#and then imagine the onslaught of guilt

[padfootastic]

i just remembered that canonically, sirius got to godrics hollow after hagrid.

which means that after he had his godson taken away from him (bc lbr that’s exactly what hagrid and dumbledore’s orders basically did) then he went into the house and saw james and lily’s dead bodies alone. no buffer in the form of harry crying out for his parents or even the godfatherly instinct of making sure his kid is alright.

he was there, with his brother and friend’s cooking body, all alone. stewing in grief and pain and rage and guilt. ALONE.

do we even know how long he was there? for all we know, he could’ve been catatonic right there besides james all day.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

He's my collar

Synopsis: You were saved by your ex-mentor, then Batman saved you from him. Even with your habilities It seems like you will never stop being a damsel in distress. Don't worry though, you are just a puppy who just got adopted by the best caretaker ever. And he knows what you need even better than yourself.

Pairing: Yandere!Batman X Villain turned hero!Gn!AFAB!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: 18+; Dubcon between Yan!Bruce X Gn!Reader; Reader has a pussy and an uterus; Grooming?!; Reader is inexperienced and a virgin; Reader is a people pleaser; age gap (Reader is 21 and Bruce is on his 40’s); fingering!reader receiving; mentions of sexu4l harr4sment, s3xual 4ssault and pedoph1lia (nothing happens, reader was just afraid of being a victim growing up); Bruce is very touchy and Reader doesn't know how to feel about that; power imbalance; Reader has intense daddy and trust issues, intrusive thoughts and a rough background; mentions of family loss; fluff, suggestive and angst; manipulation and guilt tripping; platonic!batfamily are happy, Damian loves you and no one knows Bruce is a yandere for you, but they are kinda weirded out by the age gap; English is not my first language.

Word count: 8,5k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: that's how I’m picturing villain!reader suit and that's the vigilant suit. Also It was really hard to find cool names for reader’s villain ex-mentor and reader’s villain and hero persona, but you can imagine whatever suit and name you want

General masterlist | He's My Collar - Series masterlist

You were 11 when your deadbeat father handed you over to Overkill to appease the criminal’s anger. That day, you lost your birth name and became Onslaught.

When you joined him you were afraid your fate would be to become his sex slave, it wouldn't be absurd to think he wanted to use you like that since the last time you saw your father, when he was on his knees, crying for his life to be spared, he cried an offer that your mentor accepted: my kid! Take my kid! They already bleed! Check their underwear! They're already grown, take them and do whatever you want to them! Don't even have to bring them back, take them with you if you want! They can clean and cook and will do whatever you want, I swear! they will keep quiet! I won't tell anyone!

Tsk. Pathetic old man.

Later he told you he only took you in because cruelty against kids was the only line he refused to cross and hated who committed It. He said you were better off with him If your own father made a strange and violent man an offer of such disgusting nature.

Overkill never touched you the way your father expected. If 99% of the time he didn't treat you like a minion, and 1% as his ward, you could even love him. He definitely was your second (shitty) father figure.

Instead, he did make you cook and clean, but only when you weren't training and studying to be his sidekick. He was a villain-for-hire. Sketchy civilians, crime bosses, supervillains and corrupt politicians would hire you both to do the stealing, killing and terrorizing. When you became his, it meant he could get more jobs while working less and earning more. He got 99% of the money and you would get 1%. Literally. If he was in a good mood, felt you deserved a treat or one of the clients showed a liking to you, he gave you more, never more than his own part though.

It was just one more way to keep the leash of the puppy attached to him. Keep you dependent. He also used psychological methods for that, you knew that now.

When you were a kid, before he became your mentor, like every normal child, you developed an obsession. Some liked dinosaurs. Some liked princesses. Some liked insects. You liked wolves. You used to spend hours imagining yourself being one of them. Running through the woods with a pack that would accept, love and protect you. Your cries for help, the night that your father beat your mom to her grave and was close to doing the same to you, were howls to the moon. Calling for help. Calling for someone. But the only one who could hear your frequency was him.

Your savior. Your keeper. The alpha of your little two member pack.

When you were 21 your whole life changed for the second time. Batman caught Overkill, cut off his claws, put a muzzle on him and left him in Belle Reve.

He was merciful to you though, he was a hero after all, and he investigated your history. He gave you options: 1-Live a civilian and lawful life. 2-Learn his ways and become a vigilant by his side, saving lives and all that shit that made heros panties wet. 3-Keep the lifestyle of a criminal and next time he saw Onslaught in action he would break your legs and put you in a cage right next to your packleader's.

You chose the second option.

And that was how Onslaught was dead and Silverclaw was born.

Batman set you up in one of his safehouses, helped get a new identity and you were to patrol the city with him every night. You thought because you were an adult he would leave you on your own when It came to education and a job, he didn't. He insisted on giving you money until you found a common daytime job.

— Are you doing that to make sure I’m not gonna try to monetize from saving people? — You looked at him suspiciously, searching for a facial reaction that could give him away. None came. Dude was really stoic.

— No.

— You are trying to control me then. — You crossed your arms, being mindful of your new claws.

— I’m trying to help you. — Batman stared at you a lot. If you didn't know better you would think he was a statue in the middle of your new living room from how still he was. You huffed. — You can trust me…

— Can I, really? Can you trust me? — You challenged him, half stepping forward and learning slightly in his direction while touching the bat in his chest with the tip of your claw. He didn't react.

— You will show me.

You chose not to respond and resumed your previous actions of looking around your new home. You pretended to just be touring curiously but the man knew you were searching for cameras or bugs he could use to secretly monitor you. Or just have a peepshow.

— You always do this to the rest of your bats? — He didn't answer. — Maybe not all, I imagine Red Hood wouldn't like it. You don't mind that he is a crime lord right? Or is that the reason you are always fighting?! — He still didn't answer. — Wow, Geez, you never shut up, you know?! Let other people talk. Uh, sorry, I shouldn't be talking like that with my new boss, right?

— I'm not your boss.

— Babysitter then?

— Mentor… Until you can work on your own… — You roll your eyes. So much for admitting he didn't trust you yet. Well, you didn't either.

After three months he changed your suit to have a bat brand on your left shoulder, you were an official member of his team, and gave you access to the batcave. You always saw him, some of the others and his butler coming and going from the elevator, but never tried It, even If he never out loud forbade you from doing it. You noticed they were all very close and didn't feel like you belonged among them, so you didn't need to know where that elevator took you, even If you were often in the cave.

On the 5th month you passed out from an injury after saving Robin. Two-face flipped the coin and his bullet was aiming straight to Robin’s head but he was so small that when you ran in front of him it hit your abdomen. You woke up four hours later in the cave and Batman took his mask off and thanked you for saving his son. That night you found out all of their identities and that the elevator took you to Wayne Manor. Damian, Alfred, Bruce, Tim and Dick (who showed up to thank you as soon as he heard what you prevented from happening with his baby brother) all insisted that you spent the night in one of the guest rooms due to your recent injury.

It took a week of you trying to leave until you managed to. Everyone always found a way to convince you to stay. They were nice and It felt like a warm welcome into their group.

— Damian looks up to you. — Bruce calmly stated after stopping in front of you one day, a month after your recovery was complete and you were out and about at night again. After watching you sparing with Robin for an hour and a half, the opened case was officially forgotten on his ‘batcomputer’ behind him.

— Yeah, I can really feel him putting all his love on his tiny fists when he hits me and leave me bruised and sore for days. — You comment nonchalantly while taking a sip of water and glancing at the kid running towards the elevator. Your mentor snorted.

— He wants you to see him as someone on your level or above. To know that he is reliable and you can call for him when you need help. He did the same with everyone here. Chalenged them, I mean. — You open your mouth to respond but freeze and your arm instintively moves on its own to grip his wrist when he tries to touch your shoulder.

You both stare a each other frozen and in silence for a few seconds before you snap out of it and let go of his wrist.

— My bad.

His hand is still in the air and he slowly retreats It to his side while still analizing you.

— Are you scared of me? — You shake your head hurriedly.

— It was instinct. — You leave It at that.

You both spend a few moments just staring the other down until he clears his throat and step back.

— I’m on a case. You need to work on your detective skills more. Are you free now or are you going to your nest? — You felt deeply grateful for his change of subject and agreed.

You went to grab another seat but his long legs beat you to It, rolled the chair in the direction of the computer and gentlemanly gestured for you to seat down, pushing the chair forward to accommodate you when your tights touched the padding. You raised your eyebrows wearily after the whole interaction but didn't react more than that while he situated himself on his ‘batseat’ beside you.

After a few minutes you unconsciously relaxed your muscles and your conversation went on for hours. You were delightened by how easy It was to talk to him, the first time It didn't feel like an interaction between you that wasn't strictly mentor and apprentice, instead, It felt more like a friend giving you tips and you sucked up on all the knowledge and attention he provided you. He seemed in a good mood and even gave you his signature small smile and praised you a few times when you got something right.

At some point Alfred came down to provide you both with tea and snacks, he seemed to pause for a second while his eyes flew from you to Bruce, who was behind you since you turned around to acknouledge his entrance, covering most of his emotions towards the sight. He semeed kinda… Intrigued. Maybe surprised or awkward. You hacked your brain trying to understand but he turned around and left, Bruce was pushing your cup into your hands before you came to any conclusion.

— You like tea? — He questioned and the contrast between this question and the gory case you were discussing seconds before amused you.

— Uhh, I guess? — You brought the cup closer to your lips, copying his actions as he did the same while looking at you casually. — I like more coffee though, and Overkill was a coffee enthusiast so we drank a lot.— You scrunched your nose at the fleeting memory of your old mentor and the weird reminder that he had a human personality behind his usual strict behavior.

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly for a second before the expression vanished. He never held back when it came to showing contempt towards anyone from his team’s past who was associated with crime.

— Were you close to him? — Suddenly he seemed more serious. You wondered if you were misreading the mood this whole time or were just doing it right now.

— Hmm… Not really… It's complicated… - You took another sip.

— I’m listening. — He seemed sincere. Apparently you were having a break from work.

— He wasn't all bad, I mean, he saved me, but… He still kept me around for all business… — Part of you felt like grieving for some reason. — I guess I ended up seeing him as as father figure, or I wanted to, but… — Bruce held himself not to tense. For the first time since the work talk stopped he took his eyes off of your face and looked at his cup. — He just… He knew how to keep his distance while still keeping me by his side 24/7. — He looked at you again, with a more neutral semblance than before. — At leash until I turned 18. He changed when I turned 18. — Bruce furrowed his eyebrows with concern. It was still odd to know someone cared about you.

— How so?

You cleared your throat. It was the first time you thought about the past since becoming a lonely wolf, or rather, you thought you were a lonely wolf, that changed when you realized you now had friends. Thinking about the past was pointless when you barely had something to be nostalgic about. You only had memories you desperately wanted to forget.

— Well… You know how his only weak spot are kids. When I hit 18, I stopped being a kid for him. I was finally too old to commit mistakes. I think he saw me as a possible threat and wanted to prevent me from becoming one by proving how much power he had over me. He was a boss for me just as much as any goom beneath him.

Bruce nodded thoughtfully. You didn't say more, afraid of delving too much on something you avoided to think about until your darkest nights.

Suddenly you felt your whole body tense when you felt his warm and big hand rest just above your knee and squeeze. You fixed your gaze on his hand but didn't move more than that. It felt strange, you weren't used to gentle touches and maybe there was something more, you Just didn't now what yet. It got worse when he kept his palm there and went further, rolling his thumb in circles around your clothed knee. The thick sweatpants fabric kept the barrier of intimacy up albeit the heat radiating off of him somehow challenged it. How can someone be so warm? You envied people who where always warm like that. You hated feeling cold — one of the reasons why you liked your suit so much.

— I’m sorry about that… — His voice mande your eyes snap to his again, he had a sincere expression. It was off putting and seemed out of character since he was always stoic, at least around you.

You bite your lip in a display of nervousness that escaped your usually well conceived emotions. Your heart beat faster when for a fleeting second he looked at your mouth and just as fast he was fixed on your eyes again. You didn't think the action had any hidden meaning, nor was it intentional, still, you felt the the need to run and hide.

— … Sure… — You moved to cross your legs, silently prompting him to finally take his hand off after lingering for too long. You looked back to the computer, determined to ignore what just happened and reflect on what it meant later. You missed his displeasement.

Bruce never expected himself to feel attracted to you. As he got older, the age range of the people he felt attracted to accompanied his age. He kept to himself and willed it away at first, but you were so… You.

You tried acting cold, kinda like him. But you needed him and strays always caught his attention. Unlike his kids he had a hunch that you wouldn't flourish by being independent and left on your own. You needed a keeper.

At first he felt like a creep every time your body caught his attention or he found himself staring at you for longer than intended. He was hyperaware everytime you two were close, wich usually was when sparring.

Bruce thought that taking you in as his protegee would satiate his need to take care of you and have you close, but after months of paying your bills and mentoring you, he realized his feelings for you were not platonic.

And it seemed like he was not the only one.

He knew the rest of the family noticed his “fleeting�� touches that would linger on your shoulder, arms, back and knee. He retracted himself every time you showed clear disfomfort though, but you never outright rejected him.

His theory of his family's knowledge of his interest in you was confirmed one night when Nightwing stopped by to borrow some equipment and witnessed Batman closer than necessary to Silverclaw, while taking too much to inspect — with his eyes and his hands — your gloves that you were wearing and apparently had recently been upgraded.

— Hey, guys! — Dick’s hesitacion towards the scene grew but kept hidden when you both looked up at him surprised. Somehow he caught you both off guard even if the elevator was not that silent. Dick noted that Silverclaw seemed slightly wide-eyed, the only feature in your suit that was left exposed, along with your eyebrows, while Bruce, who wasn't wearing the cow, maintained a neutral expression, like he didn't have anything to hide. You both greeted him when surprise subsided and you took a step back from Bruce, like you just realized your proximity.

— Hmm… I should get going… Gonna meet Red Robin on the docks in a few. — Both men acknowledged your presence again and Dick saw your awkwardness, his parent seemed fine though.

Bruce nodded to you and you suddenly felt like a sidekick who had just gotten permission from Overkill to do something you were supposed to be doing with or without his approval, but needed to make sure your superior thought it to be appropriate for the mission. A soldier reporting to their captain. Like you never actually took a step forward and everything was the same. It made you feel small and hollow. Gave a bad taste to your mouth. It didn't feel good. But you ignored it because it was all in your head.

Before you could move, the oldest hand shot to your waist and squeezed briefly the soft flesh there as best as he could with the armor in the way. You felt your blood freeze and shivered.

— Be careful. We don't know what Killer Croc is doing there. And take care of Red Robin, he only had 10 hours of sleep in the last three days. — You meekly and wordlessly nodded and robotically left on your bike while feeling a pair of eyes scrutinizing your every move.

Dick cleared his throat, finally catching the Dark Knight’s attention for good.

— Dick. Do you need something? — Bruce turned to his work table and started tinkering with what apparently he was doing before you interrupted him earlier.

— I mean, just came to take a spare mask, I think the camera lenses on mine broke. But since I’m already here… — The younger alonged the last word while hopping to his father’s side. — B, can I talk to you about something? Don't be mad. — That made Bruce worried. Dick cringed at his own wording and the older male turned to him and crossed his arms.

— What happened? — Bruce demanded in a Batman’s voice.

— Nothing! Nothing. Sorry, my bad. What I meant was… Are you sure that's what you want? — At his dad’s confused furrowed eyebrows the hero explained. — (Y/N). I mean… They’re quite young, you know?! It's a lot of responsibility... I don't think they've ever dated anyone, even if they're between Jason and Tim’s age and Tim’s a whore… Too much of a slut for his own age, actually- Not the point. It's just, everyone noticed and have been commenting about it, but I don't think they noticed already. — Nightwing leaves it at that, hoping that his father understands what he was trying to say, desperately trying not to have to explain more and feel like he is teaching his own father the ‘puberty will make your body change’ and the ‘birds and bees’ talk, or ‘bats and wolves’ talk, in this case.

Bruce blinked.

— Are you trying to give me the sex talk? — And there goes all his hard work. — And stop swearing. — Dick groans and runs his hand through his face.

— Nooo, why do you make everything so difficult? It’s just… First of all, we trust you okay? It just feels weird when you start flirting with them, especially for the ones that live here. I mean, me and Jason still have nightmares and get the creeps when we remember the time when you used to date Selina. And Damian almost pukes every time Talia tries to rizz you up again. — Dick is careful to dance around the subject of your more than two decades age gap. — And, like I said, I don't think (Y/N) has much experience either. Maybe they don’t know what you're doing. Just… Go slow, okay?!

Bruce holds a huff for the sake of being stoic.

He already envisioned the possibility of you having none or little experience before, and you haven't done anything that told him otherwise yet. Deep down he is kinda… Turned on knowing he could be your first everything. Teach you just how he likes. Be the only one to ever know what you like. He's also happy that, by the way his son said it, it looks like everyone thinks you are both closer than you really are. More intimate, romantic. He and you are the only ones who know that you never had a conversation about the change in your dynamic, limits, future and general status. He thinks you are conflicted, and this conversation only encouraged him to either lay down the cards for you or catch you off guard and put you against the wall. Metaphorically.

And maybe literally.

He's also not going to think too deep in the warm feeling he feels when thinking about corrupting an innocent puppy who isn't even aware of his intentions.

A sheep in wolf's clothing.

— I know all about that, Dick. Don't worry, I'm being mindful of their timing.

— You should move to the manor.

Bruce's blurted out sentence caught you so off guard you choked on your rich people's food. You knew he was simmering something in his mind the whole morning.

He recently got you to work as his assistant in Wayne Enterprises. You felt he either pitied you for having been forced to drop school when you were 11 you couldn't find many options that allowed you to live a comfortable life — in the standards of an old money billionaire at least —, and your lack of education wasn't a problem to be solved fast. You just didn't know he wanted a solid excuse to be your sole provider forever and wanted you close to him all the time.

He also liked how you looked in formal attire. Developed a fantasy of bending you over the table and taking you from behind. Making you suck him off under the table. Then get on his knees and reciprocate the favor. Became obsessed with the sight of the first buttons of your shirt open, exposing your neck and collarbone. Was hooked on how it made your chest look. Was bent on making you lean forward to give him a flash of what's under your shirt.

He was never this perverted for anyone his whole life. You must be special.

The Wayne was unbothered with your choking while people on the other tables glanced your way, he simply chose to pat you on the back — and not take his hand off when you felt better, you still didn't know how to feel about the touchy nature he adopted when with you. He never hurt you, but was it really… Appropriate?

He is your mentor. He is a lot older. Your inner child cried for him to take you in as one more of his children, heal your daddy issues.

Another part of you, on the other hand, thought of you to be too old for him to simply claim you as his child — he took in his children who were close to your age when they were kids —. That part also told you you were undeserving of love, that everyone just wanted to take advantage of you, and that authority figures should shove it up their asses.

Your intrusive thoughts remarked that if he really wanted you sexually — obviously romantically was not an option. All you are is an object. —, well, he is very attractive. And even If you decide that you don't want him that way… You should just take It. He is above you. It's just how hierarchy works. He protects you. He takes care of you. You should be grateful and stay on his good side.

You internally shake your head. No. That's not how it works.

You took a sip of water.

— What are you talking about? Why? — You look at him, trying to understands where this is coming from. Sure, living alone was kinda lonely, but freeing, you didn't feel like you needed to seek anyone's approval or permission when you were alone. Besides, you were barely on your nest now that he got you this job anyway. And Damian seemed to like running off and sleeping in your place when he and Bruce were having their disaccords.

— Well, for one, it would give me peace of mind, it's safer with us. It would also make It easier for you, you wouldn't have to drive home alone at 3 a.m after patrols. — You raised an eyebrow at his current list of reasons. The 1st might be right. But the 2nd was like saying you were a civilian walking home after your shift at your civilian job. Not a vigilant, ex-criminal with 10 years of experience in hand-to-hand combat, maneuvering of weapons, who rides a motorcycle to a toptech safehouse while carrying a bat-utility belt and stainless steel claws. You kept your mouth shut when he seemed to have more reasons. — Damian would love to have you closer, the others too, but you know you are his second favorite. — Your heart felt warm at that. After learning the reason for the puppy’s bites, you couldn't help but see a bit of yourself in him, since you had similar backgrounds. You tried to subtly give him a safe space so he wouldn't turn out to be like you. You didn't want that for anyone. Especially a kid. — And also… I want you closer.

You took a deep breath while nodding slowly and trying not to react. Looks like it's time to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Suddenly his hand on your back felt heavier and burning hot.

— Why? — Your tone and steely expression made it clear you demanded a clear and honest answer from him. One he didn't hesitate to give you.

Faking a confused expression, he tilted his head slightly to the side.

— What do you mean why? I want you (Y/N). — Your blood froze. — I think it's been very clear that I’m in love with you. — You felt like you received a punch to the gut. — I… Thought you felt the same… — No, he didn't.

You didn't know what to say.

Bruce slowly retracted his hand away from you, but you stopped him midair by grabbing it. He knew it was time to take the next step.

You didn't even know why you did that. Do you feel the same for him?

— I… I… — Your mouth was opening and closing like a fish. He nodded understandably.

— It’s okay. You need time to think. My offer still stands. Even if you don't feel the same… I Just care about you above anything, okay? — You reluctantly nodded, staring at him almost dumbfounded. He smiled lightly to show he was still in good spirits.

After a moment of pondering he bit his lower lip, took his hand closer to your face and caressed your cheek, eyes stuck on his face, mesmerized. You were surprised someone as generous and rightful as him could look at you like that. Admirating you like you weren't tainted.

He even gave you a choice! And told you he cared about you! No matter if you feel the same!

He would certainly be a good man to love.

— Say ‘thank you’ to (Y/N), Damian.

— TT. Thank you, (L/N). — The little green-eyed puppy was looking from you to his present repeatedly. Months prior, when Batman first took you in, before you even had the bat insignia on your shoulder, you caught Robin sitting on a roof reading Death Note on his phone. You didn't know what it was and he pretended to be annoyed with your interruption while explaining it. Now, he is completing 14 and you bought him the whole set of volumes. You wanted him to know that you paid attention and cared about him. You wished someone did that when you were his age. Overkill didn't want to hear about wolves or about the cool new things you were seeing for the first time on your trips together.

You smiled.

— You’re welcome, pups. — Damian let out a ‘TT’ again and turned around to run to his friend Jon. You could almost see their wagging tails while they excitedly talked about his present. Bruce's hand running in circles in the small of your back snapped you out of it and you straightened your posture from the bent position you took to talk to the little one.

It was two weeks prior that he asked you to live with them. You accepted and moved a week ago. It was slightly disappointing to know you wouldn't gain a father out of him, but a least his confession made it easier to understand your feelings. You haven’t outright told him that you wanted him like a man, you were testing things out. In the end, you were both adults and at some point you had to learn to trust someone. When looking at Damian you knew you didn't want your whole life to be defined by the abuses of two men. And when you agreed to his offer he seemed to see it as a consent to up his seduction.

His touch was still strange. You learned to like the feel of it, and you were getting used to it, soon It wouldn't be so foreign. You just started realizing how touchstarved you were and were just starting to crave it. Initiating it was still a distant concept, though, you had a — strongly equivocate — hunch that he wouldn't like it, that you would do something wrong in the simplest attempt of hugging him, holding his hand or touching his arm, that your touch wouldn't feel as delicate and tingly as his was, and you would make a fool of yourself. At least when you patted Ace, Titus, Alfred the cat and Batcow they seemed happy.

The others seemed to take well to seeing your interaction together — you didn't know they already knew where this was going way before yourself —. Sure, Jason called him a cradle robber but the ex-Robin always found an excuse to offend him. Everyone laughed at his comment, Dick and Alfred lightly reprimanded him (the former way more amused the latter). Bruce didn't react. You felt rotten. And when Jason later said something like “now Bruce, go play with your puppy and let us handle things” during a briefing, you knew it wasn't an offense — at least, not towards you. Plus, he called you a puppy before to tease you even if you were a year younger than him. — but it stuck in your head and you took the first opportunity to escape Batman’s hand on your tight and lock yourself in a bathroom to take a breath.

— I will transfer the money to your account. — Your head snapped towards Bruce and you exclaimed a genuine and loud ‘What?’, but everyone around you was also being way too loud for anyone to pay attention to you. Bruce hummed. — The set. It must’ve been expensive, I will give you the money back. — You shook your head.

— No, Bruce, It was a present. — Just the idea of it was absurd. What an odd man.

— Well, not to me, right?! So I can do It. — You scoffed at his logic. — Actually you could have told me before you were buying it and I would have given you my card. — He blinked. — That reminds me… — He took your hand and gently guided you out of the living room where the party was situated. No one batted an eye.

Damian had scoffed at the childish idea of a birthday party, but you could see right through him better than anyone.

You looked around confused as he guided you through the corridors and then up the stairs. The loud voices getting distant made the rest of the mansion feel eerily empty.

— Where are we going? — He glanced back at you and then ahead again, before briefly squeezing your hand.

— To my study. I have something for you there.

His response didn't satisfy all your curiosity but you knew he wouldn't give you more than that.

When you got there he opened the door for you and encouraged you to enter first with a hand on your lower back, then he shut the door closed and guided you to stand in front of his table. He walked around, opened a cabinet, took ou an envelope and came back to your side. The older male extended the envelope at you, who took it with suspicion after a moment of hesitation.

You forced yourself to not look up while you analyzed the envelope and opened it, ignoring both of his warm and gigantic hands that he positioned on your waist and squeezed — he liked squeezing you a lot, you noticed. — while he lightly reclined himself to sit on top of the table, in front of you, most of his weight being distributed to his long and meaty legs that were also on each side of you. He even pulled you closer and even if there was still space between your bodies, you were close enough to feel his heat.

You looked at the content inside the paper and froze. Such reaction could have come either from the sight of a black card with your name on it or because he chose that moment to sneak his hands under your shirt and caress your bare waist slowly with his calloused fingertips.

— No. — You slapped the card and paper against his chest. The bastard didn't react.

— Yes.

— No!

— Yes.

— I can't take it! — You kicked the ground stubbornly. He still didn't move, stubbornly.

— Why not? — You raised both eyebrows.

— Bruce, are you kidding me? That thing is limitless.

— Your point being? — You blinked several times.

— Wow… I knew you were one of those rich eccentric guys, but putting on a batsuit… — You refused to call it a costume and imply that you also wore a costume and were technically a furry. You learned that word from Tim. — … And beating up criminals is one thing. Going around distributing limitless cards to all your friends is simply insane! — One side of his mouth tilted up in what you quietly admitted was a sexy smark.

— Actually if I wanted to do that I could. But you are not a friend. You are part of the family. And my girlfriend. — And mine. His tongue craved to utter.

That easily silenced you. You didn't know how to react to that. You hacked your brain for any moment were you told him something in that connotation. You didn't find it. But well, couldn't blame the guy, he did told you he wanted you and you didn't stop his moves.

You cleared your throat, trying to hide your shock. He didn't seem surprised by your reaction.

It was another thing that being with them changed in you. You don't control your emotions 24/7 anymore, only when you are out and about as Silverclaw. In the past it was second nature, but feeling happiness was so new to you that you weren't used to trying to hide it yet. Nor wanted to. And you slowly gave yourself permission to be free and express most of what you felt. Not everything, you were still surrounded by a very odd-cryptic-strategizing-hyperanalyser-micro-expressions-reader-and-weird-with-emotions group of people. But you felt no one was really going to judge you if you chose to be free.

— I-I… Yeah… Yeah, okay. You are right. — You meekly accepted his statement. If he said it was true, then it was true. You would follow his lead. You are way too loyal and he knows that. You both wondered what was your limit. You were afraid of what would happen when that limit came. Would you just keep going just to make him happy? He hoped you did.

Actually, he might test some of those limits right now.

He carefully took the card and envelope from your hand and set it on the table behind him, you just rested your palms against his chest. Baby steps for you. Bruce wished that baby was a speedster.

You stuttered when he brought you closer, leaned forward and started tracing a random path of kisses on the skin of your neck. You allowed his sucking and laping of your skin for a few minutes and even tried running your fingers through the hair on the back of his head. His hands started roaming.

When his right squeezed the left cheek of your ass though, you gave a slight jump. It felt very sudden and activated your fight or flight instinct.

— W-We should go back downstairs. — You blurted out. Bruce just hummed in response, the vibration tickling your neck and ear. Aside from that he didn't stop his ministrations and that made you feel worse. Maybe you were the problem? Were you not clear enough? Shouldn't you endure more? For you? For him? He was used to people going a lot further with him, and here you were, trying to force him to stop just when he tried to spice things up with you. For fuck’s sake, you haven't even kissed him yet!

You bit your lip and willed your muscles to relax. Maybe all you need to do is endure a little bit more and you will get used to it. Until now that seemed to be the pattern.

Ignoring your pounding heart, you closed your eyes and just tried to enjoy it. You thought it was working until suddenly he stopped, and before you could open your eyes, stole a kiss from you.

It didn't grow to more than a half-second peck because your instincts to run took over your body and you jumped away from him, your hands extended in front of your body like you were dealing with a wild animal.

You just stared at each other with almost wide eyes for a few seconds, before the older male sighed, looked down and pressed the bridge of his nose with his pointer and thumb. Oh no. He wasn't happy. You shouldn't have done that. You fucked up.

— I’m sorry. — Bruce looked stressed when he rubbed his hand around his face, then brought it up to push his perfectly styled hair back. You shook your head like a scared kid. He finally looked up at you. — I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done that.

— No, no, it’s okay, I… Liked it. — You almost whispered in a meek voice. — Was just surprised. — Bruce nodded. He was unhappy with himself that he got carried away and almost fucked things up with you. But his infatuation made him lose train of thought sometimes. Yes. He wants to do bad things to you, corrupt you, desperately. But he doesn't want you trying to run away from him just yet, if ever.

You slowly made your way towards him again, your arms around your body, trying to bring yourself comfort. You wanted him to hug you and comfort you the same way, but you didn't know if he would do that, and if he did touch you again, would it really make you feel better?

It felt wrong. You just now had asked for him to stop completely, or at least give you a break, and he blatantly ignored it. Made you feel invisible, insignifcant, desperate enough to run. And here you were, seeking for a signal that he wouldn't give up on you just yet.

— Did… Did you know I never had a birthday party? — You forced yourself not to vacillate and put your hands on his shoulders.

— Hmm? — He gazed at you curiously but didn't touch you yet. It made you feel anxious and you forced yourself to take another step closer. Now you were just as close as you were before.

— I never had a birthday party. And last time I was invited to one I was 10. I didn't get to go though, it was my best friend's party, but my father was in a bad mood, so my mom said it was better not to do anything that could set him off. So I stayed home. — You felt his fingertips caressing tracing both of your tights carefully, it could almost be an unconscious move by how intensely concentrated he seemed with your story. — Next day, at school, everyone was talking about how fun, cool and amazing it was. I felt jealous and said I would have the best birthday party ever when I hit 11. I didn't. And no one remembered my promise. — He nodded slowly, his eyebrows furrowed with what was probably sympathy at you and anger at you father. At least that's how you felt. Sad for the younger you and hatred towards your father. — If you could… — You elongated your sentence, trying to hint your request for him, and he cut you off just like you wanted, expressing what was on his mind.

— What's your favorite cake flavor?

The gala ended just about an hour ago but you were both already in bed. Domesticity came easy when living together and even when you had your own room — much to his dismay. — Bruce quickly worked on getting you used to him enough to lay down beside him. And right now he was very grateful that you didn't have socials or else his plans for the night would’ve been interrupted by your discomfort about being called ‘Bruce Wayne’s controversially young new sweetheart’ and comments about his playboy mask.

He was getting impatient but Bruce knew that all good things come slowly, he took the night off to focus only on his goal.

You were laid down on your bed, in your own room and he was beside you, facing you, while you both talked, held hands and occasionally exchanged chaste kisses. It was cute, and innocent, but his balls had been blue since the party three weeks ago.

It was fine when his right hand let go of your left, his arm being thrown around your waist to accommodate the position, and placed on your middle. He kept running his hand around your upper body slowly and you swayed closer to him. At this point the only sounds in the room came from kisses and the friction of skin against fabric.

When Bruce angled himself and pushed in your direction until he was on top of you, It was still okay. What made you startled and nervous was when he pressed his hips down and you felt his hard cock against your thigh — the back of your mind screamed about how big he was and how it wouldn't fit when the time comes.

— Hmm… Bruce? — You felt a little antsy, but you thought he would understand what you were trying to say. Didn't seem like the case, since he kept kissing you to silence you. You felt suffocated and that prompted you to push his chest weekly. Maybe you needed to give a clearer signal.

Bruce stared at you from above for a second before closing his eyes and sighing.

His reaction shocked you and you didn't move when he got off and plopped down beside you again, this time putting more distance between your bodies and facing the ceiling. He draped his arm over his face and took a deep breath.

You sheepishly tilted to your side and went closer to him, his possible annoyance towards you made you more reluctant to touch him, but you did it anyway, trying to appease him.

— Bruce…

— What is it? — He finally looked at you. He was not happy. — You don't trust me yet? — His furrowed brows, grave voice and held back tone intimidated you slightly, it just caused more worry.

— N-No, it's not that… — Bruce thought it was better to turn down a notch on his acting if he wanted to have his way with you tonight.

He nodded, relaxed his muscles and turned his body in your direction again. He draped his arm around your waist and started trailing slow kisses down your neck to calm you down.

— I know. I know, puppy. — He uttered carefully and nodded reassuringly. — It's not your fault. I'm just a little… Frustrated, is all. — Your brows cinched.

— Frustrated with… Me? — Your heart ached at the thought. It was hard hearing him, and just as hard saying it out loud. Bruce shook his head.

— I just don't understand. I’ve been taking care of you for so long, been waiting for you, doing so much for you. But it's like you are still guarding yourself from me… I love you, pup, you are everything to me and I desire you. Wanna make you feel good. But, sometimes, you make me feel like… Like you don't feel the same… — You heart fell and you felt an urge to fix your mistakes.

— But I-I do! I just… — A sigh and then a deep breath. — … How can I do better? — You said meekly.

Bruce held back a smirk, you were smart even if insecure, and preening would give off his lewd plotting.

The dark knight pretended to contemplate for a brief moment as if he didn't plan every step beforehand.

— … We don't have to go all the way now, you could just… You could let me finger you? — Half of you felt relieved, the other, the one that just wanted to keep him happy, felt nervous but determined.

Your inexperienced and people pleaser mind couldn't comprehend how him doing things to you could also be considered him taking advantage of you. That was one of your biggest nightmares and paranoia. Growing up you were always afraid that your ex-mentor would assault you, or allow one of his employers and colleagues to hurt you just because they asked or paid for some fun with the young pretty thing. Especially after you weren't underage anymore, since he only seemed to have a soft spot for them. It somehow, thankfully, never happened, only impure comments were made and he cut them off every time until you were 18, after that you were left on your own and if you didn't do anything he saw it as you wanting it to happen since he trained you more than enough to protect yourself and show authority with others that were not him.

If Bruce wanted to pleasure you and not himself… Then he was really selfless and only wanted to help you with your little problem. He's been taking such good care of you for so long, there’s no reason to believe he won't do the same now.

So you nodded, shaken.

You let him maneuver you how he wanted and ended up the same way your making out session started, you on your back and the older man facing your direction. You watched closely and willing your heart to stop pounding as he undressed your legs and hips from your pants and underwear. It was awkward feeling so exposed, especially when he sneaked his arm between your legs and started fondling your dry center.

— Relax… Deep breaths… Just close your eyes and enjoy it… — His grave and husky voice whispers in your ear before teeth start nibbling on it, your whole body shivered and you did as he instructed, not sure if it was working until his friction felt less burning and waves of pleasure started rolling through you. You were right, he always wanted what's good for you, you reassured yourself and felt a little comforted, even if your heart was still pounding.

You let out a surprised gasp and your eyes shot open when you heard a loud wet squelch, the first thing you saw thing you saw were the movements of his wrist, the second, his face, eyes dead set on observing you, and he chuckled at your reaction.

— See? No reason to worry… — And worry you did not. You knew this short period of nervousness and those guilty feelings you were experiencing would be worth it in the future. And Bruce knew the risks he took and manipulation were proving their value right now.

He changes his up and down movements to circles and you let out a sound that you never heard coming out of your own mouth. Your eyes fluttered close automatically and your hand shot to grip his shirt with an unconscious amount of force.

— I-I like this better… — Bruce hummed and resumed working his mouth from your ear, to neck and collarbone.

His hand moves were slow and deliberate, but stable. The older man angles his body in an upper position so he could easily use his left hand to pull your shirt up slowly until your chest and pouting nipples were exposed. Lost in arousal and pleasure and thrusting he knew what he was doing you didn't bat an eye towards his actions.

You moaned louder when you felt his soft chapped lips close around your nipple and wet warm tongue playing with the sensitive bud. Bruce felt your lower lips getting wetter and used that to his advantage to intrude the squelching hole between your legs with his fingers curved upwards, his thumb expertly still running circles around your clit.

You gasped and both your hands shot to grab the bed comforter under you. It was the first time someone touched you like that and it was a while since you played with your bud yourself, so before you knew it, your pussy was squeezing and milking his fingers in the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had and this time the man couldn’t stop his grin from taking over his face.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation

[assriels]

here i go again

pairing: cassian x reader x azriel

summary: your half of the bond snaps and you’re faced with a choice.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: more of cass’s inner monologue speckled with az and reader’s thoughts as well, some brief mentions of sexual content!, angst angst angst

a/n: i truly was not planning on writing a part two but the love that everyone has shown me on the first part has inspired me :’) ty everyone for making my first fic posting so memorable; ALSO because i’m a sucker for happy endings, i will be writing an alternate ending for this story that is not as angsty i promise

(banners by @/cafekitsune!)

part one

When the bond first snapped, Cassian had initially tried to continue on as normal, engaging in his usual banter and friendly affection that your relationship ordinarily dictated. But as the days stretched into weeks and then months, he wasn’t sure he could keep a lid on his emotions for any longer.

Six months, normally a small blip of time in a near-immortal’s life, felt like an eternity. Six months of picking up the scraps of his broken heart was torture of the purest kind. Six months of clinging to every ounce of affection you offered him, playing it over and over in his mind to placate the urges the mating bond so desperately wanted satisfied.

Occasionally, he’d gently tug on that golden string tethering him to you, but he’d be met with an endless, empty void; the bond hadn’t snapped for you. And maybe it never would, Cassian caught himself thinking more times than he’d like. Maybe your love for Azriel was so powerful it overshadowed anything that the mating bond could offer you.

Azriel was your chosen mate and maybe no Cauldron-born matchmaking could override your unyielding loyalty and dedication to the male you spent the last twelve years loving.

Maybe Cassian was destined for loneliness in perpetuity, forced to watch his mate – the one person he loved more than life itself – live in immortality with someone who was not him.

The night of Starfall, Cassian had taken your advice and met Feyre’s friend, a beautiful high fae female who had become a regular at Feyre’s studio. They’d hit it off that night, and eventually spent the night tangled beneath the sheets of Cassian’s massive bed.

And while Cassian couldn’t deny the charming allure and beauty of this female, she wasn’t you. He wanted her, absolutely he did, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t slept with others in the past while his heart belonged truly to you. But it was like the mating bond had imprisoned his desire, reserving it for the one person who could satiate it.

He couldn’t even finish that night, and an ugly mix of humiliation, guilt, and disappointment swirled in his gut for the next few days, even as his one time lover graciously accepted his onslaught of apologies and assured him it was alright, that it happens, that she wasn’t offended. Through it all the bond was screaming at him.

Wrong, wrong, this was all wrong.

Cassian quickly disposed of the notion that he could just ignore the bond after that night. If sex and distraction were going to do nothing to keep his desperate need for you at bay, Cassian was forced to find alternative means for managing this newfound revelation.

And so, despite the brief moments of hope the snapping of the mating bond sparked in him, Cassian resolved to continue his journey of getting over you. Admittedly, though, it was becoming increasingly more difficult, as if the bond was becoming impatient and was spurring him to make bolder and bolder moves towards you.

But Cassian was nothing if not respectful and he couldn’t ever imagine telling you of the bond and forcing your hand to choose between him and his brother. So, he slowly titrated his daily dosage of you, gradually spending less time with and around you in an effort to relieve himself of the aching pain of his longing. He was mindful of his words and actions, not wanting to clue you in to the raging conflict between his mind and his heart; he disguised his purposeful avoidance of you with excuses that he had suddenly become overwhelmingly busy.

It was a tactic he knew wouldn’t last for long, but it might give him enough time to figure out what he should do next.

But ever the keen observer – having picked up a thing or two from spending so much time with the Spymaster of the Night Court – you noticed the change, however slight, in Cassian’s behavior. At first, you had fallen for his ploy; with newborn fatherhood forcing Rhys to be partially out of commission, it made sense that Azriel and Cassian had been busier than usual.

As Nyx grew, however, and both Feyre and Rhys were more adjusted to life with a child, Rhys had resumed his usual duties – but Cassian was still busy as ever.

It only took one passing comment from Azriel for you to begin perseverating on the idea that maybe Cassian was avoiding you. Az had confided in you once about Cassian’s constant denial of his invitations to spend some time together despite the arsenal of ideas that Azriel threw at him.

Drinks at Rita’s? No... A flight around Velaris? No. Lunch with Rhys? No. Training? No.

Azriel lamented that every conversation ended with Cassian hastily making an excuse to exit; it wasn’t like him, and it was beginning to get concerning.

So, you decided to test the theory yourself.

It was a lot more difficult getting Cassian alone than you thought it would be, which was strange in and of itself. Your past with him had lent itself to many occasions where you’d find yourself alone with Cassian on an errand, training, eating meals. But lately, it was like Cassian was a ghost, disappearing as soon as you had your sights on him, seemingly vanishing out of existence before you could even mutter a greeting. It seemed like everywhere you were, Cassian had pressing business elsewhere.

(Once you had walked into the kitchen, and Cassian had left in the middle of making himself a meal, mumbling something about Rhys needing his help, his half cut vegetables abandoned on the counter.)

You had every intention of cornering him with Azriel’s help, but before you could execute your sneaky plan to ambush him during training, you quite literally bumped into him on your way from the library to the dining room; clearly, he hadn’t anticipated that you’d interrupt your usual perusal of the House’s libraries to make yourself a snack.

Cassian fumbled for words, flustered and taken aback at the suddenness of your presence, still unused to the heightened feeling of his emotions around you.

You were about to interrupt his awkward stumbling, but a feeling so visceral, so outrageously all-consuming flooded every nerve in your body and you felt like you would collapse onto the floor. It was like the world had suddenly decided to start spinning in the other direction, scrambling your sensibilities, and the only thing tethering you to your reality was a thin golden string that led you directly to Cassian.

Cassian was your mate? And by the feel of it, the bond had already snapped for him who knows how long ago. Why did he not say anything? How long had he known? What the fuck?

The questions repeated themselves incessantly in your mind before you had the wherewithal to erect the strongest mental shields you could as you made flimsy excuses for why you needed to leave. Funny how, as soon as you had the opportunity to speak to Cassian alone, you were the one spinning white lies to explain your sudden departure.

If Cassian had felt your awareness on his side of the bond, he didn’t let on, only stared bemused after your retreating figure.

You wound through the maze of hallways in the House with such precision that you had to have set a record for how quickly you made your way from the dining room to Azriel’s study; you hadn’t even meant to go there, body habitually routing its way to your lover in moments of distress.

Azriel.

Your heart twisted painfully at the thought of him, and you contemplated not telling him or Cassian that you had felt a bond whip into place. But you knew that would be a disservice to all parties involved in this sadistic twist of events.

You would talk to Cassian, have a discussion, figure out what this meant for your friendship and his and Azriel’s brotherhood, but you needed to collect yourself and unscramble the tangled web of thoughts knotted in your mind before you did any of that. You needed to talk to Azriel.

You stood outside his study with your forehead pressed to the door, not yet having the courage to open it.

In the past twelve years you’d been in a relationship with the Shadowsinger, you had many conversations exploring the what if’s of your future. The notion of the mating bond snapping between you and someone else – or him and someone else – had been something you both considered. Neither of you were naive enough to assume that it would be as simple as just choosing each other – what with the intensity of the mating bond – but neither of you really thought that it would happen either, often just assuming that it would snap between the two of you in due time.

You had been so incredibly enamored with each other since the day you met; everything had fallen so beautifully into place that it had been easy to throw all caution to the wind and fall helplessly in love. Mating bond be damned.

You knew that if a bond had snapped between you and anyone else, the choice would be simple. You and Azriel prepared for something like this — the swirling lines of complementary ink on both of your torsos had been proof of that — but never did either of you consider that it would involve the one other person that you both loved almost as much as you loved each other.

You had a long history with Cassian, and though nothing romantic had ever occurred between you, somehow the choice was now infinitely more impossible. It wasn’t difficult to admit that you loved Cassian, you knew him and cherished him for as long as you could remember. But could you love him in the way that the mating bond demanded? Could you love him in the way that he deserved?

Those were questions that you couldn’t answer, too confused as you contemplated the implications of your mate being someone you loved in an entirely different way than you loved Azriel.

So you opened the door to Azriel’s study, seeking safety and refuge with the one person who could help you make sense of this impossible predicament.

One look at you standing in the doorway told Azriel all he needed to know. The time he prayed would never come was finally here. The knit of your eyebrows and the quiver in your lip shattered his usually calm countenance as he tried to ignore the overwhelming feeling of dark uncertainty settling in his chest.

The sad, resigned smile that he gave you as he sat at his desk made tears well up in your eyes. You felt guilty and confused and so, so horrible, wondering what must be running through his mind as he looked at you, understanding intuitively that you had found your mate.

And that it wasn’t him.

You wanted to soothe the fears that were so clearly written all over his face, but you couldn’t find the words, afraid that if you opened your mouth nothing but nonsensical blubbering would come out. But you needed to say something, to explain the overly complicated cocktail of emotions roiling in your gut.

However, before you could even begin to string together a coherent sentence, he crossed the room in three long strides, resting his palm against your cheek as his thumb ran a soothing path back and forth across your skin. Azriel leaned down to kiss away the tears that had escaped before pulling your head into his chest.

The comforting warmth of the body you knew so well worked wonders on your nerves, your mind already clearing itself enough to tame some of the turmoil that had overtaken your consciousness. You allowed yourself to focus only on the feel of the strong planes of his body against yours, losing yourself in the luxury of his embrace.

“It’s Cassian,” you said after a few long minutes.

Though your words were muffled into the fabric of his shirt, Azriel had heard them loud and clear. He almost laughed at the sheer atrocity of it all; how could the Cauldron be so spiteful? You — the greatest love he’s ever known — and Cassian — his brother in all but blood — were mates.

He felt as though the Mother had taken Truthteller and carved a path through his chest, leaving him to piece together the vestiges of his heart after she had stolen you from it. But he wouldn’t let himself fall apart, not when you were so clearly in need of his unwavering stability.

“Does he know?” Azriel cursed the way his voice betrayed him; it sounded so small as it broke over each syllable of his question.

You tightened your arms around his waist, anchoring yourself to the steady thrum of his familiar heartbeat, “Sort of. It’s snapped for him, but I don’t think he’s realized that I know yet.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and somber. Neither of you said anything, only holding each other as a gentle breeze wafted through Azriel’s open windows. You wondered again what must have been going through his mind, wondered if he was as scared and sad and torn as you were. By the way his fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as his hand ran up and down the length of your spine, you concluded that he was.

Azriel wanted to stay like this forever, savor the moments before either of you had to make a decision. Infinite possibilities raced through his mind, and his heart warred with itself.

He loved you — gods, did he love you — but he also loved Cassian. Knew that Cassian was an honorable male, had a suspicion for years that Cassian loved you the same way that he did. But even then, Azriel wanted to be selfish. Wanted to beg you to choose him because if you didn’t he wasn’t sure what would happen to him.

You had been his lifeline since the day he met you; he didn’t think it was possible to love and be loved the way you had shown him, and he greedily didn’t want to live a life without it.

But he loved you so fiercely that your happiness was paramount, your decision to choose for yourself was of utmost importance and, arguably, was the only thing that mattered in this moment. Azriel couldn’t help but think, though, that you deserved the love and connection of a mate, deserved the love he’d seen blossom beautifully between Rhys and Feyre, and if that meant you’d leave him, then he was glad it would be for Cassian.

“I don’t know what to do,” came your small, rasped confession. You pulled your head away from his chest to look up at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears, “Tell me what to do, Az.”

He gave you that sad smile again (and you quickly decided you hated that you were the cause of this forlorn look of his), his scarred hand coming up to tame the wisps of hair that had clung to your forehead, “I can’t, love.”

After a beat he added, “I think you should tell him, though. Soon. He deserves to know, and you both deserve the chance to…talk about it.”

You knew what he was dancing around saying, knew that he meant he would let you go if you decided that you wanted this mateship with Cassian rather than what you had with him. That it was all in your hands, and entirely your decision. Your heart twisted painfully as you were confronted with the bottomless depth of Azriel’s love for you; he would sacrifice his love and happiness for yours without contest.

“Az…”

“You have me,” he started again, his hazel eyes burning into yours with such unwavering loving conviction you were glad his arms were around you to keep your knees from buckling. “No matter what you choose, you have me. Mating bond or not, I’m yours. If you want to see where things go with Cassian, you should. I’d wait for you…even if you decided you’d never come back to me, I'd wait.”

His heartfelt confession made another round of tears burn your eyes as you nodded. You cradled his neck, pulling him down to kiss him. Both of you savored the familiar feel of your lips moving together in a practiced dance.

“I love you.”

Azriel knew you meant it; even if you chose to explore your newfound mating bond, knew that nothing could ever take from him the parts of yourself you allowed him the privilege of loving. And so he said it back, insistently ignoring the gnawing worry that it would be the last time.

It wasn’t that much of a shock when Cassian felt you tug oh-so-tentatively on the bond the week after he ran into you in the dining room. He had immediately noticed your shift in demeanor, the heat creeping up your cheeks as you made a beeline out of the room despite having just entered. He had felt something change on his end of the bond the moment your skirts brushed past him in your rush to exit. The bond had finally snapped for you, but he couldn’t reach you, your consciousness locked behind steel-reinforced shields.

A rush of conflicting emotion had erupted in Cassian’s chest at the realization, and it took every ounce of self discipline he had to not chase you down. He knew you would need time, would probably want to tell Azriel before anything else, so he waited and ignored the incessant nagging of the bond to seek you out. He would do this right, would leave the decision entirely up to you despite his overwhelming desire for you to choose him.

Truthfully, Cassian didn’t think that you’d open up on your end so soon after it had snapped, and he tried not to read too much into what that could mean. Instead, when he felt that gentle pulse from you beneath his ribcage, he tugged back in acknowledgement.

Cass…?

Your voice flooded every inch of his head and it was sheer bliss to feel you so intimately intertwined with his mind.

Hey, you.

He replied, heart thundering so loudly he worried that you’d hear it.

Can we talk? Meet on the balcony near the library? Maybe in an hour?

Cassian had never been so anxious, had never been so uncertain and nervous and excited in his life. Regardless of what happened — of what you said — he just wanted to see you. His avoidance of you these past few months was nothing short of torture, and just the thought of being near you again in a way that meant something sent Cassian’s entire being into a new plane of happiness.

Wouldn’t miss it, sweetheart.

You didn’t reply, but he felt you send a wave of fondness and appreciation towards him; Cassian felt like a starved man who had just been offered a loaf of bread.

He had intended on getting at least a little bit of work done in the hour before he was set to meet you, but Cassian found his mind drifting to thoughts of you as he flew around the perimeter of Velaris, running through scenario after scenario that could happen. His excitement was overshadowed by the looming possibility that you would reject the bond, and just the thought of it sent bile churning in his gut.

Cassian knew how much love existed between you and Azriel, had seen firsthand how much you both had committed yourselves to each other. Part of him felt guilty; Azriel was his brother and he didn’t want to be the thing that stood in Az’s way of keeping the love that everyone knew he deserved and that you so willingly provided. Cassian’s mind was twisting circles around itself as he thought about how this would end. Because while Azriel loved you, so did Cassian. And he would be a fool to give up so easily on the opportunity to show you just how much you meant to him, how much he adored you.

Before Cassian could make any headway in finding a solution for this impossible situation, it was time for him to meet you. So, Cassian fluttered his wings and made his way towards the House.

You were already standing on the balcony when he landed, pacing as you alternated between worrying your bottom lip with your teeth and biting your nails. Even with confusion marring your features, the golden hour light of the sun encased you in such warmth, that you glowed luminescent, and he wanted to freeze this moment and remember it forever.

Cassian tamed the urge to kiss the worry away from your raw, swollen lips and massage the crease out from between your brows, and instead said, “Hey.”

You looked up at him and stole the breath straight from his lungs with the radiance of your smile, though dimmed no doubt by the anxiety that plagued you.

“Cass,” you started, soft and the slightest bit hesitant. “Hi.”

An awkward silence that never existed between you two settled in the air now, neither of you wanting to be the one to broach the subject you knew tormented you both day and night. You had almost backed out of having this conversation three times within the past hour, but you knew that it needed to be done. For all of your sakes.

“We’re mates,” you said, and Cassian didn’t miss the way your statement sounded half like a question, as if you still couldn’t wrap your head around the notion. He nodded, stating more definitively, “We’re mates.”

Again, another silence permeated the too large space between you and Cassian thought he’d hurl himself off the ledge of the balcony to avoid the palpable awkwardness of it all. This certainly wasn’t what he pictured in his mind when you both finally had the conversation about your mateship.

You cleared your throat stiffly, not quite meeting his eyes as a cute blush betrayed your serious countenance, “I’m not really sure what to do, Cass. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop for the past week and…I just don’t– I don’t know what to do. I really just–”

Cassian aptly noted the way your emotions showed so clearly on your face. Maybe it was because he could also feel you unwittingly sending them down the bond, but he could tell that your stuttering and frantic fumbling for words was wrought from a week’s worth of anxiety and spinning your thoughts over and over in your mind, probably similar to the way that he had been doing for the past six months. He hated thinking that you felt even a fraction of the confusion and pain that he had endured for the past half a year.

Slowly, in the face of your pain stricken confusion, Cassian's resolve to fight for your affections was crumbling.

Your eyes finally met his, and the glassy sheen of tears that marred their usual clarity made Cassian’s heart lurch; how he wished you would never look at him with such an anguished expression on your face.

“I care about you, Cassian. I care about you so, so much,” you said, and he knew you meant it. He saw it in the way your brows twisted together in earnest and the way your fists clenched at your sides determinedly. He could feel the conflict storming beneath your ribs and wanted to do everything he could to chase it away, make it so that you never faced uncertainty for the rest of your days. But he let you continue, his pulse thundering so loudly he almost couldn’t hear you over the rush of his own blood.

“I just–” you trailed off then, unable to voice your thoughts as they were a tangled mess roiling around in your head, ricocheting off the walls of your skull.

What were you even going to say? You thought you had made a decision, thought you would tell him that you couldn’t accept the bond, that you could never leave Azriel like this. But one look at Cassian and the hope he so desperately tried to mask in his eyes left you floundering, the mating bond begging you not to sever it, not to hurt Cassian. You didn’t expect to be at such an impasse; how were you supposed to choose between instinct and desire? Love and connection? Weren’t they all one in the same anyway? But if they were, how could they be split between the two most important people in your life? What a cruel, cruel fate you all had been subjected to.

Cassian watched as you puzzled through your thoughts, and his desire to ease your worry spurred him to action. He knew the decision would tear you apart, would obliterate not only your relationship with Azriel, but his too, even though he knew Azriel would never hold something like this against either of you. But Cassian loved you both too much to tip the scales in his favor at the cost of ruining his family, of hurting you, of forcing you to make an impossible decision and living with the regret of hurting them both.

So, he chose for you. Despite the way that his heart screamed at him, begged him not to reject the bond, he did anyway. He used every ounce of self control he had to hold himself together and remind himself over and over again that this was the right decision. The future with you that Cassian so desperately wanted was a hair’s breadth away, and for a few precious seconds he allowed himself to sit in the bliss of the in-between, pretending that his next words would be I love you instead of—

“I don’t think we should do this, Y/N,” he said, forcing his voice not to shake, his eyes not to water with the pain of pushing you away. “Maybe…maybe the Cauldron got it wrong.”

He hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt. Because how could the Cauldron get it wrong when being near you, loving you felt so right?

The look you gave him at his words was a mixture of relief and…something else that he couldn’t place. Was it disappointment? Regret?

Cassian didn’t let himself dwell on it further because if he did, and if he convinced himself that he saw even a glimmer of disappointment at his rejection in your eyes, he’d take everything back and say fuck it, I love you, give me a chance. So he averted his gaze as you took his hand, iron willpower crumbling at the sweet euphoria that filled his chest at your touch.

“Cassian,” you rarely used his full name, but you did now and he looked up at you and into your eyes. When he finally met your gaze again, you pulled him into a wonderfully tight hug, “Thank you. I– thank you.”

Despite the searing sting your words left on his heart, Cassian let himself pretend that you were his for the last time as he reveled in your embrace, holding you so steadily, so delicately that if you didn’t know he loved you before, you must have known now.

You pulled away after a few moments but kept him close, holding his face in your hands as your thumbs brushed the apples of his cheeks, eyes searching his face in earnest, “You know I’ll always love you right, Cass?”

You knew it was a cruel and selfish thing to say to him, especially because you could feel the echo of his true feelings down the bond that was slowly, painfully weakening at Cassian’s unwanted rejection. But you needed him to know, needed him to understand more than anything that your love for him transcended the romantic and was existing in a plane reserved solely for him. You wanted him to know that you couldn’t ever thank him or repay him for his sacrifice born out of pure unadulterated love for you; you only wished you could do the same for him.

Briefly, you concluded that — in an alternate universe, another life — Cassian would have loved you with a ferocity that put the heat of the sun to shame. But in this life, you couldn’t tear your heart away from Azriel; your love for him was built on the foundational elements of trust and choice, and you would pick him time and time again.

In this life, you would be greedy and accept Cassian’s sacrifice of his own love for yours, and you would damn well make sure it was worth it.

As if he could read your thoughts — and maybe he could now — he nodded and pulled you in again with a parting kiss to your forehead.

“I know," he said, closing his eyes and leaning in to your touch, savoring the fleeting moments that you had been so close to being his, telling himself that he was grateful for the love that you would offer him, even if it wasn't in the way he so desperately desired. "I know."

[diejager]

Hi hi I love your monster fics you don't have to write anything about this I'm just a little curious on how you think the boys are react to their human reader getting turned into a monster and then reacting to the painful process and you can choose whichever monster and whichever way I'm just a little curious

Pairing: Monster!Task Force 141 x reader

Ce: mentioned torture, blood drinking, biting, vampire!reader, forceful transformation, canon-typical violence, imprisonment, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.7k

Let’s imagine you were contacted by Laswell before the MW2 campaign, freshly given the rank of corporal and still as dumbfounded that Price had asked for you. You had the time to connect with the other men - monsters - and get to know them, to see farther than the image they portrayed to others: broad, gruff and dangerous beasts of the 141.

Graves caught you and Alejandro, locking you in different isolation cells that were made to hold hybrids. You were bitten pale in the darkness of your isolation, your cries and whimpers of being sucked nearly dry reached the other men who were equally unfortunate. Alejandro seethed, growling and turning in his cell, he swore curses and threats at Graves and his gang of servants. He turned you the same night, weakened and dying, ichor dripping from your wounds. He used your moment of submission, of weakness to feed you his essence, a part of his being in his blood. He cradled you as he drank the last of your life force from your veins, making room for his own to fill the emptiness in you, to remake you into his own. Your body was wracked with jerks, limbs shaking and twitching, and you convulsed in a cry of pain, every fibre of your essence remaking itself into the thing he created: a thrall. 

Alejandro, the one who bared witness to your change and suffering in his cell, felt guilty for not being strong enough to escape, it weighed heavily on his mind that he had been the first to get captured and in turn, hadn’t been able to protect you. He’s the first to rush to your cell once he’s freed, if you jump on him in hunger or remained seated against the corner of your cell, restraining yourself from jumping Alejandro, he’d let you drink from him anyway. Partly a token of apology from him, for failing you and himself, and another part because he wanted to be the one to curb your hunger and rage from your transformation. It would be an honour to help you ease into the life of a monster, even though he seethed with wrath and dripped with threats. He’s a shifter, his bones crack and bend every time he shifts, so he understands the pain of changing, he - and Soap, he guessed - could relate and ease the first pains. With his shifting came enhanced strength and agility, easier to withstand your onslaught of attacks when you trained with him. He doesn’t use his claws or teeth on you (unless you’re playing bite with him like you do with Soap, he wouldn’t mind leaving a mark or two on you.), but will take your charpentes nails and practiced blood manipulation that you trained with Ghost. He doesn’t know how dangerous or potent his blood is to vampires and thralls, if his blood enhanced your abilities, made you weaker or sent you in a frenzied state that made you high and dazed, so he let’s you feed on him occasionally. 

Rudy - Rudolfo - was the seconds behind Alejandro, he bared witness to you cradled in his colonel’s arms. Shock and confusion were his first reactions, followed by devastation and guilt. Devastated that you’d been forced into the life of a monster, the world-shattering change happening under stress, anxiety, pain and betrayal. Guilt that he hadn’t been there when you were taken, vanishing in the dark before all of this happened, he couldn’t have done anything to stop Graves from turning you. Although he wasn’t one for violence - unnecessary violence that would cause the death of a person in the most painful and violent ways - he felt anger pulse under his skin, threatening to burst from his bulging (in anger like in animes cuz it’s funny to imagine that) veins. Rudy would be there to help you through the transition, being the one who’s closest to being a human, he could pave the way to control yourself. He would let you fed from him, his mostly human constitution would be nourishing and safe for you than the rest of the men on the Task Force. He might dangle this opportunity over their heads, brag about how he’s the lucky one in all of them when you aren’t looking. If he could - and if you’re comfortable enough - he’d take every feeding in public, smiling smugly in the frowning faces of the rest while you fed.

Ghost, all he could see was red the moment you were taken from him. He had to watch you convulse and cry, the little human from his Task Force - under his protection in las Alma’s - tumbling over the edge and flinch every time he tried to touch you. He knew the possibility that Graves would turn you - he’d made it apparent in his jokes when you first joined them - but that didn’t help the waning fear and anger that churned in his soul. He couldn’t do much to soothe you when you whimpered painfully, all he could do was to hold you as you clung to him, whining at how much your body burned and hurt, as if every fibre of your being was being ripped apart and put back in the wrong places. He knew the danger of having Graves’ thrall in his team, but he couldn’t let you waste on your own. Once he made sure Graves was dead (he’s as destructive as he is suicidal, Ghost would’ve bathed Graves under enhanced UV lights that would burn the vampire but he wouldn’t let Graves die. Stuck in a constant loop of burning and healing, having his blood rendered useless and weak to him. If only Soap hadn’t blown him up in a tank, Ghost would’ve had so much fun torturing Graves for the things he did to you.), he would help you control your powers, master them and use it against others; never again would he let you be captured. Wraiths were deadly creatures, hybrids even more so, so he wouldn’t let you drink from him, not until Laswell had some tests ran on his blood’s constitution for your safety.

Soap, in all his life, never felt more angry with himself and Graves. At himself for not reaching you in time, and at Graves for his transgressions. He sympathized with your transformation, the pain and anguish he felt from you. He held you tightly in a comforting embrace on the ride back to Alejandro’s safehouse, whispering sweet words to your trembling figure. The moment he had his hands on Graves, he made sure he died burning in his tank, sending it sky-high in a grandiose explosion. Every thrall would feel the death of their master, including you. So when you cried about feeling empty, he held you, telling you: “Dinnae worry ‘bout it, m’eudail.” while caressing you. Soap’s a cuddler, he’d cuddle you while you slept on his bed for comfort, letting you bite a him if he bites back. He’s mouthy too, he’d make the best of every situation he or people he cared got into. Now werewolf blood, some find it revolting - mostly pig-headed pure blood vampires like Graves and the like - and others drink it as often as human blood, but you feed from him when he bares his neck to you, smile cocky and posture relaxed. He also likes to show the others - both Rudy and him - their marks, two small puncture wounds on their neck and shoulders. Soap loves close-combat training and will fight you, let you run free with your vampiric strength that would break and kill humans. He’d laugh and chuckle when you try to chase after him and tackle him, it’d be like two kids playing rough.

Gaz felt guilty about not being in Las Almas to help you, only seeing you after you were rescued and trying to adjust to your new skills, and like the rest, he’s angry, feeling the agony oozing from your every pores. He regretted not following you that night to Mexico and now, leaving you locked in a cell where Graves’ influence wouldn’t reach you while they went to retake Alejandro’s base. Although he hated not being the one to end Graves, he was grateful that Soap went wild with explosive, truly the demolition expert of the Task Force. Everything he knew was from the four men’s retelling of the events prior and after your rescue, there was little he could help but work through comforting you with his calming and gentle tongue. He’d make use of his wings to wrap you in a soft and warm cocoon when his talons were too much of a risk to place on you. He knew you liked his fuzzy wings, so why not use them for your comfort. He could fight you, but his constitution meant that he had hallow, but sturdy bones, a thrall’s strength would hurt but not break them like Price, Alejandro or Soap. Gaz’s a bit sensitive, he knew that but still wanted you to be able to depend on him when you were hungry, he might whine here and there, but he liked the thought of having a bit of him inside you.

Price took it the hardest, it was his Task Force, his responsibility to take care of his pack - his dragon’s hoard - and you were the most vulnerable one and the baby of the team, so you held more weight in his heart. He was disappointed in himself for not seeing the trickery from Shepherd, the red flag of finding America ballistic missiles on the mission and not connecting it to the General or the USA. He blamed himself for your change and your temporary imprisonment while they went to kill the one who did it to you, who brought you so much suffering. Anger filed his quest and protectiveness made it successful, taking down your torturer so that you could live influence-free of Graves. Price, like a father-figure, protected and cared for his family and he failed. He could trust Gaz, Soap and Rudy to comfort you, to ground you to earth. He could trust Ghost and Alejandro to teach you, to help you protect yourself. And he, all he could bring himself to do without feeling shame, was to urge you to rest. Little acts that would give you more time to rest and less duties, he had experience and restraint, he would help where the others lacked. He’d refrain from letting you drink draconic blood, the power and potency of it would overcharge you for a time. Perhaps he’d let you take from him before an especially difficult and dangerous mission, but outside that, he’s known for his self-restraint.

[little-star-library]

If you have the time, I’d like you to imagine if you will:

You and Astarion are in the middle of a small clearing just outside of camp and he has you pinned against a tree, staring you down with an intensity of his eyes, but there’s a flash of worry that crosses over his face before he replaces it with his usual mask of facade.

Only moments ago, he witnessed you speaking with Karlach in what sure as hells looked like something that was far more than friendly conversation. The two of you were speaking in hushed tones, giggling at each other’s anecdotes and inside jokes. He’s only just beginning to know you and has successfully bedded you already to ensure his protection and alliance, so why does he all of a sudden care about who you talk to? He was never one to get jealous over someone, surely, but there was a vague flash of possessiveness that overtook his mind and it was overwhelming to say the least.

“So, my dear,” he drops his voice into a low rumble. “Care to explain what you and Karlach were up to earlier?”

“I’m sorry, but what?” This took you by surprise and you honestly don’t know what brought this on.

“Oh come now, don’t be coy.” Astarion scoffed, taking a step closer to further intimidate you and trap you under his hardened gaze. “I saw everything that was going on between you two, your little whispers of shared delight. You were practically oozing into a puddle by her side.”

Oh. Now you understood what this was about. You didn’t think that he was one to actually care with his ‘devil may care’ attitude and you weren’t going to apologize for some friendly banter with one of your fellow companions. You felt like you were never in the wrong in the first place and it wasn’t his business to know who you were conversing with. But this was an advantage for you to see if he actually wanted something more than just a one night fling and a plan started to brew in your mind.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’re actually jealous.” You matched his gaze and your lip twitch into a little smile in defiance. He grimaced at your response and his fangs gleamed in the low light of the setting sun with a disgusted curl of his lip. That was all the confirmation you needed and you couldn’t help but feel bad now that you caught him, but you wanted to see how far you could push him in retaliation for his blasé remarks he made of the last night you spent together.

“You know,” you teased. “You’re pretty cute when you’re angry.” That was the last straw by the look on his face, clearly unamused by how nonchalant you were about the situation.

“Oh really?” He leered, grasping your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your jaw until there was nothing but a few inches of space from his lips making contact with your own. “Well I’m about to be fucking gorgeous.”

“You already are.” Your breath hitched at the sharp inhale he took in, expecting him to yell at you for being so infuriating, but you were pleasantly surprised when Astarion pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss that left you shuddering from head to toe. You melted instantly in his embrace and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck to further deepen the embrace, but it was shortly lived as he curled his fingers through the hair at the back of your neck and yanked your head back to glare at you with a look that held such a ferocity it made you weak at the knees.

“You’re truly insufferable.” He was seething at this point and a pang of guilt dropped low in the pit of your stomach for not taking him seriously. It was clear now that this was something that was gnawing away at him. “Pretending to be so oblivious to the rather obvious onslaught of flirtations from the others, it’s a rather pathetic act to uphold if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry, Astarion.” You huffed out a laugh, trying to maintain a cool demeanor to not upset him more. “But you know that I only have my eyes set on you, right? I would never stoop so low to lead you astray like that and I quite enjoy spending my time with you. If you say that I’m ‘oblivious to their flirtations’, then I can only say that part is true because I’m not actively looking for it. That’s because I’m not interested in them. I’m interested in you, if you’ll still have me.”

Your confession had him pause unexpectedly and his stiff demeanor began to roll off of him in an instant as you saw the light in his eyes soften and his shoulders slumped lower. Of course he was quick to assume that you were anything but loyal to him, however that lingering sense of jealousy in the back of his mind began to fade as he flitted his narrowed eyes across your facial features in search of any hints of deceit and found none. Your face only reflected your reassurance of your feelings as you smiled softly up at him and he suddenly forgot why he was upset at all. You were too kind and sweet for your own good and Astarion felt as if he could never really deserve someone as devoted as you were, but here you are.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He chuckled lightly at the absurdity of the present situation, clearing his throat to chase away the anxious tension. “You don’t have anything to apologize for and I should be the one begging for your forgiveness. And I really am sorry, darling. I suppose I did get a tad carried away and assumed something was…off, to put it plainly.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you grinned cheekily. “You had your reasons and I understand where you’re coming from, honestly. And if there’s something on your mind that’s bothering you, I also hope you know that you can always come to me if you need to talk. We don’t have to rush into anything you’re not comfortable with yet and there’s no hurry to make anything official between us if that’s what you want, but I’m here for you nonetheless.”

You once again stunned him into silence and you could swear that you saw the faintest blush bloom across his cheeks when you raised up to the tips of your toes to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. He really was cute in his own way. Through your eyes, you saw a man slowly learning to become his own person and you knew all too well how painful it could be when you feel like you were always being taken for granted. But you also witnessed a good number of his quirks that began to shine through as you grew closer to one another over time and you hope that one day he can see that he deserves to be loved and cherished just like anyone else does.

“Thank you.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, his touch gentle as he took your hand in his own to kiss at the back of your knuckles. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

You could tell that there was more on his mind, but didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words presently and that was okay. As long as he knew that he had your support, then that was enough for you.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 4 - Saturday Night | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.8k

"Layla..." you called her that same morning after you darted away from the guest room, heart racing and mind swirling with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Your body was littered with remnants of Trent as scurried up to your bedroom.  

"What? You're making me nervous!" she replied, her tone a mix of concern and curiosity.

"I fucked him last night, Layla," you admitted, barely able to contain the shame and guilt that washed over you.

"Ermmmm, are you talking about...?" Layla trailed off, clearly aware of your long-time crush on Trent but shocked that you might have actually gone through with it.

"Yes," you confirmed, cringing at the admission.

"Oh my fucking god!" she screamed, and you had to pull the phone away from your ear, stifling a giggle.

"I know. But I'm such an idiot," you sighed, feeling a mix of exhilaration and dread.

"Were you drunk?" she asked, sounding almost hopeful.

"No, we were totally sober," you replied, feeling a little prouder that it hadn't been a drunken mistake.

"I let him fuck me. And then I scampered up to my room like a little girl this morning. What do I do?" you confessed, panic rising in your chest. “Also… ‘let’ is probably not the word to describe what happened. I begged him… he had me begging, lays.” You whined recalling how Trent had you acting in that bedroom.

“Lol so the dick was as good as you imagined.” Layala laughed. "Did you talk or was it like a quickie?" Layla asked, jumping around with questions, her voice lowering as if she were afraid someone might overhear.

"Erm... it definitely wasn't quick. It was roundsss, Layla, but we were trying to be quiet. I mean, It was literally in the house.. Jack was upstairs," you explained, feeling the embarrassment creep up your neck. 

"God, that’s fucked up. But girlie, maybe this is the shift! We’ve been waiting for this man to move on you," she encouraged, though you could hear her excitement laced with a tease about how long this had been building for bubbling through the line.

"I don't know, my brother would murder me. What if... maybe it was a one-off thing for him," you said, uncertainty flooding your voice. “Maybe he just wanted to do it once and then call it. Like get it out of his system.” You reflected back wondering what this meant for Trent versus what it meant for you. Maybe different things. For you, this had been years of longing coming to a head, finally he gave you a chance and took you to bed. You worried that for Trent maybe he was simply just horny that night and once he knew you’d kiss him, he finally took you up on a bigger offer. 

"Well, like how was it?" Layla pressed, her curiosity growing slicing through the onslaught of panic in your own head that she couldn’t hear.

"Lay.." you said, using her nickname as a cautionary warning.

"Like how good though?" she insisted, practically bouncing with anticipation and a dirty smirk.

"Layla... I was literally in heaven," you admitted, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. "I’ve never felt like that in my life. His hands on me– within the first minute, I was moaning like an embarrassing mess. He had me on the verge of blacking out. The way he felt... oh my days... he made me squirt, I was just for him in the best way possible," you confessed, feeling a thrill at your own words.

"Oh my god!" Layla squealed, her excitement palpable even through the phone. You’d never reported that happening with other men so Layla’s shock was fairly merited. 

"Shhh!" you hissed, glancing nervously toward the door, half-expecting Jack to burst in and demand to know what was going on. You could almost hear his protective big-brother instincts kicking in. Layla was silent for a moment.

"You need to figure out what's next. If it was that good for you… Y/N, he must’ve loved seeing you like that. If there are two things that boy loves, it’s winning and it’s you; having you begging for him… he must’ve been in heaven too. I’m sure of it. Don’t overthink this, maybe it's worth the risk. Plus, if the boy knows what he’s doing…." She sang cheekily. You pondered her words, the reality of the situation settling in. What if this was just the beginning? The beginning of a very dangerous relationship but also potentially the beginning of more very good sex. “Maybe you should see it through. Talk to him or have sex with him, whatever you’re feeling.” She laughed. You giggled, falling forward and hiding your face. 

“I’m so fucked…” You whined.  

“Literally.”  Layla teased, as you noticed yet another visible love bite on your skin.

A few days passed and you were laid sprawled out on your bed, phone in hand, staring at Trent’s pictures on google. It felt so silly, googling him like he was some distant crush you’d never met, but here you were, scrolling through articles and match reports. You wanted to know every detail—how his last game went, what people were saying, the headlines, the photos, the videos. Seeing him on the field in action, looking focused and sharp… and sexy stirred something deep inside you. And then, almost on autopilot, you dialed his number. The ringing made your stomach flip. 

“Hey, pretty girl” When he answered, his voice was warm but fairly surprised.  You froze, suddenly unsure of what you’d meant to say. Why did you just call your brother’s best friend? But his soft laugh on the other end nudged you, and then he spoke again, this time with a hint of something more in his voice. “I’m glad you called. Been thinking about you.” Oh yeah, because he fucked you the other night that’s why you called him. This was a disaster but his words hit you right in the chest, and you let out a quiet, shaky breath, smiling despite yourself. The playfulness between you two was easy and effortless, like slipping into an old habit. The conversation flowed naturally, flirty in a way you couldn’t resist.  When he asked what you were up to you told him you were already in bed, feeling the silence hang heavy between you. He chuckled softly. The moment hung between you, that delicious tension settling in as you lay there, holding your phone to your ear. Hearing Trent’s voice through the speaker, warm and inviting, made your heart beat faster. You took a breath, steadying yourself.

“In bed, yeah?” he murmured, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. The way he said it was casual enough, but there was an edge—a hint of suggestion that wasn’t lost on you.

“Mm-hmm,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the little catch in your breath betrayed you. This wasn’t like your usual banter, and you could both feel it.

“Well… that’s a shame,” he said, a hint of a chuckle in his tone. “Because I’m not there.” He teased.

“Not here yet,” you corrected softly, biting your lip. The words slipped out before you could think, surprising even yourself. You really wished he was in your bed right now. A guest bedroom didn’t have the same intimacy your own bedrooms would’ve. You hoped you’d get to have in him in your bed again one day.

“Yet?” he echoed, his voice dropping a bit. The way he said it sent a thrill through you. He sounded… interested. Was he interested?

“You sound a little… distracted, T.” You laughed softly, trying to keep things light. 

“Distracted? I mean, that’s a bold assumption for someone who just called me in bed.” He smiled and although you couldn’t see it, you could hear it.

“Touché,” you admitted. He let out a low laugh, and then his voice softened, almost as if he were drawing closer to you through the line. 

“I’ve been thinking about you, you know… Not just tonight, either.” A little breath caught in your throat, and you felt heat bloom in your cheeks. You’d been thinking about him too—more than you wanted to admit. And yet here he was, saying it so easily, without hesitation. You felt that familiar ease between you two, but now it had a sharper edge to it, something thrilling and dangerous. “Wish I wasn’t stuck in Milan right now… but since you’re in bed and… since you’re all cozy,” he continued, “maybe you could let me see what I’m missing in that bed?” You hesitated, heart pounding. It was so simple, and yet the thought of it felt electric. 

“You mean right now?” You asked almost in shock. There were moments lately that felt like a rubber band to the back of your neck. It almost confused you that Trent was talking to you like this now. Your brother’s best friend essentially was asking for photos. Your head was spinning at his composure. 

“Yeah, baby” he said, his voice almost a murmur. And it was back… suddenly you were ‘baby’ again. “Just a little something to tide me over. Unless you’re too shy? But I didn’t think you got shy when you’re in bed,” he teased, knowing exactly how to make your pulse race.

“I’m not shy.” You let out a quiet laugh, your confidence swelling

“Good.” His voice dropped, that familiar warmth and playfulness making your skin tingle. “Be a good girl and send me a photo.” His voice was soft, coaxing, and it sent a thrill through you. The anticipation made your fingers tingle as you bit your lip, considering it. It felt thrillingly new, even after all these years of knowing him—this version of him, of you, of you two together. You bit your lip, and after a quick glance around your room, you sat up, ripping off your hoodie, adjusting your hair and holding your phone up for a quick snap. You knew it had to be just the right mix of casual and tempting. You could see your nipples through the sheer tank top but the soft smile made it cute, innocent. You weren’t about to send him a nude out the gate but just something to get his mind thinking about being there with you. When you hit send, there was a pause on the other end, and then Trent let out a quiet groan.  “Nah, you’re killing me, you know that?” He groaned. You laughed, feeling emboldened by his reaction. 

“Think you’d want to see me when you’re back? Come be cozy in bed?”  You giggled teasingly. 

“Honestly?” he replied and your heart skipped a beat in the worst way, expecting the worst. A rush of worry maybe he was about to change his mind, “I’m not sure I can hold out much longer” He exhaled, sounding half-playful, half-serious, and you could feel his anticipation echoing back at you. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You smirked realizing he had been trying to play it cool since you two had sex. You weren’t sure what to think of that, a part of you wondered if he was embarrassed it happened but then the sexual tension of the current moment overruled any cautionary thought you were having. The line went silent for a moment. “There better be space for me in that bed once I’m back. yeah?” He added. The way he said it made your cheeks flush, a promise tucked into his words.

“There always has been, T,” you whispered, surprising even yourself with the quiet assurance in your voice. And with that, you both hung up, your heart racing as you lay back, feeling the anticipation buzz through you.

Layla was away for work down in London when you and Trent hooked up so it was a couple days' time until she got to come over and properly debrief. Once she was back in town Layla was immediately at your house, practically bursting with excitement as soon as she stepped through the door. You barely had time to breathe before you were pulling her into your room to spill all the details.

“Lays… look at me, look at this! He did this. Trent did this!” you said, lifting your little flouncy shorts just enough to reveal the cheeky bruise left on the inside of your thigh. You emphasized his name just to really hammer home that Trent Alexander-Arnold, long time crush, Jack’s best friend, sexy footballer left that on you. You were both giggling like teenagers as you collapsed onto your bed, recounting the details of that night.

“Oh my god!” Layla squealed, eyes wide as she burst into laughter. “That’s very secondary school of you getting love bites.” She teased. You couldn’t help but giggle, the thrill of the moment still fresh in your mind, not caring for her teasing joke. “I’m kidding, girlie, that’s actually kind of nuts considering...” She tilted her head as if you were supposed to know what she was implying. 

“Considering….” You inquired. 

“Y/N, this is the riskiest hook up you both possibly could be involved in, and while I don’t think Jack often sees that much of you… for T to be so in wrapped in the moment of finally getting you into bed, so into fucking you, claiming you, that he’s leaving marks… He’s so into this! He’s down because he’s risking a lot here.” She explained. You fought the sly smile pulling on your lips. The days that followed the night with Trent were a whirlwind of excitement and nervous energy but hearing her explain it like that felt like new insight. After you first had called her, Layla had insisted on analyzing every text message Trent sent you since that night. You were practically glued to your phone, reading and rereading his messages as you waited for more. But now, she was finally here with you so you could share your love bites. You and Layla had planned to drive to Selfridges this afternoon for some shopping for the new season. Whilst on the way there you received a text that made your heart race the second it pinged. 

“He texted meee!” you squealed, showing the screen to Layla, who couldn’t look right away because she was driving but she believed you. The sheer volume of your exclamation made her wince, only one person was eliciting that sort of response from you lately. 

“Oh my god, Y/N, get a grip!” She softly laughed. “You’ve had his number for years!” she teased, rolling her eyes mocking you lightheartedly of course but unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips. She was excited, you were excited. Trent’s text was casual at first, but as you read on, you noticed the subtle undertones. He asked if you and Layla just might happen to want to swing by a club in Manchester this Saturday night, specifically around midnight, and specifically to come join a certain table with him and his friends It was meant to sound nonchalant, but the specifics made it clear he wanted to see you.

The casual tone didn’t fool either of you as you read the full message allowed to her. The exact time and place felt a little too intentional, making it clear that he wanted to see you. Layla smirked, nudging you. You blushed, excitement and nerves churning in your stomach.

“Girl, he’s planned this. With teammates and not his boys i.e not Jack…” Layla remarked, leaning in closer to reread the message for herself at a stoplight. “You know what this means, right?” She smiled. 

“What?” you asked, your heart pounding. Naively, you were struggling with this new relationship with Trent. His ‘older brother’s best friend’ persona was so seared into your brain, the ideas that normally were flowing for you with previous men and what they wanted from you… weren’t coming as easily for some reason. You were overthinking your instincts. It’s not that you didn’t have the desire. You just were so afraid of him not liking you that way, you almost didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Trent. You were scared.

“It means he’s not just interested; he’s invested. He’s making plans to see you. You have to go!” Layla cooed. You felt a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of anxiety. You couldn’t shake the thought of what if it was all just fun and games for him? But the way he texted, the way he seemed to genuinely want to see you in a setting like that, made your heart flutter.

“Do you really think I should? He also said you too Lays, so you have to go with me,” you told her, biting your lip nervously.

“Hell yes! We and by we, I mean you, are not going to let an opportunity like this pass you by. By the way… It’s obvious, T thought the first time was good too,” Layla said cheekily, her enthusiasm infectious. “We need to get you ready. Find an outfit that’ll make him forget his own name!” You laughed, feeling a little giddy at the idea. 

“Okay, okay, you’re right. I need to at least give it a go. But I’m still freaking out! Fuck!” You whined, burying your head in your hands almost embarrassed by your nerves. “I have to be careful though… like I can’t do too much. I’m scared he’ll be like… ‘what are you doing?’ or ‘who are you trying to be?’ You know?” You explained once the idea of fashion and outfits came into your mind.

“I get that… we need to be cool, calm, collected… and fucking sexy. Ugh a yellow shopping bag couldn’t come at a better time!” Layla said, pulling into the car park for the department store dreaming of filling the boot with those shopping bags. The thought of seeing Trent again filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves, but you couldn’t help but feel hopeful. You couldn’t help but feel a bit eager for another night with Trent, no matter the consequences at stake. You and Layla spent the entire afternoon bouncing from one brand’s section to another in Selfridges, rifling through racks, holding up options and critiquing each one. Layla was relentless, pushing you to try looks you had a hard time wrapping your head around that somethings so sexy could be for Trent. After some trial and error, you finally found the outfit. You took a deep breath and tucked off into the changing room, slipping lace fabric against your skin, watching how it transformed you. When you stepped out, Layla’s jaw dropped.

“Oh my fucking god, he’s gonna pass out.” Layla laughed almost in disbelief as you stepped out of the changing room in a sheer black lace dress. It was strapless and pushed your boobs up, hugging you in all the right places.  It was dangerously sexy. The dress was just the right side of bold. I mean, it was obvious but in a cool way. You checked yourself out in the mirror, feeling that same rush of excitement and  hint of nerves you’d felt since you got the text.  “This is perfect. It’s so fucking good — ugh I can’t wait to see his face. Nonchalant, my ass, he won’t be able to keep his hands off,” Layla grinned, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Do you really think this is enough?” you asked, adjusting the dress one more time, tilting back and forth to catch the way it moved on you. Layla smirked deviously making it very clear she had more ideas. 

“Yes, but we’re not done… We’re getting you lingerie. If you want him to never think of you as Jack’s sister again, we have to make sure this look, this version of you is seared into his brain Saturday.” She grabbed your hand and dragged you to find La Perla navigating through the store with a determination that made you laugh despite your nerves. The idea of buying this all for your brother’s best friend was fucking insane but you didn’t want him to be just your brother’s best friend anymore. The delicate lace and silky pieces of lingerie were making you blush, remembering how gently he pulled your own panties off you that first night. And so with Layla’s guidance, you started sifting through options, feeling bolder with each choice. At first, you stuck to safe-ish options, something that could pass as an everyday piece—but Layla wasn’t having it. She held up a set that was anything but modest: something lacey that felt both elegant and dangerously seductive. You stared at it, feeling a jolt of confidence and a hint of nervousness.

“Actually just this,” Layla said, putting back the set and grabbing just a scrap of fabric, holding out to you with a smirk. “We do this, no bra, and the dress, that’ll erase any idea that you’re a little sister. You’ll walk in, and that’s the only thing he’ll remember.” You felt electric, standing there, imagining the look on Trent’s face when he saw you in the skimpy piece of fabric you were about to ludicrously pay £200 for. By the time you left Selfridges, you had everything you needed: the perfect dress, heels that made you feel powerful, and a pair of panties that would stay with him long after the night was over. Layla squeezed your arm. “By the way, Y/N… You’re not Jack’s sister, you’re you. That’s why he’s interested. And Trent is not going to forget it.”

That Saturday night was a whirlwind of desire and temptation. Trent’s private table was an oasis of luxury, tucked in the club’s exclusive area surrounded by footballers and bottles of liquor. The lights were dim, casting a seductive glow over the scene, and the air was thick with anticipation.  When you walked into the club you were escorted to the area and Trent's usual composure shattered. He'd planned to keep it cool, but the sight of you in the dress threw his carefully crafted nonchalance out the window. His eyes traveled over you, taking in every curve with a hunger that made him feel both exhilarated and guilty. You were Jack's sister-his best mate's sister-but right now that was being erased. You were here… he wasn’t and now all he could think about was getting you close to him. Close to him so he could get his hands on you and those clothes off you. To keep things casual, he greeted Layla first, introducing her to his teammates so it wasn’t too obvious. But when he finally turned to you, it felt like the room silenced, as if nothing else mattered in that moment. Without a word, his arms wrapped around you, and his hands fell low, cupping the curve of your ass with a daring boldness that sent a surge of adrenaline through both of you. You nestled into him, breathing him in. The scent of him, a woody velvet encircled you wrapping you in the comfort of him. You didn't kiss though, you couldn’t, not out in public, but his touch told you everything. He wanted to. You wanted.

"You look so fucking sexy." He murmured, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. You could feel his perfect pout move against the shell of your ear. The words came out low, rough, igniting a blush that you couldn't hide. You draped your arms over his shoulders, letting your fingers trail down his neck as you pulled him closer, eyes gleaming. 

"It can be all for you," you taunted, leaving the promise hanging in the air before slipping away to greet Layla and the others. As you moved away, Trent exhaled, watching you move to greet some of his mates with an exasperated smile. It was going to be a long night, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could play it cool.

You and Layla seamlessly joined Trent and his teammates. It was easy. The energy of the night igniting a fire between you and him though. His eyes stayed locked on you, a mix of longing and mischievous intent as you danced with Layla. He wasn’t one to really dance so for the time being he continued on his quest to play it cool, leaned back on a couch watching you move. Even with distance between you two, the electric connection tether you to him. Your pulse quickening with every glance.  In the dim light of the nightclub, the bass thrummed like a heartbeat in the air, creating a pulsing rhythm that matched the intoxicating sway of the crowd. The atmosphere was thick with a heady mix of laughter, music. The club’s DJ mixed a seamless transition of songs rolling one into the next, a 2010 classic you knew Trent loved. You smirked at him and strutted over, reaching out to him. Your hand extended, unsure if he’d take it. But he did, he grabbed your hand as you pulled him to stand up. Against his usual reserved demeanor to avoid dancing,  he couldn’t resist you. The club pulsed with the rhythm of Jeremih’s mid 2000’s ‘Put It Down on Me’ vibrating through the floor and mingling with the heat of the room. As the beat of the music wrapped around you, you positioned yourself directly on top of Trent, your back pressed against his chest. The heat from his body radiated through the thin fabric of your dress, every movement heightened by the press of his strong frame. The boundaries between flirtation and something more had long since blurred. The pulsing bass of the club surrounded you, and as Trent's hands settled on your waist, every nerve in you ignited. He pulled you in, letting his fingers slip down, dragging you flush against him as you dragged your own hands down his strong arms before placing your hands overtop of his, guiding them over your body as you moved. You could feel his breath near your ear. The look in his eyes was electric, and as his hands caressed you, a thrill of anticipation for what could happen bloomed between you two. You pulled back just enough, tilting your head back to give him a shy, knowing smile that hinted you weren't about to play it safe tonight, that you didn’t want to. As the night wore on, Trent kept you on him and the drinks kept flowing, the boundaries blurred to a point where it felt like they didn’t exist at all to you. Any attempt to keep things casual had faded as you stayed pressed against him, feeling the heat of his body as you moved together to the rhythm. Your hips swayed, and Trent's hands seemed to find their way to every curve, guiding you as if the whole club had melted away, leaving just the two of you in the moment. The music wrapped you both in its seductive embrace, and every glance he stole felt like a secret promise. You found yourself feeling utterly alive under the spell of his charm. The longer his hands were on you, the more you wanted him, the more deliberate the way you moved against him got, you could feel him against you. 

"You're gonna get me in trouble," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice was low and teasing, but you felt the strain behind it, like he was barely holding back, on the verge of breaking. But he invited you tonight, he wanted this even if he was implying that you needed to be cautious. A smirk tugged at your lips as you glanced back at him, feeling bold. You reached up behind you, letting your arm drape back around his neck as you grinded against him, feeling his hands grip you tighter, the friction sending waves of pleasure through both of you. 

"Good," you whispered back. Your tone was playful, a little challenging, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as they met yours. You let your free hand guide his up your body, tracing his touch from your hip slowly traveling up your side, over your ribs, the curve of your tits and finally resting on the curve of your throat. The placement of his hand was intoxicating, and Trent’s resolve wavered as he struggled to keep his composure.  Trent’s breath quickened, his other hand’s fingers tightening around your hips as you guided his hand to stay on your neck as you arched into his touch more. He squeezed his eyes shut fast, fighting the surge of desire that threatened to overwhelm him. His fingers gently squeezed your neck, sending a shiver through you. Trent closed his eyes once more for another second, as if willing himself to stay in control, but you knew exactly what you were doing and he knew he wasn’t going to manage much longer, not like this. Every little touch, every brush of your skin, sent his mind spiraling back to the night you'd spent together. And so you continued, your hand guiding his, bringing it from your neck up to your lips. You took his hand in yours and slowly dragged one of his fingers over your lips, letting it linger there. Then, feeling daring, you kissed his finger before slipping it into your mouth with a teasing grin. You took the finger into your warm, wet mouth, your tongue circling it seductively. Trent's eyes snapped open, the tension clear in his expression. Trent’s breath hitched, his control slipping as the warmth and wetness of your mouth made his pulse race. 

"Y/N..." he cautioned, his voice husky. He was trying to keep it together, trying to hold his composure, but you could tell he was barely hanging on and you wanted him to falter. The air around you was charged, electric with the intensity of the moment. The nightclub’s atmosphere seemed to amplify the tension, every beat of the music syncing with the quickened rhythm of your hearts. The intimacy of the gesture, the way you drew him into your world with such daring confidence, left Trent in a state of heated disarray. The private area, the pulsating music, and your body pressed against his created a searing contrast to the cool sophistication of the setting. He could barely think straight as you continued to tease him with your movements and your touch, each moment building towards a crescendo of irresistible need.

"Get me in trouble," you whispered a plea, your voice a soft taunt, challenging him to let go. You felt his breath catch, and for a split second, it seemed like he was going to give in, pull you closer and damn the consequences. His fingers dropped to tighten on your waist, his gaze intense, and you could feel his resolve crumbling with every second. The thrill of it sent a rush through you, knowing you'd pushed him to this point, both of you teetering on the edge of what came next.

Layla was watching with barely concealed amusement, a grin spreading across her face as she took in the scene, proud of her handiwork considering the dress seemed to be more than effective but then again, his fingers were in your mouth moments ago so it was a toss up what really was sending Trent over the age. But she wasn't the only one who saw you two– Trent's teammates had also noticed, exchanging looks that ranged from amused to confused. One of them leaned over to Layla, eyebrows raised.

"That's his mate's sister, right?" He asked earnestly. Layla chuckled, shaking her head. 

"Oh is she ever," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That is one, sexy, ticking time bomb," She laughed. The music pulsed around you, bodies moving under the lights as Trent leaned in close, his expression intense. He’d had enough. 

“You’re leaving with me. Right now.” He murmured seriously, the command laced with an impatience you could feel from a mile away.

“What do you mean? Why? ” Feigning innocence, you tilted your head. He bit back a smirk, annoyed but undeniably amused by your act. So he decided to play along.

“I mean, you just look a little hot, baby… Think you have too many clothes on.” He told you, making up a farce.  His gaze trailed over you, lingering with obvious intent.  His arm wrapped around you letting his massive hand run over your collarbone over to your shoulder and then down your arm brushing over your skin, slick from the club’s heat.

“I’m in a mini dress, T baby, I think I’m okay.” You whispered with a shrug, biting back a little laugh. He moved in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his fingers gripped your waist. 

“I said, you have too many clothes on." He said more commandingly. A thrill ran through you, your pulse quickening. "Let me help you, yeah?” He cooed cheekily.

“Maybe you’re right. I think I need you.” You gave him a sly smile then glanced over to find Layla. After making sure she was all set for the night, she told you to go and you hugged her goodbye promising you’d check in to make sure one of the other boys got her home safely. She wasn’t exactly keen about leaving since she had hit it off with one of the other boys there. She shot you a knowing grin and a wink as you slipped away with Trent, his hand gripping yours with unmistakable possession as he led you through the crowd. You quickly mouthed a ‘love you’ to her, her smirk only widening as she watched you and Trent disappear. Trent tugged you closer to him, his hand dropping to your lower back to keep you close and protect as he guided you through the crowd and toward the exit. As he led you out to the private exit, his hand firmly grasping yours, you felt a giddiness wash over you. It felt surreal to leave somewhere like this with him. The alcohol and the adrenaline from the night's adventures had left you feeling fearless and carefree. You giggled as he dragged you along, your high heels clicking against the ground. 

"Hey, slow down, needy boy" you slurred, attempting to match his long strides. "I can barely keep up with you.” You giggled. Trent needed to leave out the back for his car service to pick him up. He did it often but especially tonight, he couldn’t risk paparazzi. He looked at you, his expression torn between frustration and desire, his hand still warm in yours.

"I fuck… I couldn't... God, fuck baby… I hate that I can’t just…" he started, stumbling through thoughts you had a hard time connecting. His voice was rough as he struggled to find the words. But then his gaze met yours, and in a second, he was leaning in, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that made everything else disappear. The restraint he'd held onto all night finally snapped, and you felt his hands tighten around you, pulling you close in the back exit halls as if he couldn't get enough.  “I need to get you home. Been dying to kiss you. I couldn’t take it anymore. Been driving me crazy all night." Trent chuckled, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“I want to go home, baby.” You playfully whined,  your eyes sparkling with mischief. The cool night air hit you like a shock, but Trent's firm grip anchored you, his urgency undeniable. As soon as you were outside, he pulled you into him, glancing around once over as if checking to make sure no one followed towards the car.

“Gonna be a good girl f’me when we get home?” He asked you and you nodded slowly but desperately.  The lights from the club cast a hazy glow around you, making everything feel surreal. You got into the black car equipped with security that had waited for you two. The drive back to his place felt like an eternity. You were dying to get there but terrified to go at the same time. His hands were subtly all over you during the car ride building up the tension even more than you thought possible. The heat radiating off your bodies, and the way his gaze lingered on your lips had you desperate for him. As you approached his house, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, a mixture of nerves and anticipation. 

With a swift movement, Trent unlocked his front door and pulled you inside, his eyes dark with desire. The moment the door closed behind you, he crashed his lips against yours, hungrily devouring your mouth. His kiss was aggressive, demanding, and it took your breath away. You responded eagerly, your hands gripping his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. He pulled back momentarily, his eyes scanning your face, searching for any hesitation. 

"Are you sure about this, Y/N? I don't want to push you too far. But I’m having a hard time controlling myself here" He asked earnestly. A wave of desire washed over you, and you knew you wanted this as much as he did, maybe more. 

"Stop asking," you whispered, your voice laced with need. "Just fuck me, T. I want you to fuck me again. Make me cum again." A devilish grin spread across his face, and he wasted no time in taking control. His hands roamed over your body, unzipping your dress and roughly pulling it down, exposing your bare skin. He traced his fingers along the curve of your waist, down to the swell of your hips, and then back up, cupping your tits.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growled, his lips finding your neck, nipping and suckling on your sensitive skin. "You promised you’d be a good girl f’me. Yeah?"  He smoke against your skin. You nodded as you arched your back, offering yourself to him, your breath coming in shallow gasps. 

"T, baby… don't hold back. I’m serious. I’ll do whatever you want. I want it rough. I want to forget everything but your touch."  Trent’s eyes lit up. This was all still so new and he was more than excited to hear you talk to him like that. His hands moved with purpose, completely removing your dress freeing your heavy tits. He palmed them, squeezing and kneading, his thumbs teasing your sensitive nipples. 

"Fuck, your tits are incredible," he groaned, his lips moving to capture a nipple, sucking it into his warm mouth. You moaned loudly, your head falling back as pleasure coursed through your body. His mouth felt incredible on your sensitive flesh, and you couldn't help but beg for more. 

"Oh fuck, please. I need more." You cried out. He released your nipple with a pop, leaving it aching and tingling. 

"You've always wanted me, haven't you, baby?" he teased, his voice laced with a hint of dominance. "Admit it, you've been craving my cock inside you since the other week." He growled.  Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal. You weren’t sure you were ever going to get over how sexy it was to hear Trent talk like this to you, and it sent a thrill through your core. 

"Yeah huh... I've always wanted you. You know I have,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I want you to use me,T." You weren't thinking it in real time but you almost didn’t recognize the words coming out of your mouth, you’d never been this down for a man before, so willing, so submissive. 

“Fuck… Wear these just for me, baby?” He asked lust burning behind his dark mahogany eyes as he admired the La Perlas you’d worn exactly as he said... just for him.  You hummed confirming. “Such a good girl for me.” Trent snickered, his hands moving down to the waistband of your thong roughly pulling them off you, exposing your glistening folds. You gasped. "I’ll buy you more baby, don’t worry. I know you… you like to be dirty for me. You’ve been craving my touch, my cock, huh?” Your skin was on fire under his touch, your pussy throbbing and dripping with need. 

"Please, Trent," you pleaded, your voice hoarse. "Touch me, I'm so wet for you." He didn't need any more encouragement. His fingers delved between your legs, finding your swollen clit, and began to stroke and tease. 

"Fuck, you're so fucking wet," he grunted, his breath hot against your ear. "I love how you get so turned on by me." Your body trembled as his fingers worked their magic, circling your clit, sliding into your slick heat.

"Yeah– I fuck.. Oh my god. For you baby. Oh God, yes," you whimpered a jumble of words, your hips thrusting against his hand. "Right there, please, don't stop." You moaned. Trent's touch was relentless, his fingers plunging deep inside you, curling and stroking your sweet spot. 

"That's it, baby, cum for me. I want to feel your pussy clench around my fingers." Your orgasm built rapidly, your body coiling tighter with each stroke of his skilled fingers. 

"I'm gonna cum, baby!" you cried out, your voice hoarse and raw. He increased the pace, his thumb rubbing your clit in firm circles. 

"That's it, let it all out. Cum for me, pretty girl.” He cooed as your release hit you like a tidal wave, your body shaking as pleasure consumed you. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you. “Good girl.” He gently praised you kissing your neck. As your tremors subsided, Trent gently removed his fingers, leaving you feeling sensitive and sated. He picked you up and brought you up to the bedroom, his eyes locked on you, your chest heaving as you came down, kissing his neck "Get on the bed f’me, baby," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. "I want to taste every inch of you." And so you did as he asked, your body still buzzing from the intensity of your climax downstairs. You laid back on the soft sheets, your eyes never leaving his as he stood before you, his erection straining against his trousers. With deliberate movements, Trent undressed, revealing his toned, sculpted body. He pulled his shirt over his head and your jaw slacked as his muscles flexed. Your mouth went dry as you took in the sight of him, his cock thick and hard, straining towards you. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your thighs, his eyes smoldering with hunger. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his hands caressing your inner thighs, spreading you open. "I'm gonna eat you out until you beg me to stop." You nodded. You were borderline delirious. The first time you had to be quiet, you almost had to be quick before but so far… this had been a complete 180 from that and it was proving to somehow be even better. His head lowered, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. He teased you, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs, kissing over the faded remnant of his last visit to your core, making you squirm with anticipation. Finally, his tongue found your aching clit, flicking and swirling, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"Oh God, Trent," you moaned, your hands threading to grip his hair, holding him close. "Your mouth feels so good. Don't stop, please." He chuckled against your skin, his smugness palpable but you didn’t care, the vibrations sent shivers down your spine, it felt too good. 

"You taste so sweet, baby. I could do this all night." His tongue delved deeper, penetrating your wetness, licking and sucking, driving you wild. You were lost in a haze of pleasure, your body responding to his every touch. His fingers joined his tongue, thrusting into your tight hole, stretching and filling you. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, please, baby!" you cried out, your hips bucking against his face. Trent's mouth and fingers worked in perfect harmony, driving you to the brink of another mind-blowing orgasm. Trent could feel his cock getting so hard from hearing and watching and making you cum. He was almost about to explode himself but he needed to experience it again. He was obsessed. 

"Cum for me again, baby," he urged, his voice muffled against your flesh. "Let me feel you squeeze around my fingers. Be my good girl again." Your body obeyed, the sensations overwhelming you as you tumbled over the edge once more. Your cries filled the room as your pussy clenched and spasmed around his invading fingers. As your tremors subsided, Trent slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving you breathless and spent. He rose above you, his cock poised at your entrance, ready to claim what was his. "You're so fucking responsive, baby. I love how you cum for me." You reached up, running your hands over his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath your touch. 

"I need more of you, T. Please, I need you inside me. I want to make you cum now, baby." You told him as he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock teasing your wetness.

"Tell me what you want, baby. I want to hear you beg." Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but your desire overrode any inhibitions. 

"Please, T," you pleaded, your voice thick with need. "Fuck me, hard. I want to feel you deep inside me. I want to be a good girl for you.” Your words went straight to his cock. He smiled deviously and with one swift thrust, he slid inside,  filling you completely, in your lustful haze forgetting condoms existed. Your eyes widened at the sensation of his thick shaft stretching you, taking you by surprise. "Oh my God," you gasped, your body adjusting to his size. 

"You like that, huh?" he grunted, his voice strained. "You love my cock inside you, don't you, baby?"  You nodded, unable to form words, your body already building towards another climax. Trent began to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each stroke hitting your sweet spot you’d never known before. “Take my cock. That’s it.” He growled, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for his possession. The pleasure was intense, each thrust sending sparks of ecstasy through your body. You matched his rhythm, your hips rising to meet his, your breasts bouncing with each impact. 

"Oh fuck, baby. You’re so deep." you chanted, your nails digging into his back, marking him as your own. Trent's eyes rolled back as he pounded into you, his control slipping with each thrust. Your mind turning to mush. You couldn’t think of anything else but the roll of Trents hips. Each thrust clouding your mind more. His lips coming to kiss and suck on your exposed collarbone. 

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby. I want you to cum on my cock. I need to feel you– Fuck!” Trent grunted. You were wrong the first time, that wasn't the best sex either of you had ever had… this was. Your body was on fire, your pussy clenching and milking his shaft, desperate for his release. 

"Cum inside me T," you begged, your voice hoarse. “I want you to fill me up, please." You whined. His thrusts starting to become sloppier.  Hearing you say that made his mind go blank. He tried to ask you ‘what?’ Or ‘are you sure?’ But he couldn't process what you were saying. It turned him on too much to even think straight. “Please, I need you. I want to feel you cum.” You demanded wrapping your legs around his waist tighter, holding him to you. 

“Baby…” Trent grunted, not sure what to do. He felt like he was glitching; he couldn't process both minds. 

“I’m on birth control, please T… Do it, baby. Please.” You whined pathetically. It’s all you could think about. It’s all you wanted. You wanted to feel him. So you clenched around him and he moaned. He reached down between your body’s to rub your clit in sync with his rough pace. 

“Yeah? Alright, I’ll give you what you want, baby.  I’m gonna… fuck…” He babbled through words. You nodded as the knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter. 

“Oh fuck…” You whined as he hit your g spot again and again relentlessly. You gripped his biceps, nails leaving crescent marks on his tanned toned arms. 

“Doing so good, baby. I got you. I’m gonna cum. Shit! Squeezing me so fucking tight.” He grunted still thrusting into you as his abs tensed. His eyes rolled back a little with deep breaths. He let out a guttural roar as he plunged deep, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself inside you. Wave after wave of his hot cum filled your depths, triggering another earth-shattering orgasm within you. Your body quivered as your pussy tightened around him. Your bodies convulsed together, locked in a blissful embrace as pleasure consumed you both. He slowed almost to a halt as his cock pulsed inside your warm pussy. He pumped you full of his cum, painting your insides. He caught your lips with a sweet kiss.  As your tremors subsided, Trent collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He turned towards you though just in time to see your eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "You okay? Did so good f’me. You were incredible, baby.” He kissed your temple pulling you tight to him. He smiled, his eyes full of affection. You hummed but couldn’t get any words out just yet, completely spent. You snuggled closer, your fingers tracing the contours of his face.  He captured your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm. Trent kissed your forehead and rolled off the bed. “Stay right there f’me. One minute” He cooed softly.

“You’re perfect,” You giggled quietly as Trent returned with a warm towel gently wiping up your thighs and sensitive core. He was so soft as he worked his way around, cleaning you up, leaving kisses on your warm skin after it was wiped clean. He laid down next to you and you just stared at him appreciatively. 

“Okay… all good, baby?” He tenderly asked. You nodded, pulling him into you. As you lay there, entwined in each other's arms, you knew that this night had changed everything. The secret you shared would bind you together, and the passion that ignited between you was burning brighter than ever before.

Naively, you hadn't exactly anticipated waking up naked and tangled in your brother's best friend's sheets after the club, feeling the steady rhythm of Trent's heartbeat under your cheek. As reality set in, you let out a quiet groan, a mix of bliss and uncertainty. You really liked Trent, but what were you both doing? What were you thinking? Sure you didn’t kiss at the club but anyone could've seen you together last night. Not to mention what happened in the privacy of Trent’s bed last night. This wasn't fair to Jack. Yet, the warmth of Trent's arms around you made it hard to think of anything else. Then suddenly you could feel those gorgeous brown eyes fixed on you. 

"Stop staring at me," you giggled sleepily, sensing Trent's gaze on you as you lay draped across his chest.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his fingers tracing light circles on your bare back, pulling you from every nagging worry.

"Stop," you muttered shyly. "Also, you've 100% seen me sleep before..."

"Not like this," he replied, his voice soft but teasing. "Not in my bed, not on top of me, not naked... definitely not after we had sex." His smirk made you both laugh and blush, but you didn't pull away.

"Did I live up to your expectations?" you teased, hiding a bit of genuine curiosity.

"Surpassed them," he whispered, tilting your face to look at him. "From the first kiss," he added, his eyes warm, making you feel seen in a way that felt new and thrilling. You cuddled closer, sighing into his warmth, a quiet, affectionate 

"My T..." escaping your lips in a soft murmur. Trent's lips curled into a smile. 

"Yeah? Yours now?” He teased as a wave of embarrassment and surprise washed over you. You felt the urge to pull back, realizing what you'd just said. You felt it, you felt he’d been yours for forever but now with your arms around him it felt more real. You just regretted saying it aloud massively.  But before you could say anything more to backtrack, he beat you to it. "Good. I like that." His voice was a gentle reassurance, grounding you in the moment. You couldn't help but smile, pressing closer into his embrace, thinking that maybe-just maybe-this was worth all the risk. You stayed in bed, savoring the lingering warmth and thrill of the night before, feeling like you were tangled up in the best and most complicated decision of your life. Trent stretched beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. He groaned, dramatizing his soreness. 

“I gotta run to training, baby,” he murmured, sitting up, his voice hesitant. “But you know, like… where stuff is, or… I don’t know,” he added with a shy laugh, glancing over at you.

“It’s fine,” you assured him, trying to mask the slight guilt you felt for even being at his place. “I can let myself out.” You shyly told him. But Trent shook his head, looking at you earnestly. 

“Nah, I don’t mean that. I meant…” He paused, then took a deep breath. “If you want, you could… hang out, y’know? Till I get back.” A small, hopeful smile played on his lips. He wanted more than just a hook-up, but he also didn’t want to push you too much, too soon. There was a fine line here. You knew each other so well already so it was hard to find the right medium. 

“Okay…” you replied softly, rolling over and nuzzling deeper into his bed, feeling the comforting scent of him on the sheets. It was the softest, most comfortable place you’d ever been, and every inch of you wanted to stay wrapped in that feeling. Trent leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade, lingering just a moment. He rested his forehead there, warm and content. The quiet promise hung between you both, and when he finally pulled away, the smile on his face mirrored your own. This was everything you’d ever dreamed of.

That night and the following day made everything very real for you. You would text but it was tense. Not in a negative way, just in a dangerous way. It was flirty but cautious. Neither of you knew what the other wanted out of this. It was insane you were doing this, risking it all, but it felt far too forward to just jump into something like dating. It was hard not to wonder if this was all just a physical thrill for him. He could get any girl, so why just use you for that… But in any case you weren’t exactly going to stop him. The two times you had sex were the best of your life. The days after would unfold in a series of stolen glances and held-back smiles, a mix of excitement and uncertainty hovering between you and Trent. Now that you both knew how good the sex was, you made sure not to spend too much time alone, knowing full well how easily things would spiral. Whenever he’d text you something cheeky, it’d leave you grinning and tense all at once. The messages bounced back and forth, his words flirty but guarded, your responses mirroring the same cautious playfulness. Both of you circled around what you wanted, but neither quite daring to define it. The tension simmered, unspoken questions lingering. Did he just want something physical? Was this a fling, or was he holding back for the same reasons you were? A small part of you worried, wondering if he saw this as a thrill, something exciting but ultimately fleeting. But another part of you couldn’t let it go—not when the chemistry felt this real, this undeniable. Not after some of the things he’d said to you. So you found yourself slipping further into it… into him, savoring the anticipation, not ready to pull back even as you held on tightly to the ‘what ifs.’ For now, neither of you were stopping, and maybe that was all that mattered.

One evening, you returned home from a dinner with friends, laughter still lingering on your lips when you saw him there…Trent, perched at the kitchen island next to your brother, Jack. The ease you'd felt moments ago fizzled into something else entirely, a mix of excitement and nerves. You hadn't expected him to be here tonight, and the realization set off a charge between you that felt impossible to ignore. Trent's eyes found yours the second you walked in, and you saw something flicker in his gaze. The cocky confidence he usually wore so easily faltered; he swallowed, letting his eyes flutter closed for just a second, as if seeing you threw him off balance. He knew he should've texted to give you a heads-up, but he didn't know the rules any more than you did. Were there rules at all? There had been no conversations, no ‘what are we doing’ talks, only late-night touches and whispered promises that lingered like secrets. Now, here he was, in your space again, and the unspoken tension between you felt all the more real with Jack in the room. 

Jack was hunched over, engrossed in a tub of ice cream as he scooped out of it directly with a spoon, clearly settled in the comforts of his own home. You walked over and playfully swiped a bit off the lid, the cold against your finger a welcome distraction as you licked it off. The whole time, you could feel Trent's gaze tracking every movement, his stare so intense you almost felt heat radiate off him. When you glanced up, his eyes were fixed on you, almost as if willing himself to look away. You sucked on your finger pretending to be innocent purring a ‘yum.’ He shut his eyes briefly, as though watching you was more than he could bear. Once the ice cream was cleanly off your finger and you knew Trent was locked in you casually peeled off the sweatshirt you had on, too aware of the way your shirt underneath it clung to your frame and you wanted to show him just that. As you pulled the jumper over your head, the fabric of your top underneath rose up, you watched as Trent's jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to the bare skin revealed beneath the hem. He mouthed ‘stop; at you, his eyes pleading, though his lips hinted at a smirk, like he was caught between amusement and frustration. You couldn't help but return the smirk, leaning into the innocence of the moment while savoring the effect it had on him. As you moved to brush past Trent's kitchen island stool, your hand slid against the cool countertop, steadying you as you sent him a flirtatious look. Jack, completely oblivious but mildly annoyed by your stealing swipe, reached for the ice cream tub and turned to walk back over to the freezer to put it away with a small grumble. Tren wasn't having your teasing though. As Jack’s back turned, his hand shot out, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer with enough possessiveness to make your breath catch. His fingers pressed into your side, holding you in place as he leaned in, his voice low and rough against your ear.

"Stop it," he whispered, his words a command masked in a tease, his breath hot against your skin. His smirk was still there, but you could sense he was barely keeping his composure. You swallowed, feeling his grip tighten ever so slightly, each inch between you charged with electricity. “Thought you liked being a good girl f’me?” His voice was soft, teasing, and you felt his fingers flex against your waist. He chuckled under his breath. His fingers slid from your waist just as Jack shut the refrigerator door, your cheeks flushed as you stepped back, trying to steady your breathing and maintain the playful pretense. But the truth was, every touch, every glance was unraveling the control you'd both been clinging to. Jack turned back around, oblivious once more, but you and Trent exchanged another look, the kind that said everything you couldn't out loud. The thrill was undeniable, but beneath it all was a question that neither of you wanted to ask-was this just a game, or was there something more? And with Jack so close, both of you knew one thing: the stakes were only getting higher.

You headed up to your room, turning down the invitation to join Jack, Trent, and their friends who’d since come over for another movie night. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, but being in the same room as Trent right now—so close, yet unable to act on how you felt—seemed like torture. And in addition to that torture you couldn’t do this to Jack. The touches in the kitchen were already unfair. Not in his own home. You needed space to cool down, away from the tension that always sparked whenever Trent was near. But once upstairs, your phone buzzed. It was Trent, and just seeing his name on your screen made your heart race.

The message read, casual but with an undertone you couldn’t quite place. You smirked, already forming a response in your head.

You replied, keeping it short and sweet, trying to play it cool. You didn’t want him to think you were avoiding him, even if part of you was.  Seconds later, another buzz. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was a little inside joke between you two. Trent always teased you about your habit of talking through films, but secretly, you knew he liked your commentary and questions. And now, you definitely knew he liked your company. Your fingers hovered over the screen as you typed out a response, trying to ignore how giddy you felt.

His next message came in almost immediately, and it stopped you in your tracks. 

Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to read it twice just to make sure you weren’t imagining things. Was he really asking what you thought he was asking? You stared at your phone, biting your lip as a wave of nervous excitement washed over you. This wasn’t a casual hangout invite—it felt like something more. Something you’d both been skirting around for too long. Your mind raced as you considered how to respond, trying to balance your excitement with the need to not come off too eager. You didn’t think it was a date but it was hanging out alone and not some sort of drunk lustful afterthought. 

You finally typed, keeping your tone light, though inside, your pulse quickened. You didn’t want to give away how much this meant to you—not yet. You were relieved Trent’s reply came fast.

You flopped back onto your bed, covering your face with a pillow to muffle the excited squeal that escaped your lips. Your legs kicked the air as your mind raced. Was this really happening? The thought of being alone with him, away from prying eyes, sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite suppress. You typed out your next reply, trying to keep your cool. 

You typed feeling mildly braver.

Trent texted back, simple, direct, and flirty… and perfect. All of it somehow made it even more exciting. You tossed your phone onto the bed, rolling over as a grin spread across your face. You couldn’t even play it cool on the outside, inside, you were buzzing but your texts read calm… at least you hoped they did. Regardless, Trent and you had just decided the line was officially gone and you couldn’t wait to see what happened now.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 5 - Together or Apart xx

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Help Me Hold Onto You

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (Ended relationship)

Setting: Alexandria after 6 year jump

Warnings: Angst, More angst, No happy here, mentions of pregnancy

Summary: Daryl comes back after his 6 year absence to talk to you. He receives quite the shock.

A/N: Feeling blah. Needed to channel negative energy. Sorry!

Moodboard by @dannyo000

Daryl gnawed on the skin of his thumb while staring at the edge of the crop rows. Michonne had told him you would be there and that he should really go see you. She was, in fact, rather insistent. He nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot. Would you even want to see him? Things hadn’t exactly ended amicably when you had stumbled upon him with Leah. Even allowing the other woman’s name to occupy his thoughts for a mere second brought an onslaught of guilt and self-loathing. He had been caught in a moment of weakness, not putting a stop to Leah’s advances when it was your lips he craved. 

Idiot. With a heavy sigh, he trudged forward, scanning over the individuals hard at work maintaining the surplus of crops in the community. It was your hair he noticed first, no longer flowing wildly down your back but cropped off just below your shoulders. His eyes studied the visible skin below the spaghetti straps of the sundress you were wearing. He had always envisioned you in a dress. It was not the right color and looked to be a little longer than the one his imagination supplied, but it was hard to tell while you were kneeling in front of the tomato plants. 

The familiar spread of freckles were shining with a sheen of sweat from work in the midday sun. With narrowing eyes, he took in the way your shoulder blades seemed more pronounced and your arms were much slimmer than the last time he saw you. He could see the muscles flex beneath your skin as you dug in the soil. Even from his limited vantage point, you appeared—frail. 

Forced to steel his nerves, he stepped closer, only coming to a stop when a few feet separated you. “Hey, Y/N.” The archer eyed you carefully, even took a step back when your movements froze and a visible tension seized across your body. 

“What are you doing here, Dixon?” 

Your cold tone forced his heart to freeze and drop into his stomach, twisting a knot that made him nauseous. What the hell had Michonne been thinking? Daryl closed his eyes briefly, inhaling through his nose. Words were failing him, any and all logical responses lost in the tension. “How, uh—how are ya?” 

“Fine. You done?”

You had yet to move, to even look at him. He had definitively fucked this up royally. One kiss—a kiss he neither wanted nor reciprocated—had destroyed this precious relationship that had taken years to build. The archer sighed. “No. M’not.”

You stood then—with quite a bit of difficulty, he noted—but kept your back to him. “Just save it. I’m not interested.” Your gardening gloves were peeled from your hands and tossed roughly to the dirt. “Unless you’ve got other business here, you can go.” He watched you pivot away from him, but he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. 

“Damnit, woman, m’tryin’ to fix this!” Daryl was careful not to raise his voice, to not be so quick to anger; something he was still learning to control after all these years. 

Your steps halted, eyes hesitantly peering back at him from over your shoulder. Pale skin gave way to dark circles around dull orbs. You really didn’t look well. He opened his mouth to inquire and was quick to close it when those same eyes narrowed angrily. 

“There’s nothing to fix, Dixon.” 

It was more than clear that you didn’t want him there. He could feel the anger permiating the air in waves, the knot in his gut twisting tighter. He was treading dangerous ground. He could push you, say what he needed to say and hope for the best. Or he could obey your wishes and go, maybe try again in the future. Maybe not. 

You were still watching him as the breeze picked up, cool but not chilling the early autumn air. He was still weighing his options when your shorter hair blew to the side and revealed the back of your neck. Light reflected off a silver chain there and hope rekindled in his chest. You were still wearing the necklace he had gifted you during one of your nights on the riverbank. 

“Y/N, I—”

You rounded on him so quickly that he stumbled back a step, hands out in a placating manner as you reached for him and shoved him back further. “You stupid, selfish, cowardly pig! How dare you! I can't believe you came here now with this shit!” Your shoves continued but Daryl had stopped blocking, taking each hit with an unreadable expression. You stopped, breathing heavily, and stepped back to throw up your arms in exasperation. 

“Y/N.” It was almost a whisper, so quiet and full of emotion that if you hadn’t been so angry with him, you would have gathered him into your arms and never let go. 

But you were angry. “What?” You bellowed. “What do you want?” 

Daryl couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His heart was slamming a tattoo into his ribs. The world around him was blurry, voices fuzzy like being underwater. Except yours. Except you. The archer finally managed to bring you into focus, just as realization of what you had revealed became evident on your pale face. 

Yes, you did indeed look thin and sickly but that wasn’t why Daryl couldn’t seem to look away. He couldn’t even seem to blink. Your dress, loose as it was, still managed to hug your swollen stomach. The bump was not large but still evident, your small hands now twisting into the fabric of the dress nervously. 

His mouth moved but he couldn’t force his voice to work, so he clamped his lips shut. The anger was still evident in your expression, and he somehow noticed that you were trembling but he couldn’t look away from the area beneath your fisted hands. 

“How?” Daryl heard the words but didn’t remember speaking. “Ya said ya couldn’t—”

“Does it matter?” 

“S’it—” he shifted uncomfortably, pointing and withdrawing only to point again. “S’it mine?” Daryl finally forced his gaze away from your belly to lock eyes with you. It wasn’t long before your anger dissipated and morphed into something else, tears springing to your lashes. “Y/N.”

You flinched but he needed an answer and he needed it now. 

The people had heard the commotion and hushed whispers were hissing all around the two of you. Daryl could see Michonne from the corner of his eye. She had kept her distance but had apparently wanted to stay in the vicinity in case things got heated. The archer couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t still end that way. 

“It is.” You finally acknowledged, inciting a collective gasp from the onlookers. Your hands had dropped to your sides to take up twisting the fabric there. 

Michonne stepped forward after a few more unnerving moments of silence, motioning toward the small crowd that had gathered. “Okay, everyone! Nothing more to see! Let’s get back to work!” 

The two of you remained stoic as the people dispersed back to their activities, neither moving a muscle even as Alexandria’s leader stepped up to plant herself between you. “I think this should continue somewhere a little more private.” When neither indicated you had even heard her, Michonne leaned into Daryl’s line of sight to catch his eye. He seemed to snap out of his trance and gave a jerky nod. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” You replied quietly when the same was done to you. You swayed a little when you took the first step. Only through sheer force of will did Daryl not reach out to steady you. It didn’t matter. Michonne had already taken hold of your upper arm. 

“Can you make it there?” The sword-wielder asked with obvious concern. “I can end this right now.”

A rush of panic surged through the archer’s chest, nearly suffocating him where he stood. What was wrong with you? Was something wrong with the baby? His baby? “I’ll make sure she’s alright.” With a deep breath, he stepped forward and reached for you, careful not to touch. Neither of you needed that right now. His hand hovered as Michonne held fast. 

“Y/N?” The other woman questioned. You only spared Daryl a glance before facing your friend and nodding. Michonne returned the motion and let go to step back out of the way. Just as you started to leave, Daryl staying close by, Michonne called out his name. It was a clear warning. 

Take it easy on her.

He nodded without looking back and continued to follow. The community looked so different compared to his last visit. The rebuilt homes were less alluring, most having been constructed on top of anything that had been left of the previous structure. The place still had its appeal but it gave off more of a farmland vibe now than a prestigious community. 

The tension had seemed to fizzle out along with your energy. You walked slowly at his side, shoulders slumped and head down. Your face was hidden by a curtain of hair when he risked a sidelong glance. Daryl half wondered if you were even paying attention to where you were leading him. Just as he opened his mouth to ask, you pivoted to the left and crossed in front of him to ascend the few steps of a porch. He followed close behind but chose not to hover. You pulled open the screen door and pushed the main door inward, letting the first slam closed behind you. You had left the other open, for him, he assumed, but it felt wrong to just walk in.

Daryl pulled a cigarette from his vest pocket, along with a book of matches. When the tip had sizzled down and the first draw of smoke entered his lungs, he shook out the match and laid it on the small table next to a chair. Forgoing the obvious seating, the archer hopped up onto the railing and stared into the house. He couldn’t see you but could hear you moving around. You hadn’t come to investigate yet so you had to know he was still there. 

Daryl finished his cigarette and stamped it out on the porch, crossing the two steps to the door. The uneasy feeling was still there. It weighed heavily on him that he couldn’t just walk in like he would have before Rick—

Clearing his throat to swallow down the new flood of emotion, he raised a fist to tap on the screen door with his knuckles. You appeared from around a corner at the end of a short hall, briefly locking eyes with him. Averting your gaze, you jerked your head to invite him in. 

The home was simple inside, all mismatched furniture and mostly bare walls save for your handheld crossbow hanging next to the door. Looking for too long felt intrusive, so he lowered his eyes to the floor and proceeded down the hall and into what turned out to be the kitchen. 

You were standing there, on the opposite side of a small island with one hand wrapped around a glass of water. The other hand was sitting atop your rounded belly, mostly hidden from where he now stood. 

A few awkward moments passed with Daryl staring at the part of your hand he could see and you watching him uneasily. “Where’s Dog?”

The archer’s eyes slowly raised to your face, where he found he couldn’t seem to keep them. Leaning against the side of the refrigerator, he began to pick at his palm. “Jude’s got ‘im.” You nodded and took a sip from the glass. More silence followed before Daryl couldn’t wait any longer for the answers he felt so strongly he was owed. “How long?”

“What?”

He didn’t really feel like repeating himself but if he wanted you to answer, he’d have to be willing to communicate past the unsettledness. “How long ya known?”

Your lips formed a small “o” and you nodded. “About three months, I guess.” Your fingertips busied themselves tracing shapes on the countertop.  

“An’ ya never thought to come tell me?” There was an edge of agitation to his voice. Hell, he was agitated. 

“Oh, I thought about it plenty of times.” You snapped, expression hardening when he looked up to meet your eyes. Your hand was wrapped so tightly around the water glass that it was a wonder it hadn’t yet shattered. “But then I always seem to remember that you have plenty of things to occupy your time.”

Daryl wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what you meant. “Ya don’t even know whatcha saw that day.” It was taking some serious control to keep his tone level now. Everything inside him screamed that this would not end well but he pressed on anyway. “Ran away an’ didn’t even gimme a chance to explain.”

“I saw plenty, Dixon!” You wisely pushed the glass away from yourself. “That woman’s tongue down your throat! You wanna explain though? Go ahead! Explain!” You hissed, rounding the island. You stopped yourself a few feet from him. “Who is she?”

Daryl was listening as he worked hard to keep himself in check. His temper was itching to flare. “Name was Leah. She’s not ‘round anymore, Y/N.”

“So sad for you, I’m sure.” You mocked, crossing your arms. “So what is this? She left you so you thought you could just come back here and we’d pick up where we left off?”

“S’not like that.” Daryl sighed. He straightened his stance and dared a step forward, his heart nearly sinking when you stepped back. “There weren’t never nothin’ with ‘er.”

You seemed to consider that, your eyes almost seeming to shake back and forth to hold his gaze. “It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head and started to turn away but the archer quickly crossed the distance between you to lay a hand on your shoulder. Your skin was so cold. You both stared at his hand before he quickly removed it. 

“Y/N, I—I stayed away cause I didn’t think ya’d wanna see me.”

“You were right.” You answered quietly after a few moments. His heart sank. “I didn’t. And I don’t.” You did walk away then but stopped in another doorway, keeping your back to him. “I won’t keep you from your kid, Dixon. They’ll need their father.”

Daryl swallowed hard, feeling a familiar sting in his eyes. 

You reached out to place your hand on the doorframe. You looked tired. “I’m due in the winter. You can be a part of this, as much or a little as you want.” You took a step into the room and paused again. “That day in the woods, when I saw you with her—I was coming to tell you about the baby.”

And then you were gone. 

The archer sniffed, forcing back the fierce assault of emotion that threatened to take him to his knees. He wiped furiously at his eyes with each arm and paced to one side of the kitchen and then back. He couldn’t leave it like this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This isn’t what he saw when he would envision your future. It was all wrong. Daryl looked to the door where you had been and took a step, his body freezing afterward when he remembered Michonne had made it clear he shouldn’t upset you. 

Clenching his fists, he spun toward the hall and all but ran out the door, slamming it closed behind him. 

[saintundying]

What is your HC about Daniel being a bad father? I love your takes btw!

thank you lol sorry for the times i don't think before hitting post

daniel's life is a cycle of addiction. he seems to have had absentee parents who also struggled with substance abuse. he recreated his childhood, just like armand said he would. his entire focus is on his career, which is another vice. he shows no regard for his safety, and we know this extends to his kids, as indicated by the car seat memory. oh, speaking of, i read the car seat memory as daniel trying to be open about throwing his kid into some unknown car to score drugs and then softened it by going "well, she was in a car seat safe" and his editor went "no, she fucking wasn't lol"

they imply he's clean now, but he's nursing alcohol almost every time he's on screen and chasing this book. man, armand in 2022 reads daniel's addictions like a book, and we've been told he was in only in his head for some four days when he was twenty. i have empathy for him but he’s a tornado.

daniel is vengeful and always needs to be right to the detriment of others. his daughters likely grew up in a household watching their mother(s) endure an onslaught of verbal abuse. they likely experienced it for themselves. he acknowledges he fucked them up, but never offers to relate with louis in this regard. if there's something to give lestat and daniel for a bonding experience, it's a malignant and regretful fatherhood.

i grew up as the child of an addict and i still struggle to cut the cord. he tells louis his daughters have gone no-contact, even knowing he's dying. do you know what has to happen to get to that point? i bet you he even called them up after being diagnosed to elicit some level of sympathy, and was really a selfish attempt to guilt them. i don't believe the daughters are calling him up going, "oh, poor dad, are you okay?” imagine losing their childhood to their father chasing highs, and now he’s going viral throwing a career away that ruined their lives for vampires. it'd likely make them sick and fuel their resentment even more.

he keeps his adult children's childish belongings shoved away in his closet because he never built new memories with them past the age of ten. they’re nearing their fifties. his one good contribution he can give them is 'dying' and getting that 10 mill in their inheritance.

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 31: Taking a Turn

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

After he left the hospital, Cillian tried to call Danielle but, as he had expected, she did not pick up the phone.

Following three attempts to reach her, he gave up and made contact with the bank in an attempt to figure out the make and model of the car that she had bought. After a lengthy exchange with an employee, he found out the name of the agency through which Danielle had purchased the car and after ringing them, he got the details he was hoping for. 

His heart sank as the make and model matched those of the car that had been following you and whilst he realized that Danielle was upset and hurt, he had never considered her to be a woman who could kill.

"Do you need any more assistance, sir?" the employee asked.

"No, that will be all. Thank you," Cillian muttered, cutting the call as a barrage of thoughts consumed his mind, conjuring a whirlwind of uncertainties, fears and danger.

He sat there, in his car, the engine humming in the background, and stared blankly out the windshield, contemplating his next move.

He knew he shouldn't jump to conclusions, but the evidence stacked against Danielle was enough to incriminate her.

He took a deep breath, unsure of what to do, conscious of the risk he was about to take.

Cillian pulled out his phone and dialed the first number that came to his mind. It was the phone number of his divorce lawyer, Ari, and whilst Cillian knew that Ari did not handle criminal cases, he was certain that he could provide him with some much-needed guidance.  After all, the situation he found himself in was as far from normal as it could be.

He couldn't believe that the woman he had once loved and admired had stooped so low and he knew that he had to tread carefully now. 

"Cillian," Ari's voice echoed through the speaker as he picked up the phone. "What can I do for you?"

Cillian took a deep breath, bracing himself for the onslaught of questions and concerns that were sure to follow. "Ari, I need your help," he began, his voice low and tense.

"Alright, tell me what's going on," Ari replied calmly, his tone level and measured and Cillian hesitated, unsure of where to begin, knowing that the revelations he was about to make would change everything. 

"It's Danielle," he admitted, his voice heavy with guilt and regret. "I think she has been following Y/N and I have reason to believe that she intentionally hit her before driving off," he continued, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Cillian could imagine the surprise and confusion on Ari's face.

"Y/N?" Ari asked, trying to recall your name. "She is the women you have been seeing, correct?" he then asked, still processing the information that Cillian had presented to him.

"Yes, that's her," Cillian confirmed. "She was hit by a car and is in hospital now with significant injuries, man. She could have died," Cillian told his lawyer with a shaky voice who sighed deeply before responding. 

"And you think that Danielle caused the accident, intentionally?" Ari asked, his voice laced with disbelief, though Cillian could hear the skepticism in his tone.

"That is a very serious accusation. Have you spoken to her about it?" he continued.

Cillian sighed, running a hand through his hair, leaving it in disarray, his composure crumbling. "She hasn't been answering any of my calls or messages," he admitted, kicking himself for not having done anything about his ex-wife's obsessive behavior sooner. "The car that hit Y/N is the same make and model she recently purchased  for our son," he added, anxiety tinging his voice.

"I see," Ari replied, his tone now more guarded. "Cillian, I understand that you're upset, but accusing someone of attempted murder is a very serious matter. Do you have any other evidence to support your suspicions?" he asked, seeking clarity.

Cillian sighed, frustration building up in his chest. "Apart from a series of threatening messages towards me, no, I don't. But I have a feeling that this is not a coincidence," Cillian replied, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

Ari sighed, taking in the information. "Okay, I hear what you're saying, Cillian. But we can't just go to the police with a hunch," he said, trying to reason with his client.

Cillian nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "You're right. I just...need to know that she's not going to hurt Y/N again," Cillian finished, his voice laced with desperation.

"She doesn't have a separate bank account yet and I can probably get copies of the statements for her credit card to see if it has been used in the past few weeks. If she did it, she would have had to be in London," Ari suggested, trying to help Cillian to figure things out. 

"If we can prove that she has been in London then maybe it is enough for the police to question her, but again, Cillian, I must insist that you tread carefully. It would be terrible for everyone involved if this turns out to be a misunderstanding and it would most certainly impact your divorce proceedings against her," Ari warned, concern coloring his voice.

Cillian nodded, understanding the weight of the consequences. "I understand," he told Ari who then told him that he would be calling him back in about an hour or so, after looking through the bank statements.

Cillian agreed and after hanging up, he didn't move an inch. He just sat there, his thoughts and emotions at war, his mind racing with a thousand scenarios, each more terrifying than the one before. 

As the minutes passed, the surroundings began to fade away until there was nothing left but the deafening pounding of his heart. It echoed painfully throughout his entire body, a painful reminder of his fears.

Eventually, he drew a shaky breath and forced himself back to reality.

Cillian cast a glance over his shoulder and out the window. The bustling streets of the city were a welcome distraction from the turmoil that raged within. The sun was beginning to set, brilliant hues of orange and pink painted the sky and cast long shadows over the buildings. He watched as people hurried to and from, pursuing their daily lives until, suddenly, the phone rang again. It was Ari.

"Cillian, I've got some news," his voice was serious, the tone of his voice reason enough to set Cillian's heart racing.

"Danielle has been taking frequent trips to London over the last month but she wasn't there on the day of the accident. She used her card in Dublin that day," Ari informed Cillian, his voice grave.

Cillian's heart sank as he took in the news. He was so sure that Danielle was the culprit and the fact that someone else could have hit you  made him feel slightly relieved and, at the same time, frustrated. He needed answers, and fast.

"There is something else I found though ," Ari continued, snapping Cillian back to attention. "There was a transaction on your account ending 0865 this morning for 189 pounds. It was a charge from CemClean, a car detailing business in Chelsea,"  Ari informed Cillian, the significance of the information not lost on him.

Cillian frowned, puzzled by the revelation. "I didn't go to Chelsea today," he wondered aloud, his thoughts racing as he tried to piece together the puzzle which is when, suddenly, he remembered that he had given his card to Max who wanted to catch a taxi back home from the hospital when he had left. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

[teymars]

Imagine reader giving birth to twins boys

they become 14YO, and they are famous in the clan as troublemakers and Neteyam and reader have to deal with them ..

Ah isn’t that CUTE!!!

THIS IS SUCH A CUTESIE IDEA !!

-no warnings, just some fluff, family dynamics & sweet Dad(dy)!Neteyam (also mentions of bullying + fights if that counts??)

Loud caterwauling blasted throughout the camp, reaching you and Neteyam from within your family-hut. You glanced at your mate, resisting the incredible urge to roll your eyes, there were only two possible candidates for the source of that noise.

“Pshh, I’ll go sort it out, again.” Neteyam sighed, chucking his hands up in defeat. He quickly rose from his spot next to you and hightailed it to the awaiting ‘crime’ scene. For the past few weeks, your twin 14 year-old sons had been causing fights consistently amongst the clan’s young trainees.

You crouched for a moment, subconsciously counting down the moments before your lover’s deep, authoritative voice boomed over the ruckus outside. “BOYS, GET OVER HERE!!” The scolding your two son’s were now receiving increased in volume as Neteyam dragged them both by the neck, back into your hut.

“Ma ‘Teyam-” he cut you off swiftly “How many times do I have to repeat myself to you two?? You can’t just go around fighting people!” Neteyam bellowed, his tail thrashing angrily behind him.

“Sorry, Sir. It was my fault.” Tsyalu, the youngest twin, piped up bashfully. He tried hard to avoid his fathers menacing gaze. “That’s bullsh- ugf’ come on bro, you and I both know Rahaylo deserved it!” The eldest, Myerìn, blurted without shame, barely managing to dodge using ‘foul language’ infront of both his parents.

“Enough, I don’t care wether it was ‘deserved’. Tsy, you have to stop taking the heat for this skxawng! And YOU-” Neteyam gestured to a smirking Myerìn “-need to quit causing trouble, you read me??” Both boys nodded silently before stalking off to different parts of the hut.

You had observed the scolding, originally aiming to hold back a chuckle of amusement, until something in Tsy’s gaze and the way he spoke left you irked. You sat quietly beside him, assisting in preparing the fruits for dinner. Thankfully neither him nor his brother had been injured in the skirmish, you noted.

“What is the matter, sweet child?” You cooed, stroking the side of his cheek as slight tears swelled in his defeated eyes. “It’s nothing, mama..” the boy assured you, trying to hide his face. “Don’t be silly Tsyalu, you can tell me what’s wrong.” You encouraged, faintly aware of your husband’s ears flicking in interest at your conversation, as he watched from his place by the fire-pit.

“Well, we only keep fighting-” he broke off in a quiet sob “-be-because Rahaylo has been bullying me..” Both you and Neteyam fell stock-still at his words, feeling an onslaught of guilt overcome you. “Yea, and Dad told us to stick up for ourselves, so we did.” Myerìn informed, rather nonchalantly. Neteyam looked almost shell-shocked, having realised the poor communication that led to all this.

He moved closer to where you and both your sons were now crouched, reaching down to rest a hand on each boy’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sorry, boy. I had no idea.. why didn’t you say anything about this though? Violence is not a good way to solve these issues.” Neteyam offered, sounding solemn. “I- we didn’t want you to think we are weak, we thought you’d be proud of us, because we are brave like you.”

“Oh, Tsy..” you whispered, feeling ashamed that your children ever had to feel that way. “I am proud of you, both of you. So is your mother.. we just don’t want to see you both fighting all the time.” Your mate assured them, providing both with a warm embrace. “It is okay to come to us when somebody causes you trouble, we will help you, I promise.” He continued, allowing you to curl up at his side, joining the family hug. They both hummed in understanding.

“We are pretty brave though, right Dad?” Tsyalu whispered. “Just like you?” Myerìn added, hopefully. “Of course you are! You’re the bravest little warriors this clan has ever seen.” You and Neteyam chirped, nuzzling both boy’s foreheads affectionately. The twins smiled contentedly, feeling relieved as they relished within their father’s hard-earned approval.

“Sooo, who won?” Neteyam mused, smirking at his sons pridefully. “Neteyam!” You chided, smacking the back of his head playfully.

“Oel ngati kameie, my sons.”

Sorry this is a little short, I hope it lives up to what you had in mind! 🤍

Neteyam be getting some insane flashbacks 😭

[yogurtkags]

❝ IF NOT FOR YOU ❞ — semi eita

— 02. sweet nothing

“they said the end is comin', everyone’s up to somethin', i find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings. outside, they’re push and shovin', you're in the kitchen hummin', all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'”

series masterlist | prev | next

“join us for a jam sesh later? we can show them the song, rest of the boys are going to be there.” the end of that sentence is laced with a tinge of bitterness, and eita likes to think that it’s hidden behind a forced cough and a minuscule amount of cellphone static.

he wants to show off what you’ve been working on because he’s proud, he always is, but as much as he refuses to admit it, he wants you all to himself just as it’s always been since the beginning. if inviting you over to band practice (“we’re not a band, we just play together sometimes and perform my songs at gigs”) with the guys is what it takes to see you, or hell, even just hear from you, he’ll make do.

the lyrics of the song are really sweet, he thinks it might be the first love song you’ve written fully. a part of him wonders what, or rather who, inspired you to write it, but perhaps it’s not his place to know. it won’t stop a part of him from wishing it was him though, and frankly he’s not sure what to make of that information just yet.

you had a rough skeleton of an idea for the instrumentals but pretty much gave him free reign with this one which he’s not going to say no to, making sure to sprinkle in a little bit of his own taste into it — heavier instruments are more of his forte, having countless alternative and rock musicians listed as his personal inspirations. the final product's a fine mix of you and him, perfectly balanced and no more of one or the other. he’s very proud of it, proud of you, as with everything that you do together.

his thumb hovers over the send button, the preview of his short voice message looping while he contemplates deleting it. it’s starting to get grating with how long it’s been going for, his pathetic voice doing nothing but making him overthink even more. he doesn’t know if he’s being presumptuous to imagine it but it seems like you’re... avoiding him?

it’s been more than a week with barely any texts or random voice memos, you're usually blowing up his phone with silly memes and song demos, or even as simple as asking how his day has been. nothing since the last time he came over and finished the song with you. he noticed something seemed up at the time but didn’t press, now the guilt eats at him for not at least trying to ask. you always did keep your troubles to yourself, preferring to handle them on your own and keeping him in the dark about it until it either got too much and eventually bubbled past the surface, or fizzled over and only coming out casually in conversation once it’s a thing of the past. but who's he to judge, he's not any better.

maybe he’s reading too much into it, you’ll tell him with time as you always do, right? maybe he’s blowing it out of proportion, maybe you just had a bad day before seeing him, or you’re just tired, or— enough, now i’m just overthinking again.

finally releasing his bottom lip from the onslaught of his teeth, he bites the bullet and hits send, tossing his phone on his nightstand. as he lays back down on the stiff mattress, the arm thrown over his face shields the glaring sunlight breaming down on his face. it’s way too bright in comparison for the thoughts swirling in his head and with a sigh, he uses the foot hanging off his bed to tug the curtains close.

give her time, she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

i just hope she’s okay.

well shit.

the realisation that there even a slight possibility that you're in love with eita hits you like a splash of ice cold water to the face. you won’t lie and say that you didn’t have your suspicions, but it’s been just so long, brushing it off as the closeness of childhood friends. he’s your best friend, the first one you contact with good news, the first name that comes to mind when asked to invite a plus one, the first person you think of when you see those tiktoks of lovesick poems captioned “who do you picture when you read this?”, the list goes on.

in some way or another, this is what you always wanted, someone who understands your ins and outs and to spend your years with. eita was always the only option you’ve considered, but god you’re scared.

you feel a little sick to your stomach, the thought of it all weighing too heavily on your mind. there’s just too much at stake here, and you’re hell bent on not letting whatever the hell these damned feelings are jeopardise years of what you’ve built together. unknowingly in a similar spot, you find yourself curled up in bed, head swimming with worst case scenarios and make-believe narratives that say this is doomed for disaster.

light knocks on your door gently pluck you from the stirring storm in your head and with an muffled “i’m coming in!”, hitoka shuffles into your room and audibly coos at your deposition.

“hey, you left your phone out on the counter and it went off a couple times. i think semi messaged you too, thought you might want to see it.”

speak of the devil.

with a small smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching your eyes, you take your phone from her hand with a mix of gratitude and dread, “thanks hitoka. i- can i ask you something?”

“yeah what’s up? everything okay?” she sits by your side, her pretty, youthful features plagued with concern.

the posters on your wall suddenly seem like the most interesting things in the room, your eyes meekly darting around and refusing to meet hers. a wave of embarrassment washes over you from head to toe as you mull over your thoughts, collecting and trying to put them into words without sounding like a total idiot. this is stupid, you open your mouth for a moment and close it in the next, the words stuck in your throat and you’re already regretting bringing it up. you’re not ready for this conversation as much as you want to and it festers and grows and feeds on the seeds of doubt sprouting.

her small, smooth uncalloused hand closes over the back of yours in assurance and comfort, the small action causing a surge of peace and calm to flow through you, “it’s about him, isn’t it?”

nodding in shame, you hesitantly speak up, quietly, “hypothetically if i did have feelings for him—what if he doesn’t feel the same way? i won’t be able to look at him again.”

hitoka sighs dramatically, “first off, it’s a hundred percent not hypothetical who are you even kidding, surely not me. second, have you seen the way he looks at you? i’m surprised you haven’t caught on sooner.”

when you remain silent, she takes it as a cue to continue, squeezing your hand, “listen, i don’t know him as well as you do by a long shot, but i know feelings when i see it, and that man is very into you. and don’t even come at me with that ‘but we’re best friends’ bullshit, you don’t act that way with kenma and vice versa.”

you stifle a laugh at that last part, feeling a little tension release from your muscles after listening to her perspective. she’s nothing but truthful and supportive especially when it comes to anything (especially serious) concerning you and your heart swirls with warmth that you have someone like her to talk to about these things, the boys aren’t much help but you still love them dearly.

“i’ve been running away from him for days, i haven’t spoken to him since the last time he came over.” you mumble, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling, eyes fixed on the rotating fan and letting it blur in your vision as your hand still remains clasped in hitoka’s.

you feel the weight of guilt on your shoulders for shutting him out so abruptly, the sudden rush of feelings leaving you dumbfounded in its wake. your instinct was to hide and let it pass, hoping he wouldn’t catch on, but you never stopped to consider what it might look like to him. truthfully, the longest you’ve ever been apart was when your family went on holidays overseas, never if you could help it — you miss him.

remembering that he sent a message, you opened it up, letting the sound of his voice flit through the still air within your four walls. it sends a tingle down your spine and causes a soft involuntary smile to stretch across your lips, it’s like music to your ears.

“i swear to god, you two are disgusting.” hitoka lightheartedly complains as she rolls her eyes, getting up to leave you be. “go see your man before i throw up.”

“shut up, it’s not like we’ll be alone!” you retort, flipping her off as she’s shutting the door with a click, hearing a yeah yeah yeah echo down the hall.

taglist. open (link to form) @wyrcan @cheesypuffkins87 @peachyugoose @tetzoro

@twiishaa @samuel1004 @blueparadis

notes. hi it’s been a while since we've seen our two blindly lovesick pals :3 no fun facts this time, just a little filler chapter !! they’re so stupid and lovesick PLEASE— also band lineup in the next one ! big love to @mikiruie for beta reading < 3

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[purplesimmer455]

Later that night, Megan’s reading a romantic comedy about a woman named Morgan who’s a wedding planner living in LA. After she’s unintentionally caught in a situation that puts her career at risk and causes her to face an onslaught of hate on social media, she heads back to her small mountain town and ends up working to save her ex-girlfriend Rachel’s tree farm*. She gets up to the part where Rachel flirts with Morgan, causing the latter to become flustered and Megan to grin, when she gets a call from Iseul. She closes her book app, slips out of her bedroom so she doesn’t disturb Tess, and heads down the hall to the dining room.

Megan picks up the call. “Hey Issy.” She says, her voice a bit husky from sleep. “Hey Megs, sorry to disturb you. I had half a bottle of nectar and couldn’t sleep and I wanted to hear your voice.” Iseul says, her voice slightly tired and slurred. “I don’t mind, I couldn’t sleep so I was reading this cute Winterfest romcom about two women saving a small town tree farm.” Megan says and Iseul laughs. “Of course you were, Megs.” She says teasingly, her voice a bit more awake and playful. “So, is everything okay?” Megan asks gently. There’s a long pause. “No, Grace and I broke things off and she’s out with her friend Cara. I couldn’t do it, Megs, I can’t marry her when I’m in love with you.” She says before she can stop herself. “Is…” Megan trails off, her face flushing. “I know, I shouldn’t have said it.” Iseul says, and Megan can imagine her biting her lip and running a hand through her short hair. “Issy, I’m with Tess,” Megan says gently and Iseul sighs.

Megan sighs too, leaning against the kitchen door. “I know, Megs. I wish I wasn’t because I don’t want to come between you and Tess anymore than I have.” Iseul says, a note of guilt in her voice. “Iseul, I-I love you too but I have an amazing life and kids with Tess, and I’m happy,” Megan says, more for herself than for Iseul, and she hears Iseul sigh again. “I should go.” She says and Megan nods automatically. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you when I get back okay? Bye Issy,” she says softly and Iseul says bye to her. Megan jumps a bit as she sees her daughter Emily coming over to the dining room. She hopes Emily didn’t hear the conversation between her and Is, and thankfully Emily just smiles sleepily at her before heading to the kitchen to get water, and Megan heads back to her own room, her thoughts racing.

[feathered-mushrooms]

LOVE your thoughts on an X-MEN tv show! Would characters like Emma/Ororo/Wanda/Pietro/Lorna become a secondary cast as stuff moves on (aka this is my way of wondering if you would wanna do outfits for them lmao)

They absolutely would!

I imagine each season would have a theme. Season ones theme would be identity(the five finding themselves and what being a mutant means), and the second would be discovery. 

4 out of the 5characters you mentioned would be in season two, that being the magnet kids + our lovely goddess. Emma, I imagine would appear in season three. But there would be four new supporting cast members in season two and one new main character.

The first episode would tell two stories, one on Magneto and one on the X-men who are taking a trip to Cairo. Charles has given little explanation but leaves the kids to their own devices. Walking down a market street, Scott and Jean are enjoying themselves when a teen pickpockets Jean. She senses it due to her telepathy and we get a chase that quickly causes the sunny streets of Cairo to turn into a storm. 

That’s how we meet Ororo Monroe. She is brought to America, having been the reason for the trip and she becomes the sixth member of the X-men. Finally Jean has a friend that is a girl and their friendship gets to flourish. Ororo is a challenge for Scott because she isn’t quite ready to take orders and is a strong willed leader. They have to learn to work together but grow close on the process. She is a powerful force on the team and In contrast to the rest, doesn’t fully worship Charles as much as everyone else. Nonetheless she becomes part of the family. She even has a very brief romance with Hank who is having relationship issues with his girlfriend. Don’t worry she learns her self worth and drops him. 

Season one would hint that Magneto had a hidden goal, beside the obvious mutant supremacy stuff. The end of the season would show that this hidden journey would end with him at a secret government facility. That’s as much as season one would give, but season two would give the reveal that he has been hunting down Wanda and Pietro Maximoff to join his brotherhood. So they are introduced within the first episode as new villains(ish).

The twins have no idea Erik is their father. They feel indebted to him for their rescue from torture and experimentation and so they feel trapped and unable to leave. They do what he says because they are afraid. Erik knows but doesn’t know how to say anything. 

The twins are Romani and were raised Jewish per the request of their late mother Magda due to their fathers religion. They lived in Eastern Europe, traveling prior to being taken into the facility. 

Pietro is the over protective brother we all know and love. Full of snark and makes quip after quip, all a cover for his fear and guilt. He takes on as the ‘caretaker’ for Wanda as her powers become progressively more uncontrollable and her mental state worsens. They are both traumatized after their isolation but Peitro pushes it down and refuses to feel it. His sister needs him, only one twin can be hurt and his sister already is. Season two would be darker than season one now that mutants are exposed to the world and the world obviously does not react well, so Pietro reacts with anger towards this, much like his father. Additionally Pietro doesn’t experience time like everyone else and thus has an onslaught of ADHD and short tempers. Pietro is the over protective brother we all know and love. Full of snark and makes quip after quip, all a cover for his fear and guilt. He takes on as the ‘caretaker’ for Wanda as her powers become progressively more uncontrollable and her mental state worsens. They are both traumatized after their isolation but Peitro pushes it down and refuses to feel it. His sister needs him, only one twin can be hurt and his sister already is. Season two would be darker than season one now that mutants are exposed to the world and the world obviously does not react well, so Pietro reacts with anger towards this, much like his father. Additionally Pietro doesn’t experience time like everyone else and thus has an onslaught of ADHD and short tempers.

Wanda is like a fragile statue. She is made of stone but she is falling apart. The whole reason they ended up in the facility at all is because of Wanda was caught using her magic. She blames herself for their capture and she blames herself every time her powers hurt someone. For the majority of the season she is selectively mute and often in survival mode. Throughout the season Magneto pushes the twins to get more violent and leave less survivors, while Pietro is hesitant he is more willing, but Wanda is actively resistant, even though in the end she hurts more people than her brother. 

Lorna also makes an experience for a few episodes and helps usher in the plot line of the mutant underground. Lorna knows she’s Magento’s daughter, she has known since her mutation manifested and her mom confessed. The catch? Magneto does not know that she exists. She doesn’t care, she has given up on him. Lorna has experienced bullying and harassment since she was born due to her green hair. When her town found out she could control metal, they called her a freak. Out of anger an altercation occurred and the town decided to burn her house down. The problem? Her mom was in that house. Lorna was rescued and protected by mutants who informed her of the mutant underground. She then lived on this “underground” for most of her teenage life. This meant hiding, living in ware houses, and watching her friends die. 

Now she is one of the main leaders of the mutant underground and mostly covers the safety of younger mutants(the morlocks are apart of the underground and cover crazy physical mutations). She is scary and rather young compared to the other leaders but she is ruthless and protective. She gained the name “Polaris” for being the a guide for younger mutants and she would rather die than lose a kid she is protecting. 

Her “purpose” in the plot this season is to expose the x-men to the hard reality of being a mutant in this new world. Not everyone got to live in the comfort of a mansion and experience special education. She is especially a challenge made for Jean who has been apart of Xavier’s dream since forever, and thus has the hardest time listening to Lorna talk so poorly of the human race. They get in fights a lot and tend to be snarky with each other but after an episode and a half they learn to see each other. Jean’s perspective changes after Lorna and she starts to look critically at the world. Nonetheless Lorna is actually a badass and becomes an ally to the X-men.

A few other x-men would appear in this season through special episodes. All mutants who could be apart of the future team. I’m thinking mostly of Kurt, Piotr, Emma(less likely), Remy, and/or Banshee. However one would appear in 2 to 3 episodes. Logan would show up in an episode early in the season. Charles is on a solo mission, one he won’t involve the kids in, and runs into Logan. Logan looks younger(?) than we have seen him before but still his age is ambiguous. Logan offers a hand and Charles learns to trust this man as an ally. The two other episodes would be either Logan going on an adventure with Scott and Warren by accident, leading to him being a relationship counselor(in therms of the weird love triangle) for the two, or him meeting the twins and helping them realize they need to leave. Nonetheless he is an active member of the universe just not yet an X-man. 

In reference to our main five, lots are happening with them. The Scott, Warren, Jean thing is progressing…oddly. Warren hasn’t realize he likes Scott AND Jean and so he goes full in on competition for Jean. Scott is confused because he is realizing that he likes Warren and it’s all very confusing because is this guy flirting with the girl I like? Or is he flirting with me? Jean still hasn’t realized their feelings, but she is getting even closer with Scott. On a side note, Jean and Ororo act like they are dating to ick out the guys. They find it funny how mixed the reactions are every time. Bobby is getting better with his queerness. He came to terms with it internally last season and is growing the courage to come out. So he goes through that journey. We get the iconic ‘your gay bobby’ from Jean early on the season. She’s just happy he has figured it out. Hank is applying for college and is working hard to balance x-men and that but he struggles. Jean’s powers are growing very very strong. She also keeps having dreams about a bird on fire….hmmm….what could that mean?Warren’s family come back into the picture and he reconciles….kinda. Jean and Wanda end up alone very early on in the season during a fight. They have an understanding and become secret friends on the side. Jean assures Wanda that their will always be a place for Wanda at the mansion.

The big climax would be a magneto battle turned human battle. A conference for the leaders of the world made to discuss mutants, happens in Washington DC. Magneto attacks, X-men protect, but the humans turn on them, seeing both teams as the same. The x-men pull through and still are heroines but not everyone sees them like that 

This is the final push for two things:

The disbanding of the five. Hank has gotten accepted into a high class college and realizes he needs a break from being an X-man. Additionally Warren goes back home to do business college and try and take over his families company. Bobby has not graduated yet so he stays, and Jean and Scott both decide to go to the community college near the school + stay being students under Charles. Scott goes in undecided, Jean takes on nursing and psychology.

The school is officially opened. With the help of Lorna, the school is able to quickly fill, and more students come to fill the team. The new X-men team revealed at the end of the season are: Scott, Jean, Ororo, Bobby, Piotr, Kurt, although this team will quickly grow in season 3.

The final minutes of the final episode, Wanda would make up her mind and choose to leave. Peitro agrees but Magneto stops them. He reveals that he is their father. Peitro is shocked but warms up to the idea, Magento has already been a father figure for him, and Pietro who is feeling vulnerable, stays. Wanda can’t believe this, to her this changes nothing, and so Magneto let’s her go. Pietro fights and begs for him to force her to stay but Erik let’s his daughter go knowing deep down it’s the right choice. She goes to Xavier’s and finds Jean waiting for her outside, and inside Xavier waiting with a cup of tea. 

Wanda joins the X-men but as a student at the school. She is not ready to fight again….or is she?

And there we have it! An overview of season two. Emma would definitely show up in season three but I’m torn between two storylines for her. But oh dear lord I have been writing for three hours now. 

Thank you so much for the question! It meant to world to me to have received it!

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | 12 | S.R

Not my gif

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer and Maeve get into a heated argument moments before Daisy’s birthday party in which Spencer is finally forced to face his real feelings over his ex. You overhear more than you bargained for.

A/N - I don’t know if it was ever stated how old the Simmons kids were, if it was I certainly wasn’t paying attention. This was a guess.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - swearing, drinking, talk of cheating, arguing, confessed feelings, overheard conversations, tears, drunk Spencer, vomit, mommy JJ to the rescue.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 12 - Let it Hurt

Seven forty two in the morning,

Eight seconds before it all sinks in.

Put your best face on for the world,

Fake another smile and just pretend.

But you're just puttin' off the pain,

Nothing's ever really gonna change.

Spencer arrived at Rossi’s early and spent the entire morning slaving over decorations and readying the house for the onslaught of teenagers due to descend upon Rossi’s pristine mansion this afternoon. 

He was exhausted before the party even started. 

He hung banners and streamers from almost every inch of the ceiling. He set up a large table that took up most of his yard with food and paper plates. 

Rossi restocked his fridge with soda bottles from the garage and beers and wine for the adults. 

Spencer wrapped a ridiculous amount of presents, the divorced parent guilt making him spend an exuberant amount of money on his eldest daughter. 

JJ arrived a few hours before the party and rewrapped them all as she told him they looked like the dog had done it. 

They had around a half hour to spare once the house was set up. Rossi had retreated to his study to recoup before his house was flooded with teens. 

Spencer and JJ sat in his backyard, JJ indulging in a glass of wine while he had one small scotch just to take the edge off. 

He could see her staring at the side of his face while he sipped from the tumbler and eventually he sighed and turned to look at her.

“What?”

“You’re nervous.” She had that knowing glint in her eye. 

“You becoming a profiler was the worst thing that ever happened to me, do you know that?” His words caused her to laugh. 

“And now you’re deflecting.” She smugly sipped her wine. 

“My ex-wife and her boyfriend are going to be here today. My ex-wife who I haven’t spent more than a few minutes with since she moved out of our home. Of course I’m nervous. I’m kinda glad we decided to do it here actually, I couldn’t imagine her spending that much time in my house. The house she destroyed with her betrayal.” He finished his scotch but it didn’t help the way he’d hoped. 

“Has it ever occurred to you to move?” She cocked an eyebrow at him, regarding him curiously.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.” He confessed with another sigh. “I thought painting would help. I thought about asking Morgan to help me just gut the place. But changing the facade isn’t going to erase the memories that house holds.” 

“A fresh start would be good for you all. Especially with your blossoming new relationship.” JJ wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, leaning over and nudging his shoulder with her own.

“I don’t know about that.” He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s going to last with Y/N.”

“But she’s coming to the party? She’s going to meet your kids?” 

“Yeah that might have been an error in judgement.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t want it to end, it’s not like I actively want this to fall apart.” 

“So why do you think it's going to?” She frowned at him. 

“I’ve done the family thing. I don’t want to do it again.” He sighed deeply. “I told her I wasn’t sure if I’d ever want anymore kids but that wasn’t true. Jennifer, I don’t want more kids. Not now, not ever. I love Daisy and Lily with all my heart but I don’t want anymore. I don’t want to get married again, I don’t want any of it. I am crazy about her and I would happily spend the rest of my life with her. But marriage and more kids aren’t in my future. But they are in hers.” 

“Shit,” she sipped her wine. “Shit.” 

“Yeah.” He groaned, reaching across and grabbing her glass from her hand. 

She let him take it and watched him down the entire glass in one. 

“You don’t like white wine.” She rolled her eyes. 

“I do not.” He pulled a face as he swallowed. “That was disgusting.” 

“You’ve gotta talk to her, you know? Probably before she meets your daughters.” 

“That’s gonna be kinda hard don’t you think? What am I meant to do just wait by the door for her to arrive and turn her away? God I’ve fucked up, I need another drink.” He pushed himself up and JJ was quick to do the same. 

Before he could pass her towards the kitchen she grabbed his arm. 

“That is not a good idea.” She tugged him back. “You’re about to host a birthday party for your daughter, do you really want to be drunk for that?” 

“Yes?” He pulled a face with a shrug. 

“Trust me when I say you don’t.” She chuckled. “Maybe once the party is over and the kids have gone back to Maeve’s, but not right now.” 

He heaved a large sigh which told her he conceded even if he wasn’t happy about it. 

“Will you get drunk with me after the party?” He asked a little meekly. 

“Sounds like a date.” She smiled at him. “I’m sure we can even get the others on board.” 

“That would be good, I need that.” He nodded just as the doorbell rang. 

He checked his watch and frowned as he still had fifteen minutes until people were supposed to show up. 

“Why are people always early?” He grumbled, heading to the back door but once again JJ stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

When he turned back to her she was proffering a packet of mints his way with a small smile.

“You don’t want Maeve or the kids smelling wine on your breath.” She deposited one in his hand.

He nodded his thanks and popped the mint in his mouth as he continued through the back door and towards the front. 

When he opened the door she was smiling at him over a cake which was at least four times the size of his head. 

“You’re early.” He grumbled, stepping aside to let his ex in Rossi’s house. 

“I wanted to see what you’d done before the party kicked off.” Maeve followed him inside. 

“Didn’t trust me to throw my own kid a birthday party?” He huffed as they headed to the kitchen where JJ was fussing over some food in the oven. 

“Can we not do this today?” Maeve sighed as she set the cake on the counter. 

“Do what?” 

“The passive aggressiveness. Can you just take one day off from hating me so we can celebrate our daughter's birthday?” 

Spencer was going to argue, Maeve knew it and JJ knew it too. JJ came around the kitchen island and stood between the two of them. 

“Where is the birthday girl?” JJ intervened before Spencer could say anything. “Spence, take the cake out to the yard.” 

Spencer huffed like a child, JJ half expected him to stamp his foot. But he did as he was told and picked up the cake, retreating back outside. 

“Bobby took the girls for ice cream. They're going to head over in a bit. She actually believes we aren’t doing anything for her on her birthday.” Maeve giggled. JJ did not.

JJ not so secretly harboured a lot of ill will towards Maeve for the pain she’d caused her best friend. She didn’t try to hide it, didn’t try to pretend to like her. 

Even if Spencer wouldn’t admit how much Maeve’s infidelity had hurt him JJ could see right through him. And so she didn’t try to make a habit of hiding her disdain towards the other woman. 

“Ok.” She replied, heading back towards the oven to put another batch of party food inside. 

Maeve looked around uncomfortably, half wishing she’d come with Bobby and the girls and not on her own. Perhaps this whole party had been a terrible idea. 

Nonetheless she found herself gravitating towards the yard where Spencer was straightening place settings that didn’t need straightening just to avoid going back in the house and talking to her. 

He heard her step out onto the deck but refused to look up, instead kept focused on the table.

“The place looks great, Daisy is really going to love it.” She didn’t dare come closer, staying firmly on the decking.

“Glad you approve.” He scoffed. 

“Spencer,” Maeve sighed. “Is it too much to ask for you to be civil for one day?” 

His eyes suddenly snapped up at her, his movements halting. 

“Was it too much to ask my wife not to cheat on me?” He bit back. 

“I don’t know what else I can say for you to see how sorry I am. I tried to fix things, you’re the one who kicked me out. You’re the one who didn’t want to work on things.” 

“What was there to work on?” He raised his voice. “You were fucking another man behind my back for three years, Maeve! You really think we could have come back from that?” 

“I hurt you, I get it. And I am sorry for that, but at some point you have to get over it, Spencer!” 

“You didn’t hurt me.” He rolled his eyes. “You hurt Daisy. You hurt Lily. You didn’t hurt me.” 

The raised voices caught JJ’s attention. She sighed to herself as she set the oven timer, rounded the island once more and headed for the back door ready to break this up before the kids arrived. 

She got halfway across the kitchen when she heard a tentative knock at the front door. She glanced back towards it before looking back at Spencer and Maeve. 

Hopefully they could refrain from murdering each other while she answered the door. 

With any luck it would be Will and the boys and hopefully Henry and Michael could cheer up their uncle Spencer. 

She padded through the house towards the door as another gentle knock sounded. She unlocked it and opened it to see a slightly frightened young woman on the front porch. 

You rolled your lip between your teeth as you took in the stunning blonde opening David Rossi’s front door. 

Oh jeez, is that his ex? He never mentioned her being so pretty, you mentally cringed. 

She smiled a beautiful and heart stopping smile at you as she held the door open. 

“You must be Y/N?” She beamed, stepping aside. “Come in, please. Spence is in the backyard.” 

Your stomach was coiling into knots as you entered the house, feeling sick about this whole situation. Your hands shook at your sides. 

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.” Her bright blue eyes sparkled and you felt utterly intimidated.

“You…you have?” 

“Of course! Spencer can’t stop talking about you.” She laughed. “I’m JJ by the way.” 

You felt the lead weight in your chest loosen, like you could breathe freely again. 

JJ, she’s JJ. His friend from the BAU, not his ex-wife. Thank god.

“JJ! Sorry yes, Spencer has told me about you too. I’m sorry I thought you were his ex and it threw me a little.” You laughed too. “It’s so nice to…”

You trailed off when the sound of a woman yelling filtered through the house from the backyard. You and JJ exchanged a look as the shouting continued. 

“Uh, that’s his ex.” JJ sighed. “Excuse me, I should see what’s going on.” 

You watched JJ flee towards the back of the house and without really meaning to you followed her. Through the large open back doors you could see Spencer and his ex-wife in mid standoff. 

His back was rigid, his face was bright red, the vein in his forehead pushing wildly and he had his hands clenched into fists. 

Maeve didn’t look any more composed than he did, steam practically coming out of her ears. 

“I swear to god, Spencer, you are such a child sometimes!” Maeve yelled, throwing her arms in the air. 

“I’m a child? I’m a child?” He spat. 

You and JJ stayed in the kitchen, JJ not wanting to get in the middle of this but also not wanting things to get any worse. 

“Yes! You act like you’re fine and that my affair meant nothing to you but then you can’t be civil towards me for even a second. If it really meant so little to you then why do you have to behave like this?” 

“Fine,” he snapped like a frayed cord. “You hurt me, is that what you want to hear?”

“I didn’t say that.” Maeve sighed loudly. “I just wish you would-” 

“I would what? You wish I would, what? You hurt me, ok? You really fucking hurt me.” He cut her off, the pain she’d caused evident in his voice to all three of you. 

Your stomach tightened again, not wanting to be privy to this conversation and clearly neither did JJ. 

Maeve looked away from him, somewhere across the garden and her shoulders slumped. 

“I…I’m sorry Spencer.” She lowered her voice. 

“It’s too late for that. I loved what we had, I loved you! And you hurt me more than I ever thought it possible to be hurt. Are you happy now?” He shook his head angrily. “I wanted to pretend that you didn’t cut me up inside with what you did because it was easier to deal with. I act like I only care that you hurt the girls because if I have to dwell on the fact the love of my life was cheating on me for three years I may never make it out of bed in the morning! 

Goddamnit Maeve, you fucking broke me. You broke me, ok? I will never be the same because of what you did to me. So I’m passive aggressive towards you because if I’m not I might just break down every time I have to look at you. You broke me. You broke my heart.” 

As he said that you felt your own heart breaking. In your peripheral vision you saw JJ looking at you but you were staring right at the side of Spencer’s face. 

And when his first tear escaped, so did your own. 

“Y/N, I-” 

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” You cut JJ off. “I should go.” 

You turned on your heels away from the back door the second Spencer glanced away from Maeve. He saw JJ staring at him in disbelief first and then he saw the back of your retreating head. 

“Y/N?” He wiped his eyes. “Y/N!” 

He started after you and you quickened your pace through the house, desperate to get out of here before having him confront you. 

But of course he caught up with you, just before you reached the front door you felt his hand around your wrist. 

When he tugged you back to face him it was impossible to hide the fact you were crying. 

“Y/N I…I didn’t mean for you to hear that.” He rolled his lip between his teeth guiltily.

“But I did hear it.” You sniffed. “I’m never going to be her am I?” 

“It’s not like that.” He shook his head. “My feelings towards her are complicated. This whole thing is complicated.” 

“Let me uncomplicate it then Spencer. I’m taking myself out of this equation. I’m walking away.” You wiped your eyes on the back of your hand. 

“Please don’t do that. Let’s just talk about this, please?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. We want different things and you have very unresolved feelings for your ex. There is nothing left to say, Spencer. We don’t have the same idea of the future and maybe that’s because you can’t see yourself being with anyone but Maeve and I get it, you were together a long time. I just wish you’d been honest with me from the start. I wish I hadn’t had to witness the love of my life telling another woman she was his.” You turned away from him again to the door and threw it open. 

“Y/N, just wait please I can…” he trailed off seeing a gaggle of teenagers skulking up Rossi’s driveway towards the house.

With everything going on he had almost forgotten about the party. 

It allowed you to make a break, weaving between the kids on the driveway and Spencer couldn’t stop you. 

He plastered on a smile and welcomed Daisy’s school friends to Rossi’s home whilst watching you disappear. 

And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. 

***

He watched Daisy and the beautiful, bright smile on her face from the kitchen window, arms folded across his chest and just trying to drink it all in. 

The teens had the run of Rossi’s backyard, the adults relegated to the house to allow them some freedom. Music blared from a series of smart speakers which Spencer had no idea how they worked. 

But the kids seemed to enjoy it. 

Daisy was sitting on the edge of the pool, a blonde girl sitting by her side as they chatted and the smile that encompassed his daughter's face told him that girl was Meredith aka the most popular girl at Daisy’s school.

He tried to ignore the way his blood froze in his veins due to the fact his fourteen year old little girl was wearing a bathing suit with teenage boys in the vicinity. 

Her cast had been removed a few days ago, just in time for the party. He was glad she’d healed but also kind of wished she’d had it in a little longer and then at least she might not have been able to swim and therefore wouldn’t be in a damn bathing suit. 

It only really occurred to him as he watched her how grown up she had become. In his mind's eye she was still a little girl, the same little girl who loved ponies and came running to her dad when she was hurt. 

Lily still did, still looked at him like he hung the moon. But it wouldn’t be long before she was a teenager too and pushing her dad away. 

He still remembered the day Daisy was born as though it could have only been yesterday and now she was turning fourteen. She’d be going off to college in the blink of an eye, moving out and forging her own life. And surely it wouldn’t be all that long before Lily was doing the same.

He’d been a father for so long now he didn’t know what he would do with himself when they grew up and he became obsolete. Who was Spencer Reid without his girls? 

He continued watching his eldest daughter, partly because he wanted to feel included in her life and partly because he was avoiding Maeve like the plague. 

He felt a presence enter the kitchen and he prayed that it wasn’t his ex. His company sidled up next to him and he glanced at them, breathing a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Maeve. 

“Is it too much to ask to keep them young forever?” Spencer spoke wistfully, looking back at his daughter.

“Tell me about it,” Matt chuckled dryly. “My eldest is twelve now and I just can’t comprehend how that happened.” 

“I swear it was just yesterday I was bringing her home from the hospital.” 

“Yeah I know that feeling.” Matt patted Spencer’s shoulder. “Just be grateful for the time you still have with Lily before she becomes a teenager too.” 

The tone in Matt’s voice was almost pitiful and Spencer turned away from the window to look at him. 

“You spoke to JJ.” He frowned at the older man. 

“She might have mentioned an altercation.” Matt shrugged. “I assume that’s why you’re avoiding Maeve more than usual.” 

“My daughter's birthday was not the place I imagined my repressed feelings coming to the surface.” He sighed. “Not that I imagined them ever doing so.”

“And in front of your girlfriend too. That’s rough.” Matt offered him a sympathetic smile. 

“I’m almost positive she’s not going to be my girlfriend after today.” 

“Oh man, I’m sure you’ll-”

“Dad!” Daisy’s slightly frustrated voice cut Matt off. 

Spencer spun around to face his daughter who was now in the kitchen, hands on her hips and glaring at her father.

“What is it, pumpkin?” 

Daisy’s cheeks flushed pink and she glanced to her side where the blonde girl was standing, giggling under her breath. 

“Gross, don’t call me that.” Daisy rolled her eyes. 

Spencer pouted, her harsh tone hitting him straight in the chest. He’d called both of his girls pumpkin since they were babies and Daisy had never minded before. 

“Uh…what’s up, Daisy?” He tried again. 

“Can you change the music? My friends don’t want to listen to this old man stuff.” She huffed in such a sassy way Spencer wasn’t even sure he recognised this girl as his daughter. 

He frowned, tuning his ears into the music and noting a Frank Sinatra classic was playing through the speakers. 

It was a great song, but probably not to a fourteen year old. 

“I’ll sort it.” Matt spoke with a smile. 

“Thanks uncle Matt.” Daisy smiled at him before the two girls turned and started back towards the yard.

Spencer watched the blonde link her arm through Daisy’s as they walked.

“Your uncle is so hot.” Meredith’s voice carried towards them. 

Spencer grimaced and Matt chuckled. Spencer shot him a look. 

“What?” Matt shrugged. “I can’t help it.” 

As the two girls headed into the yard, Meredith’s voice met their ears again.

“Your dads kinda creepy though. He’s been watching us through the window for ages.” 

“I know right.” Daisy replied. 

Spencer slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead and grumbled under his breath. 

“This is the worst goddamn day of my life.” Spencer groaned. 

Matt laughed again and clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“No one ever said raising a teenager was easy.” 

“No kidding.” Spencer mumbled, following on Matt’s heels as he went to change the music. 

***

Two hours passed and the teens had well and truly taken over Rossi’s yard. The older man spent most of the day in the armchair in the corner of the grand living room sipping scotch and trying to pretend the kids weren’t going to destroy his house. 

Spencer kept himself out of the kitchen, not wanting his daughter or her friends to see him as creepy as Meredith had so kindly labelled him. 

Instead every fifteen minutes he sent another member of the BAU to the kitchen for something innocuous so they could subtly check on the teens.

Maeve kept her distant but he still caught her looking his way every so often. He tried to ignore her the best he could, knowing no good could come of talking to her. 

Lily flitted about the room, dividing her time between her parents and all her aunts and uncles as Daisy had strictly told her mother that Lily was not allowed anywhere near her party. 

He excused himself from the room after a while and headed upstairs to make a call. He knew you wouldn’t answer but it didn’t stop him trying.

As expected he got your voicemail and left a long rambling message about how sorry he was for what you’d overheard and how he wanted to explain. He begged you to call him back but wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t. 

When he was about to head back downstairs, he saw her heading his way and he honestly wanted to throw himself over the railing and straight into Rossi’s marbled floor below. 

Anything was better than talking to her. 

“Daisy wants her cake and I knew you wouldn’t want to miss it.” Maeve had her hands in the pockets of her summer dress and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Ok, thanks. I was just coming.” He nodded. 

“No sarcastic response? No passive aggressive comment?” Maeve frowned. 

Spencer sighed loudly, shaking his head. 

“I’m so tired, Maeve.” He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “I am exhausted with it all. I can’t keep fighting all the time.” 

Her frown deepened. She was fairly sceptical, and with good reason. For the last year all Spencer had wanted to do was fight, he almost seemed to enjoy it. 

“You don’t want to fight?” 

“I don’t have the energy to fight.” He shrugged. “We’re never going to be friends or anything like that, but I’m not fighting anymore. It takes too much out of me. You’re the mother of my children, you’re always going to be a part of my life whether I like it or not.” 

“I appreciate that.” Maeve softened, smiling gently. 

“It’s not for your benefit.” He scoffed. 

“Well that was short lived.” Maeve rolled her eyes, turning away from him and heading towards the staircase. 

“I’m trying.” He called after her, stopping her in her tracks. “I’m not saying it’s going to change overnight but I am trying.” 

She didn’t turn back to him, but she nodded her head as she started down the stairs. 

***

“This has honestly been the worst day ever.” Spencer slurred slightly, waving his glass around and spilling some of the contents over his shirt sleeve. 

“Should we cut him off?” Luke whispered to Penelope who was sitting on his left. 

The party had been over hours ago and all the children had since left, leaving Spencer and his old BAU team to drink in Rossi’s trashed yard. 

Daisy had a wonderful birthday and that was the most important thing to Spencer. The second most important thing was the fact he had royally messed things up with you. 

The moment he’d seen Daisy and Lily off with their mother he’d poured himself a giant glass of scotch in lieu of going home alone. Taco was at the kennel for the night so he had no need to go home.  

At this point he was well over half way through the bottle.

“I think he needs this.” Garcia shrugged sadly. 

“I fucked up with Y/N. She’s never going to talk to me again! What the fuck was I thinking?” He groaned loudly, splashing more alcohol down himself as he gesticulated. 

“It was probably time you finally faced your feelings over your divorce, kid.” Rossi sipped his drink. “Divorce is hard, it’s a shit thing to go through. Trust me, I would know.” 

“You know what’s dumb though? Really fucking dumb considering I’m supposed to be a genius?” He paused to sip his drink. “I honestly didn’t think I was in love with Maeve. Not until she told me she’d cheated. And it felt like my whole fucking world crumbled around me.” 

At least he had stopped crying. For at least an hour he’d sobbed and JJ, Garcia, Emily and Tara took turns holding him while he wept. 

They would all take him angrily ranting over crying any day. 

“Have you considered seeing a therapist?” Tara threw out the question on everyone’s lips. 

“What would I do that for?” He frowned, trying to focus on her but his eyes were misty from the alcohol. 

“Clearly you have a lot of unresolved issues.” Tara replied and that was putting it nicely. “I think talking to a therapist will really help.” 

“No, not gonna happen.” He was scrambling to get out of the lawn chair and failing miserably. 

JJ rolled her eyes and got up, wrapping her arm around his waist and helping him to his feet. 

“Where are you trying to go?” She asked, keeping an arm around him in case he fell over. 

“I…I don’t know.” He pouted. 

“May I suggest bed?” Emily piped up. “Sleep it off Reid.” 

“Yeah I’ve got plenty of room.” Rossi waved a hand in the general direction of the house. 

“Hmm good idea.” He nodded, leaning his weight against JJ. Seconds later he pulled away, his face drained of colour. “Oh fuck…gonna puke.” 

Maybe it was her mothering instinct but JJ jumped into action and managed to speedily help Spencer inside to the kitchen sink, just in time for him to violently spill his guts. 

The sounds emanating from him echoed around the room and into the yard. JJ stroked his back soothingly while he vomited profusely. 

“I think that’s my cue to leave.” Matt downed his drink and stood up.

The rest of the team silently agreed, finishing their own drinks and meandering into the house. 

Rossi saw them off, Matt and Tara who had only indulged in one drink each got in their cars while Garcia, Luke and Emily shared a cab toward their own homes. 

Spencer spent a long time being sick in the sink before he finally stood back and JJ handed him a glass of water. He leant against the counter and sipped it slowly. 

Rossi had taken his leave to bed, not much wanting to clean up after Spencer. 

“I’m sorry. You really don’t have to look after me.” He grumbled. 

“But I’m gonna do it anyway.” She smiled at him. “Let me help you upstairs. I think I’ll stay the night too. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you like this.” 

She thought he might argue but he honestly didn’t have the strength to. Instead he heaved a sigh and nodded. 

He finished the water and JJ aided him to one of Rossi’s guest rooms with an arm around his waist. He flopped to the bed fully dressed and on top of the covers. 

He was asleep within seconds. 

JJ quietly retreated from the room and made her way to the other guest bedroom whilst sending Will a text to let him know she wouldn’t be home. 

She got into bed, her heart aching for her best friend. She’d never seen him like this before, not even in the aftermath of Maeve’s affair. 

She’d always known it would come bubbling to the surface one day, pain needed to be felt one way or another. But now he’d unlocked that particular box she feared he may never come back from it. 

The beast had been unleashed and if Spencer didn’t find a healthy way to cope with his demons, she knew it would ultimately be his demise.

***

When Spencer finally surfaced around midday he looked about as bad as JJ expected him to. He still wore yesterday's clothes, now wrinkled from being slept in. 

She’d spent the morning helping Rossi clean his house of the mess from the party and both of them were sipping coffee at the kitchen island when Spencer emerged.

“Morning, how are you feeling?” JJ asked. 

He went straight to the sink, poured a glass of water and downed it in one before he could speak. 

“Like I drank an entire brewery, screamed at my ex-wife and destroyed my relationship.” He croaked. “Pretty impressive for one night.” 

“I know this isn’t what you’re gonna want to hear but you’ve been bottling up your feelings for Maeve for over a year, it was bound to come out.” Rossi shrugged. 

Spencer grumbled a little, padding to the chair on the other side of the counter and slumping into it. 

“You know I sometimes still picture her at the house.” He sighed deeply. “Like I close my eyes and I can sense her you know? Hear her in the kitchen when I come home from work, hear her reading to the girls, taking a shower or whatever. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night because I swear I can smell her shampoo on the pillow.” 

JJ reached across the counter and placed her hand on top of his as his eyes glazed over with tears. She didn’t talk and so he continued. 

“I did love her, I still do. I don’t want to be with her anymore, not after what she did. But I miss her. I miss the life we used to have. But it makes me feel so stupid admitting as much when she made me feel like our life together meant nothing.” He dislodged his hand from under JJ’s and raked his fingers through his knotted hair. “I really messed up with Y/N. There’s no coming back from this.” 

“You’ll figure it out. You’re a genius after all.” She smiled softly at him. “You ok to drive home?” 

“Yeah I’ll be fine. Thanks for letting me throw the party here Dave and for letting me crash.” 

“No problem, kid. Get home safe.” 

JJ and Spencer got to their feet and said their goodbyes to Rossi. They headed to their cars but before they went their separate ways he threw his arms around her. 

He held her for a long few minutes, trying to communicate without the use of words just how much her friendship meant to him. 

Eventually he let go and they got into their respective cars. 

Spencer drove out and collected Taco from the kennel before making the pilgrimage out to his home in the suburbs. 

Once he got home he forced himself to shower and change even though his head was pounding from last night's alcohol. Something had to give. He couldn’t keep living like this. 

His alcohol use was becoming unhealthy and it was a slippery slope into addiction, as he knew all too well. 

After he was dressed he collected every single bottle of alcohol in his house and without a second thought he poured it all down the drain. Out of sight, out of mind. 

He fed Taco and let him play in the yard while he sat in his office with a large mug of coffee. He switched on his computer and started Googling realtors in the area. 

He knew he’d never be able to move on whilst living in this house. He didn’t want to go far, didn’t want to pull his girls out of their school and away from their friends but he couldn’t stay in this place any longer. 

He sent off some emails enquiring about having his home valued and specifications of what he was looking for in a new house. 

He knew he needed to go out but he was purposefully putting it off, finding anything to distract himself from what he needed to do. 

He even sat and watched Taco roam the yard for at least half an hour, just to avoid the inevitable. 

But he needed to do this. He needed to face this. 

Eventually, several hours after he arrived home, he forced his feet in his shoes and grabbed his car keys. Hopefully Taco wouldn’t cause too much of a nuisance while he was gone. 

He jumped in his car and started his journey into DC, knowing full well that nothing he could say would make this better. 

It was time to face the music. 

@andiebeaword @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @foxy-eva @kbakery @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @redbulldinner @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @angelicasworld

[heartfullofleeches]

RuthieLand

 Yandere Amusement Park Staff [F,M,G.N/NB] + G.N Reader

Summary: A proper intro into Ruthieland. A park full of fun and colorful characters. A few with their eyes on a certain someone.

Word Count: 2.8k

The letter in your small hands is drenched in sweat, and the sticky combination of spilled soda and melted ice cream. You were the last to get up from the picnic table, placing you right at the back of the line of antsy children waiting to pass off their papers to the teacher waiting at its front. The excitement felt throughout the day dissipates the closer you get; your eyes locked on the untied pair of shoes beside you to avoid seeing just how many students you'd be competing with. The owner of the mitch match sneakers grips the sleeve of your coat, working their bandaged fingers into its opening to hold your hand with a comforting squeeze.

“Don't worry, Y/n. I’m sure you'll win.”

“I don't know…. The whole class is trying.”

“I can always ask my dad to pick you.”

Your anxiousness dies with a giggle of disbelief; your elbow gently nudging the other child's shoulder. “No way! That’s cheating. Besides, the main reason I want to win is to spend more time with you, but you said you don't even like it here that much.”

Their hold grows tighter.

“I'll go anywhere, as long as you’re with me.”

-

Knock- Knock-

A pause.

Knock-

“Just a minute!” 

You pause the brainrot currently playing on the TV, and dust off your clothes as you walk over to the front door. The alarm you set for the occasion goes off the second you rise to your feet. Huh. Tv- Bit later than usual today. On most days, your visitor arrived five minutes before it went off, even when you adjusted the schedule to the new time. Opening the front door, a shower of confetti meets you with the same familiarity as an old friend; the colorful onslaught sending you a wave of shock no matter how many times you're blasted with it. A sharp gasp comes from behind the barrel of the popper.

“O-oh, crap- Sorry about that, Y/n. Didn’t think you'd be so close this time.”

Dressed in a stereotypical mailman outfit with a new miner changes, the figure shoves the remains in their bag and straightens their back; fixing the rim of their bunny-eared hat over their face. The shadow of a sheepish smile appears under the lid. They extend their hand, holding out a bright pink envelope. 

“Got your tickets for you, same as always.”

You take the paper, bittersweet nostalgia lingering on the tip of your tongue like your favorite food you haven't tasted in ages. Ruthieland. The talk of both children and thrill seekers across the county and beyond. It would’ve been anyone's dream to even have the chance of winning lifelong tickets to an amusement park. Imagine your unfortunate luck to be the one child to win that once in a lifetime prize.

“Thank you, Cass.”

The carrier pulls their hat down further. “It's no problem. I actually have something else for you.”

They retrieve another item from their satchel. A single red rose. You take it with addled glee. Normally you didn't get any extra gifts unless it was at the park, or for your birthday or a holiday. 

“This is.. different.” 

Cass rubs at the back of their neck. “It's from me. I thought it'd be nice to give you something myself after all the time we’ve spent together.”

You can’t help but smile, partly from the guilt racking at your nerves. Cass has been delivering your tickets personally for the better half of two years. They were a reserved individual, only opening up to you about three months ago. In the beginning, they just left your tickets at your door and ran off. You weren't even sure if Cass was their name. It was pinned on a jacket they wore in the winter, and they never argued when you called them by that name. 

“That's sweet of you.” You press your fingers over the seam of the envelope. “Would you like a ticket? I can treat you to a float if you show up one day.”

Cass raises their hands. A dark substance is caked beneath the nails of the hand placed to their neck. “N-no thank you. I’m not good with amusement parks… Too loud and not a big fan of roller coasters. I gotta go. Can't be late. See you next month, Y/n.”

Cass flees the scene, running straight down the block instead of climbing into whatever vehicle they came in. You’ve never actually seen them drive. Hopefully they had some sort of transportation. With your company gone, you open the envelope. Four tickets wait for you in the pouch, decorated with four of the park's most beloved mascots. Ruthie Hare, Farmer Crow, Serenity the Baker, and a newer addition to the crew – Bashy Fox. Four tickets for four days of the month. You figured it was the right amount of days. Anymore and you'd probably get sick of going honestly. Since you had nothing better to do, the timing for their arrival was perfect. 

-

Throwing on some casual clothing, you hop on the nearest shuttle to the park. There was a number you could call for a lift, but taking the stroll felt like a nice start to the day. You lived roughly twenty minutes from the location and the stop was only a five minute walk. Excitement peaks for fellow riders of all ages as the park's largest coaster rolls into view, screaming from its passengers clear as day through the thick glass as the carts loop through the biggest hurdle. That one most likely wasn’t in the cards for you together. Especially after you saw someone losing the horde cotton candy they'd eaten before the ride during your last visit.

Stepping off the bus puts you front and center to Ruthieland's main entrance. The park's main mascot smiles down at you and all the other guests, hand raised in a partial wave.

Ruthie Hare was a silly character, as one would expect from a character originally solely targeted towards children. A root beer loving, flute playing hare with a whole gang of friends waiting inside. The anthropomorphic creature was soft pink in color, a black diamond around his left eye and a spotted bow tie from his early days as a circus mascot. He wore brown overalls with one sleeve always pushed down and large, oversized gloves. He had a bite mark on his right ear the comics and shows based off his gang never explained.

Reading your ticket, you march up to the counter to hand it to the attendee on staff. The woman stares at the sky as she aids another customer, cinnamon sugar powered around the corners of her lips. The hat she wore was dawned with rabbit ears just like Cass', but hers was a baseball hat and the ears had been snipped to keep them out of her face.

“Thank you for visiting our fantastic park today. We hope you have a hop-tastic day, and to see you soon… Or not.”

You walk up to the counter.

“Welcome to-Fuck" The woman wipes at her mouth and fixes her cap, adjusting her collar as she leans against the back of her seat.

“Y/n. Sup. Finally gonna let me treat you to the good shit today?”

Her relaxed attitude is a complete one eighty from how she first acted towards you, and the rest of the park goers. Ell, or Dashiell as her tag read, has been manning the ticket booth since high school; when she isn’t cleaning up messes she’s partly responsible for around the park. She was apparently homeschooled which is why you never saw much of her, and hardly showed emotion except for when you were around or in the company of her favorite snacks.

Like everyone else, she thought little of you in the beginning, but when she became aware of your status she figured it wouldn't hurt to get to know you a little. Majority of her coworkers had picked up on the crush she developed over the years, while you still remained obvious. 

“If I’m still here when you get off, then sure.” You pass her your ticket. Ell wipes it through the reader and shoves it directly into her pocket rather than the bin by her post.

“Gonna hold you to it. If I catch word you bailed on me, I'll find out where you live.”

Ell plays off the threat with a pat on your shoulder. “Alright, you better get going. Don't need the head of the lap dogs biting my ass again for holding up the line.”

You heed the warning and take your chance to go on ahead. The last time Ell was able to brew up a conversion, it took nearly a half hour to find your way out. Luckily it was a slow day. Finally entering the park, your senses are overloaded by the smell of buttered popcorn and sugar, and the amplified screams and laughter of everyone else at the park. Today felt like one of those easy days. Just a couple of the more relaxed rides and maybe a look at the other types of attractions till the firework show later in the evening. Maybe it was finally time to go back to the carnival area. 

“Well. Well. Well. Look what we have here.” 

The thick southern drawn slithers up your back like the snake the shadow behind you was. You watch from the silhouettes on the ground as its arm reaches over your shoulder, the handle of a shovel keeping you from going anywhere anytime soon.

“Well I'll be- I knew I could recognize that pretty head of hair from any angle. And here I was thinkin' these weary eyes of mine were foolin’ me.”

“Hello, Farmer.”

The farmer chuckles, voice fluid as  molasses and course as gravel. They step in front of you, twirling the rubber tool before planting it in the cracked concrete for support as they lean on it. They lift their head high so they’re able to see you past the rim of their sun hat and the tip of their beak.

“Howdy, there. Ol' friend.” 

Farmer Crow was the periodic villain of the park. A foul tempered soul, who hunted after the main characters for stealing their supplies. A lot of people sympathize with the crook for this reason, though their original methods for getting rid of the crew were – quite harsh.

The farmer was mostly humanoid and leaned slightly more towards scarecrow than anything with burlap skin and straw coming from the sleeves of their flannel shirt. The upper half of their face was fashioned after a regular crow with a long beak and black feathers. The shovel they carried was once a scythe, but after an accident that resulted in a young boy losing his eye, a petition was created to have it changed. 

“I missed ya dearly. Couldn’t catch a wink of sleep without seeing that face of yours. Here. On the house. As a welcome back present” They palm the breast pocket of their shirt and extend their hand, a small pin resting in their gloved palm.

It depicts the character Serenity offering the grumpy farmer a bouquet of roses. She had always been a neutral figure in the group, baking pies and other goods for them all to enjoy. You met the character at the themed restaurant in the park, and she was as sweet as her desserts. She even snuck you an extra treat on those days when you weren't feeling like yourself.

“A special gift fer a special friend. Long as you stay away from that darned rabbit, and all the other troublemakers we can be pals.” Farmer Crow readjusts their grip on their tool. Their tone is quiet, almost hesitant as they continue. “We are pals, ain’t we?”

“Course. Thank you, Crow.”

You take the pin from them. As you do, a group of kids runs up to them for an autograph. One of the older teens bumps right into you and just keeps running ahead. Strange. Farmer Crow grumbles something under their breath, but faces the crowd; body still angled towards you. You wave. 

“I'll catch up with you later, Crow. Try not to murder anyone.”

“I'll try…” 

Continuing ahead, you barely make it ten steps before another person is running up to you.

“Hey, Y/n! Wait up!”

The male catches his breath as you stop, standing to full attention now that your focus is solely towards him. He turns slightly so you can get a good look into his good eye; his right lidded and iris milky.

“You- Whew. Dropped this.” He holds out your phone to you. You slap your hand against the pocket it was held in, unaware of its absence until then.

“Crap. When did that happen? Thank you so much, Atlas.” You return your phone where it belonged. What would you do without this man? A newer hire, but one of the most helpful park employees you had met to date. He helped you out on those scarily frequent occasions you lost your phone or your keys, sometimes driving you home when the shuttle didn’t show. It was honestly no surprise really that he became head of security in such a short time.

Atlas waves off the praise. “It's nothing, Y/n. Just helping out a friend is all. Everything else okay? Need a chaperone around the park? Someone to take you home later?”

“Nah, I'll be fine. I think I’ve been coming to the park long enough to know my way around.”

Atlas looks a little down, but quickly picks himself back up. “I understand. If you need anything, you got my number and I'll be in the back checking the cameras for your every move.”

Realizing his error, the guard backtracks. “N-not that I’m watching you specifically! I meant it like I'll be watching out for everyone, but you especially. Cause I care about you and all.”

Atlas fakes a laugh. “I probably said too much, huh? I'll get out of your way for now. Talk to you another time.” 

The guard politely excuses himself; retracing his steps just to make sure you have his contact information including an email and back up phone. He leaves you to your business and with no further interruptions you go about your day. Getting on your rides of choice, exploring the on-plot museum and trying out some of the seasonal treats. You even meet back up with Ell at one point to fulfill her previous requests. You wonder about blissfully unaware to all the eyes that follow you; a mix of human, faux, and from behind the lens of a camera. 

As the day draws to an end, you finish your trip by sitting on the ledge of the fountain in the middle of the park and watching the fireworks. It was the central hub of the area, giving attendees easy access to all the different junctions. Small droplets of water sprinkle the back of your shirt as the fountain recycles its stream, but you don't mind. Vibrant flashes of color bead across the sky, blinding you momentarily from their brightness and the sheer wonder of it all. If there was one thing you could never get tired of – it was this. With the fireworks soon coming to an end, you stand up. Where did everyone go?

A sharp whistle pierces through the loud booms.

 You look around.

There’s a short breath, before another whistle. The sound stops for a solid five seconds, and then another.

It continues longer this time. You’re able to trail it back to your left, towards the circus themed corner of the park. Your breath quickens. 

Standing right beneath the sign was an all too familiar, buck toothed face. He waves his arm in your direction, drooping ears swaying with the motion. They looked longer than the poster's pictured them to be – every part of him did. 

“Ruthie?”

The hare nods, beckoning you towards him with a finger. You haven’t seen him in ages. While his face was still plastered everywhere, the mascot himself had been retired from walking about for reasons even you didn't know. He points over to the large circus tent at the back of the park, forming a heart with his thin fingers. 

“I can't come with you. The park is going to close soon.”

His arms fall to their sides. He stomps his foot before pointing again. Seeing you won't budge, he steps forward. He moves as though an unseen weight is dragging his body to the ground, dragging the left side of his body forward. Paralyzed by fear, you remain glued to your spot as he nears. The fur around his mouth glistens with a dark substance. As he stands over you, you shut your eyes, fearing the worst. It's only when you hear the mascot shuffling away that you open them.

In your lap is a napkin with two, mug shaped candies nestled in it. Ruthie's favorite. Beneath the sweets are three words.

Some-bunny likes you.

[chvoswxtch]

Hey there, I was wondering if at some point you could do a one shot of female reader who has PTSD from being trafficked and Frank comforts her during one of her nightmares or flashbacks?

I’m a survivor and just could really use some measure of comfort right now. That maybe there are people who care. That I’m not alone. That things will get better. That maybe one day I can actually have a man who will love me.

Thank you so much.

my darling nonnie,

I just want to say how proud of you I am. I cannot even begin to imagine the horror you went through, and I am so very sorry that happened to you. I am so grateful to know that you made it out and you are safe.

you are absolutely not alone, not here. I can assure you that one day, you will meet someone who will take the time to listen to your story, and will love you through it, and do everything they can to make you feel protected. you are worthy of love and happiness, and nothing that was ever done to you was ever your fault.

I want to apologize for taking so long to get this to you, but I hope it provides the solace that you need. I want to thank you for trusting me with this, for sharing your story with me, and for giving me the opportunity to gift you with some comfort. I hope this makes you feel supported, and I hope it makes you smile. I am sending you every ounce of love I possibly can. ❤️ 

warning: light swearing, angst, mentions of ptsd word count: 1.7k

right here.

The faintest disturbance to your otherwise peaceful slumber instantly made Frank’s eyes flutter open. He had always been a bit of a light sleeper, and during his time in the marines, he had to be ready to wake up at a moment’s notice and prepared to jump into action if need be. This made it particularly hard for him to be able to sleep in, even when he really wanted to, but it did grant him the ability to rescue you from the lingering monsters that came after you in your dreams.

Opening up to Frank about your traumatic past had been a task that terrified you, and you had put it off as long as you possibly could. It was difficult to talk about in general. You didn’t enjoy having to relive that nightmare all over again, but sometimes beneath the depths of sleep, your mind didn’t give you a choice. The first time you had a nightmare in Frank’s presence, it was terrible. 

You had been thrashing around in your unconscious state, warm salty tears staining your cheeks, and the feeling of strong hands holding your body down only sent your subconscious into a further state of panic, crying out for anyone to help. It was several minutes before Frank’s deep voice broke through your psyche, and your eyes suddenly snapped open to meet his horrified ones. Frank was straddling your hips, his large hands wrapped firmly but gently around your wrists, and he had them pinned against his own chest. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin through your fingertips, and his heartbeat pounding wildly in his chest. His face was twisted up in a concoction of pure concern and unmistakable fear, and that caused an onslaught of overwhelming emotions to crash into you like a merciless tide against an unsuspecting shore.

Fear. Guilt. Shame. Panic. Insecurity.

It all washed down your cheeks in wave after wave, and apologies spewed from your lips like glimmering sea foam. Frank didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what you needed from him at that moment, but he did his best to navigate you away from the storm in your own head to the safety of his serene embrace. 

He had swiftly pulled you up into his arms so that he could hold you in his lap, cradling the back of your head in his large palm against his chest, pressing his lips to your forehead in a permanent kiss. His arms were wrapped tightly enough around you that you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, but not so much that you felt suffocated. Frank rocked you gently in his arms, alternating between shushing you quietly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear to calm you. 

You couldn’t let go of him. Somewhere along the way, you had gone from being terrified of someone to touch you to needing Frank’s touch more than the oxygen in your own lungs. Even despite knowing about Frank’s past and what he had done, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. It was extremely hard for you to trust anyone like that after what had happened to you, but you trusted him. You knew his intentions were always pure. Frank was always gentle with you. He never pushed you to talk if you didn’t want to. He respected all of your boundaries, even the ones you didn’t voice, but he could see. When it came to intimacy, he followed your lead and always made sure you were comfortable before he did anything. 

But it wasn’t until that moment that you realized how safe you were with him. 

That moment of clarity was a huge breakthrough for you, because you finally realized that you had someone that would love you through anything, and would go above and beyond to protect you. 

That what had happened to you would never happen again.

Once you had finally calmed down enough to speak, you told Frank the truth about your traumatic past. Frank listened intently and without judgment, and held your hand the entire time, crafting the safe space you needed to get that weight off your chest. You could see the crestfallen shine coating his waterline as you spoke, and feel his rage for those who had hurt you in the way he tightened his hold on you. 

Everything seemed to click into place for him. He’d had his suspicions that there was something you weren’t telling him. You were just as hypervigilant in public as he was. Shades of discomfort and anxiety coated your face whenever people moved into your space too suddenly, especially men. You had been weary of him when he first met you, and took awhile to warm up to him, but he had just assumed you found him physically intimidating, or that you knew the truth about his past before he’d had a chance to explain himself. Intimacy was a slow process in your relationship, not that he really minded, and he had picked up on your sensitivity to being touched. 

Frank knew the signs of PTSD. He had seen it in several of his friends during his time in the marines. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror. And he saw it in you. 

Your confession only made your relationship stronger with Frank. It helped him understand you on a more intimate level, and helped him figure out what you needed from him when things got bad, or when the shadows of your past came to plague your dreams.

Like they were doing right now.

Frank turned over from his position on his stomach to mold himself against your back, reaching over your hips to grasp one of your hands, lacing his fingers through your own as he brushed his lips against your ear. The little distressed whimpers he heard coming from you broke his heart, and he hoped that he could pull you from the horror film playing in your head before the climax.

“Wake up, sweetheart. C’mon, wake up for me.”

He lightly brushed his thumb along your lower stomach soothingly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, caressing your jaw with featherlight kisses from his plump lips.

“Listen to my voice. Come back to me, baby. C’mon, m’right here.”

He listened intently for the sound of your breathing to become shallow, and a rush of relief flooded his senses when he felt you start to grip his hand for reassurance. 

“There ya go, attagirl. Come to me, baby.”

Frank could faintly see the reflection of the moonlight twinkling in your eyes as they shot open. The shuddering inhale that cut through the silence made his heart ache, but he fought through his own emotions to focus on you.

“Frank?”

The smallness of your voice coming out in shattered fragments hurt him more than any wound he’d ever had. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, pressing his lips to your neck in a tender kiss as he whispered delicately into your ear.

“M’here, sweetheart. Right here.”

For a moment he just held you, his thumb tracing invisible shapes against your skin, giving you a moment of space to figure out what you needed in that moment. Sometimes you knew that answer, and sometimes you needed him to find it.

“Need somethin’, honey?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“S’alright. This one wasn’t so bad, yeah? S’gettin’ better?”

The sound of your deep exhale was loud in his ears. He felt the stiffness of fright slowly melt away from your bones as you relaxed into his embrace, and Frank knew he had you back.

“Yeah.”

For a moment it was silent, nothing but the echo of your confirmation and the summertime breeze rustling through the trees lingering in the air.

“Thank you.”

“Never gotta thank me, sweetheart. I wanna help.”

“You do, a lot. Sometimes I feel like…like I ask too much of-”

“Hey, don’t start that.”

Frank heard your soft sigh of protest, and he held you against him that much tighter in his own silent response.

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep.”

There was a twinge of guilt resonating in your soft confession. Frank glanced behind him to look at the clock on the nightstand, the lime green digital numbers reading three seventeen in the morning. 

“You hungry?”

“What?”

The tone of your voice was a mixture of perplexity and amusement, but he was just glad you sounded like you again.

“Lemme take ya to breakfast, c’mon.”

“Frank, it’s like-what, two in the morning?”

“Three actually.”

Frank was halfway out of bed, prepared to drag you with him, when you gripped onto his hand and your melodic laughter filled the room. God, he had missed that sound.

“Where are we going for breakfast at three in the morning?”

“That diner down the street ya like. They’re open twenty four hours, and they’re one of the only goddamn places in this city knows how to make fuckin’ hash browns right.”

The more Frank talked, the louder your infectious laughter got, and he found himself grinning from ear to ear with pride.

“What are you talking about? What is the right way to make hash browns?”

The incredulity was clear in your tone, even though you were laughing so hard you could hardly speak.

“Gotta cover ‘em and smother ‘em. Onions, cheese, ketchup, maybe a lil hot sauce. There’s a right way and a wrong way, alright? The fact you don’t know there’s a wrong way means you ain’t ever had ‘em right, and what kinda man would I be if I didn’t fix that, huh?”

Frank didn’t wait for your reply. He lifted you up by your waist and gently folded you over his shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around the back of your thighs as his free hand came down against your ass in a light smack while he grinned widely.

“Now c’mon, baby. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” 

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042