#and said that i will get the rest later this week once my foot hurts less

[mystic-writings]

i want you to love me

PAIRING — dean winchester x fem!reader

SUMMARY — dean keeps coming back to see you. you keep letting him. it never seems to end well anymore, but neither of you can seem to stop. 

WARNINGS — angst, smut (unprotected p in v, slight praise kink), fwb-type relationship, hurt/no comfort, kidnapping, torture, violence, implied happy ending 

WORD COUNT — 10,414

NOTES — title from the fiona apple song of the same name; also yay first fully fledged smut fic & first later seasons spn fic! it kinda sucks lmao but i’m still getting used to not feeling so awkward when i write smut so whatevs

masterlist | taglist

Your relationship with Dean Winchester was little more than transactional. Ships passing in the night, so to speak. You only ever saw him when his Impala rumbled through town like a siren’s call, always followed by a text with a location and the expectation that you would show. 

You always showed. 

It was always a no strings attached kind of relationship. Always the same routine. Just one night of intense, burning passion every few weeks, and then he would be gone again and you would go back to your normal, civilian life. 

And then slowly, in the few times before he would leave, when Dean would stick around and chat for a little, something changed. You liked him. He was sweet, and kind. He loved his brother and saved the world more than a few times; not that anyone actually knew about it. He told you as much about himself as he was willing to share with a hookup, and you did the same. You showed him parts of yourself you weren’t sure most long-term boyfriends had seen before, but that was okay. Because it was always no strings attached. Just sex. Right?

It was how you ended up here. Bare legged beneath the sheets, wearing only a shirt and underwear as Dean sat at the corner of the bed, fully dressed, lacing up his boots. He was leaving again, like he always did, but this time the ache settling in your chest rested a little heavier than the other times. You could usually bear it, push it away and let the sting fade on the cab ride home, but something about this time just… hurt more. 

Your eyes burned into Dean’s back as he stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, turning to you as he shrugged it on and smoothed the collar down. 

“I’m headin’ out now, sweetheart,” he said like it was the most casual thing in the world. Like the way he called you ‘sweetheart’ didn’t deepen the already painful ache. 

You nodded, forcing yourself to try and sound casual as you said, “Okay.”

Dean paused near the foot of the bed, his brows furrowing as he looked at you, as though he was trying to find something hidden beneath your skin. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, nodding again. “Yeah, I’m fine,”

“Well you don’t look fine,” Dean persisted, stepping a little closer to the bed. “You’re frowning, sweetheart. I don’t know about you, but I thought we had a good time.” 

You cleared your throat and nodded, crossing your arms and trying to prepare yourself for the choice you were about to make. “We did,” you admitted softly. “That’s… sort of the problem here, Dean.” 

It took Dean a few moments to catch on, leaving you both to bask in thick, tense silence as his eyes met yours and his expression shifted from concerned to guarded within seconds. “You know how this works, sweetheart.” 

“I know,” you said quickly, defensive as you dropped your arms and toyed with the sheets, your gaze falling with it. “I just… I wish you’d stay the night, at least. Just once, y’know?”

“You know I can’t do that,” Dean sighed, stepping a little closer to the bed again. His expression was still guarded, but a little softer now. His jaw ticked when you looked back up at him, and he ran a hand through his cropped hair before he spoke again. “You’re a good friend—” Ouch. “—but I can’t… I can’t give you anything more than this. My life, it… doesn’t exactly leave much room for relationships.” 

Taking in a deep breath, you blinked hard and gnawed on the inside of your cheek. You already knew the answer to the question that fell from your lips, but you asked it anyway. “You don’t even want to try? At all?”

Dean’s expression hardened again, like he was upset at you for not seeing his point. But you didn’t. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen that part of his life before. Hell, it was how you two had met in the first place. “This isn’t about what either of us wants. This is about what I can’t give you, Y/n. I’m trying to keep you safe here. Staying away keeps you safe, don’t you get that?”

“Safe from what, Dean?” You nearly scoffed, bitter disappointment mixing with the hurt hollowing out your heart. “From you?”

“Yeah, from me.” Dean confirmed with a small nod, his voice hoarse but firm as he dipped his head to recollect himself before meeting your gaze. “From me. From the life. From everything. People get close to me and they… they get hurt. Every time. I don’t want that for you.” 

“I get it,” you said, the words coming out harsher than you had meant them to. Pausing, you took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “I do, Dean. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Every time you leave, I…” 

Dean sighed and approached the side of the bed, swallowing a lump in his throat as his hand twitched, like he had contemplated reaching for you but ultimately decided against it. “Maybe we should stop,” he suggested, his voice still hoarse and quiet as he looked at the floor. 

His words hit like a swift punch to the gut, the ache in your chest increasing tenfold, face falling and eyes wide as you stared at him as he stared at the ground. “You don’t mean that,” you finally said, firm and full of denial as you shook your head. 

Out of every way you thought this would end, you had simply never considered that it would be Dean calling it off. In every scenario, it had been you. Either by finding the courage to stop things for your own sake or by finding someone who made you feel anywhere near the way Dean does, it was always you ending it. Never him. 

When Dean didn’t speak again, only raising his head to meet your eyes with guilt ridden green irises, you swallowed and kept going, pure hurt in your voice as you spoke. “I would rather have some of you like this than not have you at all, Dean.” 

You watched as Dean tensed, hurt flashing across his face before he clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Don’t say that,” Dean insisted, his voice quiet and trembling. “Don’t. You deserve a hell of a lot more than this. You know that. I’m only gonna hurt you.”

“You’ll hurt me either way,” you told him, voice soft and solemn as you held his gaze. That ache in your chest grew deeper, cracking like a fissure and bleeding you dry. It had probably been there since long before you realized your feelings for Dean, but it had been growing slowly with each of his departures. You were finally feeling the whole of it now, and it felt like it was killing you. 

“You don’t need me,” Dean insisted, his voice full of pain and self-loathing. Didn’t you see that he was just trying to protect you? There was no easy way for this to end, he knew that, but at least this way you would be safe. Alive. He’d rather not have you and know you were alive than have you and watch you die bloody. 

You scoffed at him, the sound wet and thick as you shook your head. The fissure deepened slowly as you swallowed, trying desperately to ignore the pain. “Maybe I don’t need you,” you agreed softly. “But I want you, Dean. I want you in any way you’ll let me have you. Even if it’s just like this. Even if it’s only when you have time to spare to come and see me, to sleep with me. I’ll take it.” 

Dean’s heart ached, fighting back tears as his gaze softened, taking in the pain practically radiating off your words. He just wanted to do the right thing, but right now, seeing you so hurt because of him, sure as hell made him feel like it wasn’t. 

“You deserve a normal life,” Dean tried again, his voice shaking slightly as he tried desperately to get a handle on his emotions. As he tried to get through to you, to make you understand. “A house, a family, a couple kids. I can’t give you any of that. My life ain’t exactly easy, sweetheart. And at some point, you’ll regret being with me.” 

Something swelled up in your chest, burning hot and choking you as you listened to him. “I don’t regret a damn thing,” you insisted sharply, your words quick and defensive. “Not a damn thing, Dean. So don’t you ever say I could end up regretting choosing you. Not now, not in the future.” 

Dean gaped, sighing softly as he shook his head again, but you beat him to the punch. 

“And it’s not like I’ve ever really wanted those things to begin with, Dean.” You told him, voice softer now. “I don’t care about living the perfect life. I never have. You know that.” 

“I didn’t say you would have regrets now,” Dean insisted, taking a deep breath and crossing his arms as he stared down at you, taking the authoritative route, pain still hidden in his eyes despite his hardened expression. “I’m saying that you will, at some point. I know you will. Because you might think you’re okay with it now, but my life ain’t exactly sunshine and rainbows. You can say you’re okay with it, but you won’t be later on. I know you won’t. You deserve somebody who can give you everything you truly deserve, and I’m not that guy.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, the sound pained as you struggled to keep your tears at bay. But he lifted a hand and you stopped, closing your mouth. 

“I’m a hunter,” Dean said, his tone firm and gruff. “All I can give you is a couple nights out of the year. That’s it. Just some nights. And you… sweetheart, you deserve so much more than that.” 

Your heart ached, beating and bleeding in your chest when you realized your initial point wasn’t getting through to him. 

“Dean,” you pleaded again, your eyes searching his as you waited a moment to see if he would try to interrupt again. When he didn’t, you kept going, sitting up straighter in the bed, voice laced with a hint of agony and the desperate need to be understood. “I don’t care, okay? I don’t. Not anymore. I’ll take whatever you can give me without complaint, but I refuse to lose you like this. To lose seeing you in any way, even if all you can give me is a night or two every once in a while. I’ll take it,” 

You knew you sounded desperate, and it was everything you hated about those rom-coms your friends always loved to watch, but it was exactly what you were. Desperate. Desperate to keep Dean in your life in one way or another, however he wanted to be. 

For a moment, Dean nearly broke. The intensity in your voice was almost the chink in his armor, weakening his resolve but not quite pushing him over the edge. Dean had never had anyone be so willing to fight to keep him by their side like this, and especially not in the way you were doing it. You weren’t lashing out at him, yelling and demanding more from him than he could give. You were just asking. Asking if he would be willing to give what he could, and nothing more than that. 

And it seemed that understanding that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Because Dean knew he should call it quits and walk away, for both your sakes, but he found himself unable to. He found himself not wanting to. 

“Just…” you sighed again, the sound quiet and trembling as you broke your gaze from his and looked at your lap for a moment before returning your gaze to his. You swallowed hard, voice trembling and losing all intensity, falling back into a saddened softness as your brows furrowed. “Please, Dean. Don’t just walk away.” 

It was a raw, aching plea, and hearing it had shattered whatever remained of Dean’s willpower. Everything in him was screaming at him to run, to get away from you to save you from him and his cursed hands, but he just… couldn’t. His feet remained planted on the carpeted floor, his body moving of its own accord, hands reaching out to cup your jaw in his hand, soft skin against a rough calloused palm. 

“There’s just about a thousand reasons why I should walk away,” Dean spoke, his voice soft and trembling as he held your face in his hand. “But I… sweetheart, I don’t think I could, even if I tried.” 

You heaved a shaking breath, relief flooding the fissure in your chest like a temporary balm. Your eyes fluttered closed, a soft smile splitting your lips as you tilted your head up towards Dean. Daringly, you allowed yourself to lean into his palm, finding that his warm solid skin brought you a great deal of comfort. Reaching up, you let your hand cover his on your palm, trapping it against your skin for a moment. 

It was late, somewhere around 3 in the morning, and you knew he would have to go sooner or later. But at least now you had the slight assurance that, sometime soon, he would come back. It would hurt, but you would gladly take it over never seeing him again. 

Dean’s chest tightened at your small gestures, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously as he stared at you. He knew that this wouldn’t last. That sooner or later things would have to come to an end. But still, part of him refused to let go. To just give up on one of the few solid, steady things in his life — one of the few things he could leave behind and know it would still be there when he came back — despite the risk it put you in. 

When you opened your eyes again, gaze soft and pliant under Dean’s, you could tell you were thinking the same thing he was. One day, this would end. One of you would decide that it was just too much, or maybe you’d find people who were better suited for you, and you’d probably never see him again after that. For now, though, in some small way, Dean was yours and you were his, and the unfortunate truth was that you were in love with a man who was too kindhearted to drag you any further into his life than a borrowed bed every once in a while. 

Despite it all, though, you would take whatever he was willing to give. With open arms and a forgiving smile, you would take however much of Dean Winchester you could get. 

Dean knew he was making all the wrong moves by keeping you around. Hell, he should probably be running for the hills right now, getting as far away from you, from this town, as fast as he possibly could. But seeing you staring up at him, warm and soft and pure in his hands, he could feel his resolve continuing to crumble. 

So, instead of breaking away and leaving you behind like his mind was yelling at him to, Dean stayed for just a little longer, his thumb brushing soft strokes along your cheekbone. His eyes raked over your face, gaze soft and grateful and all kinds of things swirling in his chest that he couldn’t put a name to. 

Love, A small voice within him called out, a soft echo from deep down inside his battered, guarded soul. You are in love. 

Dean could’ve sworn his heart stopped. 

After an internal battle, and a few more long moments simply staying by your side, Dean let his hand fall from your cheek as he forced his gaze to move to the analog clock on the motel nightstand, blinking a slow, 3:27am back at him. 

“I have to go,” he murmured, a soft sigh falling from his lips as he took a small step away from the bed.

Slowly, you nodded, voice just as small as you spoke. “Okay.” 

Dean watched you stand from the bed, the shirt you wore covering your thighs as you stood in front of him, chests practically touching. He wondered if you knew how badly he was tempted to keep you in that bed all night. 

He knew he should move. He should step back and turn around and walk right out that door like he was so used to doing, but he couldn’t. Part of him would remain with you until he came back again, and he didn’t want to let that go. So, he cupped your cheek again, pulling you a little closer, his temptations slowly taking over. Telling him to give in and throw you right back onto that bed, to hold you, touch you, feel you until the sun came up. 

“Dean…” you murmured, gaze softening sadly but making no real effort to push him away. “You should… you have to go.” 

He knew you were right. His logical mind knew you were right. But his heart and his soul were already weeping with the distance, and he hadn’t even left yet. If he didn’t leave now, he’d never be able to. 

So, he nodded once and reluctantly let you go, stepping back and licking his lips. “I’ll, uh… see you soon, okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, forcing your face not to show any negative emotions as you watched him slowly step further back. The only indicator that you were feeling anything at all was the immense oceans worth in your eyes, a raging storm brewing in your irises as you watched Dean continue backward until he was almost at the door. 

“Goodbye, Dean,” you said softly, a small smile splitting your lips, hoping it looked happier than you felt. 

Dean nodded again, silent as he watched you put on a brave face. He wondered, now, how many times before had you worn that same face, that very same fake smile, as he left and he didn’t notice. God, he felt like an idiot for not noticing. 

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” Dean replied quietly, sporting his own small, slightly saddened smile as he turned his back, reaching for the doorknob and twisting it open. He paused for a moment in the threshold, daring one last glance back at you, trying to burn your image into his mind to hold onto forever. 

You did the same, your eyes sloping intently over the curves of his side profile, the glint of moonlight in his pale green eyes, the soft spikes of his short hair, the silhouette of his jacket hanging over his frame, down to the slight bow of his legs in long-worn jeans. You soaked the image of him into your mind, always to look back on and never to forget about. 

Saying goodbye always hurt to some degree, but never had it been as dragged out as this one, and never had it come with conversations like that one you’d just had with Dean. A small part of it all had felt very… final. Almost as though, despite what you had both just agreed upon, you would never be in a room like this with Dean ever again. Like you would never feel his skin against yours again, never feel his lips on your neck, never feel him fill you and mold you to him and transform you entirely ever again. 

And you hated it, more than anything. 

Then, with sagging shoulders, Dean nodded once more and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Everything in him screamed to turn around, his instinct to go back to be with you gnawing at his gut with every step he took further away from the door and closer to the Impala. And he almost did. 

But his mind flashed with that sad smile you gave him, and he couldn’t stop as it morphed into pain, and his mind conjured up gruesome images that would haunt him forever if they came true. And the only way to stop that was to keep you at a distance. 

As painful as it was for Dean to leave, staying would only hurt you more in the long run. 

Still, if he could see the way you stood in that motel room, alone and shivering from the sudden wash of cold that came over you, staring at the door like it would bring him marching back to you, he wouldn’t hesitate to scoop you up and keep you at his side forever. 

But he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t see that hollow look in your eyes, the way you flinched slightly as you heard the rumble of the Impala spark up and slowly fade away with the distance it put between you and him, how it felt as though your heart was cleaved in two, an open wound in the very center of your chest, spilling agony from that familiar, Dean-shaped fissure in your soul and pouring out everywhere like it was blood from a wound. 

He didn’t see the way you tried to contain it, to pull yourself together and gather your own clothes, silent in your movements as you mentally reassured yourself that you would see Dean again soon. You would see him again. 

You had to see him again. 

Every day that passed after that first month marking the last time you saw Dean, you practically prayed that he wouldn’t be a coward. That he would come back at some point, even if it was just for his usual night of casual sex. It made you feel just a little pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. Dean Winchester was a drug, and you were addicted. You had gotten that first hit so long ago, and you’d do anything to have more of it. More of him. 

But that first month passed, and then the second, and then half of the third. It was the longest you’d gone without hearing from him, and you had started moving on. You hung out with your friends more and buried yourself in work and the occasional guy from a bar, but you never found it within yourself to take it further than a one night stand. Maybe you were just as bad as Dean was, but you didn’t dare let that thought linger for too long. 

You had given up on thinking you’d see him again anytime soon when the text came through, interrupting your half drank vodka cranberry and a story one of your friends was telling for what must’ve been the thousandth time. 

‘Glen Pines motel. Room 119’ It had read, short and succinct and catching you off guard, as his texts usually did when you received them. 

Still, it had heat pooling low in your belly and muttering a half-assed excuse to your friends, tossing enough cash on the table to cover your portion of the tab before you were slipping out of your chair and heading for the exit.

When you got there, Dean was, as always, waiting to answer the door, pulling you inside and shutting it immediately. He seemed almost crazed as he shut the door behind you, his green eyes wild as he took you in — dressed casually, but still a little nicer than he typically saw, some kind of gloss coating your lips and your eyelashes carefully painted with mascara. 

Relief seemed to course through you both, as though even being near one another was enough to feel like the first hit of whatever euphoric drug flowed through your veins. The mere sight of Dean cleared your mind and relaxed your body, and it seemed to do the same for him. 

You dropped your purse on the ground beside the door, stepping closer and pressing your chest against Dean’s, body aching for more as you kept your gaze firmly on his. 

Everything else seemed to disappear when you stepped closer, Dean’s hands flying to your waist, torsos flush and barely leaving any room to breathe. No longer could you feel the heartache, only Dean’s hands sliding from your waist to grip your ass, the twitch of his jaw as your hands slid upward to cup his face, and the crush of his lips on yours. 

The kiss was heated and desperate, as it usually was when you first got your hands on each other. An angry clash of teeth and tongue and spit, a fight to tangle yourselves together as fast as you could. 

Your hands slid down, gripping tightly to the back of Dean’s neck as he squeezed your ass twice and pulled you closer to him, his telltale signal. With practiced ease, you wasted no time breaking the kiss and jumping into his arms. He caught you easily as your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips pressing to your neck, hands holding the backs of your thighs in a vice-like grip. 

To Dean, this was his own personal slice of heaven. After not seeing you for months, not touching you or tasting you or feeling you, he was practically on cloud nine just having you in his sight. He promised himself after last time that he wouldn’t come back. That he’d spare you of the pain being around him seemed to cause, even if it was just because you cared about him and didn’t want to see him go. But the way you had pleaded with him, the thought of holding you in his arms and finding familiar, bursting pleasure within you… he couldn’t stop himself. 

And now here he was, nearly three months later, just like clockwork, laying you down on that cheap motel mattress, a growl rumbling low in his throat as his lips sucked marks into your neck and his hands slid up your waist, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt and tugging it up over your head with little effort. 

Your legs tightened around his torso, easily pulling him closer to you, seeking his heat, his warmth — seeking the fire that only he seemed to carry, the only one that burned hot enough to satisfy you. 

Dean pressed his hips into yours, pulling a soft sound from your lips that had him smirking against your skin, his calloused fingers digging into your waist, kneading flesh and rippling goosebumps across the plains of your skin. 

The need within you burned hotter as his hands roamed your torso, grabbing and tracing and feeling every inch of you like a man starved, his lips drifting across your chest, leaving open mouthed kisses and trailing fire in their wake, your back arching and hips rolling in a natural, instinctive response. Just his touch was enough to have your pussy dripping, panties practically soaked as your need for him grew. It was like you were trapped in the desert, dying of thirst, and he was the only glass of water left in the world. You needed to have him. However you could.

You gasped as he rocked his hips, grinding against your clothed cunt as his breath turned ragged on your skin, fingers tracing along the underwire of your bra. When Dean paused his movements, you sat up a little, unclasped your bra, and tossed it aside. You’d learned fairly quickly that when it came to these exchanges, Dean enjoyed the foreplay but didn’t quite like the lead up to it. He wanted you both naked as quickly as possible, if he could have things his way.

A low growl rumbled in Dean’s throat as his eyes latched onto your bare chest, a gentle hand on your shoulder contrasting the animalistic look in his eye as he pushed you back down onto the bed. He slid his palm down to cup your breast in his hand, kneading the soft flesh as his mouth peppered kisses and small bites on the other. 

His free hand roamed down your side, reaching for the button of your tight jeans, popping it open easily and working the zipper free. Dean’s hand fell away from your breast, his mouth still moving expertly against your skin, both hands hooking into the waistband to tug the rest of your clothes off with very little effort. 

Dean pulled back to look at you, sprawled out across the bed with your calves dangling from the edge of the mattress, marked up by his mouth and panting, eyeing him with those lust-blown irises that could put him to his knees in an instant. He was quick with undressing himself, undoing his belt with practiced ease and shedding all of his layers in mere seconds. Before you knew it, he was crawling up the bed to meet your eye, elbows braced on either side of your head as he took a moment to admire you. Not your body, not the way he had marked it, but you. 

You giggled softly under his gaze, unable to fight the heat crawling up your cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing,” Dean said, trying to sound casual as he shook his head and moved his forearm to brush a piece of hair from your forehead. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. He was rarely ever this soft with you. Hell, he rarely ever took this much time to bury himself inside you. 

“I’m sure,” he replied, his eyes staring right into yours. He dipped down to press a soft, sweet kiss to your lips, tongue prodding softly at your lips as he shifted his weight to his knees. You granted him access, letting him taste you as his hands fell to your thighs, tracing the skin before travelling down and guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. 

The weight of his cock resting against your slick folds was driving you crazy. It seemed to do the same thing for Dean as he rocked his hips once, twice through your folds before he pulled back, breaking the kiss and admiring you as he guided his head to your entrance, watching your jaw fall open and your eyes squeeze shut as he pushed forward with a groan, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. 

When you managed to open your eyes, Dean bottomed out inside you, still and waiting for your okay, you felt the breath leave your lungs. In the low light of the motel room — the moonlight and the lamp on the bedside casting a soft glow across his skin — Dean looked more like a Greek god than a human. The shadows and golden light stretched across his torso, accentuating the toned muscles and golden skin, sharpening the features of his face, speckling across the flecks of shimmering gold in his lust-blown green eyes.

You dug your heels into his back as your walls clenched around him, eliciting the softest of groans from his soft lips. When you nodded, hooking your arms under his to find purchase against the supple skin of his shoulder blades, Dean began to move. Slow at first, deliberate thrusts to make sure you were adjusting properly. His head fell forward, buried in the crook of your neck as one of his hands gripped your thigh, his other forearm braced above you on the bed, fingers tangling lightly in your hair. 

When he started to hear those soft, needy moans falling from your lips, his pace quickened ever so slightly, his thrusts deep and hard. He responded to every signal you gave, conscious or not. Every clench of your walls around him, every shaking sound that spilled from your mouth, every beat of your heart in your chest as he consumed you, and you him. 

“Fuck, baby, feels so good,” you gasped softly, blissed out and close to entirely unaware of yourself as Dean thrusted into you, filling you so effortlessly. As he stretched you better than any other man could. 

Dean, however, was a little more tuned into the task at hand. He heard you call him baby, practically whispering it right into his ear with the position you were in. It had his chest tightening, the feeling uncomfortable despite how fucking amazing you felt around him. And he was sure that if he weren’t so lost in you, he would have paused. He would have asked what you meant by using that name on him. But he was lost in you. So he kept going, never faltering as the sound of skin meeting mingled with your panting moans, filling the room and his ears, drowning out the sound of you calling him baby. 

He panted into your skin, moving a little faster as your nails dug into his back, the pleasurable sting spurring him on until he was practically slamming into you. Your moans reached a fever pitch, body wrought and arching beneath Dean as the pleasure overwhelmed you, claimed you, set you on fucking fire. 

“Dean, fuck, I’m close,” you moaned, your head tipping back, legs already beginning to shake. He responded to every single signal your body gave, his hand on your thigh feeling the tremble beneath the skin as he gripped it tight. With a shaking breath, Dean leaned forward to lay a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck. 

“Feel so good,” he murmured into your skin, his voice strained as his hand drifted up your thigh, ghosting over your hip and trailing to the spot where your bodies joined, hovering over your clit. “Such a good girl, sweetheart. Gonna come for me?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice tight and stuck in your throat as he brushed his calloused finger against your clit, circling slowly, applying pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your fingers dug softly into his back, whining softly in his ear as he brought you closer to the euphoric precipice, seeking to toss you over into the crashing waves.

Dean groaned into your skin as your legs began to shake and twitch around his waist, his cock throbbing as he tried to keep his even pace. He was struggling now, urging you to come before he could even think about release. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he panted, his voice a low groan.

“Fuck, right there, Dean—” your voice was strangled, quiet and pleading as you spoke. The pleasure was unbearable, now, and with a soft, shaking moan, you were trembling around Dean as you came. It was unbearably intense, as it always seemed to be when you had sex with Dean. Your walls wept, clenching around him as your eyes squeezed shut and your fingers dug a little deeper into his shoulder blades. 

Dean always knew how to give you the pleasure you needed. The mind-wiping release, his body pressed to yours, singing high praises with soft touches and quiet sounds… he was the only one that could even come close to it. 

He came just before your walls grew too sensitive to his thrusts, pulling out and shooting hot ropes of cum over your lower stomach. His orgasm was just as intense, it seemed, as his body shuddered and shook beneath your hands, soft grunts falling from his lips as he panted into the crook of your neck. 

He pressed his chest to yours, panting heavily and trying to catch his breath. You were still out of it, still recovering from the mind-numbing experience. So much so that you began to speak without thinking. Reaching up, you brushed a hand through Dean’s hair, your other hand still gripping his shoulder blade. 

“So good f’me, Dean,” you murmured, your words soft and slurred as your mind recovered from being turned into mush. “So good, Dean. I love you so much,” 

It seemed that the bliss of Dean’s orgasm had done something similar to his mind, as he took a second to fully register what you had said to him. He tensed at the sound of your praises, the distinct declaration falling from your loose lips. Cold panic flooded his veins, the fear that he only ever felt when someone was in danger rushing over him and making him pull back. Pull out of your hold, where he only ever felt safe. 

When he was pulling away, coming to stand up, you followed. 

Clarity came to you the moment Dean tensed beneath your fingers, guilt sinking like a boulder in your gut. Sitting up on the bed, you ignored everything else and focused on Dean. That familiar deep cut fissure revealed itself again as you watched him get to his feet. 

“Dean, I’m sorry,” you apologised, voice shaking slightly. “I didn’t— I wasn’t thinking and I just—” 

“Don’t,” Dean finally spoke, his voice gruff and laced with something you couldn’t pinpoint. “Stop apologizing.” 

He began to gather his clothes, movements harsh and guarded as he tugged his pants back over his legs, then his shirt. Meekly, you ducked from his sight and followed, pulling your clothes back on with haste, the sting of embarrassment and rejection clawing at your brain, tearing it to shreds. 

Dean finished dressing first, but he didn’t leave immediately like you thought he would. Instead, he watched you gather your things, his gaze burning your skin as you shrunk away from it. You didn’t dare look at him as you clutched your purse close to your chest. 

You kept your back to him, shoulders tense and fat tears hanging from your lashes. Barely turning, you looked over your shoulder but kept your gaze on the ground as you spoke. “I should… I should go, Dean.” 

“Sweetheart…” the pain in your words alone was enough to make him regret the way he was treating you. He knew he was being selfish, damnit, but he didn’t want to hurt you like this. 

“No, Dean, you… you’re right. Maybe we should stop.” You said, the words stabbing like daggers at your heart even as you spoke them. It was painful to admit, but maybe you had gotten too deep into what was never supposed to be anything but sex. 

Dean didn’t speak. He didn’t even know what to say. How to convince you that he wasn’t upset, that he understood, that he wanted you to stay. All he knew was that he was being selfish. That he finally understood why you always wanted him to stay the night afterwards instead of just vanishing in the night. 

You finally turned to look at him, heartbreak written all over your face even as you smiled. Dean wanted nothing more than to cross the distance between you and scoop you up into his arms and take away your hurt. But he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, so he stayed put. 

“Goodbye, Dean.” You whispered, voice thick. And with that, you were just… gone. Slipping out the door and into a cab, you allowed the tears to fall as the cab peeled out of the parking lot. 

Dean was left alone in the oppressive silence of the shitty motel room, his heart feeling like it would break in two if he made even the slightest of moves. He knew he should be leaving, heading back to the bunker before the sun started to rise, even if that was hours away. But he just couldn’t bring himself to take another step when he was still processing the loss of one of the only good things in his life. 

You allowed yourself to cry in the backseat of the cab for a little while. The drive back to your apartment usually only took about ten minutes, and for that time, you didn’t even realise something was wrong. You were too caught up in your sorrow, lost in your tears and your pity party of one to notice that the cab driver was heading out of town, instead of further toward the center. 

“Hey, where are you going?” You finally asked, voice timid and polite as you wiped your cheeks. “Cook street is that way—” your voice died in your throat as you jabbed a thumb over your shoulder, cold dread washing down your spine. 

In the rearview mirror, your eyes met the cab drivers. But where his irises should have been, there was pure black. 

“You shouldn’t get into a cab that you didn’t call, doll.” The cab driver sneered, his maniacal smile telling you that he enjoyed how scared you looked. “You never know who’s behind the wheel.” 

A scream built and died in your throat as he smirked, pressing the pedal to the floor and revving the engine. The car jerked and you fell back into the bench as he floored it, heading onto the highway.

Dean made it back to the bunker just before sunrise. He hated how empty he felt when he pulled the Impala into the garage and made his way back to his room, making sure he didn’t startle Sam awake as he thumped his way down the hall. 

He hated just about everything, really. The way his whole worldview seemed to have been altered, tilted a little to the left and dizzyingly off-balance. It was as though your presence in his life, however fleeting, kept Dean stable. He felt nauseous, like he was constantly motion sick. Collapsing on his bed, not bothering to change his clothes or even pull off his boots, didn’t seem to help, either. The impact sent a rush of air upward, and the faint scent of your perfume stuck on his skin rushed Dean’s senses, forcing another rumble of heartache through his chest.  

Days passed like this, and Dean felt horrible for it. He was supposed to be helping Sam figure out how to locate a particularly annoying, up-and-coming demon that even Crowley had lost his handle on. One of those pesky Lucifer loyalists that didn’t seem to want to give up on the idea of freeing him from the cage. Again. 

Instead, he was sitting around, trying to find the motivation to get off his ass and do something about their current problem. Sam had clearly seen that something was off, but Dean had kept Y/n and that part of his life secret from his brother. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but once it started, Dean didn’t have the heart to tell Sam why he would go off in the night once every few months. Hell, he didn’t have the heart to tell Sam that he was even going anywhere. 

Four days in, Dean managed to plant himself in the chair across from Sam in the library and use his own laptop to help Sam do some research to find a way to stop the demon from getting his hands on an artefact that would help him spring Lucifer. He’d been there for hours, retinas burning from staring at his computer screen for so long, the words blurring and shifting, when his phone rang. He let it ring the first time, since the number was unknown and nobody who wasn’t important really knew the number on that phone, anyway. But then it rang again, and then one more time, and Sam was giving him a look that said, ‘are you gonna answer that?’ so, he did. 

And he regretted it the moment he put the phone to his ear. 

“Dean!” A male voice cheered, his voice laced with fake appreciation. “So nice of you to finally pick up the phone.” 

“Who is this?” Dean asked, his voice dropping an octave and rumbling defensively in his throat. “How’d you get this number?”

“A little bird gave it to me,” the man sighed. “You know, I don’t know why you just let her leave like that, Dean. She seems like quite the… active participant.” 

Dean’s heart clenched, lodging in his throat. He knew who the person on the other line was talking about, and about a thousand emotions swirled within him before he landed on his usual reaction — anger. He glanced at Sam, who looked at him curiously, before responding. “Who is this?” He repeated, his voice angrier and rougher. 

“I believe you’ve been looking for me,” the man replied casually. “Well, I found you first, Dean. And I found your little plaything, too. Man, I’ve gotta say, Dean, I see why you picked her. She’s quite the looker.” Dean’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t respond. The man continued. “Look, I’ve had a fun few days with her, but I’m getting bored. I thought she’d be more… useful than she turned out to be. So, I want to make you a deal.” 

“I don’t make deals with douchebag demons.” Dean growled into the phone, and the man chuckled. 

“You do if you want to keep Y/n alive.” The demon said, and Dean felt his entire body freeze, his muscles locking up. “Exactly. So, here’s what’s going to happen. I know you have the artefact I need in that bunker of yours. You give it to me directly, and I’ll hand her over in one piece. You can go back to doing… whatever it is you do to her, and I’ll raise Lucifer properly, like the dedicated son I am.” 

When Dean still didn’t respond, the demon sighed. There was shuffling on the other line, and the heavy creak of a door opening. Then— 

“Dean,” your voice cut through the line, sounding broken, tired, and thick. He could tell you were hurt, just by the wavering sound of your voice. “Dean, don’t do it, whatever they asked, I’m okay, I swear—” 

“See, Dean? Now you know I mean business.” The demon spoke, his voice oddly perky and professional. 

“You’re gonna burn in hell for hurting her.” Dean growled, but the demon only chuckled in response. 

“Been there, done that. You have 24 hours, or I slit her throat and bleed her like a stuck pig.” The demon responded, followed immediately by the click of the other line. 

Dean’s phone pinged with coordinates from the same unknown number moments later, and the growl that tore through his throat was practically animalistic. Rage built quickly within him, and he was half-tempted to throw his phone across the library and shatter it completely. But he needed those coordinates. He needed to get you out of there, get you back to safety. 

“Dean, what the hell was that?” Sam asked, pulling Dean out of his rage and back to reality. His gaze, suddenly defeated, met his younger brothers. When he spoke, his voice was rough and already sounding defeated. 

It was time to come clean to his brother. 

“They… the demon we’ve been looking for. He’s got Y/n.”

“Y/n?” Sam asked, the name not ringing any immediate bells for a moment before it clicked. “You mean Y/n from that poltergeist hunt in Topeka? That Y/n?” Dean nodded. “What does she have to—” Sam cut himself short at the realisation, at the hurt on his brother’s face. “We’ll get her back, Dean,” 

Dean shook his head, already feeling defeated. Of course, they had to have taken her. Of course, his involvement in her life ended up putting her in danger. “He wants the artefact in exchange for her. If we don’t give it up… he’s gonna kill her, Sammy.” 

You’d been tied up for days. It was the longest few days of your life, and you weren’t quite sure exactly how much time had passed, but you felt like hell. The only indication that time had passed was when someone came in to force feed you some sort of slop-like food, a glass of water, and leave again. Whoever had taken you hadn’t shown their face again, but a guy dressed in a sharply pressed suit with perfectly styled blond hair — a perfect vision of corporate Ken, if you had any opinions on his style — visited you far too often. 

Sometimes he would taunt you, pacing across your vision with his hands behind his back, spouting nonsense to you with what you supposed he believed was a charming smirk. He’d bramble on and on about some ancient thing, about his perfect plan, how some guy named Crowley was going to ‘regret ever trying to squash me like a cockroach under his heel.’ So far, you thought this Crowley person was entirely justified in that attempt. This guy was fucking annoying.

Other times, though, he would take his frustrations out on you in the form of what he called a good, old-fashioned beat-down. It was always painful, left you in tears and spitting blood and saliva from your busted up lips, but you always swallowed it down. You might not have been a hunter like Dean was, but you knew enough about his life to take a hit or two and keep your mouth shut. 

You didn’t understand why this guy had even chosen you to take over Sam. Despite what you wanted to believe, what you hoped, your relationship with Dean was transactional, at best. But you also knew, logically speaking, that the second this guy knew that you weren’t worth what he was asking from Dean, that he wouldn’t just let you go. Opening your mouth meant signing your own death certificate, so you shut the hell up and let him rough you up to feel powerful, and hoped Dean cared just enough to actually come up with a game plan to save your ass. 

The Impala rumbled imposingly through the streets of some backwater town in Iowa. The population count in this place — Dean didn’t bother trying to remember the name of the town, he had more important things to focus on — couldn’t have been more than a couple hundred, at most. Half the buildings were squat and falling apart, and the houses seemed to look even worse. 

Dean wasn’t focused on the scenery, though. Sam was using the map on his phone to navigate his older brother and the sleek black car down the roads, hoping to reach the other side of town to the address the demon had given them before their time ran out. The brothers had tried to work with what little time they had to formulate a proper plan, but they came up with their usual order of business — violence. 

They had hoped to have enough time to get some sort of decoy of the artefact, but that took time that they didn’t have. It was a flimsy plan, anyway, so Dean had resorted to what he knew best — hand the damn thing over, make sure the civilian in danger was safe, and then start stabbing. Sam had Ruby’s blade, and Dean had one of the many angel blades he and his brother had gotten ahold of over the past few years. Tried and true, violence was Dean’s preferred answer to his supernatural problems. 

He remained stoic and silent on the drive over — they’d taken off sometime in the night, and the early morning sun cast an innocent glow over the world. There was dew on every blade of grass, the air smelled fresh with the promise of life. Dean knew better than to believe that. He was a man that was about to walk into a warzone and pray that the enemy wouldn’t be the one to make it out alive. He was a desperate man that was about to kill what could very well be a small army’s worth of demons for one woman. In Dean’s eyes, though, she was worth it. 

Sam didn’t try prodding at his older brother for answers. He already knew he wouldn’t get any when Dean was like this. He knew, as he typically did, that Dean was blaming himself entirely for another person he cared about being put in danger and hurt by a demon. One too many times had he and Sam lost someone to the evils that they dedicated their lives to trying to take out. Whether due to unfortunate circumstances — or, in this case — someone twisting their arms just enough to take a defeat over a death, Sam and Dean had faced too many near-deaths and far too many losses.

Dean cut the engine a little further away from the location they were given to avoid getting caught out. Sam and Dean didn’t exchange any words, just a singular, determined look before the doors to the Impala creaked open and slammed closed. 

Sam carried the artefact under his arm — a chunky wooden box with sigils burned into it. Inside, wrapped in an old, slightly musty smelling flap of animal hide, was an utterly ancient piece of metal. It was warped and twisted beyond belief, similar to the twisted iron of outdoor railings in nice suburban neighborhoods. It was jagged on one end, like it had been melted off of another, larger piece. Through the rust, Sam had seen markings etched into it. He didn’t know what exactly it did, or why this demon truly needed it, and that irritated him. He was willingly giving up a potentially powerful, entirely unknown artefact to a demon. Sure, he and Dean would get it back by whichever means were necessary, but it still bothered him. Just a little. 

A woman greeted them at the door of a rundown, clearly abandoned house with a sinful smile, dressed like every corporate American office receptionist. She made a comment to Dean and then her eyes caught the box under Sam’s arm — her eyes widened slightly, almost imperceptibly, before her smirk turned even more sinister and she led the brothers inside. 

She brought them into the basement, which looked miles bigger — and cleaner, though still damp-smelling — than the rest of the house. Every demon trying to resurrect Lucifer needed a base of operations, Dean supposed. He counted at least seven demons in the basement, but there was a hallway across the room and off to the left — he had no idea how many rooms were down there, nor if there were any more demons in there or not. He felt a little trapped, but you were down here with them, somewhere. 

“Sam! Dean!” A voice called. From the hallway, a man around Dean’s height emerged. A quaff of perfect blond hair, a bright, cunning smile stretching his lips. He clapped once, eyes flashing black before back to perfect blue. “So nice of you to join us. And,” he checked his watch, “with just an hour to spare. I’m glad you showed, really. That girl of yours seems like she’d put up a fight if I did try to kill her, and I don’t enjoy getting my hands dirty.” 

“Alright, Corporate Ken, enough with the small talk,” Dean ground out, anger and frustration and annoyance swelling in his chest. He glanced at Sam, understanding passing between them, then nodded toward the box and then toward the demon.  

For the first time in what must’ve been days, you had more than five minutes to yourself. Nobody was watching over you like you were a prison inmate, and that dickhead had stopped ranting to you between punches. He had been stopped by a female, one of the few here, who whispered something to him and then handed him a rag. He smirked and wiped his hands of your blood, not saying another word as he stepped out of the room and left you alone. 

You were trying to strain your ears to hear something, anything — but the walls were too thick, and your head was still swimming. It was hard to keep your wits about you when you could barely breathe, let alone think beyond the throbbing in your skull. After the first day, the demon had at least avoided injuring your face too much. He stuck mostly to your torso, and while the whole ordeal was insane and traumatizing, you were at least grateful that you could still breathe, see, and speak. Even if taking a full breath sent sharp pain stinging across your ribcage, and your vision was often blurred with tears, and your voice was always choked with pain.

Then, a cacophony of rapid, muffled sounds reached your ears. It sounded like a nasty kind of fight, with screams and thuds and things breaking. Oddly enough, it made you feel relieved. It meant, hopefully, that Dean had come for you. That you were getting out of this damp, dingy basement. Out of this chair and these clothes, and to safety. 

You held your breath when the fighting stopped all at once, then the haunting echo of footsteps coming closer. You wanted to hope that it was Dean, but these demons seemed nastier than anything you’ve ever come across. Not that you’d ever come across a demon or had anything but the vengeful spirit that used to haunt your apartment to compare them to, but you liked to think that the point still stood. 

The door creaked open, your slightly hazy gaze locking on the gap as it got bigger and bigger. Dean stepped inside, and it was like neither of you could breathe. It hurt for you to take a full breath, anyway, but the utter relief upon seeing him had been enough to pause your entire nervous system for a moment or two. 

Dean, however, felt like he was dying inside. You were alive. And for anybody else,  it might’ve been enough. But the blood and bruises and overall tousled and tired look about you felt like an arrow to the heart. He was the reason you were hurt. He was the reason why you’d been kidnapped, taken and beaten for what he could only assume was fun for that prick he just killed. The demons must’ve known you didn’t know anything, and had rightfully decided to use you as a damn bargaining chip. 

This was Dean’s fault. You wouldn’t have been at that motel room if he’d had enough strength to stay away like he had planned to. You’d have been just fine, moving on with your life and living like a normal person, just like he wanted you to. Every single worry he had about you getting hurt because of him had been justified in that moment as he stared at you, broken and bloody. Dean Winchester believed that he was nothing more than bad luck. 

But then a broken sound clawed its way out of your throat, and Dean was rushing forward, untying the bounds holding your arms behind the chair. He couldn’t stand to see you so hurt, even if it was his fault. He was quick to cut through the ties on your ankles, freeing you in record time. 

Then, as carefully as he could manage despite his overwhelming need to be closer to you, Dean was hauling you up by your biceps, pulling you right into his arms and pinning you to his chest. One of his hands cradled the back of your head to his shoulder, the other splayed between your shoulder blades. And you melted right into him, falling into his warmth like you belonged there. Because you did. You were made for Dean Winchester, it seemed. Despite how deeply he tried to deny it. Down to the very atom, the way you folded into him and slumped against his chest… yeah. You were made for him. He was sure of it.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Dean murmured, his face buried in your hair. He didn’t care that it was greasy and dirty. That you were covered in blood, sweat, grime, and whatever else. He needed to feel you close to him. To know that he wasn’t dreaming and he had somehow managed to get you killed, too.  

“Why did you do that, Dean?” You asked, still pressed against him. You didn’t make any moves to pull away, and Dean took that as a good sign. “That was so stupid, you know that?”

With an extreme amount of reluctance, Dean loosened his hold on you slightly. He slid his head around to cup your bruised cheek, careful to avoid a small cut on your cheekbone, his green eyes shining something beautiful and emotional under the single bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling. He regarded you deeply, his breath stuttering in his chest as his thumb swept over your cheekbone, tracing the line of the deep bruise surrounding the cut. 

“Because it was you.” He answered, his deep voice rattling your heart in your ribcage. His words, raw with honesty and emotion, cut you deeply. “Because I’d do anything to keep you safe, sweetheart. Anything.” 

Your bottom lip, split open with a small cut by the corner, trembled as you stared up at Dean. His hand moved, and his thumb traced the plump curve of it. His breath shook in his chest, just like yours did, and you watched the preparation building next to the honesty and the deep, unwavering emotion in his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I wanted to keep you safe, and I still managed to hurt you,” he exhaled, the sound shaking as he took you in, hurt swimming in his gaze. “I don’t want to push you away anymore. Not if it means you’re going to get hurt, anyway.” He swallowed, his lips parting, before he forced the next words out of his mouth. “I love you. And I don’t know what the hell I would do if I lost you.” 

Your breath hitched. You had never imagined you’d ever hear Dean confess something like that. Then again, in all the times you had imagined where whatever relationship you had would go, you had always imagined it coming to an end. You never thought it would turn into something new. Something better. 

“I love you, too,” you confessed, eyes flooding with happy tears. Your lips split into a bright smile despite how it pulled at the cut on your lip and agitated the bruises on your face, but you just couldn’t contain it. 

Dean smiled, too, a soft, relieved laugh falling from his lips as he pulled you back into his chest, tucking his chin atop your head. 

You felt the fissure in your heart slowly begin pulling back together, and you knew it wouldn’t heal fully with just a few sentences. But the important thing was that it was beginning to close, and Dean was beginning to open up. And that was really all you had ever wanted.

=======

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

dean winchester taglist: @johnmurphyisqueer @thanossexual @dryyoursaltyoceantears @killerqueenfan @cadencebeat2662 @jamespotterslover @mariecoded @aunicornmademedoit @bloodyxheaven @mrspeacem1nusone @jessimay89 @supernaturallydc @navs-bhat @xoxabs88xox @unic0rntaking0ver17645 @adhdhufflepuff @erospecies @imabee-oralizard @ellablossom @ajordan2020 @lunepoesie @multitasking44 @alexxavicry @avabh12 @dravinor

my taglists are open!

[cobaltperun]

i have a request if possible ? for a tara carpenter x reader , or any jo character as you see fit , but in my head , it’s always been tara and no gf au-

so basically , if you’re familiar with 5 seconds of summer , every time i listen to them (their self titled album, specifically heartbreak girl) i always come up with like scenarios of r, mindy, amber and wes being 5sos basically and having r write that song about tara and how she’s always calling/texting r about the problems she’s having with chad without realizing that r is in love with her

which ofc leads r to go to amber, mindy and wes to write that song together and having them preform at a local bar/club or something because they’re locally known and tara, sam, chad and the rest of the friend group is in the crowd, being supportive- but once they hear the song , they immediately know who it’s about and just look at tara awkwardly , and- that’s as far as i’ve gotten

Heartbreak Girl

Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader (Request)

First of all, thank you for the request, it kind of just flowed out and here it is. I went with gender-neutral Reader since you didn't specify the gender. I hope you'll enjoy reading this.

Masterlist

Word count: 2.7k

"I know I should have seen it coming, but it still hurts, you know? I still love Chad, I just can't get over him," she sobbed, and you stopped pacing around your room to lean back and rest your head against the wall. You knew the story, you heard it from Tara countless times, and you may have heard it from Mindy even before Tara told you, mostly because Mindy got a bit pissed that Chad would end his relationship with Tara like that. Tara and Chad were in a relationship, they worked the summer job together and met Liv. Chad fell in love and broke up with Tara. The rest was history, and Tara, sharing Chad's circle of friends, and still being in love with him, couldn't move on.

One time Tara told you she figured it would be easier if he cheated on her. He didn't. He just sat down with her one day and said how he felt. Two weeks later Chad and Liv went on their first date and the circumstances kept Tara and Chad as somewhat friends.

"I'm sorry for being a bother, Y/N," she must have noticed your silence.

"You're not being a bother, Tara, I just don't know what to say that I already didn't tell you before," you bit your bottom lip, knowing full well you were lying. You knew what you wanted to say. You wanted to tell her you loved her, that in her heartbreak she kept breaking your heart too. Another sob made you speak before you could think things through. "Let's go out, just the two of us," you suggest, realizing too late what you were saying. "As friends, of course, just to get your mind off of everything," you quickly backtracked, hoping the explanation was sufficient enough, hoping she couldn't hear the nervous tapping of your foot against the floor, or the crack in your voice when you said 'friends' or anything else that could give you away.

Because, as much as you loved her, as much as you wanted to be with her, you didn't want to push her into another relationship when she was vulnerable and still heartbroken. You also didn't want to be her way of getting over Chad and nothing more. And you absolutely didn’t want to take advantage of her emotional turmoil.

"I'd love to, Y/N," it sounded like she stopped crying, thought she still sniffled a bit. "Thanks for being my friend and always being there to cheer me up," her words, even if you just encouraged them yourself, still hurt you.

"Don't mention it, I'm here for you," you brushed it off, subconsciously hoping maybe, just maybe, she'd realize how you feel on her own. You had no idea how mixed the signals you were sending her looked every now and then. In less than a minute you went from proclaiming friendly hanging out to promising to be there for her. "When do you want to meet up?"

Tara paused for a moment. "I'll call you tomorrow at ten to figure that out. Is that okay?"

You nodded and then frowned when you realized a moment later you were on the phone with her. "Of course."

And so you said your goodbyes, and you just slumped into the chair and dropped your head down to the table. A bit recklessly you tossed the phone to the bed on your side and silently expressed gratitude that it didn't hit the wall or drop to the floor. You sighed and placed your hands over your head, feeling like you were stuck in a never-ending cycle with Tara Carpenter.

Against your better judgment, you grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and began writing.

~X~

The friend date went well, better than you imagined it would and you and Tara hung out an hour longer than either of you anticipated. It was a nice change of pace and for a moment you actually convinced yourself you didn't feel anything romantic for her. For a moment, you were reminded of simpler times, when Tara really was just a friend in your eyes. That time was a long time ago, but sometimes you wished you could go back to that, at the very least everything was much simpler back then.

The paper waiting for you at your table broke that illusion and you grabbed your guitar, maybe you had something here after all. As you sat down to try different tunes you sent a message to the band, Mindy, Wes, and Amber, asking to meet up tomorrow for an additional practice.

~X~

The four of you met up in your garage where you kept your instruments, the guitars, and drums, anything else you needed you would just rent out for a couple of days. You were still a local band, so renting still saved you money.

"Let me see if I got everything right. You," Amber pointed at you, almost accusingly. "wrote this song about Tara and you don't want to confess how you feel?" she asked incredulously.

"Come on, it's not that obvious," you defended yourself and pointed at a line in the song. "See? Chad didn't exactly treat her bad, he just broke up with her."

"Yeah, sure, one line is going to convince everyone it isn't about Tara," Mindy added sarcastically and threw her arms up. "It's there for the dramatic effect, Y/N! Remember?" well, yeah, but still, were you really that obvious?

"She got you there," Wes wasn't helping.

You picked up your guitar and began playing the tune you thought would work well with the song. "Listen, I think we got something good here," you tried to focus on the song itself. "Regardless of who it was written for," you muttered.

"You're kidding, right? A sad tune? You're making this a ballad? No way," Mindy went to her drums. "This needs more energy," judging by the tone of her voice she wasn't budging on this. Well, at least she was on board.

"We are totally adding 'Thanks for being a friend' to the lyrics," Amber teased and you just groaned and buried your face in your hands.

"Don't forget being a sucker for anything Tara does," Wes joined in, causing all three of them to laugh at you.

"You're the worst," you muttered, too embarrassed to look at them. As it was the song that maybe could have passed as, you know, not absolutely obvious, might as well be named ‘Tara’ with how specific it was turning out to be.

~X~

Over the next month and a half, you and Tara fell into a bit of a habit. The first two weeks she continued sobbing, and you'd ask her to hang out. The week after that she just complained and you still asked her to hang out. The past few weeks she rarely even mentioned Chad during your calls, but she still insisted you were friends.

Honestly, just the fact that she seemed to be moving on as weeks went by mended your own heart. Somewhere along the line, you found out you were fine with the way things were. In a relationship or as friends, you wanted Tara in your life.

You walked her to her house, the backs of your hands occasionally brushing as you walked. The accidental touches became something both of you were comfortable with, as neither of you moved away from each other.

"You'll be performing tomorrow night, right?" Tara asked out of the blue.

You glanced at her and your eyes met. "Yeah. Are you going to come?" it wouldn't be the first time Tara would be in the crowd. Tara, Sam, Chad, Danny, Anika, and Liv were all supportive of your band, so they regularly came to your performances.

"You're not really asking that, are you? Of course, I'm going to come," she lightly jabbed your arm. "Besides, Mindy might have told me you guys have a new song you'll be performing for the first time in front of a crowd."

That little traitor. You cleared your throat to buy yourself a few extra seconds to get it together.

With the way things were going between you and Tara, you were almost tempted to scrap the song, but the other three voted against it. "No pressure then, it's not like we haven't had a new song in almost four months now," what could you say, it was a bit of a drought period as far as creativity went.

Tara laughed and just for a moment you thought you saw something else in her eyes, something similar to the way you would so often look at her. "You'll do great," she offered a much-needed encouragement as the two of you stopped in front of her house.

"Guess this is it for tonight," you smiled at her.

"Mhm, I'm glad I was the one to ask you out tonight, as friends, of course," she took a step closer and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. And then you froze when she got on her tiptoes and kissed your cheek. "Thank you, for always being there for me," somehow, this time she omitted the friend part.

"I," you cleared your throat once more. "did say I'd be here for you, didn't I?" you tried to brush it off as you usually did for months now.

The intensity of Tara's gaze captured all of your attention and for a moment you even considered leaning in. You didn't though, you weren't sure she felt the same, or that she actually moved on.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then?" she asked, lowering her gaze to your lips before quickly looking away.

You noticed it, and you wondered if Tara could hear how loud your heart was drumming in your chest. "Y-yeah," you finally stepped back from her, and the tension you were trying so hard to ignore began fading.

~X~

Tara pretty much threw herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. What was wrong with her? Falling in love with you so quickly and almost out of nowhere. Especially when you so explicitly insisted on hanging out as friends. Perhaps you were insisting too hard to cover your own feelings? A girl could hope, right?

She turned her playlist on, hoping to find some peace in music. As if to spite her, the first song that played was Brian Fallon's You Have Stolen My Heart and she nearly chucked her phone into a wall. Groaning she turned around and tucked herself into a blanket. It was entirely your fault. With your charming smile and clumsy mixed signals, she could never get a good read on them.

~X~

You were amazing on that improvised stage, just mesmerizing to watch and listen to and Tara found herself falling even harder. She also found herself ignoring Sam's teasing smile.

"Thank you, thank you! You are too kind! We'll wrap up the night with a premiere of our new song!" Wes yelled, hyping up the crowd.

"Let's hear an applause for Heartbreak Girl!" Mindy demanded, encouraging the crowd to interact with the four of you.

Tara was pulled to her feet by Anika and they both cheered. The name of the song, however, made Tara's heart skip a beat. Or was it the way you looked at her from the stage?

"You call me up, it's like a broken record, saying that your heart hurts. That you'll never get over him getting over you, and you end up crying. And I end up lying, 'cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do," you sang, your eyes never leaving Tara's. It felt like there was no one else in the club but the two of you. But you weren't alone, and Tara felt the awkward stares directed at the back of her head.

Did you actually write a song for her?

"And when the phone call finally ends, you say "Thanks for being a friend" and I'm going in circles again and again," now she had no doubt, that the song really was about her. She stopped cheering and just stood there, taking the lyrics in.

She saw you hesitating, probably since you noticed her reaction, and she just smiled. You smiled back and continued.

"I dedicate this song to you, the one who never sees the truth, that I can take away you hurt, Heartbreak girl. Hold you tight straight through the daylight, I'm right here, when you gonna realize that I'm your cure, Heartbreak girl?" did you...? Were you saying what she thought you were saying?

She wasn't reading this wrong, was she?

"I bite my tongue, but I wanna scream out, you could be with me now. But I end up telling you what you wanna hear, but you're not ready. And it's so frustrating, he treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair," her heart skips a beat as you continue, quoting the promise to call you tomorrow at ten and once again singing the chorus.

"I know someday it's gonna happen, and you'll finally forget the day you met him. Sometimes I'm so close to confession, I gotta get it through your head, that you belong with me instead," the look in your eyes, the eyes that told her 'This is it, I can't take it back now' it vanquished any doubt she may have had about how you felt.

She just wondered how long you felt that way about her without saying anything? Definitely before you first asked her to hang out as friends, but how long before that? And she felt like apologizing, for not noticing how you felt, for leaning on you for support even if it hurt you as well. And at the same time she fell even harder, because you were there for her even with everything you were feeling you were giving her all the time she needed.

~X~

The moment you ended the song and without any idea where the sudden boldness was coming from you jumped down from the stage and went over to Tara. You took a few deep breaths as you closed the distance and offered her your hand, the guitar still in your other hand.

Yeah, you didn't quite think that through.

Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly looking at the guitar, but then shrugged and took your hand.

"Uh, what now?" you asked sheepishly.

"Isn't that something you were supposed to figure out? Before you jumped down and came over?" she gave you a cheeky, teasing smile.

"I didn't think I'd get this far," you admitted, causing Tara to laugh.

"Just go behind the stage dumbass!" Mindy yelled, with the microphone still on. "And leave the guitar there while you're at it!"

You lowered your head and winced, trying to hide the embarrassment clearly visible on your face. Tara wasn't doing much better as she quickly pulled you behind the stage to escape the teasing.

You packed the guitar as both of you took time to compose yourself and catch a breath. "I really didn't think this through, did I?" you asked.

"No," Tara sat down on the chair near you. "You really didn't," she was fiddling with the loose thread on her shirt.

"I meant it, the song. Well, at least when I wrote it a month and a half ago," you decided to just be honest with her.

Tara raised her head to look at you, you could see hopefulness and uncertainty in her gaze. "What changed?"

You approached and sat down next to her. "I don't think you are still heartbroken," you took her hand.

Tara smiled. "I'm not. I'm in love with a clumsy musician that sucks at flirting," she leaned closer to you.

"Hey, it worked," you closed the distance, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. "Mhm, how about we go on a proper date then?" she asked when the kiss ended and you couldn't think of any better idea.

[moscnios]

Hi. If you're comfortable with writing this ( if not, please feel free to ignore, no pressure on you, I really really appreciate your hardwork & I love your writing thank you so much for all of this amazing fanfics you keep bringing!! 💗💗💗💗 ), may i request some angst where Zoro & gn!reader gets into a heated argument with each other which leads to reader wanting to break up with him?

★ WHAT ONCE WAS! roronoa zoro ★

── pairing. zoro x gn!reader.

── summary. change was something you feared. but it had happened before your very eyes as you watched your long-term boyfriend train to take on unknown dangers out on the sea. you can’t even recognize him anymore.

── cw(s). angst. gn!reader. no pronouns used. shitty summary. reader says something kinda mean. zoro being kind of a jerk. takes place pre-timeskip before zoro leaves the shimotsuki village. mentions of kuina.

── wc. 1.2k.

── notepad. i actually been so long since i’ve written something angsty that just stayed angsty. it hurt my soul just enough. so thank you so much for this !! i know the rq says that the reader wants to break up, but this one is kind of a mutual break up

things just kind of happen, don’t they? everything feels fine one moment, but the next moment not so much. people change all the time, even when you don’t want them to. maybe, you were afraid of change. maybe, you were just afraid of him changing.

he didn’t hold you anymore. when the sun had fallen to rest, and the moon had taken its place to shine silvery blue in the cool night sky. not once had his arms draped over your body like they used to. he hadn’t even faced you, as he drifted into the world of dreams. most nights, he did not even come to bed.

instead of lying beside you until sunrise, he found himself striking a dummy a hundred times with the same attacks to perfect them. instead of breathing in your cozy scent, he had pushed his mortal body way beyond its limits.

he didn’t kiss you like he did before, full of passion and love. his strong hands cradled your face as he kissed like every time would be the last one. instead, he had settled for quick pecks to the side of your temple, as he muttered “love you” against your warm skin. hardly even a moment later, he would be out the door. he didn’t even give you a chance to say it back. he never even said ‘i love you’ anymore.

maybe it was a minor thing to gripe about for some people, for it to be those special three words instead of the two. but it meant a lot to you, and he knew that. or at least you thought your boyfriend of several years would have known that.

you made up excuses, anything to keep you from believing that the man you loved more than anything was changing before your very eyes more and more every day. you found yourself thinking questions you never wanted to think about.

does he care anymore? was he no longer attracted to you? did he even love you anymore? had he ever even loved you?

it filled you with so much dread, to the point it was overwhelming. it was getting harder and harder to keep how you were feeling behind the closed door of your, well once shared bedroom.

you couldn’t keep going on like this. going on like everything was fine when it wasn’t. pretending to be fine, as you watched your neglectful boyfriend exert himself to near injury in the name of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman.

now he was talking about leaving the village to challenge dracule mihawk to a duel? you loved him dearly, but you heard one too many stories about “hawk-eyes”, none of them were good. allowing your boyfriend to even set foot off this island was sending him to an early grave.

you believed in him, sure. one day he would be the greatest swordsman. but for once, you just wanted him to be realistic and realize that that day will not be tomorrow, it won’t be next week, it won’t be next month.

why doesn’t he understand you feel this way because you care about him?

“zoro…” you say gently, standing at the door frame of the dojo.

the swordsman was still swinging away at the wooden dummy that was a few swings away from falling apart. of course, he didn’t hear you the first time. he never did.

“zoro” your voice was much louder this time, finally grabbing his attention. “huh?” was all he even said before he went back to swinging at the dummy. he didn’t even spare you a glance.

“can we talk, please? it’s important.”

“just say what you’re going to say, ( y/n )”

“WILL YOU PUT DOWN THOSE LOUSY SWORDS AND LOOK AT ME!”

you didn’t mean that. you knew just how much his swords meant to him, especially the one dawning a pure white hilt. you knew what his dream meant to him. you were just angry. frustrated. tired.

you watched as he sheathed the swords, and did as you said. his expression was stone cold. it was like looking at a whole new man. never had he ever looked at you like that. you knew what you said hurt his feelings.

“if you’re still trying to talk me out of leaving, forget it. if i don’t do it now then…”

“THEN WHAT?! you’ve never been out of the east blue! and you’ll be a DEAD MAN if you challenge a shichibukai!” you couldn’t stop yourself from yelling. “you don’t know what lies ahead of you in the other seas, zoro! i’m just trying to help you!”

“i never ASKED for your help!” he retorted, clenching his fist around the hilt of one of his swords. he continued, “i never WANTED your help! i never NEEDED your help!”

a silence filled the room, as your face dropped and your heart sank into the dark void of your body. you opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn’t even form the words you wanted to. you weren’t even exactly sure what those words were.

“if i don’t do this now…then i may never have a chance to do it again. i have to do this, I thought you understood that.” his voice was full of disappointment, as he turned his back to you, as if you had meant nothing, as if this has all meant NOTHING.

you balled your fists, “i do understand that! but i also understand that there are battles that we are not prepared for just yet! kuina meant a lot to you, zoro. her dream has become yours, and you want nothing more than to achieve that for her. but you are not ready. letting you go would be suicide! kuina would not want that!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE WOULD HAVE WANTED! YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HER!” he snapped at you.

“YOU’RE RIGHT! I DIDN’T! BUT I KNEW SHE WOULDN’T WANT HER FRIEND DEAD! AND I’M NOT GOING TO SIT BACK AND LET THAT HAPPEN TO YOU!”

“then don’t. leave.”

“…what?”

just like that, you felt everything crash around you. leave? what did he mean 'leave'? leave and go where? how could you leave when this was all you knew? HE was all you knew. you were each other’s firsts. how….could you just leave?

how could he throw everything away? everything you were willing to stay and fix.

“leave! you don’t want to be here then go. nobody’s stopping you.”

he made it clear.

it couldn’t be any clearer than that.

with shaking hands, you slowly turned on your heel, putting one foot in front of the other, walking out of the dojo, walking away from your first love, walking away from the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

you had hoped, he would have stopped you. that he would drop his swords and chase after you, pull you into a hug, and apologize for what he said. you had hoped you just start over, like none of this ever happened. that he would see that you meant well, that you just wanted to keep him safe, that he would stay here with you.

but that didn’t happen. tears flooded your cheeks, as you continued to walk home without him.

it was over, wasn’t it?

© MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA in this friendship? give me a minute here, it's more complicated than it sounds

I'm 19 years old, female. So there's this friend, we'll call her B (also 19F). We've been friends for years, since elementary. We've been good friends for that time, I thought.

But especially during high school, it was hard to spend time with her. She was always convinced the friend group hated her even though all I'd ever hear was that they liked her and were confused/frustrated/hurt as to why she thought that. She's always had a lot of mental illness going on (depression, anxiety, ADHD, etc) so I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. She spent most of her time in another part of the school refusing to spend time with me or the friend group saying she wanted "alone time" even though she was surrounded by other friends.

I knew she was feeling unwanted within the friend group, so I tried to spend time with her when she would let me. But it kind of alienated me from the rest of the friend group so I spent a good portion of my lunches alone. Plus, even though she would say its ok for me to be there, sometimes it felt like she hated me and my presence. But then she would turn around and tell me I was the only one she could be truly honest with, etc, etc.

The reason I tried not to pay too much heed to the idea that she might really hate being my friend is because I also struggle with anxiety pretty badly. I've been working really really hard to just listen to what people tell me, because I can't trust what I'm telling me.

But this feeling continued after high school, and it felt like there was something I didn't know, like she secretly hated me and only put up with me.

Almost every time I would invite her to do something, she would try to invite someone else too. That's fine, but when it happens almost every time... it made me feel like I was unwanted.

I got really clingy. I'll admit that. I texted her often (most days a week) and would get anxious when she didn't respond within a couple of hours, leading to me double, triple texting most of the time. She told me not to text her during work, but how am I supposed to know for sure? She told me her hours once, but I have no record of it and I don't expect her to memorize my schedule so I feel like that's unfair. Plus, if I didn't press for an answer, I often wouldn't get one at all or wouldn't get one for days. Like one time I tried to schedule a time to hang out a few weeks in advance. She told me she would get back to me, but then the day before, still nothing. I texted over and over again, trying to get an answer, until she got mad at me for texting so much and told me she didn't think hanging out would work out. But the point is I got clingy, in a way that I understand made her anxious.

My anxiety got the better of me and I decided to stop contacting her. I held to it for a couple of months, aside from wishing her happy christmas/new years. But my birthday came and went for the second year in a row without a word, and I decided I needed to talk to her about it.

I did, and although she refused to do it in person like I wanted, I thought it was a pretty good conversation. She told me about a couple things I was doing to make her uncomfortable. I promised to work on those and being less clingy. I told her I need her to be honest about the things that bother her, and she said she needed time to work on that skill. She said she was thinking a month, maybe less, so i agreed not to contact her first during that time and she promised to contact me soon.

I didn't hear from her for three months. I finally broke down and texted her, asking to talk it out and telling her this arrangement wasn't working for me. She didn't respond for almost a week. I needed peace of mind, so I said I was done with waiting and I would be open to rekindling the friendship later, but I wasn't going to hold my foot in the door for her any longer. No response again.

I remembered I owed her money and asked her when would be a good time to drop it off (it was not like five bucks, it was a fair amount of money so I didn't want to like leave it on a doorstep or something). No response again for a day. I told her if I didn't hear from her in a couple of days I was going to keep the money.

She finally responded a day later, saying she didn't have the energy for a "high maintenance" friendship and to leave the money in her mailbox.

I don't know who was at fault here. I mean, I was clingy and I ended the friendship, but she didn't give me a chance to change and didn't stick to her word. But I don't know if contacting her again after those three months was clingy? I really don't know, and the end of this friendship has been tormenting me. I just want to know who was at fault and then I can deal with it, but I honestly don't know.

Also, WIBTA for contacting B again and trying to rekindle the friendship?

Please do not ask multiple questions in a single submission. It just confuses things and makes it hard for people to vote in the poll.

[starsurfacemortalkombat]

Politely asking for regressor Bi Han from mk1 headcanons please :)

I almost feel bad, you asked so politely and I'm warning you now, some of these are kinda sad . . . <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Regressor Bi-Han Hcs

❄️ Regresses to about 2-3, sometimes older though

❄️ Involuntarily regressed for the longest time and it terrified him, started regressing when he was about 13

❄️ Did not do CGs for the longest time

❄️ It wasn't until Kuai Liang and Tomas began regressing with or around him that he even thought about

❄️ And even then, you gotta be really, really close to him

❄️ Grew up with a constant fear in mind that someone will walk in, some one will catch him, someone will hurt him while he's vulnerable

❄️ Personal Headcanon that'll effect the rest of my requests: I don't think Bi-Han is a horrible brother. Not a good one, he definitely doesn't like Tomas. But Tomas will glare back at him and mouths him back, things people don't do to abusers.

❄️ ^ I think in the scene where we saw them fight that Bi-Han took it a bit too hard, because yes, Tomas did look genuinely hurt. But I've said things that hurt my own brother before and didn't apologize until later.

❄️ ^ Unfortunately they with both children forced into a terrible situation with no say of their own

❄️ Now, back onto regression hcs-

❄️ Tomas was the first one who found him regressed and it was one of the few times Tomas had ever seen Bi-Han cry

❄️ They were angry tears, and he didn't speak to Tomas for days later, but eventually Tomas sat them both down and they ‘spoke’ (Bi-Han didn't say much, but Tomas found some fruit on his bedside table the next day with a note that only said Bi-Han's name)

❄️ Tomas, Kuai Liang, and himself are his most preferred CGs >:/

❄️ (^ He's had some babysitters, but it took a couple of playdates to even think of it)

❄️ Actually really likes it when Raiden watches him because Raidens really calm and can handle young regressors really well

❄️ ^ Does NOT like hanging out with Kung Lao when hes also small though, he makes too much of a ruckus!! >:(

❄️ Very grumpy baby

❄️ Won't tell you what's wrong, he'll just pout and glare and have tears in his eyes as he stares at the floor

❄️ It can be a bit frustrating, but he knows your doing your best and will cuddle up to you out of apologies

❄️ Lashes out a lot while small

❄️ The easiest things can set him off into a fit of screaming and hitting

❄️ Please don't leave him during this time, just let him act out for a few minutes before hiccuping and looking up at you in shame

❄️ You have to tell him that he's still a good boy, but that's not how we handle our very big and negative emotions

❄️ Experiment with different ways to work with his feelings (blowing finger candles is his personal favorite, but he also thinks it's too silly for him so you have to prompt it)

❄️ No is his favorite and least favorite word

❄️ Hates hearing it from you, but loves hearing it himself

❄️ Hissy fits are also common where he'll stomp his foot and scowl

❄️ Although the softest coe and asking him what's making him all upset makes him melt very quickly and sheepishly whisper what's wrong

❄️ If he's verbally communicating, his voice is very quiet, but he's trying

❄️ Doesn't like watching cartoons but will do so if it means he can cuddle you for a long period of time

❄️ Pulls a Liu Kang and refuses to regress for weeks on end until he drops incredibly hard and is totally dependent on someone (he hates it)

❄️ ^ Kuai Liang and Tomas are working on him with it, don't you worry

❄️ Once had such a stressful week and pushed back his regression for so long that he regressed really young for almost three days straight

❄️ ^ It was also kinda his eye opening that maybe he needed to change some habits of his

❄️ It's a struggle to let himself be vulnerable at times so he'll demand that he changes the channel or cooks his own food

❄️ But only gets more frustrated with himself that he can't do any of the stuff!! >:(

❄️ Just gently shush him and tell him that he doesn't have to be all big and strong anymore, he can be a baby, it's okay

❄️ When he's not throwing a tantrum or having a hissy fit, a pretty good boy

❄️ Pouty, scowly, but also constantly seeks your attention and praise

❄️ Cuddly, but he has to reach out first

❄️ Doesn't speak much unless he has a complaint or is upset, he just doesn't like talking while small

❄️ Unless its a complaint, will complain about everything you do because it's ‘not right’, like putting his goldfish in the wrong bowl and flat out refusing to eat out of them now

❄️ Tell him you don't like being birrated, and his complaining will go to more whiney because he doesn't want to make you feel bad

❄️ He knows he's a lot to handle while regressed, especially if he's had a bad day, and will buy you things when he's bigger as a thanks

❄️ I know it's frustrating at times, but don't yell at him please

❄️ He hates it, he despises yelling, it terrifies him

❄️ Can't do punishments either

❄️ ^ Either of these could cause him to withdraw from you while he's small, and maybe even big

❄️ (Although if all you did was slightly raise your voice when he was upset, he won't entirely run away, he knows it was probably an accident)

❄️ Sitting down, talking about what's wrong, maybe even writing it all out and tearing up the paper later, that's what he'd prefer

❄️ And he is getting better as time goes on, it's really rough at first, but eventually he'll go more for his blowing candles and paper ripping than full on screaming and hitting

❄️ Favorite little nicknames are Snowflake, Sweetie, Baby Boy, Little One, Tough Guy, and Icey

❄️ Favorite little activity has to be reading his nursery rhyme book and cuddling

❄️ Doesn't have any regression items, it too scared to actually own any

❄️ But he has this thick nursery rhyme book that he really likes you to read to him

❄️ Please do voices, it makes him really happy and smiley 🥺

❄️ If you ever got him a paci, he might freak at first, but he does adore it

❄️ Although he'll only use it with his mask on so you can't see

❄️ Although one day he sheepishly used it without his mask, only to hide in your neck

❄️ Your his CG, and he loves you, and he's very thankful to have you in his life <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I love him, I do, but Pookie over here needs to learn how to heal a little bit. He's doing great though (I'm my own mind :3)

[toporecall]

clare.b_x9 - Chapter 4

Feysand OnlyFans AU last chapter! Perfect timing cus I'm heading out on vacation this afternoon and it feels so nice to wrap this up right as I'm leaving :)

I had a lot of fun with this one so hope y'all like it! Def thinking I'm gonna do another OnlyFans one soon with a little more of a scandalous vibe throughout lol

Anyway, final chapter! Here's a little preview and then more under the cut or on AO3.

After a few moments of quiet she asks, “Did you watch my videos?” For a moment, he considers lying but that seems like a bad foot to start on. “I found your profile earlier this week. I watched part of one then I felt too guilty so I turned it off.” Feyre sits up and opens her eyes again, meeting his gaze. “Did you like it?” She smiles coyly, voice lilting into that flirty range he loves.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

*********

Feyre’s hands are still shaking when she and Rhys open the door to his apartment a short time later.

“I’ll get some ice for your face,” she says once the door is shut behind them.

She makes a beeline for the kitchen and Rhys follows. He flips on the light over the stove and leaves the rest off, bathing the room in a dim buttery yellow glow. He hasn’t hit anyone since college, or been hit for that matter, and he welcomes the sting of the cold when Feyre comes to him with a bag of ice wrapped in a thin towel and presses it to his jaw.

“Are you ok?”

Rhys nods. “One hundred percent. Here, I got this.” He takes the icepack from her and holds it to his own face so her hand doesn’t have to be cold. “Are you ok?”

Feyre sighs and pushes herself up to sit on the kitchen counter across from him. That warm yellow lighting does wonders to her, making her appear like an angel with a halo around her head. Or maybe he was hit harder than he realized.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Rhys. I mean, for hitting him but also for…understanding. Always. Everything.” She’s staring at her hands, speaking just above a whisper by the end, like she might break a spell if she speaks too loudly.

“Always, darling.”

She looks up at him again, eyes boring into his just 3 feet away across the small but luxe kitchen.

“About what you said…in the bathroom…”

Fuck, here we go, Rhys thinks. He wonders what will hurt worse: the punch from Eris or being rejected by Feyre.

“I don’t know if this is the right time to say this given, ya know,” Feyre starts, gesturing vaguely around them, “but…I want you too.”

Rhys swears his heart stutters in his chest for a moment. He thinks about something he read on the internet once about pain cementing memories more concretely. He finds himself hoping that’s true, hoping that the pain radiating in his jaw and hand will make this moment last in his memory, crystal clear for the rest of his life. The low light in the kitchen glinting off the white tile floor, surrounding Feyre’s hair in a glow. Feyre propped on the counter, her patent leather heels clicking quietly against the cabinets as she nervously moves her feet. Her brown eyes wide and vulnerable and looking right at him. Her lips that he can finally let himself fully consider without the usual guilt wracking him.

On the rare occasion he’d let himself imagine being with Feyre, it always started in a flurry. They’d crash into each other, up against a wall, kissing so frantically there’d be no chance to second guess their actions or worry about what it might do to their friendship.

But now, in reality, he’s crossing the kitchen at a measured pace, unwilling to take his eyes off of hers. Three steps later and his knees knock against her shins. Feyre is breathing fast, her lips parting as she reaches out a hand and trails her fingers lightly across the blossoming bruise on his jaw. Rhys’s eyes drop to her lips, his hands slide under her jacket and grip her waist, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter. And then he’s leaning in, her eyes are fluttering shut, and his lips are on hers.

It’s all that simple.

And it’s even simpler to sink into that kiss. Her lips are softer than he could have imagined. He kisses her again and again, capturing her lower lip between his and nipping at it just enough for her to feel it. He thinks Feyre likes that because then her lips are parting and her tongue is sliding into his mouth. She threads a hand in his hair and bunches the other in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His hands are still on her waist, fingers tightening when their tongues meet.

She whimpers into his mouth and that catapults his mind to the video of her he’d seen earlier that week. Suddenly he can’t get enough of her—he’s ravenous.

Rhys slides his hands up and pushes her jacket off her shoulders, tossing it to the floor. She parts her legs, letting him nestle between them. His hands are on her ass then, pulling her even closer to the edge of the counter, closer to him. He kisses up the line of her jaw, down her neck where he lets himself get lost in the taste of her skin. She’s panting in his ear, sliding her hands up under his shirt to feel the bare skin of his back. He’s got her pressed so tightly against him, she must be able to feel how hard he is.

He drags his teeth along the juncture of her neck and collarbone and she whimpers again.

“Rhys?” she breathes, panting as he kisses and nips at her collarbone.

“Mhm?” he hums against her skin.

“I just—unhh—” He squeezes her ass. “I just want you to know I’ve never done that before. Slept with someone for money, I mean.”

Rhys pulls back, breathing hard, and uses a hand to tilt Feyre’s chin up so he can look her in the eye. He plants a chaste kiss on her lips.

He pulls back a little more, taking a step away from her. One hand finds her upper thigh and slides down her leg, lifting her calf, sliding down to her foot.

He starts working to unbuckle one of her Mary Jane heels.

“It wouldn’t change anything, sweetheart.” He drops the first shoe to the floor.

“It wouldn’t?” Her voice is unsteady, whether from their kissing or her nerves he’s unsure. Maybe both.

He starts unbuckling the second shoe.

“I want you. Whatever that entails.” The second shoe clatters to the floor. He keeps her foot in his hand, kneading the arch.

She hums to herself, closing her eyes and dropping her head back against the cabinet behind her.

After a few moments of quiet she asks, “Did you watch my videos?”

For a moment, he considers lying but that seems like a bad foot to start on.

“I found your profile earlier this week. I watched part of one then I felt too guilty so I turned it off.”

Feyre sits up and opens her eyes again, meeting his gaze.

“Did you like it?” She smiles coyly, voice lilting into that flirty range he loves.

He can’t help but smirk back at her. “Of course. I nearly had to tear myself from the screen.”

“What was I doing?” A blush starts to spread across her cheeks and chest and Rhys finds himself mesmerized by it. She blinks her big eyes at him.

He swallows hard. “You were in your underwear, looking right at the camera,” he starts.

Feyre gently pulls her foot from his hand. She reaches under her dress to the top of her stockings and starts to pull them off, lifting her hips enough to pull them over her ass and then down her legs, dropping them on the floor by her shoes and jacket. Then she takes the hem of her dress and pulls that over her head, throwing it off to the side too.

She looks him straight in the eye again, smiling just a little. “What else?”

Jesus christ.

Feyre’s wearing a pink bralette, simple but devastating in the way it plays off the pale color of her skin. She’s got on matching pink panties and he has to force his gaze to keep from dropping to admire the way they look between her spread thighs.

Rhys steps toward her again and takes her right hand, placing it on her breast and squeezing.

“You were touching yourself here.”

Then he takes her left hand and places it on her stomach. He covers it with his own, sliding them both down below her navel, under the fabric of her panties. Feyre’s breathing is shallow, coming in little pants already. Her hand is below his so he can’t actually feel anything but he can tell when her fingers graze her clit by the way her breath catches and her body seems to stiffen. “And here, like this.”

He takes a step back and watches as she starts to touch herself just like she had in the video, fingers sliding under her bra to tease her own nipple while her other hand starts moving over her clit, hidden by the fabric. She lets her head drop back against the cabinets again and presses her lips closed but a choked sound still escapes her throat.

“Did you come?” She sounds breathy, undone.

“Later. Thinking about you,” he replies, voice gravelly. She bites her lip. “Fuck, come here, Feyre.”

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

Rhys steps back between her legs and she immediately throws her arms around his neck, their lips finding each other’s again. His tongue slides into her mouth, meeting hers and she swears it’s the greatest thing she’s ever tasted. She can feel his hard cock pressing against her core through the fabric of his pants and her panties.

Feyre’s mind is racing. She thought she’d be mortified to know Rhys had seen her video but she finds that she loves it. She loves the idea of him watching her, hand wrapped around himself. Almost as much as she loves his tongue in her mouth right now, his hands sliding down her back and gripping her ass to pull her even closer to him.

She wraps her legs around him and he lifts her off the counter, carrying her through the apartment to his bedroom. They crash onto the bed together, still intertwined, and now he’s really pressed against her in a way that makes her whimper into his mouth.

“God, I love that sound,” he groans, kissing down her neck to her chest where he peppers little sucking bites across her skin.

She pulls at his shirt and he gets the message, pausing to pull it off over his head. Then his mouth is back on her, nipping one more time at her chest before kissing to one side and enveloping a fabric-covered nipple. He laves at it through the fabric and the heat, the sensation of his tongue, the hand that is now pressing her hip into the bed all work to make her head spin. She feels barely in control of her movements, hips straining against his hand to arch off the bed, her fingers threading tightly in his hair. She cries out and he groans again onto her skin.

He’s back up at her mouth then, his hand cupping the back of her neck as he kisses her deeply. She’s not sure she’s ever felt quite this desperate to be close to someone before. Like even if every part of them were touching it still wouldn’t be enough.

Feyre reaches down to undo his belt buckle and he helps her push his pants off before he slides a hand from her knee to her thigh, squeezing tightly and eliciting a broken little cry from her lips before moving his fingers again to trace over her panties right between her legs. She knows her underwear is soaked through already but she can’t find it in herself to be embarrassed.

Rhys teases her, pushing a finger inside her slightly. He’s pushing through her underwear and it can only reach just inside her but it’s enough to make her let out a high whining sound, twisting her head to the side and breathing frantically.

“Rhys, unhh, oh my god, please,” she gasps. Ok, now she’s a little embarrassed. But she can’t seem to stop herself from reacting like this, so desperate for him.

“Yeah?” he coos, rubbing the center of her with his whole palm. It sends shocks through Feyre and she instinctively moves to close her legs but Rhys pushes them back open with his other hand.

He keeps rubbing her with his palm, varying the speed and pressure so she can’t adjust to any particular rhythm. It sends her mind spinning and she’s groaning deep in the back of her throat, choking on the sounds as she stutters for breath. She doesn’t even notice when he uses his other hand to pull her bralette up her chest.

At least, she doesn’t notice until his mouth is latched on one of her nipples, tongue lapping at her. A high pitched whine escapes her mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses, moving across her chest to her other nipple, “I think I like you like this.”

She wants to reply but then he’s ravishing her other nipple while at the same time pulling her panties to the side and dragging his fingers up and down her center.

“So soft,” he admires quietly.

His mouth is back on hers then, tongue moving possessively over her own. And that’s for the best because his mouth is the only thing to muffle the loud cry that escapes when he sinks a finger in her.

Feyre does her best to kiss him back as he starts to finger her. He moves at a steady pace, like he’s not in a rush at all. For a moment Feyre almost asks for something faster but then the languid build of pleasure starts and she lets herself surrender to the pace he’s setting.

He adds another finger and curls them as he pumps slow and steady. At this pace she can feel every muscle in her body tightening one by one, the pressure inside of her building steadily into something molten hot.

A wave of pleasure is starting in her. She doesn’t mean to but she stops breathing for long enough that she feels her head spin.

“Breathe, baby,” he reminds her, breaking their kiss. Feyre obeys, forcing in a stuttering breath. “Good,” he croons. “Does that feel so good?”

“Yeeesss,” she moans.

It’s a heady thing to hear Rhys—her best friend—speak to her in that voice. That voice that commands attention, drips masculinity and sensuality. She thinks she might do anything that voice asked her to.

“Can you tell me when you’re gonna come, darling?” It’s almost patronizing, the tone he’s using, but she loves it.

She nods and opens her eyes to see him looking down at her, his eyes jumping between her own, her parted lips, the sight of his fingers sinking into her.

He increases the pace and she knows she’s close. She’s fully given up on being quiet at all, turning her head to moan into the skin of his arm so at least it’s muffled.

“Oh…fuck…I’m gonna come,” she whines. Her core tightens suddenly, muscles contracting and she seals her own mouth shut against the scream that wants to escape, whining instead from the back of her throat.

The pleasure crashes, her mind going completely blank as her muscles tighten and loosen and she feels a rush of wetness leave her. In the back of her mind she hears him curse under his breath and then he’s kissing her again.

But he doesn’t slow down. He maintains the same pace as she rides out her orgasm, moaning into his mouth. The pleasure crests and he still hasn’t stopped. If anything, he’s sped up, finger fucking her deliberately, pressing against a spot deep inside of her over and over and over.

And then she comes again, harder this time, nearly gritting her teeth at the sensation. Her only two choices are to stop breathing or to let everything out so she turns her head to the side and gasps for air, crying out into his room.

He finally relents, pulling his fingers from her. He pulls her panties off, finally, and his own underwear too and pulls her on top of him. Feyre kisses him with abandon, tongues exploring openly and it’s loose and easy and unbelievably hot. His hands are all over—sliding over her waist, her hips, her ass, threading in her hair.

She can’t help but rock her hips against his. It’s addicting, the slide of her wet cunt over his hardness. She can’t stop whining into his mouth but at this point she’s too far gone to care at all if she sounds ridiculous and needy. All she can think about is him.

She’s moving her hips a little more intentionally now, sliding over him.

“Feyre…” he breaks the kiss and groans into her ear.

She giggles, loving the way he’s coming undone for her. She sits up a little, a hand braced on his chest and the other snaking between their bodies. She takes his cock in her hand and uses it to rub her clit. Fuck, why does that feel so good?

“So this is just about the money, huh?” He’s smirking up at her, a laugh in his voice.

She moves his cock near her entrance then back up and over her clit again. “Well, I did hear you’re paying double so…” That’s not what this is about and they both know it. This is about years of desire, years of proximity, years of love.

He snorts a little laugh and flips them over, pinning her beneath him on the mattress.

“Worth every penny.”

She gasps at the change in position. He’s poised right at her entrance and all she’d have to do is…

She arches her hips up just slightly and the tip of him is inside her. Even just that bit and she knows she’s a goner. She’s so completely lost on this man, this amazing, sweet, sexy, incredible man.

He kisses her and rocks his hips a little, pushing into her a little farther. She’s already breathing hard, relishing in the tightness it makes her feel. He rocks a little further and pulls back again.

She turns her head to the side slightly to break their kiss. “Rhys, please,” she nearly whispers.

He pulls back, meeting her gaze. Her own neediness is reflected back at her in his own eyes. He slides one hand up to trail his thumb lazily back and forth over one of her nipples.

Her lips are parted, trying to breathe enough to steady her nerves and he doesn’t break their eye contact as he finally pushes fully inside her. It feels unnervingly intimate, keeping that eye contact while it feels like he’s sinking into her very bones.

She finally has to squeeze her eyes shut as he bottoms out inside her and the fullness is almost too much. She sucks in a breath.

“Good?” His voice sounds strained.

She nods, forcing her eyes back open and he starts to move.

Almost immediately, Feyre is floating. She’s never felt anything quite like Rhys. His size, his pace, his presence. His mouth is on her collarbone and he’s pumping in and out of her steady but hard and so much deeper than she’s used to.

“Fuck, oh my god,” she cries out.

“God, Feyre, fuck, you feel so good. You know I’ll always take care of you, right? I’m yours.”

She wants to nod but he has a hand cupping the back of her neck, gripping tightly. She’s holding his arms like they might keep her grounded, keep her from floating away.

But it’s useless. It takes no time at all before the heat starts to coil tightly in her for a third time. Her moans turn to whimpers as she gets closer and closer, higher and higher. The intensity of the pressure is almost overwhelming and she holds on to Rhys even tighter.

He puts a hand on her hip and pushes one of her legs up against her chest, shifting their angle and then she’s seeing white behind her eyelids, the taut pressure inside of her snapping. He fucks her even harder when she loses her grip on the moment, sliding into a blissful oblivion. All she can focus on is his mouth on her neck, his warm skin under her hands and against her body, him hitting a spot inside of her that’s sending her body into shockwaves.

“Yes, Feyre, yes,” he’s saying, moving more roughly, hitting almost painfully deep inside of her but she’s too gone to even care.

One orgasm rolls right into the next and she screams then, distantly aware that she’s digging her nails into his shoulder.

Rhys’s hips stutter and she’s feels something hot inside of her. Even as his motions slow as he comes, her hips are still twitching as she comes down from her orgasm.

Rhys collapses half on top of her and they’re both breathing heavy. After a few moments, he pulls out of her and they roll onto their sides to face each other, still catching their breath a bit.

“That was…” Feyre doesn’t even have the word for it. She just hums a little and smiles at him. At Rhys. He looks beautiful like this, cheeks pink with pleasure, eyes shining, hair a mess.

“Come here,” he says, pulling her hips into him and kissing her deeply. He licks into her mouth, nips at her lips before pulling back and kissing the tip of her nose. “That was perfect. You’re perfect.”

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

Feyre wakes to late morning light and the feeling of lips on her neck. It takes her a second to remember it all but then she takes in the soft white comforter, the dark wood bookshelves, the warmth of the man pressed against her from behind. She hums, content, as Rhys kisses from her collarbone up to her jaw.

“Mmm, good morning,” she says, arching her body into his just a little.

His hand slides up the length of her body, stopping to tease her nipple for a moment before continuing higher to wrap loosely around her throat.

“Good morning, beautiful.” His voice is husky with sleep, the gravel of it going straight to her bones. That hand sits loosely on her throat making her feel something warm and viscous deep inside of herself.

She moans in the back of her throat and rocks her ass against his already hard cock, grateful they fell asleep naked.

It doesn’t take much. She teases him like that for just a few moments before he pushes her to lay on her stomach, head turned toward him. He pushes her legs apart and presses a finger into her from behind, moving at a languid pace. His mouth covers hers and a minute later he’s pulling her hips up just enough to press himself inside of her from behind.

It’s slow, a little lazy, but a bone deep pleasure that leaves her gasping.

And the whole time he’s murmuring to her things like “you have no idea how many mornings I’ve wanted to do this, how many times I’ve made myself come thinking about you like this.”

She comes with a stuttering breath and he follows quickly after.

He rolls off of her and she rolls to fully face him, pulling the blanket back over both of them.

“Good morning,” she says again with a giggle.

He tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear and looks at her like…like he truly thinks she’s the sun. “Good morning, Feyre darling.”

They lay like that for a few long moments and Feyre has to force her heart to calm it’s racing. That look he’s giving her…she knows what that is. That’s a look that wants mornings like this everyday, wants a lifetime of moments like this.

She thinks she might be looking at him like that too.

Rhys’s phone starts to buzz on the nightstand.

“Ughh, hold on.” He twists around to grab his phone and his eyebrows furrow. “Weird.”

“What? Who is it?”

“It’s Mor.”

Fuck. Feyre sits up abruptly and turns to look at the clock on the other nightstand. 10:03. Fuck.

The email. She forgot to cancel the emergency auto send email to Mor.

Rhys answers the call. “Mor? Everything ok?”

Feyre can’t hear what Mor’s saying but she certainly can hear the high pitched, freaked out voice on the other end of the call.

“Oh…the email said what? Yeah, no, I…no it’s fine, she’s here.” He raises his eyes at Feyre. “Yes, here, like with me right now.” Feyre puts her face in her hands, shaking her head. Rhys is laughing a little into the phone and saying, somewhat nervously, “yep, she spent the night here.” Feyre hears a literal squeal over the line and can’t help but smile. “Do you want to talk to her?” Silence for a moment in the bedroom. “Ok, yeah I will. Love you too, Mor. Bye.”

He puts his phone back down and looks back over at Feyre, smirking.

“It was my emergency back up plan in case I got, like, kidnapped or something,” she says, a little embarrassed.

He huffs a laugh. “Honestly, a smart idea.”

“What’d Mor say?”

“That I should make you a good breakfast so you’re ready for a long lecture about how much you scared the shit out of her.”

Feyre laughs. “Yeah, okay, I deserve that.”

“All right, well, guess we need to feed you. Pancakes?”

She smiles at him, at the little spark of light in his eyes she’s rarely seen before. “Yes, please.”

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

@court-of-secrets @tunaababee and @astra-aeterna 😘

the end thank you!!!

[mychoombatheroomba]

Don't Let Go

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 36

You get some unexpected support, and you and Leon come to an understanding that neither of you likes.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Chapter Index

They had the day off, but the first thing that everyone wanted was answers.

To his credit, Krauser took the time to answer them all as best he could. 

“Why didn’t you warn us?” 

“I didn’t know.”

“Do they have the authority to even do that?” 

“. . . Yes.” 

“What are they so afraid of us blabbing about?” 

“You’ll be learning that in the coming weeks.” 

“Are those assholes really going to be staying?” 

“Yes.”

Leon stood in the back as the rest of the squad learned what he already knew: what they’d suffered for. What some of them were being sent home for. No one was happy with the answers given, but most understood. Leon understood. The reasoning, at least. Not the practice. Not the torture. He would never understand that. 

Nor would he understand the answer to the question Valeria hissed out, one that had been eating away at Leon, too. The one thing he wasn’t reasonably sure of, on Krauser’s end regarding the whole experience. 

“They had our letters,” she said, her foot tapping against the floor beneath where she sat on her bunk. “From months back.” 

Leon watched shadow overtake Krauser’s eyes, that crease between his brows deepening. 

“Hadn’t heard from my mom. Is it because they held those letters from us?” 

Krauser nodded once, his gaze unwavering even if it was full of regret. “Yes.” 

“And you knew?” Valeria pressed, hurt evident in her features. 

Another pause, before Krauser nodded. “Yes. STRATCOM procedure. No communication with the world outside during training.” 

“So any letters we sent home . . .” 

“. . . Were never sent.”

Top-secret shit, even before the bioweapons were brought into play. 

Not that it made the pill any easier to swallow. 

Still, the Major didn’t try to shift the blame off of himself, even as Valeria fixed him in a scalding glare. If looks could kill, Jack Krauser would be a pile of ash on the ground. “That’s bullshit,” Valeria snapped. “Sir.” 

“Watch that tone, Soto,” Krauser met her, steel for steel. Leon had seen the man make soldiers give him fifty push-ups for mouthing off . . . but he’d also seen him allow Leon to speak his mind. He’d seen the Major listen to Leon’s own concerns, even if the Major seemed to like quite literally everyone else better than him. So, even if he barked at Valeria now, Leon wasn’t surprised when a moment later, the Major just gave her an apologetic look. There were a lot of those that he gave that morning, until there were no more questions. 

None that anyone was brave enough to ask, anyway. 

Their personal effects were passed back out to them - the ones that had been abandoned in the Humvees when Reed and Hellman had taken the squad. Three days ago. Three days and a lifetime, it felt like. 

Just like how Raccoon City felt like a lifetime in one night. 

Pain had a way of doing that, didn’t it? Warping the world. A day became forever, forever became attached to the idea of something terrible. A cage with no bars. He wondered how long he and the rest would be stuck in that cage? How long the bruises would take to heal, how often, like last night, someone would hear movement in the barracks and jolt awake, expecting a blow for having fallen asleep . . .

Everyone was still so quiet as they unloaded their freshly returned packs. Hard not to be when Andersen and the other three who had failed were there, not bothering to join in the unpacking. What was the point if they were going to be gone by tomorrow anyway?

As for the rest, the day was theirs to do with as they pleased, and no one had any idea how to spend that free time. 

Not until heavy footfalls against the floor made Leon and those around him - Alenko, Williams and Valeria - look up, and they found the Major standing there, his hands behind his back. He looked at each of them, gaze sweeping from right to left before landing on Leon and hardening. Sharpening. Leon was sure then that he was about to hear a speech about his failure. About how he’d broken and the only reason that he and Valeria were being allowed to stay were because of Krauser’s own intervention. Or maybe that this entire thing was because of a request that Leon made. He could think of no other reason for the loathing in that stare. 

Instead, the Major looked back at the group as a whole. “Heard you had some trouble back at Fort Benning,” he said, and Leon’s brow furrowed. So the conversation wasn’t going to be about the beatings taken in those cells, but rather the one that he and the others had taken in defense of one another. “Got a call from Commander Cortez a few days back. Said you got into a fight. That you put twelve of his men in the hospital. That true?” 

That, too, seemed like a lifetime ago. Alenko was the one to nod and answer Krauser’s question. “Yes, sir.” He frowned as he spoke, the expression tugging at the splotches of blue and purple on his face. 

Krauser nodded once, his face set in stone. 

“Good,” he finally said, and Leon recognized veiled pride in his eyes. “Make sure you don’t end up in the hospital too, next time.” 

It was one of the few orders that Major Krauser had given in his time here that Leon agreed with. 

Of course, when the Major unclasped his hands and tossed what he’d been holding onto the bunk nearest him, Leon felt an entirely different wave of emotion sweep through him. The little radio rolled onto its back as it landed amidst the scratchy blankets, leaving a flash of recognition to cross Williams’ and Alenko’s faces as they saw it. The same radio that had been in Cortez’s office. The same one you’d somehow stolen for them, that you’d all been listening to on the ride home before everything went wrong. 

Krauser was giving it back to them. 

“And don’t make a habit of stealing from your Commanding Officers.” 

Leon might have laughed, under different circumstances. 

Instead, he found himself even more surprised as Krauser went on, this time looking towards Valeria. “Your letters,” he began, “they were from your mother?” Hellman must have told him, then. Or maybe Krauser had read the letters himself, after the fact. Leon hoped that wasn’t the case. He hoped he hadn’t read through Sherry’s letters before Leon even had the chance to. Still, he knew enough about the contents to ask.

Valeria’s mouth twitched down, and she nodded once in response, stiff and all too plainly upset. 

Krauser nodded too, and again Leon saw conflict in the Major’s face. Whatever combat his thoughts were doing, though, it was over quickly. “I’ll do what I can to get you clearance to write home. All of you.” 

That was all Krauser said . . . but just before he turned away, his eyes found Leon again. Fixed on him like crosshairs. The words spoken were all that were said, but Leon could see that Krauser had more to say. Something lurking just beneath the surface, unformed but sharp. Leon only glimpsed it for a moment, but it was there all the same. Leon almost didn’t care if the Major was angry, now though. Because even if he didn’t have a home to write to, really, he could write to Sherry. 

He might be able to tell her he was sorry for not answering her letters. To tell her he was okay, to make sure that she was alright too. 

So, whatever was behind the sharp look that he received now, Leon just met that sharpness with gratitude. He didn’t get much but a moment of that gaze losing its edge. Just a second or two, and then the moment was gone, and so was Major Krauser, moving down the rows of bunks. He hesitated as he neared Andersen, the older soldier sitting on the edge of his bunk, looking shell-shocked. 

Krauser looked down at him, his jaw tensing as he reached out a hand, patting the other man on the shoulder. 

Then, lifting his chin, he left the barracks. 

More silence followed, until at last, Williams spoke up. “Looks like Sarge was right about him being proud,” she muttered, watching as he stepped through the door. 

There was no doubt in Leon’s mind. Jack Krauser was an asshole. He had a sadistic streak. He liked to push people and he would never apologize for doing it. All of that was still true. 

But maybe you’d been right about more than just Krauser being proud of you all. 

“Do you buy it?” Alenko asked, looking over at Leon. “That he didn’t know about Reed and Hellman?” He didn’t sound overly skeptical. Just like he wanted to be sure. That he needed that one last opinion that reinforced his own. 

You had faith in the Major. Leon had criticized you for that, once. 

Now he understood it better. 

“He’s telling the truth,” Leon nodded, and he could have sworn he felt hell freeze over because he was defending Krauser of all people. “You saw how he reacted to . . .” to your injury. Leon had seen it up close and personal. The shock that mutated into rage. Rage enough to make Krauser nearly do something stupid. 

“Yeah,” Alenko conceded, knowing well enough what Leon was referring to. They’d all seen the concern the Major had for you. The regret he’d hidden poorly as he answered the questions today. He had not meant you all to come to harm. Not like that. 

Didn’t change the fact that you were still going to be hospitalized for who-knew-how-long. 

“Never seen him worried like that,” Williams nodded, shaking her head. 

“Never seen Sarge hurting like that either,” Alenko said, and tensed when he felt Valeria’s gaze turn on him. She was still feeling guilty, Leon could see it. Alenko could too, shutting his mouth when he realized he’d just reminded Valeria of what she’d inadvertently caused. 

Because Reed and Hellman had asked about the two of you specifically. That’s what Valeria had said last night, and those words had Leon on edge. That’s what made him worry even now that there was danger, even now that they were all free of those cells. 

You’d told him last night that you couldn’t risk him being there, and you hadn’t known how right you’d been. 

The two of you had been obvious with your care for one another. So, even if she’d given up information about you two being close, Leon didn’t blame Valeria for what happened. Even if it was clear that she blamed herself. 

Maybe that was why, after a moment, she reached for the radio that Krauser had left on the cot in front of her, and stood. “Come on then,” she said to the group, and her voice had more resolve in it than Leon had heard in a long while. 

“Where are you-”

“We weren’t the ones that stole the radio, right? And Sarge is gonna get a lot more use out of it than we are.” 

It was a day for looking past old angers, Leon found. He hadn’t liked Valeria much before the trip to Fort Benning. That had changed steadily while there. Now, though, as she marched off in an effort to try and alleviate your loneliness, whether to lessen her guilt or because she genuinely cared for you, Leon didn’t care. What mattered was the effort. It mattered that someone besides him cared enough to think of that before he could even voice it. 

And Leon, for the first time in the last few days, smiled. He didn’t hesitate as he stood alongside her, following her as she moved towards the door. It didn’t take long before Williams and Alenko were following along, too. 

⧫⧫⧫

As soon as you heard the knock on the door, you steeled yourself. 

You weren’t sure how you were going to tell Leon. Distancing yourself had been the first instinct. You were good at that. It would be easy. Well, not easy, but doable. You’d done it once before, after all. 

It had left you feeling like shit, and it hadn’t solved anything. 

You’d both promised to talk about what you were feeling. It was a promise you regretted now that it made things more difficult, but you wanted to honor it. You owed him that much. So, you’d torn your mind apart all morning trying to put together the right words. 

Krauser knows-

Reed and Hellman will be watching-

We can’t-

All of them seemed like bullshit, even if the concerns Krauser had raised were valid. Real. Just as the happiness that Leon Kennedy brought you was real, too. The most real thing you’d felt in months, besides that old and aching pain that you could never be rid of. Pain that was dulled and, sometimes, forgotten around the man you’d come to care for so much. The man you’d watched grow into a stronger person, inside and out. The man you would take a thousand hits for. 

You couldn’t just let that go. 

So when you heard that knock, you weren’t sure what the hell you were supposed to do because Leon wouldn’t want to end this. Not now. And neither did you. 

The door opened and you found yourself speaking on instinct alone. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you repeated the words from the night before, not looking up from that spot on the floor you’d chosen as yours. 

And then you regretted not looking up as soon as you heard a smoky but strained voice reply. “Nice to see you too.” 

Your head snapped up and you pushed yourself up from bed, thanking the pain meds in your system for allowing the movement. Valeria didn’t wait to be invited in. Neither did any of the three people following her. Alenko and Williams gave you gentle, apologetic smiles as they followed the shorter woman in, and you felt your heart splinter because you’d thought to spend this day alone, like the last time. You thought you’d have to push Leon away the moment he stepped through the door, just for the sake of keeping up appearances. 

Instead, you found yourself looking at your squad mates with wide eyes. 

And when Leon did walk through the door, you felt that splintered heart break apart when he smiled at you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, and you knew this conversation was going to hurt. Both of you. 

But what conversation was it going to shape up to become? 

You didn’t know, and, as you looked at the four visitors in front of you, you decided that maybe you didn’t want to know, either. 

“Hey,” you said. “What are you all-”

“We got the day off,” Valeria answered. “Figured you could use the company.” 

“If you wanted it,” Leon added, giving you an understanding look. 

You’d been alone during your recovery from Finland. Krauser had checked in on you when he could, but he had a life and duties to attend to. The nurses that pitied you had made for shitty companions. Not that you’d wanted anyone, anyway. Solitude. That had been your companion and your shield. You’d thought just Leon had the ability to break down that barricade around you. 

You’d been wrong. 

It wasn’t quite a smile that you gave the group as you nodded, but it was close enough. “Okay.” 

That surprise and that slight smile only grew as Valeria held out her arm and presented you with none other than the little radio you’d stolen from Cortez’s office. “Think you’re missing this, too.” 

You weren’t sure what to think as you took the radio from her. Valeria seldom did anything without cause. What was her reasoning for this? For being, well, downright kind to you? You didn’t know, and, honestly? In that moment, when you had been so sure you’d been condemned to isolation in every possible way, you decided that you didn’t care, either. 

So, you settled the radio between your hands, fighting back the new kind of pain in your chest. One not born of your cracked ribs or the fear that Krauser’s words had instilled in you. 

This pain was sweeter. One you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, looking from Valeria, to Leon, and then the rest. 

Valeria just shrugged. “You’re no fun when you’re miserable. So pick a station and let’s fucking relax for once.” 

You couldn’t really argue with that, so you flipped switches and dials until you heard a synth beat and vocals you hadn’t heard in so long. A song from another life. 

“. . . there’s no turning back.”

“Even while we sleep . . .”

“Shit,” Alenko smiled wide as he took a seat a ways away from the bed you sat in. “I love this song!”

Williams just nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall. “Least it’s not the Spice Girls,” she mumbled over her split lip before she looked over at the rest of you who, back in the Humvee, had made her sit through one of their songs. It seemed her opinion of them hadn’t improved. “Respectfully, they’re shit.” The near-apology was delivered with a near-smile to match. 

“Well, Williams,” you found yourself saying, even if your words were muted by the ordeal you’d just been through. Still, there was something familiar there. Something you’d rediscovered at Fort Benning, and were glad to find at your fingertips now; humor. That was what ever-so-slightly colored your words as you told Williams, “ respectfully, go fuck yourself.” 

An Army brat like you, Williams just smirked right back. 

“Help me make the-”

“Most of freedom and of pleasure-”

“Nothing ever lasts forever . . .” 

It made it easier, having them there. There weren’t many words, but there didn’t need to be. You all just listened to the song as it played, finding a comfortable state of quiet between each other. Valeria moved to lean against the wall by Williams’ side. Leon . . . you could tell he wanted to move closer to you. You wanted that too. You wanted it to be just the two of you, like in the hospital in Fort Benning, but Krauser’s warning hung over your head. 

“There’s a room where the light won’t find you-”

“Holding hands as the walls come tumbling down-”

“When they do, I’ll be right behind you . . .”

Being alone with him was dangerous, more so now than it ever had been. That didn’t change simply because you wanted his presence or company. Your desire for him wouldn’t be pitied in a court martial. Not if Reed and Hellman were already looking at you like an infected limb that needed to be cut away.

You needed to heal, and Leon needed to finish this training. You both did. You’d just never thought it would be apart. 

“So glad we almost made it . . .”

So . . . you would be alone with him one more time. At least for a while. 

“So sad they had to fade it . . .”

You hoped he would understand that this was for the best, for now. 

The song eventually finished and you looked up to meet his eyes. You’d learned to speak without words to each other, now. So many stolen glances and nights spent side by side, in training or with him pressed up against the wall of the mess hall, you had a language all your own. Insight into each other’s thoughts. And as you looked into those ocean blues, you saw your own thoughts reflected back at you. 

There was a talk to be had, and both of you knew it. 

⧫⧫⧫

The day went on and eventually the others left. Alenko was first, saying he was going to go in search of food. Had to be desperate, to want what the mess hall served, but Leon didn’t begrudge him. The hunger of those three days had left them all empty just as much as the rest of the experience had. 

Williams went next, saying she needed to move, to make up for those days spent in captivity. Valeria didn’t take much convincing when asked to join her.

Leon almost told them to be careful. To not let the agents see them. 

To not end up in the predicament that the two of you were in. 

A situation that became clear and present, once the two of you were left alone, the radio playing on. 

“How are you feeling?” He knew what the answer would be, but he asked anyway.

“They gave me pain meds,” you shrugged as best you could, “so not that bad right now.” 

At least there was that. Even if you shouldn’t have had to be in the infirmary in the first place. “Have they told you how long you’ll be on bed rest?” Leon asked, because he didn’t want to have the other conversation. Not yet. 

The mirth that had been present on your face, however muted, faded. “It was a six week recovery last time. For the bones.” 

“Six?” The number sounded so much worse than what Leon had imagined. He remembered his own long recovery from the gunshot wound he’d suffered in Raccoon City. It had seemed long then, but he hadn’t been kept from anything. It hadn’t stopped him from living his life. Not that he’d done much living after that night anyway. Still, he couldn’t imagine what this was like to you, because it would be six weeks without physical training. Six weeks without sparring, without being able to clear your head in the way Leon knew you would need. Six weeks of what would be hell to you. 

And if you couldn’t train for combat like the rest of them . . . would you be able to graduate with the rest? With him? 

“You need to keep practicing,” you told him, and by the stiffness of your words, Leon could tell that you were thinking of exactly what he was thinking of. It sounded like you were telling him to go on without you. “Train with the others, but ask Krauser to spar too. He’s the best. He’ll kick your ass, but he’ll make you better.”

“You say that like you’re not gonna-”

“I’m not gonna be able to spar with you, Leon. Not for a while. I’m not gonna be there. You can’t let yourself fall behind with me.” 

The words, while well intentioned, were painful to hear aloud. True, but painful because after months of training with you, he couldn’t imagine not being by your side. He didn’t want to have to train for hell on earth and not know that you would be there to face it with him. 

But you were right. 

As unfair as it was, as completely and utterly shitty, you were right. 

“Okay,” he nodded. “But then when you’re better, we’ll catch you back up.” Because he knew you would need it. He knew you’d want it, too. That after so long letting your body heal, you would want nothing more than to throw yourself back into the swing of things. 

The trouble was-

“Leon . . .” you shook your head, and he knew that the conversation he’d dreaded was here. “Krauser knows.” 

Just like that, the color drained from his face. You’d never been one to beat around the bush, but those words were like being doused in ice water.

“About . . .”

“Us.” 

He felt a pit open up in his stomach that threatened to turn him inside-out, and all he could do was sit on the bed beside you. The jaws were closing in. Had that been the cause of that look from Krauser earlier? Had the Major been looking at him with such disdain because of that?

“. . . Fuck.” It was really all he could say. Why even warn you about Reed and Hellman if the game was already over . . .

“He’s not going to report it.” 

. . . or maybe not as over as Leon had thought. 

“What?” he blinked, turning to look at you without bothering to hide his confusion. Major Krauser hadn’t exactly been by the books, as far as Leon knew, but he’d been so adamant about respecting the order of things. This whole mess had happened because he’d not wanted to step outside the bounds of red tape. Why the hell hadn’t he reported fraternization? 

“Said he doesn’t care. But he also said that Reed and Hellman will.” 

Leon nodded, trying to reconcile all the mismatched thoughts and solutions buzzing around his mind. 

“So he’s saying he won’t stop us but if we get found out we’re fucked.” 

You just nodded, the air growing heavier and heavier with each moment. Because Leon knew where this was going, just as much as you did. 

Leon pursed his lips, looking down. “They asked about us during the interrogations,” he finally said. “Reed and Hellman. Valeria told me they were asking.” 

It was your turn to frown, he could see it out of the corner of his eyes. He wouldn’t rat Valeria out, but you deserved to know that the agents were onto you, even if Krauser wouldn’t be the one to confirm it.

Why wouldn’t he confirm it?

“Then they’ll be watching.” 

Leon nodded once, feeling emptiness beginning to set in. “So what do you want to do?” he asked, dreading the answer because he’d heard the distance in your voice last night, and he could hear it even then. He’d heard it once before, after you’d kissed him that first night and tried to convince yourself and him that it was a mistake. 

The difference was that, then, he’d seen that emptiness in your eyes, too. He’d seen you retreating into yourself. 

He knew you well enough now to know that the look that he saw in your eyes didn’t match the attempt at distance in your voice. Because, as you turned your gaze up towards him, Leon could see only conflict. Only you, a casualty of the crossfire between what your mind had to be telling you and what your heart wanted. When you answered, that conflict was all the more apparent. “You know what I want. But we have to be smart about this. Because if Krauser knows - and has for months now - then Reed and Hellman will pick up on it too, and they’re already gunning to cut me for this shit,” you gestured down to your ribs, and Leon swore he heard your voice waver.  

“They wanted me out, too,” Leon admitted, and he watched some fear seep into your expression. “Krauser convinced them to let me stay.” 

And again, Leon found himself wondering why?

“They wanted . . . why?” you asked. Why they’d wanted Leon gone - that’s what you were asking about. 

“Because I broke,” he admitted, his voice hushed. Not ashamed, but overwhelmed by other emotions. “When they were hurting you, I had to get them to stop. So I was going to tell them what they wanted to know. Right before Krauser got there.” 

You looked at him then, silent, your eyes piercing his own. Searching and seeing straight through him, just as you always had. 

You had suffered on account of him. It was the last thing he ever wanted for you, but you’d endured it. You’d taken pain for him, in fights and behind bars, and you’d been taking pain from him for far longer. With your company, with your touch. You’d helped each other learn to walk again. It was what had made him fall in love with you, even if it had been something that happened to him at the end of your knife. 

He loved you. So, he made a decision. 

“Look,” he went on, turning to face you more, feeling something in him building. A resolve or a desperate hope, he wasn’t sure. “I’ll focus on training. I’ll work with Krauser, I’ll . . . I’ll only visit you with the others, if you think it’ll be less suspicious. But I’m not leaving you here by yourself. I’m not letting go of this. I can’t do that. Not if you don’t want to let go, either.” 

He watched you, feeling emotion overtaking him. Bearing down on him, nearly making him shake because it had all been too much. Raccoon City. STRATCOM. All the hurts he’d suffered - that you’d suffered - and the best thing to come from it all had been this. You. 

So, his throat constricting, he hoped that you felt the same way. 

For a moment, he worried, because you were staring at him like he was something you could never have. He saw the regret in your eyes, the tension in your body, like you were bracing for some great pain. It all faded, though, and the corners of your mouth turned up just a bit. The dark of night graying as the sun tried to appear once more. 

It was all the warning he had before your lips were on his, and Leon felt the resolve he’d built up for months, the guard he’d put around himself in that prison, crumble. Emotion and relief flooded him, and his hand shook a bit as he lifted it to your face. It was different from the kisses the two of you had stolen in the shadows. Different than the sweet one he’d given you in the hospital at Fort Benning. This was all longing. Wordless in its declaration. He held you gently, no longer needing to memorize the feel of you but trying to hold on to every detail anyway. 

Because he didn’t know when he’d next get the chance to kiss you. Or hold you. Or be with you the way he wanted. 

But he wasn’t letting go. 

“I don’t want to let go, either,” you told him, your lips against his. “I don’t know when we’ll be able to-”

“Neither do I,” Leon admitted, as the words tore at him. “But . . . we’ll find a way.” 

He had to believe that. 

He had to believe that this wedge being driven between the two of you wouldn’t change what he felt. And to that end, he would watch. He would find moments of safety for the two of you, he would learn to play the spy game if it meant he could steal a few heartbeats with you. He’d wait for those moments, and he’d wait for you. 

However long it took. 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

[chronicmisfit]

Hallo Azul, could I order Fruit salad and a Caramel Latte with Whipped Cream. Additional Comments: Include Hanahaki disease plz, i'm sorry if i did the additional part wrong

Oh my god Anon, I was so inspired by your request that I ended up writing so much that I would qualify it as a oneshot instead of a drabble. Also I may have gone a bit heavier on the hurt than the comfort.

And dw, you did perfectly.

Order: Romantic Jude Jazza with Hurt/comfort

Additions: Hanahaki Disease

Monkshood: A flower meaning hatred. This flower was included to represent that Kate thinks that Jude hates her. As a bonus, they are purple.

Orchids represent luxury, beauty, and refinement as well as longing for someone out of reach. That along with the purple hue they can have make them the perfect fit for Kate who is in love with Jude.

Kate tries to hide the disease as long as she can

Ellis is the one who discovers the flowers

But Ellis has to take the flowers to another member of Crown to find out the meaning

Once he knows the meaning, Ellis is pretty sure that whoever the flowers came from is in love with Jude

He tries to tell Jude about Kate’s feelings, but Jude keeps himself from hearing Ellis (Jude doesn’t want Kate wrapped up in this world of darkness)

It takes Roger telling Jude what is going on for him to act

Jude knows what Hanahaki disease is so just hearing those words has him rushing to her side

Kate hides the flowers in the trash bin in the restroom before heading back to her room, lying about feeling tired to anyone who passes by her.

Purple and white petals and fully purple petals spill out of the bin when Ellis looks around- half an hour later- after seeing one peek out. “Who…?”

Ellis knows about Hanahaki Disease, he has tried to help people get over it before so that he could see them happy, with questionable results. He’s not even sure what these flowers mean. He realizes which Crown member could help him only after he’s already halfway to his room with the petals in hand.

“Hm? Ellis?” Harrison looks at Ellis, then the bloodied petals in his hand, “Are you in love with me or something?”

“No, I need to know what these mean.” Ellis stares at the petals as if they are a 10 foot wall blocking him from paradise. “I need to help whoever coughed them up.”

“I don’t know anything about flowers.” Harrison says with an aloof smile.

Ellis names a mystery novel that Harrison was reading just last week. In the book, the killer left a flower at each crime scene, denoting a feeling that the victim had moments before their death.

Harry chuckles, “Ah, so you knew I was lying then. Come in, I can’t find out what those petals are from here.”

Ellis sets the petals down on the table in Harry’s room while Harrison grabs a book off the shelves. For a minute, Harrison examines the petals while flipping through the book.

‘Language of Flowers’ Ellis reads the cover of the book. It was likely bought the day after he started reading that mystery novel in an attempt to figure out who the killer was before it was revealed.

“These…” Harrison points at the purple and white petals, “Look like Orchids. They represent Luxury, but also longing. Whoever has Hanahaki disease must be in love with someone that they think is unreachable.”

Ellis points at the other petals, “What about those?”

“Those appear to be Monkshood, also known as Wolfsbane. Those mean Hatred, whoever they’re in love with either hates them, or made them think they hate them.” Harrison answers smoothly, “If you think I’m lying you can double check.”

Ellis shakes his head, “I think that the one who coughed these up is in love with Jude then. But I don’t know who coughed them up.”

“I can help there too.” Harrison smirks as Ellis’ head snaps up to look at him, “Kate said earlier that she was going to rest because she was tired, but she was lying, she also seems to have some kind of cold.”

Ellis’ eyes widen as he wonders how he didn’t notice. The next week is spent trying and failing to convince Jude to talk to Kate. However, Jude won’t even let Ellis get out the words “Hanahaki Disease” before he tells Ellis to shut up and do his job.

At the end of the week, Roger approaches the two as they come back from a mission.

“We’re fine, ya Quack, fuck off.” Jude snaps, particularly annoyed after their mission.

Ellis ignores Jude, “Is something wrong?”

Roger nods, “It’s about Kate.”

“Oh yeah, is there a real reason princess decided to blow off her job?” Jude smirks.

“Did her disease get worse?” Ellis asks.

“You knew?/The fuck’re ya on about?” Roger and Jude speak simultaneously.

Roger looks at Jude, “Since Ellis already knows, let me tell you. Kate has Hanahaki Disease. That means-”

“I know what that means, quack. What’s it got to do with me?”

“She’s in love with you, Boss.” Ellis frowns, then addresses Roger, “How bad is it?”

“She’s coughing up full flowers now.” Roger says grimly, “It’s only a matter of time before her fate is sealed.”

Halfway through Roger’s statement, Jude grits his teeth and leaves.

“Wait!” Ellis calls out.

In Kate’s room, there are some medical supplies that Roger left in here when he went to talk to Ellis and Jude, and there is a large pile of purple petals and flowers. The girl who stays in this room is sat up on her bed, leaning against the headrest as she coughs up more blood than flowers at this point.

“Princess-!” Jude slams the door open. “Shit. Ya look pathetic.”

From where he stands, Kate does look pathetic. Blood drips down her chin and covers her hands, the latest flower- another orchid- in her hand. “J-Jude. I know. I’m sorry.” Her voice is hoarse from coughing as much as she has the past couple weeks.

“Yer also an idiot. Ya should have went to the Quack the moment ya got sick, especially the moment ya started spitting out all this mushy shit.” Jude continues, “But ya also should’ve never gotten sick in the first place. Ya shouldn’t have feelings for a guy like me. And you’re a special kind of naive for falling for me. You’re especially an idiot for not realizing that I care about ya.”

“W-what-?” Kate’s eyes widen at the last statement Jude says.

Jude scoffs, “I’m never repeating that, so you better have heard me.”

Tears well up in Kate’s eyes as she feels the flowers stuck in her throat go away.

“Damn, you look good like that.” Jude smirks at her tears, “Don’t expect me to kiss ya, yer’ve got blood all over ya. And don’t expect the kind of relationship a naive princess like you would want. I’m not doing all that.”

“Okay.” Kate chuckles, slightly delirious from the mixture of blood loss and finally knowing that her feelings are returned.

Jude turns toward the open door and sneers, “Ellis, I know yer out there, come help her get cleaned up. I’ve got work to do.”

Masterlist

[oxpogues4lifexo]

Keeping up with the Camerons

TumblrTV

Keeping up with the Camerons

Episode 1 - Kildare Royalty - Part 3

Episode transcript (/ means cut scene, bold italics means narrator, bold means host)

Word Count: 3K

Part 2 Here

"Are you having a girls night tonight? Seeing as everyone's here!"

"What do you mean? Sorry. Bella isn't here?" She tilts her head in confusion, having to push her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

Ryan sniffles, holding back an obvious laugh, "Bella's.. Bella's on the boat! You didn't know that?"

"Bella's here??" Her demeanour changes. Her body lifts as her eyes light up, a soft smile taking her lips. She grips onto the edge of the couch to hold herself from getting up.

"Uh yes she is!" There's a small pause. Ryan watches Wheezie as if she was about to say something and Wheezie waits for Ryan to move the conversation along, feeling slightly uncomfortable in the silence.

He coughs and his fingers find his hair, "Would you uh.." He contemplates his next words not knowing if he should cut the interview short or not. "Do you want to go?"

You see her lips quiver, her mouth opening and closes contemplating the same exact thought before settling back down into the couch. "No, no.. I shouldn't! I mean.. I can see her later!" The tone of her voice was evidently disappointed. With how sweet she's been and how patient she was Ryan couldn't help but feel bad for her determination for the show; when everyone else was quick to move on.

"No it's fine you go! We had finished the questions anyways." He gives her a reassuring smile as he stands up. He lied straight through his teeth it was obvious. This whole time there were no set questions. Anyone could've known that. But with Wheezie's mind somewhere else she didn't even think to question him.

Her lips grow wider as she lifts herself from the couch, opening her arms wide to gesture a hug. Ryan takes the opportunity, gently patting her back and whispering in her ear.

Barely made out by the camera, "You deserve it.."

She smiles once more, waving bye to the camera before running off quickly outside.

/

"Sarah I didn't want to bring this up but I'm not sure what else to ask really. Wheezie told me that you and Bella don't like each other. Why?"

"Uhh.. I dont understand? I never said I don't like her? We just don't talk."

"Sarah?" A small voice radiates through the air causing the blonde to look away from the camera.

"Hey Wheez, you okay?"

"Yeah. Um.. Topper wants you!" She plays with the string of her bikini that she only just changed into from the boat.

"Okay. Well Ryan said we're finished so I'll be out in a second!"

"Okayyyy!" Wheezie skips off back outside.

/

And with that the interviews were done.

More will be revealed throughout the rest of the week so don't worry about the lack of questions. We're finding everything out at the same time as the rest of you!

Whilst Rose makes dinner and Ward gives us a tour, the kids take some time to rest on the boat. The cameramen and I will join them but after today, all filming at home will be done by pre-setup cameras. You'll see me around from time to time but other than that, my time here in TannyHill has come to an end!

Thank you.

/

"Oh my god??"

"Topper stop your gonna get hurt!"

"Top your not close enough!"

"Rafe??"

"What's going on here?" Ryan steps into the boat, the sudden shock causes Topper to lose his footing and fall off the edge of the boat, a big splash of water hitting everyone close enough, including Ryan.

The kids all can't help but laugh, Rafe's radiates in the air whilst Wheezie covers her mouth, knowing she shouldn't really be laughing. The only person not to laugh would be Sarah. She quickly runs over to the edge of the boat and leans over, giving Topper her hand to pull him back up.

"Thanks.." He wraps his arms round himself as he tries his best not to shiver whilst Bella runs inside to grab him a towel.

"Um. Im sorry I didn't mean to scare you."

Topper scoffs, "Scare me? You didn't scare me don't worry. I just.. slipped!"

Kelce and Rafe both look at one another, whispering something inaudible to the cameras.

"Top you wouldn't have fallen if you weren't scared!" Bella mocks as she hands him the towel, his eyes snap to her. She giggles quietly as she stares back, "What's wrong?"

"Say that again Bells.. I dare you!"

She shrugs, dropping herself beside Rafe, his grip on her waist was tight enough that she wasn't scared for Toppers reaction, "Okay! You wouldn't have fallen if you weren't scared!" She giggles again, this time slightly muffled as Topper jumps for her, the towel falling off him as he chases Bella inside.

"For fuck sake.." An unfamiliar voice speaks up. Ryan and the others look over at him.

"Cal I swear just leave her be for once." He mumbles sharply, eyes burrowing into Callum's skull.

Despite Rafe's attempt at stopping his next move, Callum ignores him and gets up anyways.

"Dude?? It's not like he's gonna hurt her. Jesus calm down!" Kelce steps in, as he noticed the look in Rafe's eyes.

//

"Rafe can't stand the way Cal treats Bella. It's obvious I'm sure you've all noticed it too. But to be fair we all can't. It's not like Topper did anything wrong and as far as we all knew, Bella was smiling and laughing and everything. She was fine. Cal was just being unnecessary!" Kelce states, later on in the evening. The air was cooler and the sky was dark. He was outside by the pool, slightly private from the rest of his friends in the living room. The host was taking turns to pull them out separately to speak on the day. Just like he did with the rest of the family earlier.

//

Callum takes a glance at Kelce before noticing a camera inside the boat. Whatever happens, it'd be caught on camera. He has nothing to worry about. Without a word he sits himself back down next to Rafe.

"Dude just gotta chill alright." Rafe slaps his arm.

Ryan places himself on the edge of the boat as he watches Topper and Bella come back outside, Bella now on his back giggling to herself.

"Wheezie!" Roses voice appears from around the corner. Wheezie's eyes widen and she quickly runs off back down the dock. Sarah also lifts herself from the chair, "I'm gonna go too.." she mutters to Topper before placing a kiss to his cheek and stepping away from the boat.

/

"Sarah's avoiding the cameras! She hates it. Unless it's about her or she's asked a question she has no reason to be on it and therefore she won't be. It's fair enough. I just don't get it tho like this shows about her you know?" Topper explains as he runs his fingers through his golden strands.

/

"Well.. nice to meet you all!"

Everyone repeats his words back as they turn themselves to face the camera. "Well Rafe mentions how you've all been friends for some time. How did that all start?"

They all look at one another waiting for someone to answer. No one does for an awkward minute so Bella speaks up, "Well I mean, after mine and Cals dad passed we moved in here with Rafe. And by that point he was already friends with Topper and Kelce so we all just got close through each other!"

"Bella, Sarah mentioned how you two don't talk anymore? Why?"

Her shoulders shrug as her eyes follow to her brother. "I'm not too sure. We were friends for a few years and then she kinda just.. stopped talking to me. I don't know people grow out of things I guess.."

"Oh that's a shame. But you have these four now!"

"Yep! And I wouldn't change it for anything!" She smiles softly, the boys coo at her as Rafe wraps his arm round her neck, pulling her closer to his chest. He places a kiss to her head as the other boys start making out with the air.

Bella giggles at the joke but Cal wasn't taking it as he chucks an empty can at their heads, ultimately silencing the group.

The awkward silence causes a few quiet giggles which soon erupt into a mass of laughter.

One look at the other and they cracked. So they forced themselves to stop and look anywhere but each other.

"You guys seem like you get along very well-" A few snickers follow, "In every group there's a dynamic right? Like the funny one or the smart one. What would you all name yourselves?"

They all look around as silence hits once more.

Bella looks up at Rafe and immediately her eyes light up, pushing herself to sit up using his thigh. "Rafe's the 'slut' of the group!" The others begin laughing again as Rafes faces scrunches, his head tilts to her as his eyes sit wide. He lets out a small sigh, "I can't argue with that to be fair."

"He literally tells me, in detail, every little thing that happens on a date. Like it's everyday there's someone new and I don't actually care."

"I thought you know.. cos you're the 'virgin' of the group you'd wanna know?"

Her mouth falls as she smacks his chest, "Your an asshole!"

He laughs at her expression, before soon apologising quietly.

"Nah l'd say that Bella's definitely the mum of the group!" Topper finally admits, his giggles finally subsiding.

"Oh yeah totally!" Kelce agrees as Bella's smile comes back, her head turning towards them shyly as a small blush takes her cheeks.

"The other day we came to hers after we got into a fight-"

Bella sighs, lifting her hand up to the camera in shock, "With my best friend by the way!"

"Oh yeah! She has OTHER friends!" Rafe scoffs jokingly as she rolls her eyes.

"Yeah one!"

"Two.." he corrects, earning him another smack, this time to his arm.

"Anyway.." Kelce chuckles as his and Toppers eyes stick on the other two for a while. "Yeah okay we got into a fight with her friend-"

"Who, may I ask?"

"Uh JJ Maybank!" Bella blurts out proudly, a smile taking her lips as her cheeks redden once again. Cal groans at the name and Rafe scoffs.

//

"I swear to God everytime I speak about him, it's made out like such a big deal. It's not. We're just friends?"

//

"We were like bleeding and shit, bare in mind this was like three in the morning! And she came and cleaned us all up and then slept in the living room with us."

"To be fair we're only still all alive cos of Bella so.. thanks!" Topper laughs.

She smiles at the camera, shrugging her shoulders, "What can I say!"

They all laugh with her before Ryan, again, cuts the moment short. "So how did you and JJ meet then? Seeing as he is on the other side of the island!"

"Well I mean I met him through John B! John B works for Ward and I go with him whenever he goes down to the docks. So yeah me and John B got close but me and JJ got closer!"

"Unfortunately.." Rafe mutters and Bella shoots him a dirty look, Kelce pipes up, "To be fair he's not wrong! Whats wrong with us? The Kooks not good enough for you?" He mocks knowing he's getting under her skin.

"I.. obviously not! You guys are family to me! I just sometimes want to talk about you guys with someone else."

"Wait-"

"What??"

She giggles, "I'm joking dickheads!"

"Bella, sorry to ask but-" just those few words caught Cal's attention. He looks up at him suddenly, eyes sharp and brows furrowed.

Bella looks up at him too, but with the opposite complexion; her face holding a sweet smile.

"Earlier, when you were on the phone with Rafe, you sounded upset. What happened?"

"Dude what the fuck? Why's that got anything to do with you??" Rafe interrupts, his voice harsh. His eyes cutting deep into Ryan as his hand finds Bella's back; pulling her in slightly.

Her eyes widen as she takes a glance at him, "Rafe.??"

"No! He's got no business being all in your fucking issues this ain't the Brooks show??"

"You gonna ask actual questions or you gonna leave? We were fine here without you bothering us!" Callum states plainly, bored of the constant interrogation. His body shifts to sit closer to Bella, facing away slightly so she was partly hidden from the camera.

"Oh my god.. I'm sorry! Maybe we could talk another time?" Bella's face falls as her mouth sits agape, her eyes glassy as a slight shakiness fills her words.

"No you wont!!" Callum orders forcefully.

Rafe smirks, lifting a hand to the camera as the other sits tighter round Bella's waist, holding her back from being able to move, "Bye Bye now!" He waves them away.

When they don't budge, Callum stands up and before he could even take a step, the camera crew and Ryan were gone.

//

"Yeah so uh.. they're just a 'little' protective? It doesn't take much to piss them off really. Even if it's not, if they think somethings bothering me they have no issues to deal with it right then and there. I just didn't expect it on camera! Sorry. But um.. yeah the question you asked! I don't feel comfortable answering, sorry. But I'm fine! Promise!"

/

"Bella hates when Rafe and Cal get up in her business. Like she tries so hard to be nice and they make her seem worse. I get it I do, but she kinda signed up for it when she became friends with us!" Topper chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.

//

Rose finished up dinner and Ward finished with the tour, and after the small interviews with the family, everyone sits down for dinner around the dining table.

Whilst the family have their dinner I'll take this moment to say thank you for watching! It was a pleasure filming and making this for you. The Camerons are, well sometimes, are a delight to be around! And we can't wait to show you more. This has been Keeping up with the Camerons!

Oh! And before you go, look at this gem we caught that night.

/

"Rafe.." Bella mumbles. It was dark, too dark that the camera could barely make out her figure as she leans over the edge of the couch.

Rafe lay on the floor next to her, Callum by her feet and Topper and Kelce on the other chairs.

It was late, around 1 in the morning.

"Rafe.!" She repeats, this time Rafe hears and covers his eyes with his arm.

"Mm."

"I can't sleep.."

Rafe opens his eyes finally, lifting himself onto his elbows to get a better view of her in the dark. "Why not.?"

"I don't know." She plays with the blanket that lay on her. His eyes follow her fingers as his concern grew.

"You don't know..?"

"Mm.. maybe because of the cameras?"

Rafe frowns and looks around, not realising there were any in the room, "They're still on..?"

"Mhm they're always on Rafe."

"Shit.." He watches her for a minute, running his hand through his hair before lifting it to take hers. "Okay.. You wanna go sleep in my room.?"

"Umm.." Her eyes drift away, Rafe catches her face in the moonlight as she looks around the room with a slight frown.

After she doesn't answer he stands up, reaching out his hand to take hers, "Come on.."

She doesn't hesitate to take his hand. He guides her up the stairs and they stop by his bedroom door. Bella looks over his shoulder at the two cameras sat in the hall. He realises what she's looking at and takes her hands, "Hey.. don't let the cameras get to you okay.?"

She sighs, looking down at their hands as she swings them side to side, "That's easier said than done Rafey.."

"I know I know.. sorry.. but just.. I mean it. Pretend they're not there!"

"Mmmm.." She wines, bouncing up and down. Her tiredness and frustration adding up into one big pile of upset.

Rate follows her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear and resting his hands on her shoulders, "I know Bells.. but it's just a stupid show my dad wanted to do. If you want a camera off I'll make them turn it off. You want something cut out the show? Then I'll make that happen, okay? You just worry about being your pretty self and I'll deal with the rest. Does that sound like a good deal..?"

She lets out a soft giggle as her eyes finally take his own, "Yeah.. thank you for understanding.."

" 'course Bells. I'll always understand okay? Now go get some sleep.." He kisses her forehead, watching her for a moment before going over to the stairs.

"Rafe..?" Bella steps forward slightly, getting Rafe's attention as he turns back.

"Mhm?"

She stops a moment, and picks at her fingernails, "Love you." She whispers softly.

Rafe can't help but break a smile, taking in one last look at her; she stood in his top that was way too big for her, covering everything that needed to be covered.

"Love you too Bee, now go to bed!" He raises his eyebrows. Bella can't take him seriously and lets out a small giggle before nodding and going into his room.

Rafe stands there a moment; watching the door close behind her. He smiles once more before shaking his head and going back downstairs to sleep.

Next Episode Here

Short Episodes in Blue

Full Episodes in Pink

Short Masterlist

Full Masterlist

[dazedvivenne]

Hi! Please can I request an angst fic for Kit Walker being inside Briarcliff? Thank you

SORRY - KIT WALKER

Short summary: Kit has recently been commissioned to Briarcliff and you go to visit him, which goes wrong quickly.

Warnings: Choking, aggressive behaviour, mentions of murdering.

It had been weeks since you saw your fiancé, Kit Walker. He recently committed to Briarcliff after being accused of murdering his female friend and two other unnamed women.

Of course it scared you, you knew Kit could never do something like that but prior to leaving to Briarcliff he was getting more aggressive towards you.

You shrugged it off, assuming his workplace was a very dangerous and stressful place to work at. Excusing Kit’s behaviour because you loved him and never wanted him to leave you.

Weeks after the incident, you are finally able to visit Kit. Which even just thinking about it made you blush, you decided to wear something beautiful for Kit. A expense Betsy Jersy dress, it had a white collar over a red dress white white buttons on the front.

It flattered your body quite nicely. You brushed your hair and made it look big and fluffy. A little bit of makeup wouldn’t hurt, so you put it on. A typical blue eye shadow, eye liner, red lipstick, and some mascara.

Once you felt completely with your look, you put on your white church shoes and left your house, getting in your fiancé car. Driving off to Briarcliff which was a somewhat long drive.

You let your hand rest out of the rolled down window, the other hand resting on the wheel, turning the wheel whenever necessary. You foot gently pressed on the gas.

The drive there was very peaceful, but once you arrived at Briarcliff you felt this strange feeling wash over you.

You closed the car door and walked to the front doors of the building, only to be greeted by two male security guards.

“I’m here to visit my fiancé, Kit Walker.” You informed the security guards, “I spoke with Sister Jude Martin, she said I could visit during visiting hours today.” You added onto your statement.

The two security guards let you inside the building, the heavy doors slamming behind you. Which made you yelp.

You walked over to the front desk, straightening out your dress. “Where is the visitor area?” You asked politely, “I’m here to visit Kit Walker.” You said happily, not caring if the front desk lady would judge you for seeing “The Bloody Face” killer.

“His room his number 89. If he’s not there please come back to the front desk.” The lady spoke kindly, a fake smile plastered all over her face.

You nodded your head with a smile, walking past the front desk and going over to the stairs, there were so many stairs. You started walking up then until you saw the 80s numbers.

You go onto that floor, walking on the hard floor. Once you found Kit’s room, you knocked on the door with a big smile on your face.

Minutes later the door swung open, seeing Kit wearing a light blue button up, royal blue pants. His face had a couple of scratches. He still looked handsome as ever.

You watched as Kit’s face turned bright as he recognized who it was. His smile was so big his eyes shut, he left his arms open and you jumped into them.

Your legs wrapped around his torso, your arms wrapped around his neck and Kit squeezed your back out of joy.

You pulled away and kissed all over his face, his face now stained with red lipstick kisses. “I’ve missed you so much, Kit.” You whispered sadly, your hands on his shoulders as he closed his door and sat you on his bed.

Kit smiled, “I missed you more, It sucks in here.” Kit mumbled the last part, standing in front of you. Kit cupped your cheek and bent over to kiss your lips, a sloppy but passionate kiss was shared between the two of you.

You pushed Kit away gently, looking into his eyes with pure lust. You wanted so much more than just a sloppy kiss, you needed Kit inside you.

Kit sat down beside you, “I…” Kit cleared his throat, catching your attention.“I have a question… Do you think I did the killings?” Kit asked seriously, staring deeply into your eyes.

You swallowed a loud bit of air, nervously you shake your head after a couple of seconds. “No, honey. I know you could never do something like that.” You answered hesitantly.

Kit felt his eyes water, “You think I did it?” Kit asked in disbelief, his mouth slightly parted.

“No! No. That’s not what I said.” You argued, watching as Kit stood up stressfully running his hands through his hair.

Kit shook his head, “You had to think about it.” Kit mumbled, looking down at you. “I would have never thought for a second that you ever do something like murdering… but you… you believe it?” Kit barked, his sadness turning into anger.

You stood up, gently touching Kit’s back. Attempting to calm him down by rubbing it, but he just pushed your hand away. “Kit…” You spoke softly, jutting your bottom lip out.

Kit ignored you, he was angry. You seriously thought Kit could do something do heinous and sickening. “No!” Kit shouted at you, “You seriously think I could do something like that?” Kits gaze darkened.

His hands making way to your throat, softly squeezing it. “You think I could do something like this?” Kit squeezed a bit harder, grunting angrily.

Your eyes watered up, trying to breathe air but Kit aaa blocking your air way. “Kit! Stop.” You cried out, trying to push away his threatening hands.

Kit let go of your throat, slowly, not realizing what he just did. Until he saw the bruises forming on your throat. Tears started streaming down his eyes, “I’m sorry.” Kit cried.

You held onto your throat, you were scared of Kit how. He had never put his hands on you, no matter how angry he was. Now just tried killing you, it terrified you how quickly someone could change.

You ran out of Kit’s room, running down the flight of stairs. Kit following behind you, calling out your name.

It didn’t matter how sorry he was, cause it could happen again. Maybe it is just best if you left him alone for a while.

You left the building through the front doors, Kit chased after you concerned, when he tried to run out of the building he was tackled by the two body guards.

You ran to your car and got in it, watching as the guards held Kit onto the ground, Kit’s eyes watching as the car drove off.

[annaphoenix1994]

Ch.112 - The Call

Previous Chapter - Masterlist 1; Masterlist 2 - Next Chapter

Kiera receives a call from the last person she'd expect...

This is a very short chapter and I'm sorry! I may come back and add to it later, but I've been compiling many ideas to keep adding to this story so that I don't have to wait until the new game comes out in November and I'm sure you guys wouldn't want to wait until November for an update!

*

"I really don't want to leave," Kiera sighed once they stepped into the airport terminal towards the waiting area. "I had such a great time. I'm definitely glad you didn't give me any hints about the surprise!" 

"I'm glad, love. You looked stunning wearing that dress." 

"I can say the same about you, babe. You pulled off looking good in that suit. Too bad we can't stay in that era forever." 

"I'm sure it was worse than what it is now." 

Once they took their seats to wait on their next flight, Kiera crossed her legs while Simon's left hand rested on her knee, again bouncing his foot impatiently while he kept a stark eye on the entrance and exit points of the terminal. "Uh oh," Kiera giggled, breaking Simon out of his protective glance and pulling her phone from her purse. "Baler is calling me." 

"Brace yourself for a heap of trouble," Simon grumbled. "Your mum has been calling us twice a day since we've left telling us about the twins, but when that lad calls, he's either up to something or is testing the water..." 

"He might just be calling because he misses us!" She rolled her eyes after Simon shot her a glare that said the teen was lying. 

"He's a teenager. The last thing on his mind is calling his parents who are on their honeymoon just to ask how they are. He's probably sleeping in our bed, eating all of my favorite snack cakes for when I want to cheat on my diet, drinking all of your Dr. Pepper, and feeding Kimber what he doesn't eat." 

Kiera couldn't help but laugh, "I thought you were quitting eating those cakes altogether?" 

"I am... Once they're all gone. I only eat one once a week." 

"Yeah," She scoffed. "One pack! Which has two cakes in the pack!"

"I can't help there's two in the pack!" 

"I know, Simon. It's okay to have a favorite cheat food for someone as strict on yourself like you are." 

"Have to stay in shape for my job." 

"Yeah, and when you eventually deploy again," She frowned at the thought, looking down at her lap to answer her ringing phone. "Hello?" 

"Momma, when are you coming home?" 

"Depends on what you're about to tell me," Kiera replied, arching her brow and putting him on speaker. "Is everything okay?" 

"Well," Baler huffed. "Everything is fine here at home, but my ego isn't okay." 

"Bloody hell." Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

"What happened?" 

"So, Nana couldn't pick me up from school today because she was still stuck at the doctor's office, so she asked Johnny to come and pick me up..." 

"Okay? What's the problem with that?" 

"Well... He couldn't find the keys to his car at first and - you know how they've been staying at the house with me on the weekends?-"

"They have their own house to stay in!" Simon barked, startled, ignoring the breathy laugh Baler let out at his father's sudden rise of blood pressure. 

"Take me off speaker, mom... Dad's going to get mad." 

"Okay," Kiera giggled, not doing as he requested because she too was eager to see how Simon was going to react with whatever it was that Baler was about to inform them on. "Alright, you're off speaker." 

"Good. Anyway, Teeter was going to take your truck like you told her she could, but the truck needed diesel and DEF and she didn't have time to run to the store, so-"

"Don't fucking tell me they took my car." Simon muttered quietly. 

"-She gave Johnny the keys to dad's car." 

"Oh... Is that all that happened?" 

"No, being picked up in a Hellcat definitely didn't hurt my ego," Baler laughed. "It's what Johnny did when he picked me up that did." 

"What did he do?" 

"I didn't know it was him at first until I saw my name on that big ass - sorry - big ole card that's supposed to go on the dashboard and at first I got excited because I thought it was dad coming to pick me up and you were going to surprise me by coming home early, but anyway Johnny started blasting that stupid bagpipe song or whatever it was at max volume yelling "SCOTLAND FOREVER! SCOTLAND KNOWS WHAT TIME IT IS!" out the window like he's some drunk idiot and wouldn't even turn it down after I got in the car. I saw his phone too, so I know he was taking a video to probably send it to dad later to piss him off. And he was shouting something like "GIVE EM STEEL LADS!" and I'm emotionally vulnerable until you come home."

Kiera couldn't help but laugh at the imagined scenario, looking over at Simon to see his face beet red. Even though she knew he was livid, she knew he'd be laughing about it later. Especially if they were to somehow see the video from Johnny himself. 

(Author's Note: Here is the video in question to give you a full picture ;) Please giggle and enjoy it like I did because it's 100% accurate! I also couldn't find it on YouTube, so I'll have to copy the link to the video here so you can open it on TikTok or your Safari browser: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Fejgkk/

"I'm sorry, baby," Kiera giggled. "Did he at least get you home safe and sound?" 

"Yes. He didn't even scratch dad's car and I'm surprised." 

"He better be glad he didn't, lad." Simon scoffed. 

"Mom! I thought you took me off speaker!" 

"Um, I did! Simon can just hear really well!" 

"Yeah, right. When are you coming home?" 

"We're at the airport now." Simon grumbled. 

"That doesn't tell me anything." 

"Love, he's getting his attitude from you. You should do something about that." He murmured with a playful glare. 

"Maybe it's a good thing," She retorted. "We're at the airport in Manchester. We were supposed to fly home yesterday because our cruise got cancelled, so we stayed the night in a hotel and are taking the first flight back to the States. We're going to land in Nashville and stay a night before getting on another flight that takes us to Cody." 

"Okay." 

"Are you at the house or with your Nana?" 

"I'm at Nana's. It's not a far walk," He snickered.

"How're your brother and sister?" 

"They're good. Never caused any problems since you two left. I think Evie said dada at one point, but she's been quiet ever since."

"She did??" Simon questioned, his heart thudding with excitement.

"That's what Nana was sayin'. I'm just laying on the couch while she's making dinner-"

"Why don't you go and help her?" Simon scoffed. 

"Alright. Oh, hold on. Someone's knocking on the door. I'll get it, Nana!" They heard Baler exclaim from the other side of the phone. "Um... Hello?" 

"Hello," The sound of a woman replied back. "Do you know where I can find your mother?"

Kiera's brows furrowed at the conversation she and Simon were both hearing from the other side of the phone. 

"May I ask who you are?"

"Tell her that Kate from Butte came by to see her. I was in town and wanted to catch up." 

"Um... Okay, I'll tell her," Baler spoke before directing his attention to Kiera on the other side of the phone after the mysterious middle-aged woman dismissed herself from the porch and back towards her car, Baler keeping a confused eye on her from the window after he had shut and locked the door. "Momma, some lady from butt came to see you." 

"From where?" 

"Butt - you know, that town in Montana?" 

"You mean Butte?" She breathed a laugh. "I don't know anyone from Butte, honey." 

"Well, she sure knows you," Baler scoffed. "Said her name was Kate." 

Kiera's breathing halted briefly, immediately looking at Simon who shared the same expression as her. Why didn't she call me? "Okay." 

"She's still sitting in her car. Want me to take the phone to her?" 

"No, that's fine. I'll call her. Our flight is boarding now. I'll call you when I can, okay?" 

"Okay, momma. Be careful. I love you. Tell dad I said I loved him too." 

"Love you too." Simon answered, hearing him as clear as day since he was on speaker. 

He looked at Kiera with a concerned gaze, watching her end her call with Baler before finding Kate's phone number. "Put it on speaker." 

"I can't if it's classified, Simon," She sighed before reaching into her purse to pull out a pair of AirPods from their case. "Here, put one in your ear and I'll put the other in mine. Just don't say anything." 

"Okay, love."

They both heard the phone ring roughly four times before she answered, "Kiera, I see word travels fast when I come to visit." She chuckled. 

"Was it just a visit, though?" 

"I wish I could say it was," She sighed. "I had forgotten you were still on your honeymoon when I pulled up to your house and realized that you weren't home with your truck and car sitting in the driveway. Is there any way you could meet me in Jackson Hole after you get back?" 

"Why Jackson Hole? Why not meet me at the ranch?"

"With what I'm about to tell you doesn't need to be said on your ranch." 

[laniquill]

It’s been slow around here lately, not much to write about, so I thought instead I’d tell the story of how I met Eliza.

I was 17 when I decided to leave the Johto region. I told my parents that I wanted to take on the Hoenn region’s gym challenge. I never got past Whitney in Johto’s gyms, but I needed a change and I wanted to be a bit further away from my family. Once I said “gym challenge”, they were willing to support the trip. We were all lying to ourselves.

I started in Littleroot Town, as is traditional. I moved very slowly through the region from there. It wasn’t that the battles in the area were challenging; my team only consisted of Cinder (then a Quilava), Scar (Scarmory), and Bubbles (Marill) at the time, but they were more than capable of handling what the area could throw at us. I was slow because I was enjoying exploring the new region and trying to find my place in it. I took on a few odd jobs and adventures on my way, looking for something I loved and hoping whatever I found was something my family could be proud of.

After a few months of stalling in Petalburg City, I finally decided it was time to tackle Petalburg Woods. This would be our biggest challenge of the region so far, our first experience with the wilderness of Hoenn. My bags were full to bursting with potions and antidotes; I barely had enough space for food. With trepidation, we set foot into the forest.

The first few days were uneventful. I was overly cautious and avoided all battles until we’d scoped out the area some and observed from afar the wild Pokémon that lived here. About a week in and most of the way through the forest, I woke at dawn to a cacophony of rustling, growling, and screeching. Scar and Cinder, who had been sleeping outside their balls, sprung into action while I scrambled up. Scar took to the sky to get the height advantage and a better view of the situation while Cinder lit his flames and growled. I kept Bubbles in her Pokéball; there were a lot of grass types in the forest, after all.

After a few seconds of panicking, I finally saw what was going on. Some twenty feet away, a couple of Zigzagoon were fighting fiercely. I didn’t see a trainer nearby and it wasn’t really my business what wild mons get up to, but I hate seeing any Pokémon get hurt. So, I signaled Cinder to break it up. He let out a terrifying roar and on cue, Scar dive-bombed the pair, scattering them into the trees.

I was about to turn away to pack up camp and get started for the day when I saw what they’d been fighting over: an egg. I picked it up. It didn’t look like a Zigzagoon egg, but what did I know? The only Pokémon eggs I’d ever seen were the Cindaquil ones from my dad’s few times breeding his Typhlosion. (Side note: yes, Cinder is the son of my dad’s Pokémon. We both have parental issues.) It was a sort of rusty red with white speckles, though it was hard to tell under all the dirt. I almost left it behind, figuring it must be one of the Zigzagoon’s and they’d come back for it, but I changed my mind and tucked it in my bag.

Over the next several weeks, I took care of that egg the best I could. I gave it to Cinder to warm at night and the Pokémon inside really seemed to like that. The egg was a lot more active when Cinder turned up the heat a bit. From this, I was convinced it was a fire type, so boy was I surprised when a Trapinch came out of that egg seven weeks later! How did a Trapinch egg come to be in Petalburg Woods, you ask? That’s a mystery to this day. Maybe it was stolen and re-stolen from Pokémon to Pokémon until it got there through a ridiculous relay race. Maybe there’s an odd Flygon living in the forest. Most likely, some trainer just chucked it when they found themselves in possession of an unwanted egg.

However she got to me, this Trapinch was my responsibility now and I was going to take care of her. The rest, as they say, is history. Eliza and I have been together ever since!

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 7

All right! Here's part 7. I hope you enjoy. I don't think I really have any opening notes to go over this time, so I'll just leave it there. Check out the ask game I posted yesterday if you're interested.

This week you get a bit more than usual at 1.6k words.

First, Previous

----------

“What was that you meant about me being Jazz’s second dead boyfriend?”

Over his surprised laughter, he heard Jazz’s groan from across the hall. Yeah, he really did like Jason more than Johnny.

“One of my former rogues, Johnny 13, pretended to be human and started dating Jazz for a period. He was trying to mold her body into a vessel for his equally dead girlfriend Kitty. He had a similar bad-boy vibe to you but was actually awful. We might be cool now, but I’m still pissed he did that.”

Jason blinked at him before a slow grin took over his face. “So Jazz has a history of bad choices, does she? She always acts like she’s always had it together.”

“Oh definitely not. No child raised by our parents could have it always together.”

“Jazz refuses to talk about your parents, will you tell me what they did?”

Before Danny could answer, Jazz shouted his name. “Danny! If you’re done apologizing to Jason, start helping me explain!”

Danny rolled his eyes to Jason. “Later, I suppose. Duty calls! Come on, you’ve got to have a lot of questions, dead boyfriend number two, and yours will get priority answers.”

Jason’s surprised laugh made him grin despite the deepening glares of the other Waynes.

Surprisingly, it was Duke who blurted out a question in a high, freaked-out voice first. “Why do you have a crown?”

Danny, who’d turned and took all of one step in the direction of the dining hall, paused and turned back around. “How can you see that?” And then he realized the ground was still littered with broken glass and ceramics. “Never mind. Later. Let me clean up the broken glass and stuff first. Least I can do.”

Bruce’s hand landed heavy on his shoulder. “No. You will answer our questions now.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no. Look, the short of it is that I died when I was fourteen because I was stupid. It didn’t take and now I’m only half dead. I have a ghost form and a human form and all the standard ghost powers. The main ones being invisibility”—he turned invisible for a moment—“intangibility”—Bruce’s hand fell through his shoulder—“and gravity manipulation.” He raised in the air until he was floating a foot above the floor. “I also have some more unique powers, such as ice.” With a wave of his hand, ice grew around the shards of glass.

Alfred and Duke quickly backed away from the mess, but once every piece of broken china was encased, the ice stopped growing.

“So, if you’ll just tell me where I can dispose of the shards, I’ll be happy to do it. And this way no one has to be at risk of hurting themselves cleaning broken glass. Plus I got up all the fine powder, too. No little bits that can barely be seen but will fuck up your vacuum cleaner.”

“A handy skill,” said Alfred before anyone else could speak. “I will lead you to the bins.” To the rest of the group, he said, “Jason, would you and Duke collect the desserts from the kitchen and set up the dining room? As it appears we are all allies here, there is no reason to have this conversation standing in a hallway when we could have it sitting down with good food.”

“Alfred—” started Bruce.

Only to be cut off by the butler. “Master Bruce, I will be quite safe with the young man, I am sure of it. Jason’s… ghost has explained a few things already.” Only the slight pause before the word ghost betrayed that the man wasn’t entirely at ease.

Tim stepped forward. “Let me come with you both, Alfred?”

With a put upon sigh, the man agreed. “Very well, Master Tim, if you must. Mr. Danny, please follow me.”

“Yes, sir.” Danny followed obediently, the ice floating along behind him with barely a thought.

“You don’t need to make any sort of gesture to control the ice?” asked Tim.

Danny shook his head. “Nah. It’s my ice. It’ll do what I want it to. Most ghost powers are based on thought and emotion, honestly.” They took another turn. His castle didn’t even have this many hallways.

“So when you said the ghosts in Amity, you meant that literally.” Tim acted like it was a revelation.

“Of course I did. Shortly after my accident, ghosts started attacking on a regular basis. Took years for me to get things under control and by that point I’d already failed out of high school.”

“But if it was so hard… why didn’t you call the Justice League?”

Danny threw back his head and gave a hysterical laugh. “And then have to fight an overshadowed Superman? Or, worse yet, speedster? No. No thank you. Never. A representative of Justice League Dark stopped by about six or eight months after I got my powers and I told him to keep everyone out of my haunt. He gave me a phone number in case I came across something I couldn’t handle. But I kept being able to handle it, so I never used the number.”

“Overshadowed?” asked Alfred, “I do not believe we know that term. Ah, here we are.” He opened a door that led outside to a drive where a collection of garbage bins sat. “That container there”—he pointed—“is for glass recycling. Will the ice leave the bin filled with water?”

“Not at all. It’ll be completely gone.” Danny had the ice hover over the bin and made it disappear slowly enough that the shards were released without any falling outside the container. No water remained to show how he had transported them.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Danny. Now, overshadowing?” he asked as he held the door open for the boys to precede him inside.

“Oh, um. It’s like possession. Ghosts can take over a living being’s body. But when we do, we don’t have access to memories or knowledge or anything. And after the ghost leaves, the human just doesn’t remember anything from the time they were overshadowed.”

“And is this another of those basic ghost powers you have?” Tim’s voice was hard.

“Yes,” Danny answered simply. “It feels gross, though, and I’ve only done it a handful of times. Ever. First on my dad to get out of some school trouble, but I kept making things worse. After that on my friends and Jazz, with permission, so we could document limitations and if it hurt humans. Far as we could tell, it doesn’t.”

“You sound like a very conscientious young man. I have no doubt you use your powers responsibly.”

Danny laughed. “I screwed up more than a few times before I found ghost mentors. And ghosts are always a little chaotic, so some messing around is not only expected but encouraged.”

Alfred smiled. “I’m sure we will love hearing some of those stories as we get to know you and Ms. Jasmine better.”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you everything. There’s far too much and so much of it just doesn’t matter on Earth that it’d be pointless to go into.”

Danny saw Tim open his mouth to speak, but Alfred cut him off before he could. “I only want to know one thing: will Jason be all right?”

Danny smiled in relief. “Yes. That I can promise. I don’t know for sure how best to help him, but I’ve some ideas and I’ll consult with my doctors. They’re the leading experts in human-ghost biology.”

“Then I am glad you came tonight and were able to notice something was wrong. Thank you.”

With a shrug, Danny just said, “It’s literally my job. This is what I do.” Up ahead, he could see the doorway back to the dining room.

“If it’s your job, how much do we owe you?” asked Tim.

That question brought Danny up short. “Owe me? What are you talking about?”

“If you’re doing this for work,” said Tim as they entered the dining room, “Then you need to be paid somehow. If not by us, then how?”

“What are you lying about now, Danny?” asked Jazz, shaking her head at Tim’s question.

“Nothing! Tim asked why I’m planning on helping Jason and, besides the fact that he’s dating you and I’ll obviously help, I just said it’s literally my job. You heard his reaction to that!”

Bruce grunted. “Then I suppose you know where your explanations should begin. What is your job? A full explanation this time, please.”

“Right, yes, I can totally do that. I’m so great at explaining things.”

Jazz snickered at that statement and Danny poked her as he sat down next to her. Tim and Alfred took their seats as well.

“Now, Mr. Fenton.”

Danny winced at the name. “Don’t call me that. I’m not allowed that name anymore.”

“Danny, your job,” repeated Bruce, face expressionless.

“Right. Um… Well, I do just kinda do whatever is necessary or find someone who can. Because, um, well, I’m… kinda the High King of the Infinite Realms? There’s a bunch more titles after that but I refuse to memorize them because ugh.”

Danny looked down at his plate, not wanting to see everyone’s reactions. Jazz must’ve made sure he got a piece of pie because it sat in front of him. It looked so good. Did they even know about the Infinite Realms? Justice League Dark members did, but did Batman? Jazz reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

----------

Next

Looks like Danny found another excuse to delay the interrogation! (I honestly forgot about the broken glass before Duke spoke up and asked about the crown. But I did always plan to have Danny clean it up.)

Tag List: I'm getting posting errors, so I'll be splitting the tag list in two.

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks

[bitchinbarzal]

worth the wait | Q Hughes

summary: part two of again

part one

-

i never meant to hurt you

i’m really sorry, please call me back

i can’t stand you being mad at me in silence, please scream at me or something

You read through the texts Quinn had been sending for days before you replied for the first time.

i have nothing to say to you, Quinn leave me alone.

He felt defeated, he didn’t know what to do.

Quinn left it a couple days, after a talk with Elias and how much his constant messages were hurting you.

It all became more real to Quinn when he didn’t see you sitting in your usual spot at the next home game. He didn’t play well that night.

In the locker room he heard Bo asking about you to Brock.

“Yeah man she’s good, she’s in New York with Liam just now he had to get back for work” Quinn clenched his jaw, trying not to say something he’d regret.

Later that night while he lay in bed alone in the dark he sent you a text

it’s rich that you’re mad at me when you’ve run off with stupid Liam the first chance you got! hypocrite!

And he fell asleep. To only be rudely awaken the next morning by his phone buzzing next to his head. He blindly grabbed it and pressed the answer button.

“Hello?”

Hypocrite?! are you fucking serious? How dare you speak to me like that!

Quinn’s heart rate fastened and he sat up in his bed, stuttering.

“y/n! I-“

Don’t you ever, ever speak to me like that again. You fucked up Quintin no doubting it. You slept with a fan and you broke my heart — I’m not looking for an apology because we weren’t together but I never want to speak to you again.

“Please just-“

Goodbye, Quinn

and the line went dead. He sighed, staring down at his screen at the picture of you he had as your contact photo before he clutched the phone and threw it across the room.

Quinn sat in bed feeling sorry for himself for the rest of the day, a rare day off usually spent doing fun things now spent in his own pity party.

You returned to Vancouver the following week, your time avoiding responsibilities in New York with your ex were over. Liam had been great company and a way of avoiding your responsibilities but you knew you had to go home.

You’d managed to avoid most of your mutual friends, ignoring when they text and never taking up Elias’ offer for game tickets.

That was until he told you he was only one goal away from a 200 goal record therefore you had to be present.

You were sitting in your regular seat, alone with a Diet Coke in hand and popcorn too watching the pre-game you’d seen so many times.

The game got off to not such a brilliant start with the Rangers up two by intermission but Bo recovered along with Petey who finally got his 200th.

You screamed, leaping up from your chair and celebrating alongside the fans surrounding you.

The game came down to overtime, the numbers running down rapidly and right before the buzzer.

slap shot — the buzzer.

Quinn had scored the overtime winner.

You didn’t stand up to celebrate that one. Quinn, surrounded by his teammates on the ice looked to the stands and watched you walk up the stairs of your section and leave.

He wishes he could’ve ran out and caught you, to see you but he had media and would most likely be at the arena for a few more hours.

You made your way home, not before texting Elias a congratulations.

You lay on the couch, flicking through instagram and TikTok all night. Desperately trying to get your mind off Quinn.

Your plan was working until just after midnight he was stood on your door step.

You opened the door, immediately throwing it shut to only have it stopped by his right foot jammed in between the door and the frame

“I’m not taking no for an answer anymore — you’ve got to listen to me!”

You scoffed “I don’t have to do anything Quinn!” Throwing the door open, it rebounding off the wall behind.

Quinn stared you at, eyes wide and blinking slow “I- please”

His buff demeanour melted and was once again replaced by that soft, shy boy you knew.

“I love you” it all the said, you rolled your eyes

“Quinn I don’t have time for this-“

“I loved you the moment I met you and when you started dating Liam I thought I was done for but you came back to me and I had you… I was so stupid to let you go! I spent so long pining over you I think I let it get the best of me when someone gave me a little bit of attention” he voice cracked and he was almost in tears.

“I need you to forgive me, I can’t live with myself if you don’t”

His breaths were stuttered and he was close to tears.

You sighed, reaching out to grab his arm and pull him into the apartment.

You stood looking at him for a moment before you reached up, wiping a tear from his cheek “You don’t get to speak to me the way you spoke to me Quinn”

He nods “I know, I know and I’m so sorry I was angry and I shouldn’t have”

“Ok, apology accepted” You smiled lightly “I’m still hurt”

“I know! And I’m sorry, I really-“

“It’s going to take time” you interrupted and he swallowed hard waiting patiently for your next words

“But I’m willing to put in the work for this if you’re willing to wait”

Quinn almost couldn’t believe what you were saying, nodding vigorously

“Yeah, yes! I’ll wait- of course I’ll wait!”

“Good, want to come inside?”

You took his hand, leading him into the apartment and onto the couch to watch re-runs of old tv shows.

Later, you were almost asleep and Quinn had put you to bed before heading out. You were half asleep cuddled into the blankets and mumbling incoherent things to him.

Quinn kissed your forehead and said

“I’ll wait forever for you, my love”

[abibliophobiaa]

reader getting hurt and Peter being super protective and worried, thank you so much !!

it is soft saturday again! thank you for your request 🤍. fem!reader. warning: non-con touching.

Music pumped through the crowded bar. Drinks clinking at stools situated around you. All your best friends gathered around to celebrate your last few weeks as an engaged woman.

You hadn’t wanted the typical bachelorette weekend—yet your best friends insisted it was practically a rite of passage.

Go big or go home, one said, or something to that effect.

The slight buzz burning in your system dimmed those earlier conversations, thoughts only now focused on dancing and enjoying the night with your friends, despite the fact you really wanted to be curled up on the couch with Peter…watching a rom-com or something in that vein.

But you continued to move, anyway. Body one with the music as your friends crowded around you. Their voices high over the music in the packed area.

You found yourself separating from the group to head to the bar. Reached into your pocket after ordering water. Smiled at the text message from Peter which read, Have fun! I love you.

Distracted as you typed out a quick reply, you jumped when reaching for your cup and felt your fingertips brush with a man seated at the bar beside you.

You hadn’t seen him before, and imagined his intentions right off the bat weren’t innocent. Not with the curl of his lips and the lascivious way his eyes rolled over your form.

“Hey, beautiful. Mind if I buy you a drink?” He drawled.

“No. Honestly I would prefer if you didn’t—”

“How about one of those pretty smiles then.”

Icy displeasure rolled down your spine. The way his words curled around you. Your stomach twisted within you, fingers nearly slipping around your glass.

“I should really get back to my friends. Thank you for…whatever this was.”

The rest of the night resumed as planned. Your friends moving around you, shouting the lyrics to ‘Dancing Queen’ as it pumped into the bar.

It was perfect. The whole evening perfect. You kept telling yourself that as you later made your way to the bathroom to fix up your appearance in the mirror. Your friends had taken to finally ordering some food, whereas you were honestly ready to head home for the night.

You rolled your ring on your finger. The solitaire diamond glinted up at you. It still shocked you to think in a short while you would be married to the love of your life. Something you’d dreamed about since you were a little girl…now a reality.

Smiling to yourself, with the image of Peter formed in your mind, you exited the bathroom and found the man from earlier standing there against the wall. His jean clad form had kicked one foot out, so you’d have to climb over it to head back toward your friends. His arms crossed against his chest as he moved to push himself apart from the surface. Your back collided with the wall, heart hammering wildly in your chest.

To anyone else, what with his face shrouding you from the eyes of onlookers, it might look like the two of you were caught in an intimate moment. Yet your mind screamed at you to run over and over again until it echoed noisily in your ears in tandem with your heavy breathing.

“I saw the way you were looking at me, baby. Why don’t we get out of here?”

You grunted as his fingers curled at one of your hips. Pinned you further against the wall. Could smell the alcohol on his breath. The hard stubble of his cheek. The firmness of his form against your own.

Two things happened then: one, you brought your knee up between his thighs. And two, your right hand swung out and punched him square in the cheek once his form jackknifed in front of you. His howling drew the attention of the bar to the hallway, his angered shouts racketing above the music.

“You bitch!”

Turning on the heel, you rushed down the hallway. Heard the gasped cries of your friends as they realized what had just occurred.

One of which pulled your hand into your own as you exited the premises of the building and said, “Holy hell, have you been training with Spider-Man or something?”

“Something like that.”

…

The apartment was quiet upon entering. The only sounds coming from the TV playing in your living room.

Wincing as you stretched your already purpling fist, you reached into the freezer as quietly as possible, so as to not draw the attention of your soon-to-be husband, and muffled your moan of pain as you pressed the ice pack to your skin.

“You’re home early,” Peter called from the other room. “Do you mind grabbing me a popsicle.”

You nearly gasped again as a sharp pain stabbed at your hand. Spread through you like a brand.

Gritted your teeth instead and muttered out, “Sure, babe.”

You reached in and plucked the frozen treat for him with your left hand, drawing his attention right away toward the ice resting against your knuckles as you shadowed the doorway.

“What happened?” He asked. Though it sounded sorrowful around the edges.

“Nothing. I fell.”

“I know when you’re lying.”

You frowned. “Pete, I’m okay. I don’t want to talk about it.”

You turned to leave the room just as a fluid-like webbing curled around your unharmed wrist. There was a quick tug and you were pulled into Peter’s lap. His arms coming to wrap around you as they enveloped you in an embrace.

You couldn’t help the first sob which spilled from you. And didn’t even fight the second one—only leaned against Peter’s face as he whispered sweet nothings against your ears, hands rubbing up and down your spine. Soft brushes of kisses into your temple. Your cheek. Your hair.

His attention shifted to your hand as you lifted it dejectedly before him. Earned a sharp gasp as he pulled the ice pack away and took in the mottled skin there. Bruises were already darkening around the bones. Each one a sibling to the one before it. A reminder of the smell of whiskey in your ears and stubble on your skin.

Not Peter. Peter was kind. Gentle. Loving. Careless. Giving. He would do anything and everything for the people he loved. These simple truths rested in your aching chest as he took your hand in his own and inspected it.

“It hurts,” you admitted weakly.

His finger brushed along the skin. You felt your head spin momentarily at the contact against battered flesh. Like chills spilling down your whole form.

“I know, pretty girl. Good news, though: I don’t think your hand is broken. Bad news…it’ll be a few weeks before they heal.”

Not broken. Good.

“Would it help if I said the other guy probably looks worse?” You laugh at the end of your statement in disbelief.

His eyes locked with yours. Those dark eyes growing soft around the edges. “What happened?”

You curled your left hand around his cheek. His face leaned into your palm. “That’s your favorite question today, huh?”

“I’m serious.”

And he is. The concerned furrow of his brow has you shifting in his lap to get more comfortable. Winced as Peter pressed the ice back into your knuckles.

“Just some handsy asshole at the bar tonight. He…sort of crowded me near the bathroom and pushed me into a wall. Asked if I wanted to leave with him.”

Peter’s eyes darkened. You could feel the form beneath you as it tensed. The way his own fists curled, as if he were ready to attack the man himself like he were standing in the room with the two of you that very moment. At the very least, was likely imagining it.

“So I did what you taught me.”

Peter had insisted he taught you some semblance of self defense in the years you had been dating. You understood a lot of his drive in doing so was due in part to watching his beloved Gwen fall to her death at a very young age.

Understood that there could be people who might one day find out his identity and potentially put you at risk. So he’d wanted you prepared.

Had taught you enough basic maneuvers to get out of various situations you might—but would hopefully never—find yourself in. This night with that man at the bar being one of them.

“I kneed him and then punched him right in the face. Just like you trained me.”

He moved to look at your hand once more. Trailed those spidery fingers along the parts of your fist which weren’t turning various shades of purple and black. Heard the sharp inhalation of his breath.

“Hey…hey, Pete, what’s going on?” You cooed, pressing your forehead into his cheek.

“You’re hurt. I wasn’t there and you’re hurt.”

“No, you weren’t. But you won’t always be with me every second of everyday—no matter how much I’m sure we’d both love that. And you prepared me for a situation like this. You’re a hero, Peter Parker, but you’ve taught me I can be my own hero too.”

His head lifted. Those eyes brimming with tears as he took you in. Knew, somewhere deep within yourself, he was reminding himself of the guilt he’d felt over Gwen. Thoughts of what he might have done differently; if anything would have changed the course of things.

You leaned across the space between you and kissed him. Tried to remind him you were very much real. Alive. Okay. Loved. Lifted his palm with your own and pressed it over the curve of your breast. Right over the beating of your heart.

“Look. I’m right here. I’m okay.”

He glanced down at where his flesh met your own. Face still wrought with fear and devastation. Guilt. You gave his hand another squeeze.

“Look at me, Peter Parker.” His eyes met yours. “I’m fine. I love you. We are okay.”

He kissed you once more. A slow, sweet aching brand against your flesh. His own reminder that you were here. Seated on his lap. Flesh and blood and breath in your lungs.

Safe with him…where you were always meant to be. His own safe haven from the outside world. A constant, as steady as the beat of his own heart. An assuredness like the rising of the sun each day.

His home.

…

A few weeks later, on your honeymoon, you woke to Peter playing with your hair. Your cheek had been pressed against his chest. Now healed right hand resting over his abdomen. You winced at the soreness of your muscles as you shifted beside him, leveling your gaze with his before pressing a kiss into his shoulder.

“What are you thinking?” You asked, smirking.

“What makes you think I’m thinking?”

“You have that look on your face. Plus your eyes get all distant. Like you’re here but also not.”

He chuckled. “Was thinking about our last training session.”

Peter had insisted upon more self defense. You allowed him that security in doing so, though every muscle in your body ached as of late. But it was a concession you felt worth making to ease his mind.

“Oh yeah? That was the one where—”

You were cut off at the end of your sentence by lips pressing against your own. The world tilted momentarily on its axis as Peter maneuvered you onto your back.

Fingers pushed the hem of your sleep shirt up as he peppered your skin with his mouth. Sighed as your fingers curled into his rumpled hair. Engagement ring and wedding band now glinting stark against those dark locks.

“You’re amused by this,” you laughed out at the love bite Peter graced upon your hip bone before lifting himself so his face hovered above your own.

“I’m just admiring the image of my wife defending herself.”

“I could show you a move or two.”

The roaming of his hands between the two of you stilled. The still unfamiliar chill of his wedding band settling over your thigh which had curled around his hip in his ministrations.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mhmm. I have the best teacher, after all.”

He smirked, gaze darkening. “Care to give a demonstration for the class then?”

[aerysamultifandom]

𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

Plot: Something bad happened to you, and the one who dared to hurt you will pay (sequel to "Who to choose")

Type: angst/fluff

Warning: mention of rape/ cursed words

Characters:The Targaryen Family, Ser Criston, Ser Harwin and some secondary characters.

Numbers of words: 3.4K

The first few weeks after this great event, everything went well, no one suspected your relationship with the three men, that’s what you thought, but Otto Hightower’s spies are discreet and it is impossible for you to notice them. This is what brought us to this fateful event, it will forever be engraved in your mind, like a shadow that will follow you all your life. Otto Hightower felt it was up to him to punish you, and he will, in the worst way. When the king’s hand asked to see you, at the beginning of this afternoon, you accepted the light heart, you had always understood well enough with the older man, only, you soon regretted it, hardly had you set foot in the man’s office that you took a slap. " You whore! If your father knew what you were doing, he’d send you back right now!" Otto Hightower’s angry voice sounded in your ears. what was going on? you didn’t understand. Otto gave you a cold look as he got closer to you, you backed away until you were locked against the door.

┊

The man got closer to you and you could smell his foul smell, which caused you to wrinkle your nose." You’re just a whore" he spoke in a freezing voice, "and do you know what we do with people like you? We fuck them." You trembled with fear when you understood what he was saying. The rest must not be told, everything was in pain for you don’t know how long, but finally, you went out of his clutches when he unleashed you, your spirit was off, the bottom of your dress was a blood-red color as you staggered in the corridors. Several times, you had to stop against the walls, to catch your breath but you didn’t realize what had just happened to you, everything was only pain before you collapsed on the ground, the pain was too strong, but for once, this darkness was reassuring. She protected you from the outside world, you didn’t move, waiting for something to happen. Why you? Was it a crime to love? You didn’t know about it, but the events that had just happened revolved around your head, everything around you was just blurry. You don’t know how long you stayed there, but it was footsteps that brought you back.

┊

"By the Seven! Princess y/n what happened to you?" The panicked voice of a handmaiden sounded near your ears, you quickly felt the handmaiden’s arms around you as she supported you so that you could stand, you walked for a few meters before you winced in pain. "I- I- stop." You leaned against the wall, before raising your eyes to your servant "Go get my father, go get my uncle" you said in a supplicant voice but your servant seemed uncomfortable "I can’t leave you alone while you are hurt, my lady." You shook your head and looked at her with a dark look "that’s an order. Go ahead" The poor Servant could not refuse to obey when she was leaving as quickly as she could, running through the corridors, calling your father "King Viserys! King Viserys!" Even if she was away from you, you could still hear her voice and you rested your head against the wall, a little smile on your lips, help was coming.

┊

The servant entered the council room, calling your father in a broken voice "My king! You must come!" King Viserys frowned, why would a servant interrupt such an important meeting to ask him to come? " Why do I have to come? What is it?" Although he did not like being interrupted, he knew that the servant would not have interrupted the meeting without a good reason to do so. It is your daughter, the princess y/n, something happens to her, she suffers too much to come here" the face of the king became white, something had happened to her nightingale, her daughter. He suddenly rose "This council is over! We will resume the meeting later," he spoke quickly as he followed the servant, practically running behind her as she led him to you. When your father saw you, his heart broke, you were pale, you had too much blood on your dress, you were in no way 'the light of the seven kingdoms' as the royal court affectionately called you. When you heard them coming, you opened your eyes "Father…" you called him in a soft voice as he leaned towards you to hug you. " Go get a maester, and be quick," he spoke as he laid his head on yours, rocking you against him.

┊

It wasn’t long before the servant returned with a maester, your father helped you get up to guide you to your room. Once there, you took a bath while your father was chatting with the maester outside your room. Despite all the soap you applied to your skin, rubbed on your skin, you felt dirty. You come out of your bath to dry out and change your dress before allowing the maester to come inside your room, in the company of your servant so that he can examine you. He quickly decreed that you were not ill, and that he knew why you were so pale and why your dress was in such a state. "I’m sorry princess." The master spoke by taking your hands in his. You could see he had pity for you "Do you want me to tell your father?" you shook your head, you had now understood what had happened to you and that made you want to cry, but you will not cry, not in front of him. I would tell him." He nodded his head as he came out of the room. You then turned to your servant "May I ask you a favor?" you spoke in a weak voice. " Of course my lady, whatever you desire, I would do anything to get it." She spoke to you in a soft voice, gently shaking your hand in hers. Get Ser Criston, Ser Harwin and my uncle here as quickly as possible and don’t tell my father anything" she nodded "Well, my lady"She quickly came out of your room, pretending that you said you wanted to rest.

┊

So three servants were sent to warn the three men that you were asking for them by your side, without telling them why. Daemon was flying over his dragon when the servant arrived, and, as soon as he had a foot on the ground, the servant rushed to him, warning him that you were demanding his presence as soon as possible. It did not take more for your uncle to understand the urgency of the situation and he hurried to ride to join you. Ser Harwin was training with the others, and he was told the same news and panic that Daemon had felt took hold of him and he stopped his training to join you as quickly as possible, what happened to you? Finally, Ser Criston was in the company of your sister, coming back from a horse ride he had made with your sister, and the look of panic of the servant worried not only the knight but also your sister. In months of time not to say it, the three were at your door, worried that they had all three been asking. It almost never happened, and when you did, it was never a good sign.

┊

When they decided to enter your room, they found you shaking down your bed, eyes filled with tears. They knew right away that something was wrong while slowly Ser Harwin approached you and knelt at your level. he came to put his hand on your shoulder, which caused you to raise your head towards him, you hardly realized that you came to hug him forcefully, which surprised Ser Harwin, he hugged you in return throwing a panicked look at the other two men who had sat down to each side of him, In the hope of helping him comfort you. They had never seen you in such a panic since you told them how you felt about them. Ser Criston came to rub your back gently "Princess, it’s passing, why are you so freaked out?" He spoke to you softly, paying attention to his words. You whispered something against Ser Harwin’s chest that the other two men did not understand. Daemon finally spoke in a soft voice "We didn’t understand, little light" he explained gently as he approached you.

┊

"Am I a whore?" you spoke louder even if your voice remained calm. The three men frowned, but the jaw of Daemon tightened as Ser Criston looked at you with sad eyes. Why do you ask that?" you gently asked Ser Harwin by raising your head with his hand, your eyes were again filled with tears as you spoke with a trembling voice "He told me that I was one, that people like me only deserved to be fucked" Finally, the tears started to flow again as you snuggled up against Ser Harwin. Daemon, Ser Harwin and Ser Criston hated seeing you like that, seeing you cry like that, you were so sweet that you didn’t deserve the words that had been spoken against you. And who told you that?" Daemon spoke once again, his voice dangerously low, you did not answer while you were huddling more against Ser Harwin, it was clear that they would not get more answers that evening. In view of your state of distress, it was obvious that the three remained by your side for the night and that’s what they did. Ser Criston took you in his arms to lie down in your bed where the three men came to lie down against you, except Ser Criston who had to continue to watch over your sister because it was his duty.

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The six months that followed were dark for you, because of the events that had happened to you, you had locked yourself in silence, to the greatest distress of your family and your lovers. You also had many nightmares during these long months and often your lovers had to comfort you, but one day, which was similar to others, you decided that you had had enough, you were tired of living with this constant fear. So you came to your father one evening, as night was falling, you finally had the courage to tell him everything, to tell him what had happened, six months earlier. When you knocked on the door of your father’s chambers, he came to open you quickly and offered you a sweet smile as he invited you in. To what do I owe the pleasure of this nocturnal visit," my dear daughter, he spoke nicely to you as you sat on his bed. I need to talk to you, I think you remember the afternoon you found me hurt? " He shook his head, he understood immediately why you had come to see him.

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you sighed, nervously playing with your hands. " I think it’s time you knew what happened to me this afternoon" you explained while your father was silent, so you continued "Otto Hightower, he called me in his chambers, pretending he wanted to see me. That’s what I did, I went to his chambers with a light heart, but, once I entered the room, he slapped me. he insulted me, telling me I was a whore. Then…he…he raped me." You had trouble saying the end of your sentence, and you looked up at your father who seemed shocked, sad and horrified. He seemed to have understood the actions of his close friend, his advisor, the person who was supporting him. Your father’s jaw was tightening as he thought of everything he could put this monster through. He tried however to calm down so as not to frighten you more "You are very brave to have told me, my daughter. I promise you this bat will pay." He said gently, taking your hands in his. "Did you tell your uncle?" He asked you gently, even if you didn’t tell him about your romantic relationship, he had noticed that you and your uncle were very close, but he didn’t mind, he knew that his brother was able to protect you.

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"Daemon knows nothing of all this" you admitted in a calm voice. "Tell him, tell him what Otto Hightower did to you, also warn him that he will be able to handle it as he wants" you shake your head, for once for six months, your heart was at peace and it did you good." Go now my daughter. Daemon must wait for you", he said with a smile, you got up before leaving your father’s room. You practically ran through the corridors to your room, you knew Daemon would be waiting for you and he gave you a big smile when he saw you. When you got to him, you took him by the hand before you let him into your room, the door was just closing when you made him sit on your bed. I have to tell you something Daemon" you said to him in a soft voice, then you repeated to him everything you said to your father and the look of Daemon caught on fire, Otto had chosen to hurt one of the little ones of the dragon and he was going to get hurt, that’s for sure. But not until he reassure you, not until he show you that you’re all but a whore

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"This man is wrong, you’re not a whore, you’re an angel." He whispered to you as he approached you and came to kiss you gently, pressing his lips against yours, his wools coming to hold your hips to get closer to him. Her lips left your mouth to come and kiss your neck "You are an angel, y/n, a beauty that fell from the sky" you let slip a sigh as the man continued to lay kisses on your neck. You suddenly felt a gentle warmth that you hadn’t felt for some time, but it was welcome. I don’t think I need to go any further than that and let the night have its secrets. The only thing you need to know is that he gave you back your confidence, and drove out of your mind the words that Otto had told you.

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The next day, while you were still sleeping, Daemon came out of your room and was surprised to see Ser Criston and Ser Harwin in the hallway. "you wanted to see us?" asked Ser Criston in a calm voice, it was rare for Daemon to want to speak for himself to the other two men that he considered to be inferior. However, he never showed it to you and tried to be friendly with the other two men, even if Ser Criston and Ser Harwin were not fooled although they did not complain. "Yes, however, I think it’s best that we go somewhere else so I can tell you what happened y/n" Daemon explained in a calm voice as the two men frowned, nodding their heads before following the prince as he led them into an empty room. Daemon closed the door behind him, before turning to the two men, inviting them to sit on the ground and he did the same. "What happened to y/n, told us" Ser Harwin spoke in an impatient voice, even though the three men were very protective of you, he must have been the one who was most worried about you.

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"I think you know who Otto Hightower is, but you don’t know what he did to y/n, he raped her." As soon as Daemon had said these words, the two men were standing, rushing to the door, certainly to go and see Otto Hightower and to pay him a visit that would be the last of his life. Tsss, you two are acting like idiots!" Whistling Daemon in a desperate voice as he went to join the other two men and stood between them and the door. "You can’t just show up at his room and cut off his head!" he said in an angry voice." Moreover our head will end on a spike if the king learns that we wanted to attack his advisor" added Ser Criston in a desperate voice. "You’ve got it all wrong, the king has agreed to this, well, that’s what he told his daughter, our y/n" explained Daemon. "So what are we waiting for?" said Ser Harwin with a angry voice, "he must pay!" Ser Criston added quickly. "I promise you that tonight he will not survive," Daemon said in a firm voice.

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As night fell, Otto Hightower returned to his room after leaving the king for the night. But the man had no idea what he was going to find in his room that night, nor did he know that it would be the last time he would see the moon rise in the starry sky. As he lit the candles in his room, he realized that he was no longer alone, three men were present and he palmed. He knew his men, they were lovers of the woman to whom he had harmed, his eyes rounded with fear but he tried to keep an indifferent voice. "Do you have the king’s permission to enter my chambers this way?" he said calmly as he continued to light the different candles. The king allowed us to do what we wanted with you, after you hurt y/n" Daemon spoke in a freezing voice. From that moment on, Otto knew that he would not survive, but he did not fear death, at least that is what he showed men before him before he breathed his last breath. It was Daemon who carried the final blow, it was he who put an end to the terrors you had known.

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Despite the fact thatthey taked the life of a man, Daemon, Ser Criston and Ser Harwin hurried to join you, they returned to your room slowly. You were already asleep for a few hours when the three men climbed into your new bed, a gift from your father so that you could sleep all four together. Quite often, you found yourself trapped between the three bodies of your lovers but it amused you, you felt protected. So when you felt hands on your hips, you opened your eyes, it was so late, what were they doing? You growled and tried to turn to the other side, but you found yourself facing Ser Criston’s chest. You end up sitting half-awake "it’s too late for hugs, sorry, can I sleep now?" You whined, you wanted your pillow and no one else for now. Ser Criston let out a little laugh "I promise you you can go back to sleep but we have to tell you something before" you nodded quickly "tell me". This time, this was Harwin who came behind you, raising your head with his hand "He’s dead" he whispered you gently before coming to kiss you.

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After the death of Otto Hightower, only his daughter mourned him. All the other inhabitants of the Red Keep had learned what he had done and were happy to know he was dead. A few months later, you married Daemon, Ser Harwin and Ser Criston, and all of you moved to Dragonstone where you were the most devoted wife the three men could have had. In the first years after the marriage, you gave life to a little boy, who was called Viserys, and the following year Jacarys was born. You gave them two more children, Aegon and Joeffrey before you fell seriously ill, and despite the care of the maesters, you died on a beautiful summer night, surrounded by your husbands and your children, all promised to help your sister if she claimed the trone. When you died suddenly, many came to greet their princess one last time. The light of the kingdom did not shine and would never shine again, however, you continued to watch over your children and you were very sad when your nephew, your sister’s son joined you after being dead because of Vhagar. After what seemed like centuries, your husbands finally joined you and your reunion was the happiest.

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Thanks you so much ! I hope that you enjoyed reading this ! have a good day and if you want to be added to the taglist,tell me. The first Marvel work will be publish on Wendesday. Also, it was the last work about House of the Dragon of the year 2022.

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