#all of Shadows little voice lines are so nice too

[hall0wedwyrm]

Shadow Generations my new beloved. I'm gonna play it like a million times...... probably.

the ending ..... I'm speechless tbh. I have so many favourite parts it's not even funny. The Cutscene with Sonic... the Goodbye from Maria and Gerald.... the scene before Shadow goes to face Doom.... there's just so much to love...

[daemonbrain]

"One of me is cute but two though!"

2.4k, cw: breeding kink, smut, kinda baby trapping (?), not proofread

a/n: based off Juno by Sabrina Carpenter hehe happy reading :)

Simon Riley who would go to the ends of the earth for his bird. You wanted to watch your favorite movie for the millionth time with him? Done. You were craving take out from that special spot across town in the middle of the night? He’s placing your order and grabbing his keys to go pick it up after a quick goodbye kiss. You wanted him to kill a little red-haired prick who got too close to you -grazed your arm- yesterday at 17:37 while in a crowded line when he went to the loo, with his bare hands? Fan-tastic. (He may be projecting a little)

But he was worried. He might not be the most perceptive man, but he wasn’t so thick headed he couldn’t see the signs.

The way you made googly eyes at every baby you passed by. Fuck sakes he had never seen so. many. babies. 

Little things everywhere nowadays, though it might just be he’s now paying enough attention to notice. It definitely helped the unintentional search that your grip on his arm tightened every time you saw one. Your soft coos as you turned to him to say for a third time in a row that the babe was the “cutest thing you had ever seen”.

He loved you like he loved his gun after it got him out of a tough spot (he loved you more, but he's pretty poor at putting an example on it), but there was one thing he was wholly unsure he could give you. Being a father has never been something he was sure of, his own making his childhood a living hell assuring him that it wasn’t in his genes or anywhere in his future. He came to terms with that years ago and shoved the idea out of his mind entirely. 

As you both sat down at a coffee shop while taking a break from your park walk, you just happened to get seated right next to another woman, a stroller in your direct view.

Fuckin’ great.

Biting your lip you take a peek at the chubbiest little thing in a deep sleep. Catching the gaze of the mother you smile. “She’s adorable” you chirped. 

As the mother responded with a smile of her own, Simon felt a foot gently nudging his leg as gave him the prettiest eyes. Did you even try to hide it anymore? No, you really didn’t. Eyes filled with thinly veiled intentions, eyes that said “Look how cute! Jump across this table and give me one now,” 

“Isn’t she cute Si?!”

He sighed and replied in his usual grumble, “course, ‘er little jumper is nice.” Tactics. Swiftly move out from the topic and do not let the missus see the little bows… on the jumper… he just pointed- for fucks sake you saw it.

After quite some time giggling with the mother over photos, because of course that had to be the natural progression of things, Simon observed in his characteristic shadow-like demeanor before the little one began to fuss in her sleep. The mother excused herself and the babe to nurse and it’s then you finally turn back to your silent companion with your usual beaming.

“ ‘avin fun there, yeah?” He laughed which came out more as a snort as you mockingly kicked him under the table.

“I am as a matter of fact!”

Pulling his hands into the air in surrender he looks you head on. “Okay, I get it.”

“The baby was just so- ugh! Did you see how chubby she was? Her little hair.. Gosh!” Stay on task. Do not get distracted by the target's beautiful smile or laugh. Someone had to be the voice of rationale after all.

“Like I said ‘er jumper was nice, luv.”

When the pout came to your lips, he considered it a success (you were hot either way) and chalked the whole thing as a minor bump in the road. Whatever this baby fever was would pass.

Nonetheless, he should’ve known his bird better than that. She wasn’t a quitter, that’s for damn sure. As you cooked up dinner in that cute apron and served it plated up so nicely it dawned on him just how… domestic this all was.

It was nice, he concluded. Calm.

You remained pensive and quiet for the most part during dinner, clearly desperate to say what you had been on your mind for weeks. He could see the way your mind's gears turned, wanting to blurt it out. Like an animal going feral at the bars of its cage. Except your the animal and your cage is the inherent trust you will not go awol and chuck your birth control pills into the trash while he’s not watching.

“Simon…” 

Here it comes.

Simon grunted out his response while chewing on his food, looking up to meet your cautious gaze. Leaning across the table you gently lay your hand on his which held his fork, pushing it down.

“I’ve been thinking… a lot lately.” There you went with that look again. “Have you… ever thought of kids before? I- I know we’ve had this talk before… but-”

“C’mere.”

He outstretched his big arms and patted his lap. With quick acceptance you hurried over and let him pull you on top of him, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on your ass for support. The deep kneading of it was also for support of course. 

“You know how I feel about them. ‘Is jus not somethin I think about, luvie.” He didn’t dare look away from your eyes. If he was about to take that gleam out of your eyes he at least owed it to you to watch.

You grabbed his face with a light touch and caressed the stubble which had begun to grow with a look beginning to resemble a spot of desperation. Pressing yourself further into his body, you couldn’t help your protests.

“Si.. I just- I want one so bad.” You began to slide your hand down the side of his neck, pressing forward to gently place a kiss. Leaning your forehead in the junction between his shoulder and neck you continued before he could respond.

“Don’t you? A little baby with us all the time.”

Someone had to be the voice of reason and Simon was going to have to put his foot down on this.

“You’re not thinkin straigh’, luv. It would be cute-” He was cut off in shock as he felt the slight rock of your hips as you cowered into his shoulder.

“Just imagine it! One of me is cute enough, but two!” The pace began to speed up as you blatantly started grinding against him. He let out a little huff. Voice of reason. Though his reason was nowhere to be found when he put his hand that was idly on the chair to your backside to encourage the movement.

You knew what came next, you had to sweeten the pot. You knew you were being mean, but you just had to! You were practically given no choice!

“Don’t you want that Si! Don’t you wanna make something together?” You all but pleaded. He looked straight past your head with a crumbling steely demeanor. Fuck.

You already began to tug at his shirt and with a final glare, Simon couldn’t help but look at his pretty bird. His pretty bird on top of the prize she coveted, heat passing between their bodies. Just one time. One time and then they could talk about this properly. 

Simon gathered you up in his arms and stood while pressing an eager kiss to your lips. It was a soft and long thing as he brought you both to the bedroom you shared. He threw you down on the bed and stripped himself as you excitedly did the same.

Smiling up at him as if you won. You did not win. This was not a win, right? You were on your birth control either way, he would pull out as needed. What harm is there in fucking his own girl.

Pushing you on to your back he parted your legs to look what lay between them. There was the prize he was most proud of. Puffy cunt at the mercy of the cool air being pushed out by the vents. You were already beginning to shine.

“You were just waiting for it weren’t you? Knew I couldn’t leave you hanging, yeah?”

With a giggle you spread your thighs further and wiggled your hips teasingly. Simon dropped to his knees and pulled your body to the edge of the bed. Throwing each of your legs on either of his shoulders he spit into your cunt, taking two thick fingers and rubbing it in, catching on to your hole lightly as he played with the slick. He could see the way your stomach tightened as he circled your clit and he winded you up further when he firmly flicked it.

“Si” you whined.

“Wha’ is it?” He grinned as he lowered his head to press a kiss down. Devolving from a kiss, he grabbed onto one of your thighs with a strong grip and began to sloppily lick while you let out your breathy little moans, sensitive to the absolute tank holding you still as he ate straight from the source.

He licked and it just kept going. Dragging his tongue around your cunt, up to your puffy clit. He harshly sucked as he latched on to it drawing a cry from your vulnerable form. Tugging at his hair, he only looks up with his eyes, refusing to pull away his mouth. 

Shaking your head with wide eyes you couldn’t help but push your fluffy little agenda.

“Si please. Please. Please, I need it! I’d never ask for anything else-” you moaned in surprise once again as he added a finger into your hole. Willing himself to pull away from you, Simon continued to fuck his finger into you as he spoke up, spittle and slick coating his mouth. He had to switch gears, use logic (and cum) to deter you.

“We’d never have time. All this?-” He added another finger into your clenching pussy “Gone. We’d be cleaning spit up instead.”

“We’d have a baby!” You exclaimed insistently.

You were practically off the edge, usually by now Simon had you fucked into your own little world. This incessant begging for a little one of your own is keeping you sharper than usual. He’d fix that.

“Please Simon” You pulled him up, the strain of his cock to be inside you encouraging him to follow your movements. He looked at you pretty tits, pretty like everything else on you. Taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling hard.

“These’d get all full.”

Fuck that backtracked his own point. His mind fighting back the onslaught of thoughts at the sight of your tits growing round and heavy because of something he could do. Would your body get all soft- NO.

Lining himself up and looking at that pleading expression, the only time he’d ever seen you so wanting of something you were willing to roll around with nothing else on your mind.

“Just one Si, just one with your eyes your nose your hair-” Your breath went short as he pushed himself in, giving shallow thrusts to feed into your aching cunt. Recomposing yourself you gripped on to his bicep, “Just do it, lock me down tonight.”

Simon couldn’t help the way he subconsciously began pushing your thighs up to give himself a deeper angle, your ankles dangling weightlessly above your head, knees to your chest. The groans which sounded through the room as his hips hammered into you in a desperate chase. 

The two of you could do nothing but stare into each other's eyes, losing yourselves in each other while your cunt squeezes him like a vice. Determined to keep him there, body obstinately stuck on one thing.

 Someone had to be the voice of reason. Someone had to object to a little one with his eyes and your personality. Someone had to be rational and not think about painting the nursery while you waddled about. Someone had to remain level-headed and not imagine the way your eyes would light up with unfettered joy.

You tossed your head back and he couldn’t help but grip your face in his hand, tugging it right back to him.

“With me luv, with me. Look at me.”

Someone had to be rational.

Nodding your head shakily you keep your eyes on the massive man pounding away at you, feeling the way your stomach bulges trying to accommodate all of him, your cunt coaxing him further into the sticky trap.

Your body begging for one thing, you looked like you needed it. Tongue lolling out of your mouth as you were fucked stupid, sweat collecting on your brow. You looked perfect. Your whining swallowed by his own mouth when he presses another kiss to your swollen lips, body enduring in hopes the fat cock ruthlessly disturbing its peace would grant it the big load it craved.

Someone had to be rational?

Maybe it was the way you sucked him in, the way he couldn’t stop thrusting into you, but it’s as if your body sent some message to the receptors in his mind. All that flashed before him images of happy and full and with his baby.

As if you could sense his thoughts, your own peak quickly overcame you white hot. The way you spasmed around him with a loud cry of pure ecstasy.

“Give it to me!” You somehow managed. His mind went blank as drunk off the pleasure as you were, the only thing he could do was thrust, unable to comprehend anything else.

 A shame Simon couldn’t be rational when it came to his bird.

With the final slam of his hips, his release went into the deepest depths of you. His grip on your hips burning from how tight it was as he kept himself flush against you.

It took a few moments to come down from the high. Simon looked at your sweaty face, hazy from lack of energy. Maybe you did win this one, but he really didn't get all this effort (not that he was complaining) if you were still on birth control.

Birth control... which he hasn't had to remind you to take for quite some time...

Out of pure curiosity at his realization, he gently pushed the two of you further up the bed while keeping you plugged up. Opening the first drawer he manages to grab the box which contained your birth control pills. Upon further inspection, he notices it remains unopened and untouched. Shaking his head with a gruff laugh he peers down at you as you shiver from the rumble.

“Dirty girl”

You just smiled.

[ebodebo]

calling simon when you realize a creep is following you…

(a little darker? so be mindful of that! also, not proofread!)

-

You can feel your heart palpitating.

Practically beating out of your chest.

This is the shit you see on the television.

It, it just doesn't happen to you.

How naive of you to think that.

You had decided to grab some items to make homemade pasta for dinner tonight.

Just make a quick trip; the store was only a couple blocks away.

Gave you a chance to get your steps in.

You had gathered all the essential items and awkwardly carried them to the checkout, mentally kicking yourself for not grabbing a basket.

As you made your way, you tried to ignore the man wandering back and forth through the aisles nearby.

Maybe he was making pasta too?

The older man behind the counter started scanning your items.

He was a little slow, but you didn’t mind.

Well, until the man from before stood behind you in line with only a pack of spearmint gum in his possession.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

Maybe he just gave up on making the pasta?

Yeah, checks out.

You quickly grabbed the bag from the counter and dropped two fifty-dollar bills on the counter, which was much more than needed, but you couldn’t wait for the older man to give you change.

You had this sinking feeling in your gut.

Call it intuition, if you will.

The door swings open as you make your way out.

Your breath clouded around you in the cold.

You have a nice stride, and when you turn your head over your shoulder, that man with the gum has started following you.

He isn't running; instead, he is strolling leisurely.

Which almost pisses you off more.

Just a quiet coward.

You try to calm your breathing.

Maybe he just has to go this way?

Exactly.

You aren’t the only person that has to walk this way.

It’s only until you split through an alleyway because you still feel uncomfortable, and that motherfucker cuts with you.

Now you know.

Without a shadow of a doubt.

You were being followed.

He still hasn’t picked up his pace, and neither have you.

You’re scared that if you start sprinting, he’ll match your movement twofold.

So, you try and remain oblivious.

Only two more blocks.

You carefully grip your cell phone, open the screen, and call the only person on your emergency contact list.

You held the phone to your ear, and it rang once before he spoke.

“Sweetheart,” Simon, your boyfriend, greets, his voice the same familiar rasp you have become accustomed to.

“Hey,” you try to keep your voice steady, hoping Simon doesn't get alarmed immediately.

“What’re you up to?” He asks, his voice calm.

Good.

He’s none the wiser.

“What are you—what are you doing?” You stutter out, your eyes lingering behind you to see the man still walking along.

“Uh, work?” His voice is noticeably confused; you had kissed him goodbye to go to work hours ago.

“Cool, cool,” you breathe out. “Having fun?” You blurt out randomly, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Uh…are you alright?” He asks, and you can easily picture the confusion on his face.

“Yeah. I’ll be home soon,” you say, hands slightly wet with perspiration.

“Alright…” His voice shows clear confusion.

“Shadow misses me, huh?” You manage to sneak in the code word Simon made you come up with.

You hear the sound of his chair scraping against the floor and the rattle of keys. “Where are you?” He says with urgency.

“I’m, yeah, I just got the supplies from the grocery store down the block,” you say, trying to not sound frightened.

“Go to Johnny’s house. It’s closer,” his voice is low.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll be sure to do that,” you casually say, even adding a small laugh so as not to cause the man to think you’re on to him.

“Don’t hang up,” he commands, and you can hear the roar of his engine turning on.

You make it to Johnny’s house unscathed, and as Johnny promptly opens the door upon your arrival, the man pivots to turn the opposite way.

Go figure.

“I, uh, I made it to Johnny’s house,” you whisper into the phone as Johnny closes the door behind you.

“She’s safe, Lt,” Johnny shouts so Simon can hear.

“You did good, sweetheart. I’ll come pick you up in a minute. Need to do a quick detour,” Simon gruffly says.

“Where are you going?” You ask curiously.

“Eh, just need to pick something up. You’re good with Johnny, okay?” He assures his voice is laced with care.

“Yeah, okay,” you affirm.

“Baby, could you give the phone to Johnny real quick?” He asks kindly.

“Yeah,” you begin, hanging the phone over to Johnny. “It’s for you.”

“Ghost,” he greets.

“Found his address.” Simon doesn’t bother with a greeting; he gets straight to the point.

“How did ye’ do that?” Johnny asks with a straight face, trying to make the conversation sound boring.

“Don’t worry about it,” Simon says roughly.

“Where are ye’ off to?” Johnny prods, though he doesn’t even have to ask.

“Gonna go visit him. Tell her I’m getting something for work,” Simon directs.

“Alright. Yer’ gonna go get somethin’ for work,” Johnny repeats, giving you a thumbs up.

You quip your brow before Johnny’s voice lowers just a little. “And Simon, if ye’ need help with that…work,” his eyes drift to yours, trying to sound less conspicuous. “Call me.”

“Won’t be necessary,” he mutters, Johnny can hear him cocking a gun. “I’ll take care of it.”

-

author’s note: all it takes is ONE edit and i’m scrambling to my drafts😭

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

Adjustments

Eddie Munson x Reader

It hadn’t taken you long to adjust to having Eddie around.

Steve, Robin and yourself had formed a comfortable friendship, it was easy, peaceful and despite everything you all went through you melded back into reality once again.

Except this time, Eddie Munson melded too.

Right as if he’d been there the entire time.

For the last two years his loud and unapologetic presence had become a normality in your life, and the two of you couldn’t be more different.

He had the same cautious prejudgments of you from High School, and having ran in the same crowd as Steve for a while, you couldn’t exactly blame him for his weariness around you at the start.

But High School was a long time ago.

Well it felt like a long time ago.

While Eddie was all leather jackets, heavy boots and loud music, you were somewhat shyer than when you were younger and more reserved now. Not wanting the attention anywhere near you, a quiet life in the shadows was exactly what you preferred now.

And it took Eddie a while to get used to you too.

He wasn’t sure why you were so quiet around him to begin with, it put him on edge but as time went on he realised actually that’s just how you are, and he’s more than happy to speak for the both of you, often spending time together in the group you would rarely get a word in between him and Robin.

It was a nice balance and having him around to be the loud outspoken one was a comfort.

And you grew to love it.

And him.

It was funny because you weren’t even aware of your feelings until Robin pointed them out, Steve catching on to her words too.

“Oh shit honey, I actually see it.” He had informed, realisation dawning on you.

While that was about a year ago now and while Steve and Robin loved to tease you about it, you obviously weren’t going to actually do or say anything about it.

He probably still thought you were preppy and stuck up like back at school.

Which bought you to now, present time and currently stuck on the side of the road just outside of Hawkins and glaring at your car.

It was smoking a little and you tilted your head in thought as to whether it was a real issue or if you could just wait it out, but considering it had broken down, and was literally smoking you concluded it probably was a real problem.

Looking around you spotted a phone booth just down the hill so with a huff and eye roll you headed over. This really wasn’t what you needed after the day you had just had. All you wanted to do was go home and watch some movies, maybe hang out with Steve or the whole gang.

Sighing heavily at your evening plans dwindling away you dialled the number you knew by heart.

And it only rang twice before you heard him.

“Yeah hello?” He barked down the line and despite the gruffness in his tone his voice made you smile.

Actually it made you grin.

“Hey Eddie it’s me.” You announced and there a bit of a scuffle on the line before you heard him more clearly.

“Hey Pretty, what’s up?” Blushing at the nickname he had called you which he’d given you years back, having probably forgotten your actual name at the time, but for some reason it stuck.

“I kind of broke down, well my car definitely did.” You told him cringing at your own sad tone.

“Broke down? Where?” He asked worry woven into his tone and the burst of excitement you felt seemed odd at a time of crisis like this.

But he really sounded like he was worried, biting down on your bottom lip to stop the smile you hummed trying to think of where you were.

“Just on the way into Hawkins I guess, as if you’re heading to Hoppers cabin before town.” You heard him clutch some keys on the other end of the line before barking orders at you.

“Don’t move and stay in your car.” He instructed.

“Eddie! No it’s smoking I don’t want-“ he cut you off with an impatient sigh and a firmer tone.

“Get your pretty ass in the car Y/N and stay there until I find you. I’m on my way.” And then the dial tone.

Following his instructions you did as you were told trudging back to your car. Sighing heavily as you say patiently in the drivers seat.

You could be home by now.

Out of your stupid dress and makeup wiped off.

But then maybe ten or fifteen minutes later you saw Eddie, he was in Wayne’s tow truck and you could make out his navy overalls were a little smudged with oil but he gave you a grin and sarcastic wave through the windshield.

He jumped out and you rolled your window down to pout up at him.

“Need a hand?” He asked teasingly poking his head through.

With a playful eye roll you turned to him with pursed lips to really show your sadness at the situation, but instead goosebumps prickled at your arms at the closeness of the two of you. The freckle on his nose visible to you he was so close, but he cleared his throat before standing up and opening your door.

He about melted at the sight of you pushing your bottom lip out, yours eyes looking up at him for saving.

And saving he could do for you.

“I think she’s dead.” You told him and he gave you a sad smile.

“I can fix her, come on go get in the truck there’s AC in there.” He told you helping you out the car and up the step to the truck.

He licked his lips as he took you in, bare tanned legs in front of him as you climbed up, a baby blue summer dress and white little heeled shoes. Not your usual attire these days and it reminded him of High School.

Remembering only then that you had mentioned a lunch at your grandmas house a few towns over.

He made a mental note to ask you about it.

Seeing your patents wasn’t something you usually ever wanted to do.

You watched as he popped open the hood of your car took a look around, tried a few things and then tried to start her up but nothing came of it. But no matter what he tried within 30 minutes he had latched her up to the tow and joined you in the truck.

“I’ll take her to the shop, Wayne can have a look. He usually figures out what’s wrong pretty quick.” His tone was easy and you nodded at him suddenly aware that the two of you would be spending time together alone.

There was rarely an occasion you’d hung out without Steve or Robin also present. And even if you weren’t used to it there was still a comfortable warmth around you. You felt safe and it was easy being in his presence.

“Thanks Eddie.” You told him with a sweet smile, head lolling to the side to look at him, tugging your dress down when you noticed it had crumpled higher than usual.

Eddie’s eyes flicking down at your movement before focusing back on the road.

“It’s my job.” He fobbed off with a chuckle and you frowned.

“I didn’t call you because you’re a mechanic or anything, I called you because well you’re you and I knew you could help me.” Your words made his cheeks go a little pink, he huffed out some air from his nose before beaming over at you.

A proud glimmer in his eye.

“Well aren’t you a little charmer today.” And it was your turn to blush because as he said he reached his hand over from the stick to squeeze your knee.

But after driving back to the shop in peaceful silence, Eddie’s music playing from the radio keeping a comfort, you finally pulled up outside the garage and followed Eddie to the office where Wayne was sat.

“Uncle Wayne, we got a case of an over heated cooling unit and low battery.” Eddie diagnosed as Wayne looked up giving you a friendly smile.

“We’ll get her fixed right up girly.” Wayne reassured making you roll your lips into your mouth at the expensive sounding issues. “Don’t you worry about nothing.” He barked in a tone sounding familiar to his nephew’s and you saw where Eddie got his kindness from.

“Thanks Wayne but I can talk to my dad-“ you started to try and offer but he gave you a stern look. Probably knowing first hand what an asshole your father is.

“Take her home Eddie.” Were his next words as Eddie began ushering you out to his van, one hand on your lower back and the other grabbing his keys off the hook at the door.

“Wanna go grab some burgers?” He asked as you put your seatbelt on.

“From Benny’s?” You perked up in excitement making him chuckle with a sideways glance at you.

“Yeah from Benny’s, what they didn’t feed you at your grandmothers lunch?” He teased trying to broach the subject and still be a little light hearted but you groaned and closed your eyes.

“It’s not polite to over fill your plate or eat more than two quarters of a sandwich.” You informed him and then looked over. “Apparently it’s not lady like.” You added.

Your parents were from the same cut as the Harringtons, it’s how you and Steve became friends. Forced to sit in boring itchy outfits at the country club every Saturday and Sunday as your parents paraded you around like trophies.

It’s also why you live in a studio above the coffee shop on the high street and why Steve lives in a one bed two buildings down. Neither of you having much of a relationship left with your parents.

“It’s not polite to go hungry either, besides that little dress makes you plenty lady like.” His tone was flirtatious and you knew he was trying to cheer you up while making fun of you.

“And don’t worry I’ll even get you a milkshake so I know you’ve been fed through the night.” Grinning at his words you looked over at him excited for the evening again.

“I love Benny’s.” Was all you managed to say.

“I know Pretty, that’s why I’m taking you to Benny’s.” He assured as if it was obvious but you didn’t think he paid that much attention to you, until now. And pulling into the parking lot he was happy to be with you.

Just you.

Not that he was brave enough to say that out loud.

Once you had both eaten and you were picking at his left over fries you hummed content. The conversation about Robin’s new love interest, or Steve’s latest dating disaster had died down and you had just been laughing at a story he was telling from his gig last weekend, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

“We should do this more often.” You told him bravely, dropping the fry and leaning closer by resting your chin on your hand.

“We practically live in Benny’s.” Was his blazè response as he watched you gulp and nod slowly, realising maybe you had meant more than just the diner.

“Sure but I mean just me and you. We should hang out more often, without Steve or Robin.” You said it so quickly he barely had time to recover but he’d caught your every word.

And he knew he had to think quickly before you took it back or changed your mind.

“Just me and you?” He echoed as if seeing what it sounded like on his tongue as well as getting confirmation before he got too nervous to bring it up again himself later.

“Yes Eddie, just me and you. I had fun with you this afternoon. It’s nice.” You looked away from him and down at the fries, your confidence fading. He took in how your cheeks were reddening and the tip of your ears were on fire.

“Steve and Robin are pretty annoying.” You laughed out loud at his response, and his way of making you laugh even in moments like this made your chest hurt.

You almost thought that was him rejecting you, softly and kindly.

But rejection nonetheless.

But when your hand reached over for the last fry he grabbed it gently with his own, placing the softest of kisses on the top.

You watched intently, lips rolled into your mouth trying to suppress a relieved grin.

“Just me and you huh?” He teased harmlessly and grinning at you like he’d just won the lottery.

“I like the sound of that.” He hummed happily.

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

[zeroseuniverse]

Just Friends?

Word Count: 774 Summary: “Are you two dating?” Haechan would laugh, wave it off, and insist, “Nah, we’re just friends.” Pairing: Haechan X Fem Reader

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Haechan had always been a little too loud, a little too playful, and maybe a little too reliant on the presence of his best friend. But that’s how it had always been—natural, easy, and entirely platonic. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

From the moment they met in high school, they were inseparable. They’d spent countless nights gaming until sunrise, laughing until their sides hurt, and pulling off the kinds of pranks that got them both into trouble. People constantly mistook their closeness for something more, but every time someone asked, “Are you two dating?” Haechan would laugh, wave it off, and insist, “Nah, we’re just friends.”

But recently, the "just friends" label didn’t sit quite as comfortably as it used to.

The cracks began to show at a mutual friend’s wedding. Watching his best friend dressed to perfection, effortlessly chatting and laughing with other guests, made something in Haechan’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t ignore. His usual confidence wavered when he saw her smiling at someone else, and for the first time, he felt like a spectator in her life instead of the main character.

The night only worsened when someone asked them to dance. Haechan’s jaw tightened, his grip on his drink a little too firm as he watched her take the stranger’s hand and head to the dance floor. He tried to focus on anything else—his other friends, the music, even the buffet—but his gaze kept drifting back to her.

Why was he so bothered?

Later, when she finally returned to their table, Haechan’s teasing smile faltered. “Nice moves out there,” he said, his voice a little too casual. “Should I be jealous?”

His best friend shot him a look, half amused, half curious. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of your new dance partner,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light, though the edge of sincerity crept in despite himself.

She shrugged, giving him a playful nudge. “Please, like anyone could compare to you.”

The words were meant to tease, but she sent Haechan’s heart racing. He forced out a laugh, but the knot in his chest tightened. What was happening to him?

Over the next few weeks, everything felt different. He started noticing the little things—how her laugh was his favorite sound, how her presence made everything feel brighter, how he always looked for her face in a crowded room.

It wasn’t one-sided, either. She began noticing the ways Haechan had always cared for her, in his own chaotic but thoughtful way. The way he’d bring her favorite coffee without being asked. How he’d always make sure she got home safely, no matter the hour. How his teasing never crossed a line, always laced with affection instead of malice.

Their friendship became laced with new tension—awkward silences that hadn’t been there before, lingering touches that felt electric, and stolen glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

One night, after a particularly long gaming session, they sat together in the quiet of Haechan’s living room. The only light came from the TV, casting soft shadows across their faces.

“Do you ever think about us?” she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Haechan froze, his heart pounding. He played dumb, because that’s what he did when things got serious. “What about us? Like, our legendary gaming skills?”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was soft. “No, I mean... us. You and me. Like, if we ever—” she stopped, shaking her head. “Never mind.”

But Haechan didn’t let it drop. For once, he didn’t deflect.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think about it all the time.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. His best friend stared at him, wide-eyed, as Haechan rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“I don’t know when it started,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. And not just as my best friend. I... I think I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “You think?”

“Fine,” Haechan said with a dramatic sigh, his humor creeping back in to mask his nerves. “I know. Happy now?”

She  laughed, and the sound made his chest feel light for the first time in weeks.

“Haechan,” she said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You’re stuck with me forever, you know that, right?”

He grinned, his usual playful confidence returning. “Good, because I’d really like that.”

And just like that, the walls between them crumbled, leaving only the warmth of something real, something inevitable, and something neither of them wanted to let go of.

[gf2bellamy]

hello again <333 i loved what you did with my other request btw

i was wondering if you could write a fic where reader is late night baker. so spencer comes home near like 2am expecting reader to be asleep but instead finds them goofing off in the kitchen while waiting for their bake goods to be done?

- 🦔

cookies — spencer reid

pairing: sencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think a/n: hi hi 🦔 !! i'm glad you liked the other one <333 hope you like this too :) ( i'm craving cookies now )

Spencer opened the door as quietly as possible, careful not to let it creak. After all, it was nearly 2 AM, and the last thing he wanted was to wake you. But before he could even set his bag down, he heard a sudden clatter from the kitchen.

His brows furrowed. That wasn’t the sound of someone asleep.

He hesitated for only a second before shutting the door behind him, placing his bag on the ground, and slipping off his shoes. As he hung up his jacket, more noises drifted through the apartment.

Spencer slowly stepped closer, rounding the corner to the kitchen. The sight that greeted him made him pause.

You were sitting on the counter, legs swinging absentmindedly, a book open in your lap. The kitchen was a disaster—flour dusted the countertops, sugar spilled in little trails, and an open bag of chocolate chips was dangerously close to tipping over.

Spencer’s lips twitched. “Should I be concerned?”

You tossed your book onto the counter, grinning as he stepped closer. He chuckled, settling between your legs and resting his hands on your thighs as he glanced at the oven. Through the glass, golden cookies were baking, chocolate still glistening from the heat.

“Cookies?” he asked, amusement clear in his voice.

You hummed in confirmation, looping your arms around his neck. “Midnight cookies.”

Spencer tilted his head. “It’s 2 AM.”

“Fine, late-night cookies,” you corrected. “I got bored.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, his thumbs brushing against your skin. “So your solution to boredom was turning the kitchen into a crime scene?”

You scoffed. “First of all, rude. Second, it’s controlled chaos.”

Spencer glanced at the counter. “That sugar bag is on the verge of death.”

“…semi-controlled.” You grabbed a spoon from beside you, holding it up to his lips. “Taste.”

He eyed it warily. “There’s raw egg in this, isn’t there?”

“You solve murders for a living, but this is where you draw the line?”

Spencer sighed but leaned forward, taking a small taste. The second it hit his tongue, his eyebrows lifted. “That’s… actually really good.”

You smirked. “Exactly.”

You reached up, brushing your thumb across his cheek, taking in the faint shadows under his eyes. “You must be exhausted.”

“I was,” he murmured. “But this is… nice.”

Your smile softened, and before you could stop yourself, you pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. “You should go to bed,” you murmured. “I’ll clean up and—”

Spencer shook his head. “Not tired anymore.”

You shot him a knowing look. “You’re lying.”

“I’m just delaying the inevitable,” he corrected, squeezing your thighs lightly. “Besides, if I go to bed now, I won’t get to steal a fresh cookie.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s your priority right now?”

He nodded solemnly. “Absolutely.”

Before you could respond, the oven timer beeped, breaking the moment.

Spencer stepped back as you hopped off the counter, grabbing an oven mitt and carefully pulling the tray out. The cookies were golden brown, the chocolate still slightly melted. The smell alone was enough to make Spencer’s exhaustion momentarily fade.

You pointedly ignored his comment, instead breaking a cookie in half and blowing on it dramatically. You then held it up to his lips. “Here.”

Spencer leaned in, taking a bite. The warmth of the cookie combined with the rich chocolate made a pleased hum escape his throat. “Okay,” he admitted, chewing thoughtfully. “This was worth you staying up.”

You beamed. “Told you.”

Spencer reached for the other half of the cookie in your hand, but before he could grab it, you popped it into your mouth, grinning mischievously.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, but the fondness in his voice betrayed him.

You giggled, grabbing another cookie and pressing it into his hands. “You deserve a whole one, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer shook his head, laughing softly as he took a bite. He hadn’t planned on staying up much longer, but if late-night baking sessions with you meant stolen bites of cookies and laughter in the kitchen, maybe sleep could wait just a little while longer.

[lionneee]

Your sworn sword

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: fingering, degradation (just a bit), 'just the tip', talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

Part 1 -> Part 2

{Request: I have a request! Aemond is send across the narrow sea to be the sworn sword/knight of a (verryy beautiful) princess from a noble house is esso’s. As punishment what he did to lucerys Thanks for reading dear 💙}

To say that Prince Aemond was grumpy was an euphemism.

He was rigid, stoic, and rude.

But your father loved him.

You couldn’t understand why, not after his most recent kill: his little nephew.

You remembered meeting Luke Velaryon once, he was a nice, gentle, kind boy.

His brother Jace was just the same.

Princess Rhaenyra had been invited as a guest at your father’s name day feast with her family, and you remembered spending a nice afternoon with her sons.

You actually kept contact with her youngest child, Jace. You two sometimes sent letters to each other, talking of your days apart.

You would have never said it outloud, but you had a weakness for the boy’s dark, beautiful hair.

But he was promised to her cousin Baela.

As soon as you heard the news, you thought he would have stopped sending you letters, but he didn't, and you almost cried of joy when the next letter came.

Then, your father sided with the greens.

He sided with rude, dangerous people, and named the worst of them as your sworn sword.

When he told you about his choice you begged him, you cried, you did everything you could to try to change his mind but it was all to no avail.

Now, all the other Ladies never sat with you, they were afraid to speak with you, all because of some dark, evil, scary person standing behind you, following every step you took.

It was so obvious how much he hated being a night, yet, he stood his role perfectly.

Aemond was always there, lurking like a shadow behind you, his presence cold and heavy, suffocating your every breath. He never spoke to you unless necessary, never showed any warmth or softness in his voice. There was nothing but formality and distance, a thick wall of indifference that made your skin crawl whenever he was near.

To be fair, the only thing you thought interesting of him was his dragon Vaghar.

Your days had become a game of silence, your once carefree nature now replaced with the constant awareness of his eyes on you. You missed the days when you could write to Jace without a worry, when his words brought you comfort and a glimpse of hope. Now, the letters felt like a secret rebellion, something dangerous, but you couldn’t give them up. They were the only link to a world that still held some warmth.

You still wrote to him, though your letters had become shorter, more cautious. You dared not mention Aemond, or your isolation. Instead, you spoke of mundane things, of books you were reading, of the changing seasons. Jace’s responses, too, had shifted, though he remained kind and attentive. There was always a note of tension, a hint of restraint. You knew he was aware of the shifting tides, of your father's allegiance to the Greens.

 You happily walked in your room, smiling as you held the newest letter on your hand from Jace.

Aemond was walking right behind you, but you couldn’t care.

Jace's letter had just come.

You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door of your room behind you, leaving Aemond outside, guarding your door. 

You jogged to your desk, sitting down on the chair and breaking the sigil, opening with trembling hands the letter.

There were only a few lines written.

You furrowed your brows, confused. He usually wrote at least one page.

Dearest friend,

I assume you have heard of my family’s recent loss, my sweet brother Luke, gone by the hand of my uncle Aemond. 

It saddens me to tell you this, but due to your father’s allegiance and your newest sworn sword, I believe it is time to end our communications.

Jace Velaryon

You felt a pain in your chest.

A deep pain.

You weren’t going to receive any more letters from him. 

I believe it is time to end our communications.

You stood up from your desk, leaving the letter to hit the floor as you ran to your bed, laying face down, your arms crossed under your face as you bursted into tears.

You didn’t eat lunch, you didn’t have dinner. You didn’t want to get up from your bed.

Your maids, even one of your closest friends tried to walk past Aemond to check on you, but he was impenetrable, he wouldn’t let anyone in, not if you didn’t want them to.

His behavior left you speechless.

You knew he was loyal, you knew he was one to do his duty, but the way he stood up for you, not letting anyone in just as you asked, left you almost flattered.

The hours dragged on as you laid in your bed, the room dark and suffocating. The weight of Jace's words still lingered, pressing down on your chest. It was as though the last thread connecting you to the warmth of your past had been severed. You felt utterly alone, the castle walls seeming colder, the silence more deafening.

But outside your door, Aemond remained, steadfast and unmoving. His presence felt different now, less like the shadow you despised and more like an unavoidable part of your life. He had become a constant, whether you liked it or not, and now, oddly, that constancy brought a shred of comfort in your moment of loss.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky, you hadn’t moved from your bed, save to cry quietly into your pillow. The pain of Jace's rejection, not just of you but of the friendship you had cherished, was overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else, let alone leave your room.

A soft knock echoed through the thick wooden door. At first, you ignored it, thinking it was another maid or friend trying to check on you, Aemond would have taken care of it in a moment. But after a moment, there was another knock, firm yet measured, followed by a voice, calm, collected, and unmistakably Aemond’s.

 "You haven't eaten." He said, his tone devoid of his usual coldness, though it was still restrained. You laid still, wondering if you could pretend you hadn’t heard him. But the silence lingered too long, and it was clear he wasn’t going to leave. He was your sworn sword, after all, bound to you, whether you liked it or not.

"I’m not hungry." You muttered into your pillow, your voice muffled and thick with the remnants of tears.

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, which was unlike him. Then, Aemond spoke again, quieter this time. "It has been hours. You should take something, if only to keep your strength."

His words were filled with disinterest despite the meaning of them. He made impossible things possible.

"I don’t want anything." You repeated, more firmly this time. 

The door opened with a loud creek, and Aemond just walked inside. You scoffed, annoyed, but you felt too sad to think about him pissing you off.

“Leave me alone!” You groaned on the mattress, clenching your hands into fists. You could hear him moving in the room.

“That puppy of my nephew is what has reduced you in this state?” He asked, scoffing. You turned your head to look at him, and you saw him looking down at a letter in his hands.

Jace’s letter.

You bolted upright on the bed, fury boiling inside you at the sight of Aemond holding Jace’s letter. His tall, imposing figure seemed even more oppressive in the dim light of your room. His one good eye flicked over the page with a mixture of disdain and cold amusement, while the sapphire in his other socket glinted in the low light.

"Give that back!" you demanded, your voice cracking from the tears and frustration, but Aemond made no move to return the letter. He dropped the letter, letting out another scoff.

“You’re a fool.” He said, his rudeness making you red to your ear.

“How dare you talk to me like that?” You exclaimed, indignited.

“He’s a bastard. You’re sweet on a bastard, the son of my whore sister. That’s foolish.”

You felt your blood boil at his words, each syllable a sharp jab to your heart. “You don’t know anything about me! You think you can judge me just because you think you're so much better than everyone else!?”

He stepped closer, towering over you, his expression a mixture of contempt and something unreadable. “I am better than everyone else. I’m surely better than that boy who has no right on the throne he wants to claim so much.”

Your anger flared, but underneath it was a deep sorrow. “He’s more than just a name or a title! Jace has been kind to me, and you—” you pointed an accusing finger at him, “you are the one who brings darkness wherever you go.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, the air crackling with tension. “Kindness won’t save you, and neither will that bastard. This world isn’t built on sentiment. It’s built on strength and blood.”

“Strength?” you spat, incredulous. “Strength that comes from killing boys? That’s your idea of strength?”

He looked unfazed, his expression hardening. “Luke was weak. That’s why he’s dead.”

“You’re twisted.” You hissed. “It brings you pleasure, doesn’t it? Being feared, see people looking away from you –” He pushed you back before you could continue, as he started pulling off the upper structure of his armor.

You stumbled back as you looked up at him, confused and stunned, but he pushed you back again as he took off the lower part of his armor, making you fall back on your bed.

“You want to know what brings me pleasure?” He grabbed your ankle, dragging you down the bed until your butt was almost over it. He pushed the skirts of your dress up, exposing your legs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You tried to close your legs, or pull down the skirts, but he raised your legs up, then he leaned down to grab both your thighs, spreading them apart, pressing his face against your underwear.

“This.” He mumbled against the thin clothing, his nose pressing against a funny spot against you, that made a strange sound come out of your mouth. “This brings me pleasure.” He growled as he pulled down your underwear along with the stockings. “Teaching stupid ladies their places.” He said as he dived his face back between your thighs, now his mouth pressing on that same spot, sucking and rubbing with his tongue, leaving you breathless for a moment, the pleasure was so high and so good you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t see him, your skirts were covering the view, but you didn’t really care. Not when it felt this good. 

You didn’t think you'd ever felt this good. 

The one who was making you feel good, was a Targaryen Prince, a child murdered, the rider of the largest dragon in the world.

You could only squirm, your mind numbed by the pleasure, slowly overcoming all the alarms your brain was sending you, telling you to push the prince away, to not let him touch you in such an appropriate manner.

But then, all so suddenly it stopped, leaving you panting heavily. You saw Aemond raising his head from between your legs, coming into your field of vision.

His chin was wet, his only eye almost completely black as he looked down at you.

His hands moved on your skin, almost gently, caressing your skin as they moved up, your knees, your ankles. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, securing your legs raised, your feet by each side of his head.

You should have stopped him.

This was improper, it was a sin. A sin you were committing with the worst man in the Seven Kingdoms.

You wanted to move, kick him back, telling him to stop touching you with his filthy, blood-stained hands, but under the dark gaze of his single eye you couldn’t move.

Aemond tightened the grip on your ankles, suddenly pulling you up so your hips lifted from the mattress. Startled, you let out a weak squeak, gripping the sheets tightly as your body moved forward, the back of your thighs landing harshly against him, your core rubbing against a protuberance on his pants, the impact sending another jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah, you like it.” He hummed to himself as he dropped you back on the mattress. He leaned down, his body making space for himself between your legs as his face came to hover yours. “And you want to feel it more, don't you?” He smirked, looking down at you.

You could feel your face burning because of his words, more likely because of the truthfulness of them, because yes, you wanted to feel it again.

“No-” You mumbled as you looked up at him, directly in his eye, trying to sound firm, but he simply chuckled, grabbing your face with his hand, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your cheeks. “Such a liar. No wonder why my sweet bastard-nephew doesn’t want you.” 

That stang.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears and anger.

“How dare you?” You hissed as you tried to push him off of you, slapping his chest repeatedly, but he only smiled even more.

“There, there…” He hummed as his hand went back underneath your dress, finding you private again. No matter how much you fought, his body was keeping your legs apart, and he seemed impossible to move.

You only stopped when you felt a strange feeling, something filling you in a way you’ve never felt, that made you gasp out loud. You unconsciously let out a moan, your back arched instinctively, as your body almost contorted as he started moving his finger inside you.

“So easy to shut you up, mh?” He asked as he followed your face to be able to see every expression you made. “So easy to put into place.” He added then in a low voice.

You gritted your teeth together, trying to find in you the force to push him off, to not give him the satisfaction he was showing with that damn smile of his, but you couldn’t. The only sounds that came out of your mouth were whines or soft moans as his finger moved faster inside you, caressing everywhere inside you, and eliciting a pure bliss of pleasure.

“Jace is a fool for leaving you.” He said as he looked at you, your eyes half closed, your head leaned back, your lips apart. He didn’t even look like he realized he said that, it was like he was talking to himself and accidentally said it outloud. You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes fixed on you, staring in appreciation. “You’re a rare beauty.” He said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. A warmth spread across your chest, but you weren’t sure if it was the pleasure or the way his gaze lingered on you. 

No.

You thought to yourself.

Not him.

Please.

But the way he looked at you, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world was doing something to you. It made your stomach clench, your head dizzier.

You’ve been told countless times by suitors that you were a sight to see, a beauty, but it did nothing if not make you blush or feel appreciated.

With Jace you felt your heart beat so loud you feared it could jump out of your chest.

You too were aware of your beauty, but you never thought of it as a rareness.

But now with Aemond Targaryen, the cold, mean, cruel man, who was doing unspeakable things to you, who looked at you like a Goddess, you truly felt like one.

Aemond’s gaze pierced through you, a silent intensity in his expression that made your breath catch in your throat. You wished you could deny the way his presence and actions were affecting you, wished you could ignore the way his words stirred something deep inside. But the truth was undeniable. 

As he slipped his second finger inside your thigh core, you felt it crushing on you. You didn’t know what, but for a moment, you forgot about everything, Jace, the war, Aemond’s sins, your worries, your anger and your sadness, it all vanished by the newfound feeling of ecstasy. You whined louder, making aemond clamp his other hand immediately over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he kept moving your fingers. You looked at him with wide eyes, you didn’t know what had just happened to you, but you wanted to keep feeling it, no matter what cost, you wanted to feel that good again.

He kept pumping his fingers inside you as you saw him starting to move, rub, against your thigh, some hardness pressing and caressing your skin. His brows arched slightly, his eye narrowing slightly as he pressed his hips harder against you, seeking more friction and pressure. 

You’ve never seen a man do a face close to that one.

You’ve never seen Aemond make a face like that, and it was beautiful, it was breathtaking, hypnotizing, you felt like watching him all day as he experienced his pleasure.

He didn’t miss the way you seemed affected, obviously. He looked down at you and found you staring at him, his eye darkened even more, his pupil dilating even more if possible as he clenched his jaw.

“You like this?” He looked down at you, moving his hand from your mouth to your neck, gripping it tightly, but not enough to actually cut your air off. You tilted your head back, wrapping your hands on his wrist and arm, gasping as he slipped his fingers out, passing them over your pearl just to see you squirm, his lips moving into a smirk. “No.” He said as he sat up in his haunches between your legs, forcing you to spread them to make room for his body as he started to undo his pants. “You love it.”

You tried to look down, trying to understand what he was doing but he squeezed your throat into a warning, keeping your head in place. “What are you trying to see, uh?” He growled as he pushed his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. “Such a curious menace, always getting into trouble.” He hissed as he leaned over her to look at you from above. “Always sneaking around, making my life harder.” He gritted his teeth. “Making me chase you.” He raised her skirts to your waist as he aligned his cock to your core, wet and warm, hot.

“No – “ You mumbled as you felt the tip pressing on your skin. “Y-you can’t- We’re not married-” You mumbled as you panted, shaking your head. Aemond smiled down at you, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck. 

“No one will notice.” He said firmly, pushing slightly, making his tip grace the inside your core, just slightly, enough to hear another moan from you. “Just…” He groaned as he repeated the movement, moving his hips forward as his face contorted in pleasure. “... the tip – Fuck –” He groaned as he started moving his hips, the tip of his cock was being sucked in every time by your cunt, as if it was trying to keep him inside. 

It didn’t feel bad.

She did feel like her cunt was being torn apart, but she found the pain mixed to the pleasure extremely pleasing.

It was good.

It was so good.

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so strong, so blissful.

“A-Aemond – “ You bit your lower lip as you arched your back, jerking your hips to find more pleasure as his tip kept slipping out and back in.

Aemond couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight, your core making a wet sound every time he slipped in, your walls forced open to make space for his thick cock, his red tip being welcomed in the warmness of your body, and then the sound of your weak wail every time he pulled back, only enough to be able to push back in.

“Yeah like that –” He growled as he tightened his hand around your neck, his eye still fixed on how your bodies connected, his thrusts regular, calculated and hard.

He was hanging by a thread, and he was showing a great amount of control, just by not slamming his whole long cock inside you, and making you scream in pain and pleasure.

“Grind yourself like a whore –” He snarled as he started rolling his hips faster, the wet sound growing louder along with his pace. “Fuck youre so tight – You’re squeezing me inside - ”

It didn’t bother you the way he called you, the way he spoke. If not, it only aroused you more.

You bit your lower lip harder, and no matter how low you tried to keep your noises, it became impossible as Aemond moved his free hand, using his fingers to circle your pearl, putting just the right amount of pressure. Your back arched violently as you threw your head back, your mouth open in an oval shape, grunts and moans coming out one after another as Aemond tightened his hand around your throat, starting to cut some of your air supplies, your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

It was all so much.

It was all so good.

“Come.” He growled as he finally looked up at you. “Come, before I lose it.” His eye fixed on yours. He looked feral. He looked like a chained animal, that once set free, would have hunted and killed everything in its path. “Come, before absolutely ruin you.” 

It wasn’t like you had any control over it, because when the pleasure reached you in such a hard, strong frisson, you could only surrender to it. Your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but Aemond tightened his hand on your throat even more, killing every sound you could have let out. Your eyes watered as your hips jerked, the pleasure washing over you in devastating waves.

He snarled, letting go of your throat, but you barely had the time to take a deep breathe because you felt a stinging pain, barely muffled by the aftershocks of you climax, as Aemond grabbed tightly your hips and harshly pulled to him, making you slip down on the bed and making his cock thrust completely inside you, as he moaned on top of you.

“So fucking tight.” His voice was strained, his breathing heavy, then, you felt a strange sensation of wetness inside you.

You whined as the bliss of pleasure slowly faded away, leaving you in an uncomfortable pain, so you pushed Aemond away, who retrieved with a groan, slipping out of you.

You slowly sat up, looking at him as your mind slowly registered the last moments. 

Aemond stood up from the bed, tucking himself inside his pants and starting to put his armor back on.

You didn’t say anything in the meanwhile, you just stared down at the bed covers, where you and Aemond were laying till a few seconds before, committing one of the worst sins ever.

A sin that felt so good.

You snapped out of your moment of trance only when you heard the door slam shut, and a strange smell of burned paper in the air. You moved to the end of the bed, on the floor, there was a piece of paper on fire.

Jace’s letter.

Part 2

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy

[cmdrfupa]

The bathroom was warm with post shower steam, that faint scent of shower gel and shaving cream hung in the air as you swirled the brush in the tin of shaving cream.

Toji sat on the closed toilet lid, shirtless, boxers stuck to his thighs that spread in that lazy way of his, one arm draped over the sink next to him . His hair’s still damp from the shower, black strands falling messily into his eyes, and there's a flicker of amusement in his gaze as he watched you gather a bit of the shaving foam on the brush.

"You sure you know what you're doin', sweetheart?" he drawled, voice a gravelly hum that settles deep in your chest.

"I've watched you enough times, haven’t I?" you retort, tapping off the excess cream. "Besides, you promised I could because you wouldn’t let me hold it while you pee. If I nick you, that's on you."

He chuckled softly, a rare sound that always filled your heart, and tilted his head back just a little, offering the strong line of his jaw shadowed with rough stubble. “Mkay. Apply a nice even layer to cover all the stubble. Circular motions.”

And you did. You guided the brush, the lather spreading over the dark stubble dusting his jaw. Soft circles that had Toji’s eyes slipping half closed.

You swept a few more gentle circles near his Adam’s apple before sitting the brush down.

You looked over at the straight razor then let your eyes move over to Toji.

“You really trust me with a blade to your throat?” You murmured, voice losing its bravado as he picked the blade up.

Toji's lips curved at the corners. "Trust you more than I trust myself."

The weight of those words hangs between you for a beat too long before you clear your throat and nod. “Okay.”

“Alright.” Toji flipped the razor open. “You’re going to hold the razor with your first finger on the shoulder of the razor and your thumb just outside the heel. Make sure the first three fingers rest on the tang.” He gently took hold of your dominant hand and placed your fingers appropriately.

“Keep the handle pointed up and place your little finger between the tail and the handle just like this. Feel good.”

You loosely gripped the razor before adjusting it for your comfort, feeling the cool steel on your finger joints. “Mhm.”

“Perfect. Now. Come closer so we can begin.”

“Toji, if I fuck your face up-“

He chuckled pulling you closer by your waist, the pads of his calloused fingers rubbing at your plush hips. “Then I’ll be glad it was you who did it. Breathe, peach. I’m guidin’ you.”

With a deep, albeit shaky breath, you smiled and took a step closer as he tilted his head up again.

“Now softly pull my skin upward on the cheek you want to start with,” he murmurs, voice a low rumble, chin up to expose the sharp angle of his jaw.

Your thumb lightly pulled up, creating a smooth shaving surface. “K. Skin pulled.”

“Now don't press too hard — let the weight of the razor do the work. Shave with the grain.”

Easy enough.

You held the razor at a thirty degree angle. Your other hand steadied his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone, and you felt the slight shift of his jaw as he smirked.

Hands stayed steady, drawing the blade slowly along his jawline, the quiet scrape of the razor filling the space between you.

Toji reached up, running his fingers over the smooth surface and raised his brows. “You got that really close on a first go.”

Squinting, you raised your own, “That’s good, right?”

“Very good. Now, keep going. You’ll be done in no time.”

His stubble fell away in neat lines, revealing the smooth skin beneath, and you caught yourself lingering — fingertips grazing his cheek, tracing the corner of his mouth after you wiped his face clean.

He reached and ran the cold water, rinsing his face, splashing small amounts until it was free of shaving foam and was soaked.

Toji's eyes fluttered shut for a moment at your touch as you patted his face dry.

Lips parting just a little, the soft look so tender it could knock the breath right out of you.

“You're good at this,” he says softly, almost like it's a confession.

“You're just saying that so I finish the job.”

He chuckles, the sound reverberating through the small space, but there's a weight to the way he's watching you — like this simple act, the trust it requires, means more than either of you can put into words.

“Nah,” Toji finally says, voice rough. “Just like having your hands on me.”

Your heart stumbled over itself, and for a moment, the razor in your hand felt like the most delicate thing in the world — second only to the man in front of you.

“Now. Let’s do skin care. Your face is gonna feel amazing with a little snail mucin.”

His lips twitched. “Snail what?”

[suguann]

an. a little 'and-they-were-roommates' drabble series to get me back into writing because it's been an age. | masterlist | part two

It starts as a situation built off convenience: he needed someone to take care of his place while he was gone, and you needed a place to stay. 

Simon never thought he’d get anything out of it other than coming home to a house that feels lived-in and the entryway clear of envelopes from months of neglecting his mail—another voice throughout the day besides the intrusive ones in his head that spun like a carousel with the word work etched on top. 

It’s not until you show up on his doorstep, three boxes and a measly duffel bag crowding your arms, that he thinks he really should’ve thought this through better. He’ll only realize this after the fact—weeks late, sleepless nights filled with images of daisy-shaped buttons down the front of a summer dress and a smile that nearly knocks him flat off his feet.

As it is, he’ll blame it on the handful of sleepless hours from tiny airplane seats and energy drinks sleuthing through his system that clouded his judgment, then admit it’s nice coming home to a woman who looks pretty reading a book on his living room couch.

Only his soap-slick fist in his bathroom late at night will know the honest-to-God truth. That is if there was ever a god he believed in. 

He never claimed to be a good man. 

(Can anyone claim to be good in his line of work?)

Just an honest one.

So it goes something like this: he tries not to come off as an obsessed, lonely fuck (the jury is out on either) by just existing in the same space as you whenever the opportunity arises—reading the paper while you make breakfast on the stove he hasn’t touched in too long to remember when, flipping through a book Simon didn’t even know he owned while you water plants you picked up on your way from work, watching whatever you have on the telly before you both go to bed—then he’s on a plane, being shipped out to who knows where with a gun holstered to his hip.

Rinse and repeat. 

The fourth time he comes home after an assignment keeps him away longer than expected, he finds you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a cute, frilly apron tied around your waist that he’s never seen you wear before. A smile curls the edges of your mouth as you look over at him, everything in your face soft and attentive—a vision suddenly takes shape.

You with a ring on your finger, Simon calling you his little wife, getting to hold your hand whenever he feels like it, and not because yours accidentally brushed up against his. His hand fisting in your hair, bending you over the counter, your cheek covered in powdery confectionery, fingers rucking up your skirt and apron because he can.

He blinks once, twice, and the little fantasy falls apart. 

Except you’re still in his kitchen, smiling prettily and happy to see him of all things. Imagine that.

Your lashes flutter, making crescent shadows across your cheeks. “How was your trip?” you ask. “You look more tired than you usually do.”

A shrug, a dismissal. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I have some tea that might help.”

“Tea.” He repeats to fill the quiet if only to stand there a little longer, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his clothes smelling like recycled air. 

“Yeah, I got it from a friend a few weeks ago when I caught this cold that was going around the office.” Sometimes, you ramble, and he can do nothing more than let you get it out of your system—not that he minds. “I swear it’s nothing janky or anything. Just try it; it might help.”

You’re so damn earnest about it that he can’t bring himself to say no.

“Sure,” he says and watches a wide, satisfied smile stretch across your face.

It’d be easier if you weren’t so sweet and gave a sincere fuck about the comings and goings of his life. If the smell of your perfume wasn’t following Simon everywhere—sugary vanilla faintly clinging to his balaclava even after he’s washed it—as a reminder of what’s just out of his reach.

(A mindfuck is what it is.)

[megalony]

Can't You Be Mine- Part 3

This is the newest part of my Evan Buckley series, and I hope you will all like it. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Summary: Now that Minnie has started referring to Evan as her dad, he has officially adopted her. And he turns up to protect and look after her and (Y/n) when they need him.

Enjoy.

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

"So, I was thinking…"

Tilting her head to the side, (Y/n) let her eyes loll to the right to look across at Maddie. She knew that tone of voice. She knew whatever Maddie was going to say next was either going to be controversial or something big, possibly shocking.

She let herself sink further in her seat as she folded her arms over her chest, resting them down against her stomach that came up like a big bump in the road. Although sometimes, like now, her stomach acted like a cushion or an armrest.

(Y/n) had taken to seeing what she could rest on her bump when it started getting bigger, just to see Evan's reaction.

His words were usually something along the lines of 'Don't use it as a table!' or 'Stop resting your drink on them.' And if she tried to rest anything light on her stomach while she was walking around the house, he always responded with 'You know I'll carry that for you, right?' but she was only doing it to tease him.

"Oh yeah?" (Y/n) grinned and started to dance her fingertips across her bump.

"We need to throw you a baby shower."

"We do?" That wasn't what (Y/n) had been expecting to hear.

"Yes, we need to celebrate. Plus, I had Jee during covid, so we never got to celebrate one for her. I think it'd be nice, Buck's already desperate to throw one."

"Oh, I bet he is… I guess it will be fun." A tender smile danced across her lips as she looked down at her stomach as if she could see through to the baby. It would be nice to celebrate and have a little get together. Everything was going great now, (Y/n) and Evan had moved in together, he had adopted Minnie, they were having a baby together.

Other than the brief setback of the run in with Mick at the store, things were the best they had ever been for (Y/n). She had never been happier or more content and she felt that she had a family with Evan's team and Maddie had truly become a sister to her. It was lovely.

(Y/n) looked ahead at the road and tried to keep her eyes on the beach they were passing by.

She hadn't been out the house in two weeks.

When Evan went to work, (Y/n) felt too nervous to go out alone. She didn't want to run into Mick, he was out on bail and (Y/n) just knew that he would be hanging around this area in the hopes of running into her again. He loved terrorising her. He loved making her feel timid and frightened of her own shadow, it gave him power over her.

She couldn't go out on her own, what if she ran into him again? She wasn't going to be much use defending herself or the baby.

Staying home where she could lock all the doors and windows felt safer than trying to leave. Minnie had only just gone back to school this week and she was not enjoying it. She didn't want to be at school, she wanted to be at home with either (Y/n) or Evan or both of them. She wanted protection and she didn't feel safe at school.

It had taken Maddie almost an hour to convince (Y/n) to come out this afternoon with the girls.

It was a lovely warm day and Maddie said they could go to the beach or the arcades and do something with Minnie and Jee. Whether it was just going for a walk and an ice cream and then going home, at least being out for a drive would get them out the house and back to a sense of normality. And (Y/n) didn't feel able to decline.

"Did you have a shower for Minnie?" Maddie looked across at (Y/n), noticing the way she had shrunk down in her seat and was absentmindedly gliding her hand up and down her bump.

"No, my parents were happy I left Mick, but they thought it was a mistake to have Minnie on my own."

All of (Y/n)'s family had seen how Mick's temper would flare and they noticed the bad effect he had on her. Making (Y/n) feel belittled and constantly on edge, how she never got to spend much time with her family when he was around and how he tried to control what she did and who she talked to.

They were thrilled when (Y/n) managed to cut all ties with him and escape, but knowing she was having a baby on her own wasn't something her family thought she should do. They thought it would be too hard for (Y/n) and when she and Minnie moved out to LA, they worried she wouldn't fair well on her own looking after Minnie.

Things had gone a bit smoother between (Y/n) and her family when they saw how happy Minnie made (Y/n) and how well the pair of them were doing. And now that Evan was in the picture, (Y/n) felt more able to talk and be around her family without feeling judged or like they thought she couldn't cope.

"Well, we will throw a great shower and show them just how wrong they were."

"Do you think your parents would come?" (Y/n) didn't want to upset Maddie if talking about her parents wasn't something she wanted to do, but she was curious.

(Y/n) had heard Evan on the phone to his parents a few times- each time it had been him to call them, never the other way around. (Y/n) had yet to see them call him and ask how he was or what was going on in his life. She heard the way Evan sounded dull when he talked to his parents. He told them he was happy in a new relationship but he didn't seem like he was expecting much back from them or much of a reaction or a glowing praise.

She had also witnessed the conversation where Evan told them he had adopted Minnie.

His parents hadn't been upset, per say, but they sounded cautious, as if this was something Evan was doing on a whim rather than something he had thought and talked about extensively and knew in his heart it was something he wanted to do.

Evan had told them it was what he wanted, that he loved Minnie and if he was going to tell people she was his daughter, he needed to adopt her and make it real. He wanted to adopt Minnie so she was truly his daughter. It meant he could be an emergency contact for her and he could be on her doctor's file. He could be on her school file and he could pick her up from school early, take her to appointments or anywhere she needed.

It also meant he could give her his last name, something Minnie was now ecstatic with. She had been practising how to write Buckley and learning how to spell it and she had told her teacher as soon as her name was changed.

Both (Y/n) and Evan were hoping that in a few years when Minnie was older, these memories would be fuzzy for her. She wouldn't remember she used to have (Y/n)'s last name or that she hadn't had Evan in her life from the very beginning.

"I'm sure they will, I've told them how happy Buck is after the move and everything. I'll make sure they come over when we organise the shower." Maddie reached across and delicately ran her hand over (Y/n)'s bump for a few seconds.

She wouldn't stand for their parents not being there at the baby shower. This was another grandchild for them. Maddie had already made it clear how happy and complete Evan felt in this relationship and that in taking Minnie on, it meant the rest of them did too.

Minnie was referring to Maddie and Chimney as her aunt and uncle and Maddie had told her parents that Minnie would need to be treated as their grandchild along with Jee and the new baby. If they didn't, they wouldn't be having contact with the new baby because it wouldn't be fair to Minnie. This was the way things were going to be.

Tilting her head up, Maddie looked in the rear-view mirror to see the two girls sitting idly in the back. "Shall we go get an ice cream?"

Both of them grinned and squealed their replies, kicking their legs in their car seats. (Y/n) couldn't of been happier that Minnie seemed very happy when she was around Jee. She got along with her class mates, but she didn't exactly make friends very well, she liked to keep to herself and her teachers said it was hard to get her socialising.

But there was only 16 months difference between Minnie and Jee and they were getting along like a house on fire. (Y/n) wondered if it was because Jee was technically her cousin now and because they were family, maybe Minnie felt more at ease around her and more eager to play and get along.

Once Maddie pulled up, (Y/n) sat forward and clicked her spine into place which caused her to wince.

She could feel the baby wriggling and when she climbed out the car, it felt like her stomach was weighing her down to the floor. It was going to be a rough few months if she was six months along and was already starting to feel discomfort.

She opened the back door and smiled down at Minnie who had been singing along to the radio the whole drive. But now it was time to get out, she could see her daughter looked nervous.

She held the Fireman Sam teddy closer to her chest and tensed up when her belt was taken off. Evan had given her the teddy and she barely let it out of her sights. And Evan had been both surprised and delighted when he came home from work last week and found that Minnie had gotten a pink pen and drawn and splotchy birth mark onto the teddy to make it resemble him. It had also caused her to ask Evan why she didn't have a mark like that too.

"Is daddy coming?"

"No, baby he's at work today. We're having a girls day." (Y/n) lifted Minnie out of her seat and set her down.

The same as (Y/n), Minnie hadn't left the house the first week after the shopping incident. She didn't want to and they didn't want to rush her. She had gone back to school this week but she hated every moment of it and was relieved to be taken back home at the end of the day. This was the first time she was going out somewhere other than school, but she wanted Evan.

She knew he would keep them safe, just like he did when he bustled into the shop two weeks ago and took them home. He promised he would keep her safe and Minnie wanted her dad stood in front of her like a protective shield. She wanted to be wrapped up in his arms because no bad people would mess with him.

"Your daddy said he wanted pictures of you having fun, why don't we see if we can win him a teddy from the arcades after an ice cream?" Maddie locked the car and looked over at Minnie who seemed to relax at her words.

With her left hand tightly clasped in (Y/n)'s and her teddy pinned under her arm, Minnie reached her other hand out and held Jee's hand. Both to keep her cousin heading in the right direction and to make them both feel safe and secure. The four of them made their way to the promenade along the sea front where Maddie said they would find an ice cream shop.

Minnie leaned her head into (Y/n)'s hip and nuzzled into her side as they walked down the promenade. She didn't want to be here, she wanted to go back home or stay driving in the car where it was safe.

"I want daddy." She tilted her head back and looked up at (Y/n) with those big pupils that looked like black holes that could ensnare everything in their path.

She let go of (Y/n)'s hand in favour of moving her arm to her chest to hold the Fireman Sam teddy so she could nuzzle her face against the top of the soft cotton. She wanted to go home now.

"You can call him later and tell him how brave you've been going out to the beach today."

"He'll be extra proud of you." Maddie winked when she could see that her words clicked something inside of Minnie's mind. She might just try and stay out a bit longer if she thought she could make Evan proud, not that she would have to do much to do that in the first place. He would be proud she had left the house, but if she could tell him she had been all the way to the beach and out for a long walk, he would be very pleased.

She nodded, her expression a little more relaxed, but she still didn't look so satisfied or at ease. She kept her mouth and nose nuzzled into her teddy and started humming as they all walked in line down the path beside the sea front.

"Wait with aunt Maddie and Jee while I grab us all some ice cream." (Y/n) kissed the top of Minnie's head and gently ushered her to stand over with Maddie and Jee.

Minnie huddled up into Maddie's side while her beady eyes followed her mum who waited in line for the ice cream. She tucked her toy tighter into her chest and pressed her lips against it again while her feet began to tap against the floor.

When Maddie took a few steps back and sat down on a bench, Jee perched next to her, holding her own teddy in her hands and quietly chatting to it like it was an old friend. And Minnie gingerly looked up at Maddie before tapping her knee, silently asking if she could sit with her.

"Come here," Maddie murmured, lifting the little girl up to sit her down on her knee. She could tell it made Minnie feel better and more secure when she felt Maddie's arms cocoon around her middle. No one could try and grab her or hurt her if she was wrapped up like this. "What's this?"

She pointed at the teddy in Minnie's hands and perched her chin on her niece's shoulder.

"It's daddy," She held the teddy out so Maddie could see her craftwork and the blobbed red ink above the right eye that resembled Evan's birthmark rather well. "Are you older than him?"

The question caught Maddie by surprise and she raised a brow, fighting off a smile as she swayed them from side to side.

"I am, I used to look after your dad when he was little."

"He said I'll be a big sister, like you… but why is daddy taller than you if he's littler?" Minnie liked the thought of being like Maddie, when Evan explained that Maddie was his big sister and she was very important in his life. He said she would be the same to the new baby.

Although Evan would never let history repeat itself where Minnie would have to love and raise her sibling, he didn't want that for anyone, especially not his own kids. As much as Evan loved Maddie for raising him, she shouldn't of had to and she had been the best part of his childhood, but that must have also been the worst part of hers. Forced to grow up, forced to raise him like he was hers rather than her brother.

"He's always been tall, you can't control your height." She watched as Minnie snuggled back into her chest and shifted down a little while her eyes focused on her teddy that was squashed against her chest.

When (Y/n) came back over and sat down next to her, Maddie grinned as Jee shuffled into her side to reach out for an ice cream. Both (Y/n) and Minnie seemed to be a bit calmer than this morning when they decided to come out here.

She knew Evan hadn't been happy when he spoke to her the other day. He was angry that Mark had the nerve to try and hurt (Y/n) in broad daylight, especially when Minnie had been there. (Y/n) had been doing so well going out on her own and feeling more confident in herself, and no Mark had gone and set her progress back miles and Evan just wanted to pummel him for it.

But for now, they would all be okay, and they would have a fun afternoon together.

***

Reaching down, (Y/n) kindly took the Fireman Sam teddy held out to her and she stuffed it in her bag hanging on her shoulder. Minnie couldn't carry two teddies at once if she wanted to hold (Y/n)'s hand as well. She had barely let go of her mother's hand at all, too afraid letting go might get them separated or allow someone like the bad man to hurt either of them.

But Minnie had done amazingly well so far. They had walked down the promenade, been along the sea front for a while, and now they were in the arcades.

Maddie had helped Minnie win a dog teddy from a crane machine and that was what Minnie was holding proudly. She wanted to give it to Evan when he came home tonight so she was parading around with it, meaning her Fireman Sam teddy was confined to (Y/n)'s bag for the time being.

When Minnie took her hand again, (Y/n) glanced around the arcade that was just a little too loud for her liking.

She looked across to where Maddie and Jee were just finishing up with one of the water gun games and she and Minnie headed over to them.

"This one! Mama do this one." Jee tugged on Maddie's hand and guided her over to the basketball game. She knew that was one that Maddie had a weakness for and when Maddie raised a brow at (Y/n), she rolled her eyes playfully and nodded.

When Evan was younger and Maddie used to take him to the arcade, this was the game they spent the most time and money on. They would play and play and rack up the tickets because both of them were accustomed players. (Y/n) was happy to take Evan's place and have a battle with her sister in law.

She felt Minnie cuddle up into her side while Jee stood between Maddie's legs, her hands excitedly tapping away on the front of the machine so she could eagerly watch the numbers at the back.

Clicking her spine into place, (Y/n) ran her hand along the side of her stomach where the baby was happily kicking up a fuss. She reached forward when the buzzer went off and grabbed the nearest basketball. (Y/n) liked this game.

"Go mummy!"

"Hurry mama!"

Jee helped roll the basketballs towards Maddie while Minnie clung to (Y/n)'s leg and leant her head against her mum's stomach. Jostling every now and then when (Y/n) had to keep reaching out for the basketballs because waiting for them to fall to the end wasted precious time.

Minnie began to count the scores, shouting out every time (Y/n) scored and she banged her hands on the side of the machine happily when both of them got through to the next round.

"I'm sweating already," (Y/n) mumbled, dragging her fingers through her hair as she clicked her back into place again. Leaning back and forth was starting to cause an ache in her lower back but the competitive streak within her was taking over.

Once the second round started, the hoop began to move from side to side, but it didn't bother either woman. Both of them seemed to be hitting baskets just one second after the other.

"Yay mummy! Round three."

"I don't think I can, you take over for me." (Y/n) took a step back and steered Minnie in front of her. She didn't have the energy for another round, and Maddie's score wasn't enough to get her into a third round which meant (Y/n) had won.

She rolled the basketballs down for Minnie who did her best, getting two or three before the timer ran out.

"Okay, what's next, now that you've beaten me?"

"Horses? Please?" Jee looked up at Maddie and pointed to the miniature merry go round next to the Dance Step game.

"Do you want to have a go?" Maddie looked down at Minnie but she shook her head. She was more interested in the crane machines or the 2p machines rather than the motion rides like that.

Minnie took (Y/n)'s hand again as they followed Maddie over to the merry go round so they could watch Jee. She was younger so this was something she enjoed and preferred and Jee was such a smiley girl that they would be able to take a lot of good photos today. They had gotten some selfies earlier where both girls had ice cream splattered across their faces. It had been a while since (Y/n) had taken any photos that weren't just of Evan or Minnie, so to have a few with Maddie and then some with all four of them was lovely.

Once Jee was perched on the golden horse and the merry go round was slowly spinning in circles, playing a rhythmic, if rather pitched tune, Maddie stood next to (Y/n). The pair of them leaned back against the Dance Step machine with tender grins and Maddie had her phone out, taking a little video.

Glancing behind her, (Y/n) watched the Dance icon stepping from left to right as the arrows lit up the screen. She loved those games, especially when she got to play the old nineties tunes and levelled up to the hard rounds.

"If I wasn't pregnant right now…" She looked wistfully at the machine while she felt Maddie's elbow gently nudging her side.

(Y/n) couldn't try it, not even on the easy level, not with her back playing up, but if they came back to the arcade once the baby was born, that would be the first game she would go on. She and Maddie could have a few rounds and see who could best the other.

When a sudden bang echoed through the overcrowded arcade, (Y/n) glanced to the left and felt a shudder run through her. Someone had backed up into one of the penny machines and the echo caused Minnie to jolt into (Y/n)'s side. Big noises were never a problem, but since the shopping incident, Minnie was viewing everything as a threat.

"It's okay," (Y/n) murmured softly, running her hand through Minnie's hair and brushing the strands away from her eyes.

Minnie dithered at her side, her eyes wide and scanning around the arcade as if she was searching for a threat.

This was why she wanted Evan to come out with them. If he was here, he would pick her up. If Evan was here, he would hold her in his arms and tell her everything was alright and no one would dare mess with him or come near Minnie or her mum if he was here.

But without him, everyone was getting too close. There were teenagers running around and a few men messing around near the machines like they were trying to break into them or shake them until all the coins fell out.

What if one of them came over and tried to hurt (Y/n) again? What if they pushed her or went to hurt Maddie? What if they started saying mean things like the other man did and tried to come near Minnie and Jee? What would they do?

Minnie could feel her heart racing as she cuddled the teddy closer to her chest, binding her arms around it so tight that if it had been breathing, it would of suffocated by now.

When the men continued to bash into the machine, Minnie couldn't find the will to look anywhere else. She could barely feel her mum's fingers running through her hair anymore trying to calm her down. But when the two men turned around and one of them started walking their way, Minnie started to shake.

She twisted to the left and scuttled away, following the patterned carpet like it was a trail guiding her somewhere safer. She weaved between the machines, jumping at every loud note of music that blasted from the machines and each time one of the zombie games let out a gunshot.

Her head tilted down and her arms pinned into her sides as she pelted off in a rush, unsure where exactly she was aiming for. She just wanted to get away and find somewhere safe.

"Minnie- baby no!" Reaching behind her, (Y/n) patted her hand down on Maddie's arm before she tried to hurry after her daughter.

Something had spooked her and she was pelting through the arcade.

(Y/n) shifted her bag strap so it was looped over her neck rather than just her shoulder, allowing her to speed up without losing her bag in the process. She weaved between the machines, holding her breath as she tried to look for her daughter's curly hair or spot the purple dress she was wearing.

Her panicked eyes scanned round as she weaved between parents, racing children and loud teenagers constantly getting in her path. Even though it was clear (Y/n) was trying to hurry after her child before they got separated. She couldn't allow that. Minnie was in a panic and if she got lost she would start to scream or think someone was going to snatch her.

She took a sharp left as her heart jumped into her throat; she was right near the exit. What if Minnie bolted outside? (Y/n) could easily lose her in the sea of people swarming about. Someone could take her hand and drag her away. Minnie could get swept up and wander too far.

Raging thoughts dwelled in her head as her throat clogged up and she couldn't take a proper breath. But just as she was about to rush out the open doors, something caught her eye.

"Minnie no!"

Lurching to the left, (Y/n) reached out for her five year old, but she wasn't quick enough. Minnie scuttled inside the prize drop of the crane machine before (Y/n) could get to her.

"Minnie, Minnie get out of there." (Y/n) dropped to her knees, despite the ache it caused in her lower stomach and the shockwave that it rattled up her spine.

She pushed the flap open and tried to reach her hand up, but Minnie was mewling like a trapped kitten. Her daughter wriggled and screamed, writhing in panic until she managed to shimmy out of the drop zone and climb over the plastic barrier. She tumbled like an acrobat and flopped onto the styrofoam cuttings and mingled in with the Disney Dumbo toys. The five year old curled up like she was trying to somehow blend in or become invisible, her dog toy cuddled to her chest and her head nuzzled against one of the other teddies surrounding her.

Each breath she took finally started to mellow out and she stopped screaming and whining, switching to deep breaths to try and calm back down.

Great.

(Y/n) could feel a wave of anger radiating through her, despite how badly she tried to fight it off when she looked at her daughter.

Why hide in there? She knew she couldn't go messing with the machines, it was dangerous. She could of broken her arm or a leg trying to get up there, it was a good job she was small and nimble.

Now (Y/n) was going to have to find an attendant and get them to unlock the machine to get Minnie out. And people were already starting to notice that there was a little girl hidden in with the toys. The last thing they needed was to cause another scene. Why would Minnie hide in there if she felt scared or spooked? How would being in there give her security or help her?

With a sigh, (Y/n) moved her hands to the glass and heaved herself off her knees and back to her feet. She tilted her head back and pressed her hand to her temple as she let herself lean against the glass separating her from her daughter.

She opened her eyes and jerked back a little when she felt a hand on her shoulder, but she relaxed, seeing it was only Maddie who had Jee sat on her right hip. Maddie seemed to look around, panic fuelling her eyes as she tried to find her niece, but when she looked at the claw machine, her lips pursed and her shoulders dropped.

"Oh," She muttered, fighting back a defeated smile while she squeezed (Y/n)'s arm. "I'll go get someone." She jostled Jee higher on her hip and hurried off to find someone who would have the keys.

"Baby, why'd you get in there?" (Y/n) rested one hand on her hip as she turned to face the glass which she leaned her temple against.

She looked down at her daughter who stayed curled up with her knees imbedded into the styrofoam and her tummy tucked over her legs. The way she looked up with those big doe eyes through her lashes made (Y/n)'s anger fizzle out and a wave of sympathy washed over her instead.

She barely managed to hear Minnie whisper "Bad man." As tears began to trickle down the little girl's face and she stayed cuddled up, wishing everyone crowding round would go away.

(Y/n) pushed off the machine and stood back on her feet properly when Maddie jogged back over with a young man following her. He didn't look much older than nineteen, with floppy hair falling in every direction and he was lazily chewing a piece of gum. The faded, bored look in his eyes brightened a little when he realised there actually was a little girl stuck in one of their machines.

"You can't take anything from the machine, you know that, right?" He raised a bored eyebrow and unclipped the keychain from his belt.

"She's not trying to take a toy, she's frightened." (Y/n) couldn't help but scowl at him as she folded her arms over her stomach and waited for him to unlock the glass door.

He huffed, nodding along as if to appease her while he switched to another key and tried to ram it into the lock.

By the time he switched to the fifth key on his chain, (Y/n) shared an annoyed look with Maddie and inched closer to the machine. Minnie was still cuddled up and the sight of the stranger in front of the machine was making her tremble and cower back. She had tears running down her face and every time she looked over at (Y/n), her lower lip wobbled.

"Do you know what you're doing?" (Y/n) snapped when the next key didn't work either. If he carried on she would take them from him and find the right one herself.

But her jaw dropped and she heard Maddie let out a disgruntled noise when they both watched the last key wriggle in the lock and suddenly, it snapped. Half the metal key stayed rammed in the lock while the end broke off in the attendant's hand.

His jaw dropped and those tired, unbothered eyes finally widened as shock plastered across his face. That clearly wasn't part of the plan and he hadn't done this before. No kid had managed to climb into the machine. Many had tried, some got into the prize drop area before their parents dragged them out. And a lot of stupid teenagers got their arms caught trying to reach up for a prize. But now the door was jammed, and Minnie was too unsettled to scramble back down. She could hurt herself trying to wriggle back down that thin prize drop zone.

"Oh shit." He mumbled to himself and he looked petrified when he turned to look at both women who were now glaring daggers into him.

"Well? What are you going to do now?" Maddie sounded stern and authoritive but she could feel herself getting angry when he shrugged.

"Lady, I- I don't have another key, anyway it's jammed."

He actually flinched when he heard (Y/n) mutter 'stupid boy' under her breath and when she gave his shoulder a forceful nudge, he took the hint. He backed up and stood to one side, deciding to tell other people to move on and stop crowding round.

"I guess I'm calling Evan." (Y/n) laughed cynically and fished around in her bag for her phone. She needed the fire department to come down here and bust this lock open to get her daughter out. And who better than her partner and his team to do the honours?

She stood to one side, staying close to the machine while Maddie moved over and looked down at Minnie, quietly asking if she was alright in there.

"Hi sweetheart, how's it going? Did you all go out somewhere?" Evan's voice made butterflies ignite in (Y/n)'s stomach and she fidgeted on the spot when she felt the baby moving too.

"Are you out on a call?"

"We're just about to head back to the station, why? Is everything okay?"

"Evan… could- could you and the team swing by and help us? We're at the arcades, and Minnie's got a bit, stuck."

It felt like too much to ask, but if she didn't ask or if Evan said they couldn't, she would have to call 911 anyway and get a different fire service to come out and help them. (Y/n) didn't want to bother Evan at work, she had never rang him at work before until two weeks ago after the whole supermarket fiasco. Now here she was, doing it again.

"Uh, stuck how?" Apprehension flooded Evan's voice but (Y/n) could hear him moving about and she just knew he was already getting the team ready to come down to them.

"She's inside a crane machine." (Y/n) darted her eyes over to Minnie who was sniffling, but she was listening attentively to Maddie who was trying to chat to her and keep her from fretting.

"Shit. Text me the address, we're coming now baby."

(Y/n) said her goodbyes and quickly sent a text to say which arcade they were in. Although by the time the team got here, people would be talking and murmuring and hovering around so it would be easy enough to see which one the commotion was in.

She leaned her head back against the machine and tapped her phone against her thigh as she looked down at Minnie.

"Your dad's coming to get you out." (Y/n) managed a tepid smile when Maddie jostled Jee on her hip, murmuring that she was going to see her dad too. At least the boys would get to see them for a little while, and both girls would be over the moon at seeing their dads on the job. Although this wasn't the best of circumstances.

"Daddy?"

A smile pulled at Minnie's lips as she lifted her head and wiped her nose against her sleeve. Locking eyes with her mum who rose a brow.

"Don't tell me you got in there so I could call your dad to come and get you out." She doubted that was Minnie's intention, she had been petrified of something and gone into panic mode. But she could see Minnie was calming down already at the thought of Evan coming to the rescue.

***

Evan looped the tool kit over his shoulder and spun away from the truck with a look of concentration plastered across his face.

He could feel Eddie and Chimney hovering close behind him as he walked away from the truck and headed over to the promenade. This wasn't the kind of callout he was expecting today. When (Y/n) called, he thought she would be telling him that they had gone out and had a good day, or that they only went out for a little while and then headed back home. He wasn't expecting to be told Minnie had scuttled into one of the arcade machines, for some very strange reason he wasn't sure of yet.

At least this was preferable to the phone call he'd had the other week. Never again did Evan want a stranger answering (Y/n)'s phone, trying desperately to tell him that there was some kind of incident involving his family at the store. He wasn't ready to be rushing from the station down to the shops, fretting that he would have to take his girls to the hospital.

"Why are we here, again?" Hen hurried to keep up with the rest of them, looping a medic bag on her shoulder just in case they needed to assess anyone.

"For some unknown reason, my daughter's managed to climb into one of the prize machines."

Evan jogged a bit faster as he spoke and rounded the corner. He had memorised the address (Y/n) sent to him, but he didn't really need it. There were people hovering outside the third arcade down the promenade and Evan would bet that was where his family was.

"Excuse me." He politely weaved between the families and teens all moving around, pretending to play on the games when really, they were trying to get a look at what was going on.

He saw Maddie first. He rested his hand down on her shoulder and grinned softly at Jee who was in her arm, looking very tired.

"Hi," Maddie squeezed his wrist and took a few steps back to let him get in front of her and see the scene. And when her sights set on Chimney, she moved over to him, letting their daughter scuttle into his arms as she squealed. She hadn't been expecting to see her dad here, in his uniform.

A wary smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips that were curved around her thumb as she had been biting her nails for the last ten minutes. She pushed off the machine she had been leaning against like a guard, protecting her daughter from anyone and everyone passing by.

The moment Evan was within reach, (Y/n) looped her arms around his neck and pushed up on her tiptoes to be level with him. She kissed his cheek while his left arm bound tight around her waist and he pulled her into his chest.

He dropped the tool kit down by his feet, briefly skimming his fingers across (Y/n)'s stomach before he leaned back to look down at her.

"Dare I ask why she's in there?" His eyes darted between the machine and (Y/n), noting that Minnie hadn't realised yet that he was here.

"She got scared and ran off, but I don't know why she clambered in there." (Y/n) felt like she could of melted on the spot when Evan hummed and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. She could feel his thumb stroking up and down her back while he slowly inched her backwards until he was in front of the machine.

When he unravelled his arms from (Y/n), Evan tapped his knuckles against the glass and placed both hands on his hips. He arched a brow and tilted his head down when Minnie's head shot up and a mixture of surprise and awe lit up her teary face when she realised Evan was here. Part of her hadn't believed that he would come down to get her out.

"Minnie Buckley."

The five year old scurried round so she was sitting up rather than lying down and she pinned the teddy she rightfully won earlier against her chest. The way she looked up at Evan through her lashes already had his heart melting and whatever sternness he had about him was starting to fade away.

"Let's get you out of there," He sighed and crouched down to rummage through the bag and see what he could find.

When he lifted his head, he frowned and tilted his head to one side as his fingers traced the lock. Someone had jammed the wrong key in and snapped it. No wonder they couldn't get her out.

"Okay," He grabbed a few tools and stood up to his full height again. At least Minnie had gotten into one of the larger crane machines, she seemed to have a lot of room in there which meant she hadn't panicked or gotten claustraphobic yet. "Shuffle back out the way, baby."

He waved his hand until she took the hint and inched back until she was pressed up against the back of the machine.

(Y/n) took a few more steps out the way when Eddie walked over to her, a kind smile on his face as he moved to stand beside Evan. He helped Evan wriggle the lock until they got the jammed piece of metal from the lock. And Evan switched tools, using a few picks and metal hooks while Eddie twisted the bolt lock with a wrench and the managed to break it.

Once the lock was broken and loose in the glass door, Evan curled his hand into a fist and bashed it against the lock. In one swift movement, the metal lock dropped into the machine, disappearing into the styrofoam. Which allowed Evan to hook his finger into the glass door and pull it open.

He took a step back, unable to stop the gracious smile from pulling at his lips and the moment he opened his arms, Minnie scrambled forward. She looped her arms- and the teddy- around Evan's neck and jumped so he could pick her up and cuddle her against his chest.

His lips attached to the top of her head and he moved over to the side while Eddie stuffed the tools back into the bag and moved over to Hen and Bobby. The three of them would take a wander round and wait back at the truck while Evan and Chimney finished up here with their families.

(Y/n) curled her hands around Evan's bicep and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, murmuring a soft "Thank you," into his arm while he kissed the top of her head.

After a few moments of running his hand up and down Minnie's back, Evan tilted backwards to look down at her and he rose a brow when she gingerly looked up at him through her lashes.

"Minnie, why'd you climb in there? You know that's naughty."

They both knew he never used her name unless it was serious or she was in trouble. Hearing her name from Evan's lips made her shudder and she tilted forward to bury her face in his shirt, but Evan wasn't having any of it. He held her in his right arm while his other hand gently but firmly gripped her chin and tilted her head back so she was looking at him again.

"What were you doing?" They needed to know. They had to know why she thought climbing into there was a better idea than staying with (Y/n) or simply running away if something was frightening.

She couldn't do that again because she wasn't going to fit into cramped places like that. She was lucky she was slim enough to get into that machine without becoming stuck or gaining a bad injury. Evan was more than happy to come down here and be the one to get her out of that machine, but he had to at least understand what Minnie had been up to and make sure she knew it was dangerous to do that.

"There was a bad man, hitting the machines… he- he couldn't get me out of there, could he?"

Evan's eyes darted over to (Y/n) and she could see the panic lighting him up like a Christmas tree, so she squeezed his arm and shook her head. Mark wasn't here. They hadn't been in any danger.

"Someone was getting rowdy, messing with the machines, she must have thought he would do something." She ran a hand down her face, warding off tears. Not only had Mark set (Y/n) back in her recovery, but now he had petrified Minnie too, and (Y/n) wanted to keep him as far away from her daughter as possible. She left him so he couldn't inflict any pain or panic onto her, but he had still managed it.

Minnie thought someone was going to hurt them and she had seen a chance to get away. If her mum couldn't get her out of that machine, then neither could a bad man.

With a sigh, Evan pressed his lips to the top of her head and peppered kisses up and down her temple and cheek. His hand smoothed up and down her back as he swayed them from left to right.

"No, no he couldn't, but you could of gotten stuck or hurt. If anything like that happens again, you don't leave mummy or aunt Maddie, okay? You just wait for me to come get you."

He felt her snuggle deeper into his chest with her head tucked safely beneath his chin and he smiled softly. His lips continued to pepper kisses against the top of her head while he reached one arm out to tuck (Y/n) up into his side. The three of them slowly made their way outside to where Maddie, Chimney and Jee were stood on the promenade.

"Please don't do that again, baby." Evan murmured into Minnie's hair. He didn't want to tell her off when she had been frightened and rightfully wanted to stay safe. But he didn't want the next phone call to be saying that Minnie had broken her arm or her leg or that she had gotten trapped. It would be a lot harder to get her out of one of those machines or something just like it if she was stuck and distressed and they had to cut through metal to reach her.

Minnie gingerly leaned her head back and unravelled one arm from Evan's neck so she could show him the toy dog she had won on one of the other machines. She watched as Evan raised a brow and reached his hand up to observe the toy.

"I won this for you daddy." Her voice was quiet and soft and very drained, making Evan sure that when he got home tonight, she would be fast asleep.

"For me?" When she nodded, Evan pecked her cheek and nuzzled his nose against hers. "Thank you, little mouse."

[suunani]

color me yours ( na jaemin )

▍ jaemin made your tattooed arm his canvas.

content : 1200 words, male reader, added member!reader, fluff fluff and fluff again, reader is tattooed, not so bestfriend!jaemin, requested here <3

all you could hear was the faint hum of music coming from the speaker on your desk.

you were sprawled on your bed, one arm propped behind your head, while jaemin sat comfortably between your legs, leaning back against your chest.

his phone was perched in one hand, the screen casting soft light over his face as you both read the comments flooding in from your instagram live.

this wasn’t planned — jaemin had suggested it after dinner, claiming the fans hadn’t seen you in a while. you’d agreed without much resistance, too used to going along with whatever jaemin wanted.

now here you were, your arm resting loosely around his waist, your thumb brushing idle circles against the hem of his hoodie. it wasn’t intentional, not really, just something you did when he was close to you, a quiet reassurance that he was right there.

“hyung, someone asked who takes longer to get ready in the morning,” jaemin said, his tone light as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

“do we even need to answer that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

jaemin tilted his head, his expression amused. “why? you think it’s me?”

“i know it’s you,” you replied, a soft smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

the fans was eating everything up, of course. the chat was a constant stream of comments. jaemin scrolled through the messages, laughing softly at their reactions.

“they’re so dramatic,” he muttered, though the small smile on his face betrayed how much he secretly enjoyed the attention.

“let them be,” you said, your voice low.

you glanced at the screen briefly, catching a comment about how comfortable you looked together. it made your smirk soften into something quieter.

the two of you spent the next few minutes answering random questions, your responses blending into easy banter. jaemin had a way of making even banal topics entertaining, his voice light and expressive as he read off comments and shared his thoughts.

you mostly listened, occasionally chiming in with a teasing remark or a deep laugh that made jaemin glance back at you with that little smile of his.

at some point, an idea struck you.

“yah.”

jaemin turned his head slightly, curious. “what?”

“there’s this trend i saw earlier,” you began, your tone casual as you reached for your phone. “people are coloring their tattoos with markers. i thought it might be fun if you did mine.”

jaemin blinked at you, then tilted his head, his lips curling into a small smile.

“you want me to do it?”

you shrugged, keeping your expression neutral.

“why not? you’re always messing with them anyway.”

he rolled his eyes, but the way his smile grew gave him away.

“fine,” he said, scooting off your lap to grab a pack of markers from his desk.

he returned quickly, sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of you.

“this is gonna be amazing,” he said, already uncapping a bright blue marker.

you extended your arm toward him, resting it on his knee as he leaned in to inspect the ink. he hesitated for a moment, his fingers brushing lightly over the designs.

“your tattoos are really nice,” he said quietly, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

you didn’t respond right away, watching him as he traced one of the lines with his finger.

there was something about the way he looked at your arm — focused, thoughtful — that made your chest feel oddly warm.

“thanks,” you said finally, your voice softer than usual.

jaemin didn’t look up, already immersed in his task.

he started with the blue marker, carefully filling in the edges of one design. his brow furrowed slightly as he worked, and you caught yourself watching him, not the tattoos, but him.

his lashes were long, casting delicate shadows on his cheeks under the dim light. his lips were pursed slightly, the faintest hint of concentration softening his expression.

you wanted to say something, maybe tease him about how serious he looked, but the words caught in your throat. instead, you just sat there, letting yourself admire the moment.

“you’re staring,” jaemin said after a while, his tone light but knowing.

your ears warmed, but you kept your expression neutral.

“just making sure you don’t mess it up,” you said smoothly.

jaemin snorted, shaking his head. “please, i’m an artist. have some faith.”

you chuckled softly, leaning back against the headboard.

the chat was going wild again, but you barely registered it. your focus was entirely on him — on the way his fingers moved over your skin, on the way he tilted his head slightly when he was pleased with his work.

he switched to an orange marker, his fingers trailing over the design for a moment before adding color.

“i think this one’s my favorite,” he said, his voice quieter now. “the way it curves here…”

he traced the shape lightly with his fingertip before continuing.

“you sound like an art critic,” you said, though your voice lacked its usual teasing edge.

jaemin smiled faintly, not looking up. “maybe i missed my calling.”

the moment stretched out, easy and comfortable.

your hand found its way back to his knee, a subtle anchor as you watched him.

you noticed the little things — the way his hair fell messily across his forehead, the way his lips twitched into a tiny smile when he was satisfied with a section, the way he hummed under his breath without realizing it.

“done,” he announced eventually, sitting back to admire his work.

your arm was a colorful mosaic of patterns and shapes, his touch adding a playful energy to the designs.

you glanced down, then back up at him.

“not bad,” you said, keeping your tone light.

“not bad?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

you smirked, pulling him back toward you so he was leaning against your chest again.

“okay, it’s really great. you happy now?”

jaemin laughed softly, settling into your arms without hesitation.

“yeah,” he said, his tone smug but warm.

your hand rested on his waist again, your thumb brushing against the soft fabric of his hoodie as the two of you glanced at the screen.

the fans were losing it, of course, but for once, their excitement felt like background noise.

jaemin reached up to swipe a strand of hair out of his face, and you caught yourself staring again. he was glowing, his cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth of the room, his eyes bright with quiet pride.

you didn’t say anything, but your grip on his waist tightened just slightly.

“stop looking at me like that,” jaemin muttered, though his tone held no real annoyance.

“like what?”

“like you’re about to say something embarrassing.”

you let out a soft laugh, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“i’m not saying anything.”

“good,” he murmured, but he didn’t pull away.

the two of you stayed like that for a while longer, the live continuing in the background, but your world felt smaller somehow. quieter.

just the two of you, sharing space in the way only you knew how.

[daistea]

I need to make that man jealous. I need to see him riled up. I need to see him lose his cool. I need to be the center of his focus. Kicking my feet, twirling the phone cord, rolling over in bed, giggling, like "What do you think he'd do to me if he found out?"

I got u. rubs my filthy trash hands together 

3,700ish words

tw violence, mildly unhealthy relationship dynamics, language, slightly suggestive, Fleki

gn reader x mithrun, established relationship

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 There are layers to Mithrun’s possessiveness.

Layer 1: Caution

You looked nice. Too nice. While Mithrun had a habit of staring, he never gawked. To gawk would imply a certain sort of pathetic desperation. Mithrun was desperate for you, but not pathetically so. 

How you looked at that moment was gawk-worthy, though. He only tilted his head, gaze roaming over your body as you leaned on the dining table, organizing your belongings. Your legs, your hair, your chest, your arms, your shoulders, your back, your—

It wasn’t acceptable.

“You’re going to Cithis’s house, you said?” Mithrun asked. His voice was level, even, with no betrayal towards the slowly growing flame burning within him.

You nodded and sent him a smile, “Yeah. Did you change your mind about coming?”

Yes? No. Mithrun felt himself tense, “I’ll think about it.”

He had zero interest in a party. He had zero interest in drinking and listening to people chatter all night. What he was interested in, though, was keeping an eye on you.

Mithrun’s fist clenched. He dug his nails into his palm, causing a light sting to run through his nerves. You dressed like that for this party? He trusted you to behave, but he didn’t trust anybody else. The thought of people looking at you, their eyes raking down you; the thought of others desiring you… It filled him with a taut, vibrating anger. He was a rope pulled too tightly, about to snap.

Mithrun was definitely going to that party, and he’d stay by your side the entire time. With his arms around you and his gaze roaming the room, nobody would dare bother you.

He won’t get into fights, usually, he won’t be dramatic or loud, but you know when he’s feeling possessive. He gets a dark look in his eye, he holds you tightly, he watches people like a wolf stalking a rabbit. His expression and vibes are usually enough to scare away potential threats.

Mithrun isn’t jealous out of insecurity. He’s jealous because you’re one of his few desires and he refuses to lose you to anyone. Simple.

He’s very shameless about it. 

The next layer to his jealousy/possessiveness is slightly more intense, though, and a bit more rare. 

Layer 2: Enter At Your Own Risk 

The streets of Melini were more crowded as of late. New people had come to check out the nation, and it made shopping for simple groceries difficult. 

You’d given Mithrun the task of locating the vegetable stand. He went without question, doing as you asked and slipping through the sea of bodies. With a moment to yourself, you hitched your woven basket into the crook of your elbow and inspected the fabrics stall. The little house you shared with Mithrun needed new curtains. 

 You ran a finger over a certain fabric, admiring the weave pattern. Yet, a shadow cast itself over the stall and a sudden presence to your right stole away your attention. 

 “Hey,” a man said. You looked up to meet his eyes. He was just a guy, perhaps his smile was a little too confident, but he seemed relatively normal. “You wanna know what material I’m wearing?”

Not particularly. But before you could reply, the man continued, “It’s called boyfriend material. Wanna touch?”

That had to be the worst pick up line you’d ever heard. Should you even dignify it with a response? You felt your expression twist into one of disgust without realizing it. And the man tensed as he noticed his lack of success.

“Let me try again!” He pleaded, “I promise, I’m a nice guy, I just wanted to make you laugh. I saw you from across the street and I think you’re beautiful. I couldn’t not talk to you, you know? I just had—“

You didn’t hear the rest of his words. Your focus immediately turned to the approaching storm. It was like watching dark clouds roll in, hearing thunder shake the world. 

Mithrun lifted his chin a little. He clenched his fist. In his other arm were several potatoes, exactly what you asked him to get. The breeze ruffled his hair. It was the worst kind of anger in his eye, the calm kind. Mithrun’s head was clear. He knew precisely what he was doing. 

Slowly, you shook your head, shooting him a warning look.

Mithrun ignored you. 

He stalked closer as his good eye narrowed. His nose wrinkled just a little, betraying his fury. His shoulders were tense and his knuckles were white as he picked up and potato and—

“No!” You commanded. Mithrun froze, obeying you, but he didn’t look happy about it. The flirty guy also froze with wide eyes.

“No?” The guy asked.

“Not you,” you hissed, then pointed at Mithrun who stood behind the guy, a potato in his hand and only inches away from the guy's back. “Mithrun, I swear to god, if you use your teleporting magic to switch out someone’s literal beating heart with a potato again, I’m making you sleep outside tonight.”

Mithrun was pissed. But he knew you meant it. He turned his gaze onto you, challenging you, daring you to stop him. You maintained eye contact, refusing to back down. He could not brutalize the people of Melini just because they thought you were pretty. The guy was annoying, but innocent. 

Finally, Mithrun’s jaw clenched, but he backed down. He lowered the potato of death and took a step away. The flirty guy was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Mithrun nodded his head to the left, “Go.”

“Yes sir!” The man said before scurrying away.

You knew your boyfriend was going to spend the next few hours a bit grumpy, a bit clingy and touchy, but… You actually didn’t mind that. It sent a thrill, a heat, up your spine.

He’ll calm down in a bit. It’s just offensive that someone would even try to take you.

Of course, you remind him that that’s unreasonable. That guy had no idea you were already in a relationship. 

Mithrun does not give a damn about reason and logic right now.

He can be a little scary. It’s nice…

Level 4: The Danger Zone

Due to being a loyal partner, purposefully making Mithrun jealous was not on your agenda. He would never do that to you, you’d never do that to him. It was cut and dry. Simple. 

Except, an old friend of yours was visiting Melini and had sent you a letter to announce his arrival. The handwriting on the letter was familiar, filling you with warm nostalgia. You hadn’t realized that you were smiling at his sweet words until Mithrun’s voice tore you from your thoughts. 

“Are they announcing another sale at the bakery?” He asked. It almost didn’t sound like a question with how flat his tone was. 

You looked up to see him in the kitchen nearby, his back to you as he slowly chopped at a green onion. His hair was pulled into a stubby ponytail, but locks of white still fell around his cheeks. You swore, sometimes that elf had eyes in the back of his head. 

“You think I’d be smiling like this at a sale announcement?” You asked dryly. 

“Yes, actually.”

He was right. You hated it when he was right. 

You always told Mithrun the truth, there were no secrets on your end. Mithrun, of course, had his little secrets that you would eventually discover. Like the time you desperately wanted a very pretty coat in the store, but someone else had already bought it, and Mithrun had Cithis brainwash the buyer into giving it to you. For months, you wore that coat thinking ‘wow how nice that they just gave it to me!’ 

Or the time the sequel to one of your favorite books was delayed. And Mithrun disappeared for two days without notice, then came back with an unbound manuscript of the book. You asked how he got it, he said he ‘knows a guy.’ In reality, he broke into the author’s house and stole the manuscript. 

The man was dedicated, you could give him that. 

Yet he kept secrets. Mithrun’s moral compass didn’t always point North and he didn’t care enough to fix it. You thought it was cute half the time, other times it caused a bit of trouble. In the case of your old friend, it would only cause trouble. 

So, for once, you decided to keep a secret. 

“No, it’s actually a sale at the butcher’s,” you lied, “buy one get one free on pork.”

Mithrun hummed in thought, “We could stock up and do a special on pork ramen.”

“We could do that, yeah.”

You hated lying. Now you had to somehow acquire an obscene amount of pork for the shop. 

You decided to tackle that challenge later. For now, your friend would be arriving soon, and you had to figure out how to meet him without raising suspicion. 

No matter how hard you try, suspicion rises like the tide. 

Mithrun isn’t paranoid about what you do in your time away from him. He has the tendency to be a bit codependent, but resists that urge (Kabru told him it was unfair to both of you to put all of his happiness on your shoulders. He begrudgingly agreed. Stupid Kabru and his stupid emotional intelligence.)

So, you go to do your thing. Whatever. He busies himself with one of his weird little hobbies, but Mithrun has a certain instinct for trouble. Something inside of him is telling him to beware, making him antsy. He doesn’t like these new feelings brought on by having a desire for you. It makes his knee bounce and his fingers restless. 

He looks at the fireplace. In the hearth, there’s the corner of a piece of parchment. Why was there parchment in the fireplace? Were you burning papers? Letters?

You were smiling so sweetly at the mail earlier…

He’s up and stalking across the house within seconds, out the door and into the streets of Melini. 

 Perhaps you were too trusting. Perhaps you were naive. Perhaps you were stupid. 

Ages ago, this particular old friend asked to marry you. You refused, of course, because you weren’t ready to get married and you didn’t feel that way about him. He asked again. And again. And again. It was annoying, but you decided to stay his friend because of your history together. 

Now that you had taken a moment to look back on said history, you realized…

This old friend had been trying to court you for years. 

“I heard you have a partner,” your friend said. His smile was tight and the grip on his utensil was even tighter. 

You forced a smile, “Yeah. Mithrun. He’s great.”

“Tell me about him.”

Where to start with Mithrun? It was a safe subject, at least. Your old friend knew about your relationship and would hopefully respect it. 

“Well, he’s—”

Your friend interrupted, “Is he handsome?”

Odd, but not unexpected. You nodded, “Yeah, I mean, he’s an elf so I don’t know if handsome is the right word. More like absurdly beautiful.”

Friend tensed in his chair. You saw his shoulders roll as if he was preparing himself for a fight. “Cool. Cool. Is he funny? Does he make you smile? Does he kiss good?”

You were definitely too trusting and naive. 

“Yes to all?”

“Is he good in bed?”

Your hands shot up as if you could physically repel the questions, “I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“You don’t want to talk about your boyfriend?” Friend asked, his eyes widening, “I thought you loved him. Is there perhaps trouble in paradise? You know you can always vent to me about it. I’m a shoulder to cry on.”

Had your friend always been like this? Surely not. You had good times together. There was that one time he made you laugh so hard you choked on water and he got so scared that he gave you the heimlich. Sure, his hands weren’t in the right place for the heimlich, instead landing on your chest, but—

Oh Lord. He’s always been this bad. 

With your food uneaten and a churning in your stomach, you began to stand up from your seat. “I don’t think this was a good idea, honestly.”

His eyes widened again, “Really? I think it’s a great idea. I came all the way to Melini to see you!”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. Listen, our lives have changed and I’m with Mithrun now and—”

Friend shot out of his seat, rounding the edge of the table before you could back away. His face was desperate and he was already breathing heavily. Nearby, the welcome bell rang as someone stepped into the cafe, but the usually pleasant noise was muffled to your ears. Friend put his hands where they didn’t belong, on your waist. That was Mithrun’s spot, that’s where Mithrun's hands went. He yanked you close and dread filled your chest.

This couldn’t be happening. 

His lips were on yours. You tried to pull away, your eyes squeezing shut. His grip was strong and your mind was racing with panic. Your hands landed on his chest to push him back and—

He ripped himself away. Or, rather, he didn’t rip himself, but he was ripped, like a yanked-off bandage. You opened your eyes to see Mithrun, and relief instantly flooded your system. 

But the calming, warm waters of your relief drained as you noticed the look on Mithrun’s face. He was naturally rather blank most of the time, yet at the moment, his good eye was narrowed, his mouth twisted into a scowl. He held your friend by his hair, ignoring the complaints and pleas and insults from the man. Without warning, Mithrun yanked on the man’s hair and began dragging him through the restaurant. It didn’t matter if your friend was bigger than your boyfriend, Mithrun had more strength and determination and sheer will to kick his ass. 

People gasped and watched with wide eyes. Someone panicked. Waiters and workers approached slowly. Yet, the situation resolved itself. Mithrun pushed the door open, the bell rang cheerily, and he yanked your struggling ‘friend’ out into the street. 

Your heart clenched. It felt as if someone had wrapped their cold fingers around your organs and squeezed. Your legs moved before you could give it a second thought, and you were out the door and chasing down your boyfriend instantly. 

Mithrun had dragged the man into a nearby alleyway and thrown him against the wall. Your ‘friend’ was on the ground, hands coming up to hold his aching head. Mithrun knelt down to wrap his fingers around his neck and—

“Stop right this instant!” You yelled. 

He froze, his eye widening. His hair was a mess and his pupils small with focus. Slowly, he stood up straight, taut like a bowstring being pulled. “Why?”

“Because I said so!” Your throat hurt from how desperately you’d yelled.

“That’s not a very good reason," he retorted through clenched teeth.

“Mithrun,” you seethed, “You cannot just grab people by their hair and drag them around.”

His expression darkened, “He kissed you. Against your will, I’m presuming.”

“Of course it was against my will!” You couldn’t help but wave your arms, a little manic and all-too-aware of the gathering crowd in the street behind you. “But that doesn’t mean you can brutalize him!”

Mithrun tilted his head and looked at you as if you were a child spouting nonsense. “Of course it does.”

“Make him pee his pants!” Someone yelled from the crowd.

“Pee his pants!” Someone else repeated.

“Pee! Pee! Pee!”

“Alright,” Mithrun agreed and turned his attention back to your ‘friend’, who was looking around as if he couldn’t believe what he’d been dragged into, terrified and shivering slightly. 

“Do not make him pee his pants,” you commanded, “I swear to the Gods I will—”

“Twist his dick!” Someone yelled.

Since when did the people of Melini get so violent? You glanced over your shoulder only to see that Fleki had arrived and was encouraging the act of dick twisting. Of course. 

“The ol’ dick twist!” She yelled again. 

Enough. That would’ve made you crack up under any other circumstances, but frankly you had no desire to see your boyfriend twist another man’s dick. Mithrun, being himself, was already kneeling down with the intent of twisting. You stomped up to him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him away. He allowed it, only making a light noise of surprise and stumbling after you. 

The further you pulled him, the less you could hear of the crowd. They expressed their disappointment, but seemed to be dispersing, unwilling to follow you and Mithrun into the darker parts of the alleyway. You rounded the corner of a building and noted that it was filled with crates and relatively clean. A perfect place to have a fight with one’s partner. 

Mithrun read your mind. He straightened up and pulled from your grip, then folded his arms over his chest and glared--- which wasn’t very different from his usual expression if not for the slight narrowing of his good eye and the hard set of his jaw. 

You returned the look. Unwilling to back down, you met his ink-black gaze and lifted your chin. 

The air thickened. It felt as if your blood had started to thrum, to vibrate within your veins. A rock lodged itself in your throat as you forced yourself to hold the gaze. No backing down. You refused. It had been a horrible day so far and Mithrun’s murderous intent did not make it any better. 

(That was a lie.)

(You didn’t want to acknowledge it, but you wanted him so badly.)

Eventually, Mithrun broke the silence, a rare act on his part in these kinds of situations. “Don’t tell me you actually care about him.”

Your blood thrummed a little higher and you felt a heat rise within your stomach, though whether that heat was from pleasure or anger you weren’t quite sure. “He was my friend at some point, though I’m not sure why. The problem here is moreso that you can’t drag people around by their hair and attack them.”

“He kissed you,” Mithrun hissed through grit teeth. 

“And that sucked, honestly,” you admitted, “but he’s just a pathetic loser.”

“Is this the same guy that’s been in love with you for years?”

You blinked in surprise, “What? I’ve only recently figured that out. How did you know?”

His gaze flattened, “Every story you’ve told me about him gave it away.” Of course. Your cheeks felt warm and you did your best to avoid his quickly intensifying stare. When you had no response, Mithrun continued, “Why did you hide from me that he was coming to visit? Did you like that he kissed you?”

An unpleasant flash of horror crossed through your chest and you gasped, “Of course not!”

Did he even need to ask that? It was absurd. Yet, Mithrun took one slow step toward you. It was the calculated approach of a wild animal on the hunt. Without realizing it, you took one step back. 

Another step forward, and you backed up. Two seconds later, your back hit the wall and Mithrun uncrossed his arms. He pressed his palms flat against the brick on either side of your head.

“I think,” his voice lowered, “that you subconsciously knew he wanted you, that you’ve always known, and that I would be angry at you going to meet him.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Heat flared in your lower abdomen and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. He was so close and you were so weak. 

“Why would I do that?” You managed to ask, though your voice was strained.

“Exactly,” Mithrun said, gravel in his tone. “Why would you do that?”

Curses ran through your mind. The one time you keep a secret from Mithrun, and it ends like this. You’re never doing that again. 

One of his hands left the wall and instead trailed up your waist, slow and savoring. His good eye flickered down to your neck and you had the urge to tilt your head as if to offer him a bite. The thought of him sinking his teeth into you, his body pressed against yours… You were on fire. 

Perhaps you might do this again, on occasion. It could be fun. 

The brick wall was cold on your back. Mithrun’s stare was colder. He leaned in, holding himself up against the wall with one hand, his other hand digging into your hips as if he wanted to sink his fingers through your skin and grip your bones. Harshly, he yanked you closer as his lips crashed against yours. He might’ve drawn a little blood with his teeth. You might’ve had the urge to melt into him. Your legs might’ve almost given out if he hadn’t held you up. 

The heat was consuming. Mithrun’s touch was rough, his kiss hard and laced with the intent to prove a very important point. Every inch of his being was focused on you in that moment. Every ounce of him was yours, and he was determined to prove that you were his in return. He broke the kiss but wasted no time in attacking your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin, teeth and lips scraping down the length and to the curvature where it was most sensitive. As you made an involuntary noise, his grip only tightened. 

And there it was, what you’d been waiting for. He sunk his teeth in. Heat pulsed through your body and you couldn’t help but gasp. You felt what might’ve been his lips upturning into a little smile against your neck. 

But Mithrun suddenly pulled away and blinked, and stared, and let out a soft exhale. The heat died like water dousing a flame. You stared back. He didn’t look ruffled in the least. His cheeks were pale as always, his eyes dull. The only sign that you’d been kissing was the light sheen on his lips. Meanwhile, you were a complete mess. You could only guess how you looked at that moment. Judging by how his eye flickered up and down your body, it was probably a sight. 

Mithrun pulled back. He stood up straight and walked away casually. 

“Where–” the words lodged in your throat and you had to force them out, “Where’re you going?”

He raised a hand as he walked, “The butcher actually is having a sale on pork. I need to get some before he closes.”

Without him to hold you up, you slowly sunk to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. 

No more secrets, you decided, feeling especially dead inside as you stared at a nearby crate. No more secret keeping. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[cherryyluvs]

꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡ I loved the batman reader one your so talented! If you don't mind would you do a joker reader? Like skills like the joker, crazy like the joker maybe this reader has their own version of Harley Quinn but doesn't love them and they get obsessed with mark idk full free to ignore I don't wanna bother 😭🙏🏽 also fun fact joker in one of the animated shows used to wear heels so you do what you want with that info. Can it also be male reader to if you don't do that that's okay but overall I love your work, and drink lots of water 🌊

Thank you so much for the kind words! I’m really glad you liked the Batgirl reader one! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ I love the idea of a Joker-like reader and i made it gender netrual, hope you dont mind!

Cecil had been keeping tabs on the situation for a while now. This new mysterious person, Joker.

Midnight City had seen its fair of madness, but you? Oh you were something different, something even Darkwing was struggling to handle. So much that Cecil had to send Mark in.

“Are you serious? Mark snapped, arms crossed. “You want me to work with him? The guy who got away with murdering people?”

Cecil sighed, rubbing his temples. “This isn’t about your issues with Darkwing, Mark this is about them” He slid a file across the table, a collection of grainy photos showing that wide grin of yours. “They call themselves The Joker – which I may say is stupid name but here we are.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed. The image of you, your manic grin, burning buildings in the background. Sent a shiver up his spine. “They're causing that much of a problem?”

“They are completely unpredictable,” Cecil continued. “Darkwing has been trying to keep them contained, but let's just say.. It's not going so great.”

“So why send me? Mark questioned, suspicion creeping in on him. “You have other people for this. Hell, let Darkwing deal with it.”

“I'm not asking you to like it” Cecil responded, voice firm. “He needs help and you're the best option. It's not just some street level thug we’re dealing with. This person is chaos incarnate”

Mark slammed his hands against the wooden table. “Fine. But I'm not going easy on Darkwing and if he steps out of line. I'm not backing him up.”

When Mark arrived in Midnight City, it felt like he stepped into an entirely different world. The city, always in darkness, seemed heavier tonight. As if the shadows themselves were watching him. He met up with Darkwing on a rooftop, standing across from each other. “You've got some nerve” Mark said, glaring at Darkwing. “Working with you, after all the people you killed?”

Darkwing’s mask hid his expression, his voice cold “I don't have time for your moral lecture right now. We’ve got bigger problems. And if you want to stand on a soapbox while the city burns, be my guest.”

“Let's just finish this mission,” Mark muttered.

⸝⸝

Your obsession didn't start immediately, you've heard of invincible before. You were curious at first. The way he fought, the way he held back even when he had enough power to crush a person's head in his hands.

‘Mark’ was his name, how did you find out? You've been playing cat and mouse with Darkwing for months. The way he moved and worked, you even listened when muttered into his little communicator.

Eavesdropped on his grumpy little conversations with Cecil.

One night, after yet again another failed attempt to capture you. Darkwing slipped up “Mark should have handled this from the start” he grumbled under his breath, thinking you were too far to hear.

Oh-ho-ho~ Who’s this mark? It wasn't hard to put the pieces together.

A little digging here and a little breaking and entering into some GDA files. Man, Cecil really needed to toughen up his security.

And just like that, you had found a name.

Mark Grayson. It rolled off the tongue so nicely, didn't it?

⸝⸝

When you met Mark, you made sure it was grand, a charity gala. Packed with people completely oblivious to what was about to unfold. You crashed the party.

Quire literally.

A well placed explosive gadget sent the chandelier crashing to the floor. Screams erupting as people ran, you walked in through the chaos, humming as flames erupted.

And then? There he was.

Invincible.

“Oh? I just wanted to see the boy wonder myself” you clapped your hands together. “Let’s see if you're good as they say.”

Mark didn't hesitate, flying straight towards you.

But you? You avoided him effortlessly, the click of your heels as you spun away.

Your combat skills are chaotic, blend of acrobatics, agility, and unpredictability. All in high heels too. There wasn't really a technique, just an utter disregard for your own well being.

“Tsk, tsk, so aggressive! Where's the fun in that?” Mark swung again, you ducked giggling as you twirled behind him. “Oh, pretty boy, you're precious.”

“Tell me” tapping his chest with your finger.

“Are you here to stop me? Or are you here because you're curious?”

His jaw clenched. “Shut up”

“Hit a nerve did i?” you grinned, leaning in close. “Tell me Mark.. when you look at me, do you see a problem, to fix? Or do you see something more.. Interesting?”

He then hit you.

And oh darling, that was when you felt it. The raw, barely contained power behind his fist. The heat in his glare. Frustration dripping from his words when told you to stay down.

Oh, sweetheart, how could you not fall in love?

That stupid smile of yours never left your face, Mark hated that look.

It wasn't fear nor anger.

It was delight.

That was dangerous.

As if things were not complicated enough, you had your own little tag along, devoted, lovesick shadow. Who hung off of every word you said, makeup smeared, and their very own existence revolving around you. Except.. Something was off.

When they came to your rescue , cooing your name. You looked downright bored.

They giggled. Pressing close “Oh, Joker, you're so amazing! Tell me what to do next, to make you happy!”

But you? You just signed, pushing them off you with an unimpressed wave. “Ugh, please, spare the dramatics.”

Mark brows furrowed. “You don't even like them do you?”

Your smile widened “Oh i love them! The same with a cat loves playing with its food” You stared at him, voice a whisper. “But you? You're the real fun.”

Mark felt a shiver down his spine.

Cecil was frustrated, Darkwing getting more aggressive. Mark? He was pissed.

“You have to take them seriously Mark” Darkwing warned after another failed attempt to take you down.

Mark ran his hand through his hair. “I am taking them seriously!”

Darkwing shook his head. “Then why haven't you stopped them?”

Mark clenched his fist

Because stopping you meant playing into your game. Because everytime he hit you, you laughed. The more he resisted , the more you wanted.

And maybe.. Just maybe you were starting to get under his skin.

Mark may never fully understand you, you'll always be a challenge, a dangerous puzzle that he can't solve no matter what. The obsession is there and it may never fully go, and though you may be beyond redemption. Mark hopes – just for a second that there's a chance for you to snap out of it.

Cecil was right.

Darkwing had been right.

You weren't just another villain. You weren't just some threat that could be beaten down and forgotten.

You were a problem.

And the worst part?

Mark had a feeling that this was only the beginning.

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART NINE ♡

paige x azzi

warnings: panic attack

word count: 5k

A/N: This chapter was a little sad to write but I liked detailed I was able to get with Paige's feelings . If you didn't see my post earlier I'm not sure where I'm going from here yet with this story. This might be one of the last chapters with like an epilogue or something but idk fully yet. Please let me know what you think and leave live reactions and comments if you can! Hope everyone had a nice holiday 😊

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Mid February 2024

Paige stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The weight of it all felt unbearable. Her mind churned with a constant noise—comments, critiques, expectations, all bouncing off the walls of her head. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. Each day was a new round of judgment, and she was so tired no matter how much she tried to hide it. 

It was February, and UConn had only lost two games this season, but both had come with a heavy cost. The media storm that followed each loss made it feel like the world was spinning just a little bit too fast, dragging her along with it. Geno’s contradicting criticisms were always looming. She was too passive one game, too aggressive the next, but always too something. She shot too much, didn’t shoot enough, forced too many shots. Every mistake, every misstep, every decision, was held under a microscope, dissected and discussed endlessly.

Paige’s breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at herself in the mirror, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The scoreboard in her mind was relentless. If she didn’t get at least 25, if she didn’t clearly dominate the game, she wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that she was impacting the game in other ways—her assists, her defense, her leadership, her mere gravity on the court. None of that seemed to matter. Only the numbers in the point column.

The pressure was suffocating. No matter how many hours she spent perfecting her game, it was never enough.

Every morning, the first thought in her head wasn’t about the game ahead—it was about the headlines, the tweets, the messages people were sending. Every night, she lay awake replaying her mistakes, wondering how she could have done more. What if she’d pushed harder, passed differently, shot better? What if she had been more aggressive? The question haunted her like a shadow, chasing her down until she couldn’t tell where the doubt ended and she began.

The whispers were always there—people talking about her, criticizing her, claiming she wasn’t the player they thought she should be, the player she used to be. Even her own coach had joined the chorus of voices pointing out her flaws. She could feel the eyes on her during every practice, every game. Everyone was waiting for her to fall, to break under the pressure.

And sometimes, Paige felt like she might.

Azzi slowly noticed it over time. Paige had been quieter than usual during practice, a little more withdrawn in her celebrations, a little more distant. When they were on the court together, Azzi could see the way Paige was moving—slower, as if every step took more energy than the last. She was still putting in the work everyday, but it wasn’t the same. Her confidence, her usual fire, seemed dimmed. Azzi knew Paige well enough to recognize the signs.

So after a seemingly difficult practice for Paige one day, when the gym was nearly empty and the others were gathering their things, Azzi caught up with Paige. She stood in front of her, blocking her path to the locker room, her eyes soft but insistent.

"Paige," Azzi said, her voice gentle but firm. "What’s going on?"

"I’m fine Az," Paige muttered, her tone a little flat.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, especially considering her girlfriend's tone with her. She took a step closer, closing the distance between them.

"You’re not fine," she said quietly, her voice threaded with concern. "You’re putting on a mask, but you know I can see through it."

Paige hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her, the concern there in the way she was looking at her, but for some reason, the words felt stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit how bad it was lately, how much it was all eating away at her.

"I don’t know," Paige said quietly, her voice laced with frustration, a vulnerability she wasn’t used to showing. "It’s just... everything’s too much right now. The pressure. The expectations. I feel like I’m drowning, Azzi. I can’t keep up."

Azzi's heart twisted as she took a step closer, her hand reaching out to gently grasp Paige's arm. "Talk to me, baby," Azzi said softly, her voice full of warmth and care. "You know you’re not in this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, you can share it with me."

Paige let out a shaky breath, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. She could feel the walls she’d built around herself start to crack, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wanted to let them fall. She wanted everyone to see everything—the weight of it all, the suffocating pressure she couldn’t escape. She wanted everyone to see just how bad they had made her feel. 

"I just... I don’t know how to do this anymore Az," Paige admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I’m never enough. The media’s on me, Geno’s on me, even our own damn fans are on me, everyone has something to say, and I feel like I’m constantly failing. If I don’t score 25, if I’m not the one carrying the team every game, it’s like I’m invisible. Like I’m not good enough."

Azzi’s gaze softened even more as she took Paige’s hands in her own, her thumbs brushing over her skin with a soothing touch. "Paige, baby" she said gently, lifting Paige’s chin to meet her eyes. "You are always more than enough. I see everything you’re doing on the court—how you’re leading, how you’re supporting your teammates. You’re making an impact in ways that go beyond just points on the board. And I know how hard you’re working. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise."

The emotion in Paige’s chest bubbled up, the weight of Azzi’s words landing on her like a balm. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that the things her girlfriend said were true. But it was hard to let go of all the voices in her head. It was hard to not think Azzi was just being a supportive girlfriend. 

"I don’t know how to quiet my head," Paige said softly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "How do I keep going when it feels like nothing’s ever enough?"

Azzi pulled her into a gentle hug then, holding her close, her arms wrapping around Paige like a safe haven. "You don’t have to do it alone baby," Azzi murmured into her ear, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m right here, every step of the way.”

Paige buried her face in Azzi’s shoulder, letting the tears fall freely now with no one else in the gym, no longer holding them back. She didn’t have it in here to be strong right now. She didn’t have it in her to be Uconn’s golden girl right now.

…

But then Uconn almost lost another game. Keyword being almost. 

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around Paige as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She had been here a few times before, locked in this dark space, trying to silence the voices in her head, but today felt different. It was harder to breathe, harder to push through.

The game had ended with a win. UConn had won by 11 points, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. Not when you were the star. Not when everyone expected perfection. Geno had praised her performance, sure, but there was always that hint of disappointment in his voice—more could have been done. More passes. More assists. Fewer contested shots because that won’t help in March.

Paige felt like she could feel the media’s eyes on her the entire game, their cameras flashing with judgment as they pounced on every flaw, no matter how small. The fans, too, had their say—complaining that she should have dropped 30 points on an unranked team, that she was being passive and deferring too much to other players. She knew they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see what was really happening on the court, the way she was trying to balance it all, the way she was doing everything she could to make her teammates shine, to get everyone involved.

But none of that mattered. Not to them.

Paige sat on the floor of the suite, back against the wall, feeling like she was shrinking into herself. She knew better than to get sucked into social media. Azzi had told her, warned her to delete it all, to stop looking at the constant stream of opinions from strangers. But here she was, scrolling through her feed, eyes filling with tears as she read each comment, each demand for more, as if she wasn’t already giving everything she had even if it was slowly killing her. 

She let out a shaky breath, biting down on her lip, trying to hold the tears at bay. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure kept building, the anxiety squeezing around her chest, making it harder to breathe. Paige put her phone down with trembling hands, the weight of it all sinking in, her head pounding with the noise in her mind.

Unable to stop herself, she softly banged the back of her head against the wall a few times, willing the thoughts to stop swirling. 

Why wasn’t it enough? Why couldn’t she just be allowed to have a good game, a solid performance, without the world tearing it apart? Why did every win feel like a loss when the criticism outweighed the praise? 

The tears finally came then, falling freely down her face as she sat there, trying to get a grip on her spiraling thoughts. The walls felt like they were slowly closing in, and she couldn’t stop the fear that was creeping into her chest. The fear that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough. That one day, the pressure would break her. That she would fall off the face of the Earth and everything for everyone else would keep spinning. 

She hated feeling weak, hated how powerless she felt in this moment. Not being in control. But she just tried to hold onto the thought of Azzi still in her mind, a small thread of comfort in the chaos. Azzi would understand. Azzi always did.

The room felt so empty without her. The silence was suffocating, the isolation almost too much to bear. Each breath Paige tried to take felt shallow, and the harder she focused on her breathing, the more it seemed to slip away. The more difficult it became. Panic was creeping in, like a hand pressing down on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

She could physically feel all of it—the weight of the expectations, the constant pressure to be perfect. Each thought, each criticism, each word from the media felt like it was wrapping itself around her throat, making it harder to breathe.

She knew she should call Azzi, to try to force some words out so her girlfriend knew how much she needed her. But her phone lay discarded beside her and Paige couldn’t bring herself to look at it. She knew the messages, the comments, that she would unlock her phone to would only make it worse. Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t stop it. Every time she tried to focus her thoughts, to breathe deeply, to imagine Azzi the panic only tightened its grip.

Then the door clicked open, pulling her back from the edge for just a moment. Paige’s heart tried to catch up knowing who it was, but the breath still wouldn’t come.

Azzi froze when she saw Paige, sitting on the floor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. It only took a second for Azzi to drop her bag and throw her phone on the bed before rushing over. She didn’t hesitate, kneeling in front of Paige, taking her face in her hands. Paige couldn’t look at her, her breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

"Paige," Azzi’s voice was gentle, but firm. "Look at me."

But Paige couldn’t. She was shaking, struggling, trapped in the chaos of her mind. Azzi saw it instantly—this wasn’t just sadness this time. This was another panic attack.

"Hey, hey, listen to me," Azzi said softly, her fingers brushing along Paige’s cheek, trying to steady her. "Breathe, baby. You’re okay."

Azzi’s own breaths were deep, slow, as she began to count, trying to guide Paige through the chaos. "In... one, two, three..." she counted, her voice low but steady. "Exhale... one, two, three..."

Paige’s chest heaved, her breaths sharp and ragged. She tried to focus on Azzi’s voice, but everything felt distant, blurry and out of reach.

"Come on, breathe with me," Azzi whispered, gently urging her. "In... one, two, three..." She let the air out slowly, counting as she did. "Exhale... one, two, three."

Paige’s body trembled, and Azzi could feel the weight of her distress, her panic. But she kept her voice calm, breaking each sentence into short, steady breaths.

"You’re safe," Azzi said, her thumb gently tracing over Paige’s skin. "I’m here. Breathe with me baby."

Paige’s breaths came in short, gasping bursts, still out of rhythm. She tried to follow Azzi’s lead, but each time she focused on her breath, it slipped further away.

"In... two, three," Azzi counted, her voice never wavering. "Exhale... two, three. You’re okay. I love you. I’m here."

Paige’s hands shook as she clutched at her chest, fighting for air. "I can’t... Azzi..." she gasped, her voice barely audible. She was drowning in the overwhelming pressure, feeling like she was finally losing the battle.

"You can," Azzi whispered, her own breath deepening as she counted. "In... one, two, three... Exhale... one, two, three." She leaned closer, her forehead gently resting against Paige’s. "Focus on me. You’re doing great. In, out. In, out."

The air in the room seemed to thicken, but slowly, Paige’s breathing began to soften. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. The frantic gasps slowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, steadier now.

Azzi didn’t stop. She kept her hand on Paige’s face, gently coaxing her. "You’re so amazing, baby. You’re so strong. You’re so perfect."

Each breath they took together was a small step, and with every inhale, Paige felt the panic loosen its grip, just a little. Her hands stopped shaking as much, her body less rigid. Azzi’s voice was still steady, counting each breath, reassuring her.

"Good," Azzi said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "That’s it. You’re okay now. Just breathe with me."

Paige’s breath was slower now, the panic starting to fade, replaced with exhaustion. She looked up at Azzi, her eyes filled with gratitude, but there was still a trace of vulnerability in her gaze.

Azzi smiled softly, her thumb brushing across Paige’s cheek. "I’m here," she whispered again, as though to remind Paige that she wasn’t alone. "I promise you’re never alone."

The storm hadn’t completely passed, but in that moment, with Azzi’s arms around her and her steady presence grounding her, Paige felt like she could breathe again.

After a few minutes of quiet, Azzi didn’t speak. She simply stood up and took Paige’s hand, gently guiding her towards the bathroom. Paige let herself be led, her body feeling light but exhausted, her mind still clouded and heavy. She felt empty, drained, but Azzi was there—her steady hand, her calm presence, like a lifeline in the chaos.

Azzi helped Paige undress. Paige didn’t protest, too worn out to resist, too overwhelmed to think about anything beyond the comfort Azzi was offering. When Azzi took off her own clothes and stepped into the shower with Paige, there was no rush, no urgency, just a quiet understanding between them as they sat in silence for a little bit.

Azzi began undoing Paige’s two braids softly as she kissed her girlfriends cheek or neck now and then. She then reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before gently massaging it into Paige’s wet hair. The warm water cascaded down over them, mingling with the steam, but all Paige could focus on was the soothing pressure of Azzi’s fingers against her scalp. Slowly, the tension in her body began to melt away. She leaned into Azzi, letting her eyes close as she rested her head on her shoulders, the simple act of being cared for grounding her even further.

Azzi didn’t say anything, her hands working methodically, rinsing the shampoo from Paige’s hair before applying conditioner. The quiet was comforting, the sound of water and Azzi’s soft hum in Paige’s ear were the only things filling the space.

When Azzi finished rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, Paige finally opened her eyes, meeting Azzi’s gaze. Azzi’s eyes softened, filled with a tenderness Paige couldn’t quite put into words. Her love for Paige was clear in the way she looked at her—gentle, unwavering, and so full of admiration.

Paige’s throat tightened, but she whispered, “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, but full of gratitude.

Azzi smiled, her thumb lightly grazing Paige’s cheek as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I told you, no matter what, I’m always in your corner and I’m going to help you get through this.” 

The words settled into Paige’s chest. She wasn’t alone. Azzi was there, always there.

Without thinking, Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her close. The water hit them both, but neither of them cared. They stood there, their bodies pressed together, holding each other in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

…

Steam lingered in the air as Paige stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her damp hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The soft shuffle of Azzi’s movements drew her attention to the bed, where Azzi had just sat cross-legged, a comb in one hand and two hair ties in the other.

"Come here," Azzi said softly, patting the space in front of her.

Paige raised an eyebrow, but the gentle look in Azzi’s eyes pulled her forward. She settled on the floor, her back to Azzi, who immediately began threading her fingers through Paige’s damp hair.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the faint sound of the comb gliding through Paige’s hair. Azzi broke the silence, her voice gentle. "You wanna tell me what’s been on your mind tonight?"

Paige was silent, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. She bit her bottom lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the words. "I just... I don’t know what people want from me anymore," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi paused briefly, her hands stilling before resuming their steady rhythm. "What do you mean?"

"It’s like..." Paige hesitated, trying to find the words. "It’s not about basketball anymore. Every game, every move—it’s a story for someone else to tell. I can’t stop thinking about what people are gonna say after every game, and it’s exhausting."

Azzi hummed softly as she began parting Paige’s hair for the braids. "Do you think about that while you’re playing?"

Paige nodded, her voice small. "Sometimes. It’s like... the game isn’t just the game anymore. There’s so much pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, and it makes it hard to just... enjoy it. To be in the moment."

Azzi gently tugged one section of hair, starting the first braid. "Paige, baby, you’ve been playing basketball your whole life. You didn’t fall in love with it because of what other people thought. You fell in love with it because it made you happy.”

"I know," Paige said, her voice wavering slightly. "But it’s hard not to care when there’s so many expectations. It’s like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough for me to just get one day of silence. And I just don’t want to let anyone down."

Azzi’s hands worked steadily as she braided, her voice calm but firm. "You can’t control what people think or say, no matter how hard you try so we gotta let that part go. But you can control remembering why you play. You don’t owe anyone anything, Paige—not the fans, not the critics, not even me baby. You play this game for you and only you. 

Paige was quiet for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweats. "It’s just hard to block it all out sometimes."

"I know it is," Azzi said softly, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. "But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’ve handled so much already, you’ve been through so much already and you’re still here, still fighting. That’s what matters."

Paige glanced over her shoulder, a small smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. "When did you get so wise?"

Azzi grinned, focused on finishing the second braid. "I’ve always been this wise. You’re just quiet enough for the first time to actually pay attention."

Paige chuckled, leaning into Azzi’s touch as she tied off the braid. Azzi ran her fingers over the finished work, smoothing down stray hairs before giving Paige’s shoulder a light squeeze.

"There," Azzi said, standing up and heading to the corner of the room to grab her basketball shoes. "Now, let’s go."

Paige blinked, looking at her with clear confusion on her face. "What? Go where?"

"The gym," Azzi said matter-of-factly, sliding her feet into some slides

Paige stared at her in disbelief. "Az, we just played an entire game and just got out of the shower. You’re crazy." 

Azzi smirked, tossing Paige’s shoes onto the floor beside her. "Come on, Superstar. I’m not asking."

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the carpet. "I picked a crazy person to be my girlfriend," she muttered, though a small grin tugged at her lips.

Azzi stepped closer, brushing a playful kiss against Paige’s temple. "Definitely, thought that was in the fine print though."

With a dramatic sigh, Paige sat up, slipping on her shoes and tying them lazily. "You’re lucky you’re cute," she grumbled as she followed Azzi out the door to her car. 

…

The gym was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as Paige and Azzi switched into their basketball shoes. Paige stood near the baseline, watching Azzi lace up her sneakers with an amused expression.

Azzi grabbed a basketball from the rack, dribbling it once before tossing it to Paige. "Check."

Paige caught the ball, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. "What are we doing?"

Azzi, already standing at the three point line, grinned. "We’re playing one-on-one."

Paige scoffed, spinning the ball lazily in her hands. "No, we’re not."

Azzi tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What, scared you’ll lose?"

Paige rolled her eyes, her competitive spirit sparking lightly at Azzi’s accusation. "First of all, I don’t lose one-on-one. Second, I definitely wouldn’t lose to my girlfriend."

Azzi smirked. "Then prove it. Play me. Otherwise I’ll just tell everyone you were scared."

Paige muttered something incoherent under her breath before lazily checking the ball back to Azzi.

Azzi immediately took advantage of Paige’s relaxed posture, going into a quick jumper from behind the arc. The ball arching beautifully through the air and swishing through the net.

"2-0," Azzi announced, her smirk widening.

Paige groaned, grabbing the ball. "Alright, that’s real cute."

When Paige checked the ball this time, she pressed a hand firmly against Azzi’s hip, cutting off her space. Azzi tried to drive left, but Paige stuck with her, their bodies brushing as they collided. Azzi pivoted, stepping back into a mid-range jumper that kissed the front of the rim before bouncing in.

"3-0," Azzi teased, grinning. "You’re looking a little slow tonight, P. You tired?"

"Yeah?" Paige’s voice dripped with mock sweetness as she checked the ball again. Azzi tried to hit another step back but it bounded off the rim. 

They checked the ball and Paige jab-stepped to her left, forcing Azzi to shift her weight, then crossed over and exploded to the basket with a quick step. Azzi stayed close, but Paige used her body to shield the ball, finishing with a layup off the glass. 

"3-1," Paige said, flashing a smug grin.

Azzi grabbed the ball, her competitive spirit ignited even though this was supposed to be about Paige. As they continued to play, their movements grew sharper and more physical. Paige backed Azzi down on one possession, bumping her with her shoulder before spinning for a fadeaway jumper. Azzi countered by cutting through the lane with a quick first step, using her speed to slip past Paige for an easy floater.

The teasing never stopped.

"Didn’t know I signed up for wrestling practice," Azzi quipped after Paige body-checked her on a drive.

"Yeah yeah," Paige shot back. "You’re not getting past me again."

Azzi grinned. "Oh, I’m passing you right now." She immediately drove left, brushing past Paige’s hip as she hooked her slightly and finishing with a reverse layup that left Paige shaking her head.

The game became more intense with each possession. Azzi swatted one of Paige’s layup attempts, the ball flying out of bounds. Paige groaned.

"You’ve never done that in your life" Paige said, narrowing her eyes as she retrieved the ball.

"First time for everything," Azzi replied, standing tall and grinning.

Paige responded by hitting a deep three-pointer, holding her follow-through for much longer than necessary as the ball sailed through the hoop. "9-8," Paige said, her smirk confident.

On the next possession, she used a quick hesitation move to fake Azzi out of position, draining another jumper.

As the score climbed, so did the tension. The gym felt warmer, their breaths coming faster, their earlier shower completely undone by the sweat dripping down their faces. Every drive and every block brought them closer, their bodies brushing and colliding in ways that blurred the lines between competition and something more.

At one point, Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s waist as she pivoted for a shot, and Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she smirked, leaning in slightly as she jab-stepped.

"You getting distracted on me?" Paige teased, her voice low.

" Nope," Azzi fired back, though her flushed cheeks suggested otherwise.

Eventually they were tied at 17, both breathing heavily as they sized each other up. Paige had the ball tucked against her hip, her gaze locked on Azzi.

"What do I get when I win?" Paige asked, her tone playful but laced with a hint of something more.

Azzi’s eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a smile. "You’re not going to win."

Paige chuckled, her confidence unshaken. "Guess we’ll see."

She dribbled slowly, luring Azzi to sleep on defense before hitting her with a fast combo move before she drove hard to the basket, finishing with a finger roll that danced around the rim before dropping in.

"18-17," Paige said, smirking as she checked the ball. "Told you, I don’t lose."

It was Azzi’s ball again and once she caught the ball back from Paige, she stepped back, shooting a quick three-pointer that hit nothing but the bottom of the net.

"19-18," Azzi said, mimicking Paige’s earlier tone. She smirked, stepping closer. "What am I getting when I win?"

Paige grinned, walking up to Azzi until they were nearly nose to nose. “A little something to remind you how giving I can be.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing. "You’re full of it."

The game continued, both of them refusing to give an inch to the other but finally Paige ended it with a three that rattled in after she hit Azzi with a hesi pullup. 

"That’s game," Paige said, her voice triumphant as she grabbed her water bottle.

Azzi was smiling as she sipped from her own bottle, her grin unusually big. Paige noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You do know you just lost, right?"

Azzi kept smiling, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. "Yeah," she said softly. "But you weren’t thinking about anything else besides this game, were you?"

Paige blinked, her grin softening as realization hit her. For the first time in a while, she hadn’t been consumed by the weight of everyone’s expectations and opinions of how she was playing. She’d just been... playing.

"Huh," Paige said, her voice quieter. "I guess not."

Azzi smirked, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "See? I told you I’d help."

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s, but before she could close the gap, Azzi stepped back with a mischievous grin.

"Nah," Azzi said, grabbing her water bottle and bag. "I’m a sore loser. You don’t get a kiss after beating me."

Paige laughed. "The winner’s supposed to get something."

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dipping into a sultry tone. "Oh? Is that what you want from me baby?"

Paige nodded, her smile growing as she stepped closer, but Azzi turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"You gotta work for it," Azzi called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with playful challenge as she walked away.

Paige stood there, dumbfounded, watching her girlfriend’s retreating figure. Despite everything she’d been feeling earlier, all the negativity and doubt, Azzi had completely unraveled it and left nothing but the Paige who loved to play basketball more than anything.

"Wait!" Paige called after her, grinning. "So, I’m really not getting any tonight?"

Azzi turned, walking backward as her smirk deepened. "Maybe," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "But like I said you gotta work for it P."

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she jogged after her, a lightness settling in her chest. She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face, her eyes fixed on Azzi.

"Thank the gods," Paige muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a mix of humor and adoration, "and every single heaven above for Azzi Fudd."

The thought made her laugh softly to herself as she caught up, ready to follow wherever Azzi led her next.

[st4rfckerz]

Run | Negan x reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mdni 18+, noncon, unprotected sex, implied age gap, negan’s gross ofc, dddne

summary: after surviving another lineup, negan decides to have a little fun with you

Negan smirked as he observed all the frightened faces before him as he moved up and down the line. He'd been having problems with Rick's group for some time, and it was time to deal with it.

After attempting to fight earlier in the night, you were now exhausted, bloodied and broken. Your knees ached from staying in the same position for what felt like hours.

Negan watched as Rick completed the shocking task he had ordered, a grim smile spreading across his face. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction seeing the once proud leader of this community brought so low. Turning away from the pitiful sight, Negan's eyes found you, kneeling amidst the crowd of terrified survivors.

Negan's grin widens, revealing a glint of cruel amusement in his eyes as he sees the fear etched into your features. He takes a step closer, the tip of his bat tapping gently under your chin to tilt your head back further.

“You know, I've got to hand it to you sweetheart, you've got somethin’. Most girls would be blubbering like babies by now, pissing themselves begging for their mama.” He leans in, hot breath washing over your face as he speaks in a low, almost tender tone that sends shivers down your spine. “But not you. No, you've got...spunk. I like that.”

Negan's free hand reaches out, calloused fingers brushing a stray curl behind your ear in an almost gentle gesture. The contrast between his rough touch and the tender action makes your heart race.

“Tell you what, sweetheart...you be a good girl and do exactly as I say. No funny business. And maybe, just maybe, you won't end up like that little shithead over there.” He jerks his head towards Rick, still trying to recover from being beat down.

Negan's eyes narrow as he points Lucille towards the dark woods behind you, a sinister glint in his gaze. “Now, I want you to get that cute little ass of yours movin'.” He takes a step back, giving you room to stand, but keeping the bat trained on you.

As you rise on shaky legs, Negan's eyes rake over your form, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You've got a real pretty walk too. Nice and slow, sweetheart. Don't make me tell you twice.”

He points towards the tree line, indicating for you to start walking away from the group. The night is pitch black beyond the flickering light of the campfire, the sounds of the forest, the rustling of leaves, the distant hoots of owls— taking on an almost ominous quality.

After a short distance, he suddenly stops, grabbing your arm in a vice-like grip. “Here we are.” He turns to face you, his features obscured by the shadows.

“Listen up, because I'm only gonna say this once. You've got exactly five minutes to run, sweetheart. Five minutes to hide. And if I find you…”

He lets the threat hang in the air, his grip on your arm tightening for a moment before he releases you with a rough shove. “Better start runnin' now, darlin'. Your time's a tickin'.”

With that, he steps back, melting into the shadows. The darkness engulfs him, but you can still feel his presence, the weight of his gaze on your back as he watches you.

Negan's voice cuts through the darkness, sharp and commanding. “Go!” At the sound of his bark, you spring into action, your legs pumping as you race through the underbrush. The trees loom over you, their gnarled branches reaching out like claws in the shadows. The air is thick with the scent of earth and decay, the dampness clinging to your skin. Behind you, the sound of Negan's footsteps fades for a moment, only to be replaced by an unsettling silence. The absence of his pursuit is almost more terrifying than the knowledge of his chase. It leaves you wondering if he's closing in on you from a different direction, lying in wait to ambush you in the darkness.

You stumble over a fallen log, your hands scraping against the rough bark as you catch yourself. The pain shoots through your palms, but you barely register it, too consumed by the fear coursing through your veins.

After allowing you a brief head start, Negan begins to leisurely walk in the direction you fled, a wicked grin spreading across his face, revealing the deep dimples that would be charming on any other man.

It's not long before you start to hear his mocking calls echoing through the dark forest, your heart clenching with dread at the sound of his voice drawing closer.

Negan's voice rings out, dripping with false cheer. “You can't hide from me, sweetheart. I'm gonna find you, no matter how far you run.” He pauses, listening for a moment. A branch snaps somewhere in the distance, and his lips curl into a smirk.

In a panic, you spot an old, abandoned truck nestled between two large oak trees, its rusted metal frame blending in with the dark foliage. Seeing an opportunity for a hiding spot, you quickly and quietly make your way towards it, your heart pounding in your ears. As you approach the truck, you notice that the driver's side door is slightly ajar. Holding your breath, you ease the door open just enough for you to slip inside, the hinges creaking softly in protest. You tumble into the cab, landing hard on the dusty, cracked leather seat.

You curl up in the tight space, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The musty smell of old upholstery and motor oil fills your nostrils as you hold your breath, listening intently for any sign of Negan's approach. Then, you hear it. The crunch of dead leaves and twigs beneath heavy boots, growing louder and closer with each passing second. He's getting closer, circling around the abandoned truck like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“You know, I thought you’d be a lot smarter,” You hold your breath as you hear his voice, squeezing your eyes shut as if that could somehow make you invisible. “But this— this is just pitiful.” Negan's footsteps stop abruptly just outside the old truck, and you hear him speak again.

“You gonna come out?” The silence stretches on for what feels like an eternity, your heart hammering against your ribs. He waits another beat, as if expecting an answer. When none comes, he lets out a low, dark chuckle. “No? Alright.”

With a sudden, violent motion, he swings the truck door open, the rusted metal screeching in protest. The door slams against the inside of the cab, and you flinch, pressing yourself back against the far side of the seat.

“There she is.” Negan's tall frame fills the doorway, his silhouette stark against the faint moonlight behind him. He leans in, his head cocked to the side as he peers into the dark interior of the truck cab. “Come on, don't make this difficult.” Negan's hand suddenly closes around your wrist in an iron grip, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. Before you can react, he's wrenching you out of the cab, your body tumbling onto the hard-packed dirt and dead leaves below. You land hard on your back, the breath knocked out of your lungs, your head spinning from the sudden movement.

He stands over you, his head tilted to the side, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Didn't I tell you not to make this difficult, sweetheart?” He takes a step closer, his boot hovering over your chest. For a terrifying moment, you think he might stomp down, crushing the air from your lungs. But instead, he presses the sole of his boot against your collarbone, pinning you to the ground.

You can't help but let out a soft, frightened whimper as Negan's boot presses down harder on your collarbone. The pressure makes it difficult to breathe, your lungs screaming for air. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you stare up at him, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.

“Poor, stupid little girl.” His tone is mocking, dripping with false sympathy. He grinds his heel down a little harder, and you gasp, your back arching off the ground as you try to ease the pressure.

Without warning, he removes his boot from your collarbone, only to roughly grab your shoulders, flipping your body over and slamming you down onto your stomach. You let out a yelp of pain and surprise, your hands scrabbling at the dirt as you try to push yourself up. But Negan is quicker, his knee pressing down hard on your lower back, pinning you in place.

You lie there, dazed and struggling to catch your breath, you feel Negan's rough hand groping and squeezing your ass through the fabric of your pants. You try to squirm away from his touch, but his knee pressing into your back keeps you firmly in place. Without warning, his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants and underwear. With a sharp tug, he yanks them down to your knees, exposing your bare skin to the chilly night air.

“I bet this pretty little pussy is just aching for a real man's touch, ain't it?” You whimper and try to clench your thighs together, but Negan just grinds his knee harder into your back, pinning you open and vulnerable. He pulls your arms behind your back, forcing your elbows to bend at an unnatural angle as he pins your hands to the small of your back. You cry out at the sudden pain, but the sound is muffled by the dirt beneath your cheek. Tears spring to your eyes as Negan leans down, his weight now fully pressing you into the cold, unforgiving ground.

You lie there helpless, your pants and underwear around your knees, Negan keeps your wrists pinned tightly behind your back with one large hand. With his other hand, he makes quick work of his belt buckle, the metal clinking loudly in the silent forest. Your eyes widen in fear and revulsion as he unbuckles his pants and shoves them down, along with his underwear, freeing his hardening cock.

“Been waitin’ to get my hands on you girly.” Negan growls. He grinds his hips forward, the head of his cock pushing against your entrance. You let out an anguished cry as Negan thrusts his hips forward, pushing your head against the cold, damp ground.

But even as you sob and beg him to stop, Negan feels your body beginning to betray you. Your once-tight, dry walls start to flutter and clench around his pistoning cock, growing slick with a reluctant, shameful arousal.

“You’re clenchin’ around me like you never want to let it go,” Negan taunts, his voice a low, dark rumble. “You're fucking loving this, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you.” you grit through your teeth. Negan just laughs, a dark, cruel sound that sends shivers down your spine. Your pleas only seem to spur him on, making him thrust into you with even more brutal force. The wet, obscene sound of your arousal fills the air as you take him, your cunt growing slicker with each passing second.

“Come onnn, don’t act like I haven’t seen the way you look at me when you think no one's watchin'," Negan sneers, his voice a low, cruel murmur in your ear as he continues his relentless assault. “You could’ve just asked.”

You cry out, your back arching as a intense, unwanted orgasm crashes over you. Your inner walls clench and spasm around Negan's pistoning shaft. He follows soon after you, hilting himself deep inside you, thick ropes of his cum paint your insides, flooding your already dripping cunt with his seed.

“Fuck, thaaat’s it.” Negan snarls, grinding his pelvis hard against your ass as he empties his heavy balls inside you. His pubic hair, matted with sweat and the combined fluids of your shared climax, presses against your sensitive skin.

After a long, humiliating moment, Negan finally pulls out, his spent cock slipping from your abused, dripping cunt with a quiet, wet plop. He takes a step back, tucking himself away and refastening his pants with casual, almost bored movements. You remain lying there on the cold ground, your legs splayed open, your pants still around your ankles. The night air feels icy on your exposed, sticky skin as the reality of what just happened sinks in. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, cutting trails through the dirt on your cheeks.

Negan looks down at your broken, used body sprawled in the dirt, a look of cruel satisfaction on his face. “I expect to see that pretty little face of yours in the morning,” he says, his tone almost conversational. With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you lying there in the dirt, half-naked, used, and utterly desecrated. The night closes in around you, the forest falling dreadfully silent once more.