#and was passed down to him by his father by his father before him

[urmum-lovesme]

Bunny (P6)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: this is pretty intense cause shit has offically started to go down guys. Also Bunny and Rafe- they just need to get together already and JJ and Bunny- they need to stop this malarkey cause it's making me upset :( (the plot thickens...)

warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs and drug dealing, strip club, naked women, lap dance, pole dancing, abusive father, harassment (implied assault)

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6)

The bass of the club pulsed through the air, a steady thrum that matched the energy of the bodies moving under the neon lights. The haze of perfume and liquor, the blurred mix of men throwing cash they barely thought about, she felt she could slip into a rhythm and let herself forget for a few hours. But tonight, something felt... off. Not in a bad way, just different.

Rafe wasn’t here.

She hadn't seen him walk through the door, hadn’t caught his sharp blue eyes tracking her every move, hadn’t felt the weight of his presence pressing into her skin like it usually did. It was strange- unsettling even. Because for as much as she hated the way he always inserted himself into her space, she’d grown used to it. 

Expectant of it.

She scanned the room, gaze flicking over the usual faces. The regulars. The passing truckers and tourists. The men who came in throwing money around like they owned the world. But no Rafe. No smug smirk from across the room, no lazy, arrogant drawl calling her name just to piss her off.

Good. 

It was good. 

Right?

She exhaled, shaking the thought from her head as she pressed her body up against the cool metal of the pole, swaying her hips slowly from side to side. Maybe he finally got bored. Maybe he’d found someone else to bother. That would be a win for her- but she couldn't deny she found it weird, the past few days his absence had been more than noticeable. The rest of the night passed with a familiar ease. She danced, she laughed, she put on the show she always did, let greedy hands slip bills into the waistband of her outfit, letting the bass shake the floor beneath her feet until it was time to slip away. She collected her cash, shoving the crumpled bills into a paper bag like always, folding it up before stuffing it into her duffle. A pair of heels landed on top, and she yanked a hoodie over her head, the fabric swallowing her whole as she tried to disappear into herself. As she slung the bag over her shoulder and started toward the back exit, Naomi- still wearing her dainty Bambi necklace- caught sight of her from the dressing room mirror, one perfectly arched brow raising as she turned on the stool.

“Going already?”

Naomi asked, voice smooth with curiosity. Y/N sighed, adjusting the strap of her bag.

“Yeah, I’ve got my fill for the night.”

Naomi hummed knowingly, leaning an elbow against the vanity as she lazily twirled a mascara wand between her fingers.

“Mmm. Guess I can’t blame you.”

Y/N forced a small smile, already shifting her weight toward the door, but Naomi wasn’t done. She mused, the teasing in her voice unmistakable.

“Haven’t seen your little boy toy around recently...”

“He’s not my anything.”

Y/N’s shoulders tensed, and she turned just enough to give the girl a look. Naomi just smirked, eyes glinting under the warm glow of the mirror lights.

“With the amount of cash he throws at you? Girl, I’d lock in for life.”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head as she pushed the door of the changing rooms open, “Well, he’s all yours.”

Naomi rolled her eyes playfully, but there was warmth in her gaze as she pushed off the stool and made her way over. She pulled Y/N into a soft goodbye hug, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek before cupping her face with manicured fingers.

“You okay?”

She asked, voice quieter now, like she could sense something wasn’t sitting right. Y/N exhaled, the weight of the night settling deep in her bones.

“I’m just tired Omi.”

“Go get some sleep babe.”

Naomi gave her a small, knowing smile, her thumb brushing over Y/N’s cheek lightly. Y/N returned the smile, albeit faint, before pulling away with a cheeky glint in her tired eyes.

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to do...”

“-Oh who is you—get outta here.”

Naomi scoffed, rolling her eyes. She swatted Y/N’s ass playfully as she walked out, earning a quiet laugh from her friend before the door swung shut behind her. And just like that, she was back in the night air, exhaling into the quiet.

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

The door creaked open, and the dim glow of the kitchen light was the first thing Y/N noticed as she stepped inside. The smell of food hit her nose, and when she looked up, there was JJ, standing in the kitchen, biting into a sandwich, his jaw clenching as he chewed. His eyes flicked up to her, but he didn’t say anything at first. Just watched as she walked in like she was a stranger in her own home. She greeted, voice tentative.

“Hey”

JJ hummed in response, barely pausing his chewing as he shoved another bite in his mouth. She ignored the tension sitting thick in the air and walked past him, heading straight to her room. She dumped her duffle bag onto the bed before peeking into their dad’s room. The bed was unmade, but the room was empty, and that made her feel just a little lighter. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with him tonight. She padded back into the kitchen, her fingers already tugging at the fridge door handle, but the second she opened it, disappointment settled deep in her stomach.

Almost empty.

Of course it was.

A slow exhale left her lips, and she rubbed a tired hand over her face. She was going to have to go food shopping- again. For now, she just grabbed a bottle of water, shutting the fridge with a quiet sigh. She pulled out a chair opposite him, the legs scraping against the worn kitchen floor as she sat down. JJ was now sitting at the table, his sandwich halfway gone, eyes flicking up to her before focusing back on his food. Y/N rested her elbows on the table, rolling the cool bottle of water between her palms. “So…” she started, trying to keep things light, normal.

“What have you been up to?”

JJ barely looked up, “Not much.”

Her lips pressed together at his flat tone, “Saw Kie lately?”

“Yeah.”

She took a slow sip of her water, studying him, “How are JB and Sarah?”

JJ just shrugged.

She exhaled quietly, tapping her fingers against the bottle. He was obviously annoyed with her- she could feel it in the way his words were clipped, how he wasn’t even really looking at her. And it wasn’t fair. He didn’t get it. Didn’t get why she was always out, why she barely came home, why she was constantly exhausted. She was doing this for him. For both of them.

It stung.

“What’s wrong, huh?”

Y/N finally asked her voice soft, tilting her head as she studied him. JJ just rolled his eyes, pushing back from the table. He grabbed his empty plate, dumping it into the sink with a clatter before turning away from her. She watched as he made his way toward his room, not saying a word, not even sparing her a glance.

“Don’t walk away when I’m speaking to you JJ”

She called after him, her voice sharper now. He stopped in his tracks, turning just enough to shoot her an unimpressed look.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you my mom now, or—”

“Excuse me?” she cut in, her jaw clenching, “Whats with the fucking attitude- whats got into you?”

“What’s got into me? What’s got into me?”

JJ let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he ran a frustrated hand through his messy blonde hair. She just stared at him, arms crossing over her chest, brows furrowing in confusion. He was mad- really mad- but she didn’t understand why. She wondered if her missing the bonfire last week really that serious? JJ let out a scoff, shaking his head.

“I literally never see you, Y/N. I never see you.”

His words hit her harder than she expected. She opened her mouth, but he didn’t even give her the chance to respond before he kept going, voice laced with frustration.

“You weren’t at the bonfire last week. You weren’t home when I got back from the chateu the other night. You weren’t here this morning. Jesus, I don’t even know the last time we actually sat and talked- like normal siblings do?”

His voice wavered slightly at the end, but he masked it with another shake of his head and roll of his eyes. Y/N bit at the skin on the inside of her hceek sightly before sighing out,

“J, I know... I’m sorry, okay? It’s not my fault I’ve just been busy- I’m working, I’m doing—”

“Yeah-” he cut in, crossing his arms, “I know. You’re always fucking working.”

She felt her chest tighten, guilt creeping up her spine. She was doing this for him- she'd always say that to herself when she'd dread to get out of bed in the worning, when she'd have to force herself to drive to the club afer her shift with Sofia. To keep To make sure he had food, a roof over his head. And yet, he was still looking at her like she had let him down. JJ let out a bitter laugh, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Whatever. Always an excuse with you.”

His words made her stomach twist.

“Acting like you’re doing something so fucking noble”

His eyes were cold and Y/N’s body went rigid. She could take a lot of shit, but not this. Not from him. Not after she'd been working her ass off for the past few months. Her fists clenched at her sides, her breath coming out a little uneven now. “You think this is a fucking excuse?” Her voice rose, the frustration bubbling over.

“You think I like being out all the time? You think I don’t wanna be home?”

“Yeah well you're never fucking around-”

“-Well, who do you think fucking pays for everything, huh?”

She snapped out voice loud and shaking. “Who pays for you? For the house? For the food in the fridge- oh, wait- there isn’t any, because I haven’t even had time to go shopping and no one else in this house fucking will! Who pays for the electricity? Who gives you money for gas so you can use that dumb ass bike out front? Who pays for you and all the Pogues when you go out? Who does all that- cause it’s not you oand it's definitely not dad”

JJ just stared at her, saying nothing.

The silence between them was thick, suffocating and Y/N was breathing heavily now, her entire body trembling from the outburst. Her chest rose and fell, emotions crashing over her like a wave she couldn’t escape from.

“Jesus”

She mumbled to herself hands coming up to cover her face angrily as she turned away from the boy trying to keep her composure, she could feel the lump rising in the back of her throat. When she looked up to the blonde boy in front of her,

He was just standing there, frozen simply looking at her.

Y/N’s eyes closed for a moment looking away once more, her hand instinctively running over her brow in an attempt to calm herself, but the anger and frustration were still boiling inside her. She was so fucking tired- tired of fighting, tired of being the one holding everything together but still being seen as a shitty sister. Her shoulders sagged as she exhaled slowly, trying to regain some sense of control over herself. But before she could collect her thoughts, the door creaked open.

Luke stumbled in, smelling of alcohol and smoke, his breath heavy with the stench of both. He was swaying slightly, a half-empty beer bottle dangling from his hand. His bloodshot eyes fixed on them, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Little family meeting and I wasn’t invited?"

He slurred, the words dripping with disdain. Y/N’s stomach churned. She didn’t have the strength for this. Not tonight. Not after she'd literally just ripped her brother to shreds. JJ was the first to react, his voice low,

"Dad just go to bed"

His voice a little weary as he spoke to the man. Luke’s bloodshot eyes flickered to JJ, and he sneered unimpressed, 

"Little hero trying to save the day huh?" 

His voice was thick with slurred sarcasm. Y/N pressed her nails harshly into her palms trying to shake off the dizziness that seemed to cloud her mind. She muttered, half to herself, but her voice was tight with frustration.

"It's nothing, just leave i-" 

"-I need some money" 

Luke’s attention shifted to her, his stance unsteady but focused as he spoke out, his voice dripping with entitlement. Y/N let out a quiet sigh, she knew where this was going, and she didn’t have the patience for it. She didn’t want to deal with this, but Luke was stumbling closer, relentless. As if on instinct JJ stepped forward, his body tensing as he saw what was coming. 

"Dad, stop" 

He spoke out firmly, trying to block Luke's path. But Luke shoved past him, shoulder bumping into the boys completely ignoring JJ’s warning, his face now dangerously close to Y/N's. He leaned in, his breath hot against her face. 

"C’mon, I know you got some," he sneered, "Don’t be selfish. Just give it to me."

"I don’t have any"

She spat, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue, but she was desperate for him to leave her alone, to leave them alone. Y/N’s teeth ground together as she watched his face, his eyes narrowing slightly unimpressed with her tone. Her chest tightened. Before she could react Luke’s hand shot out, grabbing her face roughly as she let out a small whimper, as he forced her to look at him, her own hand flying up to grip his wrist trying to pry him off her face.

"Don’t fucking lie to me" 

He growled, his grip tightening. JJ’s eyes flashed with concern, and he surged forward, shoving Luke back with a force that made the older man stumble. But Luke wasn’t backing down- he never had. He shoved JJ back, hard, the blonde boy loosing balance and harhsly hitting his back against the kitchen counter. Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the sight, the sick feeling in her stomach instantly rising asshe saw JJ having to steady himself against the cold tiles of the counter.

"Don't interrupt when the adults are talking!" 

Luke barked, his voice filled with nothing but venom. Y/N felt a wave of panic rise in her chest now as the older man stumbled towards her brother once more, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. She couldn't let this escalate.

"Stop!"

She called out, the man whipping around at the sound of her voice. Her hands moved frantically to her pockets, pulling out the two crumpled fifty dollar bills she’d tucked away earlier before she'd left the club. Her fingers fumbled, shaking as she shoved it into Luke’s hand.

"Just—just leave him alone okay?"

She muttered through gritted teeth. "Take it and go."

Luke’s eyes glinted with satisfaction as he grabbed the money, he turned on his heel as he made his way back through the front door, the wood slamming loudly on its hinges making the walls of the house shake. Her eye drifted over to her brother, whose eys were already on her, taking in teh reddend skin around her jaw. Y/N let out a small sigh, throat feeling tight as she turned on her heel, moving toward her bedroom. JJ called after her, his voice pleading.

"Y/N—"

"Let it go Jay"

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

Y/N clocked out of her shift at the country club, the weight of another long day settling heavily on her shoulders as she slipped back into the driver seat of her car. Her mind raced- she’d just gotten off a long shift here, and the tension with JJ had been thick lately- after their argument the other day everything felt strained. She slipped her phone out of her bag the familiar hum vibrating in her hand.

Tommy (3)

She stared at the message for a few moments, biting her lip, the screen lighting up her face in the dim light of the parking lot.

Tommy  :  Club’s gonna be real busy 

Tommy  :  Need more girls than usual you free? 

Tommy  :  Pay's double.

The offer was tempting- the money would make a difference. She remembers the last time she got a message like this, she earned almost five hundred dollars for only two hours. She needed an escape- it wasn't like she was going to go home anyways. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment longer, then she let out a small breath, shutting her eyes for a brief second as if trying to push off all the weight off her chest. She placed the phone down and turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life beneath her. The sound filled the car, drowning out the noise in her head for just a moment. As she backed out of the parking lot and onto the quiet streets, her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, the familiar road ahead almost a comfort in its predictability.

The strip club was alive with the hum of chatter, clinking glasses, and bass-heavy music filling the air. The buzzing atmosphere was almost suffocating- Y/N navigated through the crowd, feeling that familiar feeling as she made her way toward the changing room. As she stepped through the door, the smell of perfume, hairspray, and a faint hint of alcohol hit her. The room was already packed with girls, some adjusting their outfits, others touching up their makeup. Naomi was perched on a bench in front of the mirror, her fingers running through her hair.

“Heyyyy girlfriend”

Y/N smiled at her greeting, slipping off her jacket and tossing it on the chair next to Naomi. The girl glanced up at her again, her eyes flickering with curiosity. “Busy night,” she said, her voice low,

“You’re not the only one who got the double-pay offer. Everyone’s here.”

Y/N gave a half-nod, her mind still processing the chaotic energy in the room. “What’s going on tonight?” she asked, trying to ignore the tension rising in her chest. She didn’t want to get caught up in the buzz she just wanted a good payout, but she had to ask. Naomi didn’t miss a beat.

“Your little boy toy-” she said with a knowing smile, a hint of a tease in her voice. “-and his friend are selling tonight. Big stuff, apparently.”

The mention of Rafe made Y/N freeze for a split second. It was subtle, but Naomi caught the shift in her posture—the way her shoulders tensed, the brief flicker of something in her eyes. She hadn’t seen him in days, and the thought of him brought a tightness to her chest- one she coudlnt explain. Y/N licked her lips, giving a slow nod. She didn’t trust herself to say anything.

There were too many feelings tangled up with his name.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled her heels out of her bag. The last thing she needed tonight was to deal with whatever Rafe had going in, yet she knew, deep down, she couldn’t avoid him forever. The music thudded louder as they walked out onto the main floor of the club. Y/N could feel every pair of eyes on her, the weight of their stares almost tangible as she moved through the crowd. She was wearing the tiniest skirt she could find, fishnets hugging her legs tightly, and a little tie top that showed just enough to catch anyone’s attention. That’s when they bumped into Tommy, who was leaning against a pillar near a busy booth. He looked up, a grin spreading across his face when he saw them.

“Just who I’ve been looking for,” he said, his voice laced with the usual business-like tone that masked the eagerness in his eyes.

“Ladies, I need you two for a duet in the far left booth.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped as she glanced over, recognizing that booth as the one Rafe and Barry usually occupied when they were selling. It was one of the higher-paying spots. Naomi didn’t seem to notice, or care. She gave Y/N a quick look, a mischievous gleam in her eye as she nudged her playfully with her shoulder.

“You better shake your ass on me like your life depends on it”

Naomi said, her voice low enough that only Y/N could hear. Y/N let out ana mused hum and although thought of being in Rafe’s vicinity again made her somewhat nervous, she quickly pushed the feeling down. She didn’t have time to second-guess herself. She couldn’t afford to. Not with this much money on the line anyways.

“Trust me, I will”

She said back, her voice steady, though there was a tightness in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. They made their way toward the booth, and with every step, Y/N could feel her pulse quicken, the familiar sense of tension rising in her. It wasn’t just the job. It was him. When they got closer to the booth, Naomi didn’t waste a second. She immediately slid onto Barry’s lap, her movements smooth and confident. Her hands traced down his chest as she leaned in close, her voice low,

"Hey, I’m Bambi"

"Shi, Bambi huh?"

Barry’s grin stretched wider as he raised an eyebrow. He laughed, clearly impressed. His hands were already reaching for the waistband of her panties, slipping cash into the band as she giggled, a carefree sound escaping her lips. Meanwhile, Y/N stood there, watching them for a moment, her heart pounding. The energy was thick, the music pulsing with a new rhythm that seemed to spread through her veins.

But as the beat dropped, her gaze shifted to Rafe.

He was sprawled back on the booth, leaning against the backrest, his legs spread wide and his arms casually crossed, biceps straining against the material. His posture was so damn confident, like he owned the place. His eyes flicked up toward her, and for a second and she froze, not sure how to approach him. The past few days of silence between them hung in the air like a thick fog. But just as quickly as the hesitation struck, she pushed it away. Instead of walking over to him, Y/N turned toward the pole at the centre of the booth, where the soft glow of the lights hit her skin just right. A new song started, the beat smooth and seductive, and she felt the music pull her into its rhythm. She slipped toward it, her fingers brushing against the cool metal as she took a deep breath. The familiar motion of her body flowing with the music was comforting, even if her nerves were still buzzing.

Her body swayed to the rhythm, her movements smooth and fluid as she gripped the pole. Her hips swivelled, hands trailing over her body in the same hypnotic rhythm. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Rafe- his gaze fixed on her, his eyes following her every move, a smirk tugging at his lips and she couldn’t help but feel the heat of his stare, the intensity in it that seemed to burn straight through her. His head tilted slightly, his lips parting as he watched her, as if the world had stopped just for him to witness this. His presence was heavy, and it made her pulse quicken in ways she wasn’t sure she could control.

But then Bambi was there, slipping up beside her, her body just as fluid and confident. She didn’t need words, just the familiar energy they often shared up on the stage. They moved together like they had done this a thousand times before- two bodies locked in perfect sync. Naomi’s hands slid up Y/N’s waist from behind, pulling her closer, their bodies grinding against each other in a perfect duet. Y/N's heart raced as Naomi’s lips brushed against her ear, her breath warm against her skin. They moved together, hands all over each other, teasing, pulling, snapping straps against skin as though their bodies were made to fit together.

Bambi’s fingers trailed down the girl’s spine, as she turned her around both of them now facing eachother. Without hesitation Y/N ran her hands over the girls soft skin, lowering herself down her body before she dropped to her knees in front of the girl. Rafe perked up in his seat eyes glued to the two of them on the stage, yet his focused was set on one more than the other- solely on her. Bambi's hand ran over the top of Y/N's hair and in response the girl arched her back running her hands up from the girls glittering heels to her soft thighs looking up at her from where she knelt on the ground. Bambi let out a playful smile as the whistles from the crowd around them grew louder, a few guys tossing money in their direction, clearly more interested in the show than the drugs being sold.

Rafe’s eyes never left Y/N, he couldn't draw them away even if he wanted to. His teeth ground against eachother, his gaze heavy, fingers tapped on the edge of the booth. The music finally began to fade as the dance came to a close and bills flew past, landing on the floor around the girls. Naomi sent Y/N a kiss, her chest rising and falling with the adrenaline, before she pulled back, a playful wink thrown in her direction as she picked up a few of the fifty dollar bills.

"Thanks for paying for my rent this month"

Rafe had moved now, his back straight as he leaned forward, sitting at the edge of the booth, his posture tense. His eyes were still following the girl standing on the raised platform- but then a guy who had just bought some coke from Barry next to them caught his attention. He was fiddling with the small baggie in his hand, his eyes trailing up and down Y/N’s body with a lecherous grin on his face. He licked his lips, his eyes lingering on her for a beat too long, then he turned to Rafe, the smirk never leaving his face.

“How much for her?” he asked, his voice low but confident as he gestured over to Y/N,

“For a private session?”

As soon as the words left him lips Rafe's jaw clenched, a low scowl pulling at his features as he fixed his eyes on the guy. Without a second thought, he spat out in a cold and cutting tone,

“She’s not for sale.”

The words hit harsh and unforgiving, and Rafe didn’t even give the guy a chance to respond before he stood up and shoved past the man without a glance, his movement swift and purposeful as he made his way towards Y/N. She looked up to find Rafe standing next to her, his gaze running over her, sharp and unreadable. The scowl on his face had softened a little, but there was still something dark in his eyes, something she couldn't fully decipher.

She didn't want to anyways- didn't want to try and understand it... undertsand him

"I want a private session."

His words cut through the air like a knife, his voice low and dangerous. The girl's jaw clenched tighter at the words, an uneasy mixture of anger and something else bubbling beneath the surface. She couldn’t pinpoint it. She didn’t know what to feel anymore when it came to him, she didn’t know where she stood with him, and it made her stomach churn. Naomi overheard from behind her and, with a grin, snuck up close, chin resting lightly on Y/N’s shoulder.

"She’d love to do that for you, wouldn’t you, bunny?"

She teased, the playful tone almost mocking in its innocence. Y/N was still glaring at Rafe, not able to tear her eyes away from him, she didn’t even know how to navigate the mess he'd tangled her in, but this?

This wasn’t what she needed.

Private sessions weren;t anything new. She used to do them all the time, that was before Rafe supposedly banned her from doing so. Either way, it was the nature of the business, and she’d done her fair share. Yet with him- she wasn't sure she wanted to cross that line. But when Rafe spoke again, his offer surprised her, his voice cold as he cut through her thoughts:

"I’ll pay triple."

Naomi’s eyes widened at the offer, clearly taken aback by the amount of money Rafe was willing to throw around. Y/N’s irritation flared—triple? Seriously? She couldn’t even figure out if he was trying to piss her off or if he genuinely wanted a session with her, and that pissed her off even more. Pushing down her frustration, Y/N finally looked away from him, her expression hardening as she nodded stiffly.

"Fine."

Her voice was sharp, but she quickly turned away, heading toward the private rooms, the sound of her heels echoing on the floor as she walked. Rafe followed close behind her, his footsteps deliberate. When they reached the door, she stopped and turned to face him, her hand resting on the door handle. She glanced at him and with a flick of her wrist, she opened the door and gestured inside with a stiff movement.

“After you.”

Rafe didn’t move for a second, his gaze still intense, but eventually, he stepped inside. Y/N turned, taking the little sign by the door and flipping it, the outline of a woman visible now, signaling the start of the session. She moved inside with him, her heart pounding as she shut the door behind her, the heavy silence between them deafening. The bass from the music thumped through the walls of the private room, vibrating the air with its pulse as Y/N stepped in, the door clicking shut behind her. The dim lighting made the space feel smaller, more intimate, as she looked toward Rafe. He was already sitting in the middle of one of the big leather chairs, his posture wide, almost arrogantly so. His thighs spread a little, his eyes focused on her, hungry, predatory.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her cool, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps. She didn’t show him the nerves that crept up her spine- no, she wasn’t going to let him see that. As she got closer, Rafe’s hand extended toward her, patting his lap. The simple gesture made her stomach flip in a way she refused to acknowledge. She hesitated for only a moment before straddling his lap, the heat between them palpable. His eyes locked onto hers as she settled in.

"I'm waiting"

A slow, deliberate roll of her hips immediately answered his demand. She could feel his breath hitch, his hands coming up to rub over her thighs, the touch warm and possessive. She braced her hands on his shoulders, the grip tight as she moved again, the rhythm of her body building with the pounding beat of the music. Rafe hummed under his breath, clearly satisfied. His hands slid up, teasing the skin of her inner thigh, fingertips brushing the edges of her skirt.

"Not seen you in a while Bunny"

He muttered, voice low and rich with something close to amusement as his head leaned back agaisnt the chair. Y/N smirked, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

"Not long enough."

His lips curled into a smirk at that, but there was something deeper behind his eyes. As he spoke, his tone almost as if he was savouring the moment.

"Missed that bitchy attitude of yours"

Y/N’s gaze remained locked with his, her body swaying in time with the music, but her mind was elsewhere. Her fingers dug into his shoulders slightly, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he pulled her in closer with every roll of her hips. She could feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of it settling on her skin causing it to prickle. It only fuelled her determination to make him feel something.

To make him sweat under the same intensity she felt.

His hand slid up her body, sliding over her hips, pausing at the soft skin of her waist before making its way to the centre of her top, fingers lingering by the bow of the material keeping her tits covered. Before she could react, his fingers curled around the soft cotton, tugging at the tie letting the material fall open in response to the action. Y/N bit her tongue, swallowing down her snarky comment, instead her hands came up to pull the top off- revealing the smallest bikini top she owned. It barely covered anything, the triangles of fabric just barely containing her tits. Rafe's eyes flicked down, his gaze darkening as he let out a hum, much deeper than the last. His thumb ran over the edge of the triangle shaped fabric, skimming along the soft swell of her breast.

His hands then slid lower to her hips, pulling her down just a little closer against him. His grip tightened, fingers pressing into her skin as he guided her movements, making sure she felt the full weight of his presence beneath her. He leaned in closer, the heat of his breath washing over her neck, sending a small shiver down her spine. She swallowed, the knot in her throat tightening as he whispered to her,

"Did you miss me, Bunny?"

Y/N’s breath caught, her pulse quickening at the sound of his voice- low, teasing, so incredibly close to her skin. Her body felt hot suddenly, like the room had sweltered into something far more intense. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way, not with him, not with everything that had already passed between them. Her mind raced, and for a brief moment, she couldn't answer. She was caught off guard by the sudden surge of heat flooding her body. The question hung in the air like a weight, as if the answer would say more about her than she wanted it to. She cleared her throat, struggling to steady her pulse as his lips brushed just underneath her ear. The tension between them seemed to stretch, thickening with every passing second. She managed a tight, almost defensive response.

"No"

She said, her voice betraying her own uncertainty as she shifted slightly, the heat between them still uncomfortably intense. Rafe didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands tightened around her hips, pulling her closer again, forcing her to face him, to meet his gaze. There was something dangerous in his eyes- a challenge- but also something else, something far more complicated. He smirked, as though he knew exactly what was going on inside her head, leaning back slightly as he watched her, his gaze never leaving her face.

"I don’t believe you"

He said, his voice low, amusement dancing in his eyes. Y/N felt her stomach twist. She stopped her movements abruptly, the music shifting into a new beat that only seemed to heighten the tension between them and her breath seemed to be heavier now. She could feel the weight of his stare as his fingers trailed down to toy with the hem of her skirt, teasing her with every slight tug of the fabric. He tilted his head, his eyes still locked on her, as though he were reading her every move. He spoke casually, voice dripping with an almost confident sweetness.

"My offer still stands you know..."

"What?"

Y/N blinked, confusion flickering in her gaze. Rafe leaned in just a little, his lips curving into that familiar cocky grin.

"Come back to Tannyhill with me..."

He said, his voice quieter now, but still laced with that undeniable edge. Her stomach dropped, and she shook her head, already pushing herself off of him, feeling that familiar heat rise to her face.

"No"

She said firmly, her tone cold, her chest tight with irritation. Rafe wasn’t done, though. As she moved away from him, his hands shot out to grab her wrists, keeping her close to him and her hands had to come out to steady herself against his chest. His fingers wrapped around her skin like a vice, but not harsh—more like a silent ask for her attention, for her response. He coaxed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"C'mon Y/N- any price you give me"

"No," she repeated, her jaw clenched, her voice rising,

"No- what do you even- no- Rafe just, just stop"

But he wasn’t letting it go even though she was done. She pulled away from him, her chest tight as she turned toward the door. Rafe’s voice followed her as she walked.

"You know I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want"

He said, the words hanging in the air between them. Y/N froze, her hand resting on the door handle. She turned around, her lips curling into a sarcastic smile.

"Yeah? Well, that makes it so much better, doesn’t it?"

She shot back, her voice thick with bitter irony. Rafe didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He only leaned back against the booth with a slight shrug. "Well," he said slowly, his tone a little too calm,

"I’m not gonna change my mind."

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, her hands tightening around the handle. She shot him one last, heated glance before responding, her voice sharp and firm.

"Yeah? Well, neither will I"

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

She walked out of the club, her trainers scuffing against the pavement in the quiet night air, each step louder than the last. The neon lights from the strip club still flickered in the distance, but she was done. She had clocked out early, barely able to keep herself together after that confrontation with Rafe. Her blood was boiling, and her fists were clenched so tight her knuckles ached. She could still feel the heat of his touch, the way his words had wormed their way under her skin.

He had that effect on her- always had.

Y/N chewed on the thought as she crossed the parking lot, heading for her car. It was complicated. She hated what he made her feel. He knew exactly how to push her buttons, how to get under her skin, and it made her want to scream. Yet, at the same time, part of her didn’t want to walk away, even though her stomach twisted at the thought of him. She hated that she couldn’t escape the pull he had on her. He was everything she didn’t want. And still, there she was, thinking about him when she could be focusing on anything else. Her thoughts were swirling as she made her way to her car, trying to push away the lingering feeling of his presence. She’d never been so conflicted in her life. She slid her bag into the trunk of the car, the weight of the night still pressing down on her, and just as she was about to shut the boot, a voice interrupted her.

"Hey! Hey, excuse me!"

She paused and looked up, her jaw tightening as she saw a guy walking toward her. He was dressed well, too well for someone she'd expect to see around here, and there was something about the way his pupils were blown wide that immediately caught her attention. "Um, yeah?" she responded, clearly annoyed, her arms folding across her chest.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh uh, you're Bunny, right?"

The guy seemed a little flustered as he stopped in front of her, running a hand through his hair, a nervous energy radiating off him. Y/N let out a small sigh, rolling her eyes to herself, her fingers gripping the edge of the trunk.

"Look, I’m not working anymore..."

The guy blinked, quickly recovering, "Oh—oh right. Well, will you be back tonight or…?"

"No, I'm done for the night"

She replied curtly, closing the trunk with a firm click. She was done with the whole night, with the club, and especially with thinking about Rafe. "Right, right," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to find his words.

"I saw you inside, and… I just wanted to say you were..."

"I was…?"

She trailed off, her patience already wearing thin. Y/N shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not really in the mood for small talk. He spoke, his voice a little too eager, his words almost slurring slightly as if he'd had a few too many drinks.

"...you were really good"

"Thanks"

She muttered, already turning to head for her driver's door, hoping he'd take the hint. But no, he was still following her, his steps quickening as he tried to keep up. "You see," he continued,

"I was inside, and I was talking to that guy and I was going to ask you for a priv—"

"-Look, this is really nice of you and all, but I really just wanna get home."

She cut him off before he could finish, her tone sharp. The guy stopped, his face falling slightly as he realized she wasn’t interested. He gave a small nod, raising his hands a little. But he didn't move. Y/N turned to face the guy again as he didn’t back off. He was still standing a few steps away, an uncomfortable eagerness in his stance.

"I'll pay you well"

He said, trying to sound persuasive, his voice a little more insistent. She scoffed, shaking her head. Her voice was thick with disbelief, the last thread of patience she had snapping.

"Are you for real right now?"

"Come on, I’ll pay you double."

He stepped a little closer, his eyes scanning her like and Y/N’s jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the handle of the car door as she stood between the two cars taking a step back, trying to put distance between them.

"Just back off man"

But he didn’t listen and instead took another step forward, clearly ignoring every signal she was giving him, and she felt the anger building in her chest.

"I fucking said, back up!"

She snapped, her voice cold and sharp. The guy hesitated for just a second, but then his eyes hardened, the uncomfortable edge of desperation turning into something intimidating. 

He clearly wasn’t backing off

taglist: @xoxosblogsblog @moonywhisp3rs @i-love-gvf @my-name-is-baby @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @mariamadison6-blog @rafesgurl @rafecameronswhoore @lovelytoomusic @mysticbby2009 @vanessa-rafesgirl @silkenthusiasts @partygirl14 @amterasuu @xoxo-ada @icaqttt @ivysprophecy @mauvesmax @larema121 @ggraycelynn @emeloyy @pluviophilis @slut-4-gojo @willowpains @wtfisastiles @rafecqmeronslove @pleasstory @lolasangelz @beau-dabomb @psychocitylights @constantsadness @rhianthebest @emmiesummers @sfotiegiuls @ggraycelynn @larema121 @emeloyy @pluviophilis @urgoldens @insominagirlss @urfavoritebrunette007 @mauvesmax @miniiminie @kythefangirl25 @niyalovests @scream4mami @aizawawify @prettybabyyyy @barbiefan14 @keennerdslover @rafeysslut @rafeysworldim19 @jennieonline @hannieskzzz @sugak00kie03 @gabrielaperez11 @simonejacpbsen @bambigirl10 @prettycoochieee @dreamybabbyy @annoyingprincebread @mattyskies @meeuhsworld

[nekoashiii]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Not now!

Notes: masterlist \ Part 1

Summary: Your husband is calling you, but a little gremlin keeps declining it.

Tag: @teewritessmth @mitskunicheesecake @rcvcgers @vspxriddles @iloveh4nge

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Zayne

Zayne sat in the doctor’s lounge, his phone pressed to his ear as he listened to the call ring. Once. Twice. Then—

Call Declined.

His brows furrowed slightly. His hands, steady enough to perform the most delicate heart surgeries, tightened around the phone. He tried again.

Ring. Ring.

Call Declined.

Zayne exhaled slowly through his nose, his grip relaxing, Maybe you were busy. You were probably playing with Elias or cooking dinner Mayne in the shower? He wasn’t the type to overthink, but something about the repeated declines made his stomach twist in a way he wasn’t happy about.

Still, he didn’t want to be a nuisance or cause you unnecessary troubles. He wasn’t the type to text “Call me” like other husbands either, He just sat there for a moment, staring at his phone, before getting up and heading back to work.

He had patients waiting.

Back home, Elias sat cross-legged on the couch, his tiny fingers curled around your phone. Every time it vibrated, his eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he pressed the red button.

“Papa’s calling,” you pointed out, watching from the kitchen as Elias, without a second thought, hung up again.

He didn’t say a word. Just held the phone like a little dragon hoarding treasure.

You wiped your hands on a towel and walked over, sitting beside him. “Sweetheart, why are you declining Papa’s calls?”

Elias finally looked up at you. His expression was unreadable—so much like Zayne’s that it almost made you laugh. After a moment, he mumbled, “He’s busy.”

You blinked. “That’s why you’re hanging up on him?”

A short nod.

Your heart softened. Elias was a quiet child, much like his father, and even at four years old, he had an odd way of thinking. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t being stubborn. In his little mind, he just thought he was helping.

You smiled and ran a hand through his soft raven colored hair. “Baby, Papa wouldn’t call if he didn’t want to talk. He’s probably on a break and missing us.”

Elias frowned slightly, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He shifted on the couch, staring at the phone. “…Oh.”

You chuckled. “Should we call him back?”

Elias hesitated, then nodded.

Zayne was halfway through reviewing a patient’s chart when his phone vibrated.

Incoming Call: My Love

His fingers moved instinctively, answering before the first ring finished. “Hello?”

“Papa.”

Zayne blinked. It wasn’t you. It was Elias.

The little voice on the other end sounded almost… guilty?

“Elias.” Zayne glanced at the time. “You should be in bed soon.”

A pause. Then, in a quieter voice, “…I hung up your calls.”

Zayne froze. He hadn’t expected that. His first instinct was to ask why, but before he could, Elias continued.

“You were busy. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

Zayne’s grip on the phone tightened. He looked down at his hands, But right now, his own heart ached in a different way.

He wasn’t good with words. Never had been. But there was one thing he knew.

“Elias.” His voice was firm, steady. “You never bother me.”

Another pause.

Then, a quiet, “…Oh.”

Zayne exhaled. “Is Mama there?”

You took the phone, laughing softly. “Your son thought he was being considerate.”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did.” His voice was softer than usual. “Tell him he can always pick up my calls.”

“I think he understands now.” You turned to Elias, who was now curled against your side, looking deep in thought. “Say goodnight to Papa.”

Elias hesitated, then muttered, “Goodnight, Papa.”

Zayne swallowed. He wished he was home.

“Goodnight, Elias. I’ll see you in the morning.”

When Zayne finally stepped through the door that night, the house was quiet. You were already in bed, and Elias was asleep in his room.

Or so he thought.

As he passed Elias’ door, a tiny voice mumbled, “…father?”

Zayne stopped. Slowly, he pushed the door open.

Elias was sitting up in bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

Zayne hesitated. He wasn’t good at this. But he walked inside, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Elias didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out with his small hands and grabbed onto Zayne’s sleeve. Not saying anything, just… holding on.

Zayne stared at him before sitting on the edge of his bed.

Then, without a word, he gently rested a hand on his son’s head.

It wasn’t much.

But for them, it was enough.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Xavier

Xavier stood in the middle of a blood-soaked battlefield, his sword still dripping as he exhaled. The fight had been over in minutes—another nest of Wanderers cleared out.

He wasn’t in a hurry to return to headquarters. Instead, he yawned and pulled out his phone, pressing your number.

Ring. Ring.

Call Declined.

Xavier stared at the screen, brow twitching slightly. That was odd. He tried again.

Call Declined.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He wasn’t a man prone to overreaction, but something about his own family declining his calls irritated him. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe you were busy. Maybe—

He teleported.

One second, he was in a ruined village surrounded by monster corpses. The next, he was in the living room of his own home.

The sight that greeted him made his left eye twitch.

Leo and Livia—his five-year-old twins—were sitting on the couch, your phone between them, giggling.

Livia saw him first. Her eyes widened, and she smacked Leo’s arm. “Abort mission! Papa’s here!”

Leo nearly dropped the phone. “Crap.”

Xavier didn’t speak for a moment. He simply stared, exhausted, disappointed, and vaguely impressed all at once. “…You two.”

The twins immediately shot to their feet, but it was too late. He was already in front of them, towering over their tiny forms. His sword was still strapped to his back, his hunter uniform stained with dried Wanderer blood.

They didn’t look scared. If anything, they looked ready to bolt.

“…Explain.” His voice was even, calm—but that made it worse.

The twins exchanged glances before Livia, ever the mastermind, said, “Mom said you were busy!”

Leo nodded rapidly. “Yeah! You were fighting monsters, right? We didn’t wanna bother you!”

Xavier sighed through his nose, rubbing his temples. “You declined my calls.”

Livia pouted. “Well… yeah.”

He inhaled deeply. He was not good at this. Discipline, affection—none of it came naturally to him. He could gut a monster in seconds, but parenting? That was an entirely different battlefield.

He crossed his arms, giving them a firm look. “That’s not happening again.”

Leo groaned. “But why? You never talk much anyway!”

Xavier blinked. He squatted down to their level, eyes narrowing. “You have a death wish, don’t you?”

Livia elbowed Leo. “Idiot. Now we’re really in trouble.”

Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted beyond belief. He should just pick them up and force them into a timeout—he had the strength for it. But before he could, Livia clapped her hands together.

“Leo, Plan B!”

Leo gasped. “Yes, Plan B!”

Xavier frowned. “What the—”

Before he could react, Livia sprinted left while Leo ran right.

Teleportation was an option, but honestly? He was too damn tired. He just sighed and walked toward the kitchen, knowing exactly where they’d end up.

And there you were, standing at the counter, watching the chaos unfold like it was a normal Tuesday.

Without looking at him, you asked, “I take it you figured out why your calls weren’t getting through?”

Xavier leaned against the counter, exhaling. “Your kids are demons.”

You raised a brow. “My kids?”

He gave you a tired look. “They didn’t get it from me.”

Before you could argue, the sound of a crash echoed from upstairs.

A beat of silence. Then Leo’s voice: “I’LL FIX IT, I PROMISE!”

Xavier closed his eyes, counting to ten.

An hour later, the twins sat on the couch, pouting as Xavier stood in front of them. He wasn’t a loud father. He didn’t yell. But his silent disappointment was somehow worse.

“You’re not getting out of this,” he finally said.

Livia crossed her arms. “It was for a good reason.”

“It was for a stupid reason.”

Leo kicked his legs. “But we didn’t wanna distract you.”

Xavier sighed, rubbing his face. “…You’re my kids. You can always talk to me.”

Livia blinked. “Even when you’re fighting monsters?”

He crouched down, staring at them. “Especially then.”

For the first time, the twins looked guilty.

Xavier softened just a fraction. He wasn’t great at showing affection to kids. He wasn’t the type to hug them randomly or constantly hold them. But he reached out, ruffling their hair roughly or cuddle up with his little demons.

“Next time you hang up on me, I’m making you run laps.”

Leo gasped. “That’s child labor!”

Livia clutched her chest. “You’re cruel, Father.”

Xavier stood, sighing. “You’ll live.”

That night, when the twins were asleep, Xavier sat beside you in bed, rubbing his temples.

“I don’t know how to handle them.”

You smiled, playing with his hair. “You’re doing fine.”

He scoffed. “They don’t listen to me at all.”

You chuckled. “They do. They just like pushing your buttons.”

Xavier sighed, leaning into your touch. “…Next time they ignore my calls, I’m teleporting them into a cold lake.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sure you are.”

Xavier didn’t respond. He just yawned, closed his eyes, and finally—finally—slept.

[apatheticsunday]

Adopt a Bat Dad

AKA "Danny becomes de-aged in Gotham and finds the only person he knows who can probably help. Bruce Wayne, the Batman. Except Bruce thinks Danny is a kid mistaking him for his dad??" prompt idea!!

HC that Bruce Wayne and Jack Fenton look super similar. Therefore, Danny and Bruce also look pretty similar!!

I love the idea that Danny already knows Bruce Wayne is Batman. Maybe it's his aura or because the amount of kids Bruce has directly correlates to the amount of bat-themed sidekicks there are. Who knows? Anyway, Danny comes into a small bit of trouble. He may or may not have insulted an immortal witch who cursed him because he's an "immature child, may as well look as young as you act!"

So. Now Danny looks a solid 3-4 years old. It's a good thing that Sam and Tucker briefed him on all he celebrity gossip before he came to Gotham, because he coincidentally knows where the Wayne Enterprise building is. He... can figure it out. Probably. It's actually alarming how many people watch what they think is an unaccompanied kid huff and puff his way in downtown Gotham. (Also, wow, Danny severely underestimated how difficult it is to run after being babified.) But he does make it to the general area of where WE is supposed to be!

His legs are practically shaking at this point, sweating through his toddler-sized NASA hoodie, and searching frantically for Bruce Wayne. Because he really didn't think of it before, but it's Friday afternoon. What if Mr. Batman isn't at WE today? What if Danny gets to WE after 5pm and he's gone until Monday? Would Danny even be able to find the Wayne Manor, much less get transportation there?

Except as Danny's becoming increasingly worried (don't cry, don't cry, don't cry), he spots... his dad?? in the coffee shop windows beside him. No, not his dad. Bruce fucking Wayne! Hell, yeah! Danny smacks open the doors of the coffee shop with single-minded toddler-clumsy determination. Makes a bee-line straight to the coffee pick-up. Bruce Wayne is standing off to the side, quietly speaking on his phone, as Danny practically slams face-first into his knees. Thankfully, it doesn't take either of them down, but it is particularly embarrassing.

Especially when Danny clutches to Batman's pant leg and confidently shouts, "Batman!" Except... he doesn't. A weird jumble of words come out of his mouth that sound more like baba! It's like the world screeches to a stop because, first of all, what the fuck. Second, that bitch witch! She must've made it so whatever he says comes out in toddler-speak despite the fact that he should be able to say somewhat comprehensible sentences, being he's physically 3-4.

That doesn't stop him from trying, though, so he ends up babbling baba, baba, baba in an increasingly frustrated tone.

And Bruce Wayne, who's become used to Damian calling him baba instead of Father, can only stare down at this child who could pass as his clone. The similarities are striking. Even if the toddler is huffing, red-cheeked and clearly on the verge of crying, he looks so much like Bruce that he wonders momentarily if it's another Damian situation.

Regardless, there's a kid crying in front of him, tugging on his pant leg and calling for his dad. And Bruce is nothing if not absolutely weak-hearted against stuff like this. So, he leans down and just... scoops the kid up. Murmurs, "Shh, it's okay, kiddo. You're okay." Pats the kid's back, sways. Completely forgets he's in a crowded coffee (this is definitely going on YouTube, posted under 'Wayne Adopts Another??') and that he's on a phone call with Dick. It's like his Dad Instincts kick in and he's completely focused on Danny.

Danny is... bewildered. Because why is the Batman coddling him?? Except he notices that others have noticed, and have their phones out recording, which is really Not Good. He's not super confident that his parents would be able to recognize him while he's de-aged, but the fact that they might? That's opening a can of worms he can't handle at the moment. So his little string bean arms loop around Bruce's neck and he shoves his face into the collar of the man's suit. Much to his irritation, he can hear several girls next to him coo and giggle about him being such a cute baby. Danny's really regretting not approaching Batman privately now.

And it doesn't end!!

Bruce calms the kid down and then immediately goes to the store manager, asking if any parents have lost their child. He doesn't trust that someone may claim Danny as theirs when that may not be the case. Then, he calls up Gordon, asks about any missing person reports on a child the ages of 2-5 with average height, medium build, and black hair. No hits. Eventually, Bruce makes up his mind and takes Danny home with him. Oracle will likely be able to pull more information than the GCPD anyways.

Meanwhile, Danny zonks out. Like full on, toddler-sprawl open-mouth drooling, because it's been a long day and he got Batman. He did it! And from the way Bruce is still carrying him, Danny will likely be with him for a little while. A little catnap will do him some good. Maybe when he wakes up, he'll magically have the ability to speak normally instead of hysterically babble.

(Four hours later, Danny wakes up on the couch at Wayne Manor, bundled up in super soft blankets with Bruce talking on the phone with some woman. Bruce smiles at the way Danny says baba again. Danny's ready to throw that witch into Bruce's well-maintained fireplace because screaming son of bitch isn't as satisfying when it sounds like sa-bA-BAH!!")

Cue Danny doing increasingly ridiculous things to make The "Greatest Detective" Batman realize he's not a literal baby and Bruce Wayne so enamored with this little kid that he does not realize.

[cyberyam]

taboo.

pairing: priest!kento x slutty!reader cw: plz don’t read if you’re religious ; church sex ; smut [mdni!!! 18+!!!] ; face fucking sum: slutty!reader seduces priest!kento after his sermon.

an. for context—orthodox communion is taken with the congregant on their knees before the priest, so this is what i'll be rolling with. mua x

priest!kento, who dreaded communion, knowing what to expect when sunday arrived. you, kneeling before him, looking up through heavy lashes, tongue out, waiting—patient, obedient—as he rested the wafer on your tongue. and when you drank the wine, the way your lips pursed around the goblet, still holding his gaze, unblinking. the way the red dribbled past the corner of your mouth, trailing down your chin before you licked it away.

priest!kento, who dreaded the way you would smile after, soft and sweet, pressing a reverent kiss to his knuckles. your lips always lingered for longer than needed, before your eyes fluttered over and you murmured, “thank you, father,” with that twinkle in your eye, a silent invitation—he could not—must not—indulge in.

priest!kento, who delivered his sermon with steady composure—until his eyes found you. unconsciously, they sought you out, lingering a fraction too long when they met your gaze. the slow curl of your lips, the deliberate wink—small, fleeting gestures that had his words faltering, a brief stumble before he swallowed the dryness in his throat and forced himself to look away.

priest!kento, who felt his heart stutter when, after the last of his congregation had gone, the heavy doors of the church groaned open behind him—then shut with a resonating thud, the sound echoing against the marbled walls.

“father?” the voice—familiar, yet only ever heard in passing—called out to him. “i have a confession to make.”

priest!kento, who turned, just enough to see you standing at the entrance, back pressed against the double doors, the dim candlelight casting shadows across your face. then came the soft, unmistakable click of the lock, dull but deafening in the silence of his empty halls.

priest!kento, who swallowed hard before turning to face you in full, a cold sweat breaking out along his brow as he extended a hand. “come, my child,” he called, voice steady despite the weight pressing down on his chest. his heart sank when you bit your lip before taking slow, deliberate strides toward him.

“oh, i will.”

priest!kento, who needed to repent, for he had given in to sin. when you fell to your knees before him, confessing every impure thought in meticulous, breathless detail—how could he ignore the heat pooling low in his stomach, the way his robes grew tight near your face?

“father,” you mumbled, voice light, almost innocent, as if merely recalling what you had eaten for breakfast that morning. “forgive me for my impure thoughts—for i can’t help but imagine you bending me over the altar, your fingers wrapped around my neck as you take me from behind.”

priest!kento, whose mouth ran dry as he tried to offer counsel, but the cracks in his usual stoic composure were all the encouragement you needed to keep confessing.

"forgive me, father, for when i go home, i can't help but give in to my lust. i touch myself and imagine it's you instead—your fingers inside me instead of my own. i imagine it's you between my legs, not my vibrator," you murmured, each word measured and deliberate.

your gaze remained fixed on the growing tent before you, watching as the man in front of you shifted, his fingers twitching, his breath uneven as he fought to keep himself concealed.

"entering me, again and again—until i cum all over it, wishing it was your cock instead,” you finished, voice sweet and confessional.

“forgive me, father, for i cry out your name every time i cum.”

priest!kento, who, in a weak attempt at restraint, tried to push your hands away as they toyed with the hem of his robe—only to still when your fingers traced up his clothed thigh. beneath the fabric, you felt it: the ripple of muscle, firm and coiled with tension. he had always filled out his robes well, broad-shouldered and tall—but the muscles that hid underneath still came as a surprise.

priest!kento, whose head lolled back as your mouth engulfed his now throbbing cock, guilt saturating his composure as his hips jerked under the warmth of your tongue. his robes hung awkwardly to the side, as his hands found the back of your head—his hands feebly grasping at the base of your hair, yet his needs were ever so desperate.

priest!kento, who held you in place, keeping you still so he could control the pace instead. guilt and pleasure a dangerous mix, winding together in something he couldn’t fight. he loved the way you gagged around him, the way your tear-streaked eyes peered up at him with such devotion, your swollen lips parting for every thrust. the wet, obscene sound of your sputtering filled the halls where, barely an hour earlier, he’d preached righteousness—spoken of living free of sin.

and you loved the burn at the back of your throat, the raw ache that only made you want more. loved the way his hips rolled, the way his grunts deepened, each sound further fraying his composure. you loved how this righteous man—so usually steadfast—would curse in his own confessional, voice wrecked as your tongue flicked over his slit, your fingers teasing the thick base of his thick cock. his composure, his faith, his very sense of control—shattered, because of you.

priest!kento, who only came to his senses when the heavy knot in his stomach grew unbearable, tearing himself away with a slick pop—intending to push you back, to stop before he drowned. but then, you tugged at his robes, eyes wide and glassy as you gasped for breaths, your flushed chest rising and falling in rapid pants. your voice ever so soft when you asked—

“what’s wrong, father?”

priest!kento, who cursed himself for loving the perversion of his title, for letting his faith crumble at your hands, shoved himself back into your mouth, thrusting deeper. his hips jerked as he spilled down your throat, breath shuddering as he milked the rest of his release into your mouth. and even as he fell still, panting, trembling—he knew.

“forgive me,” was all he could breathe as he watched you swallow, your tongue darting out to catch the last traces on your lips. your smile—sweet and innocent—sent a shudder through him as you looked up from where you knelt, your eyes wide and unashamed.

he knew—he had already fallen too far. and the paintings, the statues lining the holy walls, stood as silent witnesses to his descent.

an. don’t @ me, i told you not to read it if you were religious.

© cyberyam

[akawifeyy]

cologne | fic (OP81)

description: wanting to prank your boyfriend, oscar piastri, you decide to spritz some cologne on yourself.

tropes: prank, established relationship

face claim: none

trigger warnings: mentions of cheating, suggestive content, swearing

| note: it’s a bit late but i wrote this in honor of oscar’s CHINESE GP WIN 😮‍💨 my icon and legend

It was just half an hour before your boyfriend, Oscar Piastri, would arrive home from yet another grueling day of testing. The papaya McLaren he loved so much was sapping up all his energy, and you wished you could get the old Oscar back. You had the perfect idea — the two of you loved to prank each other, so maybe this would be the way to go?

Standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom, you held the clear glass cologne bottle in your hand. It was your father’s, definitely not familiar enough for instant detection, but distinctly masculine.

You took a deep breath and gently sprayed, letting the smell waft over you. Eyes watering, you set it down, adjusting your shirt and plastering on an innocent expression.

Later, Oscar stumbled through the door, his eyes bleary with exhaustion. His muscles bunched with stress, but he looked at you just as lovingly as he did the first time he met you.

“Hello, darling,” he murmured. “I missed you.”

He pulled you in for a hug, arms cocooning you in his blissful warmth and comfort. A moment passed, and you felt him tense. Oscar pulled back, worry lining his face. “Y/N…What’s that smell?” He sniffed you again, confused. “Baby, I’m so — why do you smell like cologne?”

You cocked your head to the side. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You twirled around, walking into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water. “I think you’re too sleep deprived.”

“No,” Oscar said, following behind you determinedly. “I swear…”

You rolled your eyes.

“Did you go somewhere? Was someone with you in the house?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “If there was, you can tell me. I won’t be mad. I just want the truth.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of the cool liquid and letting it settle in your stomach before responding. “No one was here.”

“Y/N, if you’re seeing someone, I’d like to know.”

You froze. “I’m not seeing anyone, Oscar. Jeez.”

“You smell like another man’s cologne, you’ve been home alone while I’ve been away, and you’re really trying to gaslight me? I’m sorry, but I think I deserve to be a little concerned.” Oscar crossed his arms, staring at you with a cold expression. “I’m working hard to provide us with a life, and you could be sneaking around, with someone else? It hurts, Y/N.”

You scoffed, hackles rising. “So you’re calling me a slut? Saying that I’m lying? Fuck you, Oscar.”

“Woah, Y/N, I never said that,” Oscar shot back, voice edged with tension. You knew he hated arguments. “I’m just worried.”

“I’m not fucking another man.” You stormed away from him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Oscar.”

“Then why do you smell like another man?”

You threw your hands up in the air. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough of an answer.” Oscar rubbed his hand across his face, clearly fed up. “I want to believe you, but…”

Incapable of keeping the prank going, because you knew doing so was the wrong thing to do, you huffed. “It was a prank.”

Oscar’s mouth opened as he processed what you had said. “Pardon me, darling?”

“It’s my father’s cologne.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry for yelling at you, and accusing you of things you didn’t do.” Oscar stepped close to you, kissing you on your forehead. “I just love you, is all, and I thought… I thought maybe you didn’t love me anymore. That I wasn’t enough.”

You pouted. “You’re perfect, Oscar.”

“Sure.” He kissed you again, his hand resting on your jaw. “I really hope you think so.”

“I know so.”

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

With time

Summary: Owning a flower shop across the cemetery leaves you to meet a wide variety of people. Including Joel Miller.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3.9k

Rating: T

Warnings: no outbreak AU, kind of a flower shop AU?, Sarah dies :( , strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of car accidents and injuries, angst, grief, mentions of attempted suicide, healing, fluff, a little bit of oblivious idiots, time jumps, mentions of pregnancy, just really fluffy at the end

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

You had read about it in a newspaper. 

A terrible car accident. A drunk driver hit a car, a father and daughter driving home after a soccer game her team had won. The father had been in a coma for three days, having to learn that his daughter had sadly not survived the accident after he finally woke up. 

Sarah Miller. 

A thirteen year old girl. 

Dead because of a reckless drunk driver. 

You remembered her and her father, how could you not? 

Sarah used to ask you a million questions about every single flower and you always answered each and every one of them, loving the way her eye lit up every time she learned something new.

They visited your store occasionally, buying the brightest flowers for her Grandma who had passed away a couple years before. She had told you that her Grandma loved sunflowers before proceeding to beg her father to buy the biggest arrangement of sunflowers for her grandma’s birthday the last time they had been here. 

You remembered the way her father had sighed seemingly annoyed, yet fighting against a smile before he had looked at you and asked you how much all the sunflowers would be. 

You remembered thinking how handsome that man was. How happy, how… warm it felt when he looked at you, his brown eyes so full of life.

He somehow always seemed to be already looking at you before you could look at him and for a while you even thought maybe, maybe you should ask him out. 

The man sitting in front of you in a wheelchair now was a much different version of the happy man you had met back then. 

He looked broken. 

Dark circles under his eyes, almost healed scratches littering the left side of his head. The man next to him, his brother Tommy was talking. Looking equally as exhausted but the look he gave his brother, Joel you learned, every now and then was downright devastating. As if he was waiting for his brother to shatter into a million pieces right in front of his eyes. 

You knew they had waited as long as they could to arrange the funeral so Joel could be there. The funeral home had contacted you a week ago, explaining the situation and ordered flowers and arrangements. 

The funeral would be tomorrow and the amount of flowers that had been ordered for the sad occasion was overwhelming even for you. 

A sea of purple, pink and blue flowers had been delivered this morning and you and your employees would spend all day binding the flowers so they’d be ready tomorrow. 

For Sarah. 

A little girl taken way too soon from this world. 

„We just wanted to check…“ Tommy Miller said again, gazing down at his brother whose eyes were fixed on something behind you. 

„Everything will be ready for tomorrow. I’ll take care of everything myself,“ you said gently and saw him swallow, before he nodded. 

„Joel?“ He asked and the man blinked once before he looked up at him. 

„Anything you wanna add?“ He only shook his head, before he looked away again and Tommy closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. His eyes were watery when he opened them again. 

„Thank you,“ he whispered as he stepped behind the wheelchair and began to turn it. 

„I am so sorry for your loss,“ you said quietly and for the first time Joel looked at you. 

The amount of pain in his eyes made it hard for you to breathe as he looked at you, before his eyes glanced again at something behind your head before his brother led him out of the shop. 

When you turned around you noticed the big vase of sunflowers behind you. 

The shop was busy. Strangely busy. 

It was a normal Friday afternoon, at least you thought so. No special holidays were coming up, yet the people kept flooding into your little store. 

Sure, the location of your shop right across the cemetery guaranteed business for you. It was one of the reasons you had invested in it almost six years ago. But lately, with the start of your social media page (well, your niece Ellie started the page for you) people from all over town came to buy your flowers. You even had orders for a hand full of weddings later this year. 

Business was good. So good that you were thinking about expanding and maybe adding a greenhouse to start growing some of your own flowers instead of ordering everything from the various flower markets you were working with. 

You were in the back, working on your order for the next couple of weeks when Kat, one of the girls working in the front asked you if we had any purple flowers in the back. You nodded, knowing you saw some purple hyacinths earlier, telling her you’d look and bring them to the front when you found them. 

And there in one of the back corners they were, beautiful purple hyacinths you had ordered the week before. 

Ever since that rainy day that October you found yourself adding an order of purple flowers to your orders. 

Never in your life had you seen a sea of so much purple flowers at a funeral. Not only from your shop but delivered from all across town, paying respect to a little girl called Sarah, taken too soon from her life. 

You had lingered in the far back during the funeral, hiding under a big umbrella, finding yourself unable to just walk away. There was so much grief and sorrow in the air. The rain hadn’t stopped all day. As if some higher power was crying too. 

Yet in the moment where you saw the wheelchair that had a grieving father sitting in it being pushed towards the grave, stopping so he could say goodbye to his little girl for one last time the sun had come out, a rainbow forming within minutes. You heard the sob all the way to where you were standing, tears springing into your eyes before you decided it was time to leave. 

You found yourself drawn to her grave since that day. 

And one day, after noticing that Sarah Miller never had gotten new flowers after the ones of her funeral had withered, you started bringing her flowers. Every other week. 

Occasionally Tommy Miller, her uncle, came in to buy some daisies. You would clean them from the grave once they too had withered, replacing them with a fresh batch of seasonal purple flowers. 

It must have been her favourite colour form the amount of flowers at her funeral.

But months after the funeral Tommy had stopped coming too. You hadn’t seen him since. 

And you hadn’t seen her father Joel in the four years since he left your shop the day before the funeral, broken and grieving. 

You were sure he had his reasons, finding yourself responsible somehow to spend some time with the girl until her family was ready to visit her. 

You were quite surprised to find Joel lingering at the counter of your shop when you brought out the hyacinths. Telling Kat that you would take care of this she nodded, already walking towards a new customer who needed some help. 

„Mr. Miller,“ you said softly and he turned around, looking at you, surprised. 

„Joel, please,“ he said with a tight lipped smile. 

He looked…. Older. Deep lines around his eyes, his unkempt facial hair had some greys. 

He looked like the weight of the world rested on his shoulder. Which did not mean he wasn’t attractive anymore. The opposite really. 

„Joel,“ you said gently, „You wanted some purple flowers?“ you asked and he nodded. 

„Yeah. Uh…. I want a small bouquet of flowers. Purple, pink maybe blue?“ He asked, seeming nervous. 

You gave him a small smile. 

„Of course. You want to chose the flowers or should I? Apart from these of course. I do not have any other purples left i am afraid,“ you gestured to the hyacinths you had laid down on the counter. 

„You, please Ma’m,“ he said and you nodded. Taking deep breath when you turned away from him you drifted through your shop, reaching for some gerberas and snapdragons and some greens to fill out the bouquet before you made your way back to the counter. 

He was still leaning against the counter when you got back, looking at the hyacinths. Slowly you began to arrange the flowers, all under the watchful eyes of him. 

„I never thanked you for all the flowers. For the work you did with them at,“ he cleared his throat, „at the funeral,“ he said quietly. 

You finished binding the flowers before you looked up at him. 

„She deserved to have the best of the best that day. She was a special girl,“ you said as you looked at him and he nodded, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. When his eyes opened you could see just how hard this was for him. 

His life had changed in a matter of seconds and he was still dealing with the aftermath. 

You had read about the trial. 

The driver had been the CEO of some big tech company, now in prison until he would die there. You also read about the settlement after he had been sued for wrongful death, rumoured to be in the tens of millions. 

„She was a special girl,“ Joel whispered and you found yourself reaching over, putting your hand on top of his. He looked at you then and for a moment you forgot that you were in the middle of your busy flower shop. 

„What do I owe you?“ He asked and you shook your head. 

„It’s a gift. A birthday gift for her,“ you added quietly and you could read the surprise in his eyes. You knew it would be her eighteenth birthday today. 

Joel Miller looked at you, really looked at you then. 

You have him a small smile and he released a shaky breath before ever so slowly the corners of his mouth lifted. 

„Thank you. She’ll love it,“ he said. 

You watched him as he took the bouquet from you, giving you one last glance before he walked out of the shop and across the street. 

„You know him?“ Lisa, one of your employees and one of your closest friends asked after he left. 

You shook your head. 

„Not really. His daughter died in a car crash some years ago and I did the flowers for the funeral. Never seen so many flowers in my life,“ you said. 

„She the girl you bring flowers to?“ She asked and you nodded. 

Lisa hummed. 

„He’s hot,“ she added and you rolled your eyes with an oh my god before you disappeared back into the back into your office, still hearing her cackling. 

You wondered, if you would see Joel Miller again. 

„The contractor is here,“ Lisa knocked on your door and you looked up from where you were cutting roses to arrange them for small bouquets later. You nodded with a smile, having heard that the architect you had hired for the remodelling of the shop and the two greenhouses had arrived already. 

Washing your hands you took a look at the small mirror over the sink, deciding that you looked okay enough to meet with them. 

The architect, Tess, had come highly recommended by a friend of yours who had remodelled his office space a year ago. The two of you had clicked immediately and you loved the plans she had worked out. 

With the loan worked out now all that was left were the permits. 

Tess had said that she worked with a small contractor business that was still pretty knew but did great work. And you decided to trust her. 

Hugging her when you saw her you were excited to start this new project. 

Since launching the online shop a couple months ago you had hired additional help. Business was running more than good and you were ready to expand it. 

„This is the contractor I told you about, Joel Miller,“ she said and your eyebrows raised in surprise when the man turned around. 

„Oh, Hi Joel,“ you said with a wide smile. He chuckled as he waved rather awkwardly.

„You know each other?“ Tess asked, also surprised. 

Oh yes, you knew each other. Since that day where Joel had picked up the flower bouquet for Sarah’s birthday he had been back regularly. Every two to four weeks. Buying fresh flowers for Sarah before he walked towards the cemetery. 

Once, he hadn’t been in for almost four weeks it was him who found you at her grave, having just put in fresh new flowers under the white marble stone that read Sarah’s name. 

You still couldn’t point your finger as to why you were so drawn to her, but you decided to not question it anymore. 

Joel had been surprised to see you there. And you had rather embarrassed confessed that you had brought her flowers ever since her funeral so she had something pretty with her. 

He had invited you for a coffee after and ever since that day you would call Joel Miller a friend.

„I literally told you yesterday I was meeting up with a contractor, you could have told me,“ you said with narrowed eyes. He just winked at you. 

„Now where would be the fun in that, Darlin’?“ He said and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a small smile. Tess had a strange expression on her face when you looked at her and you made a sorry face. 

„We know each other. We’re….“ You looked at him, not really knowing how to label it. You were friends. Kind of? You don’t really spend much time together. He comes into your shop to buy flowers for his daughter’s grave and sometimes you have coffee. And, though it could be your imagination, sometimes he even flirted with you. 

„We’re friends,“ Joel said looking at Tess and you felt like you were missing something between them before Tess turned to you, smile plastered on her face. 

„Let’s talk about your new flower shop?" She asked, a little forced and you nodded, before you followed her outside, Joel following behind you. 

The meeting was a little awkward.

There was a tension in the air which definitely did not have to do with you but with whatever was going on between Joel and Tess. It left you in your thoughts as you closed down the shop for the night, having pondered over it ever since both Tess and Joel had left. 

Construction plans were finished, now you were waiting for the permit before construction could start, hopefully within the next two months. 

Were they a couple?

They didn’t seem like a couple. Not that it was any of your business. You were his… friend. He said so. Not that you would mind being more, but you were way to shy and awkward to ask him out. You weren’t even sure if he would be interested. God, why was being an adult so fucking hard?

You jumped when you heard a knock on the door, looking up to see Joel stand there. He was still wearing the red flannel shirt he had on when he left and you frowned before you made your way over to the door, unlocking it to let him in. 

„Is everything okay?“ You asked. He walked further into the store, hand rubbing over his neck as you locked the door again. 

„I want to apologise,“ he said. You tilted your head. 

„For me and Tess earlier. We’re…. It’s complicated. And it made the whole thing awkward,“ he explained. You walked towards the counter, jumping up so you could sit. 

„You don’t owe me any explanation. But if you want to talk, I’m here,“ you said and he sighed, before he followed you, sitting down on the counter next to you. 

You were sitting for a while before he began to talk.

„I went into a deep hole when Sarah died,“ he began after a while. You looked up at him. 

„The day after her funeral, I wanted…. I didn’t see any point of living when my little girl wasn’t here anymore. I was ready. I really was but at the last moment I flinched,“ he said any you inhaled sharply as he brought his fingers up to rub over his temple. You had noticed the scar but would never have asked. 

„I went to a clinic in Wyoming for a year. Worked through the injuries from the accident and the grief. Tommy, my brother, he couldn’t take it and enlisted. He only got back last year.

Anyways, it’s where I met Tess. She was at the clinic too. Not my story to tell but she lost someone too and needed some help to get better. I think…. I think we bonded over what we lost and became… intimate?“ He looked at you from the corner of his eyes but you just nodded. 

„Thing is I told her from the beginning that this would never become more. She’s…. She’s a great woman but she also reminds me of the worst time of my life. We stopped seeing each other when I left the clinic, but she moved here when she got a new job and I think she still thought that there could be something more between me and her. So she’s been giving construction work to my new business and because I want this business to succeed I took it. I talked to her again today. I think she understands now but… fuck, I’m an asshole really,“ he sighed and you reached over, putting your hand on top of his. 

„Why are you telling me all this?“ You asked softly and he looked at you. He was so close to you.

„I wanted to ask you out,“ he whispered and you gulped. 

„I was talking to Sarah on.. on that day on our way back home, asking her if she would be okay with me asking you out. You don’t know this but she really really liked you. Always kept talking about how you explained each and every flower to her. And I… I haven’t been in a real relationship with any woman since Sarah’s mom left when she was two years old.“

He turned his hand, palm now facing upwards so he could take your hand in his as he took a shaky breath in. 

„She said she’d love it if you got to spend more time with us. She was so happy and then…“ he shook his head and you saw a tear roll down his cheek. Carefully you reached up, brushing it away. 

There were tears in your eyes too. 

All of this was brand-new information to you. He wanted to ask you out? All those years ago?

„It took a long time for me to heal. To get my shit together. And yet I still haven’t asked you out,“ he said, your hand still on his cheek as he looked at you.

„Then do it,“ you whispered, with a small smile.

„Yeah?“ He murmured and you nodded. 

„Do you want to have dinner with me?“ He asked and your smile widened.

„Anytime,“ you said, tilting your chin up, eyes dropping close when his lips softly found yours.

You found yourself sitting on a picnic blanket close to Sarah’s grave. It was a nice afternoon and you had decided to take your lunch break outside, munching on your apple until your real lunch would get here.

Tomorrow, after two years of construction, your life would change. The new flower shop would re-open and you would finally be able to grow your own flowers in the green houses behind it. 

But not only that, in three days you would move in with Joel. Earlier this year he had bought the old Smith property next to where your flower shop was build on. It was a big piece of land with a farm that he had been fixing up these last months. 

Miller brothers construction really became Tommy Miller construction in the last year with Joel putting all his focus on the building of your new flower shop. 

That and…. Him wanting time to spend with his girlfriend. 

Not that he needed to work. You learned that the settlement out of the lawsuit was over 16 million dollars. Money he hadn’t touched until he finally knew what he wanted to do with it.

He had started a girls soccer camp in Sarah’s name that was benefiting families with lower income. And he loved every single second of it. 

Loving Joel Miller was like the world finally clicked into place for you. He was the one piece that you had always searched for without even knowing. After you went on your first date there hasn’t been a day where you had not seen each other. 

You were so sickeningly in love with each other, even Tess, who had been angry at Joel for a while after he told her again that there was no future for the two of them, had to admit that. She was now one of your closest friends, something Joel still found a bit weird sometimes.

„Starting without me?“ You heard Joel behind you and you looked over your shoulder, seeing him carry a bag of take out with him before he sat down next to you. He kissed you, once, twice, three times before he let himself fall on his back with a groan, taking you with him, making you laugh. 

„You were taking too long and I was too hungry,“ you pouted, leaning with your arm on his chest, looking down at him. One of his hands came to rest on your lower stomach, the belly only barely visible by now. 

You had learned two months ago that you were pregnant.

He wrapped one arm around you and you laid down with your head on his chest as you looked up into the blue sky. 

„You think Sarah would like a brother or a sister?“ You asked, his hand still on your belly. 

„I think she would say she didn’t care but deep down she would want a sister,“ he said and you smiled. 

„She would have loved you being her mom“ he whispered and you looked up at him, with tears in your eyes.  

„I’d have loved that too,“ you said quietly and he kissed your forehead. 

You were about to doze off when you felt him move, too tired to open your eyes to check what he was doing. 

„Hey,“ he whispered, his fingers brushing over your cheek. You scrunched up your nose before you opened your eyes to look at him, finding him holding up a ring with his other hand.

„Marry me?“ He asked and sobbed a yes, before you let him kiss you. 

[probablybucky]

FALLING

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and grief

Word count: 2.5k

[Set during TFATWS]

PART TWO

Growing up in small-town Louisiana, you didn't have many options to leave. Sam joined the military. Sarah got married and stayed. You chased your dreams after graduating from college and moved to DC. You regularly returned to visit, but after the blip when Sarah’s husband died, you knew she needed you.

Which is how you found yourself moving back to your small town to support your best friend as she raised her sons. The plan was to find your own place and only stay with Sarah and the boys temporarily, but as time passed, she insisted you stay. You were basically family, after all.

Despite living in the same city as Sam, during the years in DC, the two of you didn’t see each other that often. Especially after he met Steve Rogers. Every once in a while, one of you would send a text, or decide to meet for drinks to exchange stories and catch up.

You were like another sister to Sam, a trusted person to process through the highs and lows of being an Avenger. Sam was the brother you never had. More deeply than anyone, you knew why Sam chose to follow Steve into the fire (despite his belief that the former Winter Soldier was a liability) and you trusted that he was doing what he believed was right. In your last few months of overlap in DC, Sam often shared his frustrations about Bucky, the super soldier ex-assassin who got under Sam’s skin more than anyone else.

After moving home, you saw Sam even less. Knowing the toll it took on Sarah to not have family close was one of the reasons you chose to come back. You and Sarah both knew that Sam couldn’t come back - he had a responsibility.

But Sam’s sporadic visits were Sarah’s lifeline. He was the father figure in the lives of A.J. and Cass. In Sarah’s eyes, whether she realized it or not, he was the glue that held their family together. Sarah was unbelievably proud of him… and unfathomably afraid to lose him.

On the day that Karli Morgenthau called Sarah, you saw clearly the terror in Sarah’s eyes. Sam had always been Sarah’s constant through her grief - the loss of their parents and her husband - and she had just gotten Sam back after the blip.

You were always the one there to pick up the pieces.

You were both relieved when Sam came home a few days later to help fix up the boat. You were relieved for a few days of respite.

Until James Buchanan Barnes showed up. A man you had heard many stories about from Sam, but never actually met. You didn’t have the highest opinion of the former brainwashed assassin because of Sam, but that changed quickly beginning on that day at the dock.

You emerged from the boat, huffing about yet something else that was not working the way it should. You nearly fell overboard when you spotted a man with a metal arm talking to Sam. At the sound of your commotion, both men turned around. Sam raised a brow, while the Winter Soldier's unreadable expression shifted into a smirk.

“I’m Bucky,” He grinned. You tried to step off the boat onto the dock, before losing your balance again in the space in-between. An arm suddenly wrapped around your waist, pulling you fully onto the dock. A metal arm. Breathless and beet red, you managed a sheepish smile, “Y/N.”

“I actually think we should start calling you clumsy. Woman, do you have any sense of balance?” Sam chastised teasingly before turning to answer his ringing phone. You snorted and flushed more as you realized Bucky’s arm was still tightly gripping your waist. You looked up at him curiously, suddenly noticing how tall he was in person and how blue his eyes were.

“I’m Y/N,” You breathed, forgetting words as you looked into his eyes. The corner of Bucky’s mouth curled back into a smirk as he looked down at you,

“Pretty sure you already said that, doll.” He lightly squeezed your waist before finally letting go. You chuckled, trying to cover up your embarrassment and deflect the attention from your blunder.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Sam,” You held out your hand in an effort to shake his, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Funny, he never mentioned you.” His right hand reached out to yours, shaking it as you laughed,

“Well, there isn’t much to tell.” His eyes looked deeply into yours, searching. Sam had warned you about Bucky’s staring problem. But no one had mentioned how it felt to be on the receiving end—like he wasn’t just looking at you, but through you. It was like he could see your soul. His blue eyes were piercing, holding you in place. Warmth lingered where his hand gripped yours. Your heart slammed against your ribs as realization hit—you were still holding onto him. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you pulled away, clearing your throat as you flicked your gaze toward Sam, who was still on the phone. The eye contact with Bucky felt too intimate. And your body was still burning from his touch. He took a deep breath and your eyes snapped to his immediately before a smirk made its way back to his lips,

“Somehow I doubt that.”

The trance you were in shattered when Sam reappeared after his call ended, leaving you alone to think as he and Bucky decided to tackle the water pump.

Questions swirled in your mind. But mainly: What was the Winter Soldier doing in Louisiana helping Sam with the boat? And why did he make you feel like that?

—

After you and Sarah had realized Sam had invited Bucky to stay the night, you found yourself standing over the stove, stirring a pot of grits. You looked out the back window as Sarah, A.J., and Cass played in the yard, smiling softly at your sweet nephews (not by blood, but you were certainly their aunt).

You heard the slam of a car door before the screen door swung open with a loud creak.

“Damn, I gotta get some grease on those hinges,” Sam exclaimed, wiping his shoes on the mat and stepping into the kitchen. Bucky hesitantly followed. You rolled your eyes and Sam before smiling as Bucky’s eyes met yours.

“Y’all are right on time for dinner,” You turned off the stove and pushed the window sill above the sink open, “Dinner!”

Sam was already getting plates out of the cabinet,

“Smells amazing. Please tell me you made what I think you did.”

The screen door swung open again with a creak and footsteps padded on the floor.

“Boys, go wash up for supper,” Sarah commanded.

“Race ya!” A.J. called before the two young boys ran down the hall toward their shared bathroom.

Sarah walked into the kitchen before rolling up her sleeves to wash her hands in the sink. Sam bumped her hip with his before grinning at her and sticking his hands under the water. She laughed and dried off her hands, making her way to finish setting the table. You poured the grits into a bowl and stuck a serving spoon in them, before glancing back at Bucky, who was still awkwardly standing in the doorway.

“Better wash up, Bucky,” You teased. The edge of his lips curled up and he made his way into the kitchen, waiting for Sam to finish.

“You’re in for a treat, man, Y/N’s shrimp and grits are the best,” Sam turned from the sink, allowing Bucky to begin washing his hands, “She usually only makes them for special occasions." Sam grinned—and flicked water straight at your face.

“Sam!” You shrieked, startled, losing your grip on the bowl of grits. Before the bowl could spill and coat the kitchen floor, in one fast motion, Bucky grabbed the bowl with one arm, and the other steadied you. You breathed a sigh of relief at not ruining dinner before glaring at Sam who was laughing hysterically with A.J. and Cass. Even Sarah had a smile on her face. Bucky, of course, wore his seemingly signature smirk,

“Couldn’t let your special occasion grits go to waste.” Your face flushed as he grinned, letting go of your arm and handing the bowl of grits to Sarah, who put them on the table.

“Alright, enough of that. Let’s eat before it gets cold,” Sarah laughed, giving you a curious look. Your brain short-circuited for a second as you realized that Bucky had saved you from falling again, before you quickly grabbed the plate of shrimp, setting it on the table next to the salad.

Everyone had already taken their seats, and you slid into the open chair, across from Bucky. The normal dinner table conversation and laughter ensued, with the added quiet presence of Bucky. Every time you looked over at him, you would find him staring back at you.

—

Later that evening, after the dishes had been put away, Sam and Sarah went to put the boys in bed. A.J. insisted on his normal bedtime story from Sarah and an extra one from Sam.

You made your way outside to sit on the dock, only to find it was already occupied. You tried not to be irritated at the interruption of your nightly ritual as you walked down the creaking wood planks. You knew the super soldier could hear you coming. You had spent enough time both hearing about Steve and the few times he had joined you and Sam in the bar in the DC days to remember how sensitive super soldier hearing was.

Unlike at dinner, Bucky didn't even look at you as you plopped down next to him. The silence was thick with tension. You were starting to regret even coming down the dock and interrupting him. The sounds of the bayou surrounded you. The whipper willow, crickets, the sound of the water moving in the wind. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. It was almost like Bucky wasn't even next to you - he was so quiet.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted, "You took my spot." Your eyes flew open at the sound of your own voice betraying you. Bucky stiffened beside you.

"Didn't realize I was stealing your spot," He murmured, "I just needed a little quiet." You felt guilty for your outburst, turning towards him as you understood that he was seeking the same solace as you,

"I get it. Not much quiet around here."

"Especially with Sam around," He muttered. You couldn't help but snort, quickly covering your mouth as you continued to laugh. The corner of his mouth pulled up as he looked at you.

Bucky’s small smirk faded as he stared out at the water, the moonlight illuminating his face. His fingers absent-mindedly drummed against the wood planks. You followed his gaze, letting the quiet settle again.

For a moment, you debated whether to leave him to his thoughts, but instead, you stretched out your legs and leaned back on your hands. “So,” you said, voice soft, “are you actually here to help with the boat, or just supervising?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, shaking his head, “I think Sam just wanted another pair of hands to suffer with him.”

You smirked, “Misery loves company.”

“Exactly,” He glanced at you, eyes catching the soft moonlight. “You always come out here at night?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s the only time everything’s… still.” You exhaled slowly, staring out at the water, “The quiet used to feel lonely. But now I think I need it.”

Bucky’s fingers stilled against the wood. “Yeah,” he murmured, “I know the feeling.”

You turned to look at him, sensing something beneath his words. His expression was unreadable, but the slight furrow of his brow told you there was more on his mind.

“Do you ever feel like…” You hesitated, but when his eyes met yours, something about the way he was watching—listening—made you continue. “Like no matter how much time passes, there’s a version of yourself that you don’t know how to let go of?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. He shifted slightly, one knee bending up as he rested his forearm against it. “Every day,” he finally said. His voice was quiet, rough around the edges.

You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat. “I thought getting out of here, making something of myself, would fix everything. Like if I just kept moving forward, I wouldn’t have to think about the past. But… it follows you.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened slightly, but his voice was steady. “It does.” A pause. Then, softer, “But it doesn’t get to define you.”

You blinked, absorbing that. Of all people, he was the one saying that?

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh at your expression. “What?”

You shook your head, smiling faintly. “Nothing. Just… from everything Sam has told me about you, I just wasn't expecting that.”

Bucky scoffed. “Yeah, well, Sam’s an ass.”

You laughed, and something in his expression shifted—like he wasn’t used to making people laugh, but he liked it.

Silence stretched between you again, but this time it felt easier. Comfortable.

Bucky leaned back on his elbows, mirroring your position. “So, tell me,” he said, tilting his head toward you. “What does Sam say about me?”

You smirked. “Oh, you know. That you have a ‘staring problem.’”

Bucky sighed. “Unbelievable.”

“And that you’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You’re kind of grumpy.”

Bucky turned his head to look at you, raising a brow. You tried to hold back a grin, but the corner of your mouth twitched.

His stare lingered, unreadable at first, but then—something else flickered in his expression. Something softer.

You suddenly felt too warm, despite the cool night air. Looking away, you cleared your throat. “I mean, you are out here brooding on a dock late at night. Seems like grumpy behavior to me.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “You got me there.”

The conversation drifted between teasing and comfortable silence for a long while. At some point, you pulled your knees up to your chest, arms wrapped loosely around them.

Then, after a beat of quiet, Bucky spoke again. “I had a friend who used to say something like that.”

You glanced over. “Like what?”

“About the past.” He exhaled, gaze distant. “He told me I should stop looking at myself like I’m still the same guy I used to be.”

You hesitated, sensing the weight behind his words. “Sounds like a good friend.”

Bucky nodded, but his lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah,” he murmured. “He was.”

Your chest ached at the way he said was.

You shifted slightly, brushing your shoulder against his just enough to let him know you heard him. You didn’t say anything, though. The silence was enough.

Bucky didn’t pull away.

------

Author's note: Okay please let me know what you think! I'm definitely feeling rusty after literal YEARS away from writing. But I have been a mad woman on my laptop for the last 24 hours and this is what came out of it. Part two, anyone? Would appreciate any feedback :)

[bluepurplepinklock]

"A part of my family..."

Isagi Yoichi x reader, where a nervous you meet his loving parents who practically adopt you. Warning: implied that reader has a toxic/abusive family.

Isagi knows when something is off with you. He is the kind of boyfriend who could always tell changes in your emotions, changes which sometimes even you could not sense.

And Isagi noticed how everytime he would ask about your parents or say he would love to meet them, you would grow quiet and brush it off with a joke or a skillful change of topic.

He saw it, and he just knew, without you ever telling him about it, that your upbringing wasn't as happy as his was.

So he does what he feels is the best and deliberately pushes you to come meet his parents until you give in.

You were nervous the first time you set foot in the Isagi residence. You had worn your best outfit, had the introduction lines you practiced on the top of your fingers, prepared yourself for any questions.

You couldn't remember the last time you were so uptight, and Isagi couldn't hold back his laugh seeing you pace around nervously before you left for dinner at his home, making sure everything about you would be perfect.

Turns out, none of it was needed, because the Isagi parents had practically adopted you the moment they lay eyes on you.

"You won't believe how much he talks about you!" his father laughed, gobbling down the bowl of rice as you all sat around the dinner table.

"Dad!" Isagi shakes his head, and you could see the embarrassment behind his mask of annoyance.

"Oh dear," his mother piled your bowl with more rice, "eat some more!"

Before you could even deny, she picked up a fish with her chopsticks and shoved it in your mouth.

"More like it." she nodded to herself, satisfied as she sat back in her seat.

"We have been waiting so long to meet you," his father smiled at you, "and you are just the angel Yoichi described you were."

"Well now I'm regretting bringing her here." Isagi huffed, his ears red with embarrassment.

"The damage is done," his mother smiles at you, "now I'm afraid I like her more than you. Right, sweetie?"

You blink, not sure how to respond to the warmth creeping in your heart at the loving smiles directed towards you.

"I mean," Isagi sighed, passing you a smile, "I don't mind being your second favourite, mom, if she could be your first."

"It's done then," his father coughed, "dinner at the Isagi residence every Friday, okay?"

"I..." you poke the fish on your plate, as all three of them stare expectantly at you, "I'd love to, but I don't want to interrupt your family din-"

"Outsiders interrupt," his mother's eyes softened as you looked at her, "you, my dear, are a part of this family now."

It felt weird, with the Isagis who always laughed and teased and supported and loved each other.

It felt weird not having the fear of being ridiculed or shunned for something you said. It felt weird to openly talk your heart out, without the fear of unintentionally offending someone and having to face the sudden outburst.

It felt weird, but it felt like home. And before you knew it, it became home, they became family.

"You know, I don't mind," Isagi whispered against your ear that night, as you both cuddled to sleep at your place.

"What?" you mumble sleepily, enveloped in your boyfriend's warm embrace with the bubbling in your chest that his parents' loving smiles planted.

"What mom said," his voice was low, on the brink of sleep as he spooned your legs and pulled your closer, "about you being a part of my family. I don't mind."

You blush, looking up at him to find his sleepy eyes gazing at you.

"Like as an actual part of my family. As an Isagi yourself." He smiled, tracing his fingers down the length of your spine.

"Stop it, Yoichi!" You push him away, your cheeks heating up as your heart flutters at his words.

"Come on, you can't deny you like that too!" he laughs as you playfully punch his shoulders.

©bluepurplepinklock (Do not copy, steal or translate my work)

[meanbossart]

Ok, so, I love your work (clearly as I am also a Patreon member). I have A Novel Experience open in one of my many ADHD tabs (so many tabs *sob*) and I very much want to read it. The problem that I seem to be having is that my OCD brain knows there is so much previous content (the game) that I NEED to know before I read it and I don’t know where to find that content? Or if you’ve even written it down? Is your in game journey somewhere that I haven’t noticed? Or is there just not a fully written account? If it is somewhere, I’d love to read it, please point me in the right direction!

Hey! Well, playing the game (or at least watching a walkthrough of it) and understanding the Dark Urge storyline is kind of required for ANE. You will be very lost otherwise.

Knowing every detail about DU drow's campaign, on the other hand, is absolutely not required to enjoy it - or at least I don't think it is, and I have definitely had people read through it without having prior exposure to this blog. Events are referenced with proper context, there's instances of backstory exposition, and information is fed to you (in a hopefully organic manner) throughout the course of the first few chapters. Indeed, you won't learn about every little minute occurrence or DU drow's opinions about every single person he met throughout the game - but that's what the #du drow lore tag is for and hardly ever relevant to the plot. You learn about his character THROUGH reading ANE as well as you would through browsing the asks in this blog!

BUT, If it eases yours or anyone else's conscience, here's a quick list of some significant events from the game - once again, many of these are either revealed throughout the course of the fic or entirely irrelevant (most are, I'd argue), but I guess it might be fun flavor-text all the same.

ACT 1: -He kills Lae'zel very early in the game. -he saves Mayrina. -He kills Barcus. -He kills Minthara, saves Halsin and helps the tieflings in act 1. He did not help Kagha or unravel her shadowdruid scheme. -He didn't spend the night with anyone at the tiefling party. -He did not visit the creche or go through mountain pass at all. -Astarion's romance triggered late in act 1. He first tells him about being vampire through dialogue after they had sex, and only after that did he try to bite him during a long rest. (Apparently a bug and no longer possible to pull off since patches, but this is the "canonical" order of events for DU drow's story.) -He sides with the duergar mercenaries at grymforge, kills Neere, and lets the gnomes die/remain enslaved.

Act 2: -He was supportive of Shadowheart and her DJ aspirations, though not ecstatic about it. -I got a bug where Gale kept coming onto me despite not being in a romance with him. This is also canon. -He didn't kill Isobel nor let her be kidnapped by Marcus. -He didn't save the imprisoned tieflings or gnomes. -He killed Yurgur after Astarion struck up a deal with Raphael. -He never met Araj. -He let Shadowheart make her own choice during the Nightsong's face-off and she spares her. -He didn't help Halsin cure the land and left him behind. -He recruited Jaheira. -He stomps the Astral Tadpole dead.

Act 3: -He's always antagonistic towards The Emperor. -He helps Shadowheart kill Viconia and she chooses to sacrifice her parents. -He is opposed to Gale pursuing the crown of Karsus. -He strikes up a deal with Gortash. -He convinces Wyll to break his contract AND saves his father from the Iron Throne. -He convinces Astarion to not Ascend and the Spawn are all freed and sent into the Underdark. -He saves Minsc and goes through the whole Nine-Fingers thing (clueless all throughout but hey, he likes Jaheira.) -He steals the Orphic hammer from Raphael's house. -He kills Gortash. -Yenna is the one that gets kidnapped, she dies at Orin's altar. -DU drow refuses Bhaal's gift after killing Orin, dies, and is resurrected by Withers. -He frees Orpheus and makes him turn into a Mindflayer. -Him, Shadowheart, Astarion and Gale kill the Netherbrain. -DU drow kills Orpheus. -Karlach dies at the docks. -Gale restores the crown and Ascends to Godhood (In ANE, this is a process that takes time - so he is not the God of Ambition yet in that timeline.)

Also, I completed the game prior to the Epilogue Party Patch and do not consider anything said or done in it to be canonical in ANE's timeline.

[charlotteking23]

Please stand up if Bruce Wayne was forced to marry the reader and then one day discovered that she was a superhero like him

The Hero's Bride

Bruce Wayne x reader

Summary: You are the daughter of a wealthy businessman forced into a marriage with the prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne. But secrets within your marriage start unfolding.

Warnings: Sorry, it is not as long as my usual fanfics

It was a field day for the tabloids as Bruce Wayne, their prominent bachelor prince, was getting married to the daughter of a wealthy businessman. 

The newspaper reported on the events of the power couple, with your picture and Bruce Wayne's featured prominently in the middle of it all. The headline 'our playboy billionaire finally settling down'

The crystal chandeliers of Wayne Manor cast dancing shadows across the marble floors as Bruce Wayne adjusted his tie for the thousandth time. Another charity gala, another performance of the billionaire playboy. Except tonight was different. Tonight, he was meeting his future wife.

"The arrangements have been made, Master Wayne," Alfred said, his voice carrying its usual mix of concern and dry wit. "Though I must say, agreeing to an arranged marriage seems rather... medieval, even for Gotham's standards."

Bruce's jaw tightened. "The Wayne Foundation's reputation is everything, Alfred. After that disaster with the Gotham Gazette's exposé on my... nocturnal activities, the board thinks a stable relationship might help." He didn't mention how those 'nocturnal activities' involved more timely distractions to uphold his secret.

________________________________________________________

You stood in an elegant emerald evening gown, waiting anxiously to leave and get home, but tonight was different. Tonight, you are meeting your future husband.

The arrangement had come as a surprise. Your father, CEO of one of Gotham's largest tech companies, had presented it as a "mutually beneficial partnership." Bruce Wayne needed to stabilize his public image, and your family needed stronger ties to old-money Gotham. You'd agreed, if only because it provided the perfect cover for your nighttime activities.

Wayne Manor looms before you, gothic architecture stretching toward the clouded sky. Your driver opens the car door, and you step out, automatically scanning the perimeter – old habits die hard. The massive wooden doors swing open to reveal Alfred Pennyworth, Wayne's butler, and behind him, Bruce Wayne himself.

He's more imposing in person than in photos. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp eyes that seem to catch every detail. Including, you notice, the way you've already mapped every exit in the room. Interesting.

"Miss," he says, extending his hand. "Welcome to Wayne Manor."

"Mr. Wayne." Your grip is firm and professional. You notice a faint bruise near his collar, poorly concealed by makeup. Curious. Several things ran through your mind, the obvious one: how much of a playboy Mr. Wayne was.

The weeks before the wedding pass in a whirlwind of public appearances and private arrangements. Attending numerous galas and other events to show the public the perfect couple.

You find ways to maintain your secret life – slipping out at night, patrolling the streets of Gotham in your specialized suit, complete with built-in stealth tech of your own design. If Bruce notices your occasional limps or mysterious absences, he doesn't mention them. Then again, he has his own habit of disappearing at odd hours.

The wedding is a spectacle worthy of Gotham's elite. You play your part perfectly – the accomplished businesswoman, the perfect bride. No one notices how you scan the crowd for threats, or how your bouquet hides reinforced knuckles that could crack concrete.

Life at Wayne Manor settles into an odd rhythm. You and Bruce orbit each other like binary stars, together but separate. You respect each other's privacy, never questioning the mysterious phone calls or unexplained injuries. During the day, you attend board meetings and charity galas. At night, you slip away to protect the city in your own way.

"Late night?" Bruce asked one morning, not looking up from his newspaper as you slipped into the breakfast room at 6 AM, still in yesterday's clothes.

"Charity gala planning committee," you lied smoothly, hiding your limp. The drug cartel you'd busted hadn't gone down without a fight. "You?"

"Board meeting in Tokyo." His tie was perfectly straight, but you spotted foundation covering a fresh cut along his jaw.

They were good lies, practiced lies. The kind that came with years of maintaining double lives.

It's during your fourth month of marriage that everything changes. You're tracking a human trafficking ring through the warehouse district, your suit's electric blue accents dimmed for stealth. The intel suggests Batman might be investigating the same case, but you've always managed to avoid him before.

Not tonight.

You kept your operations separate from Batman's territory, focusing on Gotham's tech-driven criminal underground. You had history there – scores to settle with your father's former partners who'd turned your family's Technologies' innovations into weapons.

But Gotham had a way of bringing its heroes together, whether they wanted it or not.

You'd avoided Batman for months, but now, crouched in the shadows watching him work, something felt familiar about his movements. The way he disabled the security system matched a technique you'd glimpsed Bruce using on their home's alarm panel.

The second you closed your eyes and reopened them, he was gone in the dark.

You sense his presence before you see him – a darker shadow among shadows. You turn to flee, but he's faster than expected. A grappling hook wraps around your ankle. You counter with a move learned in the mountains of Nepal, breaking free and landing in a defensive stance.

That's when you see his face in the moonlight, cowl knocked loose in the scuffle. The realization hit you like a thunderbolt

"Bruce?"

He stares at you, equally shocked. "You're the mystery vigilante?"

For a moment, neither of you moves. Then you start laughing, the sound echoing off the warehouse walls. "So this is why you're never around for midnight snacks."

"Me? You're the one who keeps claiming yoga classes run late." His voice carries a hint of admiration. "The tech industry's break-in last month – that was you?"

"Had to destroy some evidence of illegal weapons manufacturing. My father's old partners aren't as clean as they pretend to be." You step closer, studying his suit. "I always wondered how Batman got his tech. Wayne Enterprises explains a lot."

"How long have you known?" he asked, removing his cowl.

"About thirty minutes." She deactivated her mask, letting it dissolve into her suit's collar. "You?"

"I suspected something when you took down that smuggling ring last month. The tech they were using came from one of your family's Technologies' old subsidiaries."

"Cleaning up family messes." She shrugged. "Sound familiar?"

His laugh was unexpected – rich and genuine in a way she'd never heard from Bruce Wayne, socialite. "Alfred is going to love this."

"Alfred already knows," she said. At his surprised look, she added, "He's been leaving medical supplies in my bathroom for weeks. That man sees everything."

"The two-year gap in your resume," he says. "Training?"

"League of Shadows. Left when I realized what they really were." You notice his slight flinch. "But you already knew about them, didn't you?"

He nods slowly. "We have... history."

"Well," you say, a smile playing at your lips, "I suppose this makes our arranged marriage more interesting."

"It certainly explains a few things." He pauses, then adds, "Your father doesn't know?"

"About as much as your board knows about your nighttime activities." You activate your mask in place.

"So." Bruce stepped closer, studying you with new interest. "What happens now?"

You smiled, already seeing possibilities unfold. "Now we stop pretending our marriage is just for show. Between your resources and my tech, we could do more good together than apart."

"The press will notice if Batman and the new vigilante start working together at the same time you and I become inseparable."

"Let them talk." You activated your suit's systems, preparing to leave. "Besides, every good marriage needs a hobby. Speaking of which, I've got some traffickers to catch. Care to join me?"

The smile he gives you is genuine – perhaps the first real one you've seen from him. "Lead the way."

As you swing across Gotham's skyline together, you realize that this arranged marriage might be the best thing that ever happened to you. Not because it saved Bruce Wayne's reputation or strengthened your family's social standing, but because it gave you something you never knew you needed: a partner who understands both sides of your double life.

Later that night, as you both tend to your wounds in the newly revealed Batcave, Bruce looks at you with newfound respect. "You know," he says, "most people marry for love or money. We married for public relations and ended up with a crime-fighting partnership."

You laugh, wincing as Alfred patches up your shoulder. "Well, they do say marriage is full of surprises."

The next morning, headlines screamed about Batman and the new vigilante team-up against tech-stealing mercenaries. But it was the society pages that really got people talking, with photos of Bruce and you sharing a surprisingly passionate kiss at a charity gala.

The papers call you Gotham's power couple, the perfect merger of old money and new innovation. If they only knew the half of it. By day, you run your companies and attend charity galas. By night, you protect the city together, two vigilantes moving in perfect sync.

And if the criminals of Gotham complain that Batman's gotten twice as effective lately with improved tech? Well, that's just one of the many perks of married life.

[kaivenom]

sanji x reader but hes in denial reader loves him and we have to assure him😞(MAKE IT FLUFF THOUGH I DONT HANDLE ANGST) my angel😞 thank u!!!!

The best prove of true love i can give you

Summary: you have been feeling that Sanji is a little sad recently, you don't really know why and he is not going to tell you, but you are more than determined to make him feel better.

Pairing: Sanji x reader

Warnings: fluff, comfort, arguing, low self esteem Sanji, a little angst but ends good.

Masterlist

You were on the verge of having an anxiety crisis, Sanji was sad like in a very depressed mood... no laughing, no heart eyes, no jiggling around, not even around Nami and Robin.

And you know he doesn't want to bother you so he is not going to tell you even if you push him out of the ship. That's why planned on surrounding Sanji with the things he likes the most.

You wake up before him and put the breakfast for him, do his favourite dishes, leave him a little origami duck (he loves it) and a heart shaped paper, you do chores, kiss him on the cheek everytime you can, etc, etc, etc... but he seemed to get sadder as the day passes by.

By the time dinner ended and everyone went to sleep, you were going to approach Sanji but he didn't even look at you.

"You can go to bed, (Y/N), you don't have to wait awake for me."

"But i want... " you were going to wrap your arms around his neck.

"No" he moved you away "you should go to sleep."

You muttered an ok really low and now really sad. You got to the bedroom and tried to sleep but you couldn't. You were really hurt and couldn't stop thinking about it, what have you done?

The door oppened and you got up on the bed, looking directly at Sanji.

"What is wrong with you?" his eyebrows met up, he looked hungry.

"What is wrong with YOU?!" he never talked to you like that, and you felt really bad for a second, "You've been all day doing stuff for me cause you feel pity about me and my mood. I feel pity enough by myself knowing that i am not worthy of love, of being on this crew and having you.

You had to leave your angryness to the side for a moment and rethink his words. Everything went out of the window, your new mission is going to make Sanji know that you are on his side.

"Sanji, i love you."

"No you don't, you feel sorry for me, sorry for the little blonde boy experiment with weird eyebrows that spent two years on a island full of okamas and doesn't know how to be around woman."

He was walking up and down the room with a frustrated look. You wanted to yell at him that everything is wrong but you had to breathe and try to make him see his errors.

"Sanji... you spent two years in there cause Kuma sent you not cause you wanted, you know how to be around woman cause everywoman would feel blessed to be treated like you treat me," you start to get out of the bed and walk towards him, "you didn't want to be your fathers experiment and i really like your eyebrows."

You cupped his cheeks with your hands and his hard cold look started to change slowly. You kissed his cheeks in a slow motion.

"I like you, even if you don't see it i still like you and i am not scared nor ashamed to say it, " his harsh look was getting softer every second, "And i did all those things today cause i care about you and i wanted to see you happy. I didn't know why you were sad and you didn't tell me so i had to do everything i could to make you feel good."

His eyes began to be teary and big tears came down his cheeks, his breath became shaky and his knees failed.

"I love you..." you said it once slowly and repeated it over and over again until Sanji couldn't stop himself from crying out loud.

"I don't deserve you."

"I choose what you deserve from me, and you deserve all of myself... and i am more than willing to give it to you, like i've been doing since we are dating."

"I am so sorry for not..."

"I know... you passed a really hard time to make people like you and you still don't believe it's true, i get it but, i am saying it to you... i am showing it to you and i am going to repeat it until it gets on your blonde head."

He hugged you and tried to muffle his cries. That night he slept on your chest surrounded by your arms and was the little spoon. He really needed someone to tell him that he was worthy of love, and no one better than the love of his life.

[kayakiki]

RDR CHARACTERS IN WATER PARK | Headcanons

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, Sean McGuire, Sadie Adler, Lenny Summers, Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, Jack Marston

Warning(s): swearing, mentions of violence (nothing serious)

 Arthur Morgan

Hates the idea of going but somehow gets dragged along.

Sits under an umbrella, fully clothed, eating overpriced hot dogs and muttering about "this whole thing bein’ a scam."

Secretly enjoys it but refuses to admit it.

Ends up having to save Jack (and his father) from the deep pool at least once.

Eventually gives in and goes down one big slide—yells the whole way but claims it was "fine."

John Marston

Acts like he's too good for waterparks but gets excited like a kid when he sees the slides.

Tries to show off by diving but bellyflops hard.

Constantly gets water in his eyes and rubs them dramatically while cursing.

Gets stuck in a tube slide and has to awkwardly crawl out.

Arthur warns him not to do something stupid—he does it anyway and regrets it immediately.

 Dutch van der Linde

Insists on wearing a fancy robe and sunglasses, claiming he has a "plan" to maximize fun.

Tries to convince the lifeguards that VIP and welness section should be free for a "man of his stature."

Takes over the hot tub like it's his personal throne

Gets mad when someone splashes him and storms off to sunbathe dramatically.

 Sadie Adler

First in line for the biggest, most dangerous slides.

Races kids up the stairs to get there first.

Does cannonballs into the pool and soaks everyone.

Bullies John into going on a slide he’s scared of, then laughs at his screams.

Starts an all-out water gun war and shows no mercy.

Javier Escuella

Casually floats in the lazy river, looking effortlessly cool.

Brings a guitar and tries to serenade women by the pool.

Somehow convinces the staff to let him drink margaritas in the hot tub.

Calls everyone else "ridiculous" while wearing stylish swim trunks and designer sunglasses.

Ends up sunbathing for way too long and gets horribly sunburned.

Charles Smith

Comes for the relaxation, stays because someone has to make sure nobody dies.

Ends up watching Jack, making sure he doesn't drown or get kidnapped by Dutch’s "fun plans."

Enjoys the sauna and hot tub but never stays in one place long because there’s always some chaos happening.

The only person who properly re-applies sunscreen and avoids sunburn.

Leaves early because "this place is too loud."

 Bill Williamson

Refuses to wear sunscreen, turns bright red within an hour.

Complains that the water is "too cold" but eventually jumps in and splashes everyone like an overgrown toddler.

Somehow gets banned from the wave pool for roughhousing.

Gets stuck in an inner tube and yells at Javier to help him.

Ends up passed out in a deck chair, snoring loudly with a beer in hand.

 Micah Bell

Pushes people into the pool when they least expect it.

Tries to start fights with lifeguards for no reason.

Steals someone’s sandals and throws them into the water for no reason.

Cuts in line at the slides and pretends he didn’t hear people yelling at him.

Somehow convinces Dutch to start a ridiculous waterpark heist plan that obviously fails.

 Hosea Matthews

Brings a nice straw hat, sunglasses, and a book to actually relax.

Laughs at everyone else making fools of themselves.

Ends up helping Charles babysit because he’s the only responsible one.

Tries the wave pool once, gets tossed around mercilessly, and decides never again.

Buys a ridiculous amount of gifts and suveniers for Jack

Jack Marston

Runs everywhere even when the lifeguards tell him to stop.

Gets lost at least three times.

Wants to go on every ride but then chickens out halfway up the stairs.

Eats way too much ice cream and ends up with a stomachache.

Arthur begrudgingly carries him around at some point.

Sean MacGuire

Yells "WATER’S GRAND, LADS!" before doing the worst cannonball imaginable.

Purposely bellyflops off the diving board just to make everyone laugh.

Challenges people to races down the slides, then cheats by shoving them aside.

Tries to hit on lifeguards but gets ignored (or threatened with removal).

Steals Bill’s sunscreen just to watch him burn.

Somehow gets himself and Micah kicked out of the wave pool within an hour.

 Lenny Summers

The only one who actually enjoys the waterpark like a normal person.

Loves the slides, the lazy river, the wave pool—he’s doing it all.

Races Sadie up the slide stairs and actually beats her once.

Gets caught in Sean’s nonsense at least three times but somehow never gets in trouble for it.

Ends up convincing Arthur to go on at least one slide and cheers when he actually does it.

Ends the day relaxed, slightly sunburned, and ready to come back sometimes

______________________________________________________________

Short story

.

It started as Dutch’s brilliant idea.

"Now, boys and girls" he said, standing at the entrance of the water park, adjusting his sunglasses like he owned the place. "We work hard. We struggle. But today, we relax. Today, we reclaim what is rightfully ours—a good time."

Arthur groaned. "Dutch, it’s a damn waterpark, not a heist."

"Everythin’ in life’s a heist, Arthur."

That was the last thing Dutch said before storming off toward the entrance, attempting to negotiate a "gang discount" with the cashier.

.

John insisted he wasn’t scared of the big slides. "I got this," he bragged, climbing the stairs to The Devil’s Drop, a near-vertical water slide.

Sadie smirked. "Go on then, tough guy."

John sat at the edge, gripping the rails. "Ain’t nothin’ to it."

"Sir, you need to let go," the lifeguard said.

John inhaled deeply. Released his grip.

And then—absolute regret.

His scream could be heard through the entire park. He hit the water so hard he disappeared for a second. When he finally surfaced, sputtering, Sean and Lenny were doubled over laughing.

Sadie clapped. "Good job, John! You looked real brave up there!"

"Shut up, Adler" John muttered, dragging himself out of the pool.

.

Sean, fueled by pure adrenaline and zero caution, challenged everyone to a race down the tube slides. "Bet none o’ ye can beat me!"

He shoved past Javier, ignored Bill’s warnings about "doin’ somethin’ stupid," and leaped into the slide face-first.

The problem?

Sean didn’t fit properly.

He got stuck halfway down.

For a full minute, the only sound coming from the slide was distant Irish swearing.

Then—he came flying out at the speed of death, tumbling into the pool like a ragdoll.

Javier, sipping a margarita, nodded. "That was tragic, amigo."

Bill just sighed. "I told him."

.

Arthur had zero intention of getting in the water. He sat under an umbrella, eating his third overpriced hot dog, muttering about how the park was a scam.

Then, Jack tugged at his sleeve.

"Arthur, will you go on the lazy river with me?"

Arthur sighed. "Fine. But only the lazy river."

A few minutes later, Arthur was floating in an inner tube, arms crossed, looking as grumpy as humanly possible.

"See?" Jack grinned. "It’s nice, huh?"

Arthur grunted. Then—SPLOOSH.

A tidal wave crashed over him.

"SEAN, YOU BASTA—"

Sean cackled as he sprinted off, having deliberately capsized Arthur with a cannonball.

Arthur climbed out of the water, dripping, murderous. "You’re dead."

.

Meanwhile, Dutch had fully taken over the VIP hot tub.

"This," he sighed, lounging with his sunglasses on, "is freedom, gentlemen."

The other guests in the hot tub, who had paid for access, looked deeply uncomfortable.

"Sir," a staff member said, "you’re not supposed to be here."

Dutch sat up. "Son, I am supposed to be here. See, I had a vision—"

"Sir, get out."

"...I have a plan."

"Sir."

Dutch sighed dramatically and reluctantly left, but not before whispering to Hosea, "This place is a prison."

.

Unlike the rest of the gang, who were already embarrassing themselves, Javier made himself comfortable by the main pool, ordering a margarita from the bar.

"Now this" he sighed, stretching out on a lounge chair, "is how you enjoy life."

It was all going well—until Sean showed up.

"Oi, Javier!" Sean slammed himself into the chair next to him, dripping wet. "Ye sittin’ ‘round flirtin’ with yerself, or ye gonna actually get in the water?"

Javier didn’t even look at him. "Some of us know how to enjoy a vacation properly."

Sean snorted. "Oh aye? Is that why you’re starin’ at that lass over there?"

Javier was indeed watching a beautiful woman lounging by the pool, flipping through a book. She looked up, meeting his gaze with a small smile.

Javier smirked. "I have charm, Sean. Something you wouldn’t understand."

Sean rolled his eyes. "Aye, well, go on then, Casanova. Let’s see it in action."

Javier pushed his sunglasses up and got to his feet, adjusting his shirt. He strolled over to the woman with all the confidence of a man who had never been rejected in his life.

Unfortunately, Bill chose this exact moment to slip on a puddle and fall directly into Javier, sending him crashing into the pool.

Javier surfaced, coughing, while Sean and Lenny absolutely lost it on the sidelines.

"Dios mío, Bill!" Javier wiped water from his face, glaring up at him.

Bill, still lying on the wet pavement, groaned. "Ain’t my fault!"

The woman Javier had been eyeing burst out laughing, trying to hide her face with the book she is reading.

Javier just sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair.

Sean patted his shoulder. "Better luck next time, lover boy."

Javier just splashed him in the face.

.

Micah, unsurprisingly, got banned immediately.

Within minutes of entering the water park, he had: - Started a splash war with random strangers - Attempted to ride Bill like a human floatie - Thrown a kid’s sandal into the lazy river

"Aw, c’mon, I was just havin’ fun," Micah complained as two lifeguards dragged him out.

"Sir, this is not the Wild West!"

"It damn well could be!"

He was banned. For life. (Much to everyone's relief)

.

While everyone else was causing mayhem, Lenny was actually having fun like a normal person.

He went on every ride. He actually listened to the rules. He even convinced Arthur to go down one slide.

Arthur screamed the entire way.

When Lenny saw Dutch dramatically sulking after being kicked out of the hot tub, he just sighed. "Why can’t we just have one normal day?"

.

By the time the park was closing, everyone was sunburned, exhausted, and soaked.

Bill was lobster-red. Sean was limping. John was still fuming over his failed dive.

Dutch sighed, arms crossed. "I had bigger dreams for today."

Arthur rubbed his temples. "Dutch, we got banned from the wave pool, lost Jack for twenty minutes, and nearly drowned Sean. What more did you want?"

Dutch shook his head. "A waterpark of our own."

Arthur groaned. "We’re leaving."

And so, the Van der Linde gang left the water park —wet, sunburned, and banned from at least two attractions.

Would they return? Probably not.

Would Sean try to sneak back in?

Absolutely.

[minyoongisnewthing]

Han river lullaby chapter two | myg

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, exs to lovers, eventual smut, idol!au, co parents, second chance romance

Chapter two content warning: mention of corporate manipulation/control, emotional confrontation, mild swearing

word count: 5.6k approximately

Authors notes: thank you sincerely for the love and support you have shown this story so far it has meant so much to me, it was a much needed confidence boost. Apologies to my boy Namjoon you don’t get paid enough to be readers and Yoongi’s therapists. Please feel free to drop any feedback in the comments

A few days later marked the start of your much-needed week long break after working twelve grueling days in a row. 

You woke up with Han wrapped around your arm, his little body sleeping and warm against yours as he snored softly. 

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across his features. 

Smiling, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before carefully slipping out of bed, making sure not to wake him.

Downstairs, you set to work making pancakes, knowing that the scent would lure him down in minutes. 

The familiar routine helped calm your nerves about what you planned to do today - the conversation you could no longer put off. 

Sure enough, just as you plated the first stack, you heard the telltale sound of small feet padding across the floor.

"Morning, bubba," you greeted him with a smile, turning just in time to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes, his hair an adorable mess of soft curls that reminded you so much of Yoongi's bed head.

"Morning," he mumbled back, still groggy but clearly intrigued by breakfast. You lifted him up and placed him in his chair before setting a small plate of cut-up pancakes in front of him.

"What do you want to do today? Before you go to auntie Mya’s house?" you asked as you poured some syrup over his food, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety churning in your stomach.

Han barely took a moment to think before his face lit up. "Can we go to the park!" he exclaimed, his excitement muffled by a mouthful of pancake.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Chew your food, Han," you reminded gently, wiping syrup off his chin. 

The simple gesture made your heart clench - how many moments like this had Yoongi missed?

"Sorry," he said, swallowing quickly before grinning at you - that gummy smile so like his father's it almost took your breath away.

The idea of the park sounded good, a chance to give Han one last carefree morning before everything changed. 

After breakfast, you both bundled up in coats and beanies and set off down the street. Han immediately took off running the moment you arrived, joining a few other kids in the playground. 

You settled onto a bench, watching him with a fond smile that didn't quite mask the weight in your chest. Despite the warmth in your heart at seeing your son so happy, a familiar guilt pressed down on you. 

You knew what you had to do. What you'd promised yourself - and Namjoon - you would do today. No more waiting, no more stalling.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your chat with Yoongi before you could talk yourself out of it.

Y/N: Are you resting like the doctor ordered?

You hit send, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Yoongi: Don't worry, Hobi and Namjoon made sure I am. Why the check-up? Don't believe I'd follow orders?

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head before replying.

Y/N: Was thinking of stopping by, if you're up for a visit?

A few moments passed, each second stretching like an eternity as you watched the typing bubble appear and disappear, the reappear only to disappear again, finally.

Yoongi: What, you visit all your patients after hours?

Y/N: Only the stubborn ones who need extra monitoring.

Yoongi: I'm wounded. But yeah, I'm at home with Namjoon, still being good and resting like ordered.

Y/N: Perfect, do you actually mind if I stop by?

Yoongi: [Address] - Hannam-dong. Door code: 0923

You stared at the screen, barely believing it. He was letting you in - literally and figuratively - and you were about to change everything.

That's how you found yourself standing in front of Yoongi's apartment after dropping Han off with Mya, your favorite nurse and close friend. Your palms were sweating as you tried to work up the courage to knock, the weight of Han's excited "Bye, Eomma!" still echoing in your ears. 

This was it. You were about to lay everything out, every painful truth, and you had no idea how he would react. Taking a deep breath, you finally knocked.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing Namjoon. His blonde hair was slightly messy, like he'd been running his hands through it while working - a habit he'd never broken. 

His brows furrowed in quiet surprise as he took in the sight of you standing there, though you could see in his deep brown eyes he'd been expecting this. He leaned against the doorframe, his tall frame somehow both imposing and gentle at once.

"You're finally doing this?" he asked, voice careful, his dimples appearing briefly despite the seriousness of the moment.

You nodded, fingers twisting together nervously. "Yeah. You're right, for both of them, I have to."

Namjoon studied you for a second before stepping aside. "He's upstairs in his room. Do you want me to stay?"

You swallowed, nodding hard. "Please, Joon. I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack."

He gave you a reassuring nod. "You can do this, Y/N. I'll be here, for both of you."

You followed him through the apartment, the space as calm and minimalistic as you'd imagined Yoongi's home would be. The walls were lined with awards and platinum records, reminders of everything he'd achieved.

Namjoon led you to the bedroom door before pausing.

"I'll be close," he said softly before stepping back.

Gathering every ounce of courage you had left, you knocked.

“Yeah?” came Yoongi’s voice from inside.

Slowly, you pushed the door open and poked your head in. He was sitting up in bed, lounging comfortably in a dark shirt and grey sweatpants, the ever-present silver chain around his neck.

His dark hair falling over his forehead in careless waves. His feline eyes met yours the moment you stepped inside, sharpening with something unreadable—intense, unwavering, and just a little too knowing.

"Hey, Yoongi," you said hesitantly, the words barely above a whisper.

His expression softened—just a little. "Hey yourself." But even as he said it, you could see it in his gaze: curiosity, the ghost of warmth… but most of all, confusion.

You moved toward him, your hands twisting together as you sat at the edge of his bed. The room felt too quiet, the air too thick with something unspoken. Your stomach churned, the weight of what you were about to say pressing heavily against your ribs.

"Look, Yoongi… we need to talk."

The small, familiar smile on his lips faltered. His eyes sharpened with cautious tension, his body going still. "Okay…."

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself, but nothing could have prepared you for this moment. Your fingers found the edge of his blanket, needing something to ground you.

"Just… just know that I never wanted to hurt you."

His shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening. "Y/N." His voice was lower now, edged with something dangerous. "What's going on?"

Your fingers clenched together, nails biting into your skin. There was no easy way to say it.

"Around a month after I left, I… I found out I was pregnant."

Yoongi stilled.

The breath he'd been about to take caught in his throat, his body going rigid as if you had physically struck him. 

The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating. You saw it—the moment your words reached him, the precise second his world cracked open.

You forced yourself to keep going.

"I gave birth to a little boy," you whispered, your voice unsteady. "His name is Han and… and, fuck, Yoongi, he has your smile. Your eyes. Even your damn nose."

Silence. A silence heavier than anything you'd ever known stretched between you.

Yoongi’s hands, which had been resting in his lap, curled into fists over the blanket, his knuckles white. The veins along the backs of his hands stood out, a stark contrast against the smooth, pale skin. His long, slender fingers twitched slightly, as if resisting the urge to move. 

His breathing was uneven, like he was struggling to remember how. His voice, when it finally came, was barely a whisper.

"I have a son?"

It was the break in his voice that shattered something inside you.

Your throat burned as you nodded. "Yes."

He exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with an unsteady breath. He dragged a trembling hand through his dark hair, gripping it tightly like he was holding himself together by sheer force. 

When he finally looked at you, his gaze was dark, unreadable—but the hurt in them was unmistakable.

"You—" His voice wavered, raw with disbelief. "You kept my son from me?"

You swallowed hard, guilt clawing at your ribs. "I thought I was doing the best thing for both of us—"

"The best thing?" His voice cut through yours like a blade, sharp and filled with something frighteningly close to betrayal. "For both of us?"

You flinched, gripping the edge of the bed as the weight of his anger crashed into you.

"I know you're angry—"

"Damn fucking right I'm angry." His voice shook under the weight of his emotions. His hands pressed against his forehead as he exhaled harshly. He shook his head, still trying to process. When he looked at you again, there was something raw, something broken in his expression.

"You kept my son from me."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't even an accusation—it was a wound laid bare.

You flinched but refused to look away. "I thought I was doing what was best—"

"So you said," his voice rose, something sharp laced within it. "But for who, Y/N? For me? For you? Because it sure as hell wasn't what was best for him."

Your breath caught, guilt twisting like a knife in your ribs. "I—"

He cut in, his tone almost hollow. "I reconciled with the fact I was the only one who lost something when we walked away." His eyes burned into yours, dark and unreadable. "But the whole time, you had my son."

His voice cracked on the last word, and it shattered something inside you.

"Yoongi…" You swallowed hard, trying to find steady ground, but there was none. "I wanted to tell you. I swear, I did. But after everything, I—"

"You what?" he demanded, leaning forward. "You decided for me? You thought I didn't deserve to know?"

You let out a shaky breath, eyes stinging. "You left first."

Yoongi stilled.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of those three words settled between you like an open wound, bleeding and raw.

And then he laughed—a hollow, bitter sound that sent a chill down your spine.

"So that's what this is," he muttered, shaking his head. "Punishment."

Your heart clenched. "That's not—"

"You wanted me to hurt like you did," he said, voice dropping into something quieter, dangerous. "Well, congratulations, Y/N. You fucking achieved it didn’t you."

His words knocked the breath out of you.

"Do you think it was easy for me?" Your voice cracked through the room, your own anger rising like a flame catching air. "Do you think I didn't hurt too? That I didn't spend nights staring at my phone, wanting to call you, to tell you? To break down and beg you to come see me."

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the force of your words. The dark irises, usually guarded and unreadable, flickered with something unspoken, their depth momentarily exposed. 

A faint crease formed between his brows, his smooth, pale skin taut with tension. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, the muscles in his jaw tightened, a subtle but telling sign of restraint.

"You stopped reaching out first," you continued, your voice thick with pain and accusation. "You never truly fought for us, Yoongi. You just—let go. So I thought that meant I had to let go too."

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his hands curling tighter at his sides. His laugh was sharp, disbelieving, barely contained between clenched teeth. 

"It wasn't that simple, Y/N," he bit out. "The company—their rules—I couldn't. Not if I wanted to keep my career, to keep you safe!." 

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "I thought…" 

His voice faltered, and for the first time, you saw it. Regret. The weight of what he'd done too. The hurt he didn’t even consider he’d caused. 

"I thought letting you go was the best thing I could do for you. To protect you."

You stared at him, realization washing over you like ice water. The silence. The distance. It hadn't been indifference. It had been sacrifice. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

You let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "The fucking company," you spat. "That's rich. Enjoying the view from that fucking high horse, Min?" The visceral hurt ripped open, the years of heartache spilling out like poison in your veins. 

"You decided that for me. Just like I decided for you. You didn't even give me a choice, Yoongi. You just walked away."

His nostrils flared, his breath unsteady. "My view's just the same as yours, on your own high horse, sweetheart." He hissed the old term of endearment, sounding like venom on his lips.

"You did the same fucking thing, didn't you?" His voice was low, dangerous now. "You took my son from me. His first cries, his first steps, his first fucking words!"

Your vision blurred with unshed tears.

"You should have told me," he snapped, his voice breaking slightly on the words. "You should have fucking told me."

Your chin trembled, the fight leaving you, making way for the only emotion you had left: exhaustion. 

"You're right, Yoongi. I can't change my choice, I wish I could. But maybe when we're both less heated, you'll understand why I did, help me understand your choices now." Your tears begin to slide down your cheek.

Yoongi's expression cracked, something devastated flickering in his eyes. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his voice raw when he finally spoke.

"I was scared, Y/N," he admitted, the confession shaking. "Just like you were. Scared of losing everything I'd worked for. Scared of losing you."

"Fucking terrified of the pressure we were suddenly under, the conditions we had to live in." His eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You don't think I thought about you every day?" His voice rose slightly, sounding on the edge of mania. 

"Do you know how many times I got caught sneaking off just to try and call you? How many nights I wanted to just throw it all away and come see you?" 

His breathing turned ragged. "Do you have any fucking idea how much it took for me to let you walk out of that apartment that morning? To smile at you like I was okay?"

He took a deep shuddering breath, trying to recenter himself. "It took everything in me not to chase after you, not to beg you to stay."

The memory of that morning flooded your mind, as vivid as if it were yesterday...

The early morning light painted Yoongi's small apartment in soft golden hues, making everything feel dreamlike and fragile. 

Your bags sat by the door - simple things that somehow held the weight of your entire world shifting.

In these last precious moments before your taxi arrived, you stood wrapped in each other's arms, whispering promises, promises of making the distance work, of visits when time allowed, into the quiet morning air.

"You sure you don't want me to drop you at the airport?" Yoongi murmured into your hair, his arms tightening around you as if trying to memorize how you felt against him.

"I'm sure, Yoon," you managed a smile, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "You'll be late for dance practice, and I'm not having Hobi mad at me because your ass is late."

His chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, but it held a note of something fragile, something breaking. You snuggled closer, breathing in his familiar scent - coffee and cologne and something uniquely Yoongi that had become home to you.

"I'll call you every chance I can, okay?" he promised, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"I know," you whispered, looking up to meet his gaze. The love and fear you saw there mirrored your own.

You shared one final, devastating kiss before your phone buzzed - your taxi was here.

Your breath caught in your throat as the memory faded, bringing you back to the present moment.

"But in the end..." His voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with years of regret. "I lost you anyway."

Tears burned at your eyes.

"I didn't come here to fight with you, Yoon," you finally admitted, voice tired and aching. "We both fucked up. We both made mistakes. And now here we are. Hurt. Angry. And too late."

Yoongi's gaze met yours, something shattered in the way he looked at you.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice hollow. "Too late."

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor. His voice trembled when he finally asked, "Can I meet him?"

Your chest clenched painfully.

"Of course you can," you replied instantly, your voice soft, careful. "Would... would you like to see a photo of him now?"

He nodded, and with trembling fingers, you reached for your phone. You pulled up a photo taken just that morning—Han in the park, beaming, his dark eyes crinkling just like Yoongi's when he laughed.

Yoongi took the phone from you carefully, as if afraid the moment might shatter in his hands. He stared at the screen, and you watched as something in him completely unraveled.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice breaking.

His pale fingers hovered over the screen, tracing Han's face without touching it, his expression torn between awe and devastation.

"Mother Nature really did one hell of a copy-paste job on him, didn't she?"

Despite everything, a choked laugh escaped you.

Yoongi's eyes flickered back up to you, searching, uncertain. "Y/N..." His voice was quieter now, filled with something fragile. "I would've made it work."

You closed your eyes briefly, exhaling shakily.

Finally, he exhaled slowly. "I... I need to see him, to know him beyond just a picture," he said, determination laced with vulnerability.

"I have the next few days free," you say gently, watching Yoongi carefully. "I can bring him over whenever you're ready."

There's a beat of silence before you add, "Also, that bloody chain—let me fix it. It's annoying me."

Yoongi lets out an unexpected laugh, the warm sound catching you off guard. You raise an eyebrow at him in question.

"You never could keep your hands off me. Don't lie," he quips, a smirk tugging at his lips.

The familiarity of his teasing makes something in your chest loosen. It doesn't erase the pain of the past, but it's something—something small, something hopeful.

"Fuck off," you chuckle, shaking your head as you step closer, fingers carefully adjusting it to sit properly against his shirt. He stays still, letting you work, his eyes watching you with something unreadable.

As you step away again, the conversation drifts to Han—his little quirks, the way he scrunches his nose when he's thinking, his stubborn streak that's so clearly inherited from both of you.

"He's so smart," you say with a proud smile, your heart swelling just talking about him. "He loves music already - always dancing and humming little tunes he makes up."

Yoongi hums, glancing down at the photo of Han still open on your phone. "Of course he’s smart. He has Min DNA after all." he says matter-of-factly.

You barely contain the scoff that leaves you, but there's no real annoyance—just an old, familiar fondness creeping in.

"He's obsessed with the piano at my friend's house," you continue softly. "Can't keep him away from it. And he has this habit of staying up late, no matter what I do - just like someone else I know."

Yoongi's expression softens, a mix of pride and pain crossing his features. "What else?" he asks, shuffling forward towards you, voice barely above a whisper, like he's trying to drink in every detail.

"He's incredibly stubborn when he wants to be. Especially when he’s over tired," you say with a small laugh. "But he's also so gentle. So caring. He notices when anyone's sad and tries to make them feel better. Just yesterday, he gave his favorite toy to a crying kid at the park."

You watch as Yoongi absorbs each detail, his fingers still hovering over the photo on your phone. "Does he..." he hesitates, swallowing hard. "Does he ever ask about me?"

Your heart clenches. "Yeah, he does. More and more, He sees other kids with their parents and gets curious. I've told him… that while his appa loves him very much, grown-ups sometimes have complicated situations."

Yoongi's breath catches, and he nods slowly, processing. 

After you agree to bring Han by tomorrow, you tell Yoongi you need to go pick him up. He nods, still looking lost in thought, but there's a softness in his gaze that wasn't there before.

As you step into the lounge, you find Namjoon sitting on the couch, book in hand. He looks up as you enter, a small smirk forming.

"I got worried for a moment there when all the yelling stopped," he teases, dimples on full display.

You scoff but smile back. "We called a temporary truce."

"Progress," he nods approvingly.

"We have organised for me to bring Han by tomorrow," you tell him. "If you wanna be here to supervise the visit." You say it lightly, but there's an underlying truth to it—you don't know how emotional tomorrow will be.

Namjoon closes his book and stretches. "I'll be here," he assures you, voice steady.

Leaning against the wall, you sigh. "How did we get here, Joon?" you whisper, voice barely audible over the soft hum of the city below. "How did we let it get this bad?"

Namjoon sighs, putting the book down beside him. "You mean you and Yoongi?"

You nod, your fingers gripping your knees. "We loved each other." Your voice cracks on the last word, and you shake your head as if trying to make sense of it.

"So how the hell did we end up as two people who just walked away? Who let everything go and ended up like... this—with so much pain and miscommunication between us?"

Namjoon is quiet for a long moment. Then he sighs.

"Because it was never just you two," he murmurs.

You frown, looking at him. "What do you mean?"

Namjoon exhaled through his nose, leaning back against the chair. His expression was unreadable, but there was something haunted in his eyes.

"The company, it wasn't just an excuse, Y/N," he said. "You knew they had rules about dating, but you don't know the extent of it. The control, the manipulation—it wasn't just a policy. It was a constant, looming, very real threat."

You swallowed, uneasy. "I knew it was strict, but..."

Namjoon let out a humorless chuckle. "Strict? Y/N, we used to have random phone checks. Random room checks. Managers would come in, take our devices, search our belongings all without warning, and comb through everything. Texts, call logs, even our search history."

He shook his head, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he continued.

"If they found anything suspicious, anything that hinted at a relationship, it wasn't just a scolding—it was a warning. And that's the tip of the iceberg honestly."

Your stomach turned. You knew about the company's grip, but hearing the details made your blood run cold.

"They used to tell us, over and over, that everything we had could be taken away in an instant. Our careers, our reputations. All of it, gone." 

Namjoon glanced at you, his gaze heavy. "And Yoongi? He was already seen as the difficult one. The cold one, the one most likely to push back against that control."

"If they had even a hint of something that could be spun as 'unprofessional'—especially a relationship—he knew they wouldn't hesitate to make an example out of him."

You blinked rapidly, your chest tightening. "They really had that much control over everything?"

Namjoon's lips pressed into a thin line. "You have no idea." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "We weren't just scared of losing our jobs, Y/N. We were scared of losing everything. They had us believing that if we stepped out of line, we'd be ripped apart—no second chances."

You swallowed hard, trying to process it all. "He told me it was because he was afraid?"

Namjoon nodded. "Not just afraid. Convinced. Convinced that staying with you would ruin you both. And Yoongi..." He hesitated before continuing, voice softer now. 

"He's always been the type to shoulder things alone. To suffer in silence if he thinks it'll protect the people he loves."

Your throat tightened. "He thought leaving me was protecting me. Just like I was protecting him."

Namjoon's expression was pained. "Yeah."

You exhaled shakily, rubbing your temples. "I hate that I understand it. I hate that I can see why he did it, why I did what I did, and it still doesn't make any of this hurt any less."

Namjoon looked at you, his eyes showing wisdom beyond his years. "Because understanding the past doesn't erase the damage it left behind. You both made choices based on fear. And now, you're left with the consequences."

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, and you laughed bitterly. "So what do we do now, Joon?"

He was quiet for a moment, then said, "That's up to you and Yoongi.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, your mind spinning with everything Namjoon had just told you. The weight of it pressed down on your chest—everything Yoongi had gone through, the suffocating grip they had on him. On all of them.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You wanna know how bad it got?"

You looked at him warily. "I think I already do."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You don't." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was quieter now, heavy with something distant, something painful.

"There was one time—about two months after you left—when Yoongi got caught trying to contact you, after he had already gotten in shit for doing it the times before."

Your breath hitched. "What?"

Namjoon nodded. "It was after a long schedule, late as hell. We were back at the dorm, overworked and beyond hungry, I walked past his room, saw the light on under his door. I didn't think much of it at first—until I heard his voice."

You swallowed hard. "He was calling me?"

Namjoon gave you a pointed look. "Trying to." 

He exhaled. "I don't know what happened. Maybe one of the managers was already suspicious, maybe they were just being extra paranoid that night. Either way, someone must've been watching him, because before he could even get through, the door slammed open."

Your stomach twisted.

"They took his phone. Took all our phones, actually, under the excuse of a 'security check.' But they already knew. They already saw."

You couldn't breathe. "What did they do?"

Namjoon hesitated, then said, "They pulled him into a meeting the next day. I don't know exactly what was said, but when he came back, he looked..." 

He trailed off, jaw tightening. "Defeated. Like they'd ripped something out of him. He barely spoke for days after that. Just threw himself into work, into writing. It was like he was trying to drown himself in anything that wasn't you."

Your hands trembled as you hugged yourself, nausea creeping into your throat.

"They threatened him, didn't they?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Namjoon nodded slowly. "Probably, with everything in their arsenal designed to hurt him."

A sharp sob threatened to rise in your chest, but you forced it down, biting the inside of your cheek.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, staring down at your hands as Namjoon's words settled deep into your chest, heavy and unshakable.

A memory surfaced, unbidden.

"I remember that day," you murmured, voice distant. "I was in the middle of a finals exam. My phone was on silent, stuffed in my bag. When I finished, I checked and saw a few missed calls from him. I thought it was my shot to tell him about Han, about how much I missed him. I thought if he's finally got time after a few weeks, I'll take it!"

Namjoon watched you carefully, his expression unreadable.

"I called back," you whispered, feeling the ache of that moment as if it had just happened. "But he didn't answer." You let out a shaky breath. "I tried again. And again. But nothing."

You lifted your gaze to Namjoon, your eyes stinging. "Now I guess I know why."

His face softened with something like understanding, but he said nothing.

That night, you had sat on the edge of your bed, gripping your phone, staring at Yoongi's name on the screen, wondering what had changed. Wondering why, after a few weeks of silence, he had reached out—only to disappear again. 

You had told yourself it didn't matter. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he had come to his senses and realized there was nothing left to say. That the relationship had run its natural course.

But now...

Now you know the truth. Yoongi had tried, tried more than you knew. And they had taken that from him. From both of you.

You sucked in a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep it together, but Namjoon's next words cut through to your heart.

"You spent all this time thinking he didn't care enough," he said quietly. "And he spent all this time thinking he had no choice but to let you go."

A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, thick with disbelief and regret. "What a fucking mess we made, huh."

Namjoon gave you a wry, knowing look. "Yeah. But that doesn't mean you can't fix it."

Your breath came out unsteady. "Why didn't he ever tell me?"

Namjoon gave you a small, sad smile. "Because he didn't want you to know what he went through. He didn't want you to carry that weight."

Tears blurred your vision.

"I thought he just gave up on me," you admitted, voice breaking.

Namjoon shook his head. "Yoongi never gave up on you, Y/N. He just didn't know how to hold on without hurting you."

You wiped at your eyes quickly, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. "And now? Now that we've both hurt each other?"

Namjoon sighed, leaning back against the couch. "That's the thing about love, isn't it? It's not about never hurting each other. It's about what you do after."

Silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words.

Finally, you whispered, "I don't know how to fix this, Joon."

He gave you a small smile. "You don't have to figure it all out right now." His gaze was steady, reassuring. "Just start with tomorrow. Start with being good co-parents to Han."

Tomorrow. When Yoongi would meet his son for the first time.

You exhaled shakily, nodding. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

Later that night, after dinner and a bath, you sit Han on your lap, brushing a hand through his soft hair. The weight of him against you feels both comforting and terrifying, knowing how much his world is about to change.

"Han, baby," you say gently, drawing his attention. "Remember when you told Eomma you thought about your appa?"

He nods, big, curious eyes watching you, looking up at you with such innocent trust.

"How would you like to meet him tomorrow?"

There's a beat of silence as his little brain processes your words. Then, his eyes go wide with excitement.

"Yes, please!" he exclaims, bouncing slightly in your lap. "Really, Eomma? Really?"

Your heart swells, relief washing over you. If there was ever a sign that you were making the right decision, this was it. You hug Han close, kissing his temple.

"Okay, baby," you whisper, holding him just a little tighter. "Tomorrow, you'll meet your appa."

That night, as you watch Han sleep, your mind drifts to another lazy night, years ago...

The soft strumming of guitar strings filled your small apartment, mixing with the soft moonlight streaming through the windows. You were sprawled across your couch, textbooks scattered around you, but your attention kept drifting to Yoongi.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, an old guitar in his lap, dark hair falling into his eyes as he worked through a melody. He was wearing one of his oversized hoodies, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, that silver chain glinting at his neck.

"You're staring again," he murmured without looking up, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Am not," you protested, even as you continued watching his fingers move across the strings. "I'm studying."

"Oh yeah?" He glanced up then, eyes twinkling. "What chapter are you on?"

The memory fades as you brush Han's hair from his forehead, seeing so much of Yoongi in his peaceful sleeping face. Tomorrow would change everything for him, but looking at your son now, you know it's worth whatever pain might come.

Because Han deserves to know his father. And Yoongi deserves to know his son.

As you drift off to sleep, you can almost hear the echo of that old guitar, mixing with the sound of your son's steady breathing, creating a melody of what was and what could be.

Tomorrow would be the beginning of something new—something scary and uncertain, but necessary. For all of you.

tag list: @busanbby-jjk @jajabro @kam9404 @yoongiiuu93 @julseka07 @tea4sykes @marihoneywk @maryhopemei @sanarin @misschelliejeon @boraluv @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne, @hyuninslutbbgirl , @Granataepfelchen

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 44. Unexpected Reunion

Summary: Dahlia's Squad and Bodhi are dragged into their first assessment for RSC. Land Nav. And just her luck she'd end up with not one, but two people she would like to be as far away from as possible. A/N: This is going up while I'm travelling for a week away for my birthday, so not sure if I will have reception or time to check my phone before I don't have it. But I can't wait to come back and see your comments and asks! Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links | Tumblr Community

My eyes fly open, jolting back as someone moves something away from my face. I squint at the bright morning light, shielding my eyes I look up to see our RSC teacher Professor Lee backing away as he approaches Liz who lies on the ground next to me. My head feels foggy as I sit up and take in my surroundings. We’re in the middle of the forest, somewhere definitely close to Basgiath as the foliage is similar.

”Let me guess, RSC?” I ask Proth as I reach out to him.

I feel agreement flow through the bond. “Yes, something I hope you can over come quickly. A waste of time if you ask me.”

”Why is it a waste of time?” I ask, as I push off the ground, dusting grass and dirt off my flight leathers.

”You only need it if you don’t stay seated. Or we somehow get separated, which has never happened.” He growls in annoyance.

Noted. Don’t leave my dragon. Something that’s already been drilled into us. Though you never know what could happen. I look to my left seeing Kai, Austin and Bodhi waking up as well. My eyes widening as I take in the squad next to ours. You have to be kidding me. Dain and I lock eyes, both of ours narrowing at each other. Great. On top of being stuck out here for up to two days, I had to spend it with him. And work with him. Movement next to him catches my eyes and I can’t help but smile slightly at Imogen who pokes her head around him as she assesses the area. I hadn’t had much to do with her, but the interactions I did have with her were good. I could see myself getting along with her.

”Well, look who we have here. Haven’t seen you two in a long time.” A deep, but somewhat familiar voice drawls.

I turn my head to see two squads of infantry cadets, my blood running cold as I recognise the one speaking to Dain and I. Despite how much time had passed, there was no denying who stood in front of me. Ethan Caldwell. The boy who had thrown that rock in that clearing. The actual reason my mother was dead. This day was just getting better and better.

”See you took after your father in infantry.” Dain says through pursed lips.

Dain and Ethan were never close, always butting heads as kids. So I know his displeasure is not due to what happened that day. But mine definitely is. He was my friend up until that point. At least I thought he was.

”As did you two. Though I’m honestly surprised after that little incident.” He drawls as he turns his attention to me.

My hands tighten into fists, my nails digging into the palms of my hands as I stare at him. I would enjoy nothing more than running him through with one of my daggers, but I don’t think it would go down to well if I took out a cadet from another quadrant in front of two Professors.

”Everything ok?” Liz asks as she steps closer to me.

”Fucking fantastic.” I growl out as I hold Ethan’s stare.

”You sure? You look like you want to murder him.” Bodhi adds as my squad gather behind me.

”Trust me, that’s not even the start of what I want to do to him.” I say as I tear my gaze from Ethan and look at Bodhi.

There’s no denying the worry in Bodhi’s eyes as he looks at me. But he clearly understands this is something I can’t talk about right now. And honestly didn’t entirely want to. Though there was no stopping Ethan from spilling what he was referring to. I just had to hope that he kept is damn mouth shut.

”What the last thing you guys remember?” Kai asks as two healers cadets walk around handing out a small ration and water. Which I’m thankful for seeing as I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday and it was now the morning.

”Walking to dinner from the gym with Dahlia.” Austin says as she opens her water skin.

”Yeah, the last thing I remember is heading there with Kai.” Liz adds.

Seems we were all taken after we left the gym. They had definitely been watching and waiting. Maybe that’s where Garrick and Xaden ended up? No, third years didn’t go through this. Their equivalent was being sent to an outpost to assist.

”Sorry for the abrupt change in scenery, but welcome to your first land navigation exercise of the year.” Professor Lee starts as his eyes scan us. “In the last two weeks, we have hopefully taught you how to read a map and survive. And now you get to put those skills to the test, and seeing how well you can adapt to working with other cadets you have never worked with before.”

Two squads of infantry, two quads of riders, two healers and a scribe. All of whom have never worked together. This was going to be interesting.

”For this exercise there will be two maps, two teams, but you will work together as one cohesive unit. Aetos, your squad-”

”Which one?” Dain and I say perfectly in sync as we cut off the Infantry Captain, causing all the riders to look at us in shock. Almost surprised with how in sync we’d been, even down to the tone in our voice. Perks of being twins I guess.

”Of course they sent you two together. Second squad-”

”Which one?” We both ask again in sync, Dain turning to glare at me as Bodhi and Imogen snicker behind both of us.

”You’re both second squads?” She asks, looking annoyed.

Professor Lee chuckles as he steps forward with two maps clutched in his hand. “Yes and both from the same wing. Dahlia, you’ll be with third squad.” A blonde haired infantry cadet raises his hands. Thank the gods I wasn’t with paired with Ethan. I step forward and take the map from Lee. “And Dain you’ll be with second squad.”

“Excellent. We’ll see you all tomorrow afternoon.” The infantry captain says before turning and walking away from us with Lee and leaving us on our own.

”Oh, and just to make it more fun, there are other groups out here with you.” Lee adds as he turns back to us. “You are also not allowed to mount your dragons. But they are hunting the other groups, and their dragons are hunting you. Best work together so you don’t die.”

And with that, we’re on our own. The infantry, healer and scribe cadets look pale now Lee has mentioned the role our dragons are playing in this. Two days to find our extraction point and not get burnt my another dragon. Oh and add the fact I’ve got Dain and Ethan to deal with. What could go wrong? Oh wait, everything.

”Did he just say we could die?” The scribe squeaks out as they clutch their satchel.

”Sure did. Kinda part of being around dragons.” Imogen says with a smile, though it does nothing to ease the now petrified scribe.

”Don’t listen to her. You’ll be fine.” Dain says as he tries to ease the scribe’s nerves.

”Don’t sugar coat it Dain. You know very well how deadly dragon fire can be.” Ethan snickers as he eyes Dain and I.

”Pretty sure we all do. So lets get to work and get moving.” Bodhi says sternly, ending the conversation. I’d almost swear he was innistic with how he could read situations.

”Good idea. Dain give me your map.” I say as I hold out my hand towards him.

”You have your own map. You don’t need mine.” He tells me as he puffs out his chest.

”Well aware, but I wouldn’t put it past them to give us different maps or do something to confuse us.” I tell him as I cock my head at him.

He grumbles but quickly hands his map to me so I can lay them out next to each other. We all gather around to assess the two maps, and it’s immediately clear our maps are completely different. Our extraction points are in the same spot, but the markings and layout of the maps are completely different.

”Well look at that, you were somehow right.” Ethan says smugly as he looks up at me.

”Yeah, she generally is. Without her we wouldn’t have won war games last year.” Austin snaps at him, causing him to glare at her.

Great we were already at each others throats. This was going so well.

”Let’s figure out where we are and get moving then.” The blonde squad leader from infantry commands as he cuts off the bickering that was definitely about to start, all of us nodding in agreement. We needed to win this.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn @emoravenwolf

[mariespen]

sheriff rafe meeting sammie’s bf.. oh god.

➸ Meeting the Parents

Sheriff!Rafe x Teacher!Reader

➸ Masterlist!

Requests open!

Rafe's only daughter brings home her first boyfriend, and he isn't taking any bullshit.

(Re-blogging helps smaller writers like me! Please enjoy!)

“Daddy..” Your sixteen year old daughter, Samantha, groaned as Rafe gave her a hard time all over again.

“Sammie, I’m being real. You’re too young for a boyfriend.” Rafe grumbled, yanking a flannel over his shoulders.

His movements were stiff, jerky—like getting dressed for this dinner was physically painful. You’d already fought him on what was appropriate to wear for tonight, but his mood was set in stone.

Rafe had always been possessive of his baby girl, but this was different. This was real.

Lucas, your youngest son of 14 years, was sitting down awkwardly at the table. Your eldest was away in college, another hit that your family had taken this year. But Samantha's new boyfriend, James Shipley? That was a whole other problem for Rafe.

“Daddy, he’s nice!” Samantha protested, trying to fix her makeup using your mascara before you swatted her hands away.

With a dramatic eye roll, Rafe responded, “I don’t care if he cured fucking cancer… I dont want any guys around you, much less in the house.”

“Watch it.” You warned, trying to hold back laughter at his typical way of blowing situations out of proportion.

However, thoughts of the night before flashed through your mind, remembering how Rafe had nearly broken down in your arms at the idea of Samantha leaving your home. He was the same way with Oliver, but Rafe had always kept his only daughter in a special pocket of his heart. You couldn’t laugh at him, much less mock his closed mindset. He was taking his hard, and somehow he was still getting ready for the dinner. That was all you could ask for.

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts and you glanced at Rafe, watching him tense up and stand without hesitation.

“Daddy!” Sammie protested, but you held her hand and walked with her out to the living room, watching in curiosity as Rafe opened the door.

Standing before you was a teenager, not much taller than six feet, cowering below your intimidating husband. The flowers he was holding were now crunching in the midst of his nervous grip

“And you are?” Rafe asked, voice gruff, his sheriff’s badge shining against the plaid shirt.

The only way you could convince him to not attend dinner in full uniform was the badge. You figured James would be grateful, if he wasn’t so terrified.

“J-James, sir. James Shipley.” He said, awkwardly moving the flowers towards Rafe.

Rafe peered down, glancing at James’s subtle attempt at peace, “I don’t want your flowers. Are those for my daughter, or my wife?” 

“U-um Samantha, sir.” James said, tripping over his words.

“Hm.” Rafe said, opening the door and rolling his eyes as he watched Samantha’s face light up.

“Hi James, I’m Samantha’s mom.” You said, properly introducing yourself before compensating for Rafe, “You’ve met my husband, Rafe. Her father, of course.”

James politely shook your hand before he walked up to Samantha, giving her a hug. Without a moment’s hesitation, Rafe pulled the two apart and let his hand rest on the skin on James’s neck.

“Let’s eat.” He said, softly pushing the teens towards the table.

You served dinner with a smile, letting your arm linger on Rafe’s shoulders when you passed by, a subtle comforting touch. Lucas gave you a look of premonition, already having a bad feeling. Of course, you returned it.

“Thank you ma’am.” James said politley, taking his seat across from Rafe and next to Samantha.

Once everyone was seated, Rafe cleared his throat and began the interrogation. Rafe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“What’s your plan?”

James blinked. “Sir?”

“After high school. Where are you going? What are you doing?”

James shifted, hands tightening around his napkin. “Uh… probably working for my dad.”

“Probably?” Rafe scoffed, sitting back. “Hmph.”

A brief pause, before he was attacking again, “And your intentions with my daughter?” 

You resisted an eye-roll as James stuttered out an answer, “U-um I.. I’m not sure, sir.”

The answered made you perk up, and you turned to meet Samantha’s similar expression.

“Hm.” The same condescending sound left Rafe’s lips.

“James, what do your parents do?” You asked, trying desperately to re-direct the conversation.

“My father owns the shoe repair downtown, and my mother stays at home.” He responded with a polite nod, giving vague hints of information.

“And you?” Rafe asked, pouncing right back.

“I- I don’t work, sir- yet.” He tripped over his own voice, again.

The table went painfully silent again, making you turn to Lucas and watch as you mutually winced in the awkward nature of the dinner. Right as you tried to open your mouth, Rafe smiled and opened his instead.

“So, you love her?” James went bright red, his voice unsure and strained, “I- I suppose so, sir.”

Rafe’s eyes moved to Samantha, furrowing when she softly kicked his leg. She stared at him, silently begging him to ease up. He ignored her protest.

“And what happens when you break her heart?” Rafe said, not leaving room for teenage hope. The question wasn’t and “if.” He was betting on the failure of James Shipley.

Silence again, this time for a few seconds until James found an answer, “That’s not my plan, sir.” 

Rafe leaned back, curious at his reactions, “You know what I do for a living, yeah?”

James remained silent, just nodding while taking Rafe’s judgement with all that he could.

“Good.” He smiled.

The rest of the dinner was quiet, only the soft clicking of silverware against porcelain. As quickly as he could, Lucas got up and strolled to the kitchen. Tonight was the only time you had ever seen him excited to do the dishes. Rafe stared down James as he ate, watching each movement, observing his scrunched shoulders and hesitant bites. Samantha sat, utterly mortified.

James understood his queue, so when he finished the meal he thanked you, did his dishes, and started for the door. Of course, Rafe met him by the entrance of the family home.

“If I ever hear you so much as look at her the wrong way, you and I will be having a real serious talk—down at the station.” Rafe growled, opening the door and watching as James scurried away like a wounded animal.

That night, Rafe held you closely as he resisted the lump in his throat.

“She’s getting so big. I don’t want her to grow up.” He whispered.

You sighed lovingly, letting your palm rest on his chest in reassurance, “I know, Rafe. But watching her grow up is the best gift we could be given.”

He sighed, knowing you were right.

But he was sure of one thing, if anyone was going to be around his daughter, it damn sure wouldn’t be James Shipley.

[babble28]

Illicit affairs (Spencer x curvy! Hotch reader) part 1

An: hey guys, this is my very first fic EVER so pls lmk if I missed anything or if something is wrong, or unclear. thanks for reading! let me know if you like it and I could do a part two :)

words: 1,889 (ish)

Warnings: insecure reader, mention of death of a parent, slight age gap (like 5 years), reader is Aron's daughter, mentions of dating issues/friend issues, reader is bad at math, reader is in college lmk if I missed any warnings thx

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"𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰"

Special agent Aaron Hotchner, or as you would call him, Dad, was never one for taking things lightly. Which, in your mind, was both a blessing and a curse, as you seemed to get the brunt end of the stick when you were in danger or in trouble, being his only daughter and all. You know your father's love for you was boundless, but growing up with an FBI agent for a dad meant little to no spontaneity in your life. 

You were not allowed to stay out late, even into your later teen years, and you were definitely not allowed to have boys around the house without your dad’s approval.

 However, dating wasn't much in the cards for you. Growing up you had always been a little chubby. After going through puberty and not quite losing all your “baby fat” as your mother used to call it, you became increasingly more self-conscious into your teenage years. Feeling dejected as your skinnier friends soon began to get boyfriends and girlfriends, while you were left alone in your room watching your latest favorite show as you internally sulked over being by yourself. 

It’s not as if you hadn't ever had boyfriends, or dated before, just that no one lasted long enough to mean anything. In your early teen years, there was Liam, he lasted approximately 74 days before your best friend at the time, Melanie, asked him out and he left you for her. 

Although it hurt at the time, you were young and had long since brushed it off. Your senior year of high school brought you Aiden, who was kind and made you feel better about yourself, or so you thought. That didn’t last long, considering he cheated on you with his ex and when you found out, you forgave him before breaking up a few months later after one of your friends had let slip what he had done to you in front of your father. Your dad was never explicitly rude or harsh about boyfriends, but after Aiden, he became far more protective of you.  

The protectiveness only grew after your mom's passing just after your 18th birthday. And ever since it's just been you, your dad, and your new half-brother, Jack. 

Now, a sophomore in college, you are as lonely as ever. All your friends are either in school themselves, or moving out with their partners. You had never been very good with making friends so, despite your efforts, you had about two people you talked to in your classes, but nothing too close to friendships. 

It was finally Saturday, which meant no school, and best of all one of your father’s only days off. He had promised to spend more time with you, feeling guilty that he was off working more than he was home. Plus, Jack spent most of his time with his mother Haley, so most of the time you were alone, and truthfully, you just missed your dad. After your mom's passing, it was you and your dad against the world as you liked to say. 

You woke up early, to surprise your dad with pancakes in the morning. He worked so hard for you and supported you through so much, you truly enjoyed helping him out when you could. 

When the pancakes were cooking your dad came down the stairs, still in his pajamas with his hair tousled slightly in the back. 

 You both had a great morning, talking about school, work, and other anecdotes throughout the week you two had experienced. 

As you guys started cleaning dishes, you heard the most irritating sound of your father's phone going off, usually meaning duty calls. 

Knowing now, you had wished that's what the call was about. 

Your dad responded to the person on the other line curtly, almost… disappointed, “Thank you, Mr. Harris, I’ll be sure to get this all sorted out by the end of the weekend,” your dad hung up the phone and gave you a stern look.

 “Well, your school counselor just called me, he said you’ve failed your last two math tests?” 

He gave you a quizzical look as if he was asking about the validity of your counselor's statement. 

“I’m sorry Dad” you began to tear up, math had always been a struggle for you, but last year you had a tutor, Mrs. Hansen, an old widowed school teacher who had lived just down the street from your house. However, over the summer she moved in with her daughter in California. So, your grades have been slipping. “Hey, it’s okay sweetie, I just want to make sure you are okay” he soothed, “Do you think we need to get you help again?” he asked, pulling you into a hug. “Y-yeah, I think that would be best” you cried into his shoulder. “Okay, let's talk about this later and have a fun day,” he said, giving you a reassuring squeeze and going to get dressed.

The following Monday you woke up and did your usual routine, getting ready for school was always hard. Seeing the new shirt you bought cling to your body in all the wrong places made you feel stressed. Looking at yourself in the mirror you pinch and pull at your clothes, seeing if they would change but, to no avail. Sighing, you changed into your go-to, big shirt, and sweats, trying to hide as much of yourself as possible. 

As you walk into the kitchen you notice a Tupperware of last night's dinner left out, you quickly realize that your father had left his lunch at home. Deciding to take it with you, you wrote him a little note and put it in a bag with an apple and a cookie that you two had made together on his day off. 

You had visited your dad's place of work quite often considering he basically lives there. However, in recent years you have tried to stay away from that place. While your dad had assumed it was due to the horrifying things they had to look at and deal with on cases, for you it was due to an entirely different and frankly scarier reason. 

Dr. Spencer Reid was that reason. 

He was around your age, a solid 27 to your 21, nearly 22. However, he was incredibly smart and, in the past few years, you had developed quite a crush on the unassuming doctor. You knew nothing would come of it, considering he was not only your father's colleague but also the fact that he was so incredibly smart and handsome and you were… well just you. He would never fall for someone who looked like you and who could barely remember the Pythagorean theorem. Let alone any of the crazy things he knew, that you probably couldn't even comprehend. 

Taking a deep breath, you flash the guard your permanent visitor badge your dad had given you when you graduated high school for “emergencies only” he had said sternly. You walk in and head straight for the Bau department. 

Entering the bau always caused a wave of nostalgia for you, as you had been coming here since before you could remember. Entering the bullpen, you were immediately greeted by Penelope (your fairy godmother, as she liked to call herself) who practically squealed when she noticed you entered. “y/n!! My sweet baby! Oh, have I missed you” She embraced you, her vanilla perfume causing a smile to spread on your face. Being around one of your favorite people was always a plus of coming here. 

“Is that the beautiful y/n?” you heard Derek come out of the kitchenette with a fresh cup of coffee. “I missed you guys” You hug them both. “I just brought my dad's lunch, then I have class, so unfortunately I won't be here long, but I'll see you guys this weekend at Uncle David's dinner” you explain to the two. SSA David Rossi and your father had been close since before you were born, and due to your parents not being married when having you, your father decided that the best person to be there for you when he wasn’t was his friend. Ever since, you have called him uncle. 

“Have you decided on a major yet?” Derek asks, he helped console you last summer when you weren’t quite sure what you wanted to major in, stating that he himself wasn’t sure what he wanted to do when he went into collage, and said that no matter how long it took,things would be alright. 

“Criminal psychology” you smirked at him, knowing he’d be impressed with you following in your makeshift family's footsteps. 

“That's my girl,” he chuckles. 

“Is that my bella (y/n)?” Detective Rossi emerges from your father's office with a smile on his face. “Hi Uncle David, just dropping off Dad's lunch,” you say walking towards the door he had just emerged from. 

After exchanging pleasantries with your godfather, and the promise of attending his dinner party that weekend, you finally entered your father's office. However, as you stepped in, you knew someone else was there, you first saw those beautiful brown curls, your breath caught in your throat, and you prepared for embarrassment. His hazel eyes lock on yours and you swear time stops. That is until your father promptly asked your reason for being at the office. “O-oh, uh, right sorry, you forgot your lunch at home I just came to bring it to you,” you said swiftly looking away from Spencer's piercing gaze. “H-hi Spencer” you stubble out, avoiding eye contact. “Hello (y/n)” he waves back.

“Alright, well I gotta get to class so, I’ll see you later” You wave to your dad goodbye. “Wait (y/n)!” your dad calls after you as your turn to leave his office. You hum and turn around, catching Spencer’s eye in the process. “Your teacher sent me the link to the study guide for your math test, I printed it out for you, so you can work on it with your tutor,” he said, ignorant to how embarrassing it was to be told that in front of THE Dr. Reid. he grabbed the packet from his desk drawer and set them onto his desk. Spencer, who had been sitting on the chair directly in front of said packet, had glanced over at it and said “Oh, I loved doing my sophomore math, did you know that the word math derives from the ancient Greek word Máthēma? Meaning something learned” Your dad looked at you, as though a cartoon light bulb had turned on over his head. “I have an idea,” he said. You stayed silent, curious as to what he was about to say. 

“Spencer, how would you like to help tutor (y/n) with their coursework?” 

Spencer's eyes widened slightly, he looked at you, then your dad, and nodded his head. “I suppose I could do that, Morgan says I need more interaction with people my age anyway, and frankly I think this could be a good learning experience for both of us, you know, studies show that interacting with people your age significantly increases-”

“Reid, that's enough.” your dad stops him. 

Meanwhile, your cheeks were heating up as the thought of Spencer Reid in your house teaching you math flooded your brain. 

You were truly and utterly fucked.