#but in the sense that she knew will would keep choosing him even after everything he’s done

[farawaydoe]

"I’ve always felt that Spike starts off the anime with this pedestal on which he places Julia, harbouring a genuine belief that no woman can parallel her, that she is perfection incarnate. This seems to slowly change and evolve over the course of the series. This is, of course, my own opinion and everything in the series is so open to interpretation that nothing can be gospel truth anyway.

The whole Julia-Spike equation reminds me of Romeo and Juliet. R & J barely knew each other and died for something which was not very substantial, thinking an immature infatuation was love. If they had stuck around and looked at it deeply, they would have seen it for what it was.

In the last two episodes, he seems to go to Julia more out of a sense of obligation at having been the cause of her situation than anything. When Faye conveys her message to him he acts irritated and pretends he doesn’t understand it until she says Julia’s name at which point he can pretend no longer but responds rather coldly. There is not a trace of the anguish and eagerness to find her which he shows at the beginning of Jupiter Jazz when Ed finds Codename Julia on the web. Even when they meet finally, he acts distant and cold….skeptical even. When Julia proposes running away together, he does not react, and it is later revealed he has decided to stay and fight.

By the last few episodes, Spike’s motivations and priorities seem to have shifted toward Jet, the Bebop, and its crew. He cares for Julia but perhaps not with the same intensity. I realized that the reason he has decided to stay and fight is because the life of running away with her does not hold the same appeal to him as it did so long ago. He also knows that running away with her will not mean his crew will be out of danger. Vicious could still go after them in an act of revenge or to smoke him out.

I believe Spike goes out to the Syndicate’s headquarters to kill Vicious and ensure none of the members of his new life are threatened by him any longer.

I feel the women shown during the show play a role in changing Spike’s perception of his situation with Julia. She chose to go into hiding by herself to keep from killing him and presumably to “keep him safe.” While this was noble, the fact was he was no safer without her than he would have been with her. When he meets Katerina, he sees her stand by Asimov to the bitter end. She runs away with him and not away from him. One can argue that Julia going into hiding elongates their lives by three years but if they were both so good at staying hidden separately, they could have managed it together as well. After all, she does decide to finally run away with him at the worst possible time. So, it was clearly an option but she chose not to exercise it.

Elektra represents a different kind of woman, one who stands up to kill her lover who is destroying the lives of others. This is again a foil to Julia who chooses to hide, is scared to run away in the first place, and, despite seemingly being from as strong a Syndicate background as Spike and Vicious, never does anything to try and stop or end Vicious. This is not necessarily a character flaw on her part since Vicious is fairly powerful, but it does present Spike with another kind of strong woman than the one he has built up in his head as the ultimate version.

The third major one, and perhaps the biggest influence, is Faye. In the entire series, Faye is the embodiment of survival. She should not be alive since she had a fatal accident 57 years ago but she is. Waking up with no memories, getting swindled and saddled with insurmountable debt, while having nothing to her name, she should not have survived a single day in this new world. But somehow she does.

When Spike initially meets her, he assumes her to be another hustler in the world like so many others he has met, probably a girl with a criminal family background or rough upbringing to whom all the gambling, bounty-hunting, and rough and tumble living came naturally. He pays her no more mind than getting irritated (justifiably) at her bizarre behaviour. In one of the episodes, he even tells her that not all women are like her, clearly comparing her prima facie persona to his perfect image of “his woman.” This attitude seems to persist somewhat till Jupiter Jazz and begins to change from ‘My Funny Valentine.’ It’s only when her past begins to surface and he ends up serendipitously being the one who has a ring-side seat to all of it, that he realizes she’s running on fumes. None of who she is or what she does has come naturally to her but is learned as a means of survival. She has nothing to her name, nothing to give, but still does what she can. She puts her life on the line quite a few times for him and the crew. In the Pierrot Le Fou episode, when he jokingly asks her if she will come to save him, she shows up. This was a situation she did not want him going into, and asked Ed to hide the invite initially because she knew it was suicidal to go, but she shows up anyway to try and help if she can. The depth of her loss and the fact that she has had to dig so much deeper than others to build a foundation for her tough exterior, seems to change the way he views her. In Jupiter Jazz, when his old memories flash before him, the last one tagged in is of her and no one else from his current life, further indicating that she is taking up a more significant place in his new life.

The sheer dynamism of Faye, the stark contrast between who she used to be, and who she is today, the story of her survival against all odds and the accidental discovery of her vulnerability under the tough exterior, all seem to drive home to him that there are other women equally, if not more, admirable than the one he has been worshipping for so long.

There is also a contrast in the way both women choose to handle the events of RFB. Faye sees a woman being pursued and doesn’t hesitate to help her, risking herself in the process, while Julia plays an identity game with her till the last minute, dismissing the woman who just saved her life as a mere messenger. Neither had any reason to trust the other but, given that Julia knew who Faye was, she could have shown more respect for her. Faye still delivers her message and even expresses admiration for Julia to Jet without a hint of envy or malice, just a hint of sadness. Faye returns to the Bebop and insists on going out to defend the ship though her craft is already damaged. She gets into the fight, her craft gets totaled but she takes on the Syndicate attack alongside Spike, even though she had a choice and Jet warned her against it, something Julia failed to do three years ago and fails to do even now until pushed to by his decision to stay. The request from Julia to run away together at a time like this when the human collateral damage would be quite significant seems a bit tone deaf as well. That’s where we see Spike taking a decision on his own for the path he will take, the same way she unilaterally did three years ago.

Julia represents his past, which is strongly seeped in the possibility of death, drama, and danger, while Faye (even platonically) represents a newer, lighter life, where surviving against all odds is utmost. Julia represents a part of his story where life costs nothing and can be thrown away over petty ego, a past which he has detached from by the end of the show but which won’t leave him alone. Faye, on the other hand, is representative of valuing life, a simpler way of going about things…more free-flowing and adapting, a way of life where you are allowed to mess up with the people around you and it won’t cost you your life.

Julia is a figment character who drives some of the story of Bebop. This is a dissection on possible change in Spike’s perspective toward her during the series through his interactions with other characters.

[mismatchsocks]

season three will and alana make me insane because by then i feel like they’re two people who don’t wish harm upon the other but know that they’ll never be friends or anything close to it ever again

[blueivyy99]

Finding a photo of his ex

Sylus x Non-MC

summary: a painful break up with your ex left you insecure, like you were never enough no matter what you do. then Sylus came to mend your heart. but when you found out who his past girlfriend was, you're left thinking: will he be like your ex?

tags: insecurities, exes zayne and non-mc, slight angst, comfort, fluff, sweet bf sylus, not set in LADS universe, VERY OOC Zayne description

note: SORRY ZAYNE I LOVE YOU PLS FORGIVE ME

taglist: @animegamerfox @lazypostfandomer

It was an accident. You were rummaging in Sylus's storage room looking for some books to pass by some time. You found one that piqued your interest; the book is squished under one of the old boxes obviously forgotten you pulled it out and looked over the pages.

As you were skimming, a photograph fell to the floor. When you picked it up and examined the photo your breath hitched when your eyes saw a familiar woman.

In the photo, she is grinning from ear to ear while Sylus gives her hand a kiss.

It was MC with Sylus.

This is not the first time you encountered her. Since she is a woman you know too well. The very woman who is the reason for your insecurities. The same woman who stole your previous boyfriend away.

You took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down. You knew that Sylus had a previous relationship. He knew about your past as well but you didn't expect that MC would be his ex.

Well, you didn't ask, that's one thing. But life seems to just like playing with you. Seeing her face again brought back bitter memories and little seeds of doubt started sprouting in your heart.

You didn’t mean to fall for another one of MC’s ghosts.

Zayne was first. Quiet, reserved, and soft spoken Doctor Zayne. You remembered chasing him back then. Asking to get noticed, being overly happy when given a mere glance. So when he relented and gave you a “chance" you wasted no time and showed him how much you love him.

At first, it was okay. You keep telling yourself that it's just the way he is and in no time, he will open up to you and let his walls break down but that didn't happen.

Not with you, at least.

Because when you saw him one time laughing and smiling with his childhood friend, suddenly everything just made sense.

What you were begging for him to do with you comes so naturally for him when it comes to her.

Lunch with you in the office? Nope, too unprofessional. But with MC, he would even go as far as cooking for the both of them.

Dinner after work? He's too tired to even lift a leg. But wouldn't mind driving to go to her place when she asked him to.

One social media post about you? Oh hell nah. He is not a social media person anyway. But would occasionally post their arcade escapades with a sassy caption.

You confronted him about it, but he just told you that it meant nothing. That she is a childhood friend nothing more and that she has a boyfriend.

But you knew that he was lying of course. You spent ages trying to learn him and loving him. You saw how his eyes had that air of sadness and anger when says that MC already has a boyfriend.

It was not a surprise when he started spending less time with you when the news of MC and her boyfriend broke up. Of course he'd be there.

But the more he kept choosing to be with her, the more you started spiralling to sadness as well.

You kept trying and trying to keep him by your side. Being the docile girlfriend that he needs. Never demanding, never yelling, never crying.

You held onto him long enough to believe he might look back.

But he never did.

So you let him go.

Or maybe he let you go first, you didn't know.

The break up became more of a relief for him and that's what struck the most. A part of you hoped he would at least feel remorseful and maybe even regret but there is none.

So you left. But with more insecurities as ever.

Was it really that hard for him to love you?

Was there anything you didn't do?

Why was it easy for him to just let you go and leave like you didn't matter?

Did he really love you or did he just get in a relationship with you to stop you from chasing him like a wild dog?

You ponder over it for a year or two. Just accepting that maybe you're just no match for her and guys like Zayne would always, always choose a woman like her over a woman like you. Because of that you swore to never love again.

Then came Sylus.

Rough, loud, reckless Sylus, who didn’t ask you to be anything. The same Sylus who didn't force you to return his feelings when he figured that you weren't ready yet and let you at your own pace.

Sylus who became the receiving end of your insecurities but gently kissed all the doubts away. Sylus who made you feel like loving again doesn't sound bad as it seems.

With him, the ache didn’t fade to zero but it stopped owning you.

Not until you saw this photo.

You have been doing a good job of reigning over the dark thoughts brought by your past but seeing this just makes you question everything.

Sylus never gave you a chance to doubt him. He showed you every day that his eyes are set on you and you alone. That no matter how many women fawn over him, he will always choose you.

But because of this stupid photo, you're seeing yourself as that same woman five years ago. Pathetic and a loser content with just a scrap of affection from her boyfriend.

The boyfriend who will choose the same woman in this damned photo over and over again.

You knew Sylus isn't like that.

Right?

But a voice in your head tells you that it will only take a matter of time before he realizes that she is the better option. That you are not worth wasting his time for. That once the opportunity presents itself, he will toss you aside like Zayne did just so he can run to her.

Sobs broke out of your lips and the photo on your hand is already crumpled by how much you're gripping it.

Just the thought of Sylus giving you that cold dismissive look made your heart shatter. It didn't help when the memory of you breaking up with Zayne and he had the audacity to be relieved kept popping in your head but this time, Sylus's face was in it.

It had been five years since that night. But everything is still fresh. Everything is still vivid. You don't know where Zayne is. You're not gonna bother finding out anyway.

But you're in the same city and Sylus crossing paths with MC is not impossible.

What if he sees her and thinks that he's wasting time with you?

What if he is with you out of pity because of how miserable you were before?

Your head is aching at all the thoughts swirling in your mind.

“– Sweetie?” Sylus's voice took you out of your haze. "What's happening?”

He looks at your tears streaked face and he quickly gathers you in his arms, grounding you back to reality. You sobbed in his chest holding him tightly. Silently begging for him not to go.

He took your hand and gently removed the photo from your grip, throwing it away on the floor. Connecting two and two together.

“I'm sorry, darling. Should've thrown that away. I didn't know it's still there." You feel him kissing your head and rubbing your back trying to make you stop from crying.

“P-please, please, don't leave me for her," you whimpered. “I'll do everything … anything. Just don't go."

You held him tighter while hoping and begging.

You felt him stiffen and you brace yourself for the worst. Maybe this is the part that he tells you that he will still leave. Maybe it's a good thing that you finally gave him a way out of this relationship just like what Zayne did.

He cupped your cheeks and looked at you with such bewilderment. “Where is this coming from? I'm not leaving you, sweetie. Never in a million years."

Fresh set of tears fell from your eyes again.

“B-but it's her. Everyone chooses her.” You replied.

Sylus isn't strange to the fact that your ex left you as a mess. He was there to help you pick up the broken pieces after all. He still wants to beat up your ex for being such an asshole.

But hearing you say those words, a realization occurred to him.

"Her? You mean the woman you told me about was MC?"

You nodded your head.

"My sweet little darling,” he wiped your tears away. "Try not to worry about it, okay? I won't leave you. I would die before anyone could take me away from your side. I love you. I love you so much.”

You yelped when suddenly his strong arms are lifting you up carrying you, transporting you back to the living room and settling in the couch making you sit on his lap.

“The best days of my life are with you, sweetie. I'd be a fool to let you go." He said. Your heart thumping at the sincerity in his tone. “You are perfect for me. The one I've been waiting for my whole life. Even if the women from my past come back and try to take me, I will always choose you. I will always stay with you for as long as you want me to."

You looked at his eyes. Trying to find deception and lies. But all there was was his overwhelming sincerity. You're trying hard not to believe him, but there is something in his gaze that begs you to have faith in him.

“Don't say that," you said almost above a whisper.

“Hmm why not?" He said with a little teasing in his voice sensing the shift in your mood.

“I might not let you go if you keep telling me those things."

A low chuckle escaped his lips. "Is that so? Then allow me to shower you with assurance so you'll hold me tight, sweetie.”

He held one of your cheeks and looked you straight to the eyes, “I love you. I'm not like your ex. I won't leave. You're not a burden to me, darling. As long as I'm alive, you're wanted here in my heart, sweetie.”

When he leaned closer to kiss your lips, you held on to him tightly pulling him closer as you answered his kisses. One by one, all your doubts were washed away.

Every brush of his lips against yours is a confession of his love, his loyalty. One that you have never felt before in your previous relationship.

“I love you, Sylus." You said in between kisses. It made him groan and kiss you more fervently.

As Sylus held you tenderly, softly caressing you and kissing you gently, you feel a part of you getting healed.

As your bodies collide, he reminds you that for him you are enough.

And maybe that's all you needed. To feel loved, cherished and assured that no matter how perfect she might be, someone will choose you within a heartbeat.

Thoughts? Comments? Lemme hear ❤️ luv u! Hope u enjoyed.

[wordsofwhimsy]

🅲🅾🅽🅲🆁🅴🆃🅴 🅵🅻🅾🆆🅴🆁🆂 pt. 2

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

PAIRING: Sinister!Mark Grayson x Reader

WARNINGS: Abusive/Possessive behavior, Smut, Language

INSPIRED: by the song “luther” by Kendrick Lamar & SZA

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

♫♪ In this world, concrete flowers grow Heartache, she only doin' what she know … ♫♪

“So how was your day?”  Your knife glided with ease through the steak on your dinner plate.  Taking up your fork, you took a bite.  Cooked to perfection, you think.  You savored the taste.

“Tedious,” Mark responded dryly, devouring his meal with much less mindful intention.  “You’d think these people would have learned by now—why do they keep resisting?”  You could think of a million reasons to give him as an answer, but after so many months you’d finally learned that these types of questions were strictly rhetorical.  Mark sighed, setting down his silverware and looking at you from across the table. “I’m just glad to be home with you.”  You didn’t meet his stare, instead choosing to keep your eyes fixed on your food.  “You look beautiful.”

Your face flushed at his words. “Thank you,” you responded softly, brushing your hair behind your ear and glancing briefly up at him.  Mark watched you with unbridled intensity.  Despite everything that had transpired over the past half year, you still found yourself absolutely enamored by his charm.  The thought of this riddled you with guilt.  How could you still be so attracted to him considering all of the heinous acts he had – and continued – to commit?  What did that say about you?  A familiar sickness bubbled in your stomach; your appetite suddenly gone.  You set down your utensils and let go of a quiet breath.

“Done eating?” He questioned.  You finally gave him your full attention, offering a weak smile and nodding your head.

“It was delicious.  Give Jacques my regards.”  Mark couldn’t understand why you insisted on giving praise to the chef who cooked for the two of you, but then again, he didn’t understand a lot of human things anymore.  To him, Jacques was nothing more than a tool to be used.  An object that Mark possessed and would do away with once it stopped meeting his expectations.  You constantly wondered if he viewed you in the same light.

“Let’s go to bed then.  It’s been a long day.” You hum in agreeance and wait patiently as he stands from his seat and makes his way over to you.  The shackle around your ankle was unlocked, and although it wasn’t tight you still felt relief from its removal.  Its restraint was replaced by Mark’s hand, gently resting on the back of your neck.  This of course was an even better measure of security than the chain could ever be.  You did your best to take your time heading to the bedroom.  This was, after all, the space you spent nearly all of your time.  Whenever Mark was off suppressing the world, you were kept on a chain connected to the bed which was just long enough for you reach the conjoined bathroom.  When he was home you were freed from the shackles, but even that privilege was only recently acquired.

Despite your best efforts, you’d reached the bedroom in less than a minute.  He guided you to the foot of the bed where you took a seat and he stood in front of you, looking down.  His mask was off but he was still dressed down in his costume.  You brought your hands together in your lap, subconsciously making yourself as small as possible.  Mark could hear your heart thudding rapidly in your chest, and he couldn’t help but smirk.  He knew you weren’t ready to admit it, but you craved him.  Deeply, in an almost primal sense.  This was how he knew you truly belonged to him, and he loved it. “So what have you been up to today?” His question seemed cruel, considering the circumstances.

“I finished the book I was reading,” You responded, choosing not to play into his cruelty.  A small, but genuine smile painted your face. “It had a beautiful ending.”  This was a true statement.  You’d actually cried, rather hard for quite a while after it was over.

“That’s nice, maybe you can tell me about it later.” You nodded your head as he slowly puts himself on his knees in front of you, his hands now resting on your thighs. His thumbs rubbed small, slow circles on your sensitive skin causing your breathing to stutter. “You were on my mind more than usual today…”

“O-Oh…?”

“Mhmm.” Mark leaned down and planted a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh.  The physical euphoria this small gesture gave you was unreal.  “I couldn’t stop thinking about these legs of yours…” he murmured into your supple flesh before kissing up further, the bridge of his nose pushing the fabric of your dress back as he went.  Your hands writhed around themselves as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, fighting to manage your emotions.  Your thoughts were like a broken traffic light, rapidly flashing from STOP to GO over and over again.

As if reading your mind Mark abruptly pulled away, leaving you reeling as you reopened your eyes. Focusing your vision you found him still on his knees in front of your, but his expression read of wild hunger and desperation.  “I need you, [Name].” His hands moved from your thighs to your hips as he raised up on his shins.  Your hands instinctively moved to overlap his as you responded,

“I’ll always be yours.”  Mark felt a high hearing you say this.  He continued to slowly creep up the edge of the bed, his fingers moving to gently touch every part of your body until he completely overtook you.  Your hair fanned out around you as you stared up at him with large doe eyes.  You looked so innocent.  A true wonder that needed to be protected and kept safe.  Just the sight of you overwhelmed his senses.  “Take me,” you breathed in a weak whisper, setting Mark completely over the edge.  Moving as fast he could manage he stripped himself of his suit and you of your panties, opting to keep your loose fitting dress on.

Positioning himself at your entrance, your eyes raked over the immaculate contours of his chest, shoulders, and arms.  He truly did put the Greek statues to shame.  You could feel his tip rubbing back and forth over your slit, pressing for a moment on your most sensitive part eliciting a pathetic plea from you. “Please baby… Don’t make me wait….”  The combination of your innocent expression and sultry words was more than he could take.  Sliding into you felt like entering into nirvana.  He kept the rhythm slow at first as his hands palmed your breast through the fabric of your shirt—no bra of course, he preferred you never have them on for this exact reason.  Your legs were delicately wrapped around his low back, urging him to stay close to you. 

After a moment his hand slipped down your stomach and between your two sweating bodies to your clit, where he rubbed circles with calculated pressure.  You moaned and writhed beneath his masterful touch, your reaction encouraging him further.  “You’re such a good girl,” he praised huskily. “You make me so proud, always taking it so well.”  His praise made you even wetter and he could tell. “Cum f’me baby girl.  You can do it, you’re almost there.”  And cum you did in a panting, sweating flurry.  Your walls squeezing around him was indescribable. 

But the night was far from over of course, with the stamina of a viltrumite he could last for hours.  In a swift motion Mark flipped you both over so he was on his back and you sat on top.  His hands gripped your thighs tightly as he thrust up into you and he bounced you easily on his hard length.  “Maaark~” you cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Just bounce on it f’me baby, you’re doing s’good,” he encouraged.  “Just like that, you got it.”  You gave it your best go, although you were still so stimulated and reeling from the orgasm you’d just experienced.  These sexual moments would happen regardless of your opinion, and you found that getting as much enjoyment out of it as possible just made the most sense.  His hands traveled further back to grip your ass, giving him better leverage to pump into you.  You could swear that you were going to rip in half with how deep he was sinking into your cunt. “God you feel so good,” he breathed. “So so fucking good.”

“Ugh, M-Mark I don’t know how much more I can take!”

“Shh, you’ve got this baby just keep going.” His thrusts were becoming more aggressive as you had turned all but into a sniveling mess.  Switching positions once again in an instant, you found yourself flat on your stomach with your ass raised in the air as he railed into you from behind.  Your dress fell down to pool on the bed around your face, and you were grateful for the fact that your eyes were covered.  All of your senses were on overdrive and even the tiniest reprieve was still something.

“Tell me who owns this,” he demanded.

“You do,” your cried into the mattress, fingers gripped into the sheets for dear life.  This went on for what seemed like an unearthly amount of time, being tossed and flipped into every position imaginable and you reaching a climax countless times.  You were truly delirious in the moment when he finally reached his limit and finished inside you.  You both collapsed onto the bed, trying desperately to catch your breath.  Mark of course recuperated much quicker than you, and was putting you into a warm bath while you still found your body to be all but useless.  He cleaned you tentatively and with such sweet softness.  It was in moments like this that you remembered why you loved him.

This was the true duality of man, reflected perfectly in Mark Grayson.  These days he may have publicly rejected all of his humanity, but you still knew it to be there.  A violent, loving, controlling, gentle, possessive, generous creature was the perfect description of all of humankind.  He was a flower growing in concrete.  Confused, beautiful, and strong but trying to exist in a place that wasn’t meant for him.

This was why you would always love him.  Even if it meant hating yourself.

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[wolvietxt]

𝓢AFE IN 𝓨OUR 𝓐RMS !

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : angst, hurt / comfort, heavy insecurities, reader lowk takes a beating, kidnapping, fluff, reader’s insecurities stem from natasha, happy ending wc : 4.9k a/n : writing this felt like a fever dream i’ve literally never written anything so quick

you tried not to think about it too much, really, you did. but it was hard not to notice the way natasha lit up a room just by walking into it, the effortless confidence she wore like a second skin. she was a force of nature, all sharp edges and deadly grace, the kind of woman who turned heads wherever she went. and then there was you - stumbling over your words, always feeling like you were playing catch-up, never quite able to shake the feeling that you were a few steps behind everyone else.

natasha was everything you weren’t, and on some days, it felt like she was everything bucky could ever want. they had a bond that went back decades, something forged in blood and shadows, a history that was impossible to compete with. you knew they were just friends, but that didn’t stop the creeping insecurities that gnawed at you whenever you saw them together. the way bucky would smile, a rare, genuine smile, when she cracked a joke, or the way he’d lean in close to whisper something that made her laugh.

you tried to tell yourself it didn’t matter. after all, bucky was with you, not her. he chose you. but there were days when that choice felt like a fluke, like you were just a placeholder for someone better. it didn’t help that natasha seemed to be everywhere - on missions, during training sessions, even at casual gatherings at the compound. she was a constant reminder of everything you felt you could never be.

and bucky, sweet as he was, had no idea. he was the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve, at least when it came to you. he was always looking out for you, making sure you were okay, doing his best to squash any fears you had before they could take root. 

“hey, stop that,” he’d say whenever he caught you staring at your reflection, tugging at your clothes like you could somehow reshape yourself into someone you weren’t. he’d come up behind you, wrapping those strong arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “you’re perfect. just as you are.”

and for a while, you’d believe him. it was hard not to when he was looking at you like you hung the moon, like you were the only thing in his world that made sense. he’d pepper kisses along your jawline, whispering sweet nothings until you were giggling and squirming in his hold, your insecurities momentarily forgotten.

but lately, those moments were fewer and farther between. bucky was busy, always being pulled in a dozen different directions with missions and briefings and god knows what else. you tried to be understanding, tried not to let it bother you when he’d come home late, exhausted and distracted, his mind still miles away even when he was sitting right next to you.

“sorry, doll,” he’d mutter, brushing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the shower or falling face-first into bed. “it’s just been a long day.”

you knew it wasn’t his fault. he was doing his best, trying to balance everything. but it was hard not to feel like you were slipping through the cracks, like you were becoming an afterthought in his increasingly chaotic life. the doubts, once small and manageable, were growing louder, harder to ignore.

and then there were the whispers. 

it started small, just the occasional passing comment from the other agents - “nat and bucky make such a great team” or “you know, they’ve got years of history together.” you’d laugh it off, forcing a smile even as your heart twisted painfully in your chest. 

but it was hard to keep the smile in place when you overheard the hushed conversations in the hallways, the ones that stopped abruptly whenever you walked by. 

“i’m just saying, if i had to choose between her and natasha…” 

“oh, come on, it’s not even a contest.” 

“poor girl. she doesn’t stand a chance.”

you knew it was petty, letting other people’s opinions get to you. but it was like a thousand tiny cuts, each one adding to the weight already pressing down on you. you tried to talk to bucky about it once, stumbling over your words, trying to explain how you felt without sounding like you were accusing him of anything.

“it’s just… sometimes i feel like i’m not enough,” you’d confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “like you could do better. like you deserve someone who - ”

“hey, hey, stop that,” he cut you off, his hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realised were falling. “you’re more than enough, baby. you’re everything to me, okay? don’t you dare think otherwise.”

and for a moment, it helped. the way he looked at you, eyes so full of love and sincerity, made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you were worth it. but the doubts never truly went away. they were always there, lurking in the back of your mind, waiting for the next opportunity to rear their ugly heads.

the breaking point came one night after a mission. it was supposed to be a simple extraction, but things went sideways, leaving bucky and natasha stuck behind enemy lines for days. no communication, no updates - just radio silence that left you pacing the floors of your apartment, sick with worry.

when they finally made it back, bruised and exhausted but alive, you’d barely been able to hold back your tears. you’d thrown yourself into bucky’s arms, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“i’m okay, doll. we’re okay,” he kept repeating, but you couldn’t shake the image of him and natasha, side by side, fighting their way out of whatever hellhole they’d been trapped in. they made the perfect team, a well-oiled machine, and where did that leave you? 

the insecurities you’d tried so hard to bury came rushing back, stronger than ever. and this time, they brought friends - ugly, vicious thoughts that whispered cruel things in the dead of night.

what if he only stayed with you out of pity? what if he wished you were more like her? what if, deep down, he regretted choosing you?

you did your best to hide it, plastering on a smile whenever bucky was around. but he could tell something was off, even if he didn’t quite know what. he tried to coax it out of you, tried to make you laugh, but it was like a wall had gone up between you, one you couldn’t seem to break down.

“are you okay?” he asked one night, his voice tinged with that soft concern that always made your heart ache. “you’ve been… distant lately.”

“i’m fine, buck.” you lied, avoiding his gaze. “just tired.”

“you’ve been tired a lot lately,” he pointed out, his brow furrowing. “you know you can talk to me, right?”

“yeah, i know,” you muttered, forcing a smile. “i’m good, buck. promise.”

he didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms. you curled into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him, but it did little to soothe the storm raging inside you.

you wanted to tell him, to pour out all the fears that were eating you alive. but what good would it do? it would only make you seem clingy, needy, and the last thing you wanted was to drive him away.

so you kept it all locked up, burying the insecurities deeper until they were practically choking you. and that’s when the nightmares started - vivid, gut-wrenching dreams of bucky walking away, of him choosing natasha over you, leaving you in the dust without a second glance.

you’d wake up gasping, tears streaming down your face, but you never told him. you couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking you were weak, that you were doubting him. 

but the cracks were starting to show, no matter how hard you tried to hide them. bucky could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, but he didn’t know how to fix it. he just held you tighter, kissed you longer, hoping it would be enough to chase away whatever demons were haunting you.

but it wasn’t enough. not this time.

 it happened on a friday, the kind of day that started off unremarkable and ended with everything falling apart. you’d been looking forward to a quiet evening at home, maybe ordering takeout and curling up with a good book while waiting for bucky to come back from his latest mission. he’d promised it was a quick one, nothing too dangerous, just an intel-gathering job that would have him back before midnight.

you should have known better. things rarely went according to plan when it came to the avengers’ line of work. but you’d let yourself relax, lulled into a false sense of security by the thought of a quiet night in. you were in the middle of deciding between thai or pizza when it all went wrong.

the first sign was the knock at your door. you weren’t expecting anyone, but you figured it might be one of the neighbors, maybe asking to borrow something or returning the package that got delivered to their apartment by mistake. you didn’t think twice before unlocking it, didn’t even look through the peephole.

big mistake.

the door burst open, slamming into you with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs. you stumbled back, dazed, and that’s when you saw them - three men, all dressed in black tactical gear, their faces hidden behind masks. panic flared in your chest, but before you could even think to scream, one of them was on you, clamping a hand over your mouth while the other pinned your arms to your sides.

you fought, kicking and writhing, but it was no use. they were bigger, stronger, and they had the element of surprise on their side. something cold and metal pressed against your neck - a needle. you barely registered the sting before everything went dark.

when you came to, your head was pounding, your mouth dry as sandpaper. it took a moment for the world to come into focus, and when it did, you wished it hadn’t. you were in a dimly lit room, concrete walls and a single flickering bulb overhead. the air was damp and musty, the scent of mildew making your stomach churn.

your wrists were bound behind you, ropes digging into your skin, and your ankles were similarly tied to the legs of the chair you were sitting in. every part of you ached, from the bruises forming on your ribs to the throbbing in your temples. you blinked against the haze, trying to remember how you’d gotten here, but it all came flooding back in bits and pieces - the masked men, the needle, the suffocating darkness.

“look who’s finally awake.”

the voice was cold, mocking, and it sent a shiver down your spine. you turned your head to see one of your captors leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest. he was tall, built like a tank, with a scar running down the side of his face. behind him, another man paced back and forth, the metallic clink of his boots echoing in the small space.

“who are you?” you managed to croak out, your throat raw.

the man ignored your question, pushing off the wall and sauntering over to you. “you know, this could’ve been a lot easier,” he said, crouching down so he was eye level with you. “we didn’t want to take you. we were after someone else. but i guess you’ll have to do.”

your heart skipped a beat. “what are you talking about?”

“we wanted the winter soldier,” he replied, his grin widening. “but he’s gotten soft. too many friends, too many ties. makes it hard to get to him. so we figured, why not take someone he cares about? see if that old killer instinct kicks back in.”

fear lanced through you, sharp and sudden. they were using you as bait. your mind raced, a thousand horrible scenarios flashing before your eyes. bucky would come for you, of course he would. but the thought of him turning back into the winter soldier, of all that progress undone because of you - it was almost too much to bear.

“he won’t come,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt. “you’re wasting your time.”

but the man just laughed, like you’d told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “oh, sweetheart, i think we both know that’s not true. but just in case… let’s give him a little motivation.”

without warning, he swung his fist into your side, hard enough to knock the wind out of you. pain exploded in your ribs, and you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry. you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. but the hits kept coming, each one worse than the last, until you were gasping for breath, stars dancing in your vision.

“you really think he cares?” the other man sneered, circling you like a predator. “if he did, he’d be here by now. maybe we should’ve taken the black widow instead. bet he’d come running for her.”

the words cut deep, reopening the wounds you’d tried so hard to close. you knew it was a lie, just another tactic to break you, but it still stung. the doubts you’d buried resurfaced, louder and crueller than ever. what if they were right? what if bucky didn’t care as much as you thought? what if he was already too late?

you closed your eyes, trying to block out their taunts, but the darkness was worse. it was like being trapped in your own mind, the insecurities feeding off the pain, growing stronger with every second that ticked by.

“face it,” the man whispered in your ear, his breath hot and rancid. “you’re just a means to an end. he’s not coming for you. no one is.”

meanwhile, miles away, bucky was losing his mind. he’d known something was wrong the moment he’d come back to the apartment and found the door ajar, the lock busted. his heart had dropped into his stomach, a cold dread settling over him as he stepped inside, calling your name.

but there was no answer, just the eerie silence of an empty home. the place was in disarray - furniture overturned, shards of glass scattered across the floor, the faint scent of gunpowder lingering in the air. and then he saw it: your phone, discarded on the ground, the screen cracked.

“no, no, no,” he muttered, a sense of panic clawing at his throat. he’d grabbed the device, trying to call you, but it went straight to voicemail. every second that passed felt like an eternity, the fear tightening around his chest like a vise.

he didn’t waste any time. within minutes, he was on the phone with sam, his voice raw and desperate as he explained what had happened. “she’s gone, sam. they took her.”

“we’ll find her, buck,” sam had promised, his tone steady even as tension crept in. “we’ll get her back.”

but bucky was already on the move, the old instincts kicking in as he pulled every string, called in every favour he had. he tore through the city like a man possessed, following every lead, every whisper, but it was like chasing shadows. 

“dammit!” he snarled, slamming his fist into the dashboard of his car, the metal denting under the force. he could feel himself slipping, the old rage bubbling up, threatening to consume him. but he couldn’t afford to lose control. not now. not when you were counting on him.

he had to find you. he had to get to you before it was too late.

you didn’t know how long you’d been there, time blurring into a painful haze of darkness and agony. every inch of you hurt, from the bruises blooming across your skin to the raw, chafed skin around your wrists where you’d tried to pull free. the taunts never stopped, a constant barrage of words designed to break you down, to make you doubt everything.

“he’s forgotten about you,” one of the men said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “he’s probably with the redhead right now. why would he bother with damaged goods like you?”

you were so tired, so damn tired. every bone in your body ached, and it was getting harder to stay awake, to keep fighting. but you couldn’t give up, not yet. because somewhere, deep down, you still believed in him. you still believed he’d come.

and then, just when you were starting to think you’d never see him again, you heard it - a distant crash, followed by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. hope, fragile and fleeting, sparked in your chest. you struggled to lift your head, blinking against the pain.

“bucky…?”

the world around you was a blur of pain and exhaustion, your captors’ cruel words echoing in your mind like a broken record. the room was spinning, the edges of your vision growing dark as your strength waned. you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on, the fight draining out of you with each passing second. 

but then - there was a sound. faint at first, barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears, but it grew louder, more distinct. the unmistakable roar of gunfire, the heavy thud of boots against concrete. something inside you stirred, a flicker of hope that you hadn’t felt in what felt like a lifetime. 

“bucky…” you whispered, the name slipping from your cracked lips like a prayer. 

the door to the room you were trapped in exploded inward with a deafening crash, sending shards of wood flying. you flinched, your heart lurching in your chest, but then you saw him - bucky barnes, standing there like an angel, his face a mask of fury. 

his blue eyes were wild, searching, locking onto yours the moment he saw you slumped in the chair. “baby,” he breathed, his voice breaking on the single word. he was at your side in an instant, his metal arm slicing through the ropes that bound you, freeing you from your restraints. 

you tried to speak, tried to reach out to him, but your body was too weak, too battered. your vision blurred, and you swayed, only for bucky to catch you, pulling you into his arms with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the violence still crackling in the air around him. 

“i’m here, i’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. he cradled your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over the bruise blooming on your cheek, his touch achingly tender. “look at me, sweetheart. open those pretty eyes for me, okay?” 

you tried, but everything hurt. every inch of you was screaming in pain, your body barely holding itself together after the relentless beating you’d endured. 

“they - they said…” you choked out, tears spilling down your cheeks. “they said you wouldn’t come… that you’d never come for me like you would for natasha.” 

the words shattered something in bucky, his jaw clenching, his eyes darkening with a pain that matched your own. “don’t you ever think that,” he said fiercely, his voice a low growl. “you are everything to me. no one - no one - comes close to what you mean to me.” 

you wanted to believe him, but the doubts still lingered, the echoes of your captors’ taunts ringing in your ears. they’d broken something inside you, something that bucky was desperately trying to piece back together with every gentle touch, every whispered word. 

he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i was tearing this city apart looking for you. i’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby.” 

but there was no more time for words, not when the sound of approaching footsteps signalled the arrival of more enemies. bucky’s eyes hardened, the winter soldier slipping into place as he gently laid you down on the floor, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. 

“stay here, okay? just for a minute,” he said, his voice steady now, controlled. “i’m gonna take care of this.” 

you nodded weakly, your body trembling as you watched him stand, turning to face the oncoming threat. he was a force of nature, moving with a deadly grace that took your breath away, every movement precise and lethal. 

you tried to stay awake, tried to focus on the sight of him, but your body was shutting down, the pain too much to bear. you could hear the sounds of battle, the screams and gunfire, but it all felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp. 

when you came to again, it was quiet. the kind of quiet that felt heavy, like the world was holding its breath. you blinked, your vision clearing slowly, and the first thing you saw was bucky kneeling beside you, his face streaked with blood and sweat. 

“you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. “you’re safe now.” 

you tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit you, and bucky was there, his arms steady around you, holding you close. “easy, easy,” he said, his hand gently brushing through your hair. “i’ve got you.” 

you leaned into him, your body shaking, and for a moment, all you could do was breathe him in, the familiar scent of leather and metal grounding you in a way nothing else could. 

“you came for me,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. 

“of course i did,” he said, his voice fierce and raw. “i’ll always come for you.” 

but even as he held you, you couldn’t shake the lingering doubts, the fears that had taken root deep inside you. “why?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. “why would you… when you could have natasha? she’s… she’s perfect, bucky. she’s everything i’m not.” 

his grip tightened on you, his hands trembling slightly. “don’t say that,” he said, his voice low and desperate. “you’re not a consolation prize. you’re not second to anyone. nat’s a good friend, but she’s not you. no one could ever be you.” 

the tears came then, hot and fast, and you couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that had been building inside you for what felt like forever. bucky held you through it, his arms strong and steady, his whispers a lifeline in the darkness. 

“i’m sorry,” you sobbed, your hands clutching at his shirt, desperate for something solid, something real. “i’m so sorry, bucky.” 

he shook his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your temple, your cheek, like he couldn’t stop himself. “no, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m the one who’s sorry. i should have done more to make you feel safe, to make you feel loved.” 

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, to really see him, and what you saw there took your breath away. it was love, pure and unfiltered, shining in his blue eyes, his gaze locked on you like you were the only thing that mattered. 

“you… you really mean that?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

“damn right, i do,” he said, his lips curving into a small, soft smile. “you’re everything to me. nothing and no one could ever change that.” 

he kissed you then, slow and gentle, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every promise, into that kiss. and for the first time in what felt like forever, the doubts started to fade, the fears quieting into nothingness. 

bucky didn’t leave your side after that, not even for a moment. he carried you out of that hellhole, his arms strong and sure around you, and when you were finally safe, finally back in the comfort of your shared apartment, he stayed with you, tending to your wounds with a tenderness that made your heart ache. 

“i’m not letting you out of my sight again,” he said, his voice low and fierce as he wrapped a bandage around your wrist. “not ever.” 

“i think i’d be okay with that,” you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

he looked up at you then, his eyes softening, and for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of warmth, of hope. “i love you,” he said, the words slipping out like a confession, like something he’d been holding back for far too long. 

your breath hitched, tears welling in your eyes. “i love you too, bucky,” you whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek. “i always have.” 

he kissed you again, soft and sweet, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything was okay. because you had him, and he had you, and that was all that mattered. 

🌀 two weeks later… 

the rain outside was a gentle lull, a soft patter against the windows that filled the quiet of your shared bedroom. the storm had come out of nowhere, blanketing the city in a soft gray, but inside, wrapped up in bucky's arms, everything was warm and bright. 

you were lying on his chest, your fingers tracing absent patterns over the smooth lines of his metal arm, marvelling at the way it glinted even in the dim light. his other arm was draped over your waist, holding you close, like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go even for a second. 

“you know,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest, “i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of this.” 

“tired of what?” you asked, your voice soft, a little teasing. 

“this,” he said, squeezing you just a bit tighter. “having you here. being able to hold you like this.” 

a smile tugged at your lips, a warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the blankets cocooning you both. it was moments like this, the simple, quiet ones, that made all the darkness, all the doubts, feel like a distant memory. 

“i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of it either,” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. 

his eyes were that perfect shade of blue, soft and warm as they watched you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “good,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.” 

you laughed, a light, breathy sound that made his smile widen, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. 

there had been a time, not so long ago, when you would have doubted this, doubted him. when you would have let the fears, the insecurities, creep in and convince you that this, that he, was too good to be true. but now, lying here in his arms, it all felt so silly, so far away. 

“you know,” you said softly, your fingers still tracing those gentle patterns on his arm, “i used to wonder… why you’d want me. i used to think i wasn’t enough.” 

his brow furrowed, the faintest hint of sadness clouding his eyes. “don’t ever think that,” he said, his voice low and serious. “you’re more than enough for me, doll. you’re everything.” 

you felt your cheeks heat up at his words, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “i believe you,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him, soft and slow. 

he sighed into the kiss, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you there like he never wanted to let go. when you finally pulled away, he was looking at you with that same look he always did, like you were the most precious thing in his world. 

“i’m glad you do,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “because i’m gonna spend every day proving it to you.” 

“you already have,” you said, resting your forehead against his. “you always do.” 

he hummed, a soft, content sound, and then he was rolling over, pulling you with him so that you were both lying on your sides, face to face. 

“good,” he said, his voice a low whisper in the quiet room. “because i’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. you’re stuck with me.” 

you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up at that, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “sounds like a dream come true,” you teased, your smile widening when he leaned in to steal another kiss. 

“damn right, it is,” he said, his eyes twinkling with that playful light you loved so much. 

and as he held you there, the storm raging outside but nothing but warmth and love between you, you knew that he meant it. all those old fears, those insecurities - they were nothing compared to the love he showed you, every single day, in every single way. 

because this was real, he was real, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be. 

🌀 bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[novaursa]

What about a Jace x sister

Where he fell in love with her and in the same time he is not ok with it. He might be the only Targaryen related who thinks that’s not okay to loved their related. But no matter how he can stopped loving her, she might have a look more “Targaryen” with white hair with some black in it (narcissia Malfoy style?)

He always do some weird shit to be closed to her without drow to much attention, And when they finally get really closed their mother call all the bastard to become dragon rider. And Ulf find them in the Pit and try to get something from them in exchange of his silence.

Jace wake up and choose violence 🫣 and just say no and fuxk her in front of him and say that if he say anything he make sure his dragon will eat him

Sins of the Blood

- Summary: Jacaerys always loved his sister, more than he should. It was wrong, he knew it, but the dragon in him claimed you as his long ago.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've bonded the reader with Grey Ghost for the plot.

The sea breeze dances through the open halls of Dragonstone, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant roar of the waves. You stand with Baela and Rhaena on the sun-warmed terrace overlooking the cliffs, the three of you bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Your laughter rings out, clear and melodic, mingling with the cries of the gulls that circle above.

Jacaerys Velaryon watches from a distance, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He knows he should not be here, should not be watching you so closely, but he cannot help himself. You, his sister, the only daughter of Rhaenyra, have been a constant presence in his life, a source of both comfort and confusion. His eyes trace the silver streaks in your hair, a reminder of your Targaryen blood, mingling with the deep brown inherited from your true father, though only you, he, and his mother know the truth.

He remembers when you were children, how you would chase each other through the halls of the Red Keep, your laughter infectious, your bond inseparable. He had always been protective of you, even when you didn’t need it. You were fierce, a dragon through and through, and yet, as you stand now with Baela and Rhaena, there is a softness to you, a grace that makes his breath catch in his throat.

"Do you remember the first time we flew together?" Baela’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. She grins at you, her violet eyes bright with the memory.

"Of course," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. "I thought Jace would never let me ride my own dragon, he was so worried."

Jace feels a pang at your words, both pride and regret mingling in his chest. He had always been overly cautious with you, more so than with Luke or Joffrey. Perhaps he had always known, even then, that his feelings for you were not entirely brotherly.

Rhaena giggles, leaning in closer to you. "He’s always been that way, hasn’t he? Always the protector, always looking after you."

You shrug, though the warmth in your eyes betrays your affection. "He cares. That’s just how he is."

Jace clenches his fists at his sides, torn between the pride that swells in him at your words and the guilt that gnaws at him for the thoughts he cannot seem to banish. He knows it is wrong—this desire that burns in him like dragonfire—but it is also undeniably a part of him, a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

Take what is yours. The words echo in his mind, a voice that is both his own and something darker, something ancient. The blood of the dragon runs hot in his veins, urging him to act, to claim what he believes is his by right. You are his sister, yes, but you are also so much more. You are the embodiment of everything he has ever wanted, ever desired.

You turn then, as if sensing his gaze, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the world seems to stop. The laughter of Baela and Rhaena fades into the background, the sound of the waves dulls, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

"Jace," you call out, your voice breaking the spell. "Come join us!"

There is no hesitation in your invitation, no hint that you are aware of the storm raging inside him. You are just his sister, inviting him to share in the simple joy of the evening, oblivious to the battle he fights within.

He forces a smile, masking the turmoil beneath, and steps forward. "I was just enjoying the view," he says, his voice betraying nothing.

Rhaena giggles again, nudging Baela. "See, I told you he’s always watching over her."

Baela laughs, a sound like the tinkling of bells. "It’s because he’s a good brother."

The words cut deeper than they should, a cruel reminder of the line he cannot cross. He wants to be a good brother, he truly does. But the blood of the dragon does not care for such boundaries. The blood of the dragon demands more.

As he approaches, you smile up at him, that same smile that has always had the power to calm him, to soothe the fire within. But today, it only stokes the flames higher.

"Are you alright?" you ask softly, your eyes searching his face for something he cannot give.

He nods, the lie slipping easily from his lips. "Of course. Just… thinking."

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing look passing over your face. "You think too much, Jace. You always have."

He laughs, though it is a strained sound. "Someone has to, with you lot always running headlong into trouble."

Baela snorts. "As if you don’t love it."

He shrugs, unable to deny it. "Perhaps."

You laugh then, a sound so pure and unburdened that it twists something deep in his chest. How can you be so carefree, so unaware of the darkness that haunts him?

The conversation drifts to other things—plans for the next dragonride, the latest antics of your younger brothers—but Jace finds it hard to focus. His eyes keep returning to you, to the way the setting sun catches in your hair, to the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. Every moment is a battle, every word a reminder of what he can never have.

Take what is yours. The voice whispers again, insistent, relentless.

He pushes it down, burying it beneath layers of duty, of honor, of love for his family. But it is there, always there, a part of him that he can never truly silence.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in shades of orange and gold, you turn to him once more, your expression soft, almost tender.

"Thank you, Jace," you say quietly.

He frowns, unsure of what you mean. "For what?"

You smile, and it is a smile that breaks him, because it is so full of warmth, of trust, of love. "For always being there. For always watching over me."

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Always," he promises, and it is both a vow and a curse.

You reach out, your hand brushing against his arm, and the simple touch sends a shock through him, setting his nerves alight. For a moment, he forgets himself, forgets everything but you.

But then Baela speaks up, her voice pulling him back to reality. "We should head inside. It’s getting late."

You nod, but your eyes linger on his for a moment longer, as if searching for something, something you cannot name.

Jace watches as you turn away, following Baela and Rhaena back into the castle, your laughter fading into the evening air. He stays behind, his heart a tumult of emotion, his mind a battlefield.

He knows what he feels is wrong. He knows that he should push these thoughts away, should bury them deep where they can never see the light of day. But he also knows that the blood of the dragon is not so easily denied.

As the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, Jace makes a silent vow to himself. He will protect you, he will care for you, as a brother should. But he will also fight this desire, this hunger that threatens to consume him. He will not let it destroy him, or you.

But deep down, he knows that it will be difficult.

And as he watches the last light of day fade into night, he wonders if it ever truly will be.

Months have passed since that evening on the terrace, and yet the fire within Jacaerys Velaryon has not dimmed. If anything, it has only grown stronger, a persistent heat that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to consume him at every turn. He has thrown himself into his duties, into training and studies, hoping that the rigor will burn away these unwanted desires. But nothing works. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the pull you have on him.

Today, he finds himself wandering through the halls of Dragonstone, his mind restless, his heart unsettled. The castle is quiet, the stillness only amplifying his thoughts. His feet carry him to the library, a place he knows you often retreat to when you seek solace or simply a moment of peace. He tells himself it is a coincidence, that he has come here to study, to distract himself with books and knowledge. But deep down, he knows the truth.

As he enters the library, the scent of aged parchment and ink greets him, a familiar comfort. He pauses in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they find you, seated near the window, the light of the midday sun casting a soft glow around you. You are engrossed in a book, your silver-streaked hair falling over your face, your expression serene. The sight of you, so peaceful and unguarded, sends a wave of warmth through him, and before he can stop himself, he is walking towards you.

You look up as he approaches, a smile tugging at your lips. "Jace," you greet him, your voice soft and welcoming. "What brings you here?"

He hesitates, his mind racing for an excuse. "I thought I might find you here," he admits, the words tumbling out before he can catch them. "I wanted to see if you needed any help with your studies."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Since when do you offer to help with my studies?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I just thought... we haven't spent much time together lately. I miss it."

Your expression softens at his words, and you close the book in your hands, setting it aside. "I’ve missed it too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He can feel the tension between you, a charged energy that crackles in the air. The pull is stronger now, a magnetic force that draws him closer, and before he knows it, he is sitting beside you, his body instinctively leaning towards yours.

"What are you reading?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glance at the book, then back at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "A history of Old Valyria. I’ve always been fascinated by our ancestors, by the dragons and the blood magic they wielded."

"Of course," he murmurs, though he hardly registers the words. He is too focused on the way your hand rests so close to his, the way your eyes seem to shimmer in the light. "Our blood is strong, isn’t it? The blood of the dragon."

You nod, your gaze holding his. "It is. It’s what makes us who we are."

The words resonate deep within him, a reminder of the truth he has tried so hard to ignore. The blood of the dragon is what binds you together, but it is also what drives him to the brink of madness. The fire that burns in his veins is not just a curse, but a part of him, a part of you. And he is no longer sure if he can continue to fight it.

"I wanted to ask you something," you say suddenly, breaking the silence that has settled between you.

He blinks, trying to focus. "What is it?"

You hesitate for a moment, as if gathering your thoughts. "I was wondering if you could help me with my dragon training. Grey Ghost is so much more... spirited than he used to be, and I thought maybe you could help me understand him better."

Jace swallows hard, the thought of spending more time with you, alone and away from prying eyes, sending a thrill through him. But it is also dangerous, more dangerous than anything he has faced before. Still, he finds himself nodding. "Of course. I’d be glad to help."

You smile, a smile that warms him from the inside out, and he knows he is lost. He cannot deny you, cannot deny himself any longer. The pull is too strong, the fire too fierce. And as you rise to your feet, gesturing for him to follow, he feels that pull tighten, like a chain around his heart, binding him to you.

The two of you walk side by side through the corridors of Dragonstone, the silence between you comfortable, yet charged with an unspoken tension. Your presence is a balm to him, calming and yet igniting something deep within, something he can no longer ignore. Every brush of your arm against his, every glance in his direction, fans the flames higher, until he feels as though he might burst from the sheer force of it.

When you reach the courtyard where the dragons are kept, you turn to him, your eyes bright with excitement. "Let’s start with the basics," you say, your voice full of eagerness. "You’ve always been better at this than I am."

Jace shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "It’s not about being better," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It’s about understanding them, forming a bond with them."

You nod, your attention fully on him now, and he feels a surge of pride at the trust you place in him. "I know," you say softly. "And I trust you to help me."

The words strike him like a blow, the weight of your trust almost too much to bear. He wants to be worthy of it, to be the brother you believe him to be. But he also wants more, so much more, and it terrifies him.

As you step closer to him, your arm brushing against his, he feels that pull again, stronger than ever. He knows he should move away, put some distance between you, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Instead, he finds himself leaning in, his body drawn to yours like a moth to flame.

"You know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I’ve always felt safest when I’m with you."

The confession catches him off guard, and he looks down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. "Why?"

You smile up at him, a gentle, almost shy smile. "Because you’ve always been there for me, Jace. No matter what."

His breath catches in his throat, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. The pull between you is undeniable now, a force of nature that neither of you can resist. And as you stand there, so close that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, he knows that he is about to cross a line that he can never return from.

But before he can act, before he can make the decision that will change everything, you reach out and take his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through him, and he is lost, completely and utterly lost.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken.

He looks down at you, his heart in his throat, and he knows that this is it. This is the moment he has been dreading, the moment he has been craving. The pull between you is too strong, the fire too fierce, and he knows that there is no going back.

But then, as if sensing the turmoil within him, you give his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Thank you," you say, your voice soft and sincere. "For always being there."

And just like that, the moment passes. The tension between you eases, and you step back, releasing his hand. The pull is still there, still strong, but it is no longer overwhelming. For now, it is enough to simply be with you, to feel your presence beside him, to know that you trust him.

As you turn your attention back to the dragons, Jace takes a deep breath, steadying himself. The battle within him is far from over, but for now, he has won a small victory. He has resisted the pull, resisted the fire. But he knows it is only a matter of time before the dragon within him demands more.

And when that time comes, he is not sure if he will be able to resist.

The winds howl around the jagged peaks of Dragonmont, the volcanic heart of Dragonstone. The sky above is dark, thick clouds swirling in ominous patterns, but here, beneath the shelter of the mountain, you and Jacaerys find solace in the company of your dragons. Vermax and Grey Ghost, their massive forms partially obscured by the mist that clings to the rocky terrain, rest quietly nearby, their watchful eyes ever alert.

The air between you and Jace is charged, as it has been for days now. Since the arrival of the Dragonseeds and the beginning of the Red Sowing, there has been an unspoken tension, a shared anxiety that neither of you has fully voiced. Today, it seems, that silence is about to be broken.

Jace paces before you, his brow furrowed, his steps uneven. "I can’t help but worry," he finally says, his voice low, almost a growl. "Mother’s decision to let these Dragonseeds try to claim the dragons… it could destroy everything. The only thing that sets us apart, that makes us legitimate in the eyes of the realm, is our bond with the dragons. What happens if anyone can do it? What happens if they succeed?"

You watch him, feeling the weight of his concern settle over you like a heavy cloak. You understand his fear; it echoes within you as well. "They are Targaryen bastards, Jace," you say softly, trying to find the right words. "The blood of the dragon runs in their veins, even if the world doesn’t see them as we are seen. But you are right to be cautious. We cannot control what might happen if they succeed. But we can control how we respond."

He stops pacing, turning to face you fully. His dark eyes are intense, filled with worry and something deeper, something you’ve seen growing there in recent days. "What if it shatters everything? What if the realm no longer sees us as the rightful heirs? If they can claim dragons, what does that mean for us?"

You rise from your seat on a smooth outcropping of rock, moving closer to him, your steps slow and deliberate. You can feel the warmth of the dragons nearby, the heat from the mountain beneath your feet, but most of all, you feel the heat radiating from Jace, a fire that matches your own.

"We are more than our dragons," you say, your voice steady. "We are the blood of the dragon, yes, but we are also our mother’s children, the heirs of House Targaryen. That will not change, no matter what happens with the Dragonseeds."

Jace’s gaze softens as he looks at you, the storm in his eyes momentarily easing. "You always know what to say," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I’m still afraid. Afraid of what this means for us, for our family."

You reach out, your hand finding his, and the contact sends a spark through you both. "Then we face it together," you say firmly, your fingers tightening around his. "Whatever comes, we face it together, as we always have."

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the kind of silence that speaks louder than words. The dragons are quiet too, their presence a comforting weight in the background. Jace’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

Without thinking, you step closer, and suddenly the space between you is gone. You can feel his breath on your skin, warm and unsteady, and the intensity in his eyes is almost too much to bear. The pull between you is stronger than ever, an undeniable force that you can no longer resist.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken, something that has been building for so long.

He doesn’t reply, at least not with words. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both hesitant and eager, as if he is afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you kiss him back, your hands moving to cup his face, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks, months, perhaps even years, pouring out in that single moment. It is as if the fire that has always burned between you has finally found release, and there is no stopping it now.Jace’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the desperation in his touch, the need that mirrors your own. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"So have I," you admit, the words coming out in a breathless rush. "Jace, I—"

He silences you with another kiss, more urgent this time, and you can feel his hands moving to the fastenings of your attire. There is a moment of hesitation, a final chance to turn back, but neither of you takes it. Instead, you help him, your fingers trembling as they work to undo his clothing as well.

The air is cool against your skin as your garments fall away, but you hardly notice. All you can focus on is Jace, on the way his hands move over your body, on the way he looks at you as if you are the only thing that matters in the world. And perhaps, in this moment, you are.

He guides you down onto the warm rock, his movements careful, almost reverent. The heat from the mountain seeps into your skin, mixing with the heat of his touch, and you feel yourself trembling, not from fear, but from anticipation.When he finally joins with you, the pain is brief, a sharp sting that quickly fades, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly connected to him. Jace pauses, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for your permission to continue.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat, but the look in your eyes says everything. "Please," you whisper, and that is all it takes.

He begins to move, slow at first, almost tentative, but as the moments pass, the hesitation fades, replaced by a growing urgency, a passion that neither of you can control. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him on, meeting his every movement with your own.

The world around you fades, the sounds of the dragons, the wind, the distant roar of the sea, all becoming nothing more than a distant echo. There is only Jace, only the fire that burns between you, the flames that consume you both, driving you higher and higher until you feel as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it.

Just as you reach the peak of your union, lost in the sensation of him, you hear a sound, the soft crunch of footsteps on the volcanic rock. Your eyes snap open, and you see him—Ulf the White, one of the Dragonseeds, standing a short distance away, his expression one of surprise and amusement.

Jace’s movements slow as he becomes aware of the intruder, but he doesn’t stop, his body still pressed intimately against yours. His eyes narrow, and you can feel the tension in him, the protective instinct that flares up at the sight of another man watching you in such a vulnerable moment.

Ulf’s smirk widens as he recognizes both of you, his voice carrying an easy confidence as he speaks. "Well, well, what do we have here? Prince Jacaerys and his fair sister, indulging in some… private time, I see."

Jace doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on Ulf, his body shielding yours from view. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. "You will leave now, Ulf. And you will speak of this to no one."

Ulf’s amusement doesn’t fade. "And if I don’t? I imagine this little secret could be worth quite a bit."

Jace’s expression hardens, the dragon within him rising to the surface. "I have another proposition for you. Leave now and never speak of this, or tell someone… and Vermax will feast on your bones."

The threat hangs in the air, thick with the promise of violence. Ulf’s smile falters, the realization of Jace’s seriousness sinking in. He glances at the dragons, both Vermax and Grey Ghost now fully alert, their eyes locked on him, and he takes an involuntary step back.

"Fine," Ulf mutters, the bravado gone from his voice. "Your secret’s safe with me, Prince Jacaerys. I was never here." With that, he turns and hurries away, casting one last nervous glance at the dragons before disappearing into the mist.

Jace watches him go, his body still tense, but as the danger passes, his attention shifts back to you, his focus returning to the moment you had both been lost in. The fire that had momentarily cooled begins to burn again, his hands finding yours, his gaze intense.

"I will marry you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "In the traditions of our ancestors, in the ways of Old Valyria. You are mine, and I am yours, for now and forever."

The words send a shiver through you, the weight of them, the promise in them, filling you with a sense of certainty, of belonging. You nod, your voice trembling as you respond. "Yes, Jace. Yes."

And as he moves within you once more, the world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by the fire of your blood.

[twinsarekeepers]

“This isn’t the Arch, seaweed brain. You’re not pushing me into the stairwell again.”

First of all, LINE DELIVERY?? Leah Sava Jeffries is an ACTRESS because ‘seaweed brain’ is actually so corny and it would simply feel like fan-service if they included it earlier or in another context but this was so natural and I was so swept up by all the other amazing things happening that I was excited about it but also keyed into the rest of the scene.

But the way this perfectly displays her fatal flaw. She will not let this boy trick her again (spoiler: he does). She was caught off guard at the Arch because she wasn’t familiar with his game but now she’s ready. She WILL die for him and that is final.

“Yes, I am.”

This was CRAZY?? Percy Jackson #1 mentally unstable man because how is he determined to win every ‘sacrifice myself’ off with her? And he says it to her face too. He does not care for the games anymore, he’s fully telling her that he needs her to live.

“I’m not going to let you this time. It doesn’t work that way!”

This made me so incredibly sad. Annabeth is still thinking in transactions. She’s thinking about how he made a sacrifice in the Arch so it’s her turn now. This is how relationships work. This is how every relationship she’s had works. She literally can’t comprehend how he doesn’t see it that way. How he could be selfless enough to sacrifice himself for her TWICE. How he could care about her enough to believe she deserves it even after she was the reason they were in the Arch in the first place (my baby my baby say it with me now you’re my baby).

“It’s why you’re here!”

“Excuse me?”

This was so soft like I just *screaming crying gif*. The last time she said ‘excuse me’ to him she was pissed off about him bringing up Athena but now she’s just confused and sad. Like, she trying to figure out what he means by this. Does he think she’s so heartless and robotic that she’d just let him die for her own gain?

I also love how they don’t have her say ‘what?’ because it just adds this extra layer of how Annabeth has trained herself to be more mature in everything she does, even her language, because she believes that if she’s not perfect, she’s not worthy of love and affection and maybe even existing (literally sobbing wtf).

“When I was choosing my team, I told Chiron I needed someone who wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice me if the quest required it. He agreed. That was you.”

I was confused at first about this because I thought Annabeth knew Percy thought this about her until I went back and watched the choosing ceremony again. He’s definitely keeping his voice lower as he speaks to Chiron and both Chiron and him are raising their voice as they address the other campers so makes sense that she wouldn’t have heard him.

But also, this just adds so much to literally everything. Because, in the beginning, Percy didn’t think him and Annabeth would become friends. He genuinely did think that she would sacrifice him if she had to and he thought he’d be able to curb it. He thought he’d be able to fight Annabeth if it came to it because she might choose the quest over his mom and he couldn’t allow that.

But now here he is, after getting to know her, and seeing her vulnerability and bravery and strength and courage and wisdom and passion and everything that makes her so beautiful and wonderful and amazing and his friend. She’s his friend and she’d never betray him. She’d never sacrifice him. She’d rather sacrifice herself before she ever did anything to harm him.

And he’s apologizing to her. Listen to the way Walker says the last line (again, THE ACTING). It’s literally a confession because he feels so bad that he ever believed that about her. And now he’s making her do it. He’s making her do this thing that he once thought she’d have done without hesitation. He’s thinking about the Fates cutting that string and he’s thinking about his own words to Chiron and how Chiron agreed and he’s thinking about how Annabeth said that prophecies aren’t always clear and he fully believes that he’s figured it out. This is fate. Annabeth would sacrifice him and complete the prophecy. She’ll be the friend that betrays him but not because she wanted to and he will fail to save what matters most, his own life.

This entire exchange was very insane. It’s my Roman Empire. I can’t stop thinking about it because it shows their motivations and their viewpoints and their internal struggles so so so well like I can’t even … I’m having a malfunction.

[cutielando]

"bad" girl | carlos sainz

synopsis: in which you can't catch a break from the criticism

a/n: based on this request! i based this when Charles and Carlos were still teammates in Ferrari

pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc!reader

my masterlist

The Monaco sun bore down on the paddock, its golden glow making everything seem brighter—everything except the storm brewing inside you.

It wasn’t the first time you had been caught between your brother and your boyfriend, and knowing the way the media twisted narratives, it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

"She's in Carlos' garage again?"

"Guess we know where her loyalty lies"

"Poor Charles. His own sister doesn’t even support him"

The whispers never stopped. No matter what you did, someone had an opinion about it. If you were seen with Carlos, you were a bad sister. If you were supporting Charles, you were a neglectful girlfriend.

There was no winning with them.

But today, after months of keeping quiet, you had had enough.

♡♡♡♡♡

The weekend had started out promising. Monaco was home for both you and Charles, and it was always a special kind of race. One where your family was present, where old childhood memories resurfaced as you walked the familiar streets.

You had been excited, looking forward to seeing both Charles and Carlos fight for the top spots in qualifying.

That excitement, however, had quickly soured when you saw the headlines flooding social media.

BREAKING: Charles Leclerc’s sister chooses sides: Spotted in Sainz’s garage instead of her brother’s.

Your grip tightened around your phone as you stared at the article. They made it sound like you were betraying Charles just by standing next to Carlos before his qualifying session.

Never mind the fact that you had been in Charles’ garage just thirty minutes earlier.

Never mind the fact that you loved both of them in completely different ways.

Carlos had seen the article, too. He could always read your mood, even when you tried to mask it. When you arrived at his motorhome later that evening, his first words weren’t hello but instead a soft, “You’re upset”

You sighed, flopping down on the couch.

“I don’t get it. How is it that no matter where I stand, I’m always wrong?”

Carlos sat down beside you, his hand immediately finding yours.

“They don’t know you,” he said simply. “They only know the stories they want to write.”

His words made sense, but they didn’t make the situation any less frustrating.

You were tired of walking a tightrope, tired of constantly having to prove your love for both your brother and your boyfriend.

“I don’t even want to check Twitter,” you muttered, resting your head against Carlos’ shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Then don’t” he whispered.

You wished it were that easy.

♡♡♡♡♡

Race day was no better.

You had split your time between both garages as you always did. Before the race started, you had been by Charles’ side, giving him your usual pre-race pep talk, something you had done for years.

The cameras had captured the moment perfectly — the way Charles smiled at you, the way you squeezed his hand just before he climbed into the car.

But then, once the race started, you had shifted to Carlos' garage. It was an unspoken agreement between you and Charles that you would support Carlos during the race.

Charles had Joris, his mom, and the entire Ferrari team backing him up. Carlos, while also surrounded by his own support system, had you. And you knew how much it meant to him.

The moment you stepped into Carlos’ side of the garage, you could already hear the murmurs.

“She was just with Charles.”

“She really can’t decide, can she?”

“Maybe she should’ve dated someone from another team.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to block out the noise.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

You watched the race unfold, fingers gripping the edge of your seat as both Charles and Carlos fought hard on track. Every overtake, every pit stop, every strategy decision had you on edge.

You just wanted them both to succeed. Was that really so wrong?

When the checkered flag waved, Charles had finished P3, Carlos P5. A bittersweet result.

As soon as you made your way to parc fermé, you congratulated Charles first, wrapping your arms around him. He hugged you back tightly, murmuring a soft "Merci" against your ear.

And then you moved to Carlos, giving him the same love and support.

The cameras caught it all.

By the time you reached your phone again, social media was already on fire.

Does she not realize how bad this looks?

She barely even celebrated with Charles before running to Carlos.

I feel so bad for Charles. Imagine your own sister prioritizing your teammate over you.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, itching to reply. To defend yourself. But you knew it wouldn’t change anything. They had already made up their minds about you.

Carlos must have noticed the way your face fell, because he gently plucked your phone from your hands and locked it.

“Enough of that,” he said, voice firm but gentle. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You hesitated, your eyes darting to your brother's side of the garage.

“But Charles—”

“—is fine,” Carlos assured you. “I’m sure he’ll be the first one to tell you to ignore all this bullshit.”

And he was right.

Later that night, as you sat on Charles’ balcony overlooking the city, your brother nudged your shoulder.

“I saw the things people were saying,” he said. “It’s stupid.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping.

“I just hate that they make it seem like I have to choose between you and Carlos.”

Charles frowned, shaking his head at you.

“You don’t. And you never have to. We both know where your heart is.”

You blinked, looking at him. “You do?”

He nodded. “Yes. And if they can’t see that, then they’re not worth your time.”

A lump formed in your throat, as you tried to keep yourself from crying.

“I just don’t want you to ever feel like I don’t support you.”

Charles gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“I’ve never doubted you, chérie. Not once.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but before they could fall, Charles pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly.

Carlos found you both a few moments later, pausing in the doorway.

“Can I join?”

Charles rolled his eyes but opened an arm, letting Carlos pull you into his chest.

And for the first time that weekend, the noise of the outside world faded away.

You weren’t just Carlos’ girlfriend.

You weren’t just Charles’ sister.

You were you—someone who loved them both with all her heart.

And that was enough.

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[kimstills]

some reassurance - aaron hotchner x gn!reader

in which you try to provide aaron with some reassurance after he asks for his worst qualities.

content warnings: a little hotch aftermath of s2e15 (nothing goes into detail), no haley in this story but no real mentions about her, the team is kind of mean, aaron and reader literally flirting even tho reid just got kidnapped not too long ago. word count: 1.5k a/n: inspired by this post by @greg-montgomery ! my man is not a bully <3 also not proofread oops

he’s a classic narcissist.

he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team.

what’s my worst quality?

i have no sense of humor.

you don’t trust women as much as men.

you can be a drill sergeant sometimes.

you’re a bully.

you’re sure that if the words of the events from the past 12 hours have been ringing in your head since they first happened, they’re probably ringing in hotch’s head, too.

but you’re also sure that he’s trying to play it as if nothing happened. as if he didn’t get completely verbally obliterated by his team members.

you lost count of how many times you had turned to look at hotch from the moment reid had chosen him to be ‘killed’ after tobias hankel had asked him to pick someone from his team. from the moment you had all figured out where the devolving man was keeping reid.

from the moment you had saved your friend, to the moment the case had been wrapped up, to the moment your boss had just now ordered everyone to take the weekend off right after arriving back to the quantico headquarters, despite immediately locking himself in his office afterwards.

you had contemplated saying anything from when reid had first chosen hotch as hankel’s sacrifice, and you contemplate saying anything now as you stare up at his office, the curtains having been drawn and the door closed ever since coming back, even when everyone else was gathering their things and was about ready to leave.

you didn’t know what it was about hotch or your relationship with him, but you had always found yourself protective of him ever since breaking through the ‘cold’ and ‘stoic’ persona the team had made up for him and crafting a genuine friendship with him.

you had been the first to follow after him when he had left the room with all the computer screens where you and your team had watched reid ‘choose’ him, hot on his heels trying to reassure him that the young genius wasn’t in his right mind.

it had been impossible, though, watching in silent horror and palpable confusion as he asked the rest of his team to list his worst qualities while trying to realize that everything spencer said was on purpose.

what emily had said, you had let slide. she was new to the team, and although you reassured her that all would turn fine in her journey with you and the rest of the bau, you couldn’t deny the lack of trust the others had in her.

derek butted heads with hotch the most and was the most brazen when it came to standing up to him, never afraid to call bullshit even with knowing that hotch was hard on him because he knew of morgan’s potential.

what jj had said, though, you didn’t understand. there had never been a time where you could actively recall hotch being purposefully rude or mean to anyone without it being called for.

he could put people in his place and humble an officer or two when needed, but he had never been mean to you nor to anyone else just because. so, when the words ‘bully’ left jj’s mouth, you couldn’t help but furrow your brows and send a glare her way despite the traumatic events she was still reeling through.

spencer had said himself that he knew hotch would understand, so you could only assume that everyone else had assumed the older man wouldn’t take anything personal, especially after being the one to ask the question.

you had only given his shoulder a squeeze seconds after he ordered everyone to get some rest, offering a comforting smile.

but you knew that wasn’t enough.

so, before you even registered what you were doing, you brush past the startled and confused stares derek and emily give you as you stand abruptly from where you had been perched on your desk and march up the stairs to hotch’s office.

the determination in which you made your way up there contrasted from the gentle knock you raptured on his door, waiting patiently for the deep voice to allow you to enter.

at the sound of his permission, you stepped inside, smiling softly when aaron looks up to glance at you.

he’s standing on the left side of his desk, shuffling papers together and sliding them into a manilla folder. he seems tense, like he finally let himself feel what he was trying to avoid back at hankel’s house, but, solely from the warmth of your smile, his shoulders drop and his body languages is immediately relaxed by your presence.

“i thought i sent you home?” he asks, giving you a knowing look as he stacks the folders neatly on one of the baskets he kept in one of the corners of his desk.

you shake your head no, “not yet,” you close the door behind you gently, catching a peek of morgan and prentiss’ confused stares before turning to look at him.

aaron’s brows furrow at you closing his door, “are you alright?” he asks, stopping in his movements.

you shrug, “as alright as i can be, i guess,” you say, fiddling with your fingers. you feel yourself growing shy under his perplexed stare, but you push it down in order to ask, “are you alright?”

aaron blinks at you, the crease in between his forehead deepening even more, if possible. after a second, you can see the gears winding in his head before it all clicks together, the hardening stare he wore slowly dropping as he realizes what you mean.

“i’m fine.” he says shortly. you know from the many times you’ve accompanied other members of your team to check up on him that they would normally drop the questioning after that, but you weren’t like the rest of them. apparently.

“aaron,” you speak up, his gaze immediately flickering back up to you at your use of his first name, “i don’t think you’re a bully,”

your tone is genuine and comforting and he wants nothing but to completely delve into it. to bury himself in that same comfort and simply stay there as you whisper reassurances.

but the only thing he does in response is shake his head, continuing his maneuvering around his desk as a way to avoid what you were trying to do, “y/n, it’s okay.” he shakes his head, “i didn’t take any of it personally. gideon was right; reid wasn’t in his right mind during then,”

you shrug again, trying your best to get him to look at you without rounding his desk and standing right in front of him, “still. what jj said was pretty uncalled for,”

“well, i was the one who practically called for it,” aaron reminds you, looking up at you through his lashes as he continues to fix files.

you hum. you don’t know if what you’re trying to do is working or not, but you see the harsh lines around his brows soften and a faint pink bloom at his cheeks, one that makes your own face heat up.

“well,” you huff, “i also think that you’re pretty funny.” you shrug again, “really funny, actually.”

everything you’re telling him just now is true, but this is the most honest thing yet. derek, emily, and spencer all had their funny moments, yes, but aaron’s sense of humor was very similar to yours. and, to be fair, it didn’t come out as much due to him sticking to that false persona.

but when it did, you were the first one to understand the joke or the first to laugh and even the one laughing the hardest.

once again, aaron is frozen by your words, this time completely dropping what he was doing to stare you with bewilderment. he raises a brow, “you do?” his question is hesitant, like he doesn’t believe you.

and you know that he doesn’t. so you nod, “yeah,” you smile brightly at him, “you make me laugh a lot. even more than morgan.” this time you’re the one hesitating, taking a moment to wonder if what you’re doing is crossing a line between you and him. “or anyone else, really.” you tilt your head, “you’ve never noticed?”

aaron’s face is now a hot pink, and if it wasn’t for the sake of keeping up with his ‘stern’ facade, you’re sure he’d turn away and envelop his face in his hands.

he’s the one to shrug this time, “well, truth be told, i always get distracted by you.” a beat of silence passes before he clears his throat, averting his eyes to what you think is your shoes, “and your laugh.”

you beam despite the feeling of your face getting even hotter at his confession. you can’t help yourself from asking, “you like my laugh?”

“there’s a lot of things i like about you,” aaron admits, much more confident this time, a fond expression adorning his features.

you blush under his gaze, trying your hardest to conceal the wide smile that was threatening to appear on your face. you rock on your heels, hands folded behind your back shyly, “there’s a lot of things i like about you too, hotch.”

“aaron,” he says, not liking the way ‘hotch’ sounded after hearing you say his first name, “aaron, please,”

this time you can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips.

no, aaron hotchner wasn’t a bully at all.

[ask-the-pioneer]

"I sure do! Watch this..."

"I can make explosive spears and throwables, just like my mom did. I can also propel myself in the air by whipping my tail very fast, which sets off the same flammable compound in my tail surface for an explosive boost. Very handy for movement, but also very loud… not great if you're trying to be stealthy. And yeah, my sibling could do that too, but he was always more interested in doing other things. An energetic but very scatterbrained kid that he was."

[She takes aim and throws the spear somewhere far away. It ignites and explodes with a loud dull bang that shakes the ground slightly]

"I can't do that too often, though. Maybe a handful of times in quick succession before my muscles tense up and burn as if scorched by flames. One time it got so bad that I lost consciousness and couldn't move for a couple of minutes after waking up. That was scary, and hurt like hell... since then I've been more careful. That said, I wonder if there are more slugcats with similar abilities to mine out there? I have not met that many scugs in my life to begin with, if I'm honest..."

"Of course I remember my family, how could I not! My sibling's name is… hmmm, right, let me explain this first. Slugcats have very good sense of smell. Usually, we know one another by our unique scents. They are incredibly complex, but can be written down as series of letters, if you map those symbols to the corresponding scent proteins and other chemical compounds. For example, my scent name would be:"

"Addmitely, this notation method is very over-engineered – a slugcat just knows you are you if they smell you. From what I learned, scugs don't really use a coherent writing system.. of any kind. I think the colonies may use pictograms? I uh, I've never been a part of a colony, so I'm missing a lot of info here. Still, what I wrote on the wall – I have used an Ancient script, which I roughly mapped to key compounds that make a scent. As you can see, it's incredibly long, it can also change over time, parts of it can be masked with non-organic aromas to hide your identity, so on and so forth. To simplify even further, these long strings of letters can be shortened to just the last three or two characters, and this is what scugs may choose to use to refer to one another. Here, my scent name is MGV."

"Then, there are names that resemble the form that the Ancients would use. It's considered more refined, and more common in big colonies where people adopt their preferable roles. Those names are viewed as a kind of «gift», because you receive it from your community. It's a symbol of how they see you, what you mean to them. Of course, my closest family was never a part of a colony… but my mom would still give me and my sibling those special names. I was named «Blue», which is the color of the sky above when it's not raining, and the color of clear water. My brother's name is «Bryn» after a very fragrant medicinal plant that relaxes your muscles when consumed. I always found it funny, as my brother was often the one getting in trouble and giving our mom heartaches."

[She pauses for a moment, thinking intensively]

"Hmm, I never thought of asking my mother about her name. I wonder if she had one? To me and it was always just «mom»…"

"My other parent? I never knew him. Must have left just before or right after my mom had me, because there is literally nothing I remember of him… or them… whoever they were."

[She takes some pearls out from her bag, and inspects them one by one just to keep her hands busy]

"Mom would never talk about him, as if he never existed. And I never questioned her, I was too young to understand and simply accepted everything at face value. It was just the way things were. Would I want to meet my other parent? Maybe, but I doubt it'd make a difference. What would I even say to them? «Thanks for abandoning mom and leaving her to fend for herself»? "

"I don't know. Maybe I'm too harsh. Maybe he was a hero who sacrificed themself to save my mother. That could explain why he was never seen or heard of again. But… I have no way of knowing for sure. It's the life I won't be getting back anyway."

// In the second drawing, I've used logographs from @ikayblythe's Standard Hegemonic Dialect

[lady-of-blossoms]

「 ✦ whispers of heartbreak ✦ 」

Warning: angst, infertility, mistress

PART 2

___________________________

The nightmare Y/N experiences throughout her life is having to accept the fact that her husband is careless, remarried and has two wives.

This is because you were unable to get pregnant and in the end were forced to agree to gojo remarrying.

His second wife's pregnancy made the whole family excited and all of gojo’s attention was focused on his second wife—Rebecca.

at dinner and the three of them gathered,gojo , Y/N and Rebecca.

He stroked Rebecca's stomach, who had been pregnant for 6 months. He turned to you who was eating while daydreaming

"Y/N , today I can't accompany you to sleep because I have to look after Rebecca, is that okay?" asked gojo who didn't make an expression when he saw you.

Youre eyes widened slightly at his request, a pang of hurt and disappointment shooting through your chest. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check as you met his gaze.

"Of course, gojo," you replied softly, forcing a smile onto your face. "I understand. Congratulations again on your pregnancy, Rebecca." You offered a genuine smile towards his new wife, youre heart aching at the sight of him so enamored with someone else.

"I'll just go to bed early then," you continued, standing up from the table and gathering your plate. "Have a good night taking care of Rebecca." You gave a small nod before turning to leave, your steps heavy with unshed tears as you retreated to youre bedroom alone once more.

Gojo watched her leave, feeling a twinge of guilt for causing her pain. But he quickly pushed it aside, focusing back on Rebecca. He leaned down to kiss her forehead gently, his hand still resting on her growing belly.

"Thank you, darling," he murmured fondly, before turning his attention back to his meal. "How about we take a nap together after dinner? It might be nice to rest before the baby comes."

He glanced over at Y/N’s empty seat one last time, feeling a pang of regret for how things had turned out between them. But he knew there was nothing he could do to change it now.

In the privacy of their shared bedroom, Y/N allowed herself to crumble. Tears streamed down yourr face as you sank onto the edge of the bed, your body shaking with silent sobs. The sting of rejection cut deep, amplified by the constant reminder of your own infertility.

You curled into herself, hugging your knees tightly to your chest as if to hold yourself together. Your mind raced with painful thoughts - memories of happier times with gojo, dreams of a future that would never come to pass, and the bitter realization that your had lost the man she loved to another woman.

"Why couldn't I give him what he wanted?" You whispered brokenly to yourself, your voice muffled against your knees. "Why wasn't I enough?"

The ache in your heart felt suffocating, like a physical weight pressing against your chest.

Gojo finished his meal and excused himself from the table shortly afterward. As promised, he joined Rebecca in their bedroom for some rest.

He held her close, his arm draped protectively around her waist as they lay down together under the covers. His mind wandered back to Y/n briefly, but he quickly shook off those thoughts, choosing instead to focus on the warmth of Rebecca's body pressed against his own.

"We're going to be parents soon," he thought contentedly, and everything will finally fall into place."

But even amidst this happiness, a nagging sense of guilt lingered at the back of his mind – a guilt he refused to acknowledge fully.

A FEW MONTHS LATER

It was a bittersweet morning for Y/N. Today marked both her birthday and the day she had to share the spotlight with Rebecca giving birth. You awoke to the sound of commotion outside your room, nurses rushing past and gojo’s panicked voice echoing down the hallway.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

He burst into her room, his face flushed and eyes wild with excitement. "It's happening! Rebecca's in labor!"

Y/N sat up slowly, your heart sinking at the news. Of all days... you managed a weak smile, pushing down the swell of emotion threatening to overwhelm you.

"That's wonderful, gojo. Go be with her. I'm sure she needs you right now."

Feeling the weight of your loneliness press down on you, you got dressed quietly and slipped out of the house unnoticed. You needed space to process everything that was happening, away from prying eyes and judgemental gazes.

Walking aimlessly through the city streets, you found solace in the familiar rhythm of her footsteps and the comforting buzz of the bustling crowd around you. Each step further from home served as a reminder of your freedom - a freedom you cherished despite its bitter sweetness.

"Today should've been about me," you thought bitterly, "but instead, everyone's only talking about Rebecca."

Lost in your thoughts, You found herself at a local café where you ordered a cup of hot chocolate to warm yourself from within. You took a seat by the window overlooking the street below, watching people go about their lives without a care in the world.

Sipping slowly on your drink, you tried to push away feelings of resentment and sadness that threatened to consume you. Instead, you chose to remember happier times with gojo - birthdays spent together laughing until your sides hurt, simple dinners shared under twinkling lights.

"Maybe this is my punishment for not being able to bear children," you pondered silently. "Or maybe it's just part of life's cruel irony."

Next chapter

TAGLIST🤍❄️🫐🩵

@kuro-chi69 @aishies-stuff @kalopsia-flaneur @luns-exlipse @anonnieghost @aqxllo @chatoicboy @sashisuslover @labelt-san

Dont steal

[for-ests]

she looks like the real thing

first angst drabble in a long time kinda nervous. kinda going thru it rn, dont careeee if its accurate. imagine if someone loved you this deeply LOL. requests open for mk.

wc: 800ish

After years of dealing with the pain of your loss, there was another version of you standing in front of him. 

Your beautiful smile and the warmth behind it were things Kuai Liang missed daily. Everything about you drew him in. As it did before and would always, for its entirety.

And finally, he could glimpse you again. 

That would have to be enough. 

"Kuai," you called his name, hesitantly. Now that the battle was over, there was a moment to breathe. But just as soon as you could talk to him, you would have to leave. 

He turned, looking at you over his shoulder. This version of you wore your hair differently, and your outfits were not as colorful, but your beauty remained. Your voice sounded the same, and so were your mannerisms as you approached him. 

This Kuai did not have the same kindness in his eyes as yours did, and you could sense the reason why. Pain, loss, and loneliness were in his movements and expressions, especially when he gazed at you as if you were a ghost. 

In this universe, you were long dead. That was what Liu Kang told you once he recruited you. The thought frightened you, but you provided your aid to prevent further destruction to all timelines. 

"Don't blame yourself," you whispered to him. Of course, he was, that much you knew. "In every universe, I choose you, no matter the outcome." 

Though reassuring, it still stung. He wouldn't be so lucky to live with you like he was meant to. "I miss you every single day," he admitted. "Sometimes it's too much to take." 

"You're a strong man, Kuai Liang. You'll get through it." 

"You were my strength," he whispered, eyes squeezing shut as you reached out and touched his cheek. He leaned into you somewhat desperately. "It's not fair…" 

"I know." Your eyes glossed over as you gazed at him, so lost and broken, still yearning for you, your touch, and the sound of your voice. Even in your untimely death, all he wanted was you. But he would get over it, as he was meant to. Maybe, just maybe, hearing you say it could comfort him.

"Do not deny yourself a different path and a different love," you whispered, almost choking it out. You shouldn't cry, and you know it. But by the elder gods, he was still the man you loved, so similar, yet so different.

"I'll try." Kuai Liang forced a smile.

And finally, the space behind you began to shift, and the temple beneath your feet began to rumble. You stumbled and regained your composure, meeting his eyes for the last time.

Despite it all, he was desperate to glimpse you for as long as he could, until the last moment.

"We were good together, weren't we?" you asked, flashing him a pained smile, feeling the heat intensify behind you, signaling that your time was almost up.

"The best," he replied, wishing he could pull you into his arms and keep you by his side. But he knew himself and how badly that would end.

"I know your Y/N loved you with all her heart," you whispered, just as the light of your universe flashed to life behind you. Yet you stayed in place, watching as tears began to slip from his eyes.

Frowning, you quickly moved to wipe them away, your eyes glossing over as you stared at him. One touch against his cheeks was enough for him.

"Thank you for loving her back,” you whispered.

He didn't have the heart to admit that your shrine didn't go a single day without a fresh bouquet of flowers. In every battle he managed to survive, he would retreat to your grave and just lay there, wishing you could hold him in your arms again. 

Kuai Liang wondered if he would ever get over you. 

What brought him reassurance and a moment of peace was the knowledge that you were alive and well somewhere out there, and in every universe, the two of you would be together. 

If he couldn't protect you in this lifetime, at least he could in another. Something real, something rare. A bond that was written in the stars and could never fade.

A pull that could not be explained through anything else but destiny.

The way you looked at him, refusing to break eye contact even as the portal glimmered behind you, pulling you in a tether back to your Kuai Liang.

Then, your warmth was gone.

"Goodbye, my love," his voice was soft, with a hint of nostalgia. It was a reflection of the past, of the time you shared—moments that were irreplaceable and unforgettable. But he understood your intentions, and a piece of him felt relieved.

There was hope, even if it was just a spark, a flash, a sliver.

Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to move on.

That was what you wanted, wasn't it?

[farfromstrange]

Now that I’m slightly more coherent, I wanted to add some points to the thoughts I posted last night. Warning for heavy spoilers for both episode 1 and 2 of DDBA!

Let’s go!

(That gif makes me feel some type of way. In fact, the whole scene did. Why’s he so fucking hot? Like damn gimme a break Matthew)

I absolutely adore Kirsten! I love her character, I love her dynamic with Matt, and I love how she was ready to indulge Matt’s need for justice in episode 2. Because the Matt we know has a strong sense of justice, and he realized what was happening with Hector/White Tiger and he wanted to help.

Hector’s introduction was also top tier, by the way. I feel like the writers had a lot to say choosing to go down the route of corrupt cops, Hector getting arrested for actually trying to help, the Punisher tattoo on a corrupt cop who Frank would actually tear apart if he knew. And I hope to God he does. Because that’s not what The Punisher stands for!

I love Cherry, too. The whole “can you find this person (who’s impossible to find, by the way) for me?” Is so funny to me because Matt ends up going after the witness himself and basically saving his life because he just can’t let it be. But it also speaks to him as a lawyer because a lot of attorneys have investigators, and he’s trying to do everything by the book to help his clients. And Cherry knows who he used to be, he accepts him, but he also sees that Daredevil will always be a part of Matt and that that might become a problem down the line. Which, let’s face it, it will. We all know he’s gonna pick up the mask again. Anyway. Cherry has already become one of my favorite (new) characters.

I get the argument that it’s a bit odd Matt was able to “move on” so fast, but in my opinion, he didn’t move on. He’s not happy. He “moved on” to survive. He “moved on” because a line was crossed. He was willing to kill Bullseye after hearing Foggy’s heart stop, and his world basically ended right there. His best friend died, and the fact he broke down in front of the guy who did it before tossing him off the roof speaks louder than words. The broken, “Why? Why?” Is what really got me because Matt never got an answer, and that’s probably eating him up inside, too. He doesn’t understand why it had to be Foggy.

When Matt talked to Karen after the hearing his desperation and devastation was so abundantly clear. He was hoping he could talk to her, maybe get her back (as a friend), but Karen is just as broken as him and she needs her space, too. Because they pushed each other away in the face of this tragedy. Matt was probably consumed by guilt (still is), struggling with the rage he felt, what he was willing to do and the pain he’s harboring inside. He doesn’t know how to deal with this kind of grief. He lost his father, yes, but this a different kind of grief. And everyone handles it differently. Charlie’s performance made me believe that moving on, putting down the mask pushing away those Bad Thoughts for as long as he can is how Matt copes with this kind of loss.

Matt carries Foggy’s memorial card over his heart, even when going on a date. He keeps it on his kitchen counter. He lives in a more… lifeless apartment now, I’d say. He moved out of Hell’s Kitchen, which is a completely new side of his character, and the fact he looks so miserable when he’s alone, using music to tune out the noise of the city, drowning himself in work, trying to be normal and obsessing over the news with Fisk just shows the way he grieves his best friend. I don’t doubt that deep down, he’s still in denial. And when he threw hands with those corrupt cops and got a taste of what it’s like to fight again? That scream at the end just shows that he is not okay. He’s doing a pretty good job at lying to himself, especially with Heather and trying to move on, but we all know it’s going to explode in his face eventually.

Karen being in San Francisco shows how she’s grieving, too, and the fact she isn’t there and their relationship ended all adds to the mountain of shit that will most probably kick Matt’s ass this season. Nelson, Murdock & Page was the dream, he just got that back, and now he’s lost everything. Karen lost everything.

Moving on. The first fight scene, the one with Dex, seemed a little too CGI to me, at first. But I realize now that I don’t really mind because one, the sequence in ep. 2 was much better and two, I had to remind myself that Born Again was never going to be a carbon copy of the Netflix show, and for this being the MCU, it could’ve been much worse. Could they have done it better? Sure. But I, personally, am not disappointed. I understand why some might say it wasn’t good, but the fight scene in episode 2 made up for it! That was amazing.

I also hope they slow the pace a little over the next few episodes and don’t rush through the storylines because I feel we need to really sit with what Matt’s going through and let him sit with it, too. I want to see more of what he’s feeling, but I have a good feeling that we will, especially considering the promo clip with Frank. So, I have high hopes.

I love Heather too! I’m a bit scared for her, to be honest, because she’s getting involved with Fisk (and Vanessa), and I’m curious about the young man who asked her for help. She doesn’t know about Matt’s alter ego and they’re pursuing a romantic relationship, so that’s bound to end in chaos. We know what happened the last time he chose to not tell the people he cared about. I think she’s gonna get caught in the crossfire, and I think that might push Matt over the edge since he’s already only holding on by a very thin fucking thread.

I don’t think I will ever get over seeing Matt sob. Charlie did such an incredible job portraying Matt’s emotion at the beginning of ep. 1, and I just know he’s gonna break my heart the next time he cries. We saw him cry in Season 3, I know, but this? This is next level. This was a kind of pain that he did not expect to feel, that overwhelmed him, and in turn, I think we all felt it. The way he just sat there, impaled and broken, crying his little (big) heart out, totally defeated, no longer hearing Foggy’s heartbeat, probably hearing Karen sob, the mask falling, and he just gave up. He gave up right then and there, and for those of us who watched the original show and know the hope he had after the end of Season 3 that’s like shattering everything he worked for within the matter of fifteen minutes. He thought there was finally some resemblance of light at the end of the tunnel and then bam! All gone.

I also want to mention the way he reacted when Dex was sentenced to consecutive life sentence. The way he was cheering silently to the point he was shaking. And I want to again give an honorary mention to the conversation between Matt and Karen because that was so very well down, and so very well acted by both Charlie and Deborah.

On a more unserious note: that man is HOT! Seriously. The beard? His hands? HIS ARMS? Those feral eyes when he was fighting those cops? The broken glasses? That scream? His casual clothes at home and him just sitting there? That doesn’t sound like something that should turn me on, but it did. It does. I just wanted to sit on his lap and ride his—okay, I need to breathe. Charlie Cox, the man you are. Holy shit.

Overall, we all have our opinions, but I’m definitely immersed and I still love these characters and the original show, and I love what they’ve done with the new show. It is definitely MCU, we can’t deny that, but I think they redeemed themselves after making some questionable choices with projects post-Endgame. I am sat! I would be sat no matter what because seeing Matt again just makes me feel so much joy.

The decision to kill Foggy (or at least make everyone believe he’s dead), however, will not be recognized as canon by me unless I want to write some angsty as fuck fic set in DDBA times. Outside of that, I stand behind what Nick Fury said.

That’s all. I love seeing the entire fandom come together and freak out about this. It’s been a long time coming! Can’t wait for next week’s episode.

[impactedfates]

hello! jing yuan meeting his kid he had from a previous relationship?

so jing yuan had a previous lover, he didnt visit her until he learned that she was in a bad situation/ struggling with poverty

so he goes to visit and sees a kid that looked like him that he never knew of, they were neglected by their mother while he was gone all these years

reader is the kid, thankss

★ A/N: I decided to mash these 2 into one as I feel like the reader would've gotten trust issues if their mother neglected them, not to mention what if the mother lied to their kid painting JY (their father) as a bad guy :0 Anyways, I hope the anons don't mind I merged the requests into one

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial + Hurt/Comfort?

★ Format: Bullet Pointed Scenarios

☆ Warnings: Readers mother is neglectful/a toxic mother (+ alcoholic)

★ Extra: Reader is young (11-12) // Jing Yuan trying his best to heal whatever his ex partner did // Also 2 posts in one day haha, had a bunch of free time during the storm

I feel like for Jing Yuan to not visit his past lover nor have her contacts, she'd have to already be a bad partner. What I mean is, Jing Yuan seems like the type to even after a break up, not want it to affect his relationship with the other person UNLESS said other person was toxic. If that makes sense???

But anyways, I don't know if that mattered. Let's assume that a friend of said ex partner went to Jing Yuan for help. Explaining her situation in hopes Jing Yuan would be willing to help.

He is, much to the delight of the friend. However he underestimated just how bad the situation is, as when he went to check. The house is in shambles.

Dirty dishes building up in the sink, trash on the ground it's hard to move around in, there's a kid and aeons it smells like such dog sh-

Wait a kid!?

Jing Yuan stares at you, you stare at him. It's just...silence. Despite everything and how long it may be. He knows that you're his kid. And after getting over the initial shock. He gently calls you over, but you refuse. Shaking your head and even creating a bigger distance.

He lets out a small sigh, unsure on what to do but just decides to look for your mother again. Telling you to please stay put, and once he does find the mother. Passed out on the couch with alcohol bottles around, he gets an even better view on what you seem to have went through.

Things have been dealt with, the mother is gone and in jail for child negligence which leaves you with your biological father who is more than happy to look after you.

At the same time though, your mother had both neglected your needs. Giving just the bare minimum to keep you alive and had fed you lies. The man in front of you may be your father but you can't help but believe the harsh words your mother told you.

But to your surprise, he's nothing like how she described. He's...gentle...patient...and never raises his voice at you. Even when you make a mistake and start tearing up ready to apologise, he's already brushing it off. Saying it's fine, not to worry.

Jing Yuan isn't bothered by your behaviour at all. He understands and knows. He takes a few days off work, to just ensure you're all better. You get new clothes, a big meal prepared for you and a new room. It's such a...new feeling.

Jing Yuan doesn't force you to do anything, doesn't force you to hug him or be near him. All he asks is that you stay safe in the house. He doesn't outright ask for you to trust him just because he's your father, he gains your trust. No matter how long it'll take for you to be comfortable around him.

Even when he needs to go back to work, he asks you if you're more comfortable to come with him to work and he can set up a place where you can relax and do whatever you wish. Or if you'd rather be at home. If you choose to just stay at home, he'll order some guards to ensure your safety and if Yanqing has gained your trust in this time. He'll ask the young boy to be your babysitter even if your age difference isn't that large.

Overall, Jing Yuan is definitely surprised to find out he has a child but that surprise turns into unhappiness when he finds out how you've been treated. He ensures your mother gets put in jail for her negligence then takes you in. He doesn't force you at all to trust him, he slowly earns it and whether or not you do end up trusting him eventually. He doesn't mind either outcome.

Because in the end, he doesn't care if you actually trust him or not. What he cares about is if you're healthy and happy. That's his main priority at this moment and time.

If/When you are finally ready, he's there with open arms. Happy to have you see him as a father figure and happy he can heal whatever damage his ex partner ever did to you.

He's happy because you're happy.

I started basing this slightly off a book I read for school as I thought it fitted haha. I'm unsure what to think of this but hopefully it's okay...

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Seventeen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing too warning worthy, just some really creepy vibes at the end. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.5k

A/N : happy fic-friday!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Seventeen

You sat in silence, too paralysed by fear to think rationally. There were things you knew you should be doing, like looking out of the window and trying to figure out where you were and, perhaps more importantly, where you were going. But, really, what did it matter? You’d always known that it would come down to this, that you’d end up his prisoner and, now, you knew for certain that no one was going to save you.

Your eyes drifted to the rear window, not looking at him, not even acknowledging his existence. 

The streets of New York all looked the same at night; all bright lights and crowds of people. The only thing you could tell was that you didn’t seem to be leaving the city. Somehow that made things worse, knowing that you were still so close to Billy but you might as well have been a million miles away. 

And, suddenly, despite your situation, Billy was all you could think about. He was probably at Josie’s by now, he’d probably realised that you were gone and that he’d never see you again. He was probably so angry.

“You’ll soon get tired of giving me the silent treatment,” he stated with a confidence that made you sick to your stomach, “but I’m not going to rush you. I have patience and we have the rest of forever.”

Forcing a breath, you tried everything you could to keep a blank face and not give into the scared helplessness that was filling you. Your gaze remained focused on the window and the streets you’d been so excited to explore only a few weeks ago. 

A sense of claustrophobia took hold the moment the limo turned into an underground parking structure, darkness filling the car and making you feel more trapped than ever. Then the car stopped.

You didn’t move, didn’t even tear your eyes away from the window.

Until he reached for you.

His cold hand on yours caused you to flinch and pull away, only to find fingers tightly gripping your good wrist.

“You’re going to behave for me,” he told you, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“Or what?”

You weren’t sure what came over you in that moment but you were just as surprised by your sudden snap as he was.

“Do I have to remind you what will happen to your family?” He asked, leaning closer, gripping tighter. “Or maybe I should remind you what I’m capable of...”

“You don’t scare me anymore, Mr Drake,” you answered back, his name spat from your mouth like venom despite knowing you were only making things worse. 

“Please, you should call me Justin since you’re going to be my wife,” he offered with a smile that made you feel ill. “And you should be scared of what could happen if you try to refuse me again.”

“Am I supposed to care what happens to my parents after they sold me to you?”

You didn’t expect the laugh that followed, a sound that caused the dread in your stomach to continue to build.

“And what about Irene? You still care about her, right?”

The sound of your sister’s name on his lips was almost enough to cause your heart to stop. It was a lie, it had to be. She’d been gone for years, no one knew where she was or how to find her.

“You’re lying.” You decided to call his bluff.

He let go of your arm to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. A moment later you felt bile rise in the back of your throat at the picture he showed you. It had been years since you’d seen her, but there was no mistaking that it was your older sister. The sickening feeling only continued to increase as he started to swipe through pictures; pictures of a family, of two young children and a telltale bump on her belly.

“If you’d prefer I could take what’s owed me from her instead, along with your nephews and your unborn niece.” He put the phone away, no longer needing it to threaten you. He’d made his point.

“You’re a monster.”

He laughed again.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea.” He leaned to open the door and then gave a wave of his hand, indicating that he wanted you to move. “It’s up to you whether we do this the easy way or the hard way.”

For a few seconds you remained completely still, defiant.

Then you moved.

What choice did you have? You knew he could bend you to his will if he wanted to, you knew he could hurt you and those closest to you. More than that, you knew that you were completely alone. No one was going to look for you. No one was coming to your rescue.

“Good choice,” you heard him mutter as he followed you out of the limo.

You bristled at the touch of his hand against your lower back, guiding you towards the elevator but you moved regardless, knowing better than to think you could outrun a vampire in the gloomy parking lot.

The elevator doors slid shut, trapping you with him and his driver, watching as he swiped a key card for the penthouse floor. Your heart lurched along with the elevator and, despite wanting to remain steely and unphased by the situation, you found yourself pulling your arms across your chest.

It was only then that you realised your suitcase was nowhere to be seen. Try as you might, you couldn’t remember what had happened to it. It had been with you when you left Josie’s but then you’d walked into Krista and -

And after that, everything was hazy.

“Where are my things?” You asked. “I had a suitcase.”

“Gone. You don’t need it,” he answered.

Your chest tightened, squeezing out a breath. Your eyes fixed forward, unblinking, not wanting to show him how upset you were. You weren’t bothered about your things, about your purse or phone, but your heart was breaking over the stuffed beagle that meant so much to you, the last little piece of Billy that you had.

“I want it,” you demanded defiantly. 

“Why?” He asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Because it’s mine. If you want me to stay here and not cause problems, then you need to find it.” You glared at him as he spoke, as if there was really anything you could do to hurt him. 

He seemed disinterested but shrugged before giving his driver a glance. The man nodded, understanding his orders without a word even passing between them. Though, by now, you knew it was probably too late. You’d probably never see Bill the Beagle again.

As he led you into the penthouse suite, his driver disappeared back into the elevator, but you weren’t so naive as to think that you were alone with him. He’d have his goons somewhere near, in case he needed them. If you wanted to even think about trying to get away from him again, you were going to have to bide your time.

Your stomach dropped when you were led into a bedroom. You lingered in the doorway, leaving as much space between you and him as you could and, of course, he noticed.

“There’s no need to be shy,” he told you, barely holding back a smirk.

“I’m not being shy,” you answered back. 

His gaze darkened.

“I can’t say that I like this new attitude you seem to have developed. I can see now why William Russo had to resort to physical means to keep you in line,” he stated, gesturing at your broken arm.

“You don’t know anything about Billy,” you snapped through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Billy is it?” He asked, looking at you like he could look right through you, like he could tell every little thought in your head, and he didn’t like what he saw. “Got close to him, did you?”

You felt your cheeks start to burn while your hands clenched to fists at your side, and he noticed it all.

“More than that?” He asked, though he didn’t need to hear an answer. “You’re lucky I’m not a jealous man, otherwise I might have taken it out on poor dear Billy. But, then, why should I be jealous of a vampire who likes to play with his food?” 

“You know nothing about it or him.”

“Oh, I know plenty,” he answered back. “Enough to know that he’ll have a new girl in his employ, bleeding for him by the end of the week and probably in his bed just as quick, just like he replaced your friend Krista...”

You shook your head, insolent, even though some part of you wondered if he was right. Perhaps Lissa had already put out an advertisement for your replacement.

But you weren’t given time to linger on the thought. He closed the distance between you, his cold fingers grasping your chin, turning your head one way and then the other as he inspected your neck.

“Did he bite you?” He asked and you stayed silent, so he resorted to threats. “Do I have to strip you and check for myself?”

The threat was enough to break you. “No. He didn’t bite me.”

“Good. Now get changed out of those clothes, so we can have supper and discuss our future together.” A wave of his hand led your gaze to an outfit that had been set out for you on the bed.

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

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Billy asked as if he thought Karen might have some magic answer to explain everything that was going on.

She’d explained about Madani, about the questions the Homeland agent had about Billy, as well as the warning that she’d offered outside the hospital. But she only knew what you had shared with her and the little that Madani had been willing to say, and it wasn’t a lot. 

And it certainly wasn’t enough for Billy.

“I don’t know, I guess because she didn’t believe it, she didn’t think it was worth worrying you with it,” Karen offered, lifting her glass and taking a slow drink.

Billy and Frank had asked around, hoping someone had seen you while Karen called Madani, but the most they got was from a drunk who thought you might have gotten into a limousine with friends. By the time they sat to wait for the Homeland agent, Billy was crawling out of his skin.

“And you’re sure she didn’t believe it?” He asked, again trying to get an answer that he knew Karen couldn’t possibly know.

“Well, she saw Krista, didn’t she?” Frank offered. “Hard to think you killed someone who’s still walkin’ around.”

“But, what if -” he started and stopped as Karen dared to reach across the table, placing a hand on his arm.

“Billy, she didn’t leave because she thought you’d done something wrong,” she offered.

“No, she left because I’m like... this...”

Frank bristled at his side but didn’t say anything, though Karen could tell just how much effort it took for him to bite his tongue. She’d seen them have that argument before, and she’d been the one left to console Frank afterwards.

“We’ll find her, Billy,” Karen tried again, pulling back her hand.

“I just -” he started but stopped the moment he noticed a woman in a suit approaching them, eyeing him with very obvious suspicion.

Karen’s eyes followed Billy’s, and she quickly stood up.

“Agent Madani.”

“Ms Page,” she greeted Karen before uncomfortably eyeing Billy and Frank.

“Something’s happened and we need your help,” Karen tried to explain, waving a hand, trying to get Madani to sit. 

Between the three of them, they explained what had happened as far as they knew, up to the point where they found your suitcase on the sidewalk. An uncomfortable silence fell while Madani took it all in.

“How can you be sure she didn’t just abandon it?” Madani asked, glancing at the case.

“She wouldn’t do that,” Billy answered, his hand resting on the stuffed beagle. “Why would she leave her phone and purse?”

Madani looked at him for a few moments, saying nothing.

“And how do I know that any of this is true?” She finally asked. “How do I know that this isn’t some elaborate ruse? How do I know she isn’t dead somewhere and all of this is to stop me from asking questions later on?”

“I didn’t kill her. I haven’t killed anyone. I -” Billy started to snap.

“Bill,” Frank warned, silencing him.

“You’ve got a badge, right?” Karen asked. “The store across the street has got a security camera pointed at the street, you can take a look at the last hour and see if we’re telling the truth or not.”

Frank struggled to fight back a grin, nudging Karen with his elbow, impressed with her. Madani on the other hand, seemed a little less enthusiastic. 

“It’s not that simple, I’d need a warrant, and -”

“We don’t have time -” Karen started.

“Fuck this,” Billy muttered, getting to his feet.

Frank followed suit. “What’re you doin’, Bill?” 

“I’m going to get the security footage myself,” he answered.

“Hey, if you think I’m going to sit back while you commit a crime -” Madani was on her feet a second later.

“The more time we waste, the harder it’s going to be to find her,” Billy snapped. “And I’m not going to lose her. You can either help or you can stay out of my way, but I’m warning you, Agent Madani, I’m not someone you want as an enemy.”

Without another word, he started towards the door, Madani and Frank following after while Karen opted to hang back with your suitcase.

Billy made his way across the street, not caring if he was followed; he was determined to find out what happened, with or without help. With the way he was feeling, he’d tear the store owner apart if he even tried to get in his way. And Frank seemed to realise that. It was why he didn’t let Billy get more than a few feet ahead of him.

And Madani followed because she was almost hoping that he’d do something to prove her right about him.

“How we doin’ this then?” Frank asked just outside the little corner store, stopping Billy in his tracks. 

“That’s up to Agent Madani,” Billy answered, glaring at the Homeland agent.

For a few seconds she looked at the two vampires, hating that she was being put on the spot but realising that there was nothing that she could do to stop them from looking at the footage one way or another.

“Fine, wait here,” she answered, as she moved to step past Billy.

“What? If you think I’m -” Billy was silenced by Frank’s hand on his shoulder.

Madani waited for a beat before entering the store alone.

The bell over the door chimed, signalling her arrival to the young guy behind the counter who looked up from his phone for a split-second before dropping his gaze again. Madani strode towards the counter, reaching into her jacket for her badge and ID. For a few seconds she didn’t say anything, instead she listened to the faint sounds coming from the assistant's phone.

‘If vampire’s keep taking all the wealth and making it so honest, hard working humans can’t find a decent job that pays a decent wage -”

She cleared her throat, having heard all she needed to. Anti-vampire sentiment was still widespread and there were plenty of online commentators willing to try to make a quick buck from it, and in this situation, it was something she could use to her advantage.

“Agent Madani, Homeland Security,” she stated. The kid looked ready to shit himself at the sight of her badge. “I’m going to need to see the CCTV footage from the front of the store for the last couple of hours.”

“I -” for a moment he struggled to find the words, “- I think I’d need to ask my boss.”

“Is he here right now?”

“No, he lives in Jersey...”

Madani let out a sigh, letting the kid see her frustration.

“Listen, I’ll level with you, I’m tracking a dangerous vampire,” she told him and saw a flicker of anger on his face. “I think they’ve hurt a lot of people, a lot of young women about your age...”

“Fucking bloodsuckers,” he muttered.

“If I could see that footage, I might be able to catch him and, if I do...” she shrugged, “well, there’d be nothing to stop you from posting the whole thing online. I hear you can make a lot of money with stuff like this.”

Madani could practically see dollar signs lighting up behind his eyes. At any other time it might have bothered her just how easily influenced the kid was, but time was of the essence and she needed to know if Russo was lying to her. 

“Yeah, okay,” the kid relented, “it’s in the back here.” 

He gave a quick glance around the store, making sure it was still empty before showing her into the backroom. The set up was hardly state of the art, but it was easy enough to use - in fact, she’d used several similar systems in the past, so it didn’t take her long to scrub through the video and find the exact moment that you left Josie’s. The picture quality wasn’t brilliant and the poor lighting on the street didn’t help, but you were easy enough to spot with your suitcase.

Madani watched as someone deliberately stepped into your path before taking you by the arm and leading you towards a waiting limousine. She managed to get half of the licence plate of the limo and snapped a quick photo of the blurry figure with her phone while the kid’s back was turned, then she stood.

“Is it on there?” He asked.

“No,” she answered, forcing another sigh, “looks like the bastard managed to slip by just out of range of the camera.”

His disappointment was palpable.

“But that isn’t to say that he won’t come back,” Madani offered, “so it’d be best if you didn’t mention this to anyone, otherwise you might spook him and... well, I wouldn’t want to see you charged with obstruction after you’ve been so helpful.” 

He nodded and she didn’t waste any time in making her excuses to get out of there.

Billy was pacing by the time she stepped back outside, both men seemed to be engaged in a heated debate about something, and it looked as though Russo was on the losing end of it.

“All I’m sayin’ is -”

“What did you find out?” Billy asked, ignoring Frank and quickly refocusing all of his attention on Madani.

“I’m not sure,” Madani stated, pulling out her phone, “she left the bar and someone met her outside before leading her to a limousine. There wasn’t a struggle but... something didn’t seem right...”

“You think someone was compellin’ her?” Frank asked.

“Maybe. I can’t be sure. I got a partial plate and I’m going to call in some favours to run it, see if I can figure out who owns the limo and where it went,” Madani explained before holding up her phone to the men, showing the blurry image she’d captured. “But, while we wait, we should try to figure out who this is.”

“Fuck,” Billy grit out almost instantly.

“Goddamnit,” Frank let out a second later.

“Well, that was quicker than expected. Care to fill me in?” Madani asked.

“I knew I should’ve killed her,” Billy muttered, forcing an uneven breath, struggling to stay in control of himself.

“It’s Krista Dumont, alive and well, and still pissin’ everyone off,” Frank answered, though his gaze stayed on Billy. “You went lookin’ for her, right, Bill? Know where she might be now?”

“Yeah, I know where she lives,” Billy answered, his attention quickly turning to Madani. “You wanted to know what happened to my previous employees, right? Well, you’re about to find out.”

Without another word, he started moving back towards where he’d left his car. Frank and Madani quickly followed after, the latter on her phone calling in those favours to try and track down the limo.

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

You were finally left alone to change, though you spent at least five minutes searching the room, looking for anything that might help you escape. As much as you’d felt resigned to this eventuality, just being around him again had panic and dread gnawing at your insides. You had to get away.

The first thing you did was check the windows, despite already knowing that you were too high up to even consider it an option. In fact, the penthouse suite was so high up that the people on the street below seemed like ants.

Next thing you checked was the room’s phone by lifting it to your ear. No dial tone. No cord connecting it to the wall. If you could get a cord from one of the other phones in the suite, you might be able to call for help. You filled away the thought for later. 

Then you checked the drawers and the wardrobe, feeling sick to your stomach when you found several outfits that were obviously for you. They looked like the sort of clothes your mother would have picked for you and not at all like the outfits you’d enjoyed wearing over the last six months. Even the dress he’d laid out on the bed for you felt uncomfortably conservative - though you supposed you should be glad he wanted you to dress that way.

Shaking your head you tried to force the thought away and concentrate on finding things that might be helpful. 

Wooden hangers could perhaps be turned into weapons but... well, that was a line you didn’t want to think about crossing until you really had to.

“Dinner is here,” you heard his voice from behind the door. “Unless you want me to come in there and dress you myself, I suggest you hurry up.” 

As much as you wanted to be stubborn, as much as you wanted to cause him as much trouble as possible, the sorry fact of the matter was that you were scared. And you had every reason to be scared. So, you gave up your search and quickly changed into the clothes that he had left for you and stepped out into the suite.

The main room was lit by lamps, creating a romantic glow that made you feel sick.

Instead of looking at him and the table, you glanced around the room, taking note of where the phone was and how close the door was. But your host seemed to realise what you were doing.

“Sit,” he ordered, pulling out a chair at the table.

You made a point of walking around him and taking a different seat.

“You’re starting to test my patience,” he remarked, taking his own seat. 

“Already?” You remarked off-handedly, reminding him of the comment he’d made not two hours ago in the limo.

“Did Billy Russo let you talk back like this?”

“He never gave me a reason to,” you answered without hesitation, despite knowing it wasn’t strictly true.

He gave a grunt of irritation before uncovering your food. You looked down at the plate, your lips curling at the sight; tuna steak and salad. While he started to eat, you simply stared down at the plate. Even though you knew you’d never see him again, let alone bleed for him, the thought of eating anything from his list of prohibited foods. It took Justin Drake  a minute to realise that you weren’t eating, and then came the frustrated sigh.

“Are you going to fight me on everything?” He asked.

“I don’t eat tuna.”

“Since when?”

“Since I decided I don’t like it.”

“Then eat the salad,” he snapped.

You took small consolation in the fact that you were already getting to him, showing him that you were going to be far more trouble than you were worth but, again, you knew better than to push too far too soon. He could hurt you. He would hurt you if he felt like it. 

Reluctantly, you began to pick at the salad with your fork, silently wondering if you’d be able to sneak any of the cutlery away from the table.

You ate in silence, neither speaking until you were both done. He’d poured you a glass of wine, but it had been left mostly untouched and, thankfully, he hadn’t thought to order dessert.

“Tomorrow we’ll be travelling home,” he informed you. “The wedding is being arranged as we speak and, by this time next week, you’ll be my wife, so you should rid yourself of any childish notions of escaping or denying me.”

“I won’t marry you.”

“Yes you will.”

“Why? Why any of this? Why me?” You asked, anger quickly starting to bubble over. “I’ll never stop fighting you, I’ll never be yours. How is any of this worth it to you?”

He just laughed at that, sitting back in his chair and lifting his wine glass to his lips, taking a slow drink before even thinking to answer you.

“Because it’s fate.”

“What?” Had you heard him correctly? Had he called it fate?

“It was never about the money - that was just to keep your parents in line - it’s always been about you, my sweet girl.” He continued to smile as your skin started to crawl. “I knew I had to have you the first time I set eyes on you.”

Your stomach continued to churn and tie itself in knots as you thought how long ago that must have been.

“Why?” You dared to ask even though you were terrified of how he might answer.

“You look just like your great-great-great-grandmother.” He paused as if he was expecting you to say something but the shock had rendered you silent. “She was like you, she refused me what should have been mine, and she paid the price.”

It felt like your blood had turned to ice in your veins, not sure exactly what he was telling you, but not wanting to ask for clarification either. You remained silent, wondering how long he’d been tormenting your family like this and if you were the first to find yourself in this situation with him. 

“I always regretted it, once she was gone I mean. I should have handled things differently, but I was young back then, barely past my first century...” he sounded almost wistful, like he was recounting a fond memory. “But then I found you. And I won’t make the same mistake twice. You will bend to my will. You will be my wife in every sense of the word and, when you’ve finally accepted your place at my side, I will give you the greatest gift imaginable.”

You didn’t have to ask to know what he was implying.

“No,” your head shook. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“My sweet girl, what makes you think you have a choice?”

End Note : ... I'm not even sorry about ending it like that, I'm having too much fun getting things ready for the final confrontation. I think that there's probably only two more chapters left of this one now (depending on how carried away I get with the next part), so I hope you all enjoy what I've got planned. Also I'm sorry I picked that name for the bad guy...

As ever, thank you so much for reading/liking/reblogging/screaming at me in the comments! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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