#and now I leave again for another million years

[sinnabarmoth]

Broken Promises

Pairing: Rafayel x fem|Reader

Summary: Reader thinks that her relationship with Rafayel is a fling, some casual fun. Rafayel does not. So when he catches her flirting with other guys he is intent on making sure she knows that he did not wait 800 years to be a second choice.

Content warnings: Adult language. Hate fucking. Vaginal fingering. P in V.

Length: 5k

“Thank you for another fine day of work, miss bodyguard.”

You picked your head up from Rafayel’s shoulder and glared at him. 

“What’s that face for?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes and sat up, the blanket that had been covering you slipped down exposing your naked chest which Rafayel took no precautions in hiding his ogling. You grabbed his chin and forced his gaze back up to your face. “Do not start calling you tricking me into coming over as work. You know I thought you were in actual danger?”

He melted into your touch, resting his chin fully in your hand like an attention starved puppy. “I was in danger.”

“A teeny tiny spider is not dangerous.” You let him go, crossing your arms over your chest so his view was obstructed.

“Sure it is. Do you know how many tiny spiders are super venomous? Black widow. Brown recluse. Yellow sac spider.” he ticked them off one by one on his fingers.

“Mister fish facts has spider facts too. How fun.” You rolled out of bed and started grabbing your scattered clothes from the floor and pulling them back on. How the hell did your panties get on the lamp? Did he chuck them like he was pitching for the Linkon Lions?

“Do you have to leave?” Rafayel asked, sitting up to watch you move around the room.

“Sure I do. I have work in the morning.”

“I could take you to work in the morning.”

“And wear what? The clothes I was in when I rushed over here? No thanks.” You didn’t think Jenna would be happy to see you at work wearing your lilac sweats and fuzzy character socks.

“I could send someone to pick up an outfit from your house.”

You glanced at him as you pulled your shirt back on. “You are super clingy tonight. Something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong it’s just…” he was staring down at the rumpled sheets of the bed, smoothing out the creases around him, “you always leave so soon after.”

“Well unlike a certain artist, I have duties and errands to run and can’t spend all my day in bed or on the couch…or in the hot tub…or against the wall--”

“Yeah yeah, I get it. You have a million things more important than me.” he slumped back against the headboard. “I’ll just stay here and rot won’t I. Waiting for my bodyguard to come check on me when she feels like it. Who knows if I’ll be even still be alive when she deigns me worthy of her attention.”

“You are so dramatic. Remember that you tricked me into coming over here to squish a spider and then corralled me into the bedroom almost immediately after.” you plonked down on the bed next to him. “If you want me to come over cause you want to have sex then you can just say that. We’re both adults.”

“Takes all the romance out of it then.”

“Now you’re worried about being romantic?” you shook your head. “Will wonders never cease.”

His expression did not soften out of his pout. With a small sigh you scooted closer. “Hey, how about I stop by tomorrow to see you after work. Okay?”

He perked up at that. “Promise?”

“Yeah. I’ll buy us some chicken and we can put on a movie that we will probably abandon watching for some other fun.” You held out a pinky to him. “I promise.”

He looped his pinky finger around yours. “You made a vow. You can’t break it now.”

“You are racking up vows, aren’t you? First to never keep you waiting, now this. If this keeps up we’re gonna have to start writing down all the promises we make.” you teased and his face fell again. Oh no.

You gave a little tug on your intertwined fingers and pulled him closer, placing a quick kiss on his mouth. “There. A vow sealed with a kiss. Feel better?”

“Much.” he smiled softly at you. “See you tomorrow, cutie.”

~~~

The work day was a long and tedious one. You had spent nearly all day patrolling and ended up fighting a whole horde of Wanderers that had taken up in an abandoned warehouse. By the end of the day you were in desperate need of some relaxation and perhaps a stiff drink. So when Tara announced that everyone was going out for drinks after work to celebrate the impressive job you and the other hunters did on raiding the warehouse you were more than happy to come along.

You were two drinks deep and starting on a third. The stress of the day melted away, replaced with the warm fuzziness that was your buzz. Thank goodness it was the weekend so you didn’t need to worry about getting up early with the hangover you were working towards developing.

At some point a drinking game got started. There was a piece of paper that had every body’s name written on it. The point of the game was that if some flipped a coin and it landed on that person’s name they had to drink. If it landed on a blank space they got to write a rule until the paper was completely full.

Soon the paper was full of outlandish rules, each getting progressively more “creative” the longer you went on. It was your turn and you flipped the coin. You had been aiming for Nero’s name and ended up hitting the rule an inch below it. “Text the last person you messaged a bad selfie.”

You sighed but pulled out your phone and brought up the camera. You twisted your face into a funny and unflattering expression and went to your messages. You couldn’t remember the last person you texted and prayed it wasn’t someone embarrassing.

Please don’t be Zayne. Please don’t be Zayne. Please don’t be Zayne!

You let out a small breath of relief seeing that Zayne was not in fact at the top of your messages. Rafayel was. You opened the chat and sent the picture without any context.

You rolled your eyes at your co-worker’s laughter and resumed watching the others play the game. Yet, you could not focus entirely. It felt like you were forgetting something but you couldn’t remember what. Trying to think with your head awash in cocktails wasn’t exactly helping your memory. All your brain was coming up with was chickens.

Well, if you couldn’t remember it couldn’t have been that important.

You leaned over towards the person next to you, he was another hunter but you hadn’t spoken all that much since he wasn’t on Alpha Team. You weren’t sure of his name but maybe it was Jasper or Jordan. To be blunt there wasn’t anything remarkable about him but he did have a very nice face and a rather infectious laugh. His arm had been resting against the back of your chair but now settled on your shoulders.

“So,” you leaned closer to be heard over the music of the bar, “if you are a hunter I’m guessing you have a preference on which weapon you like using.”

“I do.” he said. “Do you want to know?”

“No. I’m gonna guess but first I need your hand.” you held your hand out for him.

“Okay.” he said with an easy smile and held his hand up. “Why?”

“Think of it as palm reading, but instead of telling your future I’m telling your preferred weapon.” you placed your palm against his. “Hmm, yes.” You nodded very seriously before linking your hands together. “It’s coming to me. With big strong hands like this, your preferred weapon is a claymore.”

He smirked at your flirting. “That is quite the talent you have. I do indeed prefer the claymore. After handling it for so long, throwing anything around whether it be light or heavy is a piece of cake.”

“I bet that comes in handy.”

“It sure does.” he tugged you closer. “It comes in very handy for many different…scenarios.”

You couldn’t tell if the heat in your face was from the drink or his implication but either way it made you feel tingly all over.

“So, what are you doing after this?” Jacob or Jasper asked, his face a mere breath away from yours.

You were yanked back so hard you almost tipped out of your chair completely. You scrambled to see who had grabbed you and saw Rafayel standing above you, a fistful of the back of your shirt in his hand. “You broke your promise.”

~~~

Rafayel had felt something was wrong when his alarm went off that told him your shift had ended and he didn’t hear anything from you. Then a half hour had passed and there had still been no word from you. Maybe you had gone home to change. He tried texting you but had gotten no response. Your battery was low, surely. That’s why you hadn’t texted back.

After an hour he had started pacing, more excuses for your absence filtering through his brain. You could have been picking up the chicken like you said and there was a long line. That had to be it.

Two hours went by. Was there traffic?

Three hours. Maybe there was a Wanderer attack. Were you okay?

He was about ready to go out looking for you when a message came through his phone. It was from you! He opened it expecting any number of excuses and apologies but instead it was just a picture. You were at some bar and were making a very stupid face at the camera. That wasn’t what had caught his attention though. It was the arm that was wrapped around you oh so casually. The pig it was attached to was leering at you in the top left corner of the shot.

Rafayel felt many emotions shoot through him in the span of five seconds of seeing your message. Relief. Confusion. Dejection. Anger. Then pure hot resentment.

You had broken your promise to him to go out to a bar with this scumbag that touched you so casually? No. This would not stand. He was going to go get you. He had to study the picture a bit more to figure out which bar you were at. Thankfully there was a cocktail napkin printed with the bar name on it within the shot.

He sped over as fast as he could and burst into the bar. His gaze swept over the bustling room until he saw a large group sitting near the back. You were among them and that pig from the picture was right next to you, his hand laced with yours and hunger in his eyes. He waited to see you pull away, to tell him to fuck off but you didn’t. You leaned in closer, batting your eyelashes and smiling at him in that way that teasing smirk that drew Rafayel crazy. That was meant for him! Why were you flirting with someone else! Why!

He had charged forward as your faces drew closer. No. He would not see you kiss someone else! He would not suffer that indignity tonight as well!

He grabbed the back of our shirt and pulled you swiftly away from the man. The thundering of his heart was pounding in his ears. “You broke your promise.” he seethed.

You blinked and he could see your brain trying to catch up. “Raf--what are--why are you here? Let go of me!”

“Not a chance.” he grabbed you underneath the armpits and pulled you out of your chair. “You have had enough to drink. We are going home.”

“Hey!” the pig stood up. “Who do you think you are? You can’t just take her.”

“She’s my girlfriend and she’s wasted, so I think I am more than justified in getting her out of this dive.” Rafayel started to drag you away. “Come on.”

He dragged you out to the car despite your protests and shoved you into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt for you. Once you were in the car a lot of the fight went out of you. He shoved a water bottle at you and told you to drink as much as you could. When you didn’t oblige he stayed glaring at you until you had swallowed the whole thing. Then he pulled out another and told you to keep drinking. “I need you sober. So keep hydrating.”

By the time Rafayel had gotten back to his house you had drank another full bottle of water and the glassy sheen of drunkenness was ebbing away. The anger and pain his chest was still boiling but he kept his mouth clamped shut until you were inside.

For what felt like forever you stood in the foyer, looking everywhere but at him and not saying a word. When you dared to meet his gaze again he noticed you flinch as guilt shot through you. “Raf, I’m sorry. I had a really stressful day at work and I completely forgot about our chicken and movie plans. I swear I will make it up to you tomorrow--”

“Who the fuck was he?” Rafayel cut you off.

You paused your stammering and stared at him, brows knit in confusion. “What? Who?”

“That pig that was hanging off of you at the bar. Who is he?” he demanded.

“What does that have to do--”

“Answer the question!”

You snapped to attention, shock and indignation sharpening your features. “You do not talk to me like that! I know you’re pissed that I forgot our plans but you do not yell at me like that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Rafayel felt like laughing. Laugh like he was mad. “I want to know why you were flirting with someone else. Did you even realize that he was two seconds from kissing you?”

“Uh yeah? That was kinda the whole point of us flirting. Why are you getting so worked up about this?” you settled your hands on your hips. “Do you know what everyone is going to think now that you announced to all my co-workers that you are my boyfriend? No one is gonna want to get anywhere near me now. Thanks for that.”

“Is that what you want? To be with other people?”

“Wait. I’m confused. When did we ever establish that we were exclusive? I thought this was casual. Why are you being so possessive all of a sudden?” you asked.

“Because you are mine!” he shouted. He charged forward caging you against the wall. “This is not something casual to me and it shouldn’t be for you either! You are mine and mine alone I will be damned if I see someone else lay hands on what belongs to me.”

“Raf, where is all this coming from all of a sudden? Did you really think that we were in some serious arrangement?”

“You promised.” he repeated, angry tears threatening to spill.

“I know. I know. I promised to come over but I told you that I forgot--”

“No. You promised. You always promise. You keep making promises to me and you keep on breaking them! For eight hundred years you’ve been breaking your promises and I am tired of it! No more! You do not get to break my heart any more!” he seized you by the arms, staring into your eyes, willing something to unlock in your mind.

“Why do you never remember?” he said, his voice quieting. “Why do you keep breaking your promises?”

“What are you talking about? Eight hundred years? I don’t know what it is you are upset about. Did the coral finally get to your head now too?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Rafayel couldn’t take this anymore. He slammed his lips to yours, forcing your lips apart and pushing his tongue into your mouth. He did not yield until your tense body melted into his arms and you started to kiss him back.

He pulled back, breathing heavily. “Eight hundred years.” he muttered. “I know you don’t remember but I am going to make you. I am going to remind you in one way or another that you have always been mine. That you will only ever be mine. If I cannot make your mind remember then I will emblazon it on your body, etch my name into your bones so you never forget again.”

“Rafayel, why--”

“Yes or no?” he said, desperate to claim you but refused to move without your consent. “That’s all I need.”

“Are you going to talk to me about what the fuck is going on in that head of yours?” you snapped, impatience stoking you back into a rage.

Yes. Be angry. Be vengeful. But be mine.

“After.” his hands moved to your hips, pressing your body against his. “Now yes or no?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

His lips were back on yours, pouring all the frustration and desire he had into it. Mine. He thought. Only mine.

You started to slump as your knees buckled and he pulled back, keeping his arms locked around you as you made your way deeper into the studio. There was a fire roiling through his blood and it screamed at him to make you his. He didn’t have the patience to take you to the bedroom and instead tossed you onto the couch when it came into view.

He hovered above you and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to look at him. Your lips were parted and panting slightly, eyes wide with rage and lust and defiance. By the tides he loved it. He loved everything about you. If only you would say the same of him.

He kissed you again until you were breathless. There was still a taste of alcohol on your tongue. It tasted like rum and oranges, the sear and tang of summer overwhelming his senses with every swipe of your tongue against his. He wanted to get drunk off the taste. Wanted nothing else but reminders of you. Your taste, your scent, your warmth.

He left your swollen lips to trail his mouth down your neck, sucking dark bruises onto the sensitive flesh. A gasp left your mouth as his teeth sunk down above your pulse. You had always been so adamant about not leaving marks where other people could see them. Well no more. Everyone would know you were spoken for. No one would be able to question who you belonged to ever again. You included.

His free hand fumbled for the buttons of your shirt before impatience took over and he ripped it open instead. Buttons popped from their seams and flew off in different directions as your body was finally exposed to him.

“Hey! This is a work shirt!” you huffed, picking at one of the buttons that still held onto the shirt by a stretched thread.

“I’ll buy you another.” he slid the ruined shirt off and continued the descent of his mouth down your chest. “If you don’t want the rest of your clothes to meet the same fate, I’d advise in taking them off quickly.”

“Raf--”

“You have ten seconds. Be quick.” he stood up and started counting down.

It took you a moment to catch on that he was not indeed joking and to spare your clothes from decimation you quickly untied and tugged off your boots and were trying your best to shimmy out of your pants. Rafayel also began to shrug out of clothes, not as panicked as you were as he kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt off over his head. By the time he got to zero you had just managed to kick your pants off and were reaching for the clasp of your bra.

“Too slow.” he pinned you back against the couch his knee slotting in the spaced between your legs, pressing close to your clothed cunt. You tried to stifle it but he heard the low whine of arousal that hummed in your throat. He pressed knee closer, letting you grind on it. He could feel wet you were getting. The evidence of your arousal soaking through your panties and wetting his pants.

He reached around behind your back and undid the clasp that held your bra in place and tore it off. You were lost in your own little world, grinding against his leg like an animal in heat. Your sweet moans filled the air as his hands cupped your breasts an tweaked your nipples into hard peaks. So sweet. So beautiful. And all of it his. At least, it should have been. The idea that someone out there possibly had seen this version of you, had driven you into this state made his blood boil. Who else had you been with when you weren’t with him? Had you ever left him and gone off to be with someone else? Did you moan for them like you did for him? Did you speak such filthy and beautiful words in their ears like you did with him? How many others had been tasting your lips after him?

“How long?” he asked, eyes trained on your face.

Your eyes which had been closed in ecstasy cracked open again. “What?” you breathed out.

“How long have you been flirting with others?” he said and your eyes widened. “Answer me.”

“I thought you said we were going to talk about this after.” you said. “Why--ah!” he gave a sharp squeeze to your breast.

“Answer the question.”

“I--I don’t know.” your hips kept moving, kept pushing yourself closer to the sweet release your body craved. You were getting close, he could tell.

“Yes you do. Now answer. Have you been flirting with others the entire time we’ve been together?”

“Raf--”

He pulled back, leaving you cold and panting against the couch, your precious orgasm right out of reach. “Answer or this ends now.”

“Yes.” you answered, your voice quiet. “I guess you could say it was happening the entire time, even before we met.”

Icy dread so cold it felt like burning coursed through him. He pushed you down so you were sprawled across the cushions of the couch. His hand pushed against the soaked materials of your panties, teasing your clit through the cotton.

“And how many touched you like this, hm?” he rubbed your clit harder. “How many of them did you fuck?”

“None of them. I promise. I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” That was a small relief. Your body had remained his, but what of your heart?

He pushed the material aside and plunged two fingers into your weeping hole. “And why not?” he continued, stretching your walls and curling his fingers in the way he knew drove you mad with want. “You had no problem flirting with them. Letting them touch you, letting them kiss you. Why not give your body over completely? Is that where your conscience kicked in? Remembered you already had someone when things got that far, did you?”

“Didn’t--didn’t--” you were struggling to form words, “Didn’t like them that much.”

“So if you liked them more you’d let them touch you like this?” his thumb pressed against your swollen clit, adding to the sensations you were already feeling. “You’d let them put their fingers in you, touch your most sensitive spots, let them taste how sweet your arousal is? All it would take is a few more sweet words and you’d let them fuck you. Drive their dick into you like they own it, own you. Is that what you’re saying.”

“No. No--fuck! Raf, I never wanted to fuck any of them.” your words kept wavering as he kept you dancing just out of reach of release. “I promise.”

There was that word again. Promise.

“Your promises mean nothing anymore. You’ve proven that.” his pace got faster and your legs squirmed and kicked as your orgasm raced forward with frightening speed. “Why should I believe you this time?”

It was as if his words had ignited something hot in you The wanton need and delirium of pleasure snapped and you surged up as your pussy clamped down hard on his fingers, arousal gushing from your hole as you came. You had grabbed him by the shoulders and forced your mouth against his, kissing him hungrily. You kept pushing, forcing him down against the couch, trapping him under you just as he had done.

You pulled away, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth as you withdrew. The momentary bliss was gone when he saw the rage written across your face. You sat straddled across him, chest heaving in the aftermath of your orgasm. You hastily unbuckled his belt and were shoving his pants further down his hips so his cock was free from their confines. “Now listen here and listen well you prima donna!” you growled, teasing the wet tip of his cock in your hand. “You are going to believe me when I say this: I never wanted to fuck any of the people I flirted with. That’s all it ever was, flirting. If you wanted us to be something more serious you should have fucking said so sooner!”

His nostrils flared as you worked over the hard flesh of his erection. He tried to grab you but you smacked his hands away. “You do not get to be angry at me for treating what we have as something casual cause that is all you have ever treated it as too.”

“It was never casual for me!” he snapped back. You gave a hard squeeze and his head fell back. “Fuck--that’s not fair.”

“Neither were your methods.” you reminded him. “Now, you said you wanted to etch your name onto my bones so I never forgot you. Well that is a two way street, you know. If you want to sear yourself into my memory then I get to do the same to you.”

“Trust me,” he said, eyes dark with desire, “You already are.”

You sat back, angling yourself as you lowered yourself onto him. You watched his gaze slide from your face down to where you were connected, watching his cock sink in and out of you. You rode him hard, pulling up till only the tip remained inside before slamming back down on him again. He steadied you by holding your thighs, pushing them wider when he wanted you to sink down deeper on him.

It didn’t matter how many times you had sex. Every time he had you like this it felt like he was in some amazing dream he did not want to wake up from. But you were no dream. You were real. So breathtakingly and heartbreakingly real. And you were with him, wanting him, riding him, eyes begging him and only him for pleasure and release no one else could come close to giving you.

His hips moved to thrust up into you, needing more. Needing to mark you in a way that you never forgot in this life or the next or the one another eight hundred years from now.

Your thrusts got shallower and faster as he hit some wonderful spot in your pussy that had you seeing stars. Your legs were shaking and started to lose their rhythm. Your body collapsed forward, laying on top of him. He kept hold of your ass, forcing your hips to keep moving as you moaned and panted, nails scratching down his chest.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! Raf! Raf!” you started squirming again, release so close you could taste it. At least, that’s what he figured with your tongue hanging out of your mouth. He craned his neck to taste it, pull your mouth onto his and made you swallow his own moans.

Your pussy was so hot and wet and it was squeezing the life out of him. He never wanted to leave. He wanted to mount the pair of you on a pedestal in this embrace, immortalized in shining marble. Scholars and lovers would come from all over the galaxy to study the love and lust your coupling represented. Women would desire to be you and men would envy him for having claimed something so perfect as his own. But none would know just how good you were. How your lips felt pressed against their own, what your arousal tasted like, or what little things turned you into a screaming moaning mess. This was all his to know and no one else.

“Let go.” he murmured against your lips, “I know you want to come. Go ahead, let go and come for me. Oh fuck please! Be a good girl and come all over me. Please!” he stressed. He felt himself about to blow but he’d be damned if he left you behind.

“Raf! Raf! Fuck Raf! Want to! Want to come!” Tears were leaking out of your eyes. “Want to be yours. Want to--want to--fuck! Make me! Make me yours!”

“Yes. Be mine! Be mine! Be only mine!” He crushed your mouth back against his. He wedged one hand between you and found your swollen and neglected clit, rubbing it gracelessly to give you that final little push you needed.

“Ah!” your voice pitched an octave.

“Keep your eyes open.” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Look at me when you come. Look at me!”

You forced your eyes open despite the pleasure wracking your body telling you to close them. “Raf…ay…el…” his name was but a struggled whisper before your cunt clamped down around him and the tremors of your body seized as you were thrown into your orgasm.

Rafayel followed shortly behind, his eyes never leaving yours as the tides of pleasure washed in and out and away. The shaking of your body stilled and you stayed flush against him, chests heaving and hearts hammering as the adrenaline wore off.

After several long minutes of silence you spoke again in a quiet voice, devoid of any malice. “Rafayel?”

He almost wished you hadn’t said anything. He didn’t want to ruin this peaceful moment. But you probably had questions. “What is it?”

“You said it was never casual for you.” you traced patterns across his chest. “What did you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” he tilted your chin up to look at him. “After eight hundred years of waiting I finally have you back and you think I was going to want anything less than all of you?”

“Again with this eight hundred years thing.” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I get that you’re older than you look but I am not eight hundred years old, Rafayel. If you are projecting some lost love onto me--”

“It’s not projection. It is you. It has only ever been and only ever will be you.” he could see the war in your eyes, trying to reconcile what he was saying.

He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. “We promised. I know you don’t remember but I do. We made a vow and you cannot break it. We are bonded, always have been, always will be.”

“Do…” you took a shaky breath, “Do you love me?”

“It is a tragedy you even have to ask.” he cupped your cheek. “But yes, I do. And I will do anything to make sure you stay mine.”

“Well,” you cleared your throat, snuggling against him further. “I think you definitely staked your claim. But even if I am this same person from eight hundred years ago, what makes you think me and her are in any way the same? Do you want me to be more like her or something? Just how far is this going to go?”

“I never want you to be anything less than who you are. You don’t have to be her because there is no her to be. I just want you in whatever way you come.” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Okay?”

“Okay.” you smiled. “And I promise, really actually promise, that I will not flirt with anyone that is not you.”

“Because you love me?” he teased with a dopey smile.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah. Because I love you.”

-----------

A/N: Hi, so this was my first foray into fanfic for this particular fandom. As it is I'm still fairly new so a lot of my characterization is based off of limited knowledge and vibes. That being said I hope you liked it and if you have other prompts for me whether they be angsty, spicy, or fluffy I'd be glad to have a crack at them. Love ya!

[voidshrub]

I projected onto him the vacation I yearn and deserve right now (aka “WOE, SOL-INDUCED BESTIES HEADCANON DISEASE BE UPON YE”)

Somewhat based on headcanons and rp shenanigans with my lovely friendo @solalunar-eclipse :D

As always, Click and Eco (pink and teal) are @brightgoat ‘s, and Link and Avelyn (green and orange cameos on the second pic) are from @e40536 :3

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[chillyfeetsteak]

Joe Bennett, co-creator of Scavenger's Reign, just posted this on his instagram:

"As of right now, Scavengers Reign is not being renewed for a second season.

I wanted to let everyone know directly because I really love our fanbase, they've been such champions for the show, and I don't want to leave everyone hanging.

We've had to fight tooth and nail every step of the way to get this show made, starting all the way back in 2016 with the Scavengers short film to the release of the first season last year.

It's a case study for believing in something and persevering through a million and one hurdles. But, it got made, thanks especially to so many people who supported it along the way, in big and small ways. I want to thank some of those people, starting with my co-creator Charles Huettner, Chris Prynoski and everyone at @titmouseinc, my home base at @greenstreetpictures, the writers, directors, and so many incredible artists who worked tirelessly on the show, and the folks at Max who were incredible partners to work with.

But this is not the end. There is more story to be told, we are ready to make another season, and we produced in-house at Green Street a teaser for what was going to come in the second season.

Thanks again to everyone who watched and supported the show."

[alienzil]

Nanny Danny

“That is a whole ass baby,” was the only thought running through Lex Luthor’s head when the scientist proudly showed him the tube containing Project KR. It was not remotely the sort of thing he would normally think and most definitely not what he had expected to be thinking the first time he saw the clone.

He’d been pleased when he’d read the reports indicating the success of KR after years of failures. Lex had poured millions of dollars and literally his own blood into ensuring a clone of the alien could be made, one that would be under his total control instead of the unknown aspirations of Superman.  He’d wanted to see the fruits of his labors personally but this…

It. No, not an it. He scrunched his tiny face and smacked his lips and…did he smirk? Was that HIS SMIRK on that baby’s face?! No. No. Babies this small didn’t smile or smirk. They passed gas and their sleep deprived and addled parents mistook it for an intelligent response. He’d heard enough inane conversations in the Lexcorp office about the various progeny of his employees to pick up on that but still. This child had Kryptonian DNA, not to mention his own contribution. Surely, he was far more advanced than the dribbling potato shaped lump of an infant whose pictures he’d been forced to smile and nod over when Mark from accounting had rudely shoved them in his face at the last quarterly budget meeting. Yes, that was definitely a smirk. His, that was his smirk.

“So as you can see its growth is well within expected parameters and we’re planning to start phase one of accelerating the maturation process tomorrow once the testing is do-”

“Take him out.”

“Sir? The testing can all be accomplished while it remains in the tube. There’s no need to-”

“I said, take him out. The project is cancelled.”

“What?! Mr. Luthor you can’t!”

“I think you’ll find I can. Now get me my son.”

*****

Two years later

“Call them again”

“Sir, I’ve called them seven times. They won’t answer.”

“Then call another agency!”

“There isn’t another agency, Sir”

Lex glared at his assistant who stared back at him impassively. Mercy stood by the door staring off into the distance and pretending she didn’t notice him being bested by his own secretary.

He stopped himself from shouting again and took a deep breath before asking, “Then what, exactly, do you propose I do Mrs. Anderson? Adjust my entire schedule around naptimes? Find a toddler size lab coat and safety goggles and bring my son with me to tour the new clean energy project on Thursday? Perhaps buy a tiny business suit while I’m at it for the next board meeting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Luthor. I’m telling you that no childcare agency in Metropolis will return my calls anymore. Most won’t even answer.  You’ve gone through 27 nannies in the last 3 months. You need someone better suited to your son’s…special needs.”

Lex snorted. “Special needs might be a bit of understatement. He can lift a car over his head and his favorite word right now is No.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Thank you for…clarifying the situation, Marjorie. If there’s nothing else, you can leave.”

His secretary didn’t move. She looked at him like she was waiting for something and now that he was paying attention, he saw she was holding a file.  “Did you have a suggestion?”

Looking pleased with herself she responded, “Actually, yes, I did.”

“Well?”

She set the file on his desk and flipped it open. He looked down at the first page and raised an eyebrow, “What am I looking at here?”

“This,” she responded pulling out the top set of papers and spreading them out, “is the employee file and background check for Daniel J. Fenton, an intern that started in our engineering department about 4 months ago. He has one sibling, two parents and several close friends he regularly meets with. His current supervisor has nothing but good things to say about him and reports he gets along well with all his coworkers.”

She set out the next set of papers, neatly arranging them on the desk to be easily seen. “These are newspaper articles and screenshots of social media posts regarding a small town vigilante locally known as Phantom. The same small town, Mr. Fenton is from coincidentally. Also coincidentally, Phantom made his first appearance only a few weeks after Mr. Fenton was involved in a minor accident in his parent’s home laboratory when he was 14, the medical records for the incident are included.”

“Hmm,” Lex said observing several photos of Phantom and a younger Fenton arranged in order of similar poses and facial expressions and printed out side by side.

“Finally,” she said handing him the last set of papers directly, “this would be a report from the lab Mr. Fenton works in from an incident that happened yesterday. A test with a new protype went wrong and started a fire. Everyone evacuated per protocol when the alarms went off but one of the other interns was working on a programming issue off to the side of the lab while wearing headphones and didn’t hear the alarm or notice the fire. Mr. Fenton noticed his absence and returned to the lab to get him out.” She stopped talking and let him look at the last several pages in the file, a series of photographs of the lab.

“Is this ice?”

“Yes, it is. It’s several inches thick and covers half of the lab. It completely put out the fire leaving minimal damage.”

“This machine was moved?”

“It was. It was very close to the flames and would have required replacement if exposed to extreme heat or cold. That particular piece of equipment also weighs several thousand pounds and was bolted to the floor.”

Lex read through everything in detail then clasped his hands under his chin and stared at the photo of Daniel Fenton for several moments before turning back to his waiting secretary.

“Have HR send Mr. Fenton up. I’d like to offer him a promotion.”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

gold ring

words: 1.3k

warnings: brief suspicion of cheating, established relationship, soft!rafe, proposal, fluffy

“rafe!” you groan out, tired of hearing his phone constantly dinging for the past ten minutes. 

when rafe doesn't answer, you slap your laptop closed, frown on your face as you head up the stairs, muttering to yourself about him interrupting your work that he KNOWS is important.

“rafe!” you shout, entering his bedroom. you can finally hear the spray of the shower, explaining why he was letting his phone go off.

you grab it from his bedside table, yanking the charger free as you go to silence it, but upon trying to stop the dinging, you skim over the notifications.

you don't believe it at first. it must be some kind of mistake, you're sure.

you click on the name of rafes ex girlfriend, opening up the text message thread.

rafe: when can we meet?

ex: whenever works for you 🥺

ex: i miss you a lot btw

ex: this friday at 6pm? we can meet at the country club like we always used to. maybe get dinner? can't wait to see you xxx

you frown at the messages, quickly locking the phone and setting it down when you hear the shower turn off.

rafe steps out with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

“hey princess.” he smiles. “how's the essay going?”

“fine.” your tone is cold, surprising rafe. “your phone was ringing so i silenced it.”

you walk out of the room without another word, needing to return to your homework, but when you sit back down at what has become your desk, you can't concentrate on the words on the screen, your anger bubbling over.

you want to confront rafe, but you need time to breathe otherwise the entire conversation will be unintelligible as you simply sob.

you head upstairs, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder as rafe emerges from the closet, fully dressed.

“where you going babe? got study group?” he questions, glancing at the clock on the wall, realizing there's no way study group would be meeting this late.

“going home.” you mumble, making sure everything you usually leave at rafes is stuffed in your bag.

“you are home?” rafe questions, his expression turning sad when he sees you're not joking.

“no, im not rafe.” you sigh. “i want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

truth is, you've practically moved into tanneyhill since you started dating rafe, but technically you still live at your parents house, only a few doors down from rafes.

“is everything alright?” rafe asks, trying to reach out for you. “what did i do wrong?”

you can't help it anymore, his obvious disrespect for your relationship, something you put years of work into only for him to go back to his ex girlfriend.

“how about you ask your ex?” you question, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“my ex? what are you talking about?” rafe asks, again trying to hold you by your shoulders, but you take a step back before his palms can land on you.

rafe: ive asked you a million times to give that ring back. you never should have taken it in the first place. it was my grandmother's and now it belongs to y/n, not you.

“i saw your texts, rafe. when can we meet? are you fucking kidding me!?” you shout the last sentence.

“baby, wait.” he says softly, grabbing his phone. he opens up the messages, scrolling up so you can see the full context.

ex: i don't know where it is 

rafe: bullshit. give it back or ill call the cops

ex: fine. 

rafe: when can we meet?

“see, baby?” rafe places a soft hand on your shoulder. “i was just trying to get my shit back. i have no interest in my ex at all. i love you.”

“oh, rafe!” you coo out, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “im so sorry i doubted you.”

“it's okay, id also be pissed if you were texting your ex. i didn't tell you just because i wanted to keep it a surprise.”

“keep what a surprise?” you furrow your brows together.

“what do you?- ohhh.” rafe finally catches on, letting out a chuckle. “i see what you're doing.”

you giggle, rising to your tiptoes to press a kiss to rafes soft lips. 

“now let's get back to work on that essay, yeah?” rafe says. “i can help you.”

“and what do you know about microbiology that could possibly help me?” you snicker.

rafe rolls his eyes dramatically. “fine, but i can at least be there for moral support.”

--

you've been expecting it for months now, wondering when rafe will pop the question. you know he got the ring back, and while he's taken you on romantic dates and moonlit walks on the beach, you're not sure when he will actually drop to one knee.

“what are you thinking for your nails this week?” your girlfriend asks.

originally, you were doing all white and plain, but recently for summer you've been branching out to bright colors again.

“why, is there a certain color i should get?” you raise your eyebrow at her. 

“well i was gonna get a sparkly white, maybe we could match.” she shrugs. it's no discredit to your friend, but her acting isn't good enough to fool you, and you're sure that rafe asked her to make sure you get something appropriate and properly bridal.

you of course get simple nails that you hope will compliment a silver ring on your finger.

you look at the calendar hanging on the wall, reading through your events for the upcoming week, trying to figure out when rafe may ask the question.

you ultimately give up on trying to figure it out as you head further into the house, calling out for rafe. 

“baby? where are you?” you shout, surprised when you don't get a response. you head up to your bedroom, figuring he must be in the shower, but the bathroom door is wide open when you enter.

you almost miss it, so set on finding rafe, but the dress laying on the edge of the bed ends up catching your attention.

put this on and meet me outside.

you recognize rafes handwriting instantly. you set the paper to the side and look at the dress. its a soft light pink material, nearly white.

you are quick to undress and put on the flowy dress, admiring yourself in the mirror before touching up your hair and makeup next. rafe knows how you like to prepare for big events in your life.

your steps are slow, or at least you attempt to keep them slow, as you want to cherish this moment. your eyes light up with the glow of the backyard, string lights hanging from every tree, and on the edge of the sand, is rafe.

“oh.” you cover your mouth, feeling tears well up in your eyes. this has to be the moment. you run to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he spins you.

“baby, i haven’t even asked yet.” rafe chuckles, setting you down.

“and i’m already saying yes.” you giggle, although it’s no secret to rafe what your answer would be.

“still-” rafe places his hands on your hips, stilling you before he drops down onto one knee, pulling a box out of his pocket. he flips open the lid to reveal the most stunning ring you’ve ever seen, it’s exactly what you envisioned and somehow so much more.

“you’ve made me happier than i ever thought possible. you fixed all my broken pieces and made me whole again. there’s no one else i’d rather spend forever with.”

rafe looks up at you, tears brimming in his eyes, overwhelmed with the emotion of the moment. “will you marry me?”

“yes!” you squeal, falling to your knees alongside rafe and pressing your lips against his. “yes, yes. a million times yes.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[falesten-iw]

Urgent 🆘️ call: 🚨🍉 Please help..🥺😓🙏

My name is Falastin, and I am a mother of three small children, ages 5 years, 2 years, and 3 months. I am not very good with social media, but I am writing to seek your help to give my family in Gaza the chance to live their lives again.

Due to the ongoing genocide we in Gaza are experiencing, my family need your help to survive, leave Gaza, and find safety.

In november 2023 last year, i lost three of my cousins from my mother's family with their wifes and children's, some of them still under the rubble untill now. 

In mars 2024 this year i lost another 2 cousins in Alshifa hostpital, this shock after three months of the first lose was a big slap into our face, it was a harsh reminder that death didn’t stop, and that none of us is an exception in this genocide, not a woman nor a child, everyone of us is a target to the death machines above our heads.

My family has lost everything. Some of them have tragically passed away, and those who remain are without shelter, moving from one temporary place to another in a desperate attempt to stay alive. Currently "After more than 20 times of being displaced and having to leave our house escaping from rockets and death " they have fled south and are living in a makeshift tent made from plastic bags and torn clothes.

Each day is a battle for survival. Each day, my family wakes up not knowing if they will have food to eat, clean water to drink, or a safe place to rest. Their homes have been wiped, and their children sit sleepless waiting their death. In Gaza, there is no where to seek shelter, no bunkers, nowhere to hide. Gaza is no more than 40 kilometers long and 10 kilometers wide with a population of just over two million. Gaza's border is completely surrounded by fences and barbed wire. The only way out of Gaza is to Egypt.

I used to introduce myself as the youngest in the family but in this GENOCIDE I’m a big sister who see her siblings’ future getting lost in front of her eyes, as i see my brothers kids who are still young and supposed to be in school, my mom who is 73 years old unable to find her medicine, as I see them, I made it a mission to myself to save my family or who’s left alive from it, to save their future from all of this and to escape Gaza.

Despite everything, I still have hope to save those who remain of my family. But I need all the help I can get from every person on earth. This challenge is not easy for me, especially since I am not good with social media and i dont have so many follower to reach and ask them for help. However, I am trying, and maybe with your support, the impossible can become possible.

Asking for your help is the only way I have to save my family’s life and future. Your help can be our hope when hope seems far away. Because of that, I appeal to your generosity and compassion, asking for help so that we can gather the necessary funds to help my family.

Photos of "Lina," who was born at the start of the war, and she is now 9 months old. Your donation could give her the chance to survive, leave Gaza, and find safety with her family.

I would like to thank everyone who has donated, shared and supported my campaign so far. Your generosity has given us hope in the darkest of times, and I am deeply grateful.

So far, we have raised 3,950 SEK of our 2,000,000 SEK goal - August 15th. While this is a small step, it is a crucial one, and it shows that together, we can make a difference. We still have a long way to go, and I urge you to continue sharing our story and contributing if you can.

Every donation, no matter the size, brings us closer to saving my family and giving them a chance at life. Please read and act as if it were your family, your mother, your siblings in these conditions. 🙏🙏🙏💔💔💔💔

Important note: Donation value:

** 1$ = 10.5 Swedish kr

** 10$ = 105 Swedish kr

** 100$ = 1050 Swedish kr

** 1000$ = 10500 Swedish kr

VETTED and shared by 90-ghost, also as no. 282 in The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet compiled by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi and shared in the masterpost.

We have also been verified by Al Jazeera News. Here is the video. I added this video today, august 15th. Its showing my cousin and aunt in the hospital, where she shares how the Israeli army airstruck them with their kids. Listen to my aunt Suad "Em Mhammed".

Best regards,

Falastin and her family.

[the-original-skipps]

|| Leave Me Dead To The World. || Five Hargreeves x Reader || The Umbrella Academy ||

don’t even get me started on tua season 4 cuz i hated it especially the you know what with Five.

CW: Spoilers for TUA season 4 epsiode 6. Instead of Lila, (Y/N) is the who goes with him to get stuck for 7 years.

bold italics are song lyrics from dead to the world by noel gallagher listen to it while you read to up the reading experience haha

After spending 7 years in a another timeline with Five, you’ve come back to be reunited with everyone in the present. Only to find out that the world’s on a fast track to ending again, but this time there’s no running away from the inevitable.

“P-Please Five, don’t do this…!”

You cry out as your shaky hands cup his face, your forehead pressed against his as his solemn eyes stare deeply into yours. Both of you standing on a familiar platform, while Lila’s family and Claire watch with melancholy. You could see his eyes pooling with his tears at your desperation. You have no idea how much Five wanted to abandon everything, the world, his family and leave everything behind to jump back on the train with you. To a house in the middle of the woods, where you’d grow strawberries and to spend the rest of your lives together. Live the life he always imagined with you by side until he draws his final breath but he couldn’t.

It’s time to let go, I’m bent over backwards.

He knew if he did, everything would start over again-the end of the world is always going to be inevitable as long as he and his family lived. He tried over and over again and just when he thought he could finally live-when he finally stopped it, does the cruel reminder that it’ll never end, come back. He couldn’t do this to you again, you deserved to live a full life even though he won’t ever be a part of it. That is why, with a heavy heart does Five slowly shake his head at your plea. His heart sinks even further at the look on your face at his rejection. “I’m sorry (Y/N), I wish it didn’t have to be this way but there’s no other options left. I wish there was, I r-really do…” Five croaks out as he tries to wipe the tears that continuously fall from your eyes. As the trains signal its doors closing, Five knew his time was up.

If love ain’t enough to make it alright. Leave me dead to the world.

“I love you...”

With a final press of his lips to your forehead, Fives pushes you harshly into the train. Surprised, you fall backwards, only for Claire to try and catch you as you land on the floor of the train. Horror filled your eyes as the train doors closes on you, separating you and Five forever.

You quickly scramble to stand up, yelling and pounding on the door that separates you both. Five smiles sadly at you, as he places a hand on the glass then bringing it up to a wave as the train signals its departure. Your shouts get louder as the train starts to move, pounding harder as you call out your lover’s name. As the speed picks up, you see Five’s figure growing smaller and smaller until it completely disappears. Only then do you fall to your knees with a dreadful wail as your heart shatters into a million pieces.

Five's hand falls back down to his side lifelessly as the train disappears into darkness. The tears that welled up in his eyes, finally cascading down his cheeks. The Five who never showed any weakness, nonetheless cried - his walls now completely broken down. He had to remain strong in front of you or else he would have wavered in his decision. With a shaky breath, he turns around preparing to blink back to the mansion - back to his family who waited for him. He promises that if he was ever given another chance at life again that he'll find you again, and love you like he always wanted to. No matter how long it takes, he'll find you again even if you won’t remember him. When he meets you, will you fall in love with him again? It’s wishful thinking but he hopes that even if it’s a tiny bit, that you'd still remember him. With all of his heart he hopes that you do but until then.

"Take care, my love."

I can lend you a dream, till we meet again. I’m dead to the world.

[monzabee]

the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.  

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?” 

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”  

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.” 

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–” 

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?” 

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?” 

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”  

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.  

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”  

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.” 

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.” 

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone. 

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.” 

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?” 

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”  

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment. 

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.  

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!” 

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.” 

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”  

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?” 

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–” 

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”  

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–” 

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”  

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”  

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”  

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.” 

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.  

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?” 

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”  

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.  

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.  

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.” 

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?” 

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.  

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.  

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!” 

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover. 

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!” 

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”  

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.  

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?” 

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.  

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”  

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.” 

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?” 

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...” 

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?” 

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”  

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”  

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers? 

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?” 

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.  

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?” 

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?” 

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?” 

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.” 

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.” 

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.  

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”  

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?” 

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.” 

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?” 

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?” 

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.” 

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”  

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?” 

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.  

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach.   But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.  

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.  

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”  

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.  

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.  

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.  

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.  

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”  

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”  

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to chilisade5594@gmail.com, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.” 

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.” 

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.  

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?” 

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”  

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”  

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?” 

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.” 

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.” 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.  

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?” 

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.” 

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?” 

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.” 

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”  

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?” 

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.” 

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”  

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.  

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”  

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?” 

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”  

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!” 

“I know you don’t,” he nods.  

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.  

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.  

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!” 

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.  

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.  

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.” 

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.” 

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.” 

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.” 

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up. 

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

He Comes Home

~450 words

Red Hood is terrifying. A force of nature. A crime lord. That's why when you see your boyfriend, your best friend, the one that's supposed to be dead, by the way, in your kitchen dressed in enough armor to block a small missile, you blank. His hood is pulled down now, but the eerie glow of his eyes beneath the mask is still etched in your mind.

You know he's talking to you. But you can barely process the words, gaze completely focused on his face. He's alive. He is alive. And in the shitty apartment you've hardly had the time to clean this week. He breathes out your name like a prayer and takes your hand, and you can't help but tune back into his words.

“I’ll go to jail,” he says to you, almost begging. “I’ll do whatever you want, just—Just don’t leave. Just stay with me.”

His hand tightens on yours, as if he’s afraid he’ll lose you.

"I— jail?" You manage to stumble out, voice tense with confusion and disbelief and a million other emotions you can't seem to sort out in the moment. "Why would I want—"

"I've made so many mistakes. I should have— I wanted to come see you sooner."

He lets his voice crack, let’s out a sob against your hands as he pulls them to his face. All of his pain and his fear and his anger and his guilt—over you, over Batman, over the people he hurt—all comes spilling out.

His entire body trembles violently as the emotions he’s been holding in for years come spilling out. He drops your hands to reach for your waist, faltering before touching you truly. You meet him halfway, tucking yourself against his chest. He's real. He's warm. He's in front of you, and the last thing on your mind is letting go. You're just as afraid to lose him again as he is to lose you.

He cries against your neck—big, ugly sobs. His hands squeeze your hips and he buries his head against you like you're the last lifeline to safety.

“You don’t know how much I missed you,” he whispers into you. “You don’t know how much I—“ he lets out another broken sob. “You don’t know how much I wished for this, for this moment. For you. For you. God, all I want is you.”

"You have me. I'm right here." You murmur against the cold plating of his suit. And that has to be enough. For the moment, in your dimly lit kitchen at who knows what time, it has to be true. It's enough. He's alive and he's come home to you. That is enough.

[thewanderingconstellation]

Dimensional traveling Prince!Danny Fenton & Obsessed but still somewhat sane and logical! Damian Wayne

Just a random DeadSerious prompt I thought of at like 2am :>

Clockwork stumbled upon a peculiar universe where a group of humans had been engaging in bizarre activities. Recognizing the need for investigation, Clockwork assigned the newly announced Prince Phantom, a 14-year-old named Danny Fenton, to venture into this realm. It was a training opportunity for Danny, preparing him for his future role as King. Through a portal, Danny found himself suspended above the Lazarus pit, with Ra's al Ghul standing below him. Fortunately, Danny was dressed in his regal attire, which inexplicably aged him to 18 years old, sparing him from too much embarrassment. Ra's began questioning him, leading to a discussion about the potential dangers of the pit.

During his stay, Danny crossed paths with Damian, who was in the midst of his training. The 8-year-old assassin-in-training wasted no time in challenging Danny to a duel. As expected, Danny emerged victorious, leaving a lasting impact on Damian. Danny revealed that he too was an heir to a throne, possessing strength, power, and a tolerable personality, as Damian had previously remarked. These qualities managed to thaw Damian's cold and unyielding heart, finding a special place within it. From that moment on, Damian began courting Danny using the rituals he had learned from secret books in the league's library. He showered Danny with small gifts, heartfelt letters, acts of service, and even presented him with his second favorite knife.

In the meantime, Danny had been well aware of the situation right from the beginning, and he wasted no time in creating distance between himself and the child. Forget about it! Sure, he might be clueless at times, but he's not foolish! When a child hands you a thornless Rose and affectionately calls you 'Habibi', 'Rohi', 'Hayati', 'Albi', and/or 'Ya Amar'—even though he may not fully understand the meanings behind those words, he definitely knows what 'Habibi' means—you can't help but have doubts, you know?! So Danny tried his best to keep the kid at arm's length, not wanting to give him false hope. After all, the kid was only 8 years old for crying out loud! But you have to give it to the kid, he was incredibly stubborn and persistent.

As time went on, two whole months flew by, and Clockwork finally informed Danny that there was no longer any need for him to investigate or keep an eye on the pit. When Danny asked for an explanation, the old man, true to his cryptic nature, simply delivered a mysterious message and left, much to Danny's annoyance. All he could do was leave a letter of explanation for Damian. Damian's heart shattered into a million pieces when he read the letter, realizing that he would never be able to see or even meet Danny again, as they belonged to different dimensions.

Time flew by and it was finally the moment to reveal his secret identity to his parents as Phantom. Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned and he ended up being captured by the GIW, strapped to a surgical table for three days. After escaping, he made a quick exit from home, promising his friends and sisters that he would keep in touch. Clockwork then whisked Danny away to another dimension, sensing that he needed a change of scenery. Dropping him off in a crime-ridden city with just a backpack of essentials, including a dagger from Damian. As he transformed back to his human form in Gotham, he pondered his next move. Suddenly, a young vigilante? Hero? appeared and whisked him away through the city with a grappling hook. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse!

Damian, now taking on the role of the vigilante Robin, was out patrolling alone. His father wanted him to gain more experience on his own. As he made his way through the city, he noticed a faint but distinct bright light coming from one of the nearby alleys. Curiosity piqued, he decided to investigate.

To his surprise, he saw his beloved from years ago emerging from a strange green portal. Gone was the royal attire Damian was accustomed to seeing him in. Instead, he was clad in a black and white HAZMAT suit, with a symbol in the center. And astonishingly, he even held the second favorite knife that Damian had given him all those years ago.

In a matter of seconds, his beloved transformed into what Damian believed to be a Wayne adoption bait. Without hesitation, he sprinted towards them, landing in front of them and carefully assessing the situation. In one swift motion, he slung his beloved over his shoulder and shot his grappling hook, swiftly taking off with them.

Damian wasn't sure what he would do next, but one thing was certain - he would never let his beloved out of his sight again. He had lost him once, and he refused to lose him again. His possessiveness over the things and people he considered his had grown stronger.

Perhaps he would find a way for them to sign marriage papers, or at least become engaged, despite their young age. Of course, it would only happen if his beloved, Danny, agreed to it. Consent and trust were crucial in any relationship, after all. If Danny disagreed, Damian would resort to the courting rituals his mother had taught him. The conventional methods from books hadn't worked, so he would try his mother's unique approach. Granted, he was technically kidnapping him, but it was only a few steps ahead. Damian was determined to win his beloved's heart, no matter what it took.

[satowooo]

i. imgonnagetyouback

The one and only son of the Gojo clan had fallen quite hard, completely and utterly, to a lowly woman who came from the dirt, and got his heart broken by her. Years had passed, he was still as angry since the day you left, but he only wanted you back.

contents. modern au, gojo satoru x reader, angst, not proofread.

Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back

next chapter

It was pathetic. The sight of Gojo Satoru, a well-respected son of the Gojo clan, was down on his knees right in front of you, begging you to stay, a daughter of a mere servant.

It made him look pitiful and weak, a miserable prince who had his heart shattered by a low class woman like you. But he didn't really give it that much of a thought, ever since he first laid eyes on you. He didn't care what people might've said from the very first time, and he proved it to you a million times as he stubbornly and desperately showed you how much he loves and adores you. So, begging down on his knees is not that much of a deal now, no?

“Stand up, please.”

But you were firm, closing your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You hated seeing him like this, but you were left with no other choice. Your love for him could risk even the dangers of your life, and you were sacrificing him to save him.

“I do not wish to be with you any longer, Young Master.” You said, uttering his title in a whisper. “What we had was wrong. It was a mistake on my side. And I thought I was in love with you, but it was just a pathetic infatuation and I realised that another man best suits me, and it's not you.”

Your words were nonstop, every single thing that you uttered was shattering his heart into pieces. But Satoru furiously shakes his head, his hands trembling on your lap as his forehead falls on your knees.

“T-that’s not… T-that's not true…”

You remembered everything from that day. Every little detail, every word, every touch, every action, of what had happened stayed forever in your mind. It never fails to shatter you. To make you cry every single time that you thought about him as you lie in the confinements of your small room.

“I have done what you asked for. What else do I need to do–” A whimper escaped your lips as a hand flew over your cheek. Breathing heavily, you felt the sting on your skin as you looked back at the person who had been the cause of your pain.

“Pack your things, and never show your face again.”

Gojo Satoru haunted your dreams and nightmares. He managed his way in your heart, and refused to leave. He was the ghost of your tragic love story, you could only wish that you never should've picked up the pen. It's already been two years since you left, and even until now, your heart only beats for one man and it will always be for Satoru.

So what are you going to do when he comes up at your door, claiming what used to be his?

It all happened so fast that your head can't fathom how you ended back to the place of your nightmares. The Gojo clan's mansion. The place where it all started between the two of you.

Every corner of this place was filled with memories of you and Satoru, all the good and bad. But what you remembered most was the torture, the consequences you had faced for falling in love. You felt like all your scars were slowly tearing apart, opening the wound that was almost healed as you looked back to the man who stood in front of you.

You never should've been back in this place.

“I expect you to work immediately.” Satoru's voice was different. It was laced with authority and demand, not the sweet ones that you remember back when he was yours. “Remember, your family is in the palm of my hands. Try to escape, and you'll face the consequences.”

His eyes looked at you with anger, a pent up emotion that he bottled up all these years. His hands were balled on a fist by his sides, almost trembling, but he wouldn't let you see just how much you still have an effect on him.

Right now, all he feels is anger and hatred for what you did. For leaving him. For running off with another man. For loving him only to break his heart. For letting him hold on to your empty promises.

For those two years, he only loathed you and he's not going to be a forgiving man, he'll make sure you regret. He'll make you beg on his knees, the way he did for you.

“I expect you to be in my office in five.”

Now, you're back to square one. Working as his maid was already bad enough back then, so what's going to happen now that you're back to serve him again?

You can't help but notice how much he changed. Somehow, you can tell that he was still the same, only that he was only mad at you. It was obvious already how he's showing indifference only to you but not to anyone else. His bubbly personality that used to welcome you with warm embraces is now replaced with an angry demeanour of a man who cold-heartedly took you away from your family and took you back to the house where you suffered.

How unfair.

This was not your Satoru.

As soon as Satoru turned around and left you standing, he heaved out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. His heart felt like it was trying to escape from his chest. For the first time since you left, he finally felt his heart beating again.

All throughout those years that you were gone, he relentlessly looked for you. Trying to search your face in unfamiliar places, sometimes getting himself into trouble when he mistakes someone for you. Everyday, he was turning angrier and angrier when you never showed up, while all he needed was proper answers and explanations. He hated all the memory that you had left, and how it tore him to pieces that all of it was just a lie.

He couldn't believe you had the nerve. A woman like you with no name for herself, telling him that a relationship with him was just a mistake as you sought another man. Gojo Satoru was everything anyone could have asked for, so how dare a woman like you? How dare a woman he loved…

Everything comes crashing down into his mind once again. From the first time he saw you and how you've caught his eye. His heart starts to beat frantically, his breath caught into his chest, his tongue tied together. Satoru slumps into his chair as he closes his eyes, letting the memory sink in.

“Who is that woman?” Satoru asked an older servant, seeing your unfamiliar face walking around the garden in a maid uniform as he stared down at you from his window.

“That's [M/L/N]’s daughter. She's here to take her place while her mother is recovering.” The servant answered as she poured him tea.

Satoru watched as you walked quietly, your movements looked calculated and careful. He watched your finger touch a ragged cloth, gracefully cleaning the dirty tables.

From afar, he can see how your skin looked soft and pale. You were a bit thin and looked weak. He can only assume that he could break you with one twist.

Your face didn't have any emotion in it which intrigued him. Even your lips were downturned, like you hated every second of working in his place. You caught his attention in a matter of seconds, a curiosity growing inside him while he watched your every move.

He noticed the way your mood changed when his family's dog, a small golden retriever, came running to you. A smile formed into your face and he swore he could feel all the flowers blooming all around the place. Everything seemed to have lighted up, his heart began to drum in his chest as you kneeled down to the dog, petting and rubbing the cute animal between your hands.

What's so fascinating about you?

He swallowed hard. Satoru felt like a teenage boy realising that he was staring a little too hard. He felt like a stalker for watching you, shivering at his thoughts.

But he wanted to meet you. Something was pulling him to be close to your presence. A magnetic force was drawing him to come near, and it was the very first time that he ever felt like this.

But he'll take his time first. For now, he's going to settle on just watching you from afar, memorising every detail of you, until he is ready.

A knock on the door woke Satoru back to his senses. He straightened up on his seat, erasing the memories out of his head as he coughed. “Come in.”

But how can Satoru completely forget?

You walked inside in your maid uniform, the same dress that you used to wear, and it only took Satoru a matter of seconds for all your pasts to remind him of how much he loved you. He felt a pain in his chest, and for a moment, he wanted to fall back on his knees and beg for you to love him again. But even you had changed.

Satoru was also back to square one. He looks at you, reminded of the first time he had seen your face. The lack of emotion, the frown, the gaze that used to intimidate him, and the wall you had built between the two of you was palpable.

“Take a seat.” Satoru gestured over the chair in front of his table.

He watched you carefully as you stepped inside his office, striding forward with a sense of hurry as you obviously refused to seat. You stood in front of him, an emotion in your eyes that he can't seem to read.

“I have to get back to my family–”

“They are fine.” Satoru immediately cut you off, his voice ringing over your ear. He looked at you with a glare, venom laced in his voice as he says, “You are bound to stay here, as I said so–”

“You can't keep me here!”

Your scream shocked the both of you, but Satoru kept a straight face as he stood up slowly. He chuckled with malice, staring at your helpless state.

“What makes you say that I can't?” He smirked. “I own you now. Every single thing that's yours is also mine, even your family.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, your hands trembling at your side. Your knees felt weak underneath his gaze, burning and crushing your soul.

Everything he said was true. You were in so much debt ever since you left the Gojo mansion, your family almost falling apart if he didn't show up to take you. And now he's claiming every single bit of what's yours, not leaving a single piece behind.

Satoru made it clear when he took you here. He'll pay for everything to save you and your family. Your mother's hospital bill, your father's gambling debts, your brother's education, their food, house, electricity, and all their livings, because you couldn't pay them off by yourself.

So now you're trapped. He's got you wrapped around his fingers.

“You need me, Y/N.” You closed your eyes at his voice, shaking your head in denial. “You can't afford to live without me, and that's the truth.”

It was the truth, Satoru taking her away from her old life.

You were doing just fine when he was gone. But now you don't know anymore.

this is the part 1 of my mini (?) gojo series! i hope you'd like it and anticipate for what's next to come 🥺🫶🏻 [M/L/N] also stand for "mother's last name" in case you didn't knowww ^.^ I also hoped you understood the flashbacks and such.

this is just a prologue of the main story, sooo the real story starts at part 2.

[moonxytcn]

Fem reader with billie! She does another vaniety fair interview and they ask her if she's in a relationship and she talks about being in a relationship with a woman for the first time (us)❤️

the same interview

Billie Eilish x fem!reader

summary – billie talks about you in her interview.

warnings – fluffy

word count – 369.

a/n – Thank you for the request and sorry for the delay 😅 I intended to follow the entire interview but gave up halfway hahah

English is not my first language so there may be some errors.

–––

Sitting in the chair and watching Billie prepare for the interview, you feel happy to be accompanying her this time. You've been in a relationship for exactly one year, and whenever you can, you accompany Billie to her interviews. This is one you managed to attend. The same interview she does every year for Vanity Fair.

"This thing is huge." Billie says, holding the clapperboard. "Doing this again." she sings, smiling, and taps the top of the clapperboard.

Smiling softly at her when she glances at you, you blow her a kiss, which she pretends to catch in the air and places her hand on her heart, smiling at you.

What's your name?

"My name is Billie Eilish," She says, smiling at the camera. "October 18, 2024."

How old are you?

"Twenty-two."

How many Instagram followers do you have?

"One hundred and nineteen million Instagram followers."

–––

Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend now?

"Yes, I do, actually." She says, slightly embarrassed and with a huge smile on her face. "I am so excited and happy about it. I mean, it's my first official relationship with a girl, and we're out to the public, and man, she's amazing. Have you seen her? She's like the most beautiful girl in the world." She says, looking from the camera to you, and you just smile emotionally and mostly happy because Billie makes you the happiest person. "And I got her, all by myself." She says passionately. "At the moment, she is the most important person to me, she is my world now. I love you, baby."

"I love you too." You say softly to her, but you know she heard. Billie smiles and turns to continue the interview.

–––

When the interview ends, Billie gets up from the chair, and you practically jump from yours to run into her arms, hugging her and pressing your lips against hers in a kiss full of love.

"I love you. God, I love you so much, Billie. You literally make me the happiest person in the world." You tell her, looking into her eyes.

"The same, princess, I love you so much." Billie says, leaving one last kiss on your lips before you both leave.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's terrifying to realize you don't know if Bradley is safe. As the lonely days stretch on and on, you try to savor the notes from him. Once the final two envelopes have been opened, you know you need the real thing.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, romantic as hell Bradley, 18+

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Other than your car, everything you owned was inside Bradley's house. Over the last few weeks, Natasha helped you load up his Bronco and make a few trips down, but she looked at you like you were crazy when you told her you were going to leave most things packed up for now.

"Why?" she asked, leaning on a stack of boxes in the living room. "Even if he gets stationed in Norfolk, you'll finish out your school year here before he sells the house."

But you didn't want him to sell his house. You loved it here. Being in his living space was the closest thing to being with him when he was deployed, and you didn't think it was fair that he might have to give this up. What would Edith do without Bradley to help her? What would Bradley do in a different state without his best friend? No, you simply couldn't unpack, just in case, but you also couldn't accept Virginia with any finality until you were explicitly told it was happening.

"I just wish I could talk to him," you whispered.

"Soon," Nat replied, and you jumped, surprised to find you weren't alone in your thoughts. "I just moved a million boxes. I deserve a trip to the wine bar, and so do you. Bradley will be back soon enough."

"Nine days. Not soon enough." 

It was nine days until he was supposed to get back to Norfolk. On Valentine's Day. Then right after that, it was Career Day at your school. You had been holding onto a few of the envelopes and gift cards from him, trying to make them last, but you were almost out. You needed the real thing again.

Natasha groaned. "You are so in love with him, it's kind of gross. Let's go drink wine, and I'll tell you more tales from before the mustache."

You took one more look at the few unopened letters lined up on the coffee table before grabbing the gift card for the wine bar. But even southern California looked gloomy on the drive up. The wine was good, but you were just tired. Natasha told you all about how she tried to give Bradley the call sign Chicken Man, and you laughed at the idea of that emblazoned along the side of his jet. She also seemed to be able to tell just how melancholy you were.

"You're doing great," she told you, setting down her wine glass. "You're counting down the hours until you can talk to Bradley again. Vanessa would have probably been too busy with her water bottles to remember to pick him up from the airport. There's a reason why it's hard, and it's because he loves you as much as you love him."

You did your best to keep it together after that, but there was a lump in your throat, holding back your emotions, and when you got back home, you started crying on the couch. Big, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, blurring your vision, but you knew which envelope you were reaching for.

Open me when you've had a bad day

As you tore into the envelope, you realized there was another envelope inside it. The second envelope said Take me to The Bayside Florist and give me to someone who works there.

"What is this, Bradley?" you whispered out loud, reaching for your phone to see if the shop was still open this late on a Saturday. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized they closed in an hour, and you grabbed the envelope along with your phone and keys and ran out to your car.

In a matter of minutes, you parked in front of an adorable flower shop with The Bayside Florist in pink lettering on the awning. You felt a little silly taking the envelope inside, but when you were greeted by an older woman with a warm smile, you started to hand it to her.

"This might sound odd, but my boyfriend is deployed, and he left me this envelope," you said with a laugh. "Apparently I was supposed to bring it here?"

The woman adjusted her glasses as a smile found her lips. "Oh, yes. I remember him. Tall? With a mustache? Handsome?"

You bit your lip to keep from making an embarrassing noise. "Yeah, that sounds just like him."

She nodded and opened the envelope, humming in agreement with whatever she read inside. "I have something for you. Wait right here." 

Then she disappeared through a doorway, and you walked around the inside of the shop, examining the arrangements and enjoying the scent of so many types of flowers mingling together. You weren't quite sure what Bradley had up his sleeve from thousands of miles away, but you were almost positive it was about to make your day so much better.

"Special delivery from your boyfriend."

Startled, you spun around to see a stunning bouquet of flowers in every color on the counter, complete with an envelope tucked in amidst the blooms. "That's for me?" you whispered.

"From your boyfriend," she confirmed.

You stifled a whimper as you reached for the flowers. "Am I supposed to pay for this?"

"He already did."

Tears stung your eyes as you pulled the envelope that said Gorgeous from between two roses. It was written in his handwriting. You thought you should read it in the privacy of your own car, so you thanked the woman and then headed back outside. Once you were sitting behind the steering wheel, you set the flowers aside in favor of the note.

Gorgeous,

I never want you to have a bad day, but I really hate that you're having one when I'm not with you. If I could be anywhere in the world right now, I'd choose to be next to you. Will you write about your day in your journal so we can talk about it later? I can't wait to talk about everything with you. I love you.

Bradley

Now that the tears started, you just let yourself cry.

--------------------------

Constantly wondering if your boyfriend was even okay was taking a toll on you. Your classroom was supposed to be your safe haven right now. Your place of comfort. Your refuge. But a few days before Bradley was supposed to get back into Norfolk, you were short and snippy with your class. You didn't mean to be, but it was happening anyway.

"Just sit down," you told Oliver, voice taking on a sharp, scolding edge that was usually never there. All eighteen of your kids sat with their backs straight in their seats and their hands folded on their desks like they were worried you were going to start yelling. This was never how you wanted to conduct your class. These kids were really well behaved for the most part, and you wanted them to have a lot of fun mixed in with their school lessons.

You turned away from them to try to catch your breath. The past few nights had been filled with restless sleep and a pain in your heart that wouldn't go away until you knew Bradley was safe. You cleared your throat, trying so hard to figure out what you wanted to say for your social studies lesson, but you couldn't shake your mind free from the anxiety you were feeling.

Picturing the flowers that you put in a Miller High Life pitcher you found in the kitchen after Bradley didn't appear to own a vase made you smile enough that you were able to turn around again.

"I need everyone to open their textbook to page eighty-seven." The only sound was pages rustling as you added, "And I promise I'll make this a fun unit for us."

When you finally left work that afternoon, you decided to let yourself open the last envelope from Bradley. It had been in your tote bag for a few days, just waiting for the right moment. Open me when you really want some coffee. You could clearly use the extra caffeine today, so you tore into the envelope as you walked across the parking lot. Just like before, there was an envelope inside the first envelope. 

Take me to Starbucks and give me to someone who works there.

Now you were smiling. You got to go to another place of business with an envelope like an absolute lunatic, and you were really looking forward to it. You stopped at the Starbucks closest to your school, and when you handed the envelope to the girl who tried to take your order, she raised one eyebrow.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I think it's kind of a treasure hunt of sorts from my boyfriend who is deployed," you told her with a shrug. 

Then you watched her open the envelope and remove a note along with a gift card. Her eyes skimmed the text, and her face transformed into the sappiest smile. "Oh my god," she said, looking back up at you. "I wish someone loved me this much," she muttered and then turned away from you, reaching for the biggest cup and a Sharpie.

You waited awkwardly for a few minutes while she made your drink. You could tell it was your favorite drink. Bradley somehow ordered your favorite drink for you to enjoy. Warmth filled your body, and you accepted the cup from her. "Thanks," you murmured as she paid using the gift card, and that's when you realized she had written something on the cup.

Gorgeous, I love you. I can't wait to come home. Bradley

"Does he have a brother?"

You looked up at the girl who made your coffee. "What?" you asked, taking the note and the gift card from her. 

"Does your boyfriend have a brother? Because that note is the sweetest thing I've ever seen."

You shook your head, but you were smiling. "No. No brother. Sorry. Thanks for making my coffee."

As you walked outside you read the note, already feeling calmer at the sight of his hand writing. 

Dear Starbucks Employee,

The beautiful woman who handed you this envelope is my girlfriend. I am desperately in love with her, and I would be there with her if I could, but I'm fucking deployed, if you can believe it. Please make her favorite drink for her, and if you wouldn't mind, please write 'Gorgeous, I love you. I can't wait to come home. Bradley' on the cup? Thank you so much.

He had scrawled your favorite drink to your exact specifications below that, and it even tasted perfect. You spent the ride back to Coronado planning out your upcoming Monday. If Bradley arrived back to Virginia on time, you'd be hearing from him by then. Every fiber of your being was hoping he'd call and tell you to pick him up in San Diego, but if he had to stay in Norfolk, you'd take a day off from work to fly out and see him. You had to. You wouldn't be able to go an extra minute without him now. You wanted to hug him and kiss him and give him a blowjob. You needed to feel his hands on your body and listen to his voice while you ran your fingers along his scars. 

Monday couldn't get here fast enough.

-----------------------------

The only thing Bradley wanted to do right now was get his phone in his fucking hands, but he thought that if he brought it up again, someone would tell him the thing had been mysteriously misplaced. He already asked for it three times. He'd been dropped back in Norfolk by air transport, and after a short debrief with a national security team, he would hopefully be allowed to be on his way.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw. This way."

He was led into a medical facility first where his bruises and strained neck were examined and the findings were documented. When he realized he got caught up in a dog fighting scenario with the other aviators, he had been more angry than anything else. Didn't these people know he had a perfect girlfriend to get back home to? Did they even care? He made it out mostly unscathed and back to the carrier deck safely, if not a little sore. The one thing that made him almost laugh was the fact that Cyclone would undoubtedly see his medical report, and there was a good chance Admiral Walker would hear from him again.

After the medical consultation, he was led into a debriefing room where he really didn't have much to say about the mission. It had been successful, sure, but he wasn't going to be allowed to discuss it with anyone after this, so he just stuck to answering the questions he was asked.

Then finally, he was given his phone and left on his own. Of course it was nearly dead when he turned it on, but it should be good enough to reach you. Talking to you would come as his top priority before figuring out how he was getting home, but that was a close second. His heart pounded in anticipation of hearing your voice after so many weeks.

It was barely six in the morning in San Diego. Maybe you were up and getting ready for work, but maybe you were still sleeping. It didn't matter. He needed you to know he was coming home. He tapped on your photo, pulling up your contact information as the warm sun and cold Virginia air hit his skin at the same time, and he shivered as soon as the phone stopped ringing. Your voice in his ear was his reward. 

"Bradley!"

"Gorgeous," he sighed, suddenly so exhausted, he could barely stand. One word from you, and all he wanted to do was curl up on his couch with his head on your lap and let you take care of everything.

"Bradley!" You shrieked this time, and he smiled.

"Baby, I'm coming home."

"For good?" you asked, voice soft with an edge of concern that he wanted nothing more than to ease away. "Or just long enough to pack some things and head back to Norfolk?"

He hoisted his duffle onto his shoulder and started walking. "I'm coming home for good. Coming home to you."

---------------------------------

He's safe and he's coming home! I'm working on mapping out the remaining chapters of this story, so if there's something you want to read about, hit me up. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 23

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

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@khaylin27

[miley1442111]

safe- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

you and aaron have jack (obvi) and a daughter, ellie. :) (1.4k + words)

summary: you become an unsubs target

pairing: husband/dad aaron hotchner x wife/mother reader

warnings: general cm minds topics, knives, stitches, head wounds, trauma talk of harm coming to the team, the reader is harmed, etc.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There you stood, your own blood as well as another's blood all over your body. 

What happened? 

You were just leaving work, you were going to pick up Jack and Ellie on your way home. It was taco night, you three would cook together tonight, though since Aaron was on a case a few states over, you would be the only ones doing it. So, how did that exact same unsub get to you?

You sat in the ambulance, stitches going into your skin, but you weren’t even flinching, you didn’t even feel it. You knew Jack and Ellie were expecting you, so was Jessica. 

“Can I make a phone call?” You whispered to the paramedic. She nodded her head, sympathy on her face. “Thank you.”

You pulled out your phone as she finished the stitches in your head, moving onto the ones in your arms. 

“Hey Jess,” You sighed into the phone. 

“Hey, is everything alright?” she asked. “Do you want me to take Jack and Ellie for the night?” 

You could honestly cry at her generosity. “Yes please, thank you so much Jess.”

“No problem,” she smiled, worried from the other line. “Are you hurt?” she whispered. 

“I’ll be ok, someone just… yeah,’ you sighed. “Tell Jack and Ellie I love them, yeah?”

“Always.”

You hung up. The paramedic finished up and the officer who had been sitting with you for the past few minutes escorted you to a squad car and brought you to the station, informing you that the FBI were on their way. The FBI, really? Surely it wasn’t Aaron, right?

God, you missed Aaron. You’d never wanted to see him more in your life. Just to know he was ok, that he was there. 

Such luxuries could not be afforded at that current moment. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron sat beside David on the plane, exhaustion pulling at his eyes as Spencer read out the latest attack. 

“Oh, apparently there was one survivor,” Spencer said. “That might be his next target.”

“We should look into them, what’s the name?” David asked as Aaron yawned. 

“Y/n Y/l/n, she has a son, daughter, and husband,” Spencer said, and Aaron was wide-awake again. 

“Pardon?” He asked, hoping he’d heard wrong. 

“Y/n Y/l/n. She was beaten pretty badly and had a head wound and a stab to the arm, she’s at the station now. SHe agreed to a cognitive interview. She’s a professor of nuclear physics at a university nearby-” Spencer reads off. 

“She has more pHds than boy genius, 5 and counting,” Penelope interrupts him from the screen. 

“Well, she is older than me,” he stressed, attempting to keep some of his pride. 

“By what, 4 years?” Emily snorted, the rest of the team laughed, but Aaron was frozen. 

A head wound? You got stabbed? He felt faint. Immediately, he reached into his pocket to grab his phone, trying to call you. 

You didn’t pick up.

He tried again as the team stared at him in bewilderment. What was he doing?

No answer again.

“Sir-”

“I want a profile before we leave this plane,” he ordered and the team all stared at him. “Is that too much for you?” He asked snarkily. They all shook their heads and began breaking off into groups to work. Aaron stayed seated, a million thoughts running through his head at once. Was Jack ok? Was Ellie ok? How much blood did you lose? Was the unsub already on his way to you again? Were you a target because of him?

“Hotch I think we have something,” Morgan stated after 30 minutes. “The unsub is targeting women with the same description as the survivor. I'd say he’s a college student who is jealous of her husband. He’s formed a parasocial relationship and obsession with her and his delusions have led him to hurt those closest to her. It makes sense she’s beautiful, described as being extremely kind and caring about her students, she’s ridiculously intelligent, and apparently she and her husband are madly in love with each other. What’s her husband’s name Pen?” Derek asked, looking at the computer. 

“Aaron Hotchner,” she said, a gasp following her words. Aaron looked up, meeting the eyes of the team as they stared back, shocked. 

He could deal with them later. 

“Send police to Jessica's house,” he ordered before he got up to go to the back of the plane for a moment of peace. He took out his phone, dialling Jessica’s number.

“Hey, is Y/n ok?” She asked. “I have Jack and Ellie right now, are you with her?”

“Not yet, I’ve sent police to your house, just as extra protection, ok?”

“Alright Aaron. Take care of her when you see her, she seemed pretty shaken.”

“Course,” he gritted out and hung up. This was going to be difficult. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in an office, a cop’s jacket strung over your shaking shoulders. You were still covered in blood, you still saw the horrible image of one of your students being killed in front of you.

Where was Aaron? 

 “Can I go and clean up?” You sniffled, asking the sheriff who was sitting at his desk beside you. 

“Course sweetheart,” she smiled softly. “There’s a bathroom down the hall, if you want a shower there’s one in the training centre.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling smaller than you ever had. You were told to be careful with your stitches and that you’d be brought into the hospital in the morning once all of the stuff with the station was over. You walked down the hall to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, staring at your bloodstained face and clothes. The tears started falling, going down the drain with a red-tinge. 

You grabbed some tissue, wet it, and started scrubbing your face. The ache of your body was nothing to the turmoil in your head. Was it your fault one of your students was killed? Was Jack ok? Was Ellie ok? Was Aaron ok? 

You didn’t even notice him coming behind you until he took the tissue out of your hand. He discarded it, damped the towel from his go-bag in his hand, lightly washing your face. Tears fell freely as he did so, but he wiped them away, a comforting hand on your lower back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your clean cheek. He continued his gentle cleaning, bringing it down to your neck.

“I’m sorry too.” 

He smiled softly. “You don’t have to apologise for anything.”

“Neither do you, but we do it anyway.”

His emotions became too much all of a sudden, the feeling of nearly losing you becoming unthinkable. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered.  

“I love you too.”

After Aaron sufficiently cleaned as much of the blood off of you as he could, he took your blood-stained shirt off and replaced it with one of his extra dress shirts. Walking outside the bathroom, you felt eyes on the both of you. You recognised some of the team from stories and photos Aaron had shown you. They stared as Aaron wrapped you into his side and walked you back into the sheriff’s office. 

“I want the kids,” you admitted. “I know we shouldn’t but I’m so worried that they're not ok,” you cried into his bicep as he sat beside you. 

“I’ll send one of the team to grab them and Jess,” he nodded.

“Please don’t leave,” you whimpered, holding onto him for dear life. You needed him. 

“Of course not, honey,” he soothed. He signalled for Derek to come in. He walked in, careful of your feelings. “Will you go to Jessica’s house and pick up Jessica, Jack, and Ellie?”

“Of course sir, but… who’s Ellie?” he whispered the last part. 

“My daughter,” Aaron said and Derek went wide-eyed.

“I’ll be right back with them,” he promised. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Darling, do you feel up to telling me about it? Or even just something?" he whispered against your skin.

"I know who did it," you whispered back. You felt such guilt. You knew the unsub, he was one of your students Andrew. Andrew was obsessed with you, with your life, but you just took it as a student being interested in your life to get out of work. You didn't pay enough care to the way his interest dampened when you spoke about Aaron and when you talked about your anniversaries or dates.

"Honey-"

"His name's Andrew. He's in my chemical sciences class."

Aaron was silent for a moment. "Alright. I'll send officers his way."

"I'm so stupid, I didn't even realise-" you started but Aaron shushed you with a gentle kiss.

"Don't talk about my wife like that," he joked. You chuckled softly and he felt a sense of great accomplishment.

"I'm so glad you're here," you sighed into his neck.

"I'm so glad I'm here too."

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You're married?" Derek asked.

"Yes," Aaron admitted as he ran a hand through your hair as you lay on his lap asleep, Ellie and Jack playing by the sheriff's desk.

`'And you have another child," Penelope said, shock apparent in her voice and facial expression.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Spencer asked.

"I wanted to keep her safe," Aaron smiled. "I also just assumed you'd figure it out. Clearly you're not all as good as you think you are," he chuckled.

The team collectively rolled their eyes, but still smiled. Aaron was happy, you were safe, another unsub was awaiting jail, and they could almost feel the love radiating off of Aaron.

All was well.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :)

[sweets3rial]

Blinded !

Kinktober Oct 9 !

re4!leon x mercenary!reader

summary: he can't see. all he can do is feel; feel her curves, the warmth of her skin, and her shuddering breaths against the shell of his ear

tags: TW!!: dubcon and mild non-con themes, enemies/lovers trope, bondage, blindfold, sub to dom leon, mentions of past relationship/memories, slight knifeplay, mentions of cuts and blood, re4 setting, yearning, doomed love, teasing, smut, the tiniest bit of fluff, rough sex, oral (f! receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, pussy slapping, cowgirl, creampie, etc.

word count: 5.2k

be sure to check out my kinktober masterlist to see what's coming up in the future ;D!

the reverberating sound of heels clacking surrounded him. slowly and slowly getting closer. his jaw clenched, and his nails were digging into his palm. he was denying his anxiety, his fear, there was no doubt that a woman was walking towards him but he was in a vulnerable state.

he couldn’t see her. a black cloth was placed around his eyes, and he could only see a faint image of her silhouette, but she was just a blur due to the room’s low light.

he struggled against his restraints with a low grunt. handcuffs, no doubt, ones way too tight for his wrists. the metal dug into his skin, making him feel even more restrained. the footsteps stopped before him, and the sudden realization felt like a heavy weight on his shoulders…he recognized that perfume.

you must’ve noticed his realization, and a small scoff left your lips.

“never thought I’d catch the Leon Kennedy like this,” you mocked, placing a hand on your hip as you stared down at him. a sense of pride swelled in your chest. finally, you are the one looking down on him and not the other way around.

“and i never thought we’d meet again, at least not like this,” a small grin appeared at the corner of his lips. he was trying to cover up the millions of thoughts running through his head. why now? why do you appear now of all times? where have you been? why hasn’t he heard from you in months?

a small, bemused scoff left your lips. you stepped forward, dragging your heel behind her. you leaned forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, which caused him to jump. you’re in control; he no longer has this hold over you like he has all these years. you’re triumphant. you win.

years of playing cat and mouse have always ended up one way or another: in bed or with painful scars — both physically and emotionally.

“did you miss me?” you whispered, loud enough so he could hear you but low enough to where no one else could. shivers ran down his spine, and he adjusted his posture, leaning forward so he was beside the shell of your ear. you were warm, and the smell radiating from the sweet spot on your neck was dragging him in, pulling him closer and closer to you without any restraint.

he was helpless, tied up, and blindfolded, but also because you were his weakness. he hated to admit it, but it was true. days and nights he’s spent contemplating leaving his job and giving up on his job to pursue a life with her.

but he knew it could never happen, and it probably won’t ever happen. at the end of the day, passionate nights mean nothing. when the morning comes around, you both have to face the daunting reality. you have duties. duties that drive them against each other more often than you are brought together.

“quit the act and tell me what you want,” he bellowed.

to her, this was no act. did you miss me, Leon? do you feel the same way i do? do you feel the anger? the guilt for being angry and the confusion?

you pursed your lips together, peeling away from him slowly and letting your fingertips drag down his shoulders. you stepped back.

“you know what i want, Leon,” your steps began to circle him. “give me the amber, and both of us can walk away peacefully,”

the sound of a knife being slid from its sheath slowly made its way to his ears. he turned his head, following you as you stepped behind him.

“you know i can’t do that,”

you stopped. directly behind him. then, the feeling of a cold blade was pressed to his neck. his body tensed up as he tried to lean away from the edge of the blade.

that’s when he felt your lips brush up against the shell of his ear, “i don’t want to hurt you,”

further, the knife dug into his skin. he clenched his teeth, keeping a small wince hidden. it stung, but it stung even more because it was her.

“too late for that, isn’t it?” he snapped, and he could feel your tense up as a response.

and it was just the response he wanted. he wanted you to feel that guilt, he wanted you to know how you make him feel.

the nights you’ve left him in a cold bed, alone and vulnerable. the promises you’ve broken. the meaningless words and the endless lies.

you stood up straight, and the knife left his neck, slicing his skin even deeper. a small, surprised wince left his lips as you stepped back.

your fingers found the back of his neck, your nails slowly creeping up into his hair. he fell weak. the feeling was so familiar to him, your fingers tugging at his blonde strands and your nails scratching at his scalp.

he was pathetic. his eyes fluttering shut and chills running through him. a low hum escaped his lips, his head tilting to the side as he both tried to shake you off and lean into you more.

that was the problem. you knew everything. not only his job, where he lived, his name, and life but also just what could make him fold. small and gentle kisses, soft scratches at his scalp, whispers in his ears, and your smile. your damn smile.

if he wasn’t blindfolded, he would probably be in a much worse state than he is now.

“Leon, Leon, Leon,” you sighed, almost disappointed. your fingers traveled back down his neck, hooking the collar of his navy blue t-shirt.

“what do you want me to say?” you waltzed back around him, now standing in front of him. with a heavy sigh, you dropped into a squat, crossing your arms over his lap and leaning your cheek against his thigh.

he was growing hot. god, he could only imagine the look on your face. those fake pouty lips and those sly eyes looking up at him with a pleading and pawing at him like a cat. more like a fox.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you scooted forward a bit more, your hands practically splayed over his crotch. “i’m sorry that i’ve hurt you, but i’ve changed, i promise,”

Leon’s teeth began to nip at his bottom lip, you know what you do to him, and continue to use that to his advantage. his breath hitched as your fingers came up to toy with the belt buckle of his pants.

“i’m a good girl now, i’ve always been your good girl,” you were messing with him; tugging at the strings of his heart and also at the hardening cock in his pants.

you could feel it, pulsing on the purchase of his thigh, filling up with blood with every small touch and sly word.

“that’s the problem with you, Leon,” your tone was quick to change. “you allow it. you allow me to hurt you, you allow me back into your life, you don’t even fight it,”

how can i? he thought. how can i when it’s you? you’re all i’ve wanted. you’re all i need. even if i wanted to turn you away, my heart won’t allow me.

you let your head fall into his lap. it’s so odd. even in a situation like this, you find yourself feeling comforted in Leon’s lap. even though he’s tied up and bleeding from a cut on his neck.

if it was just them in the comfort of his apartment, his hands would card through the locks of your hair and massage your scalp. you would nuzzle into his abdomen and he would chuckle as he buried his nose further into the daily newspaper.

why did things have to end up this way? why couldn’t you walk a different path? maybe in another universe, you and Leon weren’t rivals but rather friends or even lovers. touch

but this isn’t another universe. you were doomed from the moment you met.

“you’re right,” he admitted, “i can’t fight against you because even if i do,” he looked down at her. he could see you faintly through the black fabric of his blindfold, laying helplessly in his lap.

only if this was another one of those passionate nights.

“you’ll come crawling back into my lap anyways,”

an unamused scoff left your lips. he was right. even if he pushed you away, fought against you, and kicked you to the curb. you’d come crawling back, scratching at his door like a stray cat.

and he’d open the door and let you back in again.

and you could be gone for months maybe even years without any contact and he’d still sit on his porch, waiting for your return.

with a sigh, you took the tip of your knife and began to drag it in circles around the imprint of his cock. his femur muscles tensed up and his toes curled inside of his boots.

“you say you hate me and how revolted you feel when you think of me,” taking your thumb, you pressed down onto the tip of his cock, emitting a low groan from his parted lips.

“but i think you’re lying,” you began to draw circles with your finger at the tip of his dick. the friction from his jeans was only adding pleasure along with the pressure of your thumb.

you looked up at him from his lap, eyes wide at the way he was struggling to keep a straight face. his eyebrows were twitching, beads of sweat formed at his hairline and his chest was heaving up and down.

he was keeping his mouth shut, preventing any unwanted moans from slipping out; knowing that it would only feed your drive.

“when i cross your mind, is it really hate that you feel?” your thumb smoothed along his shaft moving closer and closer to the base.

“or does the thought of me make your heart rate peak and your dick swell?” he adjusted his lap, pushing his hips forward into your hand.

“stop,” he grumbled, biting down on his lip even harder. he didn’t want you to stop. he wanted you to take what was hers. he wanted to feel your plump lips wrap around the sticky tip of his cock.

he wanted to feel your warm mouth envelop his dick until tears brimmed in your eyes and you were struggling to breathe.

“tell me, Leon,” your tongue lolled out, kitty licking at his jean-clad cock. he wanted to grab you so bad; pin you down and rip off whatever garments you had on. but he was locked in place.

your saliva was slowly starting to seep through his jeans and his boxers. he could practically feel your tongue slowly licking up at the pre cum dripping from his swollen tip.

“what do you think of when i cross your mind?”

god. when he thinks of you he can’t help but feel the ache in his heart.

images of your prancing around his house in his clothes. your fit so much bigger, falling mid-thigh and draping off your shoulders. every time you reach up he catches a glimpse of your plump ass and the little panties you wear underneath.

he thinks of waking up next to you; you’re propped up on your elbow toying with strands of his blonde hair with your fingers. you’re still naked and you’re smiling down at him, welcoming him with a morning kiss.

he thinks of you spread out beneath him; your skin is wet and sticky with sweat. your fingers are curled in his sheets and you’re burying your head into his pillows — muffling the sweet moans of his name.

he thinks of holding you against him, rocking his hips into yours, and drawing out quiet and sleepy mewls from your plump lips.

then the image of you walking away crosses his mind. you look back at him once and then he doesn’t see you again.

but you’ll never know that. because he’ll never tell you.

and you know that. your question will always remain unanswered but that’s okay.

standing up from your position, you leaned forward until you were face to face. he was still breathing heavily, you could see his eyes moving about curiously from underneath his blindfold.

you reached up, swiping your thumb over his bottom lip. there was a small cut, now scabbed over but still very swollen and new. it was probably from when he fell after you hit him in the back of the head.

“i guess you’ll never answer me, huh?” you whispered, mostly to yourself but you knew that he heard. you grabbed his chin, tilting his head up slightly and he willingly followed your guide.

he was leaning towards you, blindly trying to find your lips. you couldn’t say no, leaning in closer you let your lips connect with his. a soft and slow kiss, one that is rarely shared between you two.

he needed you against him. you were too far. he needed to see you. he needed to touch you. he was deliberately twisting the chains of the handcuffs, hoping that the pressure would cause them to snap.

he was also tugging at the rope that kept his ankles tied to the legs of the chair. he needed to be set free.

not because he wanted to escape, but solely because he wanted to touch you. he could care less about whether you wanted the amber or not.

he knew what you wanted more. and that was him.

he leaned further up into your lips, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip swaying you to lean your head to the side and allow his tongue to push up against yours.

the iron taste on his lips was invading yours, his blood was warm and fresh, staining your lips like the sweet juice of a strawberry.

you moaned into his mouth, crawling into his lap with your knees on the lateral side of his thighs. he groaned at the sudden pressure of your hips on his. he ground his hips up into yours, desperate to feel any kind of friction.

your mouth dropped open into a shaky moan, and you began to grind your hips down to match his pace.

“fuck, you’re wearing that skirt aren’t you?” he groaned into your lips.

“your favorite,” you smirked. only if he could see you in it, just so he could tear it off of you anyway. that tight black skirt that hugged your curves so perfectly and the way your belt would hang loosely on your hips.

fuck, he could see it now. you bit down on his bottom lip, drawing out more blood from his cut. he winced, but it turned him on more than it hurt him. you were consuming him slowly, part of him will always be inside of you, whether it was the small drops of blood coming from his lips or the weight of him in your heart.

“are you wearing my favorite pair?” he asked breathlessly. he was trying to distract you, distract you from the fact his left foot was now free, and the chains of the handcuffs were slowly starting to lock. he just needs one more foot and for this damn chain to break, then he’ll finally be able to touch you.

it’s the one thing he wants the most.

you let out a small chuckle, “what do you think i’m using to blindfold you?”

fuck. so your bare pussy is rubbing up against the bulge in his pants, god. your lips moved from his, across his jaw, down his neck, and stopped at the cut you gave him earlier. you flattened your tongue over the dry blood dripping from his cut.

you nipped at the reopened cut with your teeth, causing him to falter. like a vampire, you sucked greedily at his neck, your hands running up and down his abdomen. he was helpless beneath you, and god, it was bad. he was praying for strength, praying you wouldn’t leave him like this, praying he’d get a taste of the sweetness dripping from your cunt.

finally, his right foot was free, and you were still unaware. he couldn’t help but smile a bit. you were so oblivious, driven by the lust running through your veins, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t as well.

then, snap!

he’s got you.

the sound of the chains breaking sounded through the room, and your breath hitched. at first, you thought it was something from behind the door, but you were mistaken. a strong arm wrapped around your waist and a hand gripped the back of your head.

one minute, you were seated in his lap, and the next, you were being slammed to the ground beneath you.

the air was knocked out of you, and your vision was a blur. it didn’t take you long to realize that Leon had escaped from his restraints. he was hovering above you, one hand keeping your wrists locked together above your head and the other holding your thighs apart.

you whined as your bare wet clit was exposed to the crisp, cold air. you arched up into him with great anticipation. he didn’t need to see to know the ways of your body. he didn’t need to see to know how to devour your sweet pussy or to suck at your pretty clit. he didn’t need to see to know how to fuck you dumb. all he needed was his hands and the cock pulsing in his pants.

“got you,” he heaved, hovering directly above your face.

you watched as the tip of his nose traveled from your chin down your neck, your sternum, your abdomen, all the way until he was in between your thighs. he kept a hold of your wrists, bringing them down from above your head so that they’re rested on your stomach. he was using muscle memory alone to map out where to be and what to do.

oh, how the tables have turned. now he’s in control.

he parted your quivering lips with his two fingers, using his thumb to lift the hood of your clit before his nose came to nudge at it gently. a small whine left your mouth, and your hips bucked up into his mouth.

“Leon,” your tone was both stern and pathetic at the same time. you didn’t know whether you wanted to order him around or beg him. he could feel how needy you were, dripping all over his fingers and legs quivering.

“you want to know what I think about, huh?” he asked, flattening his tongue over your slit and licking up to your clit. a deep moan left your mouth, and your back left the ground, arching into the air. “i think about you like this,”

his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking hard. you choked on your breath, your nails digging into your palms and the heel of your shoe digging into his back. his lips left your clit with a pop, “all spread out for me, quivering and struggling against my grip,” he continued.

his fingers teased the ring of muscle around your hole, and he could feel the way you were clenching around absolutely nothing. he spat onto your cunt, causing you to jump, that’s when he let his middle finger sink into your aching cunt.

a shiver ran through you, and your mouth dropped open into a gasp. your gummy walls clenched around him, sucking him in and begging for more. “i think about this pretty pussy,” he curled his finger upwards into that spongy spot that had you trembling.

“how tight it is, how wet it gets for me, how it tastes, and how it reacts to my touch,” his tongue flicked over your clit repeatedly as he sunk another finger into you.

“Leon!” you whined, digging your heel further into his back, and it hurt like hell.

“I think of your voice and how beautiful it is and how i yearn for you to say my name,” he was breathless now, focused completely on your pleasure and his. endless moans slipped past your lips; now you were completely enveloped by the pleasure and the passion, the lust and the heat.

wet squelches of your cunt sounded throughout the room, along with his heavy breaths and your moans. you were dripping on the floor beneath you, dripping all over his fingers and palms. it’s been so long since you were underneath him like this, and he was between your thighs.

it was your favorite sight. his hair was all messy, sticking to your inner thighs. even with your black panties tied around his blue eyes, but you knew you were staring at you. his cheeks were flushed red, and his eyebrows were turned upwards. this was pleasurable for him, too.

he loved nothing more than being suffocated by your plump thighs and sucking the sweet essence that dripped from your cunt.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” he breathed out. his fingers kept up at the same pace, curling up against your sweet spot repeatedly. it was driving you mad, every moan you let out and every breath you took in only made you dizzier and dizzier. every curl of his fingers and every flick of his tongue was driving you closer to the edge.

“i’m close,” you whined, writhing underneath him and clamping your legs around his head. he groaned into your clit, the vibration sending you off the edge. you clamped around his fingers, the muscles of your thighs spasming as you inhaled a sharp breath.

you came, and you came hard. stars danced behind your eyes, and your mind went blank. it was like a shock ran through you, all your muscles tensed and then relaxed. he gave your clit one last kiss, then another to your abdomen, then up, up, up until he reached your chin.

you could smell your cunt on his lips, and he gave you a taste by placing a wet kiss on your lips. a wet kiss that turned into a passionate and deep makeout, with tongue and clacking teeth. one hand was running up and down your side; he was making a mental image of your figure. that way, it’s forever permeated into his mind.

he was making a picture of you in his head: the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, the dips of your ribs, your plump breasts, and your stomach. your hands were tugging at the buckle of his belt; you were hungry and desperate.

you needed to feel him inside of you and the drag of his tip as he pounded in and out of you. his hand left your hip, and he reached to help you take his belt off. you let him do the work, focusing on exploring his body with your hands.

the rippling muscles of his back and shoulders, the warmth that radiated off his skin, the smell of his fading cologne, and the gunpowder on his clothes. his lips were so warm, tainted with the taste of your cunt.

it was so sloppy, so rushed. no words were needed to express the passion and the deep need for each other.

you helped him, taking your feet to push his pants down his hips. he groaned as he was finally able to free his cock, his tip was a deep red-purple, almost like a bruise. thick veins ran up the side, filled with warm blood. his balls, heavy and taut.

“Leon, hurry,” you were caught off guard when his hand suddenly came down and slapped at your clit, hard. you jumped, an unsolicited moan slipping past your swollen pink lips. he did it again and again, getting rougher each time.

“don’t,” slap! “fucking,” slap! “rush me!” SLAP!

“Leon!” you exclaimed.

you arched your back, feeling another orgasm inching closer. he grabbed the base of his cock again, bringing his tip down towards your clit. he slapped his heavy cock against your clit; it was so different this time because now you could feel the warmth of his pre-dripping onto you.

“fuck,” he cursed, pressing his tip into you, and as his tip stretched past that ring of muscle, you found yourself scratching down his arms and struggling to breathe. he was only feeding you his tip, thrusting it in, then out and in again. each time, it left you with a wet pop!

“look how patient you’re being,” he thrust in only a few more inches, teasing you but also himself. “see what you get when you’re patient,”

“fuck you,” you seethed, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping the collar of his shirt, you flipped the two of you over; now he was on his back, and you were on top. you sunk onto the rest of his length, the sudden intrusion caused both of you to gasp.

your hips stilled, taking time to adjust, and his hands came to grip your thighs with a vice grip. your toes curled inside your heels, your skirt now resting around your hips, and your shirt under your bust. one of your hands rested on his chest while the other gripped at his jaw.

“you just don’t ever shut up, do you?” you spat, slowly beginning to rock your hips. you would laugh if you could see the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head. you were so fucking tight, so warm and wet, but made perfectly for him.

one of his hands reached for your hip, guiding you up and down the length of his cock.

“you piss me off,” your voice grew weak towards the end as his tip brushed up against your cervix.

“says the one who’s taking my dick so greedily,” his hips snapped up into yours, giving you a taste of what he could give you, and it was good. a loud moan lolled off your tongue. your hips are faltering, and your hips are bucking. he let out a breathless chuckle, “can’t even ride me anymore, you that eager, baby?”

he planted his feet onto the ground, gripping your hips, and thrust up into you hard. you slapped your hand over your mouth, preventing any other moans from slipping out, but even that failed. every thrust was like a ball of fire erupting inside of you; heat surged through every vein of your body, and you could feel it simmering down in your core.

“fuck, Leon,” you cried out.

you were a complete mess, digging your nails into his chest and crying like a pathetic bitch. it was so good, the pulsing of his cock, the drags of his swollen tip, and the way he hit your g-spot repeatedly with no fail. he was making a complete mess out of you, and you were letting him.

his balls slapped up against your ass, wet and heavy, eliciting the most lewd sounds.

“take it, baby, take it,”

you collapsed on top of him, letting him cage you against him as he continued to thrust into you. you sobbed into the crook of his neck, your knees and legs completely sore. his eyebrows knitted together as he struggled to keep his composure.

a ring of your juices mixed formed around the base of his cock and stuck to the tuft of dark brown hair at his abdomen. wet plats! and squelches were heard all around you, and you were completely blind to the fact that anyone could hear you.

“oh my god, take it,” he breathed out. you were reaching your second orgasm quickly, soaking his shirt with tears of bliss and drool, and he could tell from the way your walls were clamping down on the girth of his cock that you were close.

“want it inside, please! cum inside me, please,” you begged. he shut you up by grabbing a chunk of your hair and slamming his lips onto yours. you continued to moan and cry on his lips, struggling to kiss him back.

your mouth dropped open into a gasp as the tightness in your abdomen snapped like a rubber band. your thighs clamped on either side of his hips, and your walls clenched. you cried out his name as you came all over his cock, and he let out a deep grunt as he buried himself deep inside of you.

his fingertips dug into your back as he emptied his load inside of you, hot seed flooding your canal. you shivered at the feeling, wanting to crawl away from the overstimulation, but you kept yourself held down. he rolled his hips up, fucking his thick load into you deeper and deeper.

you both let out a deep breath, relaxing into each other and soaking in the bliss. he ran his hand up and down your back soothingly. his other was massaging at your scalp, a silent apology for pulling your hair earlier.

you sat up on his lap, his half-hard cock still sheathed deep inside of you. taking your thumb, you slipped it under his blindfold to slowly reveal him to the light. he squinted against the bright light, blinking rapidly to adjust to his surroundings.

he looked up at you. your hair a mess, your clothes wrinkled and dirty. your lips were swollen, and you were out of breath. you swiped your thumb over his bottom lip again, ogling the deep cut you gave him, both on his lip and his neck.

“did it hurt?” you asked quietly, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

he hummed into your lips and shook his head, “it’s fine,”

you pulled away, swiping away the dust beneath his eye and on his cheekbone. there you were, his sweet girl. so caring, so gentle. he knows deep down inside you don’t want to hurt him. you could’ve easily tortured him to answer, stabbed him in his thigh, and pulled out his teeth until he was rendered helpless.

but instead, you use your libido and sex appeal, you kiss him gently and clean his dirty face. this was the true torture, knowing that moments like these only last for a short while before you have to go back to hating each other again.

you stood up from his lap, his cock leaving you with a pop. as you stood up, you continued to leer down at him.

he rested his head back against the concrete before resolving to stand up as well.

“you knew i didn’t have it, didn’t you?” he groaned, tucking his dick back into his pants. you smiled to yourself, tugging your skirt back down your hips and dusting off the dust on your clothes.

it was obvious he didn’t have the amber, it wasn’t in his gear or any of his pockets when you searched him. you knew he didn’t have it from the start. you just needed an excuse to get him underneath you or on top of you.

before he could zip up his pants, you threw something at him. his quick reflexes allowed him to catch it before it dropped. when he opened his fist, he couldn’t help but smile a bit. your crinkled panties.

“expect me when you get home, Kennedy,” you smirked back at him, “i’m coming to take back what’s mine,”

he’ll never know if you meant your panties … or him.

divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest)

a/n: i apologize, i scheduled for this to post at 10:59 PM and i was wondering like ummm why am i not getting any notifs...turns out i scheduled it to post at 01:59AM .... so sorry guy :3! but i hope you enjoy this one :D!

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