt that. I’m sure you’ll be good. Otherwise, we’ll keep on trying. We have all night, and you have a good memory, just need to put it to use,” as he taps your lower lip with his tip, you catch him smirking. He repeats that same motion until he has you shivering from the excitement of being stuffed. ”Show me how much you need it. Go easy on it at first, okay? Don’t want you choking beforehand.”

You’re more than happy to comply.

Your tongue darts out to lick at his head, enveloping it between your lips. The salty taste of his precum invades your tastebuds, and you moan as you trace the veins of his cock with the pad of your thumb. “Tastes so good, Lo,” your voice sounds distant, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

“I know, bub. Such a nice fucking mouth, can’t believe you’ve never done this before. I guess you’re a natural,” shaky fingers place a strand of hair behind your ears, patting your head as if you were a dog in heat. “Do you feel like bobbing your head a little?” he asks you, and you prepare yourself, attaching your mouth to his head once again. “Good. That’s good.”

With that being said, Logan fists your hair once again and shoves your face down, his hard cock tickling your throat. Your whines and his rapid breaths are the only sounds to be heard in your bedroom. He grins as he takes in the sight of you. “Oh, sweetheart. You look so beautiful with your mouth stretched around me,” his index finger taps your cheek and he feels the outline of his own cock. “You know I can smell you, right? You’re fucking soaked, baby. Think you’ll leave a stain on the carpet? You’d clean it off with your tongue, wouldn’t you?”

You have no idea how he’s coming up with these things, but you’re far from annoyed. In fact, you’ve never been this wet. Your underwear must be ruined at this point, and you wish Logan would tell you to touch yourself.

After some minutes of bobbing your head up and down, he pulls you off his cock and you breathe through your mouth for the first time in a while. As you gasp for air, Logan kisses you, tasting himself. He massages the back of your neck, his cock throbbing between the two of you. “You tired?”

Your glossy eyes widen. Shaking your head, you go for his balls this time, sucking one of them while toying with the other. Logan buries his hands in your hair for what must be the hundredth time in the night, unable to stop himself. “F-fuck, that’s it. A pretty girl like you just gets what she needs,” he praises you, and you return to his length, taking as many inches as you can without hurting yourself. Tears shimmer in your eyes, yet you can’t bring yourself to care about that detail. You’re far too focused on Logan’s grunts and growls. “Keep that up and I’ll come. You heard me? You’re gonna make me fucking come, bub.”

His words ignite a fire inside you. You use your hands, your mouth, everything that you have to pleasure him. He’s getting closer and closer, thighs shaking when you pay special attention to his tip. Logan responds to each of your movements, and as you feel every coherent thought fly out the window, you try to take him all the way down your throat, breathing through your nose and swallowing around him. He cants his hips up, brutally fucking your mouth. Like a dog without a leash, Logan seems to get lost in the warmth that envelopes his cock, chasing his own release. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl. Nobody will fuck this mouth ever again. I’ll ruin you for any pathetic guy that tries to get in your pants. You’re fucking mine, darling. Oh, f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-”

You’re met with his happy trail once he spills his hot load inside your mouth. He keeps you trapped there, his cock twitching and spamming through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You don’t think twice and swallow what he’s giving you. Some of his cum slips from your lips, falling directly onto the carpet. Even Logan seems surprised when he doesn’t stop coming.

He helps you stand up after a moment, kissing you as soon as he gets the chance. He licks into your mouth, squeezing the flesh of your hips. Logan lifts his eyebrows, relishing how cock-drunk you must look. “I think you nearly killed me. And that’s a lot to say coming from someone who cannot fucking die.”

You plaster a smile on your face, hugging his wide frame. “So, was I okay?”

His jaw goes slack, and he lowers his head to capture your lips in another kiss. “You were fantastic. I could easily get hard again just from thinking about it,” his fingers trace the buttons of your shirt, tugging at the fabric of it. “What if you let me focus on yourself for a while? You’ve already done enough, baby. Let me take care of you,” he rubs his hands on your thighs, reaching for your drenched panties. “Perhaps we could try something else today. That pussy’s begging to be fucked.” 

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[that-house]

Potion Vendor FAQs:

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.

Do you sell love potions? No.

Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.

Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.

Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.

Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.

So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.

Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.

Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.

Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.

Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.

Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.

Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.

So can you make poison potions? No.

Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.

Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.

How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.

You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.

Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.

Road trip? He lives in Seattle.

Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.

For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.

And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.

Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

[unluckiestmember]

Arcane x Ransom! Reader

Summary: How would the Arcane characters react if the reader was held for ransom?

Characters: Jinx/Powder, Violet "Vi", Caitlyn Kiramman, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Sevika, Silco and Licker (mention).

Warning: Slight cursing and suggestive themes/implied sexual themes.

A/N: I literally got the idea for this request from Helluva Boss, particular episode 6 of season 2. I hope you all enjoy this though, I know I did!

Powder/Jinx

“You have who?! Where are they?!… You want me to pay you for them? Oh I’ll pay you alright!”

Jinx doesn’t take the idea of you getting hurt lightly. She already is super overprotective of her little trinket, so when she heard that you were being held for a price, she wasted no time grabbing Pow-Pow, Zapper and a bunch of chompers to aid her in her “heroic rescue” for her princess/prince. As soon as she is where you are held, you don’t have to see her to know she’s there for you. Don’t expect any talking, just laughter and hollers followed by gunfire, screams for mercy and explosions.

Before you know it, the Loose Cannon is standing in front of you, pulling you into the tightest hug ever and dressing your face with kisses. She will ask you countless questions while freaking out, beating herself up over you being in such a position. But when she feels you touch her and assure her you’re okay, she’s on cloud nine. As soon as she laces the area with bombs to blow it to kingdom come, she’s back at her hideout, being super affectionate and touchy the entire night. Don’t expect anyone to be touching you for months unless they want their head blown off.

Violet “Vi”

“… What?… You… You just pissed off the wrong woman.”

First word that you were kidnapped, Vi wasted no time hunting your captors down and beating them to a bloody pulp. The woman is like a bull seeing red knowing you were somewhere cold and scared away from home and her arms. So until you were back to her, anyone was able to get a personal greeting from the pink haired fighter. Vi is pretty merciful, but in situations like this, she isn’t afraid to push the envelope by giving life threatening injuries to the bastards that hurt you.

When she found you, she didn’t bother asking any questions or giving any money to your kidnappers, unless they counted a mouthful of fists and kicks as payment enough. When she’s done with her punishment, she’ll immediately scoop you into her arms and take the both of you back home, where she checks you for injuries and asks if you are okay. Please comfort her. She may act all tough and cool, but the situation scared her due to thinking she lost you just like everyone else. As soon as she knows you are alright, she’ll promise no one will ever do that to you again.

Caitlyn Kiramman

“You kidnapped Y/N? Why would- Who do you think you are? You better let them go right now!”

Caitlyn was used to people being kidnapped on the job, having to save them or negotiate with criminals for their safety. But she would have never imagined such a thing happening to you of all people. When she was told you were being held for ransom, she understandably panicked before taking deep breaths and thinking of how to get you back to her. The enforcer can easily scrounge up the money for you to be freed, because you were more important than any coin that reaches her pockets.

So when she arranges a meeting with your kidnappers and finds you so scared, she finds it hard to stop herself from grabbing you and making a run for it. If the kidnappers pull a fast one on her though, all bets are off and bullets are flying. When she has you back, she will watch you like a hawk and be on the defensive for a while. But if you assure her enough that you are okay, she will lighten up. On the bright side, after the incident she’s more romantic and spends more time with you in and out of work.

Viktor

“Look, I’m sure we can talk about this. I’ll get you the money, just. Please don’t hurt them…”

Viktor beat himself up when he heard you were taken away from him for monetary purposes. He just doesn’t understand how he would let this happen- How he would let someone easily take you under his nose and put you in harm’s way?! He could’ve waddled in his sorrows, but he couldn’t. He had to save you and he had to act fast! It would hurt him, but he would ask for assistance from Jayce and the council if he can. And if they can’t help him? Well. Maybe it was time to break out those so-called dangerous machines Heimerdinger warned him against using.

When he finds you, he’s wasting no time trying to negotiate a way around matters so you could be freed. And if those negotiations don’t go according to plan, then he’ll use his machinery and his brain to outsmart the criminals into freeing you. When you are back together, he’ll just. Hold you. Like you are a precious gemstone. He’ll promise you this will never happen again. No one will ever lay their hands on you again…

Jayce Talis

“Is this supposed to scare me? If anything, you should be the one scared- Do you know who I am?!”

Jayce does not take threats lightly, especially when it comes to his family, friends and his loved ones. As soon as he was told you were held for Ransom, he let his anger and determination to get you back fuel him to do anything to send a message and bring you back to safety. You will immediately know your boyfriend got the message because in a matter of hours, enforcers are barging into the area you were held like they were entering a war, shooting, punching and slamming anyone who got in their way from their goal; You.

And Jayce is in the middle of it all, swinging his hammer without remorse before running to your rescue as your knight in shining armor. As soon as you grab his hand, he’s walking you back to his place casually through the enforcers destroying everything in their sights and leaving a message for the assholes that took you; Never. Ever. Touch the councilman’s lover. Don’t expect to go anywhere without guards following you if Jayce isn’t, whether you want to or not. Jayce just can’t take the chance for you to be taken again. Is it extreme? Yes. But it was worth it.

Sevika

“Ransom? Seriously? Please, that’s nothing. And I’m about to show you why.”

When it comes to ransom, Sevika wasn’t new to having her friends or past lovers be kidnapped for money. So when she heard you were being held hostage, she casually grabbed her poncho, fixed her arm for a brawl and headed outside to round her co-workers up. When she found you and the ones that took you, she wasted no time kicking in the doors and sicking her co-workers on everyone before she made her way towards you after knocking some skulls in. She’ll ask if you are okay and especially check you for any injuries before grabbing you and joking how you found yourself in this predicament.

The fight rages on as soon as she places you outside for safety. Saving you wasn’t enough. No, she needed everyone to know that when someone messes with you, they have to deal with her and the rest of Zaun. When everything is over and done, Sevika will take you both back home and treat any injuries you want before kissing your cheek and simply talking as if you weren’t kidnapped to begin with. If you think she doesn’t care, then hoo boy. The way she’ll treat you that night in bed will make you think otherwise.

Silco

“Hmm… If I were you, I’d beg for mercy when I get there…”

Silco is never one to be threatened because he’s always the one making the threats. Hearing about you being held for Ransom made him immediately go on the move to round up Sevika to follow him in bringing you back to him. If he gets there and doesn’t find you anywhere, he will deliver a silent signal to bring the house down. But if you are present, then he won’t need violence to be delivered by his Right Hand. He’ll just need to put the fear of gods into your kidnapper.

He’ll paint them a picture of how he’ll find their families and let them listen to the melody of their bones breaking. How he’ll have Licker carve paintings into their bodies and let them choke on their own blood as they beg for mercy. What do they think of that? They wouldn’t like that at all. As a matter of fact, they would hate it so much that they would release you and fade from existence right there. As soon as you are back to Silco, he’s going to take you back home as if this was only a minor inconvenience. But as soon as you two are behind closed doors, he can’t help from keeping his hands to himself and make promises against your skin.

If you have any requests for Arcane, X-Men '97 or Blue Eye Samurai, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay safe, stay hydrated and have a good day!

[nadvs]

wish you’d ask me (one-shot)

pairing zach maclaren x female reader

summary you and your friend zach are on your way to a weekend retreat when suddenly, you wake up in the hospital with a concussion. zach is relieved you’re okay, until he realizes that you’re under the impression that he’s your boyfriend.

tags plot-flip of ‘the other zoey’ where reader loses her memory. college setting. friends to lovers. mutual pining. mentioned song is ‘red love’ by dream ivory (zach gives indie soft boy yfm). angst and fluff. no smut. hugs to my zach girlies @juniebugg & @nemesyaaa <3 divider credit.

» masterlist

››› friday

“Uh oh,” you mumble.

“What is it?” Zach asks. His gaze is fixed ahead, the snowy road a stretch of glittering white under the afternoon sun. You bring your phone up closer to your face.

“Chase just texted the group,” you explain. “Apparently, the furnace broke.”

“Uh oh,” he echoes.

“Exactly,” you say with a defeated laugh. “What now? Do we cancel? We can’t be out there all weekend with no heat.”

Zach checks the time on his dashboard to see you have thirty minutes left of the drive to the cabin you rented with your friends. The four of them are already there, waiting for you two.

“Nevermind,” you say. “Esha texted. The only thing broken is Chase’s sense of humor. I’m this close to throwing him outside and locking the door.”

You hold up your hand in a pinching motion.

“And she used this emoji,” you explain with a giggle.

Zach’s eyes drift to you, an endeared smile pulling on his lips.

“Appreciate the demonstration,” he says.

He reaches a red light and forces himself not to stare at you. He’s afraid that one day, his feelings for you will refuse to stay stuck in his heart and he’ll just blurt them out.

The past hour in the car with you has been a dream. Really, any time he spends with you is a dream. You’re usually all together as a group, so he cherishes the rare moments he gets to be alone with you.

He knows admitting his feelings to you comes with the risk of losing your friendship and fracturing the bond you both have in the group. But sometimes, it’s like keeping them in actually physically hurts.

“What’s your favorite emoji?” you ask. “No, wait.” You think back to the texts you’ve exchanged over the many months you’ve been friends. “I already know. It’s the guy running. Your version of saying on my way.”

“It’s efficient,” he replies with a shrug.

“Okay, so, what’s your second favorite emoji?” you say.

Zach laughs heartily and says, “You never run out of questions.”

“Do you mean that in a ‘you’re so much fun’ way,” you ask, “or in a ‘I’m too nice to say it, but shut up’ way?”

“Please don’t shut up,” he says in a rush. “You’re keeping me entertained.”

“It’s the least I can do after you stayed back for me.”

You were the only person in your friend group who had a class you couldn’t miss today. Zach offered to leave for the cabin with you, saying he had an important essay he wanted to finish this morning anyway, while everyone else drove up last night.

He had already finished that essay two days ago.

“It was no problem,” he replies. He means it. Nothing is too difficult for him if it’s for you.

“I’ll still pay you back,” you say. You stifle a yawn, fighting off the fatigue that’s been melting into you for the past hour. “What can I get you? What do you want most in the world?”

Zach chews on his bottom lip, pretending to think, when really, what he wants most in the world is sitting in his passenger seat, the prettiest and kindest girl he’s ever known, her gaze burning into him in his peripheral vision.

“A life-changing cup of hot cocoa,” he replies.

“Big ask, but you got it,” you agree with a laugh. “You can enjoy it in your grandpa pj’s.”

Zach smirks. A few nights ago, on a group video call, you amusedly pointed out the plaid button-up he was wearing in bed.

“They’re comfortable,” he counters.

“They’re still pajamas an old man would wear,” you tease. Your phone buzzes in your lap. “It’s Chase. Esha ruined my prank. Scaring us that we’ll freeze? What kind of prank is that?”

“He’s ridiculous,” Zach laughs.

The six of you met back when you were put together for a group project. You all got along so well that you started hanging out outside of class. Zach has grown to deeply care for everyone in the group. You, especially.

“I’ve been playing my music this whole ride,” you realize. “It’s only fair that you get to choose the songs for the last stretch.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “You’re a good dj.”

“For once in your life, stop being so nice and just play what you want,” you tease. “Since your phone is the GPS, we can keep using mine. Do you have any public playlists?”

He scratches his cheek, nerves filling his chest.

“You’ll make fun of me,” he says.

“Zachary,” you gasp. “When have I ever made fun of you?”

“Like, a minute ago.”

“Other than that.”

“Five minutes ago?”

You laugh again and Zach swears it’s the nicest sound he’s ever heard. Nicer than any song either of you could put on.

“My music is either workout stuff or just… sappy,” he admits.

“I’d expect nothing less,” you respond with a chuckle. “No pressure, but I promise, I won’t judge.”

He breathes a laugh and tells you his username, praying he can keep a straight face if the songs he listens to when he’s thinking about you play.

You tap on the playlist he titled ‘Relaxing’ and sink back in your seat as you gaze out the window. The glass is a little fogged, the world looking like it was dusted with powdered sugar.

The gentle guitar spills out of the speakers as your eyes travel over snow-covered peaks of evergreens that line the road.

Your heart pulls once you hear the song’s first lines, curious if Zach relates to them.

I’m the type of guy, trying not to fight

Not so perfect but I always try to bring the light

He’s easygoing and optimistic – that much is true. But not so perfect? If you had the chance, you’d tell him how perfect he is, over and over again.

Your eyes slowly flutter shut, lulled by the melody. You tell yourself not to daydream about the man sitting next to you when you’re certain he doesn’t feel the same way you do, but it’s easier said than done.

You can’t help it. The longer you’re Zach’s friend, the more you have to yearn for. You’re convinced he has the purest heart you’ve ever known.

But through the conversations you’ve had with your friends about your love lives, you’ve learned that Zach is a romantic, never nervous to pursue a girl he likes. And if he liked you, you’re sure he’d have told you by now.

When you swore Esha and Maggie to secrecy regarding your crush on him, they were confident he feels the same way. You still aren’t.

I don’t wanna feel insecure about a thing

But she makes me feel like I don’t even know what’s happening

Pull me closer and it’s like I forget what was wrong

The thought of pulling Zach closer, of making his insecurities and problems go away makes your stomach twist with warmth.

And then, you’re lying in bed with him, cocooned in a fluffy duvet, your hand on his cheek as you gaze at him. Your heart is full, the air buzzing with love. He worryingly asks you if you slept enough. You nod and he tells you how beautiful you are and you press your lips on his.

Sudden stillness stirs you awake. You meet his sweet blue eyes.

Oh. You fell asleep. And you had a dream about Zach so tender that your heart is still racing, your lips tingling from the kisses he never even gave you.

“Did we make it?” you murmur, tumbling back into reality, grounding yourself in the fact that you’re in a parked car, not a cozy bed.

“Not yet,” Zach says. “I wanted to make a quick stop. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You look through the windshield to see a convenience store sign, the bottom skirted in translucent icicles.

“It’s okay,” you stutter, unbuckling your seatbelt. “It’ll be good to stretch my legs.”

Cold air pricks your cheeks when you step out of the car. Even though Zach has no idea what your subconscious just threw you into, it’s embarrassing to be around him after such an romantic dream.

You round the car and approach the front door, which Zach is holding open for you. In your daze, you realize you forgot your wallet.

“My wallet,” you say in a hush, turning back.

“I’ll cover it,” Zach offers.

But you’re already scurrying to the car. And then, you lose your balance.

.❅❅❅.

The weight in Zach’s stomach is catastrophically heavy.

You’ve been in a confused daze since your fall. And he’s worried sick.

He stands next to you as you sit in bed, blinking slowly. Since he helped pick you up off the icy concrete and drove you to the nearest hospital, you’ve been slowly coming to your senses.

The doctor comes in and asks a few questions. You get the first few right – your full name, your date of birth, your major, your address. All said confidently, even through the fog blocking your mind.

That’s a relief.

But then, you’re not sure what day of the week it is. You can’t tell her what you had for breakfast. And, most confusing of all, when the doctor asks if you know who he is, you say, “Zach. My boyfriend.”

He swallows hard, the word fluttering in his mind. Boyfriend?

The doctor runs a few tests, checking your coordination and reflexes, then offers a sympathetic grimace.

“You have a mild concussion. You’re not showing any serious signs I’m concerned about, but we should do a CT scan just in case.” The doctor looks to Zach. “Can you come with me to help book it?”

He nods, giving you one more worried glance before he trails the doctor out of the room.

After he tucks the appointment card in his wallet, he listens to the doctor’s instructions. Rest. Hydrate. Reduce stress. No screens. Come back if symptoms worsen.

“What if she’s remembering things wrong?” Zach asks. “I… uh, I’m not her boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

“Her memory will likely come back to her in pieces,” the doctor reassures. “It’s normal that things are jumbled. She’ll be fragile for a bit.”

“What do I do? Is it best for her healing if I play along?”

“The less stress on her brain, the better,” she says. “You can calmly tell her what she has wrong or let her believe the minor, harmless things until she’s herself again. I’m sure she’ll be better soon and you won’t even have to correct her.”

Zach’s chest strains in anxiety, worried that he’ll mess something up. The last thing he wants to do is impede your healing by stressing you out.

When he comes back into the room, your eyes light up in a way they never have for him before. He tries not to let it get to him.

“Hey,” you say lazily, gazing at him with adoration. “Is it booked? Can we go now? We’re so late.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” he says softly. “You’re injured.”

You giggle, stretching your arm out. Hesitatingly, Zach steps closer, letting you warmly hold his hand atop the thin blanket. He feels guilty for enjoying it.

“Did you tell them what happened?” you ask.

“Yeah, I – uh, I…” He begins to stammer as you gently run your fingers over his knuckles. “I should update them, actually.”

He pulls away abruptly, taking his phone out, brows furrowed. A simple touch from you is overwhelming enough, let alone when you’re only doing it because you’re concussed and confused.

You watch him text, his expression tense. He’s always like this, so worried about you. You think back to a few days ago, when he was concerned you didn’t get enough sleep as you lazed in bed together.

“Relax,” you say gently. “She said it was mild, right?”

“Yeah.” Zach keeps his eyes on the screen, unsure of how to tell your friends you’re under the impression you’re dating. “You just need to take it easy. You’ll be back to normal soon.”

.❅❅❅.

You catch up on the group texts you missed after your fall when you settle in Zach’s car. You’re reading the last message, which is Esha saying something about seeing you soon when Zach turns on the engine.

You can’t quite make out the words. Then you realize Zach’s been trying to talk to you.

“What?” you say.

“You shouldn’t look at a screen,” he says gently.

“Right.” You lower your phone. “I can barely read right now anyway.”

“Can you put your seatbelt on?”

“Yes.” You turn, the motion suddenly making you dizzy. Your eyes pinch shut and you hold your head with a pained sigh.

Zach has never been more upset at himself. He’s supposed to be taking care of you. The doctor called you fragile. He’s already messing up.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just relax, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

He leans over, pulling your seatbelt into the buckle. You keep your eyes shut, feeling his forehead brush against your cheek, enjoying the warm, rich fragrance that’s so Zach.

You might not remember everything, but you remember how much you love the way he smells.

“Thanks, baby,” you murmur and plant a kiss on his temple.

Zach’s stomach goes wild with butterflies. Heavy guilt sets in again. He can’t go on like this. It feels wrong to play along.

He pulls back and you look at him past heavy lids.

“We should talk,” he says, “about our friendship.”

He has no idea how to navigate this conversation. The doctor said to correct you calmly. There’s nothing calm about the way his heart is pounding right now.

“We haven’t told them, have we?” you ask. “I can’t remember ever acting like a couple around them. Is that what you mean?”

You think he’s talking about your friendships with the group waiting at the cabin.

This might be the best way to do this.

He’ll let you believe that you’re keeping your relationship under wraps. He’ll avoid any opportunity to be alone with you until your mind is straight again. And eventually, it’ll come to you that you and him aren’t actually together.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We have to act like we’re just friends in front of them.”

“Why’d we decide to do that again?” you ask.

Zach nervously taps his knee.

“Malek had a really bad breakup,” he explains. “We didn’t want to rub it in his face.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. The memory comes to you, choppy but clear enough. “Dumped via text. Poor guy.”

He flashes a relieved smile. It’s reassuring that you remember something that happened a week ago.

“Right,” he says. He puts the car in drive. The sooner he gets to the cabin, the sooner he can stop putting on this act. “We should get going.”

.❅❅❅.

Your friends are quiet and reluctant to come too close when you step into the cabin.

“Guys, I’m fine,” you laugh.

“How are you feeling?” Maggie asks, wide-eyed. “Do you remember me?”

“Of course,” you say. “It’s just a headache now.”

“You should sit down,” Zach urges behind you. He puts down the bags he brought in from the car that he refused to let you carry.

“It feels like I’ve been sitting all day,” you say. “Except for the part when I fell.”

“So, we can joke about it?” Chase asks with a grin.

“No,” Zach says. “Too soon.”

You look at him over your shoulder, chuckling.

“I think Zach’s more traumatized than I am,” you say.

“What happened exactly?” Esha asks, waving you in.

You step further into the cabin, struck by the enormous living room windows. They present a stunning view of snowy hills and picturesque cottages under the setting sun.

If it weren’t for the stubborn ache pulsing in your forehead, you’d want to explore more of the cabin. But Zach’s right. You should sit down. That walk from the car was enough exercise. You’re already dizzy again.

“It’s my fault,” Zach replies. “I stopped at some random store and that’s where she fell.”

You meet his eyes, heart breaking at the pained expression on his face. You wish you weren’t putting on a farce right now, because if you could do what you wanted, you’d pull him into a hug.

“It’s not your fault I don’t know how to walk,” you joke.

“You fell in the store?” Chase asks.

“Parking lot,” you say. “To get my wallet. Even though Zach said I didn’t need to. So, technically, it’s on me.”

You can tell by the look on his face that he’s not convinced. He’s blaming himself for this entirely.

You sit down for dinner, downing the water Zach encouraged you to drink, while he catches everyone up on how to help support your healing process.

“How do you know all this?” Maggie asks. “Concussions from playing soccer?”

“I asked the doctor,” he clarifies.

When you’re sure nobody’s looking, you reassuringly squeeze his knee under the table. He tenses up under your touch.

.❅❅❅.

After dinner, you’re bundled up in a blanket on the plush living room couch as flames crackle in the stone fireplace.

Nobody has allowed you to lift a finger. Every chore, down to putting away your dinner plate, has been taken over by one of your friends encouraging you to rest.

Zach’s on the other end of the sectional, tapping his fingers against the armrest. You remember that it’s something he does when he’s nervous. Why is he nervous? And why does he have to be so far away? You’re pretending to be just friends, but simply sitting next to you wouldn’t be suspicious, would it?

You know you’re not yourself. Your thoughts are muddy and patchy, but you’re already feeling much better than you did at the hospital because another memory suddenly blooms in your mind.

“Hot cocoa,” you say. Five heads turn to look at you as you point at Zach. “I owe you hot cocoa for staying back to drive me.”

“Yeah,” Zach says, his dimpled grin making your heart skip. “Your memories are coming back.”

You nod with a bright smile. At this moment, as he gazes at you from across the room, he realizes just how much he worries about you, he thinks of the kiss you left on his skin, and he accepts that he was wrong.

He’s not falling for you – he’s already in deep, completely enamored with no hope of pulling himself out.

.❅❅❅.

After you brush your teeth, you pad downstairs to the kitchen before you head to sleep in the bedroom you’re sharing with the girls.

You’re walking back through the dimly lit house when you hear the floorboards creak under someone’s weight. Zach rounds the corner at the bottom of the staircase.

“Hi,” you say sweetly. He towers over you and your eyes drift down to the red and black flannel he’s wearing. “The famous grandpa pj’s.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, happy you remember yet another thing.

His chest twists, conflicted because he enjoys the familiar comfort of being alone with you, but is also anxious in case you still have the wrong idea about the nature of your relationship.

“Proud of me for hydrating?” you ask, holding up the cup of water you just got for yourself.

“Very proud.” He walks past you. “Sleep well.”

You’re confused. It’s unlike him. You remember enough to know he’s typically kind and talkative.

“Hey,” you say, turning to look at him. He meets your gaze, lips slightly parted, visibly tense. “What’s wrong? You don’t really blame yourself, do you? I’m fine.”

His lips curl into a frown. He’s not convinced.

“Please don’t worry,” you continue softly, stepping towards him. “You’ve been taking such good care of me. You’re the best friend a concussed girl could have.”

Friend. Does that mean you no longer think he’s your boyfriend? Have you forgotten about the whole thing entirely?

Before he can ask to be sure, he realizes you were being playful with the word, because you quickly look over your shoulder, then unexpectedly pop up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips.

“I made sure nobody saw,” you say in an amused whisper. “Good night.”

You rush upstairs, an electric current zipping through you even though you’ve kissed him a million times before.

Zach is standing still in the hallway, heart hammering, blood running hot. He’s lost count of how many times he daydreamed about kissing you. Now, he felt your lips against his for real, and his mind and body are a jumbled mess.

There’s a chance you like him back and now feel uninhibited to offer him the affection you’ve always wanted to give him. Or you’re just confused and you’ll be horrified to learn that he let you believe you’re dating when you were dazed and vulnerable.

If your memory isn’t solid by tomorrow, he’ll have to correct it himself. And he can only hope he won’t ruin your friendship in the process.

››› saturday

You’re walking towards the kitchen, the taste of toothpaste fresh on your tongue. You’re glad you woke up with a much clearer mind. You remember more of yesterday; it’s almost a complete picture in your head.

Zach and Malek are sitting at the breakfast table, cradling mugs of coffee. Zach’s eyes dart away from yours the moment he sees you. It makes your heart sink.

“Hi,” you say to them.

“Morning,” Malek replies.

“Feeling better?” Zach asks.

“Headache’s gone,” you answer. He nods, but doesn’t look at you again.

He’s been acting weird and you’re not sure if it’s just guilt over your fall. The memory of you lying in bed with him a few days ago is so clear. What happened between then and yesterday?

You must have had a fight that you’re forgetting about. You’re sure Zach would be selfless enough to pretend that you’re on good terms while you’re concussed, but he can’t hide that he’s on edge.

“Bad sleep?” you ask, looking down at his drink. “You only drink coffee when you’re desperate.”

His eyes finally find yours again, softening when they do. It’s the early morning and he’s wearing sweats and a hoodie and his dark honey hair is a tousled mess, yet he still looks so handsome and it feels unfair to not be able to kiss him.

“You remember that, too,” he says with relief. “Anything else come up?”

“Nothing that feels important,” you admit with a shrug. Disappointment flashes over his features and you chew on your lip in saddened confusion.

Zach hates seeing the hurt on your face. He needs to have this conversation now and get it over with.

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” he asks.

“That sounds nice,” you answer.

“You’re insane,” Malek says. “It’s like the North Pole out there.”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh. “It makes you appreciate being inside even more.”

.❅❅❅.

You stand side-by-side on the snow-covered balcony leading out to the back of the cabin, bundled up in your coats, hats, and mittens.

“It’s so pretty out here,” you whisper, gazing out at the frozen lake hugged by patches of trees.

“It is,” Zach says. His breath comes out in a small puff of fog as he ruminates over how to tell you what he needs to tell you.

“All that ice,” you mumble, “and so many different ways to fall on it.”

He cracks a smile.

“Still too soon to joke about it,” he says.

“Even I don’t get a free pass?” you chuckle.

You reach for his hand, feeling his warmth through your mittens. Zach clears his throat and pulls out of your grasp.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” he begins. His cheeks redden. “And please hear me out. I was doing what I thought was–”

The sound of the door sliding open interrupts him. You both look back to see Malek ambling out onto the balcony with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“Maybe you guys are onto something,” he says. “We didn’t come all the way out here not to appreciate the views, right?”

He stands between you two and despite the tension, you and Zach share a smile, knowingly both irritated yet amused at your friend’s clueless intrusion.

.❅❅❅.

When you head back inside, everyone else has woken up, loudly chattering in the kitchen. You’re pulled into a conversation with Esha and Maggie while Chase asks Zach to help him with starting the fire.

It’s hard to absorb the words your friends are saying after the way you and Zach left things a few minutes ago.

“Can someone turn on some music?” Maggie eventually asks. “I left my phone upstairs.”

“Sure,” you offer.

“No screens!” Esha shouts.

“It’ll just be for a second,” you laugh. You connect to the speaker. When you realize you have an unfamiliar playlist open, you curiously scroll through the songs.

Zach comes back into the kitchen, dusting off his hands.

You tap on the first track in the playlist. A slow, gentle song buzzes from the living room.

Then, it hits you like a wave.

This song played in his car on the way here. You dozed off listening to it. You woke up from a dream.

A dream.

Zach isn’t your boyfriend. He never was.

The puzzle pieces have finally snapped together, and the picture isn’t pretty.

You stare at him, the realization harsh and unsettling. The possibility of a fight you forgot about had run through your head, but the fact that you were never even together is startling.

Zach can see it immediately, the discomfort on your face. He thought he wanted you to figure it out on your own. Now that you have, he regrets not telling you the truth right away.

“Uh, my… phone is about to die,” you stammer, stopping the song. “Be right back.”

You leave the room, and while everyone else carries on conversation, Zach’s heart is in his stomach. He messed up. Possibly irreversibly.

He trails behind you, whispering your name as you rush up the stairs. You turn to face him once you reach your bedroom, nearly breathless.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, the embarrassment wringing out your insides.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Can you sit down? You need to take it easy.”

“Zach,” you assert. He sighs in worry.

“I was about to tell you outside, but then we got interrupted.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me right away?” you say. “I… oh, my God. I kissed you last night.”

Zach rakes his hand through his hair as you step back and exhale in disbelief.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t stress you out,” he explains. “I didn’t want to confuse you or embarrass you–”

“Too late,” you interrupt with a note of sadness.

It’s a punch to Zach’s gut seeing you so upset because of something he did. He’d actually prefer a real punch right now. At least then, he’d know the pain will fade. The guilt filling his chest feels like it’ll be there forever.

“I – I was doing what I thought was best,” he says. “She said you were fragile and it freaked me out and I promise, the last thing I want to do is upset you or mess with your healing.”

You can see that he’s in distress, but so are you. You spilled your heart out to him, you touched and kissed him while under the impression that you shared a love that wasn’t there.

“Please don’t think I’m a creep or something – I just – I honestly didn’t expect that kiss,” he admits. “I would’ve stopped it if I did.”

You have to look away. Why would he have stopped it? Because you weren’t in your right mind? Or because he wouldn’t ever want you to kiss him?

You hope he has it in him to at least admit if he feels anything for you. This is the time to do it after you embarrassed yourself so immensely. You stare down at the floor, silently praying that he’ll reassure you.

Zach’s throat tightens. Seeing you like this makes his shame so overpowering that his eyes start to burn with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. He steps out of the room before you can see him cry. He doesn’t want to make this about him. He wants to give you space.

You’re left standing alone in the silence, your heart cracked right down the middle.

.❅❅❅.

Zach doesn’t let his gaze linger on you for the rest of the day. He’s terrified he’ll have to face his fear of losing you.

What’ll life look like without you? You met and then all of a sudden, you became a ray of light in his world, always able to make him smile, always on his mind. He can’t stomach making you uncomfortable. You looked so disgusted that he went along with a lie.

After dinner, you’re all sitting in the living room and helping Maggie set up a board game. That’s when Zach finally allows himself to look at you.

You’re sitting in front of the fireplace, quietly reading the instructions to yourself, lips moving with the words. Worrisome curiosity gnaws at him, eager to find out if your mind is clear again.

“Does reading still feel weird or is it okay now?” he asks you from across the room.

“Oh – yeah,” you say, caught off guard. You haven’t spoken since your fight this morning. “It’s okay now.”

“Where have you been, MacLaren?” Maggie laughs. “We established she’s back to normal like three hours ago.”

“Do we need to check your head?” Chase jokes.

Zach forces a laugh. He’s been too lost in his thoughts to absorb himself in the conversations happening around him all day. The possibility of making you uncomfortable simply by being in the same room as you is too heavy to ignore at this point.

“Maybe,” he says. “I should probably turn in.”

“What?” Malek shouts. “I was going to kick your ass at… what’s this game called again?”

“You can kick my ass later,” Zach mumbles, standing up. “Sorry, guys.”

“Lame,” Maggie sighs.

You keep your gaze on him as he leaves the room, but his eyes stay on the floor the entire time.

.❅❅❅.

You gently knock on the boys’ bedroom door, listening to your friends’ enthusiastic competition-fuelled conversations echoing from downstairs.

It’s been fifteen minutes since you started the board game and two since you purposely knocked yourself out of it. You excused yourself to take a shower, but your intention was always to come up and talk to Zach. Even though you’d left things so tense, you need to make sure of one thing.

“Yeah?” His voice on the other side of the door is muffled. You step into the dark room, the hallway light spilling in.

“It’s me,” you whisper into the dimness. “Sorry. You’re not sleeping, are you?”

“No. I can’t,” he admits. You hear a mattress creak. A light turns on with a click. Zach’s standing by a lamp, almost looking wounded.

You step inside, shutting the door behind you, nervous as you settle on the edge of one of the beds. He sits on another bed and faces you.

“I don’t think you’re a creep,” you say. “I just had to make sure you know that, okay?”

Zach lets out a shaky sigh. He purses his lips, nodding slowly, and when you see a shine pool over his eyes, you still.

“Thanks,” he breathes. “I hated the idea of you thinking I took advantage of you or something and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be around me if you–”

“What? Zach, no. No way.”

When he quietly sniffles, you’re certain he’s holding back tears. You knew he was sensitive, but witnessing him cry over the possibility of making you uncomfortable stings. Especially since he surely felt awkward with you touching him and kissing him, and still played along for you.

He doesn’t deserve to feel like this. You shuffle over, sitting next to him on his bed.

“Listen, I was just really embarrassed,” you say, desperate to console him. “I still am, to be honest.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to be. You were injured.”

“Yeah, but… how would you feel if you ran around kissing me just for me to tell you I never wanted you to?”

Zach’s jaw tenses. Is that what you think? That he doesn't want to kiss you? God, he’d spend all day kissing you if you let him.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” you continue, “and I get why you went along with it. I know you were just looking out for me. Sorry that I got so upset.”

“Please don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

“We’ll never agree on this,” you say with a quiet laugh. “We’re good, okay? I’m gonna go take a shower and if you’re up for it, you should go downstairs. I’ll come down after and make you that cocoa I promised.”

Zach laughs, genuine and warm, and it makes your heart feel like it’s floating.

“Cool,” he says.

“Cool,” you echo. You stand up, almost out the door when he stops you.

“Hey, can you…”

“What?” you ask.

“Just… be careful in the shower. Don’t slip.”

“I’ll be fine. Jeez, you fall on your head one time,” you quip. He laughs. And his smile doesn’t fade for a while after you leave the room.

.❅❅❅.

You’ve just washed the soap off your skin and are about to turn the water off when you’re plunged into darkness. Standing in the tub, naked, completely blind.

For a moment, you’re afraid this is a symptom of your concussion. But then you realize the power must have gone out. You feel for the tile wall, pushing the shower curtain to the side, more nervous to fall than you’d normally be.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Zach asks through the door. He’s nearly breathless. As soon as the lights went out, he raced up the stairs in worry, using his phone flashlight as a guide.

“Yeah,” you call. “Did the power go out?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Do you need any help or anything? I can get Esha or Maggie.”

You smile to yourself in the dark, not surprised that he’s being so considerate of your comfort. You feel for the robe you left on the counter and wrap yourself in its warmth, then open the door.

Zach’s standing in the hallway, phone flashlight aimed at the floor, concern etched into his face.

“Do we know what happened?” you ask.

Seeing you fresh out the shower feels oddly vulnerable. This is an intimate state for him to witness you in, but you’re not nervous at all, and it’s reassuring to have the hard proof that you’re not uncomfortable around him.

“I think it’s the wind,” he says. “It must have knocked a power line down.”

“Uh oh,” you reply in same way you did when Chase texted about the furnace breaking. He chuckles. At least he can find comfort in the fact that you really do remember everything.

“I’ll get dressed and meet you down there,” you say. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course.”

The lights are still out when you come downstairs in your pajamas. Your friends are huddled around the fire, amber lights and gray shadows casting over their faces and on the walls. The crescent moon gleams in the cloudy sky past the massive windows.

“Were you at least at the end of your shower?” Esha asks with a defeated laugh.

“Yeah,” you say. “I was just about to get out when the room went dark. I was scared my concussion came back.”

“That’d be great timing,” Esha jokes.

“Right? While I’m naked in a tub,” you laugh, settling on the floor next to her. Zach is glad nobody’s looking at him right now, because his cheeks are burning at the mention of you being naked. “Did anyone message the owner?”

“Yeah,” Maggie says. “He’s not answering, but I don’t know what he could even do. I checked online and the whole grid is out. I think we’ll just have to wait it out.”

“Chase cursed us,” Esha says.

“How is this my fault?” he asks.

“You tempted fate with your stupid joke yesterday,” she replies. “The furnace broke. Now everything is broken. Are you happy?”

“Honestly, thrilled,” he replies. “Pretty cool to have the power to control the weather.”

You continue to chat with your friends, feeling the temperature in the cabin slowly fall. Before you know it, it’s been half an hour and the power still isn’t back on. You’re shaking from the cold.

Zach notices the way you’re curled up, arms wrapped around your legs, surely colder than everyone else since you just showered.

“We should keep the fire going,” he says. “I don’t think the power will come back on any time soon.”

“What happened to the annoying optimism we’ve grown to know and love?” Maggie asks.

“I told you guys, I traumatized him when I fell yesterday,” you say. “I broke my brain and his.”

“No offense, but I probably would’ve laughed my ass off if I saw you fall like that,” Chase jokes.

“That’s why I’m glad I was with Zach,” you retort. He smirks to himself as he builds the fire, hoping it’ll radiate more heat for you soon. “I bet when my memory was messed up, you would’ve convinced me that I owed you money or something.”

“Shit,” Chase says. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Shameless,” Esha mutters. “Guys, I think we’re going to have to sleep here in front of the fire. I bet the bedrooms are freezing.”

“Aw, it’ll be like a real sleepover,” Maggie says excitedly. “Let’s do it.”

You’re all in a fit of laughter as you bring mattresses and pillows and blankets down the stairs, already sure that this is going to be a cherished memory. What happened yesterday has given you a new perspective on life, a realization that something as simple as your memory should be appreciated.

And it’s also made your crush on Zach even deeper. He’s done nothing but look out for you, down to pretending to be your boyfriend to ease you into your healing. Now that the embarrassment has faded, you feel guilty that you were ever upset at him.

The six of you lie in front of the crackling fire, wrapped up in duvets as the wind howls outside. You’re closest to Zach, your back inches away from his chest. As you gaze at the flames, you think about the way his lips felt on yours last night.

No wonder you felt so stunned after kissing him. Your mind didn’t know it was your first kiss, but your body did. The thought that it was also your last kiss makes your stomach sink. He’s had every opportunity to tell you if he likes you. He hasn’t. You’re just a friend to him and nothing more.

“Who wants to bet on when the power’s going to be back on?” Malek asks. You hear the click of him unlocking his phone. “It’s 11:30 now. I don’t…”

He suddenly stops talking.

“Did he die? I’m too tired to turn around and check,” Esha says.

“My ex texted me,” Malek says.

“Don’t fall into the trap, man,” Chase says. “What’s done is done.”

“What’s it say?” Zach asks. He stares at you as you lie in front of him, backlit by the fire.

“She’s apologizing,” Malek says. “She wants to get back together.”

“No,” Maggie says sternly. “She dumped you over text, dude.”

You listen to your friends chat, your eyelids growing heavy. Admittedly, you’re worried you’ll dream of Zach again. Having his heart in a delusion just to wake up and realize it’s not really yours hurts too much.

You shuffle your feet to get comfortable, accidentally bumping Zach.

“Sorry,” you whisper over your shoulder. “Was that your kicking foot?”

“Yeah,” Zach replies. “You just blew my entire season.”

You giggle quietly, tightening your blanket around you. You wish you could hold on to a shred of hope that eventually, your feelings for him will fade. The sinking feeling in your gut tells you that’ll never happen.

.❅❅❅.

A harsh droning pulls you out of your sleep. Your eyes squeeze shut, then flicker open when you realize someone is snoring. Loudly.

“Who is that?” Esha whispers into the pitch dark. The fire must have died down.

“Malek,” Chase mutters. “He sounds like a fucking dragon.”

“Malek,” Esha whines. His snoring suddenly stops and you figure she must have kicked him awake.

You chuckle to yourself, gently shuffling in place. That’s when you realize you’re up against a warm, firm surface, your nose brushing against the comforting fragrance you love so much.

You’re cuddled up to Zach. You pull back an inch, your entire body tense.

“How’d I get here?” you try to joke in a whisper. “Sorry.”

“Stay,” he mumbles sleepily. He pulls you in by your hip, squeezing gently in his daze. Your heart thrums and you obey, giving into what you want most.

››› sunday

You can feel the brightness of the sun behind your eyelids. The air isn’t cold. The furnace is buzzing. The power is back on.

You gain your bearings and slowly sit up. Everyone else is still asleep. You smile in admiration as you look at your sleeping friends. You love them all so much. You turn to see Zach, his lips in a cute pout, and you accept the fact that you love him, too, in a deeper way.

Friends. You’re friends. You’ll keep telling yourself that until your heart believes it.

You quietly make your way to the kitchen, determined to cook a big breakfast for everyone. Five minutes pass before Maggie walks in with a tired smile, commenting that something smells good.

“Sit down,” you invite her. “Coffee? Tea? I’m making a thank-you breakfast.”

“What for?” she asks.

“You all took such good care of me,” you say.

“Yeah, because Zach basically threatened us to when you first got here,” she laughs. “I’ve never seen him so intense. Last night, when the power went out? He booked it upstairs to find you. He’s been so worried about you.”

“Yeah, I think he still feels responsible for me falling,” you say.

She sits up to look over the wall into the hallway to check that the coast is clear, then waves you closer. You turn off the range and sit next to her.

“I think it’s more than that,” she says.

“No,” you say with a small laugh. “No way.”

.❅❅❅.

Zach shuffles awake, exhaling deeply. He drags his hand over the blanket next to him, looking for you before he realizes that’s what he’s doing.

It felt so nice when you turned towards him in a half-asleep daze, nuzzling your head into his chest. It took him a while to fall asleep simply because of how hard his heart was drumming.

He steps over his sleeping friends. Then, he hears a hushed conversation getting louder as he heads down the hallway.

“...think so?” Maggie says.

“No,” you respond. “Okay, I wasn’t going to tell you and Esha until after we got back, but… I was so out of it at the hospital that I thought he was my boyfriend and… he actually went along with it.”

“What?” she says.

You’re talking about him. He’s about to clear his throat to announce himself and pretend like he hasn’t heard anything, but then he hears your next words.

“I know he didn’t want me acting like that with him, but he tolerated it just so I wouldn’t get freaked out when I realized my memory was messed up,” you confess. “He was so awkward about it after. Trust me. He does not like me back.”

Zach slowly steps back towards the living room and goes up the stairs, trying to absorb what he just heard, trying to make sense of the fact that you not only truly think that he doesn’t want your affection, but also that you’re genuinely disappointed about it.

Back. You don’t think he likes you back.

This might just be the happiest he’s ever felt.

.❅❅❅.

You love how pleased your friends look at the breakfast spread you’ve made for them as they trickle into the kitchen.

“It’s a good thing it was so cold overnight,” you announce. “Nothing in the fridge went bad.”

Zach is the last one to come in and your heart, the traitor, skitters when you meet his striking blue eyes. How long until you can look into those eyes and not think about how it feels to be held by him, how it feels to kiss him?

“Sleep well?” you ask to make casual conversation. He settles in the last empty chair at the table.

“Yeah. My old man pajamas are really toasty,” he says.

You nod, skin buzzing. Does he remember cuddling you in the middle of the night? By the way his eyes linger on you, you think he just might, and in this simple, small moment, you feel a pinch of hope that he feels the same way you do.

You glance up at the clock hanging above the table to see it’s just past nine, leaving less than two hours before check-out. You try to enjoy the last little bit you have with your friends before you split up to clean and leave the cabin the way you found it.

.❅❅❅.

The cabin is spotless, the cars are packed up, and you’re hugging your friends goodbye as light snowflakes gently fall from the white sky.

You’ve been giddy with anticipation at the thought of having an hour and a half drive back to campus with Zach, even though he left such a confusing knot in your chest. Despite everything, he’s still a friend you love to spend time with.

“Have a nice drive!” Chase says as he heads towards Esha’s car, raising his brows at Zach.

After breakfast, Chase had asked him to join you two on the ride home to have more space than he would have sharing a backseat with Malek, but Zach apologized and told him he’d rather not.

When Chase insisted he tell him why, Zach didn’t see any reason to keep it in any longer. He admitted to liking you and said he’d finally tell you on the way home.

“Bold,” Chase had said. “And if she doesn’t like you, too? That’ll be like, the most awkward car ride ever.”

“I’ll take the risk,” Zach replied with a smile.

.❅❅❅.

“Wow,” you say as you drive out onto the main road. “I never made you that hot cocoa, did I?”

“You didn’t,” he says, pretending to be deeply displeased.

“Will you ever forgive me?” you play along.

“I’ll need to do some reflecting first,” Zach replies. You laugh, relieved that you two are joking like old times before this past weekend through you for a loop.

“Fair,” you say. You plug your phone into his speaker system. “Let’s see if I can unlock any other memories. And don’t tell me it’s still too soon to joke about it.”

Zach chuckles, cocking his head.

“I’ll let it slide,” he says. “I woke up in a good mood.”

“You’re basically always in a good mood,” you respond.

Zach can understand why you’d think that. It’s because he’s never been in a bad mood around you. Life is bright and easy and rich when you’re around. And it’s been even richer since he overheard what you said this morning.

“We passed a waterfall while you slept on the way up here,” Zach says. “Would you want to make a stop to check out the view?”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing away the reminder of what you’d dreamt about during that nap. “Sounds cool.”

.❅❅❅.

Crystal blue water rushes down in an endless torrent, crashing down to the surface with a dull roar. You’re in awe of how ethereal the waterfall is, white mist bubbling over the stream bordered by snowy land. The snow is still falling gently, the atmosphere cool but not cold, as if the earth is apologizing for the windstorm last night.

You and Zach stand at a height behind a railing, his car parked a few feet away on the side of the road. He purposely slowed down so your friends would drive far enough ahead to not notice you’d made a stop.

Now that he’s here, he’s painfully nervous. Worst case scenario, you’re not interested in dating him, and it’ll lead to, like Chase said, the most awkward car ride ever. He’s sure the remaining hour journey back to campus would feel like ten hours if this goes wrong.

But he’s always been optimistic and last night as he fell asleep with you in his arms, he thought back to every moment in your friendship when he had a spark of hope that he had a place in your heart like you do in his.

Over the months he’s known you, he got into the habit of trying to dull the spark, reminding himself of how much he had to lose if you didn’t return his feelings.

Deep down, he always knew he’d eventually give in; he has so much love to give you and the thought of keeping it contained when you might want it was getting harder to bear.

You could break his heart if you don’t want him, but it’d break his heart even more if you do and he doesn’t do anything about it.

“Wow,” you say in a whisper, taking a photo of the waterfall with your phone. “I shouldn’t post this, should I? Our friends might be mad that we didn't include them.”

“I think they’ll understand,” Zach replies. “I told Chase… uh…”

You lower your phone, looking up at him, unable to stifle your smirk because of how cute he looks from the way the breeze has messed up his hair. The road behind you is clear and quiet, the mid-morning sun offering mild warmth.

“You told Chase…?” you say.

Zach licks his lips, his mouth gently opening before he finds the words. He shifts to face you, eyes searching your pretty features, heart in his throat.

“I told him I wanted to be alone with you,” he says. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop this morning, I swear… but I… I do like you. Back.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You look down at the snowy concrete, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“I heard you right… right?” Zach mumbles.

“Back,” you repeat softly, finding the bravery to look back up at him. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

A sweet, honeyed smile grows on his face. He tilts his head slightly, looking at you the exact way you’d dreamt he would. How you always wanted him to, but convinced yourself he wouldn’t.

“I didn’t tolerate you acting like we were dating,” he says. “I liked it and I felt bad for liking it because it wasn’t real.”

You mirror his smile, your heart full of love and joy and the comfort that he’s been giving you since the day you met him.

“I was just doing what I always wanted to do,” you confess. His eyes glint with endearment as he brings a hand up to gently cup your face.

“I really enjoyed being your pretend boyfriend,” Zach says, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as you look up at him through your lashes. “Can I be your real one now, though?”

You sigh softly, nodding as he stares at you in nothing short of infatuation. He leans closer by a half-inch, silently testing if you’re okay with it.

You close the distance and your lips meet with a sweet, gentle tenderness like they’ve done this before. You pull back, remembering that they have.

“Can we count that as our first kiss?” you say.

“Absolutely,” he chuckles.

››› one week later

You’re stepping out of the kitchen in Zach’s apartment, tightly gripping the tray of six mugs filled with hot cocoa.

“Whoa,” Zach says, quickly standing up from his spot on the floor when you enter the living room. “Careful.”

“Her concussion is gone, man,” Chase says. “You have the test results to prove it. She can handle carrying a tray.”

“He’s helping her because he’s a gentleman,” Esha states. “Do you know what that word means or are you committed to being a caveman forever?”

“Caveman,” he repeats with a grin.

“Don’t give him any,” Esha mutters. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

You laugh as you set the tray down on the coffee table with Zach’s help. You settle in your spot on the couch as Zach sits on the floor in front of you again, tucked in between your legs, the insides of your knees pressed against his shoulders.

“I have to say, I called it,” Maggie says as she gazes between you and Zach with a big smile on her face. “Tell everyone how I called it.”

“You called it,” you say, putting your hands on your boyfriend’s broad shoulders, gently squeezing.

Her eyes dart to Esha and you share a knowing grin. You’d had private conversations about how if you and Zach were always a little obvious, Esha and Chase are the definition of the word.

“Ow,” Malek snips, holding the steaming mug away from his face. “I burned myself.”

“It’s hot cocoa, Malek,” Chase says. “It’s literally in the name.”

“Really good, though,” Malek says, giving you a thumbs up.

“Thanks,” you laugh.

The tray is eventually littered with empty mugs and you stand to clear away the mess, your heart glowing with the feeling it always has when you’re surrounded by your friends.

You’re scrubbing a soapy sponge over a mug when you hear Zach’s voice behind you.

“You don’t have to wash anything.”

You look over your shoulder, smiling.

“It’s okay,” you say. He approaches you, hugging you from behind as you stand at the sink, surrounding you in his warmth as your friends talk a room away.

He always enjoyed moments of privacy with you, but since that day by the waterfall, every second with you is more than perfect.

“So?” you say. “Did you get your wish? Was the cocoa life-changing?”

“Ask me again what you asked on the way up to the cabin,” he murmurs. “What I want most in the world.”

“What do you want most–”

“You,” he interrupts. You laugh breathily as he kisses the side of your neck. “I just couldn’t answer honestly the first time you asked. But it was always you.”

You turn the faucet off and tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on your face as he leaves kisses on your neck and holds you tighter.

It was always him, too.

(the end)

[eu-nicola]

best secret

summary: while the Pogues are searching for the gold, you're left behind, trapped with your abusive father. when Rafe discovers what's going on, he steps in to save you. when the Pogues return and discover your relationship with Rafe, tensions boil over

warnings: violence, confrontation

word counter: 4384

author's note: english is not my first language

this is a request from @tracymbcm

The lights of Tannyhill shone brightly in the distance, like a beacon illuminating everything perfectly.

You were in the backyard of Tannyhill, sitting on a stone table that probably cost more than your entire house. The night was warm, but you still felt a slight chill running through your skin. It could be from the air or from the presence of Rafe Cameron, leaning against a column, looking at you with that smile that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to admit.

“If JJ knew about this, he would kill me.” Your voice broke the silence, a mix of nerves and sincerity in your words.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smile widening, but his eyes never left yours.

“If JJ knew about this, he would have been dead for months.” His tone was light, as if he said it in jest, but you knew that look. He wasn’t joking.

You should have laughed, maybe even responded with a scathing comment, but the truth was that the idea of ​​JJ finding out what you were doing terrified you. How could you explain to him that after years of swearing that you hated Rafe Cameron as much as he did, you had ended up here, seeing him in secret?

“Why are you doing this, Rafe?” you asked, abruptly changing the subject. You had thought about that question many times, but you had never dared say it out loud.

Rafe stopped smiling, slowly pushing himself off the column as he made his way towards you. Each step he took seemed to charge the air around you. When he reached your side, he leaned in slightly, just enough for his intense, direct blue eyes to catch yours.

“Because with you I don’t have to pretend.”

The words hit something deep inside you, leaving a crack in your carefully constructed defenses. You looked at him, searching for any trace of lying or manipulation, but all you found was honesty, raw and unvarnished.

“That doesn’t make it any less complicated.” You tried to make your voice sound firm, but there was a slight tremor that betrayed everything.

He tilted his head, his expression softening a little.

“And that’s why you’re still here? Despite everything.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because the truth was, no matter how hard you tried to get away, you always ended up coming back. Something about Rafe dragged you along, like a current you couldn’t avoid.

He moved closer, his hand finding your waist with an ease that made you catch your breath.

“Look at me.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but charged with intensity.

You obeyed, even though every part of you screamed not to. His eyes seemed to pierce through you, seeing parts of you no one else had noticed.

“Do you know what happens to me when you’re not around?” he asked, his tone so serious that you felt a lump forming in your throat. “It’s like everything is… empty again. You make it all make sense.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly the space between you felt nonexistent.

“Rafe…” you started, but he cut you off, shaking his head as his forehead brushed yours.

“Don’t say you don’t feel it too.”

And you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because you did. You had felt it from the first moment his lips touched yours weeks ago, from the instant he looked at you as if you were more than just a Pogue.

This time, you were the one who closed the distance. The kiss started slow, as if you were both afraid of breaking something fragile, but soon it became more urgent, more desperate. Your hands found his neck as he pulled you closer, as if he feared you might disappear at any moment.

In that instant, everything disappeared: the Pogues, JJ, the Kooks, the consequences you knew would fall upon you. Nothing else mattered. Just Rafe and you.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. Rafe leaned against your forehead, his hands still firm on your waist.

“Regretful?” he asked with that lopsided smile that always disarmed you.

“Not yet.” Your voice was more confident than you expected, though deep down you knew that answer could change.

Rafe let out a soft laugh, running a finger through a loose strand of your hair.

“You’re braver than you think, Pogue.”

“And you’re more of an idiot than you let on.”

Rafe was still so close that you could feel the heat of his body as he pulled away slightly, his fingers still absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. His smile grew softer, less teasing, and for a moment it seemed like there was something else on his mind.

“I have an idea,” he said suddenly, his voice low, as if he was afraid to break the moment.

“What kind of idea?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe stepped back, crossing his arms as he looked at you with a mix of expectation and excitement.

Rafe stepped back, crossing his arms as he looked at you with a mix of anticipation and excitement.

“Tomorrow. You and me. A real date.”

That took you by surprise. Even though you’d been seeing each other on the sly for weeks, the thought of something as formal as a date hadn’t crossed your mind. Was it even possible? Your lips curved into a small smile.

“And how do you propose we do that without JJ or the guys deciding to kill you?”

Rafe shrugged, his expression confident as ever.

“You’re running away. You’ve done it before.”

“Rafe…” you started, even though you already knew you’d end up agreeing.

“Trust me. It’ll be perfect.” His eyes were shining, as if he was already imagining what it would be like. He took another step towards you and placed his hands on your hips, leaning in just enough so that his lips were just a few inches from yours. “Just you and me. No one else.”

You sighed, as if you were considering your options, but in reality your decision was made from the moment you looked into his eyes.

“Okay,” you finally relented, your voice laced with a mix of excitement and resignation.

Rafe’s smile widened.

“Meet me at Figure Eight Harbor, just before sunset. Bring something comfortable.”

“Any other directions, Mr. Cameron?” you asked, arching an eyebrow in a sarcastic tone.

Rafe leaned in and gave you a quick kiss, barely a brush, before pulling away.

“Just don’t be late.”

You watched him walk away toward the house, his steps confident and relaxed. When he turned around for the last time, he gave you a look and a smile that made your stomach turn.

That night, as you made your way back to your house, you couldn’t help but imagine what the date would be like. With Rafe, nothing was ever easy, but there was something about the way he looked at you, how he seemed to want to show you a different world, that made it worth the risk.

The next morning the morning sun streamed through the windows of your room, bathing the walls in a warmth that would normally have comforted you. But this time, you were too excited to pay attention to the small details. Today was the day. A date with Rafe Cameron.

You had woken up early, your heart racing and a smile that seemed impossible to erase. The pogues were away, completely absorbed in their quest for gold. With them gone, sneaking off to meet up with Rafe seemed easier than ever. Without JJ hovering like a hawk and Sarah suspecting a thing, you could finally relax and enjoy some alone time with him without the constant fear of being discovered.

You spent the day getting everything ready. You picked out comfortable clothes, like Rafe had suggested, but also something you knew he would appreciate: a light, simple dress that fell softly over your legs and sandals that would allow you to move around without any problems. You had tied your hair up in a carefree way, leaving a few strands loose to frame your face. You didn’t want to look overdressed, but you also couldn’t help but want to impress him. 

By the time it was time to leave, the plan seemed perfect. You just had to avoid your father, something you usually managed with ease when he was deep in his own problems. With the guys gone and his attention divided between the television and the empty beers piling up on the table, there was no reason for this time to be any different. 

Or so you thought. 

As you walked down the stairs, holding a small bag in your hand, Luke’s raspy voice echoed from the living room. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” “I’m just going for a walk,” he asked, his bloodshot eyes fixed on you.

You froze on the spot, your fingers clenching your bag tightly. You knew you couldn’t tell him the truth, but you hadn’t prepared an excuse either.

“I’m just going for a walk,” you said, trying to sound casual as you avoided his gaze.

Luke stood up from the couch with a jerk, his body swaying slightly, and you realized immediately that he was drunk. Again.

“Going for a walk?” he repeated, his tone full of mockery. “You’re not as smart as you think, kid. Do you really think you can get away without me knowing?”

Your heart began to beat faster. You tried to stay calm, but you knew how these things ended.

“It’s no big deal, Dad. I’m just going for a walk, that’s all.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” His voice rose a pitch, and the thud of a bottle falling to the floor made you take a step back. His eyes narrowed as he looked you up and down. “Why are you all dressed up? Huh? Who are you going to see?”

“No one,” you lied quickly, but your voice shook, and that only seemed to make him angrier.

Luke took a step towards you, and the air in the room became heavy, suffocating.

“You’ve always been a liar, just like your mother.” His words were venom, and the contempt in his voice made you clench your fists at your sides. “What? You think you can just walk away and leave me here like I don’t exist?”

Fear began to creep its way into your chest, but you didn’t let it show on your face. You had learned to hide it well, to survive moments like this.

“I’m not leaving anyone, Dad. I just want to get out for a bit.”

“DON’T MOVE!” he suddenly shouted, slamming the table so hard that the noise echoed throughout the house.

Your body tensed, your feet rooted to the ground. You stared at the door for a moment, calculating if you could escape, but you knew he would reach you before you could even turn the knob.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled as he approached, his steps firm and heavy. “Always doing whatever you want, always thinking you’re better than me.”

Every word out of his mouth was like a blow, but the real blows began soon after. He threw a glass against the wall, just inches from where you stood, and the sound of glass breaking made you instinctively step back.

“Dad, stop.” Your voice was low, but firm, even though inside you were shaking.

“STOP?” He laughed bitterly. “Don’t tell me what to do. You’re nobody to give me orders!”

You felt a lump in your throat, helplessness mixing with the pain of knowing there was no way to reason with him in this state. All you wanted was to get out of that house, get to the port, and be with Rafe, away from all of this. But with every passing second, it seemed more impossible.

Finally, you took advantage of a moment when he was distracted looking for another bottle to try and move towards the door. But when Luke noticed, his face twisted into a mix of fury and contempt.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled as he blocked your way.

You were trapped. And as time continued to tick, you felt the chance to see Rafe slip through your fingers.

Away from you, as time passed, and there was no sign of you. Rafe first thought maybe you were late, but as the sun began to set completely, worry began to settle in his chest.

“Where are you?” he murmured, looking at his phone. He had texted twenty minutes ago, but you hadn’t responded. You hadn’t read the text either. 

Rafe knew something was wrong. Even though your relationship was a secret, you had never missed a date without notice, and the thought of something stopping you made him more uneasy than he was willing to admit. His jaw tightened as he climbed into his truck. No matter what the reason was, he was going to find you. 

He drove straight to your house, or as he silently called it, “Pougeland.” The Maybank home wasn’t in the best condition, and Rafe hated every second you spent there, especially because of Luke. He had heard enough about the man to know he wasn’t someone to be trusted, and the thought of you being alone with him infuriated him. 

As he approached the entrance, the sound of shouting from inside the house made his heart skip a beat. He didn’t need to confirm who they were; He recognized your voice, full of fear, and Luke's, in an angry and aggressive tone. He quickened his pace towards the door, and just as he was about to enter, he heard the sound of something breaking.

“Dad, stop!” Your voice came through clearly, desperate and scared.

That was enough for Rafe to act. He pushed the door open, the frame creaking from the force, and what he saw filled him with anger. Luke was on top of you, holding your arm as you tried to free yourself. Your face was marked, with the trace of a recent blow, and your eyes reflected both pain and terror.

“Let go of my girlfriend right now, motherfucker!” Rafe roared as he launched himself at Luke without a second thought.

Rafe’s presence startled Luke enough for him to loosen his grip for a moment, and you managed to stagger back to the side. Rafe didn’t give you time to react. He landed a punch straight to the jaw that sent him tumbling backwards, but Luke quickly recovered, attempting to strike back. 

“What the hell are you doing here, brat? It’s none of your business!” Luke shouted, furious as he tried to grab Rafe. 

“It is when you’re hurting her!” Rafe shoved him hard against the wall, his rage igniting like an uncontrollable fire. 

The two men grappled, but Rafe had the upper hand. Though Luke tried to punch him, he was too drunk to be effective. Rafe eventually tackled him to the ground, pinning him down with one knee as he gasped for air. 

“If you touch her again, I’ll kill you,” Rafe snapped in a cold, deadly voice. 

Luke let out a bitter laugh, but didn’t get a chance to respond. Rafe dropped him on the ground, unconscious from one last blow, and turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice much softer now, though his eyes still glittered with fury.

You were shaking, leaning against the wall, tears rolling down your cheeks. You nodded weakly, but Rafe saw clearly that you weren’t okay. Without another word, he picked you up, ignoring your weak protests, and carried you to his truck.

“Rafe, you don’t have to do this…” you murmured, but your voice cracked.

“Yes, I do have to,” he replied, his jaw set as he carefully placed you in the passenger seat.

He drove straight to the hospital, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. When they arrived, Rafe insisted that you be checked out, and while the doctors made sure you had no serious injuries, Sheriff Shoupe arrived to take a report.

At first, you were reluctant to speak, but Rafe stayed by your side, holding your hand as you recounted what had happened. It was difficult, but every time you hesitated, Rafe looked at you with that mix of determination and tenderness that made you feel stronger.

Finally, Shoupe nodded, closing his notebook.

“We’ll do whatever it takes to keep Luke from bothering you again. I’ll send a team to arrest him right now.”

Rafe let out a sigh of relief, though he still seemed tense. He helped you out of the hospital, and when you finally climbed back into his truck, the silence between you was charged but comforting.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you murmured, barely audibly.

He turned his head toward you, his expression softening for the first time all night.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

The days following the incident at your house were a whirlwind. After Rafe’s intervention, you’d spent more time with him than ever before. Though you’d tried to reach out to the guys, you knew they were too busy with their obsession with gold to really pay attention. On the one hand, you felt guilty for keeping secrets from them, but on the other, it hurt that they weren’t there when you needed them most.

Rafe, on the other hand, wouldn’t leave your side. After what had happened with Luke, he’d insisted that you stay at one of the Cameron properties, a place where he knew you’d be safe. Though it was strange to depend on him, you also felt more protected than ever.

When the Pogues finally returned, they were quick to notice your absence. JJ was the first to raise his voice.

“Where’s my sister?” “He asked, his tone tense as he walked down the dock.

Sarah, who had spent the last few weeks feeling guilty for leaving you behind, tried to calm him down.

“Maybe she’s at home, JJ. We can’t assume the worst.”

“Oh no? What if something happened to her while we were away looking for useless treasure?” he snapped, pointing at her.

“Easy there, buddy,” John B chimed in. “Let’s go find her and see what’s going on.”

Without wasting any more time, the Pogues hopped in the Twinkie and headed straight to your house. But when they arrived, they found the front door taped shut and the place completely empty. The sight stunned them.

“What the hell happened here?” Kiara muttered, crossing her arms as she looked at the mess.

JJ, furious, started pounding on the door with his fist.

“This doesn’t make sense!”

Sarah was the first to notice that something was out of place. From her perspective, something about the mess and the police tapes seemed familiar.

“I think this has to do with Luke,” she said quietly, looking around.

“My father?” JJ turned to her. “If that bastard did anything to him, I’ll kill him with my own hands!”

John B tried to calm him down, but it was clear that everyone was just as worried. They didn’t know where you were, and uncertainty was eating away at them.

Hours later, it was Sarah who finally found you. You were with Rafe, on a remote beach, leaning against his chest as he held you protectively. The rest of the guys arrived shortly after, stopping dead in their tracks at the sight.

“What…?” JJ was the first to react, his shocked expression giving way to uncontrollable fury. “What the hell are you doing with him?”

You pulled away from Rafe quickly, but he stayed by your side, his gaze fixed on JJ with a mix of defiance and warning.

“JJ, I can explain,” you said, but your voice was shaking.

“Explain it?” Kiara interjected, her face a mix of disbelief and disappointment. “We’re looking for you everywhere and you just happen to be here, cuddling with him!”

“How could you betray us like that?” JJ snapped, taking a step towards you. “He’s a fucking bully, a psychopath!”

“Stop it!” Rafe raised his voice, and everyone glared at him with hatred. His jaw was set, his eyes shining with suppressed fury. “While you guys were too busy on your fucking treasure hunt, I was here saving your sister from your fucking father!”

The silence that followed was deafening. The Pogues stared at him as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

“What?” JJ asked, his tone lower, but still filled with distrust.

“Luke,” you finally said, your voice cracking as you tried to find the words. Luke… he attacked me.

“If I hadn’t gotten there in time,” Rafe continued, his voice sharp. “If I hadn’t been there, your father would have killed her.”

JJ’s expression changed drastically. It went from anger to fear, and then to pain as he processed what Rafe had just said.

“That can’t be true,” he muttered.

“It’s true, JJ,” you said, your voice barely audible. “Rafe saved me.”

The rest of the Pogues fell silent, processing the truth. Kiara looked down, while John B placed a hand on JJ’s shoulder. Sarah, who already suspected as much, simply nodded regretfully.

Rafe looked at you for a moment before turning his attention back to them.

“I don’t care what they think of me,” he said firmly. “But I’m not going to apologize for protecting her.”

The air between you was thick with tension, but this time, it wasn’t hatred that filled the silence. The Pogues didn’t say anything else, but the glances they exchanged confirmed that, as much as they hated to admit it, Rafe was right.

In the days that followed, although no one said anything directly, you could feel their gazes shifting away whenever Rafe accompanied you or when they mentioned something that might have to do with you. There were no more accusations or confrontations, but there was no open acceptance either. It was as if they had decided to ignore the subject entirely, something you were grateful for even though it hurt a little.

Rafe, for his part, remained unwavering. Despite the judgment he knew he was receiving, he never let it push him away from you. If anything, he seemed more determined than ever to prove to you that you could fully trust him.

One afternoon, as you sat on the porch of the house where you were now staying, Rafe drove up in his truck. He got out with a paper bag in his hand and that crooked smile you knew all too well.

“What do you have there?” “You asked, putting aside the book you had been pretending to read.

“Surprise,” he replied, walking over to you with an air of mystery.

Rafe sat down next to you and pulled out two wrapped burgers and a box of fries from the bag.

“I thought you might want something other than canned food,” he joked as he handed you one of the burgers.

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was a small gesture, but after everything that had happened, it meant a lot.

“You’re a hero,” you said with a smile before taking a bite of the burger.

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking about anything but the Pogues or Luke. Rafe seemed determined to keep you away from any topic that might make you uncomfortable, and you appreciated that more than you could put into words.

A few days later, as you walked with Rafe along the beach, you unexpectedly ran into Sarah. She was alone, sitting on the sand with her gaze lost in the horizon. Seeing you, she raised her hand in a shy greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft.

Rafe braced himself beside you, clearly prepared for an argument, but Sarah didn’t seem interested in fighting.

“I just wanted to tell you that…” he paused, looking first at you and then at his brother. “Thank you. For being there for her.”

Rafe looked taken aback for a moment, but then nodded.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied in a neutral tone.

Sarah looked at you, and for the first time in days, you thought there was some warmth in her eyes.

“We… the guys and I… shouldn’t have judged you. It’s just that…” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “We didn’t expect something like this to be happening while we were gone.”

“I understand,” you said, though there was still a small wound in your chest from how you had been treated at first.

“But if you’re happy with him… then it’s okay,” Sarah continued, looking at Rafe with a mix of wariness and resignation. “Just… take care of her, okay?”

Rafe smirked. “I plan to do that.”

After that encounter, things began to change. The Pogues didn’t mention your relationship with Rafe anymore, and while not everyone was completely comfortable with the situation, they realized it wasn’t something they could control.

JJ was still the most distant, though he avoided any sarcastic comments when you were with Rafe. John B and Kiara seemed more neutral, and Sarah, though torn, slowly began to accept that Rafe was an important part of your life now.

Even though you knew there were still tensions with the Pogues and that life on the Outer Banks would always be complicated, at that moment, you felt like everything was where it needed to be. With Rafe by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.