#but knowing how it ends it feels like there were warning signs early on

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 4

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of blood, violence, killing, angst, i hate the pacing of this but i rewrote it like three times and then gave up

series masterlist │my masterlist

after sharing your first kiss, logan becomes much more clingy. he’s attached to you at nearly all times. if you’d thought he was affectionate before, you had no idea what you were getting into. his favourite thing is to press his face into your neck, licking and biting the skin there, but it’s not just your neck. you’ve become a chew toy for a 400 pound man.

he’s never too harsh with it, always gentle with you. he knows you’re not as strong as him. it’s affectionate nibbling, like dogs biting their owners, and you love it because it’s such a clear sign of logan’s happiness.

it reminds you of the early days with logan, where he couldn’t stand to be in a different room as you, though now it’s no longer out of fear but out of a deep desire for closeness and companionship.

and things are good for a while, like that. you enjoy the ease of your unlabeled relationship. he’s yours and you’re his, in every capacity. there’s no need to put an arbitrary, man-made label on your relationship when most of it is quiet, unspoken. you’ve never really had a conversation about what you are, but it’s obvious.

you had thought yourself happy before meeting logan, at peace with the life you’d made for yourself, self-sufficient and doing all the things you loved. you weren’t slaving away at a corporate job, making hardly enough money to support your hobbies, leaving you with hardly any time to enjoy them anyway. it was good.

this is a different kind of happiness, one you’d thought was only real in fairytales. you feel as though he has some sort of six-sense telling him how you’re feeling, when you’re tense or unhappy. he makes you feel like a princess.

but all good things must come to an end. 

he starts to have more nightmares, takes to sleeping in the guest room because he doesn’t want to keep you awake all night with him. more often than not you’ll hear him shouting in his sleep, deep grunts of pain that have you rising from your bed and joining him, hoping your presence will soothe him.

and you like to think that it does. you never get too close to him when he’s tossing and turning restlessly, claws out, metal gleaming in the low moonlight streaming from the gap in the curtains, but you know that logan’s senses are enhanced, heightened, and so you hope that he can feel your presence even while stuck in a nightmare, that you can drag him out of it. eventually he always either settles or wakes up, though both are better alternatives than watching him struggle against an invisible enemy.

you’ve had a few more close calls, where his claws get a little too close, where you let your guard down and lean closer towards him even though you know better, because your heart aches for him.

he becomes more human by the day. he doesn’t tell you when his memories start to come back to him, but you can tell.

you can tell when you get home to find him on the couch with a bottle of whiskey that he must have gotten from the cellar, the one you’d never shown him how to find. it belonged to your grandfather, so you’d gotten it along with the house, but you don’t drink very often and so you haven’t made much use of it.

he takes large swigs of the half-empty bottle, the smell of whiskey on his breath and the taste of booze on his tongue when you go to kiss him. 

you can tell when he becomes less expressive with you, no longer sharing his emotions on his face or with his behaviour as easily as before. he doesn’t bound up to you and sniff you to check where you’ve been, to check if anyone’s gotten too close, their scent clinging onto your clothes. he doesn’t growl when he’s upset or annoyed, just grits his teeth and clenches his jaw tight.

you can tell by the way he holds back his little noises when you pull his head into your lap, scratching at his scalp and tugging on the longer tufts of his hair that you’d jokingly started to refer to as kitty ears. you miss the soft purring, the knowledge that logan was happy and comfortable with you.

sometimes you’ll plan out conversations in your head, acting out how you’ll talk to him and the words you’ll use and how he might reply. but when you try to ask him if he’s alright, placing a hand on his trembling one, sitting down in his lap so he can’t escape, he always shrugs it off. he tells you you’re sweet for worrying about him and kisses you until you no longer remember what you wanted to say.

there’s something happening in his mind that he’s not telling you about, but you chalk up all his odd behaviours to him needing time to deal with remembering his old life.

if his constant nightmares tell you anything, it’s that the memories returning to him aren’t positive ones. there’s a pain in him that wasn’t there before, a darkness that lingers behind his eyes, haunted by things he’s seen. you can’t imagine anyone would deal very well with the onslaught of traumas returning with a vengeance.

he doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop hugging you from behind, doesn’t stop surprising you by sneaking up behind you and picking you up out of nowhere, making you shriek and giggle. so you tell yourself you’re being dramatic, it’ll resolve itself in time.

it doesn’t.

he goes out to run through the forest, to hunt as the natural predator he was always meant to be, but when he comes back he won’t speak to you. he shrugs you off, locking the door to the bathroom so you can’t meet him in there.

it’s a small thing, but it’s a crack in the routines you and logan have been building together, the wordless nature of your relationship crumbling around you because all of a sudden it no longer feels like the two of you are on the same wavelength.

you cry silently on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like your world is collapsing. the perfect bubble that had settled around you and logan had popped, and now reality was coming in to destroy the fantasy you’d grown accustomed to. you should have seen it coming - in fact, you had, with every night he spent in a bottle instead of on your lips, but you’d chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t seem to be as in-tune with your emotions anymore, and you wonder if it’s because he simply doesn’t care enough to try.

the through wrenches you in two.

you had given logan your heart, placed it in his rough, calloused hands and asked him to hold it for you. and now you could feel that very same hand, once so gentle and careful, squeezing tighter and tighter, a physical ache.

you need time away from him, away from the house where every corner has memories attached. so you journey into town.

you’re out for a while, walking aimlessly. the streets grow dark, the sun setting in hues of orange and pink behind the horizon, streetlamps turning on to replace the sunlight, though their dim glow is hardly an effective replacement. and still, you don’t return home, not quite ready to face logan.

it’s as you’re preparing to head back, muttering reassuring words to yourself under your breath, that someone grabs you from behind, a hand against your mouth so you can’t scream. you’re shoved into an alley, thin and dingy between two shops that have already closed for the night, their employees gone home to rest, no one around to hear your struggles.

you scream, though the sound is muffled, and cry and kick at your assailant, but he won’t let go. he’s stronger than you.

you think about logan, who doesn’t know where you are, who probably walked out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, stray droplets of water tracing down the grooves of his abs. you think about how on any other day you would have kissed down his chest to catch the water on your lips, not yet venturing below his waist, though you’ve done other things.

you hope you don’t die tonight. there’s still so much you haven’t done, so much you haven’t said.

and then the body holding yours is gone and you fall to the ground, knees scraping the pavement on your way down. you cry and cry, fear and anger and relief all washing together into a mess you can’t name. you barely notice the sounds of your assailant begging for mercy, or the low growl from your saviour. but you can smell the blood in the air, the tang of iron.

“what the fuck were you thinking?” strong arms lift you up and instinctively you squirm to try to get away, until a hand grabs your chin and forces your gaze upwards. logan’s furious glare stares back at you, his eyes narrowed and jaw tense.

“i- i’m sorry,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out, and you collapse against him. because even if he’s covered in blood and his claws are still out and he’s just murdered a man, even if he’s clearly angry and dangerous, you’ve never felt safer.

he’s quiet the whole way home. he doesn’t speak to you as he carries you inside the house, refusing to let you walk on your own, doesn’t speak to you as he cleans the cuts on your knees, doesn’t speak to you as he settles you down on the couch with a soft blanket fresh out of the dryer, doesn’t speak to you as he makes your tea the exact way you like it.

and then, “wanna tell me what you were doing out there? you know it’s unsafe for a pretty girl like you after dark, you don’t need me telling you that.”

“i just needed some air,” you argue, though there’s not much heat behind the words, staring down at your steaming mug of tea, watching the unmoving liquid as if it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. logan scoffs, and you can see him in your peripheral vision, looking so unlike the man you thought you knew.

“there’s plenty of air here, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“you know what i mean,” you sigh, and he stares at you with his hands on his hips until you roll your eyes and continue, “i needed to be away from you! is that what you want to hear? you’re different lately and it scares me because everything was so great for some time and now you’re…”

“different?” he laughs sharply, “yeah, i’ve got my memories back. i remember every awful fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, every time i’ve been tortured. you know how many times i’ve been tortured? you think i’d act the same after that?”

“it’s not that,” you argue, placing your mug down on the coffee table, “we don’t sleep in the same bed anymore! you refuse to let me see you when you come home after hunting! you don’t cuddle up to me like you did before! you used to kiss my neck all the time and now you don’t! you’re just… pulling away. and i know i’m being selfish, fuck do i know it. but every time i’ve tried to have a conversation with you about this you shut it down so what was i supposed to do, logan?”

“you wanna have a conversation?” he shouts, “fine, talk.”

your breath is coming out in ragged pants. there’s a fire in your veins, a fury you haven’t felt in a very long time, it’s intensity paralysing you. you watch logan’s face, the way he stands before you, his imposing figure stretched above yours.

and there’s nothing you can say. the words you’ve been preparing every night before bed for days and days flutter away in a breeze. all you can do is watch his chest rising and falling.

“i wish you would talk to me,” is the only thing you manage to choke out.

“you’re not getting that version of me back,” he says, voice finally softening into something resembling his usual gruff but not unkind tone, “i remember who i am now. so you gotta let go of this shit, or you gotta let go of me.”

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[keyaho]

.summary. it was the start of the new school year. terry & blaire begin the steps of reconnecting as aaron and Brennan focus on branching out. a new family arrives to MPA.

.chapter warnings. themes of sex, slightly vulgar language :: Blaire pov | Brennan pov

co-writer: @zillasvilla

Noah was in bed by eight-thirty. Again, he requested his Dad’s attention and she sat on her bed slightly miffed about it. Prior to her shower, Terry had brought Noah in to say goodnight. She ran her hands over her son’s new cut again. Just a bit longer than his father’s cut but with those infamous little lines cut in. She had thought Noah wanted to sleep in her bed again, but one look from his Dad and he was telling her that he was a big boy and needed to sleep in his bed. Blaire shot a look at Terry then smiled at her son. After a kiss on the forehead, cheek, and a tight hug Noah was bouncing back towards his room. 

Now she was waiting for Terry, again, after her shower. They hadn’t shared a bed since last year and as large as the bed was he made it feel small.  She had some last minute work to catch up on and had those papers spread out on the bed beside her. Blaire chewed on her pen, flipping through files and signing off on important documents. The door was already open so when Terry walked in she didn’t notice him. He ditched his shirt on his way to the bed and she eyed the familiar tattoos that decorated his forearms. The lion had a chokehold on black men. 

“How much do you have left?” Terry asked. He slid in the bed behind her, his chest to her back and his hands resting on her thigh. “I want some attention.” 

“Not much,’ she didn’t want to lean into the embrace but she couldn’t hide that she missed him. She missed him so much. 

She told him as much. The warmth of his body pressed up against her as he looked over her shoulder. His thick arm flexed before he placed his hand on her stomach and kissed the side of her neck. The last thing they needed to be doing was having sex. It was the same cycle and it always ended with make up sex. Hot and intense. Terry was intense. The last thing she needed was a lower body realignment so she pushed his head away. 

“I have to get up early in the morning.” 

“Okay?” 

He pushed the strap of her top down her arm and kissed his way from her neck to her shoulder. His beard scratched against her skin and she shivered, gripping her pen tight in her fist. 

“Terry,’ Blaire whimpered. 

“Mmmhm?” 

“You don’t have condoms.” 

“How do you know what I got?” 

Blaire rolled her eyes. “I was always the one that bought them. I know you don’t.” 

Blaire’s body didn’t do well with birth control, Terry still wanted more kids, so when they were intimate he wore condoms. It made sense. As a married couple, it was their only option for birth control, no matter how much he hated it. He pouted every time he had to remove it and throw it away, but he never wanted to put her health at risk. He’d suffer so she didn’t have too. 

“Just once?” He asked. “I want to reacquaint myself with the way you feel. I’ll pull out.” 

Blaire turned her head to hide the smile on her face. That’s how they ended up pregnant with Noah. He didn’t know what it meant to pull out. 

“The last time you said that I ended up pregnant.” 

“Yeah, the back of my truck.” He smiled. “I married you the following morning.” 

“My Dad still wants to fight you for springing that on him.” 

“Your Dad sees me every day.” He replied, scratching his chin. “He gave me hell before I shipped out though.” 

Impulsive had been Terry’s middle name when they were younger. He made split decisions and acted on his impulses. His selfishness was a huge trigger in their relationship. She was glad when he came home from basic training that had been trained out of him. 

“He had dreams of walking each of us down the aisle.” 

“I still want to see that.” Terry admitted. “I’m always going to come home to you, Blaire. I know it doesn’t look like that but it’s the truth.” 

Blaire turned around and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Instead, he turned his head at the last minute and their lips touched instead. As always his scent drove her crazy. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to wear cologne. He just smelled good. It didn’t help that he was a good kisser, knowing just how to hold her to keep her there. Blaire pulled him closer with a hand on the back of his head. Her nails scratched into his scalp as he crawled into her lap. She pushed him away when his tongue licked at her lips, hoping to slip between them and into her mouth. She’d be putty in his hands if that happened. 

“Alright,’ she whispered, ‘I need to finish working.” 

Before that, she reached into her purse beside the bed and dropped the next month’s bills into his lap. He had been paying them in two places and with his lease breaking tomorrow he could focus on his main household. Blaire could have easily paid them, however, he had sent her the money for them monthly, refusing to give up that responsibility just because he wasn’t in the house. She wasn’t a single mother and he made sure she didn’t act like it. He picked up Noah from school three times a week, was here every weekend, fixing shit around the house whenever Blaire called her Dad to do it, maintained her car services, and just bought her new tires. Terry wasn’t going to let their arguments come between doing what he vowed to do. 

He paid most of the bills online and did so as she slowly started to finish and pack up her purse and work bag. When she rose up on her knees he realized what she was wearing. A gray lace night dress that had two long slits on the sides. Her thick thigh shook while she moved across the bed. The straps had fallen off her shoulders and the swell of her breast was the only thing keeping the top up. Her hair was in two braids with satin ribbons on the end to roll them up. He watched her over the top of his phone as she bent over to put her bags on the bench in front of the bed. 

Blaire was well aware of what she was doing. Crawling back to her side of the bed, she ignored his eyes and kicked back the blanket, ass in his face, before she crawled under the sheets. Terry passed her the black bonnet on his side of the bed and she slipped it on, turning out the light while he stared at his phone screen. He tossed the mail and his phone to the side, mimicking her by getting under the sheets. 

He didn’t have to reach for her. She rolled into his arms, her head on his chest and her arm thrown over his middle. He didn’t miss how tight she held him and the way her legs tangled up with his. 

“What time do you have to be on site?” 

“I’ll be here to help get Noah ready.” 

“Okay,’ she replied. “Will you be there for picture day? He’s been wanting to spend all his time with you.” Blaire was far from jealous, however, he could hear it in her voice. 

Noah needed his father and she was happy they had such a good relationship. Terry was a bit more structured than she was and had a stricter hold on the seven year old, but he loved his son and made sure he had everything he needed and wanted. 

“He’s growing up, dushi.” 

“He’s my baby.” 

“He’s not a baby though.” 

Blaire lifted her head. “You could have let him sleep in here tonight.” 

Terry rolled on his side, Blaire on hers beside him. He rested his hand on her hip, his fingers snaking beneath her dressed, and moved closer to her. 

“I was hoping to defile this bed tonight. I want to turn you every which way but loose.” He admitted. He licked his lips, and dipped his head to slant his lips over hers. “But you won’t let me.” 

His body covered hers, resting between her open thighs. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her legs went around his waist. Heavy, he rested some of his body weight on her, smiling as she curled her body into his. 

“Just let me push your panties to the side,’ he crooned in her ears. “I’ll slide right in.” 

Nasty didn’t encompass the things he was whispering in her ear. Filth fell from his mouth like a sonnet. 

“You better pull out,’ she warned. 

He in fact, did not, but only because she begged him not too. 

Aaron was an early riser. Usually up by four-thirty to get a workout in and stop and get breakfast–but today, he wasn’t rushing. He laid there a bit longer, feeling Brennan curled up against him. Her arm was draped across his chest. He lifted his hand to rub her arm and wrist, then brought her hand to his lips, kissing the soft skin along the back of it.

“Mmm.” Brennan stirred, turning her head, eyes still heavy with sleep. She met his ocean-blue eyes, squinting to look at the digital clock on his side of the bed. “What time is it?”

Aaron grinned, his lips still close to her skin. “Just a little after five-thirty,” he answered low.“You wanna sleep a little longer?”

Brennan pushed herself up on one elbow. “As nice as that sounds, I gotta get up soon. But I ain’t mad for a few more minutes with you.”

He chuckled, pulling her closer with one arm wrapped tight around her waist. “Aight, a few more minutes it is.”

They settled into a quiet, comfortable silence, the first sign of light spilling through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the darkroom. Aaron watched as she relaxed. He loved the way she looked first thing in the morning—eyes half-closed, her black silk bonnet sliding off her head, his shirt hanging loose off her shoulder cause it was way too big and a small, content smile spread across her face. 

“You make it hard to get outta bed,” she mumbled, her voice still dripping with sleep as she snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest. His hand that had been on her back shifted to rub her shoulder gently.

“Mhm, that was the plan,” he teased, his lips finding her cheek, then her nose, her chin, before landing softly on her mouth. The hand that had been holding hers slid under the hem of her shirt, fingertips grazing the warm skin of her back.

She let out a soft moan, her hand lightly patting his chest before gently pushing him back. “We gotta get up,” she said, a little firmer now, turning her head when he leaned in for another kiss. “Don’t wanna be late.”

It was Open house, and of course, just her luck, it was also picture day. Brennan-being the assistant director had a lot on her plate. She didn’t mind picture days—except for dealing with the parents, especially the dads who seemed to think they had a shot with her. Please, she thought. She needed to get her mind right, though. With a few more lazy kisses, she finally pulled herself out of his arms and headed for the shared bathroom.

“What you wearin’?” Aaron called out as he stretched, getting up from the bed. He headed to the closet on the left side of the fireplace in their room, the light flicking on automatically as his hand reached up to grab a couple shirts from the rack.

“We’re not matching.”

“We’re not matching?” he mocked, holding up two shirts and eyeing them with a smirk. “Woman, what are you wearin’?” He tossed the shirts on the bed with a dramatic flourish before walking around to the bathroom door. Through the mirror, he saw her rinsing her face, steam from the shower already starting to fog up the glass. Her movements were relaxed, like she was in her own little world for a moment. “You lettin’ me drive you today?" Aaron asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Brennan didn’t usually let him drive—she liked driving herself, not because she had to, but because she didn’t want anyone at work all up in her relationship with Aaron, even though they all knew. It was just easier for her to handle her own car and with their schedules always mismatched—him being the history teacher for grades fourth to eight and the Athletics Director—Brennan usually trailed behind him in the mornings.. His after-school football practices ran late, and she liked to be home before five.

She looked up at him through the mirror, a slight smirk playing on her lips. “You know I’m more than capable of getting myself to work.”

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a knowing look. "I know, but we both know you'll be in a better mood if I take you" 

“Would that make you happy?” Brennan asked, her eyes focused on the mirror as she watched his silhouette shift behind her. Aaron didn’t answer right away, just stood there, a quiet presence in the space between them. His hands come to rest on her waist, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin before he turned her around to face him. 

“What would make me happy…” he began, his voice steady but filled with an underlying heat, “is getting to treat you like my wife and not a girlfriend.”  His lips met hers in a kiss, soft at first, but deepening as he pulled her closer. Brennan melted into him, the familiar taste and warmth of him never failing to make her heart race. The kiss was full of everything they’d never quite said aloud—everything that had been held back for too long.

They’d been through so many phases of their lives together, on and off for years. But despite all of it, Aaron had never stopped wanting Brennan. She’d always been the one he’d come back to, but her stubbornness, her refusal to let herself fall into something too real, always held her back. 

Brennan pulled back slightly, her hands resting on his chest as she studied his shirtless form. “I thought we liked the privacy thing.” Her voice was teasing, but there was something deeper in the words too. She wasn’t ready to let everything out in the open, especially not when it came to them. They had always been private—their relationship was never for the world to see. But Aaron wasn’t the type to sit in the shadows anymore. He wanted more and he wanted it with her.

Brennan’s gaze flicked over him, and she realized—when had he taken his shirt off? She couldn’t help but notice how his biceps bulged with the tension. “How long has it been?” he asked, his voice low but carrying that same tone that always sent a shiver down her spine.

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are we starting from when we broke up back in school, or…?” 

Brennan hadn’t forgotten their history. Their relationship had always been complicated in the beginning.. They’d grown up together, practically next-door neighbors, but things got messy once they hit college. The jealousy, the fights, the breakups.Brennan was too stubborn to admit she gets jealous and Aaron not knowing how to soothe her insecurities. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the past, but the weight of it was still there. It always would be.

“Does it even matter?”  Aaron didn’t wait for an answer. His hands moved to sit her on the bathroom sink, moving to stand between her legs. He kissed her forehead gently.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “How long has it really been?” He didn’t just mean the breakups or the time they’d spent apart. He was asking about them. About this.

Brennan sighed, pulling away just enough to glance up at him-even sitting on high counters, he towered over her.. "Realistically?" she said, her voice quiet but sure. "Since we were 14." 

Aaron’s expression softened, his thumb brushing against her jawline as he studied her. “So, we’ve been doing this for how many years now?”

“Too many,” she muttered under her breath, but her lips quirked up in a small smile. It had been too many years of this—on-again, off-again, never fully giving in to the love they both wanted but couldn’t quite reach. But the truth was, they’d always been connected, always coming back to each other, even when they tried to fight it.

Aaron didn’t let her dwell too long on it. His lips found hers again, soft and slow, but this time with something else—something deeper, like he was grounding her to him. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Brennan,” he whispered against her lips, his hands tracing her back, pulling her in as if he could swallow her whole. “I married you for a reason.” She pressed her hands to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. She sighed, her forehead resting against his as she closed her eyes. 

“I know,” she murmured. She pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. She couldn’t help it—her fear, her uncertainty about fully letting go of all the walls she’d built over the years. But maybe it was time to stop fighting. Maybe it was time to let him love her the way she’d always wanted. He was all she wanted.

He grinned, that familiar spark in his eyes. "I’m a patient man, Bre.” 

She leaned back, her hands resting at his sides as she reached for the clippers. “So am I trimming that goatee or no?” she asked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Aaron chuckled, watching her with an almost lazy smile. “Yeah”

Brennan shakes her head, clippers in hand as she reaches left hand up to hold his jaw. She gently moves the sharp blades along the edges. The tiny hairs falling on his bronzed skin as she focused on nor nicking the skin. She loved doing this for him, something so intimate about grooming his beard calmed her racing nerves. His hands rested on her thick thighs, massaging the smooth flesh between his thick fingers. 

"So, what you wearin' today?" He asked, like it was a question he already knew the answer to but still couldn’t help asking.

Brennan glanced up at him, rolling her eyes but not hiding the smile tugging at her lips. "You already know I’m not matching with you," she replied, the words coming out light and playful, but there was something about the way she said it that made Aaron chuckle. She always acted like she didn’t want to match with him, but deep down, he knew she loved it. She just didn’t like to admit it.

Aaron shook his head, his lips twitching into a smile as he raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you say that, but you’re gonna be real mad when I walk out with some fly outfit, and I see you side-eyeing me 'cause you wish you thought of it first."

She shot him a look while finishing the other side of his beard. "Nah, that’s you, Aaron. You stay thinkin’ you look fly. I’m just tryna get outta here without having to deal with any of your antics"

Her words made him laugh, and he leaned in, his lips brushing her cheek. "you know I only got eyes for you."

Brennan wasn’t sure whether to roll her eyes or laugh at how smooth he was. The way he said it made it sound so natural—like there was no one else in the world who mattered but her. And while that was sweet, it also made her feel exposed, like maybe she had let him in too much. She quickly shifted her focus, trying to shake off the warmth that spread through her chest.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," she muttered, already reaching for her phone to check the time.

Aaron wasn’t having it. "You sure?" He took a step back, but not without lingering for a second longer, his eyes tracing the outline of her. "You wanna wear something  for me, though? Or you just gonna show up to work lookin' like you rolled outta bed?"

She kissed her teeth–her eyes meeting his after placing his clippers on his side of the double vanity sink. "I do roll outta bed. You’ve seen me."

He snorted at that. “Yeah, but you roll outta bed lookin’ like you belong on the cover of dumpster weekly or somethin’.”

Brennan gave him an exaggerated side-eye. "Aaron."

“I’m playing, nèchi.” He chuckles while leaning in closer, his hands resting on her hips as he kissed her forehead lightly. “You’ve got this effortless way about you. I love it.” His voice softened, the playful teasing replaced by something that sounded almost like admiration. “But seriously, you gonna tell me what you wearin’ today or what?”

Brennan rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile. She shook her head like she was annoyed but clearly wasn’t. "You gonna stop actin' like you  my stylist?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I might have to take that job on, since I’m the only one who seems to care about what you put on."

Brennan groaned and finally gave in. “Blaire and I went shopping Saturday and I got this brown bodysuit and jacket from H&M.” She dusts the cut hairs from around his mouth. “Gonna pair it with some jeans and ankle boots..

Aaron flashed her a grin, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “bo ta mustra bon sin importá kiko bo bisti.” He ran his fingers through the short coils of his fro. “But, I wanna stop hiding, nèchi” ”

Brennan looked at him, and for a brief moment, all the walls she’d built up in her mind seemed to fade. She let out a breath and nodded, her voice quieter now. “Okay.” 

Aaron smiled, his arms sliding around her waist as he pulled her closer. "You're still gonna let me drive you today?" His breath blew in her face while his nose rubbed against hers. 

Brennan rolled her eyes again, but her smile betrayed her. “I don’t need the whole school talkin’ about us.”

“Laga nan papia.”

Blaire was up at four. She grabbed her robe and yawned while walking down the hallway. She didn’t notice Terry’s side of the bed was empty. She was so used to getting up and doing things herself, that when she saw Terry in the kitchen pouring coffee into a cup, she jumped. His tall looming figure was missed, but it was odd seeing him back in her kitchen…..their kitchen. 

“Goodmorning, baby.” He greeted, a smile on his face. 

Terry passed her the mug before pulling her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and she noticed he was dressed. A white shirt, dirty looking dickies, steel toe boots, he was going to work. 

“Goodmorning," she replied. “I thought you,’ 

“I am. I’m going to give them the run down and help them prep to put up the frames so electrical can come in this week. I will be back here by six thirty when you wake him up.” 

“I’ll have breakfast when you get back.” 

“You don’t need to do that,’ he says, ‘I’m not expecting you to jump back into all that.” 

“I’m going to be cooking for Noah anyway and you will need to eat something.” 

“I mean,’ he says, tugging at the tie to her robe, ‘if you want to feed me you can lay down on the dining table.” 

Blaire’s face warmed at his words. She was far from shy but something about the way he spoke to her made her shy. She swatted his hand away and wondered if he brought all his things back yet.

“What are you taking to eat?” 

“I’ll stop and get something.” 

“What about dinner?” 

“Have I ever told you what to cook?” Terry shrugged. 

Blaire turned around and walked to the freezer, sifting through for something to cook later. She ended her days at three so she had plenty of time. Behind her, Terry pulled her away from the freezer and closed it. He pressed her against the counter next to the fridge and untied her robe. The kitchen was cold and she bit down on her lip as his rough hands rubbed up her thighs. He gathered the night dress around her waist with one hand while the other tugged at her panties. 

“What are you doing,’ she asks as he drops to his knees. “Terry!” 

He looked up at her while kissing the inside of her thigh. He drops it on his shoulder and she feels him shrug. Blaire’s other leg began to shake in anticipation. The light above the stove was the only light on as she cupped the back of her husband’s head. His lips worked over her sex slowly, her dampness spreading across his mouth. A warmth spread quickly in her lower belly as he held her up with his hand on the back of her knee. 

He hummed against her sex, smiling as he stroked her with his tongue. Blaire grabbed the counter and squeezed, her knuckles turning white. 

“Should have let me lay your ass on the table," he joked, only to grab her other leg and put it on his shoulders. 

He stood up and she let out a soft squeal, grabbing his head for balance. He didn’t want to risk walking like this with the lights out, so he used the island instead. Laying her down, Terry pushed her legs up towards her chest, then slid them open so they were almost touching the island. She tried to close her legs, not to feel so exposed, but he swatted her thigh. 

“Keep it open for me,’ he huffed. “Are you still hiding from me?” 

He knew her body inside and out, having seen it so much. Last night he did exactly what he said he would; push her panties to the side and slid in. They hadn’t even taken off their clothes. 

“I haven’t shaved,’ she admitted, eyes clenched shut as his thumb worked through her pussy, her slick collecting on the digit he swiped his tongue across. 

His mouth followed the same pattern, hot and wet and she whimpered softly. 

“I’m a grown ass man Blaire.” He turned his wrists and checked the time. “With an extra fifteen minutes to spare, keep them pretty thighs open.” 

Selfishly she missed her intimate life with Terry. He took care of her physically each time and she knew these next fifteen minutes would be the same. He loved all types of physical touch. The dick was heavy. None of the toys Blaire had compared to what was swinging between Terry’s legs and there had been many nights she called him just for dick. Of course he came. She did too, but that's besides the point. He was the only man that could scratch that itch. 

“Okay.” Her voice trembled. 

Her hands rubbed his head, the low cut hairs felt rough against her hands. Rubbing the back of his head, she sat up just enough to watch his tongue wiggle itself into her hole that was already leaking onto the island. For fifteen minutes, Terry penned his apology into her pussy with his tongue. 

He helped her off the counter afterwards and sent her to start getting ready for Open House. Blaire heard his truck leave the driveway and went back to the kitchen. She pulled out boneless chicken thighs to defrost because of course she was going to cook for him. She had plans to meet up with some of the work crew after school for dinner and she wanted Noah and Terry to have their own meal so schedules weren’t off. Plus, he’d have lunch for tomorrow and so would Noah who had taken to his bento box and wanted to use it all the time. 

Blaire had a ton of tasks today as the Open House was going to be hectic. It was an informal “first day” where students' photos would be taken, families could meet teachers, new families would be given tours, and it was going to be a day she probably didn’t get a chance to sit down. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to wear heels. They were her sneakers, the high heels clicking on the tile of the school was a stim for her. She was that person that walked down the hall jingling keys for no reason. 

After shopping with Brennan, she found a cream dress with red flowers on it. There was some lace around the top and it matched her nude pumps. She’d stretched her curls out and enjoyed the summer weather before fall set in. Blaire walked into the hall bathroom that Noah used. Wanting the day to go smoothly, she ran to his bath and went to wake him up. It was six in the morning and when she opened his door, he was already sitting up in his bed, an anxious look on his face. He jumped when she called his name and concern spread over Blaire’s face. 

“Hey Baby Bear,’ she greets softly as she walks to sit on his bed. 

The red and blue sheets were spiderman themed but lacked the character. Noah was always shifting his interest and it was easier to replace basic sheets than search for appropriate bedding in the style he wanted. 

“Goodmorning, Mommy.” He sighed. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked. 

He crawled into her lap and she hugged him while pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Daddy has to work?” 

Blaire rubbed his back and nodded. “Yeah, he does.” 

“Is he coming to school for pictures?” 

“He said he would.”

Noah jumped off the bed after that. He went about his morning routine as usual, having stuck to it even after school was out the previous year. Terry had told her many times how scheduled he was when she let him spend the night with him. He was becoming more self-sufficient, at seven, and that was in part to her involving him in his own care. It also helped that Terry indirectly did the same. He wasn’t as quick to console him when something was wrong like Blaire. He learned all his problem solving skills from his father. He has the emotional development appropriate for his age, but sometimes there was a spark of emotional maturity. 

Noah rambled on about getting Terry a Spider-Man shirt for the pictures and Blaire had to remind him these were for the yearbook, the fun pictures would come later. Over his breakfast he gushed about how Terry did this and that. It made Blaire feel a tinge of sadness knowing that energy hadn’t been in the house. 

“Can Daddy live here,’ he asked suddenly and Blaire almost dropped her coffee cup. 

“Yeah,’ she replied after a beat. His big hazel eyes were just like his Father’s. “Yeah. He can live here.” 

The front door opened and heavy boots filled her ears. She had a plate by the stove ready, knowing he was hungry, despite what he said earlier. Noah slid from his stool and ran over, his arms circling his Dad’s legs. Blaire was glad she had him in pajamas until right before leaving. He’d have black gravel soot and dust all over his clothes right now. 

“Mommy says you can live here!” 

Blaire turned her back quickly to the duo, option to make herself an ice coffee. 

“She did?” He says, dropping him back at the island to finish eating. “Where am I going to sleep?” 

Terry stared at his wife’s back as he walked over to where she was. He kissed the top of her head and his hand discreetly patting her backside. The dress doing little to hide her curves. 

“Mommy has a big bed!” Noah pressed his mother wit a question. “Can Daddy sleep in your bed Mommy?” 

Terry stood by the sink, shoulder to shoulder with Blaire and a smirk on his face. She moved to the sink, then stopped. 

“Yeah,’ Terry added, finally pulling his wife’s attention to his eyes. The double meaning to his words were not lost off Blaire and she licked her lips. His eyes tracked her tongue and his own darted over his full lips. 

“Can Daddy sleep in your bed?” 

"I'm Brennan Anderson, the Assistant Director here at Melanin Preparatory Academy," Brennan greeted warmly as she stood up from her desk.

Her tone was smooth, confident, though there was a softness in her eyes as she smiled at the family entering the room.A small family stepped inside, looking a bit nervous, especially the parents. The kids seemed more interested in the surroundings, fidgeting with their clothes or glancing around the office, but the parents were the ones who seemed to be feeling the weight of the moment.

"You must be the Creed family?" Brennan asked, her voice laced with familiarity, like she’d been through this a hundred times before.

The mother nodded, giving Brennan a polite but anxious smile, while the father stood slightly behind her, his arms crossed as he surveyed the room. “I’m Adonis and this is my wife T’nya.” 

The kids—two siblings, a girl and a boy—hung back a little, still unsure of what to expect. The girl was clutching her backpack, looking around with wide eyes, while the boy stood with his hands in his pockets, trying to seem cool but clearly uncomfortable. “These are our kids. Amira and Kairo.”

“Hi guys.” Brennan smiles, gesturing to the snack bar by the door. “If it’s okay, you guys can help yourselves to some snacks.” 

Adonis nods. “Just one. We’re meeting grandma for lunch later.” 

“Before we begin.” Brennan redirects the parents attention while gesturing for them to sit down. “Melanin Prep is an African American school that caters to black youth from the ages of six weeks to fourteen.” 

“That was mentioned in the pamphlet.” Adonis glances back at his two kids giggling and snacking on bags of chips. “It was a no-brainer to apply.” He looks back at Brennan, eyes flickering from her face to the ring on her hand. “I’m just not understanding why we were on a waitlist for so long.”

Brennan nods, noticing the once over he was giving her. Bold–considering his wife was next to him. “Like I mentioned, Melanin Prep caters six weeks to the age of fourteen, but that is from start to finish. Amira will be going to fourth grade, correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“So that means she will be enrolled until eight grade. The same goes for Kairo who is starting first grade. He will be with us until he ages out at fourteen when it's time for him to start highschool.” Brennan explains. “That explains why you were on the waitlist for so long. Our eighth graders have transitioned to highschool and some spaces opened due to a few withdrawals.”

"We understand.” Tnya’s voice a little more guarded than Brennan had expected. "This is... this is our first time going through all this, so we just wanna make sure we understand everything."

Brennan nodded, sensing the nerves in the air. Parents always had a tendency to overthink things, especially when it came to enrolling their kids at a new school. She didn’t mind though; it came with the territory.

"No problem," she said smoothly, reaching toward the stack of files on her desk. The papers were neatly organized with everything from school handbooks to enrollment forms, attendance policies, and the school's code of conduct. She picked up the first file and opened it up with a small rustle, flipping through to the important sections.

"We’ll be going over everything you need to know," she continued, making sure to keep her tone reassuring. "The curriculum, the school’s values, and all the expectations we hold here at Melanin Prep. I know it can be a lot to take in, but I’ll be here to help guide you through it."

T’nya nodded again, though her nervousness hadn't quite eased. "I just want to make sure this is the right place for them. I mean, we’ve heard a lot of good things, but—"

"I get it," Brennan said, cutting her off gently but firmly. She gave a smile that was both warm and confident. "It’s a big step. And trust me, you’ll find that here at Melanin, we focus on not just academics, but on nurturing your kids as individuals. Our environment is designed to help them grow both inside and outside the classroom."

Adonis seemed to relax a bit, but still maintained that guarded stance. "I just want to make sure they’ll be challenged," he said, his voice lower, but not without a hint of concern. "This is a new environment for them. Will they be prepared for the next level?"

Brennan smiled, already knowing what he needed to hear. "Melanin Prep has a strong academic track record. Our curriculum is designed to push students to reach their full potential. Whether they’re excelling in the classroom, or thriving in extracurriculars, we make sure there’s a healthy balance."

“Their last school was rough, so we want to make sure the kids have a chance.”

"Your children will have the opportunity to grow at their own pace, but also be challenged to achieve things they might not think they could. That's what we’re all about here—supporting them as individuals."

They seemed to take in the words,  T’nya’s shoulders visibly relaxing. "That sounds good," she said, giving a softer smile. "I just want them to have a place where they feel like they belong."

Brennan’s smile softened, the understanding clear in her eyes. "That’s one of the most important things we do here. We focus on building community and fostering a sense of belonging, because we know that when kids feel at home, they excel."

The father gave a small nod, as though his concern had been eased. He looked at Brennan for a long moment, his arms now uncrossed, a hint of respect in his gaze. "Well, that sounds exactly like what we’ve been looking for."

Brennan was about to continue with the paperwork when she noticed the kids had started to move toward the desks, exploring the pens and other office supplies, quietly and with more curiosity now. She decided to shift the tone slightly, hoping to bring the focus back to the family as a whole. 

“Before we start. I will need a verbal answer and a written signature on if you guys will be enrolling your children here.” She pulls out a typed document, placing it in front of them.”

Adonis frowns, feeling like he was signing his kids' life away. “What for?” T'nya hits his arm with a nigga really look on her face. 

“What T’nya? She got us signing shit. I thought we were doing orientation.” 

“Mind your language in my office.” Brennan glances at him. “As I mention before our waitlist is extensive. Once your in there is no withdrawing and going to another school and then trying to come back. We have plenty of parents wanting to enroll their kids here.”

“Even if I supply a hefty donation?” Adonis looks at her.

“Adonis!”

Brennan shakes her head with a soft laugh. “Mr. Creed. We are Title 1 Division school, we get plenty of donations from the community and our youth’s parents. We do not take kindly to bribes. That is the quickest way to disqualify your children.” She looks at him. 

Then directs her full attention to T’nya “I understand the reservations, but you wouldn’t have wasted my time if you weren’t going to enroll them here.”

Brennan had her fair share of parents that thought they could pay their way in. She and Blaire had made sure when this school was opened they would keep their morals and integrity.  Taking bribes would feel like a cop out and a insult to everything they worked so hard to build. 

“I’m sorry.” T’nya apologizes. “We would love to enroll our kids here.” She forces the pen in his hand. While they signed the necessary paperwork, she glances at the kids move to the large fish tank she had, several beta fish swimming around eating the food she had put in there this morning. 

“My apologies, Ms. Anderson.” Adonis places a hand over his heart while staring her down. “I just want my kids to have the best opportunities.”

“I want nothing but the best for your children as well.” She places the document in a red scanner connected to her Mac computer. The papers scanning to the harddrive as she gathered several other documents for them to fill out. "Let’s go over some of the policies and guidelines while we wait for the paperwork to be processed," she suggested,. "But first, I’d love to hear a little more about your kids—what are they interested in? What are their strengths? I want to make sure we place them with the right teacher, and encourage extracurriculars.

The parents exchanged a quick glance, the initial nerves now giving way to pride. The father spoke first, his voice filled with a little more warmth than before. "Well, my daughter is really into music—she plays piano and sings. And my son," he looked toward the boy, who was now slouched comfortably in a chair, "he’s all about sports. Football, mostly."

Brennan’s eyes brightened as she jotted down a quick note. "That’s fantastic. We have some great programs here for both. I think they’ll fit right in."

She could tell that they were starting to feel more comfortable now, the worry beginning to lift as they got a better sense of the school’s atmosphere. 

As she went on to explain more about the school’s offerings, from advanced music classes to the athletic programs, Brennan felt the shift from tension to trust—a shift she had seen countless times before. It was moments like these that reminded her why she did what she did. Helping these families navigate this new chapter for their kids, making sure they had everything they needed to succeed—it was what made the job worth it. 

"Alright," Brennan said as she closed the last file, "that covers the basics. You’ve got the information you need, and I’ll make sure the rest of the paperwork gets processed quickly. How about a tour for your kids? They can see the classrooms and get a feel for the school before they start school tomorrow?."

The parents exchanged another glance, then looked back at her, the tension from before completely gone now. "That sounds perfect," the mother said, smiling now. "Thank you, Ms. Anderson."

Brennan stood up, offering them her hand. "It’s my pleasure. I’ll make sure we get them set up with everything they need. Welcome to Melanin Preparatory Academy."

a/n: I want to note that terry and blaire's relationship is very much man of the house/submissive wife type shit, BUT done in a more respectful way. as we explore their relationship it will become more clear but I just wanted to share that ahead of things to come. I just wanted a different type of dom/sub dynamic that was rooted in a nonsexual connection.

@nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem @captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr

@beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina  @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated @swavydadon wabi-sabi1090 Blackgurlkillinit prawspektn iterum-incipi chiachia14 liquorlaughslove L0vesicktimes kinginwithbreezy-blog eilujion Atomicqueenbitch-blog gabbywontlose Heytaewrites 1333286ab-blog Keyera-jackson deja-r

Solunaseira 1thrasherkookie1 moooonluvr ashykneee cocogoddess0g zoey101-2 reignsboy19 cicici03 Elizablu lous-house-of-thoughtsl reci1996 romansglow mjcurlsss yana3sworld chloeijuana nun0ir wrestlingprincess80 simplyzeeka taureanstargirl mzv11

Disc0fair browngirldominion Murrylove venusesworld uceyliyah  Venusesworld prettyfilmz simplyzeeka wrestlingprincess80 heytaewrites Liquorlaughslove 

[tourneyofashvara]

i'm watching game of thrones for the first time -- read the books ages ago, just never watched the tv show -- and i've just finished the red wedding and like, you always kind of hope, oh maybe it will turn out better this time but no! it never does!

[mystic-writings]

we’re just fine | daryl dixon

PAIRING — Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

SUMMARY — after the fall of the prison, you find yourself in alexandria, alone. two months later, your family finds their way back to you. 

WARNINGS — angst, canon-typical violence/situations, pregnancy, fluff 

WORD COUNT — 5,000

NOTES — idk what happened to me all i know is i blacked out and then this was made. enjoy i guess

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Despite the pure monotonous routine you’d gotten used to during your two months in Alexandria, you couldn’t say that it wasn’t sometimes extremely boring. Your only saving grace was the mealtimes you had with Aaron and Eric at the end of the day. At least they had the sense and experience outside the walls to be able to carry out a conversation that wasn’t about what food you were eating or how the weather was. 

It was why you hated when they went out on recruitment runs. As their roommate, you felt awkward being in the home by yourself when they left the walls; as though you were intruding. You felt that way in a lot of aspects. An intruder on a perfect life that these people had grown used to in the wake of the apocalypse. A life where their only worry was whether or not Aiden and Nicholas would find the right ingredients for the food they’d planned on cooking during their supply runs. 

But there was nothing to be done aside from making a meal for one, eating alone with only a soft classical music CD to fill the silence, and to wait for the couple to come back home so you would have normal people to talk to. 

You were glad for them and the runs they went on, though. Or they never would’ve found you, and you’d likely be dead in a ditch by now. 

Your hand shook as you gripped the handle of your blade, wide eyes searching the pharmacy for any signs of walkers, or people. Being on the road alone for as long as you had been was making you feel like you’d gone crazy. Maybe you had already. 

Sweeping the small aisles, you found no signs of life. Most of the shelves were already empty, likely having been raided during the early days. Still, you grabbed whatever was available to you, shoving it into your bag before ducking into a corner, knees pressed to your chest as you rooted around for one of the final few cans of food you had left. 

You’d been rationing out what used to be a plentiful supply for a few weeks now. One can of food per day, nothing more. A lot of what you had was thanks to the traffic blockages on the highways and interstates you’d wandered along on your way out of Georgia. What used to be two cans a day for almost three weeks turned into one for the past week and a half, bordering on two. 

The lack of food wasn’t your only issue anymore. With no signs of life from your former group, you had every reason to believe that they were all dead. Logically, you knew they weren’t. You’d seen some of them escape in the firefight, yourself included. But without any real way of tracking them down, they were as good as dead. Not to mention the sudden and constant fatigue that the southern sun seemed to give to you, making traveling more difficult than you had originally planned. 

Even with no end in sight, no real indicator that the man you called your husband was still alive, and no true hope for your future, you still persisted. You found places to sleep for the night, whether in abandoned cars or gas stations off of turnpikes. You found just enough food to supply you for a few more days if you managed to stretch it thin enough, and you kept going. 

Just as you were about to crack open a can of corn, the crunching of glass and shuffling of footsteps alerted you to the body that had just entered the pharmacy. Its footfalls sounded too heavy and spaced out to be anything but a human. 

Gripping onto your knife, you held your breath and gently placed the can on the floor. With your bag still on your shoulders, you kept your body crouched and your ears peeled, moving around the person — no, people — moving around the pharmacy. 

“I’m telling you, we’ve already been here. There’s nothing left to take,” a voice reasoned. 

The footsteps ceased for a moment, and you paused, praying they hadn’t heard you. “I know. Doesn’t hurt to check, though, right? I mean, we can’t exactly go back empty handed. Aiden’ll have something to say about it.”

“But we aren’t out here for supplies,” the other stressed, “we’re out here for people, remember? New members?”

“I know,” their partner chuckled, footsteps resuming as they rounded the last aisle. You ducked between the shelves closest to the door, hoping to just outrun them and not have to fight them. There was a pause, a palpable beat, before he spoke again. “But I think we might not be coming back alone.”

A cold chill ran through your veins at the former’s words. He knew you were in here. He’d seen your can of food, or heard your shuffling around the pharmacy. In an instant, you were at your full height, eyes wide as your fingers clutched your knife tighter and you ran, against your better judgment, toward the pair. The blond was the one closest to you, his back facing your front. With as much energy as you could muster, you hooked your arm over his shoulder, dragging him to your chest as you pressed your knife to his throat. It wasn’t hard enough to do any real damage, but you knew that if you absolutely had to, you’d apply pressure. 

“Who are you?” You spat, hand shaking as it gripped the knife. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah, calm down. It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.” The brunet immediately jumped into negotiation mode, putting his hands in front of him. The position reminded you of Rick, oddly enough, and your heart twinged as you adjusted your grip on the knife. 

“Then what are you here for?” You spat. “Like you said, there’s nothing worth taking here.”

The faintest of whimpers escaped the lips of the man you held hostage, dragging both yours and the brunet’s attention to him. “We’re just—” the blond gulped. “We’re recruiters. We have a camp not too far from here. A safe one. We’re looking for people to join us. People who have— have experience, out here.” 

His words, as stuttery and fearful as they were, confused you. 

“I’m Aaron,” the brunet said, keeping his arms up in surrender as he slowly slid the backpack from his shoulders. “That man you have is my partner, Eric. Everything he’s saying is right, and I can show you. I have pictures and a brochure in my bag, if you’ll let me get it.” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. Even if he had a weapon, most of your body was blocked by his partner — Eric. There was a highly likely chance that he wouldn’t try to harm you while you kept his friend in your grip, however weak it was becoming. 

Slowly, Aaron reached into his bag, pulling out exactly what he said he would. With Eric still in your grip, he showed you pictures of the place he and his friend called home — Alexandria. “Look,” Aaron sighed, stepping back a bit. “You seem like someone we could use. You have experience that we lack. Plus, it seems like you’ve been out here by yourself a while. We have walls, food, running water, and proper shelter. And if you decide to come with us, our leader, Deanna, will interview you. If she allows you in and you don’t like it, you can leave any time you want. We won’t keep you there if you don’t want to be, okay?”

With a shaking nod, you let go of Eric, nudging him toward Aaron, who enveloped the other man in a tight hug. “I— I can leave if I want to, right?”

“Of course, you can. No one will stop you, and that’s a promise.” 

It took a bit of getting used to, but you were glad that Aaron and Eric had found you that day. You’d been skeptical of things in Alexandria for the first few days, but you warmed to the entire situation a lot easier than you thought you would. You supposed it was because of how things were at the prison, but even then you weren’t alone.

Aaron and Eric, while not pushing the topic often, had managed to get to know enough about you and where you came from before they’d found you that they considered you a close friend. 

You’d only told them the briefest of answers. That you were with a large group in Georgia from the beginning, that you’d been with one of them for most of that time — even, at some point, considering yourselves to be married, though the symbol you’d had to show it had been lost months ago — and then another group came along and took everything away from you, simply because they could. 

The safety and privacy that the couple provided was something you were more than grateful for, even if you were sure you wouldn’t be able to have it forever. 

Because while Aaron and Eric, along with the rest of Alexandria, provided a structure and a sense of normalcy for you, you couldn’t shake the grief that fell upon you every time you were alone. 

The thought of Daryl being out there, combing every inch of Georgia for you while you were so far away, was enough to bring you to tears. It was another thing to think about the possibility of his rotting corpse roaming the woods in search of something living to eat. The thought that you’d never see him again, dead or alive. That you’d just push through life — however much longer that would be for you — without him, even though he promised you’d never have to go through something like that. 

The thought of your baby never knowing who their father was, and their father never knowing who they were, either. 

You could go an entire lifetime without ever seeing Daryl again, and the idea of it nearly killed you when he was still around. It hurt a hundred times worse now that it was practically a reality. 

The night passed without word from or the arrival of Aaron and Eric. It was common for them to be gone a while at a time — this particular trip lasting almost a week — but you hated sleeping in the house by yourself now. You were so used to waking up to Eric clattering dishes in the kitchen that waking up midday when they were gone only proved how fatigued you seemed to feel nowadays. 

Waking up to a knock on the door wasn’t unusual as of late, but it was certainly unpleasant. You were, however, grateful for the fact that when you were given a room at Aaron and Eric’s, it was on the first floor. 

Rolling out of bed got harder and harder with each passing week, but you managed it anyway. The knocking persisted, and you sighed as you made your way into the living room, shouting out, “I’m coming!”

The knocking ceased, and you pulled on the fabric of your shirt before answering the door, only to find Jessie. “Oh, hey,”

“Hi, hon,” she smiled, and you felt bad for being upset at her moments before. “Pete sent me over, said you were supposed to see him this morning?” 

“Oh, shit, Jessie I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing some stray hair from your face. “I overslept, normally Aaron—” 

Jessie smiled warmly, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on your arm. “I understand, Y/n, no need to worry. Just get dressed and head over to the infirmary. It’s not like Pete’s in any real rush.” 

“Alright,” you nodded, bidding Jessie goodbye and closing the door as she headed down the porch steps. 

Padding your way through the home, you went back to your room, pulling on some fresh clothes before freshening up in the bathroom. Routines like these were simple, but they kept you sane. You’d had something a little closer to it at the prison, but it was nowhere near as nice as it was in Alexandria. 

After eating a small breakfast, you were out of the house and on your way to the infirmary. The streets were quiet, as always, and the sun was anything but forgiving. People smiled and waved, and you did the same, even if you didn’t know half of the people in this place. Even after being here for two months, it was hard to remember such trivial things about so many people. Plus, putting names to faces was never one of your strong suits. 

Stepping into the infirmary, you were grateful for the burst of air conditioning that fell over your body. Smiling, you greeted Denise and Pete, the former of the two sitting on one of the beds as she pored over the book in her lap. 

“Alright, let’s take a look at you. Sound good?” Pete smiled, and you nodded back. 

While you hauled yourself onto the bed, Pete readied the ultrasound equipment. Pulling back the loose shirt you wore, your eyes glued themselves to the obvious, albeit still small, bump you were sporting. 

“Hey, I’m about four months along now, right?” You asked, eyes darting up to Pete, who confirmed with a nod. “That means you can see the baby’s gender, doesn’t it? I remember hearing that somewhere,” 

Pete chuckled, powering on the machine and taking the gel from its holster. “Most of the time, yes. If you want me to look around for it, I can do that. After I make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I really wanna know,” you said, wincing at the cold gel making contact with your skin. “It’d mean a lot. Then I can go full nesting mode. And so can Aaron and Eric, really.” 

The ultrasound went off without a hitch. According to Pete, your margins were clear, and everything looked healthy with the baby. It was always a relief to hear. There was little room for error with these things now that you had scarcely little supplies to work with. Finding the ultrasound machine early on in the apocalypse was a miracle in itself. 

“Okay…” Pete hummed, the wand moving and pressing over your skin. “The kid’s giving me a hard time with this one. And…” he pressed a few buttons, eyes focused on the screen before him. You watched his features intensely, as though his expression would give the answer away before he could say it. Pete’s eyes broke from the screen as he smiled, lifting the wand. “You’re having a little girl. Congratulations.” 

Your heart swelled, a wide smile overtaking your features as Pete handed you a towel. “A girl,” you whispered, eyes locked onto your belly. 

Before you were able to stop yourself, you were once more reminded of the likelihood that you’d never be able to share this with Daryl. Tears welled along your waterline as you sat up, swiping the scratchy cloth across your belly. Whether Pete noticed or not, he made no indications. You were thankful for it, and for him leaving the room to put the ultrasound equipment away. 

When he came back inside, he pulled Denise from her books and into the kitchen to talk, but you paid no mind to them. They were talking too low for you to listen in, anyway, and you were too busy trying to quell your emotions on the makeshift examination table to want to eavesdrop. 

By the time you were ready to leave, Olivia entered the infirmary, eyes scanning the room before landing on your frame. 

“Y/n, they’re on their way back,” she smiled, and you nodded gratefully. 

“They’re okay?”

The woman nodded. “Eric’s a bit banged up, hurt his leg I think, but otherwise they’re fine. And they brought a group. They should be getting here soon.” 

Exhaling a relieved breath, you slid from the bed, bidding goodbye to Denise and Pete as you followed Olivia onto the street. You walked side by side in silence, mulling over what she’d said. 

“You said they brought a group?” You asked, following Olivia up the steps to the house that held all of your inventory. “How many?”

Olivia huffed, brows cinching. “Deanna said it was a big one. That they had a lot of weapons, been on the road a while.” 

Your eyes widened. “A while as in the entire time, or?”

“Not sure,” Olivia shook her head. “All I know is I gotta get the weapons cart to the gate, if you wanna help?” 

“Sure. Should probably be there to get Eric to the infirmary, anyway,” you decided. 

And, sure enough, Aaron helping a limping, sweating Eric through the gate was the first — and for now, only — glimpses of the new group you would get. Aaron smiled apologetically as he spotted you, tucked out of view from the newcomers. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You said, looking pointedly at Eric, who grimaced as you took his arm from Aaron. 

“Roamers,” he sighed. “It’s broken, I think.” 

“You think?” You asked, eyeing the bruising flesh. “I can tell it’s broken. Come on, let’s get you to Pete.” 

Aaron thanked you as you wrapped an arm around Eric’s waist, helping him up the road and back into the infirmary. 

As Pete worked to wrap Eric’s ankle, you couldn’t help but ask questions about the trip. 

“It was a disaster,” Eric groaned. “There were roamers everywhere. Plus, this group, they’re headstrong. Been out there a while.” 

“How many of them are there?” You asked. “Olivia didn’t tell me.” 

“Fifteen,” Eric hissed, squirming as Pete positioned his ankle properly. 

Your eyes widened, throat going dry. “Jesus,” you huffed. “That many of them and they’re still going?”

“With a baby,” 

“Oh my God,” you gasped. Your mind flashed with images of baby Judith, heart clenching. The fall of the prison meant that you never found out exactly who made it out alive, and you never dared to venture the thought of whether or not she did. “They must be some lucky sons of bitches.” 

Eric laughed. “Not only are they lucky, but they’re tough. And really close. I think, once you get used to them, you’ll like them. They remind me of you when we found you.” 

“So, scrappy, hungry, and tired?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Eric laughed, and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

“If you need me, I’m four houses down.” Aaron pointed, Rick and Carl following his line of sight. “If I’m not there, Eric or Y/n probably will be.” 

Carl’s eyes snapped back to the brunet, a mixture of confusion and skepticism floating within them. “Y/n?”

Aaron’s brows furrowed at the boy. “Yeah. She’s a friend of ours, came here a few months back. Why?”

“We, uh…” Rick stepped in, a hand scratching at his beard. “We used to know someone named Y/n. that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aaron nodded, stepping away and heading back home, where you and Eric were sitting at the table, sandwiches in hand as you giggled about something he wasn’t aware of. 

Upon his entrance into the kitchen, you stood excitedly and hugged the man. “Glad you’re back okay,” you said, heading back to your chair. “I heard the group you brought was tough.”

“Yeah, they are.” Aaron chuckled, still mulling over the puzzle pieces in his head. “You said you were with a big group before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Aaron huffed, glancing at his shoes. “I brought up your name to one of the new members — just a name, nothing else — he said they used to know someone with the same name.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, limbs freezing as you were bringing the sandwich to your mouth. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to put the food back down, looking up at Aaron with shining eyes. “This man, what’d you say his name was?”

“Rick. Rick Grimes.” 

If your heart had been fluttering before, it was banging like a drum in your chest now. Your stomach fluttered, your hand coming to rest on the swell of your belly, hoping to quell the anxiousness. 

“Where are they?” You asked, and Aaron’s mouth only remained agape. “Aaron, where are they?”

“Down the street,” he finally said, voice cracking. “The house on the curb, the one you said you liked.” 

Within moments, your food and friends were abandoned as you practically ran from the home, shooting down the porch steps and down the street. You were thankful that no one was out and about right now, or you were sure they’d think you looked crazy. You didn’t even register a person in your path until you’d already bumped into them. 

“Oh! Y/n, are you alright?” Jessie asked, her hands on your shoulders as her eyes searched your wild ones. 

“‘M fine, Jessie.” You muttered. “I’ve gotta go.”

You gave the woman no time to respond before you were wriggling out of her grip and hurrying down the street. Up more steps, you were greeted by the charming yellow door of the home you’d wished you lived in, knuckles rapping frantically and unyielding on the wood. 

The door finally, after what felt like decades, creaked open. Your heart stopped in your chest as you took in the sight of your husband’s best friend, clean shaven and hair dripping from a recent shower. 

Rick’s eyes flooded with tears as they met your own. In seconds, you were pulling him into your arms, grateful that you weren’t the only survivor of the Governor’s wrath. 

You sobbed into his shoulder, gripping tightly to the clean white shirt he wore. “Rick,” you croaked, “is he—” 

“He’s fine,” Rick whispered, heart breaking when your sobs worsened out of pure relief. “He’s just fine.” 

When you finally found the strength to let go, Rick led you inside. “We thought you were dead,”

“There were times I wished I was,” you said, taking a seat at the edge of the couch. “I was by myself for just over a month. Found some train tracks, lost ‘em, then stuck to interstates, mostly. Got lost in the woods, found a small town, and from there, Aaron and Eric found me. I’ve been here for two months.” 

Rick huffed a laugh, disbelief filling the sound. “Sounds like you had one hell of a trek.”

“I had a car, for a bit.” You shrugged. “Walkers ruined that part. I crashed it into a tree. Stuck to walking after that.” 

“When did you…” Rick glanced down at your swelling belly, forcing a laugh from you. 

Shrugging, you smoothed your hand over your belly. “Four-ish months ago. Didn’t find out until I got here. Been terrified ever since, really. Not knowing if Daryl was out there, if I’d see him again.” 

“You’ll see him soon,” Rick assured you. “He’s talking to Deanna now.”

“And the others?” You asked. “Beth? Judith?”

“Judith is just fine,” Rick said, eyes leaving yours as he sighed. “Beth got caught out in Atlanta. A woman in a hospital killed her.”

Your stomach churned at Rick’s words, guilt crushing your lungs and bile rising in your throat. “Oh, my God,” you whispered, pressing your fingers to your mouth to try and stop yourself from throwing up. 

Rick nodded, resting a hand on your knee. He watched you stand, your arm resting over your belly, beginning to pace the floor before him. 

“I have to… I need to go see the others. Daryl.” And without another word, you were leaving Rick behind in an unfamiliar home, nearly running down the familiar path to where Deanna and her husband lived. 

The group milled about in the small courtyard in front of Deanna’s house, hidden behind the brick walls that fenced it in. Everyone was either sitting or leaning against something, sticking to a tight group, and completely blocking your path to the inside of the home. 

With your mind so set on seeing Daryl, on simply getting close to him again, you failed to register Carol saying your name. Once again, you were pulled from your thoughts only when someone was right in front of you. 

This time, Carol was pulling you into her arms, her grip on your body tight. You hugged her back, despite the sweat and grime that covered her. Soon enough, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, and Sasha had joined her. You were surrounded by your family, all overwhelmed at your presence, but happy nonetheless. 

When you finally requested to be let go, they obliged, and you finally spotted Judith in the arms of someone you didn’t know. Relief flooded you, seeing the baby healthy and happy as she could be. 

“What happened to you?”

“We thought you were dead!”

“Are you okay?”

“Guys, I’m fine, I promise.” You chuckled through tears. “I’ve been here almost the whole time, and I’m perfectly healthy. The doctor said so this morning.” 

You smiled as Carol’s eyes drifted from your face to your belly, shock overcoming her features, before her smile matched yours. She said nothing, but you were sure everyone else was either figuring it out or partially aware, just based on the interaction alone. 

A loud scoff echoed from the porch door, followed by low, gravelly muttering. Your heart stopped at the familiar voice, before thrumming in your heart like a rapid drumbeat. There, walking with careless ease, picking at his thumbs, was your husband, covered head to toe in layers of dirt and grime. You choked a sob as the group seemed to part around you. 

“Daryl,” you croaked, just loud enough for him to hear it. 

Daryl paused at the top of the steps, his eyes locked onto yours through the hair he’d let grow too long. In a flash, he was down the stairs entirely, rushing to pull you into his arms. You met him in the middle, colliding with his body and bringing you both to the ground. With one hand cupping the back of your head and the other splayed between your shoulder blades, Daryl cradled you close to him, rocking you as you clutched to the leather vest on his back tighter, sobbing in his embrace. 

“I thought ya were dead,” he whispered, fingers digging into your back. “I thought I lost ya,”

A choked sound escaped you as you shook your head. “Never,” you promised. “You could never lose me.” 

“Yer necklace,” Daryl croaked, tucking his face into the side of your head. “I found it, on the tracks in Georgia. Thought ya were gone…” 

“It fell.” You said, words hushed and shaking, as though they were a desperate plea. “Walkers were coming for me, too many for me to take on myself. It snapped off in the fight, I couldn’t go back for it.” 

By the time you felt okay enough to stand on your own, everyone had departed from the courtyard, likely into Deanna’s home. With a vice grip on his arms, Daryl helped you stand. His eyes raked over your face, tear-stricken and flushed with emotion. No matter the state you were in, Daryl could never see you as anything other than utterly beautiful. 

“You’re okay?” You asked, hands gently brushing the hair from his dirt-caked face. “You’re not hurt?” 

Daryl shook his head, leaning into your delicate touch. Hands smoothed over cloth, over skin, dedicating the feeling of your body beneath his touch to memory. He watched your eyes flutter closed as he did so, relishing in the slight pressure of his palms against your skin. They slid down your hips, your waist, and Daryl’s brow furrowed. He’d committed your body to memory long ago — every curve, every bump, every scar. Slowly, and with a hand that was less steady than it had been a moment ago, Daryl’s fingers drifted delicately over your front, eliciting a small gasp when he found what he’d suspected. 

The sound forced your eyes to open, meeting the bright blue of his own, widened in shock. Immediately, your stomach churned and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, a habit you’d been unable to shake since high school. 

“Daryl?” Your voice shook. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes darting down to where the backs of his fingers rested, the slight swell of your stomach confirming what he’d been about to ask. “When’d you… did you know?”

“No, no…” you whispered gently, shaking your head. “I had no clue when… I didn’t know until I got here. I suspected it on the road, but… no, I didn’t.” 

A shaking breath fell from his lips. “And yer okay? Yer both— both okay?”

“We’re just fine,” you smiled, resting your palm on his cheek. “I promise. Your girls are just fine.” 

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat, a new wave of pure emotion rolling through his body. It seized his muscles, freezing him in place as he struggled for breath and blinked away tears. Girls. He was going to be a dad. He was going to have a daughter. 

“Ya have no idea how much I love ya,” Daryl muttered, his head dipping low, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“I think I have a clue or two,” you joked, voice as soft as you could make it.

Daryl scoffed, lifting his head and pressing his lips to yours. It was short, shorter than you would’ve liked, but it carried as much love as all the other kisses you’d shared and stolen with the archer over the years. Still, he was here, and he was safe, and so were you. Nothing else mattered except that. 

The horrifying reality you’d thought yourself to be in was nothing but that — a mere thought. For now, you and Daryl were safe. Together. As a family. 

And you knew that, as he slipped the necklace back onto your skin, this time on a leather rope tied tight, there was nothing either of you wouldn’t do to stay that way. 

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[obbystars]

Drown in the Deep

Synopsis: Drown your sorrows away into the deep dark ocean where it can’t be found. Feel its cold embrace and let the water in. Maybe then, you’ll see him again when you no longer feel anything.

CONTENT WARNING: The reader very much intends to die/get themself killed, detailing how they’d love to drown in the abyss.

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / Spoilers for Sebastian’s backstory / Possibly OOC / Established relationship, can be interpreted as either married or not but they are living together / Angst (Hurt w/ eventual comfort) / Death + blood (not the reader despite the synopsis and content warning) / Not really a happy ending honestly

(This is VERY self-indulgent I love hate Sebastian. Also a bit of experimentation and playing around with his character. I’m not so good on romance stuff, so I hope what’s here is to your liking. Also rewrote some parts A LOT due to idea change/read up on lore and realized things didn’t add up here. I think I’ve got most of it covered though. Anyway I love how a few runs of playing Pressure for the first time, I died to A-60 HAHAAAAA kill me.)

Credits: Dividers by @cafekitsune

A chance to be freed from your criminal record, and a reward worth to last for a very, very long time. As they always say, “High risk, high reward,” and the risks were certainly high. You could very much die. It was a chance anyone crazy enough would take.

But you didn’t sign up for this for the reward. You didn’t care about it in the slightest. To you, this would be an easy way out. An escape from this dreadful life fate had decided for you. So here you are, sitting in a submarine with three others in silence. There’s no telling on how deep you’re going, they never bothered to tell you how exactly far it was nor the possible dangers you’ll be facing. You’ll welcome anything if it means you won’t wake up again.

Still, you wondered why things went the way it did. Everything was fine until your partner was framed for a murder he didn’t commit. Nine murders, to be exact. You were there for the trial. You saw and heard everything. You kept your cool throughout all of it. You were hoping, praying to whatever god is out there to show them he was innocent. None of it mattered in the end.

After the trial, you went straight home, not even bothering to listen to your family who was also there. By the time you entered your shared home and locked the door behind you, you stood in silence for a while. You didn’t know what you were feeling at that very moment. You felt hot tears beginning to swell up, and your vision beginning to blur. Your legs eventually give out and you fell to your knees. You muffled your sobs with your hand as you curled up on the floor.

You couldn’t get yourself to calm down for a while. You don’t even know how long you were laying there once you feel your tears dry up and the sound of your heart beating rapidly leaves your ears. You don’t know what to do.

He was imprisoned and sentenced for execution for the nine murders you know he didn’t cause, but that didn’t matter. You weren’t there when it supposedly happened. You couldn’t prove anything. You were powerless to do anything.

Many early mornings were spent struggling to even leave the house, let alone the bed itself if you even managed to drag yourself to bed. You were too exhausted to even try for most. When you did manage to begin your day, you quickly became aware that everything is so much more irritating. People talking to you, certain noises you hear, how your food tastes… You just wanted to go back home and waste away.

As for majority of your nights, they have been spent just curled up in bed and crying until you eventually exhausted yourself. Gripping anything that resembled or had traces left of him and holding it close, hoping just the mere fleeting scent of him lulls you to sleep. Feeling the cold and empty space beside you and being reminded he’s gone, as if the reminders from your family weren’t already enough.

You know your family has been trying to contact you, sometimes even coming to the house, but you’ve ignored them every time. You don’t want to see them. You don’t want to talk, to hear, or to even think about them. You just wanted to be left alone.

A few years had gone by since then but you didn’t feel any better than before. You weren’t sure if you felt worse. Maybe it was because you felt numb nowadays.

Before you knew it, you soon find yourself behind bars. What you did, you don’t know. If you really did it, you didn’t care. You don’t know how long your sentence is, but you don’t care. You don’t know if whatever you did caused any deaths, but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You just wanted to drown in your despair, and this… “job offer” seemed promising. Retrieve a crystal deep inside a facility hidden in the deepest parts of the ocean.

To be so deep underwater to where the sun does not shine, to drift endlessly as water fills your lungs and it becomes so unbearably cold. To where you can’t feel anything anymore, not your body nor your emotions. To just feel the cold water and see nothing but darkness as the water pulls your body to wherever it so desires. Perhaps your remains could become the next meal for whatever lurks in the ocean’s abyss. Your body would never be found. You’d be gone without a trace.

So you signed up, knowing they don’t expect you to return. You don’t either. You don’t plan on getting that crystal, and you don’t plan on returning alive.

The shotgun shell directed at your neck on the diving gear given to you seemed promising as well.

If there is an afterlife, maybe you can see him again there. That sounded nice. You just wish you weren’t sent down with three other people. You never thought it’d be so hard to die in a place where risks of death were incredibly high. Perhaps it was because they wanted to use each other to get the reward for themselves, so they kept each other alive as long as possible. Covering each other’s eyes when the shark was outside the window, turning off another’s flashlight when an odd black figure appeared in the dark, saving each other from the creature inside the lockers… They weren’t going to let such easy bait be killed so easily, not this early.

Still, you strayed close behind as they often checked if you were still there. You kept your head low, until you heard another pair of footsteps from behind you.

Strange… The other three are already in front of you… And they’re just looking through drawers for anything useful.

The footsteps are getting louder and faster. You turned around just in time to see a strangely humanoid, armless figure running at you. It yelped the moment you locked eyes on it, immediately turning tail and running away.

“What the hell was that?!” One of the other expendables exclaimed.

Both of you walked back into the previous room to see where it possibly came from. There was a hole in the wall, shaped exactly like the creature they just saw.

“So they’re really in the walls, huh…” they then lightly punch your shoulder, “Hey, good job. I didn’t even hear it until it made that weird sound before it ran off,”

You say nothing.

“Come on, let’s keep going,”

You looked at them as they rejoined the others then back at the hole. You wished you didn’t turn around.

After a few more doors, the lights suddenly flickered. The one closest to you grabbed you and had you hide in a locker. Maybe they picked up on what you’ve been trying to do. You did willingly look into the eyes of the shark just outside the window, and they had to cover your eyes and drag you along with them. You also opened a locker that was already occupied by a strange creature coated in black and, what you assumed were, purple eyes. You hoped they’d leave you behind to be devoured by it, but you were pulled out and was patched up as best as they could do it. The damage wasn’t too severe, but still. There just had to be a spare medical kit in the room.

Maybe you weren’t being so discreet about it.

There were only three lockers in the room you were currently in and none in the room prior. They pressed on to the next door ahead. You were about to open your locker to step out into the path of the oncoming creature, but it zipped by you in an instant. It was much faster than what you’ve been dealing with.

You hear the others leave their locker followed with a quick flash of the flash beacon. You slowly step out of your locker and follow them into the next room to meet up with the other person. The one in front of you pulled out their flashlight, but ended up tripping over something. You stopped walking as they shine their light over what made them trip.

It was the one who ran ahead to find a spare locker. There was no blood or any signs of injury, but they weren’t moving and their eyes were still wide open. The other two tried to get them to respond, even shaking them, but they remained unresponsive. It was almost like they were just left an empty shell.

You restrain yourself from speaking as you would’ve called them an idiot for giving up a hiding spot in favor to make sure their bait stayed alive for a little longer, only to get killed in the process. Only 27 doors have been opened. Surely not all of you can survive much longer.

By the 35th door, one of them had used a code breacher to open a door without the keycard. Once the door slid open, a large creature with a smiling grey mask was seen on the other side of the door. Before they could react, it lunged towards them and instantly killed them on the spot before retracting their hand as it gets caught in the door while it was sliding shut. The blood splattered all over the floor and even reached you and the other expendable beside you.

By the 47th door, the lights flickered as you searched through a room off to the side. You can hear what you can describe as a distorted chorus faintly echoing down the hall, and soon a loud scream followed with multiple banging against a locker. The noise stopped as you walked to the door leading back to the path you’re supposed to take and you only see the aftermath. A fresh pool of blood and a destroyed locker. There was no body. The creature responsible is no where to be found.

You were alone now. Finally.

You kept your head low as you continued on, not bothering to search through the drawers for anything. Your body is starting to ache at this point. You opened the 50th door leading into a dimly lit corridor.

“Need to stock up?”

You looked up as you see the vent’s cover fall over. You turned around, then back towards the vent. You can see the next door ahead that requires a keycard, but you can’t find it from out here. You didn’t have a code breacher either as the others you were previously with had used them up.

“Come on, I won’t bite,” the strangely familiar voice beckons.

Had he not spoken twice, you would’ve thought you were hallucinating. Or maybe you are right now. A sort of “false hope,” so to speak. Not to mention how you can just barely recognize the voice. You’re having a hard time processing it after everything.

With no where else to turn, you walk to the vent and slowly crawl through. The room was dark, but lit up as you made it to the other side. You managed to get a good look at him, not exactly expecting some sort of fish-human hybrid.

“Ah, there you-” you see how his smile quickly disappears and his eyes widened once he sees you.

You only stare at him, tilting your head slightly to the side. He looked like he had just seen a ghost which wouldn’t be so far off considering what you had to witness for the past 49 doors, but why was he looking at you like that? He cautiously lowered himself down, close enough to your height but still far enough for some space.

You instinctively, though slightly, moved away as his hand moved closer to your face. That was until he finally spoke.

“[Name]..?”

You stepped back upon hearing your name leave his mouth. You narrow your eyes at him, “How do you…?”

Then it finally registered in your head. You’re not just hearing things, that voice was his.

Your eyes widened, now feeling his cold hand against your cheek, “S-Sebastian?“

“Yes…! Yes!” He nods, smiling widely, “It’s me!”

You couldn’t hold back your tears at all. The moment he confirmed it was really him was what finally broke down your walls. The last time you had cried this much was when he was to be executed. You had to hold onto his hand to keep yourself standing. He seemed to sense that as his third limb pulled you closer to him and held you in a tight embrace. You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed until his grip on you got a bit too tight.

“W-Wait, Sebastian-!” You cried, “Let go!”

He gasps, immediately pulling away. You winced as you gently rubbed your arm. You looked up at Sebastian again and smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you’re still alive. I have so many questions. Can I-?”

Sebastian stops you there, “Hang on. Before I get to answering your questions, I have one tiny question for you,” he suddenly towers over you as he yells, “How the hell did you get here?! And why the hell did you sign up for this?! Didn’t they tell you the risks? That you could very much die?”

You jumped at his sudden change in tone and almost fell back. His tail had went to cover the opening of the vent in case you ultimately decided to make a run for it. What do you even tell him? That you signed up just to die? No other reason. How could you tell him that?

“I-I… Well, yes, they did. I just- It’s because…” you don’t know what to say.

“Tell me the truth,” he demands. You swear you heard a hiss in his voice, “Of all people, why did you have to end up here?”

“I signed up for this because…” you paused, “Specifically because I wanted to die. I knew what I was getting myself into, Sebastian. They didn’t tell me anything specific,”

“Of course those idiots didn’t…” He scoffed, “They don’t expect you or the others to return,”

“I never planned to. I couldn’t care less about this so called crystal they told me I was supposed to retrieve,” you looked away, “Honestly, I don’t even remember what I did to end up here… Maybe I did something that killed a few people, or maybe I was framed like you,”

Sebastian calmed down a little and had moved back as you spoke. He repositions himself so that his back was against the wall and his tail would nudge you towards him.

“You said you signed up with the intention to die here,” he then says, “Why?”

You sit beside him as his tail slightly curls around you, “You were sent for execution and confirmed to be dead. I just couldn’t live with the fact that I couldn’t see you,”

His looks at your bloodied clothes and noticed bandages through some of the holes in your uniform. He points to it, “Are those..?”

“It’s from this weird black tentacle creature in a locker. It’s nothing too serious, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

He muttered a name you didn’t quite catch and he quickly moves on, “And the blood?”

You shake your head, “It’s not mine,”

He lets out a sigh of relief at that. It was finally your turn to ask questions.

“Sebastian, how did you survive?”

“Was picked up by Urbanshade before I was supposed executed. Guess they decided it’d be better if I was officially declared dead,”

“And you became this during that time?”

“You could say that. It’s, uh… It’s a long story,”

He doesn’t want to discuss it and you knew that was the case. So, you didn’t question it further. You have a good feeling you may have an idea now that you noticed a document on the table. Whatever was in there might have the answers to most of your questions, but you’re not sure if you even want to read it if he lets you. The mere thought of what could be mentioned in there makes you sick.

There’s still one other that you desperately want an answer for.

“We’re… not leaving this place, are we?” You questioned, not looking at him, “At least, I’m probably not thanks to this diving gear… One shotgun shell pointed directly at my neck, and if I even try to take it off, tamper with it, or leave this place,”

You stopped there. Both of you knew. Sebastian didn’t say anything for a moment, “I can get both of us out of here. I just need more time,”

More time. How much more time before your body can no longer keep going? You want to believe him, you really do, but you really might actually die here.

How ironic. You came here because you wanted to die. You watched the others die before your very eyes without much of a reaction. All of a sudden, you feel your stomach drop.

You’re afraid to die.

[uranometrias]

✮ꜜ : ❛ long time coming : aaron hotchner x fem! reader

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader

summary: after getting hurt out in the field, you're on leave for a month. coming back felt long overdue, that is until your plans with the team lead you to a situation that feels a bit too close for comfort after such a traumatic time. what's worse, your feelings you've harbored for your boss have no choice but to come to light when he makes the odd choice to address you as 'agent' rather than your name after one month of being apart, and years and years of back and forth will-they-wont-they.

content warnings: making out. allusions to sexual assault + r4pe (but only in the context of the case). reader has slight signs of PTSD. anxiety/panic attacks. reader runs into a few pushy men while out at the club. drinking / drunk confessions. reader has a crush on her boss, it is also implied that reader finds derek attractive, and he reciprocates these feelings. hotch is very good at calming reader down. no usage of y/n. reader is described as having shoulder length hair (can be read as a wig/weave) angry/disappointed hotch! reader has been hiding her anxiety / nightmares / memory issues from the team. mentions of vomiting. kissing. mentions of elle & the events of the fisher king. no distinct timeline, but can be read as s7 with the iconic team (hotch, emily, derek, jj, penelope, rossi, & spencer)

"Okay, I didn't know we were going all out. I would've prepared better." you smile shyly as Jennifer pulls you into a tight hug. When Penelope had called you early that morning with an excited decree that you'd been cleared to return to work you hadn't been sure how to feel. You hadn't bothered to ask how Garcia of all people was privy to information you hadn't received from your bosses yet, there was no getting a straight answer when it came to the Technical Analyst.

It had been her idea for the entire team to get together. You'd been out of the office for a full month, and in that time you'd tried your hand at maintaining your bonds with the rest of the group. It of course wasn't the same, but you knew that you'd needed the time. The last time you'd joined them on a case things had gone horribly wrong. You shudder at the thought, you had been doing so good at forgetting about it all, but seeing them again made it all come back.

The unsub had been your run-of-the-mill anger excitation rapist, a creep that had been using an elaborate ruse to entice and entrap women. It had been Emily's idea for the two of you to go undercover, the unsub had been killing two women every week, women who in many ways were polar opposites of one another, a trait that you and Emily shared. Long story short, in the midst of your plan to lure and trap the Unsub, you'd been separated from Emily and cornered.

You’d been carted off by the creep who kept you stuck for three hours before the team used his mistake to find you. By then though, the damage had been done. You remember the look on Rossi's face when he and Hotch came busting in, and found you looking bruised up with a bloody face, and a gun barrel to the side of your head. You'd never seen Hotch quite as scared, at least not since everything with Foyet nearly three years ago when he lost Haley and almost Jack.

You'd been too out-of-sorts to hear the way they'd tried to reason with the Unsub. And you hadn't realized your abdomen was losing blood until a gunshot rang out, bullets whizzing past your head as the unsub curled into himself before falling to the ground. You didn't know much, you thought maybe your eardrums had exploded with the way they were ringing, and you'd half expected to smack your head against the ground and end up with an annoying concussion.

Instead, you'd been met with the sight of your boss. He'd yelled something you weren't privy to, mouth moving as he seemingly forced the rest of the team out of their stupor long enough to get a medic inside to look you over. It was like you said, the details were fuzzy, but nothing had managed to wipe Hotch's worried expression as he fussed over your safety, out of your mind. However, if you were honest with yourself for one measly second, that was nothing new.

Nothing seemed to fill up your mind the way your boss did, and it was stupid, and deplorable all things considered. But it's not like it had even been something you'd asked for. It just happened one day. You shake these thoughts of your near paralyzing emotions away, pulling yourself back to the present as you took in JJ, who despite her perceived candor looked great. "Oh come on Jaige." you huff, and you appraise her more openly. "You look amazing, as usual."

She grins, albeit shyly, and she's waiting, maybe for your approval maybe for something else. She's trying to be discreet as she sweeps your for obvious reminders of what happened, and you feel nervous. Most of your injuries had healed up well enough, and the scratches that littered your face had been covered in a smattering of makeup. You felt comfortable in your pretty girl cocoon, all done up with a bright smile on your face that was surprisingly believable.

"Can I hug you?" she asks, and you can tell she's been holding it in, waiting to ask. You nod your head, a quiet chuckle escaping you as the blonde seems to scoop you into her arms. She's careful not to squeeze too tight, but the love is felt all the same. "God, it's been so weird without you around." she hums, and while the rest of the team is already huddled inside, probably in a booth Penelope picked, you're so happy she's the one here telling you this now.

"Now you know how we all felt when they sent you to the Pentagon." you whisper back, and you hear her bemused giggle as she steps back, and she takes you in again. Your red minidress was a stark contrast to the usual business-casual attire you wore everyday to work. Your hair was curled, pinned back with a gold claw clip, hair just barely ghosting over the divots of your collarbones. You'd opted for a shorter do' following everything with the unsub.

"Never leave us again." she pleads, and you feel this warmth blossoming in your chest at the way she's staring at you, almost like she really means it. You'd joined the team back when Elle and Gideon had still been around. At one point you'd been the rookie, the new girl nobody knew what to expect from. JJ had been right there beside you, even back then. She had been sweet, assertive, your first real friend on the team. She'd welcomed you before anyone else.

In time of course, things had changed, JJ had a husband, kids, a hoard of other units that were plotting on her skills at all times, but she was still JJ. Still that same first friend that helped you to see the Behavioral Analysis Unit was the only place for you. "I'll do my best." you promise, and she grins. She links arms with you before you both head inside the bar. There was music playing, some alternative indie song that wasn't half bad.

"Here's the girl of the hour now." Emily exclaims, and it's clear they've already started tossing back shots. JJ's head is instantly shaking in mortification. So it was going to be one of those nights. Penelope meets you both, pulling JJ from your arms and leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek sweetly, before she's turning to you. She's got tears already brimming in her eyes, and you can't help but giggle at the dramatics of it all.

"I'm so happy to see you." she squeals, and you find yourself hugging back despite the sting of your abdomen. "You look so beautiful." she adds a second afterwards. "What are you looking to get lucky?" she asks, as she uses her hands to push you away slightly, hands resting gently on both of your shoulders. You feel your face growing hot at the implication, and you see the way she's looking at your facial expressions for a signal of your lies. Curse her proximity to profilers.

"I just wanted to look nice." you reply and Penelope lets you off the hook. She leads you to the table, and you're just in time to hear the group finish up their hellos to JJ. She's sitting next to Morgan, who's bright-eyed as he looks up at you. You find yourself fussing with your hair, playing it cool as you press your lips together, re-smearing your lipstick as you waved your hand.

You weren't sure why you felt like the new kid all over again.

"It's good to see you, pretty girl." he croons, and you grin. Morgan was flirty, had been since you met him, and if you weren't so disastrously into Hotch, you think he'd be all on your mind. Well, you know... more than he was. There had been times where you'd been partnered together, and it almost felt like the tension was going to cut you in half. Sexual tension aside though, Derek was your friend.

They all were, and despite what your mind tried to tell you as you sobbed yourself through nightmares during your break from work, they were genuinely happy to see you. "I'm glad you're okay." your eyes flit over to the youngest member of the team. Spence is looking relieved as he too looks up at you with eyes full of relief. He's next to Emily, and she's already downing another drink. She'd be complaining about a migraine the next day, you could hear her now.

"Thanks, Spence." you coo, and you offer him a wink as your eyes fall on the only present member of the team that hadn't addressed you. Rossi had made a point to send his hellos, but due to a previous standing appointment, he wouldn't be joining tonight. You couldn't hold it against him, Rossi was scoping the prairie for wife number four. He offers you a faint smile, the group instantly falling into chatter.

"H-Hey Hotch." you mumble, and he's closest to you, sitting on the outside of the booth as the rest of the team tried their hardest to pretend they weren't expecting this. He doesn't say anything for a moment, instead he takes you in. He wasn't blind, he'd seen you before, you'd always been beautiful, but there was something about you done up like this. Red dress, red lip, bold makeup, and heels that showed off your legs, and accented your model-esque posture.

It was obvious that you were still a bit nervous about being out and about, and you were out of practice with being around the team. He imagined after a bit though you'd be back to yourself. You, and the rest of the girls would be falling into a rhythm in no time. He stands to his feet, much taller than you, as you take a small step back to give him space. "It's good to see you up and about, Agent." and his voice is low, clearly as a courtesy to the bustling of conversation behind you.

"Agent?" you repeat, and the word is so foreign. It makes you take another step back, the bottoms of your Louboutin's clacking against the ground. You looked a bit hurt, but you played it off quickly. "Come on, Hotch. I think we're a little past those formalities." you chuckle awkwardly, and you find yourself looking towards the bar. Yeah, you were definitely going to need a drink. He seems to curse under his breath, but you're not sure if that's due to you, or some internal conflict you weren't privy to. You don't wait to figure it out either.

He doesn't have the opportunity to reply to your correction, because you're looking to Emily, JJ, and Garcia. "Wanna get some shots?" you ask, and you sidestep Aaron, making sure you don't look his way again, as the girls immediately exclaim their agreements. Penelope's sliding out of the booth first, Emily and JJ following her example as they head straight towards the bar. JJ's shooting you a knowing glance as she looks between Hotch and yourself.

"You coming boys?" you extend the invite to Derek and Spencer, who are quick to nod along, both men trailing after the others as they head to the counter to order more drinks. You prepare to follow after them, ready for the welcome respite from your mind swimming in circles.

"I didn't mean to offend you." you stop short, spinning on your heel to meet the gaze of your Unit Chief.

"Well you did." you reply, and your voice is small. "I've known you for almost seven years, and here you are treating me like a stranger." you mumble, and you find yourself tugging at your dress. "I mean, I know it's been a while, but geez Hotch, it's still me." you say and he winces. You're not sure what the last month has been like for the others, but you know what they've been like for you. Torturous. It's been Hell.

"I know." he says, and your eyebrow raises, unmoved by his words. "And again, I didn't mean to offend you." he promises, and he clenches and unclenches his fists by his side. "After everything that happened, I guess I just assumed you'd prefer a more professional approach." he mutters, and you scoff quietly. Classic Aaron Hotchner, running away from interpersonal conflict with his tail tucked between his legs. "You don't even seem comfortable with us tonight."

You blink. Okay well he had a point there, but you were trying.

"It's not that I'm not comfortable." you mutter, and you look over your shoulder at the rest of the team. "I guess I just didn't expect to feel so out of place being out and about." you shrug your shoulders bashfully. "Everyone's normal, everything seems the same." you continue, and you notice the way that Hotch's lips have pressed into a hard line. "And it's like no time has passed at all for anyone else, but for me it's like I never moved." you blink, shivering at the thought.

Hotch's eyebrows furrow inwardly as he takes in your words. "I still feel like I'm-" you trail off, feeling a wide lump growing in your throat. "It's like I never left." you course correct, eyes shutting briefly, lashes brushing against your cheekbones. "Like no matter how much time passes, it still feels like I'm there with him and I'm-"

"I understand." he cuts you off, you think maybe to salvage your pride or to keep you from having a panic attack at the thought. "And you're certain you're ready to come back to work? You know you can take all the time you need." he reminds you, and you are immediately nodding your head as you wave a tired hand his way.

"I can't stay cooped up in my house anymore." you mumble. "It's becoming counterproductive." you huff. "I'm ready." you add a second later. "Apart from this awkwardness, I'm also perfectly fine." and it's a lie, you'd been having nightmares every night. Restless, sleepless evenings full of dread, and jump scares of your own creation. "I mean, I'm here aren't I?" you offer a tight smile as you reach out and tap Hotch's shoulders twice, a tense little conversation ender.

You don't want to stay huddled up with him anymore, not while he was looking at you like he was trying to see into your soul. You turn on your heel, dress swishing side to side as you head for the group. You find yourself in between Emily and Penelope, the blonde to your left immediately sliding a drink in front of you. You down it in a second, the intense burn as the alcohol rested in your chest was a welcome reprieve from the anguish and anxiety you'd been feeling.

You forget about Hotch, and all your heavy feelings by the time you're on your third drink. Your heels feel much too heavy under your feet as you stumble into Emily, the brunette chuckling vibrantly as you hang off each other, the music playing overhead lulling you into a false sense of security. It was nice being like this again after so long, laughing at the dramatic banter between Derek and Penelope. You wondered if they'd remain purely platonic forever.

Trading gossip back and forth with Emily and JJ was always a treat, especially as Spencer tried to keep up with eyes wide as saucers while Emily finally cracked the secrets of her coveted Sin-To-Win weekends. You weren't sure what was funnier, the peeks into Emily's life outside the unit, or the horrified looks that crossed Spence's face with every new tidbit of knowledge he learned about his coworkers. You found your eyes flickering over to Hotch again.

He was stoic as ever, but looser than he would be in the office. He seemed to enjoy being a quiet observer much more than he preferred to be in the mix. He leisurely swirled his glass of scotch, and you felt that familiar buzz of warmth in your chest when you managed to catch him smiling as he quietly passed conversation back and forth with a newly drunk Penelope, and Derek, who looked exasperated.

"Are you just gonna stare at him all night?" you jump a bit, turning to face Emily with surprise swirling in your irises. "If you keep it up, he's gonna catch you." she adds a second afterwards and you tense, head nodding as you scold yourself. You peel away from the bar, drink clutched in your hand. You had to get away from the bar for a second, maybe the cluttered dance floor would be the best distraction.

"Sorry." you mutter, and Emily offers a airy laugh. "He's just usually so serious." you lean into Emily, who nods along. She'd met Hotch after you, but still she'd managed to become so close to him it was almost surreal. She seemed to always know what he was thinking, they were in sync. Unlike you, who seemed to always be on the other end of a hard stare from the man. For a while you just began to assume he hated your guts. Or better put, he was indifferent to your existence.

That was why his look, that look he'd given you as he cradled your head while he waited for backup had been burned into your skull. All that went out of the window the second he'd labeled you 'Agent' though. God, how stupid were you? Emily's amusement makes your eyes roll. "Can I be honest?" she asks, and you nod. Penelope and JJ have migrated to the dance floor, JJ grabbing the good doctor and bringing him along with them. He looks incredibly uncomfortable.

"Sure, Em. If you think it will help." you reply audibly.

"I haven't seen him this relaxed since everything went down." she admits, and you're surprised. As if somehow your presence had been enough to set the stone-serious man at ease. "The first few days after your accident he was a mess." she adds, and she's got a surprising about of stability to her tone to be as inebriated as she was. She lowers her voice some as she leans into you, "He showed up late." she mutters this like it's some sworn secret just meant for the both of you.

"I'm sure Strauss was just riding him about another mishap in the unit." you try, and Emily looks unconvinced and unimpressed with you. "He's our boss, it's kind of his job to worry about us." you finish.

"Yeah, I guess so." Emily concedes, and she looks like she's done talking about it, so you find yourself relaxing. "Still. I've never seen him go that hard against an unsub, maybe you're not the only person that's feeling something." she leaves you with that, trying to keep from tipping as she marched towards the group. You chuckle quietly to yourself, ignoring Emily's words as you focus on finishing your drink. It seemed you'd inadvertently been trying to be alone all along.

You felt some of the tension melt from your shoulders now that you were standing at the bar, away from those prying eyes you couldn't lie to. There's this sound of heavy footsteps, and then the clearing of a throat, as you turn to be met with the sight of a man. He looked to be about your age, cheeks and nose covered in a little smattering of freckles. He's got a head full of shaggy hair that hangs in his face. He takes a quick step, sliding up against the bar beside you.

Way too close.

"Hey." he mumbles, and you appraise him boredly. It's not like he was ugly or anything, but despite Penelope's words you were not looking to get lucky tonight.

"Hi." you offer a dry greeting, shuffling your weight from one foot to the other as the bar seemingly became a beacon for thirsty men. Just as you were politely stepping away from the freckled man, you found yourself bumping into another man who'd slithered up to the bar, your ass pressing against his crotch as his hands wound around your waist. A sleazy chuckle escapes the man's mouth as you gasp. "I'm so sorry." you exclaim, and you're quick to peel away.

You feel trapped though, there were at least four guys, they all seemed to be friends, they all seemed to be in kahoots.

There's a third and fourth man joining the fray, they all looked to be about the same age, height, and weight class. This was probably their routine: approach and overwhelm whatever drunk girl they might have happened upon. It looked like you were tonight's target. "Hey, what's the rush?" the guy closest to you drawls, and you wonder where all your years of training have gone. His arm raises, and it feels like he might hit you so you flinch way too violently.

"Stick around, we'll order the next round." the next demands, and his breath smells like booze. It stinks, and it's hot as it puffs across your face. You almost break your heels backing away from them, suddenly feeling self conscious a`nd way too vulnerable in your short dress.

"No, it's alright, really." you try, and you stumble again. "My friends are right over there." and you point in their general vicinity. "Have a great night though." you offer politely, and you're trying to make your grand escape. One guy, a shaggy blonde haired man is quick to grab you by your forearm, and it's like you're back to that day. Your bureau appointed therapist had been talking to you about your anxiety, how a range of things could become triggers and transport you mentally.

"That wasn't a question. Stay a while." You're stuck, absolutely frozen in place as your entire body tenses up. Some Special Agent you were, the bureau would be so disappointed in you. Your team would be so disappointed in you. All it took to turn you into a pile of nothing was a bit of confrontation. You could remember a stronger version of you, that girl would've had these men on their knees for even thinking of laying hands on you. God, you missed that girl.

His grip on your arm tightens, fingers digging into you harshly as you find yourself surrounded on every side.

"L-Let me go." you huff under your breath, and you crane your neck. You spot JJ, the blonde's eyes locked on yours as the reality of what's going on forces her to sober up. "I just-" and you jerk away, stumbling back completely. You're surprised you don't scream as your glass drops to the ground shattering as glass sprays in every which direction. You feel like your ankle's twisted as you fall back on your ass. You expect to feel the embarrassing thud that came with smacking your ass on the hard floor of a bar, but it never comes.

Instead you feel cocooned by a familiar scent. Strong arms are looped around you, but you suppose your lack of disgust at the action is just a testament of your comfortability. "Are you alright?" it's mumbled against your ear, and the low tone of his voice makes you shiver. All you can really offer is a tight nod as Aaron's guiding you behind him. You don't get to see Hotch in action, not when JJ, Penelope, and Emily are flocking you like Charlie's Angels.

You feel the first signs of the need to barf pricking at you, and you know that you need to get some air. You needed to breathe.

"God, are you okay?" Penelope asks, and you're not sure if you are being dramatic. I mean, it wasn't like they'd done anything really. Now you were gonna look like the freak that ruined a fun night.

"I'm sorry." you chirp, and you miss the way Jennifer and Emily share a hard glance. It's not until you're feeling brisk air whipping around your face that you realize they've taken you outside, and you haven't stopped apologizing. I'm so sorry. Penelope's got wide eyes, quickly brimming with tears as you find yourself crumbling to the ground. Your hand's quick to clutch around your chest as you try to inhale. The dramatics of it all made you even more nauseous.

You should've stayed at home.

"Hey, hey, hey..." Emily's cooing, and it seems being out like this has sliced through her tipsy stupor. She's focused just like she would be on any regular sort of day. "I need you to breathe." she instructs, and JJ's crouching down in front of you, brown eyebrows draw inwardly as she takes in your clearly frantic state. Every puff of air that escapes you is tight and sounds like it hurts. You can just barely hear the sound of a commotion taking place inside.

You do hear JJ's quiet exclamation of "I'll stay with her, go check on Hotch and Derek!" before Penelope and Emily are heading back into the packed building. She calls your name, and it takes a while for you to regain your voice. She's devoid of pity, which you appreciate. JJ knew more than anyone how much you hated being seen as a burden, or someone to be sorry for. Pride was a killer. "Can you try and take a deep breath for me?" and it's then you realize your choppy little intakes of air weren't doing you any favors.

It takes a great deal of effort for your vision to be less blurry. Your ears were full of cotton, and your head was swimming. You feel bile again in the back of your throat, and you jerk away from JJ's reach. You feel like you're suffocating, transported away from the random bar in the middle of Virginia, and back to a place you'd fought so hard to escape. You were certain you'd remember that unsub forever. His evil eyes, the way he tried to use your entrails like paint.

You remember how Elle had changed after she'd been attacked by Garner. How she had changed so much that she had no choice but to step away from the Unit. Would that be your life? You didn't want that life, but it was clear you needed something, you needed help. You couldn't focus on anything else, but what had happened. You'd ruined a night out because the act of being cornered was enough to transport you back.

JJ's still peering at you as if she's waiting for you to start panicking, and maybe you were. "I'm sorry." you huff again, and JJ's shaking her head at you.

There's a deep frown etched into her face as she sighs herself. "Stop apologizing." she insists, and your lashes are wet with unshed tears. "You didn't do anything wrong. Those assholes should've never put their hands on you." she proceeds. "You know that don't you?" she continues, and you don't know how to respond, so you don't. JJ reads you like an open book, and she smacks her teeth. "Well now you do." she says this firmly. "And I'm sure Hotch and Morgan are teaching them that lesson right now." you tense up again.

"I didn't mean to ruin the-" JJ's offering you a hard glare that shuts you up. Another bad habit you'd picked up since the incident. You were working on it, trying not to blame yourself for things you didn't cause. "I'm sorry." and this time it's not because of tonight. "I was so nervous about tonight.-" you take in a hiccupped breath. "I just wanted to prove that I could bounce back." you explain, and it's the first insight you've allowed anyone. "I figured if I pretend everything's normal, soon enough it would be, but it's too much." you huff.

"And that's okay." she promises. "What you went through isn't something anyone's expecting you to forget about in a month, alright? It's gonna take time, and there will be days where it'll hurt a lot more, and there will be days where you're feeling like your old self again." she promises. "What you need to understand is that we-" she pauses as you take it in. "are your family." she finishes, and your lips start to twitch, you're not sure if you'll smile or cry.

"I know-" you proceed, and she holds a hand up in front of you.

"Let me finish." she pleads, and you inhale before nodding. "I don't- none of us want a repeat of what happened with Elle." she says quietly. "None of us want to show up to the unit one day and see your badge and gun sitting on your desk." JJ sighs. "So if you ever start feeling anxious, or terrible, or just like you're back... there." and you wince at the mention. "I want you to call me, call one of us. Don't deal with this alone, alright? Not when you don't have to."

JJ hugs you before you have time to respond, but her words sink deep and make you feel warm inside. "Thanks, Jaige." you mumble against her hair. She squeezes you tighter, and you believe it's to make up for her shyer hug earlier.

"You're welcome." she mumbles back, and then she's pulling back. You don't have much respite, Penelope practically tackling you in a hug of her own. You hadn't even realized the rest of the team has left the bar, you were sure the mood of the night was much lower.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Penelope exhales, and you do too, breathing fine again, save for a few hiccups that escaped you every so often. She lets you go after a beat, and you're quick to take a small step back, suddenly feeling anxious once more.

"Yeah, I'm fine now." your eyes meet Derek and Emily's. "Thank you." and you're chuckling quietly as Derek pulls you into his side. He plants a kiss on the top of your head, and you warm inwardly. Spencer does hug you, and it's a shock. One of those hugs that you never take for granted, because it could be a while before you get another. Once he's pulled away you find yourself still hovering, listening quietly as they all decide the night's not over.

You respectfully bow out, you'd had enough for one day. It's then you notice that Hotch is all by himself. You quietly excuse yourself, but you find that they're not really listening now that you were safer. "Are you alright?" you ask, and your voice is very quiet. Hotch looks up from his phone as if he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. You take in his face, and it's clear he's been in some sort of scuffle. Most notable due to the fact he's got blood smeared under his nose.

"I should be asking you that." he retorts, and your eyebrows furrow in.

"Y-You already did." you remind him, eyes darting away. "Why are you over here by yourself?" you shoot off a round of questions, the wind whipping around, and making you crave the comfort of your bed. You maintain a respectful balance, you weren't in any rush to be all up in someone's space.

"I think I've had enough of crowds for the night." he retorts. You don't realize until it's happened though, your hand reaching up to swipe at the blood that's slowly drying on his upper lip.

"Get into a bar fight?" you ask, and you hold your breath for the answer. Hotch looks down at you, and there's this unreadable expression on his face. You realize that this is nothing new. Hotch had never been easy to read, he was one of the greatest profilers you'd ever met, one of the greatest people. But he'd always been an enigma. His emotions were an Alcatraz all on their own.

"You should see the other guy." the classic rebuttal to a question like yours. It doesn't make you smile, mostly because he's not smiling either. "Are you okay?" and he's got you by your wrist, eyes zoned in on the harsh mark the guy from the bar had left behind. "He never should've touched you." his voice lowers, and there's an annoyance attached to his tone. "I'm so sorry." you find yourself huffing.

"You shouldn't have fought him." you say matter-of-factly. Your fists fold up at your sides, your lips pulling down into a frown. "It'll give everyone the wrong idea." you say, and you wrench your hand away from his grasp.

"Everyone?" he repeats, and he looks confused, classic Hotch.

"Me." you correct, "I'll get the wrong idea." you whisper. "I might actually think you like me." you admit quietly.

"We wouldn't want that." he replies, and his tone is far from mocking. You hate that it makes you crack a smile. You hate that he's always the one that manages to get that reaction out of you.

"Hey, are you two coming? We're all heading to Mo's." Emily calls, and you snort at the fact that their alcohol riddled mind had caused them to forget you'd already declined. You take a step away from Hotch, and you hate that you stumble. You were hating a lot of things tonight. Maybe you weren't as sober as you'd thought.

Aaron looks to you as if he's waiting to see your answer before giving his own, and maybe he was. The second you're politely explaining that you're ready to head home, Aaron is offering to drive you. Derek is whistling, Emily and JJ offering you smug little smirks. Penelope is trying to keep herself secured to Earth. "He's gonna take her home." he whispers to no one in particular, and it's a horrid attempt.

"We all heard, babygirl." Derek replies to her, and you find yourself a bit stuck. The thought of spending the eighteen minute car ride with your boss make you want to scream, but you'd taken a cab. Your own car was parked in the driveway of your place. And he doesn't look like he' taking any goodbyes either way. Rounds of goodbye and see you laters are soon offered. "Take care of our girl, Hotch." Derek calls, and you hear Spencer as he starts to rant about Derek's turn-of-phrase.

Our girl. Hotch finds that the words repeat in his head like an obnoxious echo. "Why are you doing this?" you question quietly. "If you're just trying to make up for the whole Agent thing, there's no need." you proceed, and you take a small step back.

"I'm not trying to make up for that." he replies quickly. "But, you're drunk, and you've been through a lot tonight." he reminds you as if you're ditsy or something. "It wouldn't be smart to leave you by yourself." he continues, and he inhales deeply. He watches the way you watch him, like you're unsure, like you're suspicious. "That isn't a testament of whether or not I think you can handle yourself... and neither was fighting that man at the bar." he promises, and you blink.

"No?" you ask, and your tongue feels extra dry. Like you've licked a stripe of sandpaper.

"No." he reaffirms. "You mean a lot to the team. We wouldn't be the same without you." he says this bit like he means it, and you can't find any trace of a lie residing in his face. He does mean it.

"Thank you, Sir." you reply under your breath, exhaling the word. The chill of the night finally gets to you, and you shiver.

"Can I take you home?" he asks, and you know you're reading into it more than you should. You know what he means, what he's really asking, but delusion was healthy every now and again, right?

"Y-Yeah." your head nods, voice wavering slightly as you take hold of the bottom of your dress. "Yes." you say more firmly.

"Okay." you stand there for a few moments more, passing charged glances back and forth. "You never answered my question earlier." is what he says to break the moment. "About how you were doing..." he proceeds. "I've asked you twice, and both times you-"

"Deflected?" you offer, and his head nods. "I guess I'm just scared you'll see right through whatever my answer is." you admit, and you cross your arms, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Emily and JJ will at least humor me." you explain. "Penelope won't ask... mostly because she's scared of the answer." you chuckle awkwardly. "Derek and Spence, well I guess they're like you too... but you're here, and they're not... so here we are."

Hotch appraises you for a second, but he doesn't say much else. You're grateful for that, but equal parts annoyed that he wasn't leaping to tell you that you were harder to read than you thought. No such luck. Still, you're surprised when Hotch grabs you by your arm, much gentler than earlier, and he's slowing his stride to be in step with yours. You don't realize you've leaned fully into his side until you feel him tense up. He doesn't say anything though.

A win is a win.

You didn't know much about the inner workings of Aaron Hotchner's mind, but you did know that if he was uncomfortable with your proximity, he would have said so. The walk back to Hotch's car is silent. At least outwardly, inside you were panicking. He opens the passenger side for you, and you imagine a world where this was normal. Where it didn't take you being hit on by sleazy men at a bar to be having these moments with Hotch. But it was impossible.

"Did it hurt?" you ask, once the car is moving. He's adjusted the temperature, a soothing warm pooling from the vents. You're surprised at how quickly he drives, you'd half expected him to be one of those slow as molasses drivers. Hotch looks over at you incredulously, his eyebrows raise, but he doesn't look agitated nor annoyed with you breaking the silence again.

"You'll have to be more specific." he replies, and you hum. You pause for a second, trying to find the right words. At the last second you decide saying it straight would be just as good as anything else.

"Punching that guy?" you ask, and Hotch's lips quirk upwards, he was amused with you. In truth, he had no idea what he was thinking. As soon as the girls had ushered you away, he'd found himself swinging before he could think of the repercussions. All he knew was that you'd sounded scared, you'd sounded unlike yourself in a way that made him angry. Everyone saw how you had changed, the elephant in the room was hard to ignore. But you were trying, he could give you that.

"No." he mumbles, and that likely has a lot to do with the fact that he hasn't come down. He's still on edge, still watching you like you might at any moment start spiraling. "Besides, it was worth it." and he says this a bit under his breath, you hear it all the same. "I doubt he'll try it again." he admits, and you feel liberated. It was nice to have someone fighting for you, fighting the fights you weren't capable of.

"Thanks, Hotch." you hum, and it triggers a yawn.

"Back to Hotch?" he asks, and you look over at him confused. You kick your feet back and forth, careful not to dig your heels into the plush of the car's floor.

"Would you prefer I call you sir?" you ask, and he is tapping on the brake, the car slowly peeling to a stop as you come up on a red light.

"No." he answers sternly. "It's not like you." he admits, and the light is turning green again. He steps lightly on the gas, the car surging forward "Especially if you're only calling me Sir, as payback for me calling you Agent." he says, and even though you had tried your hand at pretending the greeting hadn't bothered you, it was obvious he had read right through you.

"Why'd you do that?" you question and your tone is a lot more clipped than you had intended.

"So it did offend you?" he retorts, and you feel anger flaring up. You swallow this feeling, hands balling up by your side.

"Hotch." you snap, and he smirks fully, eyes back on the road. "Can you be serious, please?" you ask, and you probably sound pitiful.

"The last month I've just been..." he trails off momentarily, and you wonder if he's emotional, or just being dramatic. "I should have known better." he expresses. "I should've been there to make sure that what happened didn't." he says, and you tense up. "He never should have gotten the chance to get close enough to cart you off." he completes his thought, and you're shocked. You never would have guessed Hotch blames himself for what happened to you.

"That wasn't your fault." you promise, and you mean it. You'd never once thought of blaming Hotch for what went down. "You were confident in the plan, you were putting your faith in the team."

"There is a very thin line between confidence and arrogance." He rebuttals instantly. "We got cocky, and you suffered because of it." he looks so destroyed as he says this. "And then you showed up tonight, and tried to pretend everything was fine." he notes as you remain silent. "It just reminded me that we're too close." he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "The longer you stay in the unit, the more you become numb to the things we see. You start to ignore the signs that you're not alright." he says, and you'd never thought of it that way.

"Hotch..." you exhale.

"I called you Agent to set up a boundary, or at least I tried." he says this like he's beating himself up. "But then I saw the way it hurt you." and he looks ashamed. "And I never want to be someone who does that to you." you're warring with your heart then. "So I wont do it again." he promises, and he looks to you briefly. "I'll call you by your name, I won't deflect." he adds as your mouth drops open just briefly.

"But, it's not right for someone your age to be so closed off. It's not right for you to pretend to be okay just to keep up with the people around you. If you weren't up to being out, you should've stayed home, our opinions don't outweigh your safety." he lectures you. "They never will." he adds a second after, and he's so sure as he says this. He's slowing down, coming up on your place.

Your leg is shaking slightly, that pesky feeling of anxiety creeping back up on you. "We're here." he says under his breath as if you weren't aware. You don't budge, you can't. You have so much to say, but where do you start. Hotch has shut his car off, almost like he too has a lot sitting on the tip of his tongue.

"I just wanted to prove I could handle it." you admit, and you're crying. "I didn't want to be another Gideon or Elle... or Spence." you cringe at the memories. "I didn't want you guys to handle with me with kid gloves. I didn't want you to see me as the girl who needs the kid gloves." you express honestly, and now your tears are falling in quick precession. "I'm sorry..." you swipe at your face. "I don't know why I'm crying, this is so stupid." you hiss at yourself.

"No, it isn't." the response earns him a surprised glance. "It's good... this is good." Hotch is quick to use a hand to swipe at your tears. He hates the sight of them, but loves what they mean. Your heart's still soft, pliable. You haven't fully succumb to the horrors of the job. "Consider this me atoning." he prompts. "You have my ear, say whatever you need to say." he looks over at you again, and seems to mentally backtrack. "If it'll help you." he adds.

You sniffle audibly, hands clenching and unclenching as the car suddenly feels much too hot. "It's not your fault, okay?" you repeat, and you say it with more certainty. "I just need you to know that." you sniffle again, but your tears keep falling, even as you try to blink them away. "Hotch, you're our leader for a reason, and you were there to save me that night, and you were here to save me tonight." you remind him. "I don't want you to pull back, not when I'm finally making some progress with cracking that hard exterior of yours."

Hotch's lips quirk at your words, and he looks down at his lap. "I've never meant to pull back from you." the inflection with the last words sticks. "I thought I was doing right by you... pulling the band aid off before you got in too deep." he says. "But that was wrong of me, I can admit to that. I'm sorry." and his apologies are like kisses. They wash over you, and force you to believe him.

"Don't apologize to me." you plead, "Just promise not to leave me behind, treat me like an outsider again." you continue as his head nods, and you can trust that he's listening.

"I can do that." he promises.

That seems to be the key to unlocking the dam of your emotions. You choke on the feelings, a quiet sob escaping you as you clasp a hand over your mouth. How dramatic, and pathetic, and God awful were all these feelings. But they'd been years in the making, right?

"Are you alright?." he asks under his breath, worry palpable.

"Do you know that the only thing that kept me from losing it that day was you?" you ask, and your boldness won't leave you, clearly it was now or never. "You told me to 'keep breathing'... you said it over and over and over, and I listened." you explain, and he remembers the day too well. "Even though everything hurt like hell, and there was so much blood." you reminisce. "And I don't know, maybe I'm just crazy, but there was this look." you exhale sadly. "This look you had on your face that made me think... 'maybe it's not just me'"

It isn't. He knows that instantly. You've plagued his mind so severely for so long that he can just barely remember a time where you weren't one of the only things he thought about, worried about, cared about. But he had his post to think about, he was the Unit Chief, your boss, your superior. What would the team think? What would Strauss think? Did it matter? In the grand scheme of things, did those worries outweigh his need, his innate desire to see you safe and protected from harm? Absolutely not. So what was the real problem?

"Hotch..." you inhale deeply, voice cracking distractingly as he gives you his full attention. Something you'd dreamed of, wanted more than anything since the first time you'd ever laid eyes on him. "Aaron." you correct, and you breathe again. "I've been thinking of how to say this... i've been rehearsing it over and over again, because I wanted to get it right, and I just knew tonight would be the night I'd have to have the balls to either say it or let it go forever." you admit.

"Say it..." and he's rushing you, but you suppose that's deserved. You were still stalling, dragging this out way more than you needed to.

"I'm in love with you." and it was out there, and you couldn't take it back. You stare him down, worried about his reaction, about how he would respond. "And it took me getting hurt, and being sent home, away from the team for me to realize." you inhale shakily. "I kept having these-these dreams about that night. All these different scenarios about how things could've turned out different, how I could've died had one thing been out of place." you process.

"You're the reason I'm still here, you're the reason why this team can function, and you're the reason why I- why I came tonight even though my anxiety told me it wasn't safe. Because, somehow I knew that as long as you were here... I'd be okay, and I am." you say, and it's a lot, too much maybe. His reaction is hard to read at first, face just as stoic as most times, but his eyes.... his eyes hold the truth. They melt, pools of warm honey dancing in the darkness residing there.

"And it's inappropriate... and wrong... and silly... but- I couldn't go another day without you knowing, without you hearing from me." you explain. "When you came up to the bar tonight I just... I've never felt this way before... lucky, protected, safe.... and-and I'm not asking for anything from you... I'm not expecting something in return, I just wanted to get it out there... I think we both know it's been a long time coming..." and your words are being swallowed as Aaron leans forward. The middle console is a bridge, a roadblock.

It doesn't deter him though, not from using a hand to gently cup your face, mouth slotting against yours as if it belonged there. You're dizzy, shocked, surprised, but you don't let this mess you up. You can't possibly allow anything to mess up this moment. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two... the seconds tick by with neither of you moving to break the kiss, hands and tongues and breaths fanning over one another as you get acquainted in the most perfect way.

Still, life dealt lots, and yours consisted of a need for oxygen. It's the only reason why you break apart with heady gasps, eyes dilated and fogged with emotions much too heavy to really explain. "Oh, you can't do that." you explain, and Hotch's bemused, eyebrows raising upwards, as his thumb brushes over your cheekbones.

"I can't?" he asks, and he sounds so much lighter now.

"No, you can't. I'll get the wrong idea, you know." you explain, and he smiles brazenly at your callback to earlier. "I'll actually believe you're in love with me or something." you say, and Hotch is slow as he leans back in, a peck being placed right on your lips as your eyelashes flutter, and your heart beats out of control.

"We can't have that, can we?" he's following your lead with the callback, and your cheek presses into his palm.

"I don't know." you answer, and your voice is faint. "I'm scared this'll be a dream." you proceed as Hotch's eyes scan over your frantic face. "I'll wake up and find out that this was all in my head, and the only memories I get to hold on to are from that night." Hotch's lips purse, head shaking in denial as you inhale shakily.

"No, not this time. an ambitious remark. "This time it's real." he promises. "This time I'm here with you to make sure that all those things you felt that night, and earlier by the bar, are how you keep feeling about me." he answers truly. "I'm here to love you back for as long as you'll have me. Is it alright for me to feel that way?" he asks, and your hand jumps up to keep his squished in place against your face.

"You can feel however you want." you reply, and he laughs, a full blown chuckle escaping him as his face seems to light up like a thousand suns. His eyes glisten, twinkling as he looks down at you, like everything was right in the world. And to him it was. Nothing and nobody could hurt you here.

"Good. Then I choose whatever this between you and I leads to, I choose the feelings that come with that." You smile grows to an almost blinding brightness as you reach across the console to hug him, and pull him into your arms. He's quick as he presses a peck to the top of your head, eyes still dancing over you as if he was seeing you for the first time. And maybe he was, that part wasn't your business, all you knew was that loving Aaron was easy, it could be.

A long time coming, but a wait well worth it. Lucky you.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

American Psycho Killer

Summary: Leon S. Kennedy, a man who’s taken his duty of protection very seriously. He’ll do anything to ensure the safety of people, especially the safety of one particular girl.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, mentions of drugs and drug abuse, gore (kinda), death, masturbation (m receiving), smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic.

A/N: I did my research for this as I wanted this to sound a little spooky teehee :3

[part two]

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

Psychopath vs. Sociopath. The popular argument in between psychologists.

Leon never really cared enough to get himself checked out but there were signs. He didn’t feel empathy for others, his moves were calculated and he’s highly educated. He has a well paying career, he pretends to be this normal guy when in reality, he’s psychopathic.

What defines a psychopath apart from a sociopath? Psychopaths, at least in Leon’s case, cannot form established bonds with others. He doesn’t feel guilt or sad when he sees a person die by his hands.

His job already requires him to kill so this was an easy feat. He doesn’t care. He can’t feel anything.

He couldn’t feel anything until you came along.

Leon lived in this apartment complex just downtown of a city in the state. The apartment was big and had security cameras all around. It was well guarded and the people were kind.

When he saw the new neighbor move in, he felt weird. He narrowed his eyes as he watched you from the window of his apartment loft. He was growing suspicious at his behavior. Why did his chest feel warm? Why is his heart beating fast? Why are his hands sweating?

He didn’t know. Up to this point he didn’t feel anything but you brought something to him and it made him uneasy. So he decided to keep an eye on you.

Days passed after you moved in and you settled just fine. The old lady at the end of the hall brought you cookies, a sweet old lady. She talked to Leon a few times and he didn’t think much of her other than just as his neighbor. Nothing more.

But if you were to ask him what he thought of you? Oh boy, he thought a lot of things. Both good and bad.

Being a psychopath isn’t praised in society. Only 1% of the population is considered one and no one knew he belonged to that percentage. And he’d like to keep it that way; his excuse for his behavior was his job. He always left early in the morning and came back late at night. A manipulator and a liar is what he was, and a very good one.

He’s seen you leave your apartment from time to time. You’d take out the trash, went out with your friends- he’s seen everything you do.

Leon isn’t stupid, he’s attentive and observant. He leaves no trace behind of the murder he just committed. The male neighbor across from your door saw you one day when you walked out of your door with a short dress.

The man eye-fucked you so much he literally almost started drooling. Leon cringed and found him repulsive. How dare he look at you like you were some meat on the market?

He felt anger and disgust. No one should look at you like that. No one.

So, one summer day, he made up an excuse to visit him. Something about a water pipe connecting to his sink that didn’t make it work. Like I said, Leon is a good manipulator and a good liar. He always gets what he wants.

The male neighbor invited him in and closed the door behind him. He offered Leon a beer, to which he refused. He found liquor and other substances repulsive. He walked over to the man’s kitchen sink and began to inspect it.

He noticed the man’s sink had a garbage disposal unit. That’s pretty dangerous, he thought to himself.

He walked over to where the man was sitting. The male neighbor was sitting on his reclining couch as he watched a game with a cup of beer on the stand next to him. The neighbor was so engrossed on the football game that he didn’t notice Leon slipping something into his drink.

Leon was smart. Dangerously smart. He knew everything when it came to death- he worked in the DSO, of course he knew some things. He knew the effects of alprazolam and what it does to the brain.

So when he lied to a psychiatrist about his insomnia and got prescribed some Xanax, he crushed a high dosage into fine powder and slipped it into the man’s beer.

Stupid bastard, Leon thought to himself.

He watched as the male neighbor took a sip of his drink and Leon waited. Xanax is a powerful drug, can cause hallucinations and make your brain become a little too calm. You’re bound to fall asleep at some point. And with the amount Leon dropped into his drink, he knew he’d knock out sooner than later.

After a few minutes of “tinkering” with the man’s sink. He got up and went to check on the man again.

And sure as hell did the man find himself in a profound slumber. His snores layering with the sound of the TV.

Too easy, Leon smirked to himself. He put on some elastic gloves and made sure he wore shoes that wouldn’t leave footprints. In case things would get messy, of course.

He poured the man’s drink down the sink to get rid of the evidence. He then thought hard about how he should go about this.

There’s many different ways one can commit murder but Leon wanted the cleanest one. So he came up with one.

He brought pans to the stove and made it seem like the man was cooking something for himself. He partially cooked a stupid egg and left it there. Leon went back to where the man was sitting and dragged him out of his couch and towards the kitchen. Since this man’s place was small, the kitchen and dining area were joined together. He sat there man down on the dining table, which happened to be near the stove. He took out the man’s phone and put it in the man’s hand to make it seem like he was using it.

Leon went back to the kitchen and continued to prepare the scene. He took out bottles of alcohol the man had and poured them down the drain to make it look like he’d had a few drinks. He took a single cup from the cup rack and filled it up halfway. With the cup and bottle of whiskey in both hands, he walked back to the table where the man was sitting and laid them on the table. He took the half empty cup and smeared the man’s lip on the rim. You must cover every single detail.

He even poured a little alcohol into the man’s already parted lips. Leon walked back to the stoved and kept the gas on. Now all he needed to do was wait and let nature do its thing.

Leon walked out of his apartment, pretending to still be talking to the man since there was a camera on the corner of the hall. As the door opened, the camera couldn’t record that Leon had been talking to himself. It made the act believable.

With a smile, Leon walked back to his place and stayed there.

A few hours passed and it started to get dark outside, each resident was inside their unit and ready to go to sleep when the fire alarm began to sound. Everyone was forced to evacuate the premises as the firefighters came to the scene.

You saw as the ambulance brought out a stretcher into the building. Someone was still inside, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened and your heart rate increased. You tried to move but felt someone’s hand on your arm, it was Leon.

“Don’t. It’s too dangerous,” he replied in a serious tone as he stared at you with those cold blue eyes. You pinched your brows together. He was right. If you were to try and save the person, you’d die in the process. You nodded defeatedly and he let go of your arm. He stood there watching you- analyzing you.

You had a good heart, he thought. Too good for his liking. That made you an easy target for people and he loathed the idea of people exploiting your kindness. He vowed to protect you, to mark his hands dirty for you.

As the EMT brought back the stretcher, you could see a person lying there lifeless. All the other residents immediately started to mutter amongst themselves, some started to cry and others gasped in shock. You simply stood there, wide eyed and jaw slack. Leon’s expression remained unchanged as he watched you react to the man’s death. The man deserved it, he thought to himself.

Couldn’t you see that he was protecting you? You’ll come around eventually, he thought.

As the ambulance left the area, the firefighters started to clear the smoke as the police arrived. The police began to do their investigation as the firefighters checked the unit and deemed it good after clearing out the fire and the smoke. One police officer began to make her way to the apartment as the other stayed behind with the residents to ask questions.

Leon was a smooth talker. A trait most psychopaths had. He could get himself out of any situation and he could lie. So when the police asked him what had happened, Leon simply replied with, “I’m not sure. I went to his apartment to check his water supply as my sink stopped working and he lived next to me. I noticed he was making himself some food but I was too busy checking our pipes. He reeked of alcohol and barely spoke to me,” Leon’s tone was different. He sounded likey he spoke the truth.

You couldn’t help but listen to his words. To you, they are true. You saw him walk out of the man’s apartment.

The investigation was deemed as self-manslaughter. The police believed that the man suffered from deliberate alcohol poisoning which caused him to pass out in the process of cooking himself some food.

This made news headlines. Everyone believed the story but they thought the man was stupid enough to cook while he was drunk. Many of the residents believed it, he was a known alcoholic. Leon was never caught.

He was watching you from the window, months after the incident occurred. You had just come back from your college lecture. Leon knew. He stalked you, he followed you.

He knew your weekly routine. Monday through Thursday you had lectures. On Friday, you did work study. And the weekends were reserved for your personal time. He felt proud of you for balancing your life. You lived healthily and he couldn’t help but feel proud at your decisions. He knew you were smart enough to take care of yourself.

He knew the campus you went to, he knew the classes you were taking, he knew your major- he knew everything. But he pretended like he didn’t.

So when he saw you in the parking lot, right next to his car and you had trouble with your groceries, he couldn’t help but feel like your knight in shining armor. With his hardened expression, he asked you in his stern and serious voice, “Need some help?”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, “Yeah… you don’t mind helping me?” You scratched your head awkwardly. On the inside, he found it adorable. But on the outside, he maintained his cool. He nodded and walked over to your car to retrieve the bags of groceries you bought. He was so strong he carried all the bags to your apartment door. You thanked him graciously and invited him inside.

“You can put them on the table, I’ll assort them,” you said as you took of your jacket and hanged it on the rack right next to the door. He nodded and walked over to the dining table, where he put all the bags with food. He took this opportunity to look around your place.

You kept it simple. It was nice, colorful, but nice. You had tons of books on your shelves, he took a mental note that you probably liked to stay indoors. He noticed the way your laptop and a few papers were scattered on the couch and coffee table, you were studious and dedicated to your education. He silently applauded you in his head. He liked that about you. You had goals and ambitions.

“Thank you, again. I owe you one,” you walked up to him and gave him a warm, genuine smile. He looked down at you and nodded again. Pretty smile, he thought to himself.

“It’s no problem, let me know if you need help with anything. I’m a couple doors away,” he replied with his usual serious tone. He remained unchanged, at least to you. To him, he felt like he about to combust into pieces. You were perfect, absolutely perfect.

Days went by and you found yourself talking to Leon more often. Or at least on the days you could. Leon was gone most of the day, he told you about his hectic work schedule and you couldn’t help but feel bad about him. So you decided to make him a small dinner with a note.

You left it on the front door of his apartment and walked back to yours. When Leon came back from work, it was 2:27 a.m. As he climbed up the steps of the stairs, he noticed something on his front door and felt slightly confused. He hasn’t ordered anything. He grew cautious and slowly approached his door. But then he saw your name on a sticky note. He quickly picked up the lunch box and walked inside his apartment.

Walking to his dining table, he read the note you left. Even your handwriting was perfect. The little swirls of the letters, almost writing in cursive made him want to keep you all to himself. He brought the piece of paper to his nose and sniffed it roughly, the paper crumbling in his hands as he could smell your scent on it. He groaned in pleasure as he could imagine your soft and small hands picking up a pen and write something just for him.

Just for him.

That thought alone almost set him off. He couldn’t eat dinner, not with the growing erection in his pants. He put the dinner you made in his freezer and quickly walked to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and unbuckled his belt, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He pulled down his pants and boxers and watched as his cocked sprung freely, hitting his abdomen with a thwack.

His left hand held the piece of water with your handwriting and your scent while his right hand traveled to his cock. He brought the piece of paper to his nose again and closed his eyes in pure delight. Your scent was intoxicating- sweet vanilla with a hint of coffee. He grunted and moaned at the thought of your hands picking writing this note. He could picture your small hands wrapping his big cock, rubbing his base up and down as your scent infiltrated his airway.

His muscles tensed up as the thought of having you in between his legs made his cock throb. His stomach coiled as he felt himself nearing his orgasm. He could imagine your mouth sucking on his cock as he rammed his hips deeper down your throat, making you gag on him. He’d grab your hair and pull you closer to his pelvic area, having his blonde pubic hair rub against your face as you took his cock like a good girl.

He growled your name as he came in himself. White ropes shooting down at his palm as he tried to collect his cum and prevent it from staining any of his furniture. He sighed softly and laid his back on the mattress as he thought of you.

You drive him wild, he’d do anything for you. If it meant having you as his.

And that’s what drove him to kill more people. One day, he overheard you while both of you “coincidentally” went to get the mail from the lobby. You were speaking on the phone to a friend and he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t listening. But he was.

He heard you talk about how your ex is pestering you and giving you a hard time. That you cried last night because you two had an argument while he tried to get back together. His blood ran through his veins as you mentioned you cried.

He’d kill anyone who made this sweet and perfect angel cry. And that’s what his next murder was going to be. He went back to his apartment and began to stalk you again. As a government agent, he had privileges the common folk didn’t have. He was able to run a background check on you and found out your ex. To his surprise, he was your first and only relationship so far. He knew this guy probably broke your heart as your first relationship will always be your worst one.

He narrowed his eyes in anger as he found the man who broke your heart. And jotted down the information he had on him- his address, his workplace, his contact information, etc. Leon found everything thanks to his job.

When you heard news about your ex dying, you were shocked to see that he died from overdose. You’ve never known he was a drug addict, or at least that’s what Leon made it seem to be.

Leon drove all the way this man’s house and observed his routine. Your ex went to work, came back home, and went to the bar. An alcoholic, this made it easier for him.

Leon walked into the bar with his casual clothes, he spotted the man sitting on the bar counter with a drink already in his hand. He walked over and sat next to him as he ordered himself whiskey.

Your ex was already stupidly drunk, flirting up some poor girl who was just trying to talk to her friend. So he’s a creep too, he thought to himself as he took a sip his drink.

Why do you always find yourself around creepy and perverted men?

Leon looked around and made sure no one was watching him as slipped some stuff into his drink. Leon then continued to sip his drink and even chatted up the bartender.

The more your ex drank, the closer he got to an overdose. Turns out if you mix alcohol with prednisone, the effects could be fatal. Your ex would develop a liver damage that could potentially end his life if he kept drinking like he was right now.

It was getting late and Leon paid his tab. It was 11 PM and he decided he should go home. He wasn’t drunk, not yet at least. So he was perfectly capable of driving back to his apartment. But not your ex.

It was nearing closing time for the bar and the poor bartender saw your ex passed out on the counter. She didn’t know what to do but she tried waking him up.

Unresponsive. Her eyes widened slightly as she over to his side and checked for a pulse.

Flat line. She called the police and reported the death.

The police declared it suicide. They believed he voluntarily took drugs and alcohol at the same time.

In your mind, you were in denial but then you slowly began to think to yourself. He’s been acting weird and out of the ordinary when he’d talk about getting back together. It all made sense now. His aggressive behavior, his short temper… he was a drug addict and an alcoholic.

You attended the funeral, of course. And when you came back, Leon had been unlocking his door. He saw your puffy eyes as you had your heels in your hands. You looked like you’ve been crying- which you probably were. Leon paused as he stared at you, he nodded once at you, acknowledging your presence. He then spoke up in a tired voice, “Rough day?”

You nodded as you blinked slowly, “You could say that.”

He hummed in response and looked back down at his doorknob. Then he looked back to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leon himself was tired as he just came back from a tough mission, but he would never be too tired for you. He pushed his exhaustion to the side and would rather take care of your needs for you.

You sighed and nodded slowly, “I could use a drink.”

He invited you over to his apartment and let you sit down on his couch as he took two glasses and one bottle of Jack. He walked over to the couch and set down the glasses and the bottle on the coffee table as he sat down next to you.

He began to pour for the both of you, not wanting you to work any more than you’ve already had.

“Cheers,” you muttered under your breath as you clanked your glass with his and chugged the liquid down your throat. The burning sensation almost making you forget about the mental strain you had.

He watched you as you set down the glass back down on the coffee table. Even in this state, you looked absolutely beautiful. He couldn’t wait to have you for himself. To prove to you that what you needed was a real man.

One thing let to another and you found yourself pinned under him on his bed. Your legs spread open as your knees rested on his shoulders. The head of his cock abusing your cervix, bruising it with brute force as he pulled out and pushed back in harshly. His balls smacking against your ass as his arms caged you under him. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails clawing deep into his flesh as the bed creaked from him pounding into you. The headboard hitting the wall behind the bed as he pulled out and forced his cock back into your tight walls. Your cunt clenching around his member as his hands gripped on your hair, forcing your head up so he could hear your stupid blabber.

He pulled out and rolled you over to your stomach. His left hand gripped on your waist as his right hand gripped the back of your neck and pushed your face down the sheets of his bed as he rammed his cock from behind you. Your ass jiggling as pounded harsher and harsher. Making sure you knew who you belonged to. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

You kept moaning his name against his pillow. Drool falling down your lips as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pleasure. You felt him even deeper from this position. His left hand gripped on your waist as it then traveled down to your ass and smacked, almost immediately seeing his hand print show in a pink and red hue on your skin. The burning sensation of the slap only made you more needy for his touch. His left hand found your hip and forced your body to clash against his as he fucked you straight to bliss.

Stars clouded your eyes as you whimpered and moaned. He cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as it stretched you. It hurt but it hurt good. His right hand gently squeezed the back of your throat, causing you to moan.

“Fuck- Leon- ‘mma cum-“ you spoke breathlessly in between moans and whimpers. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Cum for me,” he pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as he felt you squirm under him. Your body convulsing as your orgasm took the best of you.

Your pussy clamped and clenched around him, wedging him with your juices. He didn’t stop, however. He kept pounding into you as the squelching sound echoed through his room.

He grunted and growled as he felt himself about to cum. He began to speed up and he let go of your neck. Now that both of his hands were on your hips, he gripped the fat of them and forced your body in and out of his cock. Bruising your cervix as your ass hit his hips. The sweat making your skin glisten under the shitty light of his room. You looked even more beautiful when he was fucking you like this.

His hot and sticky cum spurted out of his cock, coating your walls with a part of himself. In his sick and twisted mind, he branded you. He branded you with his essence and he didn’t regret it. He pulled out and heard you moan dumbly as he watched his cum slowly drip down the lips of your cunt to his bedsheet. He’d have to clean them but he didn’t care. He gave your ass a gentle squeeze as he patted your back for you to lay down. He knew you enjoyed it so much since you were on the brink of passing out.

You closed your eyes and felt as Leon cleaned you up. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss on you knuckles. He was grateful to have you.

He wouldn’t mind killing again. Now that you were his in his mind, he’d go as far as killing every man who’s ever laid eyes on you.

For you, he’d become the world’s best serial killer.

[svnarin]

- so like maybe like a fic/drabble/whatever with suna when reader and him get in a fight and reader leaves to like cool down or sum- and reader gets hurt bad :3

idk man it’s cringy and wattpad coded but I like that shit 😞 feel free to decline! ((If rq is 2 weird maybe do a vulnerable moments with him))

Ty for reading ! (I dunno how to reqs I’m sorry💀)

୨୧⋆ ˚ — selfish

warnings!! angst, suna being a selfish asshole, open-ended 'cause it still ended in an unresolved argument, not proofread 😞

note! HI ANON!! this is actually my very first time taking such a request. tbh with you, i've never done that much angst and this is actually the heaviest angst i've done by far, but i hope this can satisfy your wants 😭🙏

FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

“where are you? i can’t find you in the stadium.” 

you don’t want to reply to his message. heck, you don’t even want to open the notification at all. 

it’s been three hours since the match ended and it’s been an hour since you left the stadium, and he just realized that you left just now? ridiculous. 

you stared blankly at the notification until he sent you another one just three minutes later.

“y/n where are you?” suna sent you another one. “why aren’t you reading my messages?”

you were literally about to space out from staring blankly at his messages when your phone suddenly vibrated. he’s calling you, snapping you back into reality. 

you sighed before declining his call.

“at home,” you replied to his message. “i went home early then i dozed off, sorry,” you added.

he immediately replied with, “ok ig i’ll go home now.”

you’re aware that his reply was dry, but like, that’s all? some ok ig is all he can reply? but at this point, you couldn’t even care less anymore. 

around 45 minutes later, you were lounging on the sofa when you suddenly heard the entrance to your and suna’s shared penthouse open. you already know it’s suna. he’s the only other one who knows the passcode to the penthouse after all. 

“why did you leave so early? did you even finish watching the whole match at all?” that’s the first thing he told you when he went to the lounging area. so is that really how he’ll greet you? it made you laugh dryly.

“not even a hello?”

“i asked you first.” he’s clearly pissed off. 

“why are you mad?” you stood up from the sofa, walking towards him. “i was there and i watched your whole match. i know you lost the match, but you don’t have to put your anger on me.” 

“so why did you leave after the match was over?”

“what do you mean? i literally stayed there for two more hours before i left.” it’s true. you stayed for two more hours and waited for him. and for the whole two hours, you wanted to go and still congratulate him for his performance, but you couldn’t. why? because he got swarmed by his fans, begging to take pictures with him and getting his autograph.

you tried squeezing yourself in. you loudly called for his name through the crowd, but all you saw was him taking a glance at you before returning his focus to taking pictures and signing autographs. 

“you literally looked at me when i called your name after the match, you just didn’t bother walking towards me.” 

“wait, yeah, i did see you earlier. sorry.” suna doesn’t sound sorry at all. “still, you could’ve waited for me.”

“rin, i tried waiting for you. i tried calling for your attention because i still wanted to congratulate you even if you lost, you just didn’t bother because you were too busy taking pictures and signing autographs.”

“me just only taking glances at you and not walking towards you as i was clearly,” he emphasized. “taking pictures and signing autographs is already an act of not bothering?” 

“so their attention matters more than mine?” 

“i did not say that, y/n. don’t make things complicated.” you can feel the tone of his voice getting sharper and sharper.

“then why are you making it sound like their attention matters more than mine? you don’t have to take pictures with everyone. you don’t have to sign every autograph they request. you always do this but you literally don’t have to do everything they want. they’re just your fans, they come and go.”

“wait, are you fucking jealous over the attention i gave them? when we literally live under the same roof?” suna laughed dryly, his words making your blood boil. 

“of course i’m jealous!” you snapped, shouting at him. “we live under the same roof but you’re out almost 24/7!”

“don’t you get it?! i’m a volleyball player, so what do you expect?!” suna snapped back. “are you even aware that you’re being selfish right now?”

“wait, selfish? me?” you scoffed. “can you hear yourself right now, suna?” you pointed at your ear. “so i’m the selfish one when all i did was sacrifice everything just so that i could choose you?” you pointed to his chest. “when i literally left my family, closest friends, and career on a different prefecture just so that i could live with you here in tokyo to support you on your own career? when i literally had to skip work multiple times just so that i could attend all your matches? when all i wanted in return was the unconditional love that you promised me when we were in high school?” 

the suna that you’re facing right now isn’t the suna that you knew back in high school. he changed. he changed after being a part of the volleyball national team. but despite the change, you stayed. 

choosing him over everything caused you some damage. you waited and are still waiting until those damages healed. you know it hurts, waiting for the damage to heal for so long, but you also think that if you manage to get it healed, you can consider it as good damage. so, if you will leave him midway through healing, then all the damage will be just damage. but now you know better than this. you need to stop choosing him, you need to choose you.

all the things that you’ve been wanting to tell him just spilled as if a dam burst broken. you can feel tears now streaming down your face. “so suna, let me ask you again, am i the one who’s being selfish?” 

that was the last thing you told him before picking up your purse and then walking towards the penthouse to leave. 

suna just stood on his spot, silent the whole time. realization immediately kicked in when he heard the entrance to the penthouse shut close. he couldn’t move even though he wanted to. he wanted to chase after you, kneel after you, and beg for your forgiveness but he couldn’t move. he knows he fucked up big time. he knows he’s been fucking up for years. 

𝐒𝐕𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 | repost, modification, and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited.

[ceesimz]

Angel

What happens when the team finds out about your relationship? (Autistic reader x Barça Femení)

As always, the other parts of Reverie can be found here. This one gets a bit deep.

One thing you had come to learn about your new team was that they never shied away from gossip. Like most people, they did have their limits, but if it was gossip within the team, especially about any possible relationships, well… they simply couldn't be stopped.

You indulged in it of course, you're only human after all, you just hadn't prepared yourself for the moment that the topic was your love life. And it seemed that the team didn’t really take into account how you would feel about it all. 

If there was one thing that would send you into some kind of meltdown, it was people talking about you without you knowing. That was something that had plagued you as a teenager, and as ridiculous as it may seem to others, it was something that still sent you spiralling endlessly. All you wanted was to be liked and to fit in, whenever those things seemed at risk, it had you scurrying back into your shell and headfirst into a deep pit of anxiety. 

It had been a matter of weeks since you and Alexia got together, and an even shorter amount of time since you had confessed your love to each other, but living in the content bubble of privacy was everything you needed and more. A part of you loved the thrill of sneaking around, like how you both drive separately to and from training only to end up at the other's apartment afterwards, and how you both hide away in the corners of any cafés you come across. 

But the thing is, it seemed the two of you weren't quite as discreet as you thought. 

The morning it all came falling down was the same as any other day; you woke up in your bed with Alexia asleep on the other side of you, facing away as the sun shone into the room and lit up the tattoos on her back like an art display. Not long after you looked over at her did a smile appear, and you couldn’t resist shuffling up behind her and wrapping yourself around her body to nestle into her. Your alarm hadn’t gone off yet and the sun wasn’t fully up, meaning there was more than enough time to enjoy each other’s company before the day that faced you began. Mornings were your favourite, and if Alexia thought she was a morning person before you, you had come along and totally trumped her in that. The world was yours in the early hours of the day, it was peaceful and serene without the interruptions of life as the birds sang and the dew covered the grass. 

Apparently that particular morning was the calm before the storm. 

Alexia drove the pair of you to training, arriving earlier than the rest of the squad and going your separate ways once in the building, Alexia with some media commitments and you with a physio session for a slight knock picked up in the game a few days prior. Nobody else had shown up yet and they wouldn’t for some time, so the possibility that someone might pick up on something was far from your minds.

Apart from the one car parked up outside and the weirdly frequent amount of time spent together and the obvious love in each other’s eyes, there were no signs at all. Zero.

Perhaps you weren’t the only oblivious one in the relationship.

“-there is something going on, Mapi.” Jana smirked as she walked into the building alongside the older defender whilst Ingrid followed behind.

“There is nothing! Don’t ask me.” Mapi put on that classic confused look on her face and paired it with a shrug, desperately holding back a grin that she knew Ingrid would scold her for.

“Everybody can see the way Ale looks at her, and how she looks at Ale. I made a bet with Keira, please.” Jana continued, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, which it was, before turning to Mapi again with a pleading look on her face.

“Jana.” Ingrid warned lightly, more than aware of the conversations that have been had by most of the team but way too concerned with how you'd react to it all. She assumed her teammates would have more sense about doing this about you, but apparently not.

“Come on, Mapi. Just shake your head or something, someone like you can’t keep a secret. And it’ll come out eventually so why not just say it now.” Jana had her arms wrapped around Mapi’s arms, tugging every so often to persuade her. 

“María, don't. Jana, there is nothing going on. Let them be.” The Norwegian gave her final warning, quite frankly tired of the topic and annoyed with her teammates' behaviour. 

It wasn’t only how Jana was acting now, it was the fact the majority of the team had been speculating for some time already, and though she had witnessed their nosiness before, this time around she was far from happy about it. She wasn’t really one to have so much intrigue in her teammates’ lives, she believed if they wanted to talk about it then they would, so there was no use in indulging in meaningless gossip that really had no benefits for anyone apart from satisfying the curiosity of people that had no business being interested anyway. That, added onto the fact she knew you would probably have some kind of meltdown if you overheard anything, meant she was sick to death of others’ careless actions.

However, by defending you, she had only made it worse.

“Oh, so there is something going on? That’s why Mapi isn’t talking?” Jana’s face lit up and Ingrid was instantly filled with dread from head to toe. Before she could stop the younger girl, she was already darting off to her other friends to share the new information. And that’s where the situation reached its peak.

You were more than fine, living blissfully unaware throughout the morning. Alexia was at your side, training was fun and light that day, and you had woken up feeling especially good that morning. Not much could stop you. The exclusion to that was of course the whole team gossipping about not only you, but Alexia too.

“You’re such a liar! I didn’t cheat, you’re the one that dropped your cards everywhere. My eyes were already looking in that direction, it just so happened to be that that’s where your cards landed.” You argued back at Alexia, stuck in a heated debate about how you had apparently cheated at a game of cards with her family the previous night. The blonde tutted in disagreement and gave you a light shove, suppressing a smile at the laugh you responded with.

“Already at the family game nights, huh?” Patri came up alongside you and smirked as her eyebrows raised, before she was quickly tugged away by Claudia, leaving you confused.

“What did she mean by that?” You turned to Alexia to see if she had any better understanding, only to find what looked like a resigned and slightly panicked expression on her face. “Ale?”

“Nothing, cariño, she is just teasing. Forget about it.” Her arm wrapped around your shoulder briefly as she gave you a quick reassuring hug, but she pulled away too soon to make you feel at ease. 

What she wasn’t clueing you in on was the seed of worry that Patri had just planted. Like Ingrid, Alexia also knew how you would react to the team finding out about the relationship before you were ready. To make matters worse, she had no idea what she could do to prevent the secret being revealed because it seemed like the damage had already been done. Sure, she was the captain, but that title means nothing when it comes to her personal life which had already been invaded by the people she thought knew better. There was nothing left to do but watch it all come falling down before her.

Despite the odd teasing remark from Patri, you were still in a fairly great mood. The same couldn’t be said for Ingrid and Alexia who sat at your table for lunch. It wasn’t often that you stayed for lunch, and you couldn’t have chosen a more unfortunate day to stay. Your two favourite people had pensive looks on their faces that stuck for the majority of lunch, putting you a little on edge throughout. 

Ultimately, though, secrets had to come to light at some point. You never planned for it to happen in the way it did. 

“Does the happy couple want to join us for dinner later?” Marta, of all people, asked with a grin as her hands landed on yours and Alexia’s shoulders as she came to stand behind you both.

“Marta!” Ingrid scolded immediately, but it was too late. 

“What? Everybody knows that Ale is wrapped around her finger. Didn’t take long, no?” She smirked down at you, taking no notice of the fact you had completely frozen.

Both Ingrid and Alexia rattled off arguments, trying their best to do damage control, though to no avail. The warning signs of an internalised meltdown were already taking over and shutting down your nervous system – the type of meltdown you knew was coming was sometimes the most exhausting type. Masking on its own took all of your energy, but masking an entire meltdown was a whole different thing. 

You weren’t safe here. There were eyes all around, people you weren’t too familiar with, and nothing in this room, in fact in the whole building, could help you regulate yourself. In only a matter of minutes, everything around you turned into a trigger.

Marta’s hand still sat on your shoulder. Your skin crawled with the sensation of at least thirty pairs of eyes on you. With each second that passed by, the noise of the cafeteria grew louder in your ears even though in reality it only quietened when people realised what was happening. 

Your hands trembled intensely under the table, you were sure Marta would be able to feel your entire body shaking, and your breathing quickened until hardly any oxygen was getting to your lungs. It was at that point where the intrusive thoughts kicked in. 

The cherry on top of the cake in this scenario too is that it wasn’t just about you, it was about Alexia too. So not only were you drowning in anxiety and fear and shame, you couldn’t cope with the guilt that came at the fact you had dragged Alexia into all this. 

Was now the time Alexia realised she could be with someone much better than you, now that the relationship was no longer secret? Now that you and all that was wrong with you wasn’t hidden behind apartment walls and cafe doors, would she be too embarrassed by you to stay? What would your teammates think? You hadn’t even been here for a full season yet, and you had already claimed their captain for yourself. 

Those were the kinds of things swirling around your mind as the world carried on around you, but they were merely a drop in the ocean and definitely not the worst of them. Some were unimaginable, to the point where if any allistic person were to ask what went through your mind during a meltdown, they would be horrified by the things they would hear. You wouldn’t wish a meltdown of any kind upon your worst enemy.

It was too much to handle. Too many eyes, too many opinions in one room, too many ways to be perceived. The only realistic option was leaving. 

The sound of your chair scraping against the floor as you abruptly stood up cut through the tension in the room, bringing everyone to a sudden silence as they watched you leave the room as quickly as possible without it being classed as running away. You had no idea where to go, but your legs were taking you anyway, and at that moment it felt like you were watching yourself in third person. You were in your body, but you weren’t present. Your mind was still back in that cafeteria, thinking and thinking over and over again, stuck in the fear of the fact you had just ruined the life you had built for yourself whilst you fully succumbed to the meltdown clawing its way into your body.

All you wanted to do was go home, to have the measly comfort of falling apart in the four walls of your flat, where you had the safety net of the fact that nobody was around to walk in on you. Instead, you had to settle for a place that still didn’t feel safe and never would. 

Somewhere in your subconscious you made the decision to find a spot away from everyone, ending up in a small, empty and unclaimed office. As always, your feet took you straight to the corner of the room furthest from the door, slumping down against the wall and sliding until you were sat on the floor. Your legs came up so that your knees were pressed tightly against your chest, further emphasised by the pressure your arms gave when they wrapped around your legs. It helped, the pressure your own embrace provided, but it was nowhere near enough to calm you down to a point where you could put a stop to everything happening inside of you.

There, in the safest environment you could find, you accepted the impending implosion, and let it wholly consume you. It wasn’t a meltdown filled with anger and frustration, the type that led to a whirlwind of destruction, but one that had your eyes flooding and overflowing with tears that would inevitably lead to a nasty migraine afterwards. But in that moment, there was no after. A meltdown came with the sense that the world was ending, that there wasn’t a life you could lead after it that wasn’t ruled by the intrusive thoughts which ruthlessly ran rampant through your mind becoming a reality. That really would be world-ending. 

For some time, you weren’t convinced you were breathing. Your lungs felt so constricted by the heaviness that weighed upon your chest that you weren’t sure you could stay conscious. There was ringing in your ears that deafened you almost, adding to how completely unaware you were of your surroundings. Nausea churned in your stomach, though you weren’t in the state of mind to be able to recognise if that was a result of the anxiety overwhelming you or the constant rocking back and forth you were doing. 

In fact, you were so oblivious, you didn’t notice the door swing open, nor did you hear the figure at the door shout down the hallway outside the room to announce you had been found. It was only when gentle hands lifted your head where it rested against your knees that you realised someone was in front of you. And who else would it be than Ingrid.

“Hey, snuppa.” The defender smiled sadly, hating how your face was completely void of emotion apart from the redness to your eyes and the tears still falling continuously down your cheeks.

It was in moments like this where Ingrid realised, no matter how much she tried, she will never fully understand the extent of the struggles you have. As she looked at you,  she saw that your face was empty, anyone who didn’t know would think you were just spaced out or something, but Ingrid knew there was a deadly storm kicking off in your mind. A storm whose weapons of choice were the tears streaming from your hauntingly blank eyes, and the sharp flashes of vicious words followed by the darkest clouds of shame and inadequacy. Nobody else would understand the pain of it, and it killed the defender that she couldn’t do a thing about that.

“I’m so sorry that happened in there. They shouldn’t have acted like that, not without coming to you first. They just… weren’t thinking.” 

Why didn’t they think about me?

“I should have made a better effort in getting them to stop talking about it.”

You knew? Why didn’t you make a better effort?

“They didn’t mean anything bad by it, it’s just them being clowns, you know what they’re like.”

What if they did mean something bad by it?

“Alexia is worried about you.”

I just want to go home.

“Home.” You whispered, shrinking back into yourself and away from the hands that were still on your cheeks. You hastily brushed away the remaining tears with shaking thumbs, though they were instantly replaced by new ones that didn’t hesitate to fall.

“I can take you home, that’s okay.” 

The person that helped you stand then, it wasn’t Ingrid. It was just a body, a face you didn’t recognise in your mid-meltdown daze. There was no longer a functioning world outside the confines of your beaten mind, your senses were completely overwhelmed to the point they no longer worked. An arm was wrapped around your waist as you were led to the car park, but all you could focus on was each step you took. Moving was difficult, so you poured all your remaining energy into making sure your legs could carry you to the car at least. 

Whether people watched you on the way to Ingrid’s car or not, you were passed the point of caring. The merciless thoughts weren’t tiring anytime soon but they had exhausted you, beating you down until you were completely mindless. They had prepared you for your team to hate you, so that was old news by the time you were being guided down the halls and no doubt past their curious stares. 

All of your belongings were left back in the changing rooms, including your phone and your change of clothes and everything else. Thankfully Ingrid was wise enough to know you didn’t care about any of those things now, all you wanted to do was go home, fall into bed, and never leave again.

That’s exactly what you did. The time walked by before you as you watched the minutes tick by on the digital clock on your bedside table. At some point, Ingrid had peaked her head in to check on you and Mapi had come along to drop off your things whilst an anxious Alexia waited in her car in case you wanted her.

You didn’t.

You couldn’t face her right now, probably not for the rest of the day either. It was easier to be the rejecter rather than the rejected. Too often were you the one going through all the pain that came with rejection, and experiencing it at the hands of Alexia might just end it all for you.

Figuring out where to go from here was something that would have to wait a while. Hours, days, weeks, you weren’t sure. It had been a tough day, the toughest in a while. Your last meltdown had been a destructive one – a performance that you deemed bad in a match you put way too much pressure on yourself for was enough reason to get so wildly angry, you had no choice but to act out. That was in the privacy of your own home though, not in a public setting, at work no less. The repercussions of it all were something you didn’t want to face.

So you stayed in bed. For hours, you didn’t move a muscle. The duvet covered you up to your shoulders and the scent of Alexia lingered on the fabric of the sheets, the most comforting mix of her perfume and the conditioner she used when showering the night before. And by the time the sun set, it felt like your bones had sunk into the mattress, as if you’d found yourself in quicksand or had fallen into concrete. There was no way you could make it out if you tried. 

Nothing, apart from being thousands of miles away from the situation you found yourself in, could entice you to move. 

—

“Have you heard from her yet?” Alexia asked desperately for perhaps the third time in ten minutes. 

“No, Ale.” Mapi sighed from the kitchen area. 

Ingrid and Mapi had decided to let Alexia stay with them, knowing that the older girl was probably going crazy as a result of her anxiety. The Norwegian was somewhat familiar with how these things go for you, your alone time to try and regulate was an important step of getting back to being your normal self. However, she also knew that being alone could sometimes make it worse. She was stuck in between those two possibilities, wondering when the right time to step in was. It just didn’t help when Alexia was pacing around the apartment or tapping her foot against the floor as she sat on the couch.

Mapi was making dinner for the three of them, whilst also ensuring there was an extra portion for you if you wanted to eat at any point that evening. They were all worried to some degree, but Alexia’s concern had reached new heights. Last time this happened to you, you were alone for the whole night with no one to comfort you, and that thought made her sick. All she wanted to do was see you at least, then from there she could figure out what to do to help. Yet, she was still inexperienced, so the only thing she trusted herself to do was to listen to Ingrid, the one who had been around for almost eleven years longer than she had. Her patience was wearing thin, however.

“I just want to see her, I-”

“Alexia, listen to me.” Ingrid dropped the laundry she was folding and headed over to where Alexia was. She sat down on the coffee table in front of her captain and sighed just like her girlfriend had done a moment ago. “In her mind, you’re probably the last person she wants to see right now.”

“But why! I don’t g-”

“Listen.” Ingrid said sternly, silencing the blonde. “I know you are worried, scared, whatever. We all are. But we have to put our emotions aside and wait for her. Meltdowns aren’t something that happen to you, they happen to her, so think about that for a second. She needs the time alone to regulate herself again, to allow her body to rest. It might not have looked extreme, but trust me when I say it was. Her own mind was attacking her but because she was in public, she forced it down and hid it. It’s so intense, when that happens, it’s not just a mental thing but a physical thing too. You have to remember that what she experiences is so different to anything we will ever know, so everything from this point on has to be on her terms. Okay?”

No matter what anyone said to her in that moment, Alexia knew she wouldn’t feel at all at ease until she saw you. But Ingrid’s words did help, even if it was only the tiniest bit. It settled her because most of all she trusted you. 

Once in the past, you had told her that your meltdowns were something that made you feel so out of control that you’d do anything to regain it back, to have some sense of the world again. Even if that meant extreme measures. That was the young, scared version of you though, you had told her. As an adult now, you were a lot… safer in your recovery methods. And she trusted you, she did, she just couldn’t help but feel sickeningly worried. Nobody could really blame her, it wasn’t a comforting thought to know she was in the same building as you, and yet there wasn’t a thing she could do other than wait it out.

“I… I love her though.” She knew her arguments were futile, but it felt better than sitting there and doing nothing.

“You love her?” Mapi asked in disbelief, followed by a tut from Ingrid.

“I love her. She knows that, right?” The blonde turned to the woman in front of her with a desperate look on her eyes.

“She does. She does, Alexia, and I know for a fact that she does.” Ingrid placed a hand on Alexia’s bouncing knee and squeezed it reassuringly; she understood how her captain was feeling, she’d been in her place plenty of times before. 

“I just want to take it all from her so she can feel better, so she knows I love her and I don’t blame her for today.” Alexia mumbled, fidgeting with the drawstring of her training shorts that she still hadn't changed out of. 

“I know. It's hard, but these are the times where she needs us by her side the most.” Ingrid stated quietly, hoping Alexia understood the gravity of her words.

“Forever, Ingrid, I will be by her side forever. I swear it.” Her eyes had gone wide and her shoulders had lifted up into a shrug to emphasise her promise. Ingrid didn't doubt her for a second.

As much as she tried to resist, as the evening dragged on, Ingrid’s patience started to wear away. Her concern was beginning to override her adamance to give you the space she thought you needed. She could tell, as she glanced around the quiet room save for the scraping of cutlery against ceramic, that Alexia and Mapi felt the same way. 

Alexia hardly moved from her spot in the corner of the sofa, staring out of the window as her leg bounced anxiously. Mapi didn’t know what to do with herself, because even though she wouldn’t really play a major part in helping you come down from the state you were in, bar a few terrible jokes here and there, her world fell off-kilt knowing you were enduring such an awful time. You weren’t as close with her as you were with Alexia and Ingrid, obviously, but she still saw you as such an important figure in her life that nothing was the same without you. She loved your near constant joy, you were quite possibly the happiest person she’d met, and that was a big statement coming from someone like her. Your glee was infectious, and she was certain that everybody felt the same kind of unease when you weren’t yourself.

The silence throughout the apartment that settled after dinner was so discomforting that waiting simply wasn’t cutting it anymore. Almost as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, they all hit their limit. It had been hours since anyone had seen or heard from you and waiting simply wasn’t cutting it anymore. No one was brave enough to say it though. If they all marched up to your apartment, god only knows what reaction you would have. Nobody wanted to be the person that broke your trust. 

It was Alexia that decided to take that risk. 

“What if I went and checked on her?” She broke the silence and glanced around nervously at the other two, who then looked at each apprehensively. “If she kicks me out, I will leave. But I cannot sit here and do nothing any longer. It’s killing me.”

A few thoughtful moments passed by, before Ingrid groaned quietly and buried her face into her hands. At that, Mapi pursed her lips and answered for her.

“I think there is nothing else we can do but try.” The shorter defender answered diplomatically, nodding as she spoke. “The spare key is on Ingrid’s keys.”

“Ingrid?” Alexia asked. It was important to her that she had Ingrid’s trust as the Norwegian had dealt with this countless times over the past decade.

“Yes. Go. Please be patient with her.” She pleaded in a fearful voice. At that, the Barcelona captain jumped up from her seat and went to leave instantly. 

In the weirdest way, it was hard for Ingrid to hand over this responsibility. Other than Mapi, you were the most important person in her life. She had been the person you go to for nearly eleven years – she had seen you at your worst and recently she’d seen you at your best. But with the introduction of Alexia into your life, as overjoyed as she was for you, it came with a strange sense of loss. Rationally she knew you were going nowhere of course, and yet she mostly felt… sad. It felt a little pathetic to her, that she thought of it like that, she just couldn’t help it. Mapi sensed her girlfriend’s feelings and moved to sit by her side immediately to comfort her, meanwhile Alexia couldn’t get out of the door quick enough.

Instead of taking the elevator, Alexia ran straight to the stairs and made her way up to your floor in mere seconds. The keys rattled in her hands as she headed to your apartment, and her hands shook as she tried to find the right key to unlock your door. When she missed the keyhole a couple times, she took a deep breath to calm herself and rolled her shoulders a couple times. In that split second, she knew, had you been there, you would have laughed at the slightly dramatic scene. As odd as that may seem, that little thought calmed her anxiety the tiniest bit, and with a final breath out, she unlocked the door.

Unsurprisingly, the lights were off in the apartment and the curtains were drawn, your way of blocking the world out. There wasn’t a sound, and her footsteps bounced off the walls as she walked through the flat until she reached your bedroom door. She knocked on quietly, trying not to disturb the apparent peace.

“It is just me, Alexia. May I come in, engel?” 

Exactly as she expected, she got no response. That was better than getting kicked out, she supposed.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

She opened the door and walked in on a scene that wasn’t so unfamiliar anymore, and she figured she best get used to it anyway if she planned on sticking around. You were on your side, facing away from the door, like you were when Ingrid had been the one to check on you the last time this happened. Even as she padded over to where you lay, she got no reaction. It wasn’t until she cautiously sat on the carpet, her back against the bedside drawers with her head turned towards you, that she confirmed you weren’t asleep. 

Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see you were awake and staring absentmindedly straight ahead, through her even. Last time, she didn’t see this part of you. She only saw the by-product of Ingrid’s support and love. This was something that sent chills through her, not out of fear or intimidation or whatever, but because of the overload of emotions she felt at the sight. Never in her life had she felt such pain for someone else.

“Hi, amor.” She whispered. Truthfully, she had no idea what to do, or where to start. Rather foolishly, she had underestimated the whole thing. “Um… I didn’t want to leave you on your own any longer. I wanted to come check on you.” 

Normally, with everything Alexia did in her life, she had the confidence in knowing what she was doing and exactly how she was going to do it. This situation was something entirely different. But, if she was going to learn to do better for you when things like this happened, there was nothing she would rather do in this scenario than try. 

“Ingrid told me once that sometimes just sitting with you helps with the thoughts you have, so… I will wait here as long as you want me to. I love you.” 

She didn’t want to overwhelm you, but at the same time she couldn’t bear taking her eyes off of you. Just being by your side had eased some of her anxiety. She hoped it did the same for you.

“Today was a bad day, but that’s okay. Bad days are okay. You can come back from them. I remember you telling me that when this happens, it feels like the world is ending. I know I can’t stop your meltdowns but I will always be here to remind you that I love you more than anyone else I have ever met. And that people in your life adore you so much that nothing could change that. You are just you, all the time, and that might be my favourite thing in the world.”

The midfielder found herself rambling, which wasn’t something she did very often at all, but the words flowed continuously. Whether you could hear her or were taking anything she said on board, she didn’t mind. 

Fortunately, you could hear her, and you were taking everything she said and holding onto it for dear life. With each word she spoke, you felt yourself coming back more and more. Those voices had been shut out by Alexia’s tentative rambling. The tears that you knew would drop any second were the first sign of you becoming somewhat lucid again. 

“I am not angry or upset with you. Today wasn’t your fault. Not the outing, not the teasing, not the meltdown. You were just a passenger in it all, yet you got the worst of it. You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“No.” Your voice was hoarse and hardly there when you spoke, and even though it was a short single syllable you uttered, it still cracked with emotion.

Alexia almost flinched at that, having not expected it at all.

“Hm?” She hummed, shuffling a little closer to the bed if that was at all possible.

“No sorrys.” You murmured. Alexia frowned, and she itched to reach out and stroke through your hair or cup your cheek or do anything to comfort you.

“Okay.” She nodded, unsure of what else to do. To scratch that itch from a moment ago, she brought her legs up and crossed her arms over her knees, a few fingertips of one hand outstretched to rest on the edge of the bed. “I… I don’t want you to feel guilty. I think, in the end, maybe it was only a matter of time before everyone found out about us. They shouldn’t have acted so nonchalantly about it, but I also don’t think we hid it too well.”

“You don’t have to be here.” You completely ignored what she had said, too focused on your shame instead. Shame that stemmed from the events back at the cafeteria, at not only having a meltdown which brought those feelings on anyway, but having one in front of your whole club. This one felt so much more complex than any others you’d had in a while.

Alexia’s resolve broke then – one of her hands cautiously reached under the duvet to find the hand of yours that wasn’t resting underneath your head. She found it, balled up tightly against your chest, and with both of her hands now, she unclenched it and covered it, gently bringing it to her mouth so she could press repetitive, soft kisses against your skin.

“I don't have to but I want to. I need to, for myself, because you are my girlfriend and I need to make sure you are okay. I love you no matter how you feel, and even if me being here doesn't make you feel much better, I'm just glad I’m here.”

Something about that struck a nerve. Before you knew it, those brewing tears made themselves known as they fell steadily. Alexia dropped your hand, which caused a brief moment of panic for you, until she rose to her knees and her hands landed delicately on your face instead. Her lips brushed against every tear that fell, kissing each one before leaning her forehead against yours.

“I love you. I don’t want you to ever doubt that.” She whispered, because some part of her knew that it was her portrayal of her adoration that had finally cracked you. 

It was exactly that. No matter how many times it was said, there was just some embedded insecurity within you that couldn’t accept it when you didn’t love yourself like this. Perhaps it would stay with you for life, but that didn’t seem so horrifying if Alexia reacted like this everytime the worst part of yourself was so clearly on show.

“You do make me feel better.” You manage to choke out in the midst of your sobs. 

Alexia couldn’t bear the feeling of not having you in her arms whilst you were crying so heavily, so she moved away only for a second before you felt the bed dip behind you. Then, she was gently urging you to roll over, which you did immediately. Her arms engulfed you entirely, and the pressure from her hug was so much more comforting than that of yours earlier in that heartless office. 

She let you get it all out, even if it did take a while, but even when your sobs had subsided, she didn’t move a muscle. For that, you were grateful. Being wrapped up and held tightly by her, your face buried in her chest, was so much better than laying on your own with nothing but the intrusions in your mind.

And when your thoughts cleared, you gained an ounce of clarity again. Neither of you spoke, but there had been enough emotions in the day that there wasn’t any need for them. There was just one thing that you had realised, the brightest silver lining: Alexia loved you. Truly and wholeheartedly, even if you didn’t understand it. Sure, she had said it in the past and shown it in various ways, though none of those occasions could ever live up to this one.

This one was her accepting the worst part of yourself. This was her sticking by you when you knew it was the hardest time to stay. This was it.

Having your relationship exposed might have seemed like the end of the world at the time, and though that thought hadn’t completely left yet, it had given way for two much better realistions. Firstly, Alexia loved you. And secondly, apparently you can’t mask love.

“It really was quite obvious, wasn’t it?” You would grimace the next morning when the pair of you ate breakfast in bed together. Your girlfriend, the woman that loved you, turned to you with an equally pinched face and you stared at each other for a few moments, until you broke out into laughter about it all.

That was the thing with Alexia – she made it all brighter and so, so much easier.

—

because what else do autistic people struggle with than the opinions of others 🫠 writing about a meltdown is hardddd so this took a lot for me to write, it's more than just writing anxiety when it comes to posting this one. it's depicting the part of myself i hate most. it's an unexplainable, awful awful experience but anyway i hope my words did it justice, i'm not sure about it but i hope you liked the story regardless 🫶🏼🧡

[msmorningstaarr]

let me be yours | part II

ao3 | masterlist | < part I |

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x f!Martell Reader

Word count: 6.6k

Summary: You, a Martell princess who was recently brought into Rhaenyra's courtyard as a sign of goodwill to ensure the unification of the Seven Kingdoms. With time passing on, you feel trapped under the enticing aura of the Dragon Queen and sees yourself desiring her more and more. However, in a delicate situation, is it worth the yearn for your Queen? Would you give in to your needs to have your way with her and find some indulgence?

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), afab reader, bisexual rhaenyra, canon divergence, longing, age gap (you early 20s rhae mid 30s), fingering, masturbation, oral sex, sub/dom dynamics (rhae dom you sub), overstimulation, scissoring, queen rhaenyra targaryen, nipple play, possessive rhaenyra

a/n: well, it’s been a long time since I don’t post a fic here and I was considering seriously ending my blog (i still do low key and end totally my last social media but let’s ignore that) but I have fun here and I love sharing my stories with you guys. thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoy it <3 comments, reblogs, likes are very much appreciated.

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody @pet1t3

The next day, Rhaenyra summoned you to visit her again, and you brought your cloak to show her the sewing and embroidery you had completed. Her praise for your work and dedication was effusive, each word like a sweet melody to your ears. As she examined the intricate stitches and delicate patterns, her hand would occasionally brush against yours, a gentle touch that sent a thrill of warmth through your entire being. These fleeting moments of physical contact spoke volumes, conveying an unspoken tenderness and connection between you.

Her gaze remained as intense as ever, locking onto yours with a depth that stirred both admiration and longing within you. There were times when she leaned in closely to speak, her words brushing against your ear with an intimacy that left you breathless. Occasionally, she would press a lingering kiss to your cheek or temple, the softness of her lips leaving an indelible impression.

Each gesture, each touch, each word of affection stirred a flurry of emotions within you. You found yourself wondering if Rhaenyra's actions were merely those of a caring future mother-in-law, or if they hinted at something deeper, something that mirrored your own feelings. The uncertainty added a bittersweet edge to your interactions, blending desire with apprehension as you navigated the delicate dance between duty and desire in her presence.

And each night, you would touch yourself thinking about Rhaenyra.

Finger twirling around your clit.

Daring to play with your entrance.

Mumbled words desperately calling for your Queen.

Fingers down on your cunt until you come undone on your fingers.

Wishing it was on hers.

But after almost a month of engaging in your own pleasure, it came ahead of you the unstoppable moment of your life: your wedding. You remember yourself being a little princess in Dorne, waiting and counting your days to know how long it would take until she would be wedded to someone and there you were, now dreading this moment.

You wished to fulfil your fantasy, you wished to have a way with Rhaenyra. How could you marry her son and still think of her, every night? Marriage is just a piece of paper, Rhaenyra well said, however, would you ever be willing to be the one who brings pleasure, true pleasure, into your life?

There you were, five days away from your wedding, knocking on Rhaenyra’s door to spend your time with her. This time, she asked you to come in your evening garments, a cream nightgown with long, tight sleeves. Your hair was loose and carried no jewellery on your body. The Queen opened up her door for you with a soft smile, signing you to go inside her bedchambers.

“Your Grace.” You courtied her, bending your knee. Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows, silently remembering you of her wish. “Sorry, Rhaenyra. I cannot help but treat you as you deserve.”

Rhaenyra held a smug smile after hearing you call her by her title. Her hands reached yours and entangled your fingers, greeting you in a more intimate manner. “Then as your Queen, I command you to call me by my name, little sun.” The Queen beamed at you, mischievously with her faint, playful smile. You laughed, although still a bit shy. “I apologise for summoning you in the night, my darling.” She began, walking throughout her room.

You followed her and one of her QueensGuard closed the door behind you and finally left the both of you alone. You were nervous, joining your hands on your back as you followed her, trying to disguise your anticipation around Her Grace. “I could not fall asleep and felt in need of your company. You lift my spirits.” The Queen said, sympathetically. Your eyes sparkled as she praised you, heart beating in anticipation and having a weird sense of validation, hence her sweet talk. “I hope I have not interrupted your sleep.”

As if you could ever go slumbering without touching yourself to the thought of Rhaenyra. You beamed briefly and shook your head, finding you a place to stay still, right after Your Grace. “You did not, as I myself have also been in some trouble finding my own sleep, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra looked at you after a long sigh and her eyes seemed more relaxed when around you. She looked so beautiful in that blue nightgown, honouring her mother, a Lady of Arryn. Her hair was long and thick, she took great joy in braiding it before sleeping, but you would rather see it all loosen down, giving her a more human aspect to her godly, ethereal appearance.

Rhaenyra approached you, involving your hands on hers and grinning, which you grinned back before she led you towards a small table with a jar of wine with two goblets beside it. “We barely had time these days to share our daily moments. It is a shame.”

You started drinking by the same window Rhaenyra teased you, being bathed by the moonlight, Rhaenyra seemed even more stunning when in a more natural state. Rhaenyra drank her own wine but her eyes were locked on you, as it would always be. “I have been missing you, but with the current state of your wedding, we have both been quite busy lately.”

You nodded, positioning your cup on the window to lean your chest over it, watching from afar the lights of Flea Bottom. You didn’t know what to feel or think about it. You had so much time to spend with Jace and he seemed polite, but rather distant from you.

Maybe it was your fault, you should stay away from the Queen’s web, perhaps make more effort to be in acquaintance with your betrothed before the actual wedding. It was a rare thing, to live amongst your future husband, could give some default to the life ahead of you. However, you wasted it. “What troubles your sleep this evening, my sun?”

Your hands were sweaty again, your eyes lowered, looking to the immensity of darkness on the ground. Rhaenyra grabbed your face with her hands and smiled, as a sign of her affection. “I am nervous, Rhaenyra, I must admit.” You started, hesitant. “I have been thinking about what you told me in a former encounter of ours.”

Rhaenyra stared at you, intrigued. Her eyes narrowed, trying to recall their older gatherings. “You have?” Rhaenyra said with a hint of surprise in her eyes. The Queen looked at you with curiosity, trying to remember the words she said in the last moments they shared together. “Continue, dear.” Rhaenyra encouraged you with her gentle smile and her eyes still on yours.

“About marriages, duties and happiness…” You started, taking a smirk from Rhaenyra. Her fingers caressed your chin after squeezing it gently.

“Ah, those words, yes.” Rhaenyra chuckled, nodding her head. She gently cupped your face with her hands, her fingers caressing your cheeks. She took a step forward, standing very close to you.

“That was... very interesting of you to bring it up again.” The woman hummed, staring into your eyes.

You hummed yourself, feeling her lavender oil scent invade your nostrils and involuntarily, you bite your lower lips, feeling the heat grow ridiculously fast as Rhaenyra preyed on you, like a dragon seeking out its food. “And why does Your Grace find it interesting?”

Rhaenyra smiled down in amusement, watching your teeth sink into your lower lip. She traced her thumb over your lower lip, tugging slowly to free it from your teeth. She looked into your eyes, her pupils wide and full of lust.

“Because... I wonder if you remember the words I said that evening…” She said, almost whispering it to you and she leaned in closer.

Your mouth went dry instantly with the pace the gap between your bodies was closing. You remembered it more than well, but lacked the confidence to say it out loud. Not for not trusting in her, but mostly out of fret for what could happen now. She was too close to the pyre and the chances of being burned were immense. Either way, you said it. “A marriage is just a piece of paper.” You mumbled, breathing against her fair skin.

Rhaenyra chuckled lowly, her eyes slowly moving all over your face. She took the time to take in your expressions and your reactions to her body being so close to yours. She saw the way your throat moved slightly when you swallowed. The Queen took another step forward, feeling your chest against her own. She could feel your heart beating against your chest and she had no doubts that you could feel hers too. Rhaenyra could almost feel your breath against her lips as she let out a soft hum. “Correct.” She said, quietly.

“Once we are in a marriage, we can still have our… preferences. I learned it well with my late husband,” Rhaenyra traced her fingertips on your soft lips, attentively staring at it. “Bedding is not the biggest of your problems, my dear, but the lack or opportunity to be vulnerable. It can be the greatest of our strengths or weaknesses.”

Rhaenyra introduced your thumb within your mouth and instinctively, you suckled on it and closed your eyes as she spoke. Your warm tongue licked and pulled her thumb closer in a sultry move. Your cunt was soaked, dripping for Rhaenyra. “Open your eyes and look at me.” She softly commanded and you immediately complied. Your reaction encouraged her and her thumb gently moved under your bottom lip. The silver queen gently brushes it across the plump surface.

“How can something so flawless and beautiful exist in this world?” Rhaenyra muttered to herself. Her gaze never leaves your face. It was surreal, was it really happening to you? Your head was free of thoughts, only living in the present and wanting more of that enticing woman. “You see, you make me quite vulnerable to you. I wonder if you will make a strength or a weakness out of it.”

Then, Rhaenyra got closer. Now, the fabrics were much thinner than the other dresses both women wore. You could feel the swell of her breasts, her waist glued against yours, her breath close to you again. You startled, feeling her fingertips grazing on your skin, gently and superficially.

Once the Queen took off her finger and muttered her words, you opened her eyes and stared at Rhaenyra. “You think this highly of me, Your Grace?” You asked, muttering back.

“A woman as beautiful as you has no right to exist. Perfection itself. An artwork the Rhoynar Gods made to torture men.” Rhaenyra muttered back, as her fingers traced along your soft jaw and down the side of your neck, feeling your pulse. “And they have. A vision so perfect and lovely has tempted me like no other. A true flower of the desert." Rhaenyra whispered.

“Do I tempt you?” You asked again, whispering as well. Your figures were now pressed against each other. Rhaenyra moved her head up a little, her lips ghosting over yours, not yet kissing, but close enough to feel her breath on your skin as she spoke.

Rhaenyra chuckled and lifted her chin slightly, feeling your body shiver slightly against hers as you let her touch travel down on your nightgown.

The material was soft and thin, doing a terrible job to hide how much it was affecting you. The blonde hummed when she felt your body shuddering under her touch. The Queen let her hand slide behind your waist, enjoying the heat of your skin under her touch.

“You have no idea of the power you hold, my sweet girl. No idea of how weak I am for you.” Her words caused you to silently gasp in front of her, you gave in entirely to Rhaenyra, your dream was coming true and fear grew as arousal spread through your body.

“Why do I make a weak of you?” You asked your possible lover, granting yourself the benefit of the doubt as you played naive for the cold truth: she wanted you as much as you wanted her.

“Because I long for you.” Rhaenyra muttered, still running her thumb gently across your bottom lip. She couldn't help but stare down at the mouth of this sweet thing. Just the thought of her kissing you was enough to send you the edge. The temptation was too much to bear.

“I long for you too, my Queen.” You finally admitted, mumbling at Rhaenyra. Ever since you landed on King’s Landing to be warded by the Queen, you find herself daydreaming of kissing her lips and being her own little Queen.

“Is that so, sweet girl?” Rhaenyra’s voice was low and sultry, her eyebrow arched in a mixture of curiosity and desire. A soft smile played on her lips as her thumb gently traced the contours of your plump, soft lips. Each stroke sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

Every time she looked at your lips, a deep hunger ignited within her, a yearning to taste you and make you hers in every sense. Your gaze lingered, filled with a fierce determination to claim you as her own, to explore every inch of your being and etch her presence into your soul. The moment hung heavy with tension and unfulfilled desire, as if the world itself paused to witness the profound connection between you.

“I wish I could be yours." You reply, your eyes burning desire for Rhaenyra. You pay no mind for any liability; you care not that she is your Queen, the mother of your future husband, a woman. You wanted Rhaenyra.

“You can.” Rhaenyra muttered. She brought her other hand to your face, making sure to be completely focused on every part of you, taking in everything about you. Every part of her was perfect. As her thumbs trace over the soft flesh of your face, her eyes flicker down to your parted lips and she cannot help but gaze down to them, feeling the need to feel them on hers. “Just say the word.”

You touched the hand of Rhaenyra that was resting on your face and bit your lips again while listening to Her Grace. Submissively, you replied. “Let me be yours, Your Grace.” You mumbled, in a disguised begging for Rhaenyra to claim you, to have her way with you.

The eyes of Rhaenyra brightened and she was in total bliss. Hearing your sweet words in that pretty mouth, in that sensual tone, was like music to her ears. Rhaenyra leaned in close while both her hands gently held your face. Her nose gently brushed your own and she looked deep into your eyes.

“You are mine. My sweet girl.” Rhaenyra whispered as her tongue gently traced over your lip. She was close. You moaned lightly and she hummed with your reaction.

“I’m yours, Your Grace,” You whispered back, with a trembling voice and a mixture of reverence and longing. The words hung in the air, laden with the weight of her surrender. Impulsively, you pulled Rhaenyra closer, her fingers grasping the fabric of her gown with a desperate need to feel her warmth.

Yet, despite the burning desire coursing through her veins, you hesitated, her breath hitching as she stopped just short of initiating the kiss. Your faces were mere inches apart, close enough to feel each other’s breath mingling in the charged air. She gazed into Rhaenyra’s eyes, finding herself lost in the depths of those piercing, commanding orbs.

Feeling you pull her closer, Rhaenyra had to act. She closed the remaining distance as she pressed her mouth against yours, kissing you. Her lips moved slowly against your own, enjoying the feeling of you beneath her, knowing you were hers. Her thumbs gently stroke the flesh of your cheeks as she begins to explore your mouth.

Her kiss was ethereal as her beauty. You explored the inside of her mouth with her tongues in an enticing dance, moaning between the kiss as her hand possessively wandered through your hair. Rhaenyra hummed again against your mouth, delighting herself with her reactions. Her arm possessively brought you even closer, as if it was possible and another hand of hers grabbed you by the neck, deepening the kiss.

Gently, the silver Queen pushed you against the cold wall of her chambers, causing an electrifying thermal shock on your body. Her fingertips traced through your jawline and she tightened her grip, feeling her smooth flesh, rubbing against yours and the feeling was beyond incredible. Rhaenyra parted her lips for a brief time, staring at you with eyes full of hunger.

“Do you want me, sweet girl?” Rhaenyra whispered, with a husky voice as her eyes darkened, burning with desire and need for you. She watched you closely, waiting for an answer from you, holding you on a firm grip. You nodded at her question, taciturnly responding at her.

“Say it.” The royal commanded again, filling the air with tension enough to explode the room. Her eyes were locked on yours, breathing heavily towards your lips, you were drowned in pleasure, your voice was about to falter, right in front of your queen.

“I want you, My Queen.” You whispered. Her lips curled into a devilish smirk, with one of her hands letting go of your waist to cup your cheek, brushing your olive skin in very gentle circles. Rhaenyra joined your noses and rubbed each other, teasing you. Your desire went over the edge. It was overwhelmingly good being claimed by Your Grace, you would make sure this night was perfect. Rhaenyra's tongue explored every inch of your mouth. Feeling the warmth inside and tasting you on her tongue.

“Are you mine, sweet girl?" She asked, moving from your mouth down to your jaw, sucking and leaving marks on your soft flesh. Her moves were quick and furtive, as a dragon should be. Her face roamed yours, examining your expressions with cunning and desire.

“I am yours, Your Grace,” you whispered, with a voice having a delicate blend of devotion and anticipation. A soft hum of pleasure escaped your lips as you felt the tender nibbling and gentle suckling on your skin, each touch sending delightful shivers through her body. The sensations were exquisite, drawing you deeper into a state of blissful surrender.

“You are mine.” Rhaenyra replied against your skin. You tilted your head back, moaning lightly as the Queen suckled on the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine nipples to instantly turn visible through your nightgown. Her hand travelled south, squeezing your waist and hips and soon after, your thigh. “Mine, mine, mine…” She continued, repeating the word like a prayer, still close to your neck.

Swiftly, she flipped your body and pressed the front of it against the cold wall, pulling your hair to the side and kissing your back as a contrast to her rough and sudden gesture. You purred with pleasure as Rhaenyra had her hands reaching the laces of your nightly garments and you moaned lightly, feeling her kisses on your neck. Your hands, delicately, pulled her head against your neck, beseeching for more action on her side.

“I am all yours,” You replied, faintly moaning with the motion of your dress falling onto the floor. “Yours, yours, yours…”

Rhaenyra mischievously smiled, out of satisfaction hearing your voice so submissive to her. Her soft hands wandered up and down on your bare back, admiring your naked body. Your neck was invaded with kisses, bites and suckles, mixing pain and lust at the same time and your moans were becoming desperate for her.

"I want to worship you, sweet girl. Will you let me?" Rhaenyra asked in a sultry whisper, her hands finding the lace of her own dress and revealing her pale skin. You agreed in silence, feeling her nipples brushing against your back. "Perfect." She muttered, her voice barely a mutter. One of her hands moved up to your breast, gently caressing it with her thumb.

And then, Your Grace flipped your body back to face your front. A brief silence rose amongst you two, her body screamed the yearn to devour you completely. Rhaenyra pinched your left nipple and you moaned in a low tone. "Gorgeous." Rhaenyra murmured as her mouth took in your pert nipple, her tongue flicking over it softly and your hands almost immediately reached her hair again, not allowing Rhaenyra to let go of your chest. Her tongue circled one nipple and alternated with suckling, kisses and bites on your nipple.

No one has ever seen you naked before. Yet, being all exposed for Rhaenyra for the first time was no hardship. You felt close to explode once her lips reached your breast and a soft cry came from your mouth. Rhaenyra hummed against your flesh, continuing to give your breast the attention it desired.

One of her hands lowered over your cunt as her lips suckled and licked your chest. Her other hand moved down across your torso before gently placing it between your legs and gently stroking a digit across your core, making you melt into her arms, exploding with her skilful manoeuvring.

Rhaenyra gently removed her mouth from your breast and looked up into your eyes. Her thumb continued to circle your core, picking up the pace as she watched you. "Does it feel good, sweet girl? Do you enjoy this?" The Queen muttered with a teasing smirk as she watched your hips bounce for her. You looked right into Rhaenyra’s eyes, moaning silently and crying out in pleasure against that wall, only nodding in response to her question.

Rhaenyra leaned in and kissed you once more as her thumb pressed down gently on your sensitive clit, delighting herself with your moans. "Say it." Rhaenyra whispered, repeating her command and wanting to hear you say out loud how much you like this.

“I-It feels so good… Y-your Grace…” You stammered, with your voice trembling with pleasure. You leaned in and pressed her lips to Rhaenyra’s, kissing deeply and fervently, as the Queen’s hands continued to explore her body with master, tender touches. Each caress heightened your senses, mumbling soft moans from her lips and making her pulse race with a mixture of excitement and desire.

The Queen vibrated in response and pressed down more on your sensitive apex, slowly increasing the pressure, watching closely for your reaction.

As she did this, her other hand moved up to wrap around your neck, gently squeezing you. You moaned, gazing directly into her eyes. "That's it, sweet girl. Let it all out." Rhaenyra whispered, her voice now husky and needy.

Not all times you touched yourself you could be as good as Rhaenyra was touching you. She knew how and where exactly to do it on you and it built an imminent desperation for release within your body. Your hands reached her shoulders, squeezing it as she grew closer to come on her fingers.

As your whines and moans grew, Rhaenyra knew you were close. Her thumb kept circling and pressing on your sweet spot, listening to the soft noises coming from your mouth. The sight of her in front of you was perfection. Rhaenyra squeezed your neck gently and whispered to you. "Come for me, my sweet. I want to see you fall to pieces in my hands... just for me."

With her soft command, you felt your legs faltering and a single tear of joy leaving your right eye, with a moan so similar to a whine leaving your mouth while your climax hit you, exploding just as the fourteen fires of the Valyria of Old. You buried your head on the crook of Your Grace’s neck, irregularly breathing and trembling your body.

Rhaenyra slowed her movements, taking her time to pull you through your orgasm. With each gentle rock of her thumb across your sensitive jewel, she kissed and licked up your neck. The sound of your moans and whines filled her ears and sent shivers down her spine. Feeling your body tremble against her sent a tingle between her thighs. "That's it, sweet girl. You've been so good, so perfect for me." The Queen muttered in praise as her arm wrapped around your waist.

You smiled, still in ecstasy from the aftershocks of that alluring moment you had shared with the Queen and kissed her lips gently while your body recovered. After the brief kiss, they stared at each other in silence and you proceeded to suckle on the finger that touched you, wiping all of your own wetness with her lips from Rhaenyra’s hand, who let go a groan as she watched you taste her on your fingers.

She could feel a heat beginning to burn deep within her core. You needed her. She brought her hands to your face and cupped your cheeks, kissing you deeply as she backed you towards the bed. The Dragon Queen pushed you down onto the soft silk sheets and hovered over top of you.

"I need you." She whispered against your mouth, her voice hoarse and desperate.

You felt the impact of falling onto the bed and kept kissing Rhaenyra and feeling the Queen alternating between her lips and neck. You spread her legs to accommodate Rhaenyra on top of you while Your Grace’s lips tasted your skin roughly and desperately.

“Then take me, Your Grace.” You whispered back, muttering ‘please’ onto her ear, which drove Rhaenyra to complete madness over you.

Rhaenyra lowered her body down, grinding her thigh against your wet core. You moaned a bit louder to the pressure and the sensation. She wanted to tease you, but you could not hold back anymore. "I am going to make you squirm, sweet girl." She muttered as her hand moved down your body, caressing your breast before her knee gently found your cunt. Rhae was gentle at first, pressing down gently as she rocked her knee against you. You, on the other hand, complied immediately to her promise, squirming and allowing your body to spasm under her touch. Instinctively, you grabbed her arse to keep Rhaenyra close.

Rhaenyra moaned as her body trembled, feeling your hands grab her arse and rock her. She leaned in close, biting down on your neck as she pressed her knee against you. "Feels so good, sweet...girl." She muttered as she continued to rub gently, her free hand gripping into your waist, as her own moans began to fill the room.

“Please, my Queen… more…” You pleaded as Rhaenyra kept rocking her knee against your sensitive centre, leaving moans from both mouths. You left one hand to the Queen’s hair, bringing her closer and the other hand kept squeezing Rhaenyra.

Your desperate moans made Rhaenyra go feral, her need and longing to hear more of your sweet sounds was overwhelming. "Say my name." She muttered, darkening her eyes and lowering your voice to a devilish tone, wanting to hear you utter her name on your lips.

You were torn, unsure if you should dare to call Rhaenyra by her name. It still seemed as a terrible lack of respect, yet the pleasure she derived from obeying her was overwhelming. As the sensations intensified, bringing you closer to the edge, you have decided to comply without question.

“My Queen,” you murmured breathlessly, opting to avoid using Rhaenyra’s name. The words felt both formal and intimate, a reflection of your submission and the profound connection you felt in that moment. Rhaenyra had her body trembling with anticipation, each touch and command driving her further into a state of astonishing surrender.

Rhaenyra listened intently as her thigh pressed and slowly paced against your intimacy, getting off your moans and whines. The queen smirked and kissed at your neck, gently sucking on the bare skin.

"No, my dornish sun.” She whispered in your ear, her voice sultry and seductive. “Say it... my name. I need to hear it from your sweet lips.”

“Rhae… Rhaenyra…” You moaned as Rhaenyra alternated between her fingers and knee on your intimacy. Your whines became more urgent as another orgasm began giving its early signs.

Upon hearing her name, Rhaenyra gently but firmly rolled her knee against your cunt, feeling your body tense slightly with your approach at climax. Wanting nothing more than to send you over the edge, Rhaenyra suddenly stopped and made you sigh heavily out of frustration for the denial of her release.

“Please, Rhae…” You pleaded, unable to finish her name, clenching your entrance around nothing and humping your cunt in the air.

"I want you to come on my lips." Rhaenyra groaned into your ear. Rhaenyra eagerly positioned her head between your legs, her mouth kissing along the inside of your sensitive thighs and making you arch your back, sobbing with the utter state of bliss. Rhaenyra moaned at the sight of your intimate spot, swollen, covered in slick and sensitive from the foreplay.

"So pretty for me, sweet girl." She whispered as her fingers gently parted your labia, exposing your jewel to her gaze. You moaned in anticipation by the simple act of having Rhaenyra kissing your inner thighs. Your lips were quick to be bitten.

Rhaenyra smirked at your moans, feeling her own desire building between her own legs. The sight of you squirming made her want you even more. She lowered her head gently, her tongue giving tentative licks to the sensitive skin on your thighs, biting softly into it. "And so responsive..." She murmured.

The more you moaned, the more desperate Rhaenyra was to hear more. She gently parted your lips further, exposing your sensitive intimacy. Slowly and gently, her thumb began to rub your sensitive bud, while her mouth returned to the skin above your cunt, suckling and biting at the flesh “Say my name, sweet girl." She whispered against your skin.

“R-rhaenyra…” You called her in a desperate moan. You pulled the Queen’s head closer to your damp core and her body arched back, feeling all the pleasure Rhaenyra had to offer to you.

Rhaenyra groaned at the sound of her name falling from your lips and leaned in closer as you pulled her head forward. Her tongue suddenly moved forward to brush across your sensitive bud, circling gently. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Does the Queen make you feel good?” You moaned as the royal returned back to gentle licks and circling motions.

“So good, my Queen…” You replied, humping your intimacy against Rhaenyra’s face.

The queen groaned out at the feeling of you rubbing against her, your soft noises making her heart beat faster in her chest. Your moans were the sweetest sound to her, music to her ears. Her tongue continued to move, the circles slowly becoming more and more erratic with her movements, her tongue adding more pressure to the side of your bundle of nerves.

You had your legs shaking once more and desperation built within you, a single tear leaving your eyes and Rhaenyra sped up the pace as she worked her tongue on you.

The sight of you beneath her only edged her on further. Rhaenyra felt her own desires and needs building within, her own core growing desperate for the same kind of attention. However, she continued with making you feel good. She wanted to make you cry, wanted to make you come undone. Rhaenyra leaned a bit closer, her pace quickening as her tongue flicked back and forth against your sweet spot.

"Are you close, sweet girl?" Her voice vibrated against your cunt, alternating her voice between eating your cunt out.

“Yes, my Queen…” You replied, agonisingly feeling Rhaenyra down on you, having you as if you were her last meal. Your whines were consistent and urgent, the warmth of her mouth made you feel even closer to your peak.

Rhaenyra groaned against your clit, feeling your body grow tense and more desperate. You were so close to falling over the edge, she could tell. "Come for me, sweet girl. I want to hear you call out my name when you reach your peak." Rhaenyra whispered before returning her tongue to your bundle of nerves, the speed in her circles increasing and becoming more frequent.

“Rhaenyra-…” You were quick to comply and let go, feeling your body convulsing under the overwhelming presence of your Queen licking your cunt and once more, you climaxed and now on her tongue. Rhaenyra groaned as your body convulsed under her mouth, her tongue continuing its ministrations through your peak.

The queen, however, hovered over you once more and kissed your lips hungrily, her face all covered in your wetness. “I am not done with you.” Rhaenyra groaned at the feeling of your bodies pressed together, her fingers digging into your skin slightly as she kissed your lips, her teeth gently biting over your pulse point.

“Mine.” She murmured against your skin, her breath hot yet soft as she whispered into the crook of your neck. The possessive edge in her voice and the way her teeth gently gripped onto your skin sent tingles down her spine, her body shivering against yours.

“I’m yours, Rhaenyra.” You muttered back, feeling Rhaenyra’s hand cup one of her breasts and taking a moan out of your lips.

Rhaenyra roughly squeezed your breasts at the sound of your moan, your breath shuddering softly against your skin as she moved her hand over your body, her fingers trailing over your hips, feeling again the mix between soreness and lust.

“Only mine.” She whispered quietly into your ear, her breath hot and shaky as she placed her legs between yours and pressed against you. Rhaenyra groaned at the sound of your moan, her body shivering as it pressed against you and her leg grinded against your centre.

“You feel that, darling?” She whispered her husky and shaky voice in your ear as her fingers trailed down to your hip, her leg gently and slowly rubbing against you. Rhaenyra’s hips gently grinded against yours, her breath shaky as she continued to rub her leg over you, her fingers digging into your hip slightly as she slowly began to rub at a steady pace.

She let out a low groan, her own need for you evident. “You feel so perfect, my darling.”

“Please yourself with me, Your Grace…” You said between moans as Rhaenyra rubbed her leg against your intimacy. Your mind rummined about her cunt against yours and it drove you straight into madness. Your body could barely understand the variation of emotions going through at this moment since you were close to come for the third time by that moment. Even still, you knew you could handle her, you wanted anything she had to offer you.

Rhaenyra gasped softly, her moans getting louder as her leg continued to rub against you, her hips shaking against as she listened to your moans. “I want you.” She groaned as her leg moved against you at a growing pace. “Gods, I need you.”

You wanted more, you wanted her to feel as much as you were feeling and perhaps it could be a risky move, but you pulled her body closer and positioned Rhaenyra’s aching core against your own cunt, mimicking a scissoring motion. “Please yourself with me, Your Grace.” She repeated herself, both moaning to the feeling of their clits against each other.

Rhaenyra gasped at the feeling of your bodies pressed in this way, her breath catching in her throat. ”Gods.” The queen gagged, her eyes rolling back slightly as a low and heady moan escaped her. Her hands grasped for your hips and gripped them as she listened to your moans. “S-sweet g-girl…” She called out your name, rocking her cunt against yours.

You bounced your hips and created more friction against Rhaenyra’s intimacy, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, moaning in a perfect symphony.

Her whole body trembled as her hips rocked against yours, moans coming out of her mouth uncontrollably as she ground and rolled her hips into yours. Her breathing was shaky and uneven, her grasp on your hips tightening as she desperately tried to maintain her composure. Your moans and sighs of pleasure seemed to fuel her own, and she found herself moving faster against you, letting out a low, keening sound as she felt her climax building.

“I’m close…” You said, feeling that Rhaenyra was almost close as well. Both Queen and Princess moaned loudly as they rubbed their clits against each other and hips moved fast to increase their pleasure. You cried out, desperate for release.

Rhaenyra had her body shook, her breath coming out in sharp gasps and moans as she felt herself nearing her peak. She gasped and moaned loudly, her body arching into yours as they ground against each other, desperately chasing her release.

“Gods, I’m going to—“ The dragon queen gasped out, her whole body shuddering and shaking. Her fingers dug into your hips and held you tightly as her body twitched against yours.

Your body shaked violently through your climax as it hits the duo fastly. You moaned loudly on a desperate whine, trembling and rocking for the last time against Rhaenyra as the Queen peaked as well. Rhaenyra’s whole body arched as they both came together, moaning and shaking as waves of pleasure washed over her. She held onto you tightly, her breathing coming out in hot and shaky puffs as she rode her climax, riding it until her body fell, limp and trembling against you, completely spent.

As you finished, Rhaenyra gently kissed your cheek before pulling back and crawling closer to your face and body. Her own breathing was laboured and her body flush. "You're so beautiful when you fall apart, sweet girl." She whispered, leaning in to kiss your lips gently. You hugged Rhaenyra while you tried to recover from the intense orgasm. After it, you brushed her sweaty hair while Rhaenyra was still on top of you.

Rhaenyra laid against you, her body feeling heavy and limp as she slowly began to come down from her high, her breathing and heart rate slowly returning to normal. Her hair clung to her face from the beads of sweat, her lips pressed to the crook of your neck as she tried to catch her breath. ”Gods.” She whispered breathlessly.

You breathed heavily and tried to regulate along Rhaenyra and smiled, wiping the sweat from the Queen’s face. “That was intense, Your Grace…” You whispered back, breathless as well.

Rhaenyra let out a faint chuckle, lifting her face from your neck and looking down at you, a small smile on her lips as she gazed at you. “Very intense.” Rhaenyra agreed. Her fingers lifted and traced over your face, her eyes full of adoration and affection as she looked at you.

“I’ve never lost control like that.” She said quietly, her voice low and full of wonder. You smiled coyly at Rhaenyra and kissed her chin gently, still gazing at her.

Rhaenyra groaned softly as she felt your tender kiss. Her own hand clutched gently onto your shoulder, her nails slightly digging into your skin. "You'll ruin me, sweet girl." Rhaenyra whispered, caressing your hair as she stared at you in bed.

Now was your time to smirk at her face. You grabbed her chin and kissed it, enticing her imagination and internally trying to see if that really wasn’t a dream. You had her. Your wish was conceded. And it was good as the fantasy you indulge yourself in. “Good.” You then said, whispering in her ear and enduring your mischievous face. Rhaenyra giggled and pulled you closer, giving a peck to your lips. “You are mine now.”

And finally, you could admit with happiness. “I am yours.”

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Radio ||

Requested plot points? ☑️

Circa: early February 1944

Immediate previous fic: Favorite Escape

Summary: when your hodge podge radio won’t work, who should ya call? Probably the flight engineer

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ but nothing very alarming really happens in this one, references to others are made, some potential slut shaming in the beginning if ya squint? perhaps some queer baiting but it’s the Buckies rolling around on the flooor, they’re one massive queer bait lbr, it’s not me. Also. My shit Crystal Radio making descriptions- don’t come for me I haven’t made one and I spent five hours falling down a rabbit hole as to how the guys made them in the camps and at the end of the day I said: screw it! And went with one of the Brit’s scenarios 🍻

Edited only by my tired little eyes, full warning and have mercy 💋

Also, just a note I feel compelled to make- this fic centers around women in the army, in a war, which they’re spending under dire conditions in a POW camp. Yes there is love here, there is also hierarchy and discipline and the enforcement of that does not make one character or another necessarily callous or less loving. They are their ranks first and foremost as all signed up for.

“They’re forging papers, you know.” Maureen broached the topic to Egan one day, late February and when her cheeks were still bruised from Ida’s book.

Bucky paused his tracing of a map, sooty finger trailing along a river with the same incomprehensible name as its twin running parallel, he didn’t know anything about papers or anyone making them and she knew that. “Who?”

“Good ones. Identification, passports.” She enumerated.

“Who?”

“The Poles. The ones with the-“

“-the liquor.” he finished for her, remembrance and condemnation heavy in his wry tone. “The ones you stayed out all night with.”

“Stayed long enough for them to get drunk enough to show me.”she replied, without heat, which was surprising.

“Some grand plan of yours, huh?” He bit back a laugh, it was a fine way to cover her ass for being insubordinate. It was a way he’d likely try if he was in her place.

“No.” she swore instead. “Just luck, I happened to see them. They got careless. Maybe an answer to all Jack’s prayers.”

“Yeah. Anything to give that rosary a break.”

“Yeah.”

“You asked them?”

“What for?”

Bucky regarded her with thinning patience but something kept him from snapping, the feeling of a riddle still to be solved. “For some papers.” he clarified, measured and intent, she knew how much easier that would make their plans for Ida.

Maureen shook her head, glancing down at her twisting hands, “I didn’t want to-“ her mouth twisted too, “-I wanted to ask a superior first.”

Bucky considered that for a moment, slightly touched at her newfound wisdom, “Why not ask Buck?”

She shook her head again, auburn hair curling under her chin just so, even here in the stalag she had some traces of the old charm. “He’s got too much to worry about for me to be bringing in hypotheticals.” she was so upset by something she would not even meet John’s eye and he felt a slice of remorse for how he hadn’t even noticed the ground down change in her since she got here, his drinking buddy and the soft fleshed rival of merry old English days was a gruff and battered and sullen woman; being a red blooded American male, he regretted that dismal change. “And I'm worried about what to bargain with. What can I promise? We haven’t got much and I don’t have— there’s not much anyway, but what we’ve got I didn’t wanna promise. Not without-“ she still hadn’t met his eye, he tracked hers; a furious roving of pale blue back and forth across the floorboards and it made Bucky itch.

“Who signs these papers?” Bucky asked, thinking the logistics through, knowing she’d perk up if he brought them up.

“Haven’t a clue. Maybe they haven’t figured that part out yet. I don’t know. I just know they’ve got papers.”

“Good ones.”

“Yeah.”

“We haven’t got much.” he agreed, clicking his teeth in thought, “What’d you give them for the liquor?”

“They just invited me.”

“Didn’t have to lend a hand or nothin’?” he balked and Maureen threw him a glare that seemed more hurt than rage, and chastened by a voice inside that sounded much like his mama’s, he amended with sheepish humor, “Hell, feel like lending a hand myself these days, if it’d get me a whisky.”

Her gnarled fist curled white in her lap, she managed hoarsely, “They just wanted to talk about home. To someone who hadn’t heard about it a million times before.”

“They got cigarettes?” he asked.

“As most common payment for their booze -they’ve got enough to insulate their shack three deep.”

“Cigarettes won’t cut it then.”

“I’ve been thinking.”-

“Yeah?”

“The radio. I’m the only one who doesn’t think it’s worth the risk but, I know, it doesn’t matter, it’s happening. Gale’s going to keep trying. And if it works-“ she rubbed at her eyes, tired and unsure, “-that’s quite the bargaining chip.”

Bucky nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as his smile grew a touch broader, “News of the outside world.” he was half in agreement, “Buck asked for a week. Been four days.”

“He’s stumped.” Maureen retorted instantly. “And he’ll stay that way and he’ll go nuts and you’ll go die going over the fence and then he’ll have no reason left not to die too.”

Bucky whistled, low and chiding, “You’re full of rainbows today, Candy.”

“You know who he oughta ask.” she shook off the barb. “But he won’t. And I don’t want him risking it for this thing anymore than anyone else, but you all want it so bad, and they’ll shoot us for it if it works or not. I’m not asking her. But you would. Might as well get shot for it working, right? Isn't that what you said yesterday? You know who he should ask.”

Bucky’s keen eyes showed the moment it dawned on him, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth sagged and he ran a weathered hand over his face, “Awww shit, Candy.” came garbled behind his palm. “Ah shit.” he said again with conviction as he shoved the hand into his pocket, wretched acknowledgment of her point clear on his face.

“I didn’t want to suggest it, told Ida it’s a fucking dangerous thing and I’ll never forgive if— but you all—“

Bucky grounded aloud, “Nah, nah she’s -Lu would solve it.” he muttered, shushing her. “Demarco really pummeled you the other day, huh?” he added, and that got her to meet his eye, she looked spooked and a little incensed, “Saw him fuckin’ you up behind B compound but sheesh, s’like he hollowed you out worse than a jacolantern; yer shifty as hell.”

“He-“ Maureen still felt like blanching at the memory of Benny’s terribly correct opinions, his disappointed eyes and his fist full of her flight jacket asking her what in the living fuck was wrong with her besides a concussion, a sick childhood and an ever nauseating jealousy of Buck Cleven’s paternal time and effort, “-he had some admonitions. After…after the other night.”

Bucky hummed, shitty smirk taking up residence on his face, “How ‘bout that.”

“I’m gonna be better.” she muttered and Bucky felt for her, could almost taste the echo of his identical and hollow determination to climb the mountain of bad habits when weak from spuds and pneumonia. He told himself the same every morning and fell into bed condoning his failure every night, like a ritual.

“You’re gonna get us those papers.” he corrected, shoving off the wall to come near her, give her the full Major treatment and maybe a friendly hand, “And you can promise your drinkin’ buddies news from the radio.”

Maureen nodded in understanding, no joy or animation left in her green eyes. She used to enjoy a bit of subterfuge, now she only felt hollow misery at the thought that she'd dragged Lu into this, too. This risk she hated so much and yet no one cared. Lu would be glad to be dragged in, it’s true, she was itching at the chance to be useful and to make Gale proud, it’s how the girl was wired. It’s how most girls were wired, Maureen supposed, desperate to make Gale Cleven approve. Lu’s enthusiasm wouldn’t make the sight of her being made to kneel in the mud and have a bullet put in her head any easier, wouldn’t make Maureen feel any less responsible for it when her lifeless body thudded to the earth.

All that lovely goodness stamped out.

Over a radio.

Bucky’s hand felt too hard and too big on her shoulder. He had gone before the vision cleared, mud and wire and the freezing main square at Ravensbruck fading back to the musty bunk room. Maureen shook herself and stood up to make herself somehow appealing, reamniante some semblance of the cheerful rashness that had led her to the Polish combine in the first place: she found it hard to inspire. She’d like to count that a victory but she knew better, she wasn’t reformed she was just tired.

A washed face and a fake smile and the promise of news from outside would have to be enough to bank all their risks on, it would have to be.

“Crank,” she greeted the man in the hall, flashing him clean, water brushed teeth and her gentlest, freshly soot lined eyes, “I’ve been tasked by Major Egan with an errand, spare a minute to babysit me?”

__________________________________

Bucky finds Buck Cleven in his own bunkroom, Demarco outside on watch and that’s all Bucky needs to know to guess the radio is out and Buck’s working like a fiend yet again to make it work. Sure enough, he’s hunched over the table with it, mittened hands shaking from cold and exhaustion and a sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the paltry sweater he wears.

Bucky walks in and Gale gives him a soft, acknowledging glance before continuing to his work. Bucky takes up his usual place behind Buck’s left shoulder to watch and Buck, being used to it, goes on.

“My little Kriegie Marconi, huh?” Bucky allows the nagging impulse he has felt for weeks while standing in this position to finally exert itself, and his forefinger lifts and swirls in the curling gold strands of hair at the nape of Gale’s neck, his friend almost bolts away but then seems to choose a prey’s tactic and just stills, goes very still and Bucky scritches the scalp beneath his grab in assurance he don’t meant anything by it. He doesn’t think he does, at least.

Gale, wary and with a voice close to mechanized it’s so stilted, inquires with ever-present politeness, “You alright Bucky?”

It’s better than that whole ‘major’ business; getting called Major as if that meant shit anymore. “Yeah, ‘course I am.” Bucky rakes his fingers through the hairs there at the nape of that dainty neck, scritches the scalp with all four of his main ones, and uncovers a white long scar sliding round once he lifts the hairs there. “Why wouldn’t I be? Gonna be a father soon.”

Buck does jerk then, away from his touch and wheeling his chair around to glare at Bucky; it’s an impressively executed little pirouette and John misses the feel of his warm neck and oil soft hair. “Jesus John.” he reprimands.

“We’re gonna get outta here Buck.” John swears, he’s so sure of it because he cannot in all his thinking and predicting ever imagine a scenario where they don’t, and he chooses to think it’s not delusion but a good omen. “Ida’s gonna have that baby and when it’s safe we’ll all meet up.”

Gale is looking at him like he’s his own father again, Bucky knows that look, it always makes him equal parts ashamed and desperate, “Jus’ like that.” Gale mocks in a husky gust.

It’s devastating, and it’s intended to be, and Bucky could bear that with better humor if he could still touch Gale and his hair. “Just like that.”

Gale hums and it’s a mean sorta vocalization that makes Bucky’s heart thud and his skin prickle hot, it’s the kinda noise you kiss off a person, he thinks, but it’s Buck and so he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It’s gonna get you killed.” Buck is saying instead and Bucky lets him, “I know you all think she’s cracked up and maybe she has but it wouldn’t hurt to listen to Kendeigh sometimes when she’s tellin’ ya shit that a five year old could accurately guess, -goddamn it.”

His voice rose to a strong rage by the end and Bucky takes a chair opposite him, sick of standing there like a dumb dog waiting for his scolding to be over. “So what.” Bucky challenges him, “We just wait around and Brady pops out a child and the krauts let us keep it and it’s our new mascot and we all sing zippidy doo da, huh? Huh, Buck?”

Gale’s hands fell away from his face with a slam to the table, a shocking degree of anger showing for a split second and it gave Bucky an odd degree of gratification. “I jus’ want you to find a plan with better odds.”

Bucky sniffed and leaned forward, went in for the kill and Gale was looking at him like he expected it, like it was his turn to play daddy to everyone here and Gale for once was so beaten down he wouldn’t just allow the changing of the guard, he was close to angry at its lateness. It made Bucky’s heart thud.

“I’ve been listening to Kendeigh.” Bucky refuted briefly, “And we’ve got a plan.” Gale gave him a tired look of encouragement to go on, “How long’s it been since you slept? Huh, well, we got a plan. Practically perfect, or it will be, just need the radio.”

“Ain’t giving this away.” Gale said, “Not for anythin’, even useless.”

Bucky patted the table top in easy assurance, if he could have reached Buck’s thigh, he’d have patted that instead, “No, no, don’t need to give it away, just need it to work. So,” he softened his voice and his eyes tightened, “I’m callin’ Lu in.”

Oddly, Gale does not fight it. Not aloud, at least. There’s an anguished look of hate on his face and Bucky mirrors it. It’s for this place and the fucking awful choices they have to choose from every goddamn day.

“You run this by Ida?” is all he asks.

Bucky pops his flaking lips audibly, “What, need us both gangin’ up on you to agree? She’ll sign off. Smith’s an officer. Gotta remember that sometimes, Buck.”

The way his Buck swallows hard and dry contradicts his words, “I do remember that.”

“Really?” Bucky’s mouth gives a soft smile of doubtful incredulity and Gale’s mimics it, mournful but a smirk all the same, “Feel like she should answer to ‘Gale’s Baby’ these days. Lieutenant Smith who?”

Gale scoffs, “Careful now.”

“No really, she’s an officer and she wants to be treated like one. It’ll do her good to have work. Her kinda work.”

“Could get her killed.”

“Layin’ in her bunk could do that.”

Gale grunts, its sounds like an agreement.

“So I say Lieutenant Smith gets put on radio detail. Like her goddamn job description suggests. Huh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gale lets out a shaky agreement.

“Aaaaand,” Bucky draws it out as he rises again and saunters over to Buck who is ready for him and loose this time, “how bout I go back to bein’ the one you’re frettin’ ‘bout all the time. Got me almost jealous of the girl. How ‘bout I do. Huh?”

Gale’s scoff is fond as anything as he looks up at John with cheerful derision, “And you ‘bout to be a father? Make me an old man? Fuck no, ya looney.”

“Alright.” Bucky concedes with hands up in surrender before lurching forward and grasping Gale’s rickety chair back by its wobbly spokes and hefting it partially off the ground, beautiful and outraged prude of an occupant still seated in it, “Then I’ll play daddy and put you to bed, how ‘bout that.”

“John Egan for fucks sake-“ Gale’s fists pounded on the meat of his shoulders and his outraged protests wafted against Bucky’s neck and his jabbing knees collided with the meat of his thighs and Bucky hadn’t felt so close to him or so happy to be alive since England.

“Major sir, the hell is goin’ on?” Demarco’s tame inquiry from the safety of the doorway made them both lose their grapple and they collided together onto the floor, bunk bed barely missed by their heads and the hapless chair mixed up between their limbs.

Bucky grinned, hip sore from his fall and kidneys suffering from Buck’s trapped elbow there, “Puttin’ Goldilocks to bed.” he replied.

DeMarco processed that and the scene before him with grave sobriety before saluting lazily and turning to go, “Right on, sir.”

John did his best to rise up without further pinching Gale who was indeed trapped beside him and beneath him, chair legs wound between a lanky human leg in a puzzle that Bucky realized might take some caution to untangle without harm. Strangely, Buck wasn’t moving, he was just looking up at him like a cat would their clumsy master who has done somethin’ stupid which was a surprise to neither. It was so innocuous a look and so nostalgic, it winded Bucky with the realization he hadn’t seen it in ages, just as he hadn’t felt his boney ribs against his own and the feel of his elegant hands yanking him around in a fight. This miserable place really was stomping out the glow in the best people.

“Ya know Buck,” he ventured, clearing his throat for extra casualness, “I’ve missed you.” When Gale only kept looking up at him, perfect porcelain face with its unsettling scars and wary eyes without a lick of storm in them, John Egan grabbed his shovel and dug his own grave a little deeper, drug a finger down his cheek. “Missed all this.”

Bucky didn’t know what he meant by “this” but it felt safer and worse all at once, since he did miss Buck but he and Buck never used to hang out on floors with a chair as chaperone. Mercifully, Buck neither points that out nor moves away, acting very much like he needed to heaped on the floor with Bucky and a stray chair every bit as much as John did. Like it’s doing him good.

“And you couldn’t’ve jus’ said.” Gale murmurs with the softest eye roll of the century and Bucky feels like beaming and it must show in his face so strong and bright after a sunless winter that after a flash Gale’s cheeks flame from it and he averts his eyes.

“I dunno Buck, could I?” Egan asks one blushing cheek and Gale hasn’t got a good reply for that, so they just lay there on the floor.

“Go on now, get off me.” Gale doesn’t shove at him, he presses his hand to John’s forehead like he would a dog and John goes, obedient as one.

———————————————————————-

They found Lu with Murph and Benny and Brady, measuring out what seemed to be lot lines between Love Shack #9 and the next combine, boot scuffed perimeters already visible in the light snow and drawn in a decently tidy rectangle. There were guards loitering nearby, nosey as always with their cigarettes and their antsy dogs anytime someone did something out there besides piss or pace or stare at the fence.

“What’s all this?” Bucky inquired cheerfully, coming up to them with Gale, bundled and shivering behind him.

Benny looked up from tilling a furrow with his boot, right where Lu’s mittened finger pointed out. “It’s for the garden. S’posed to be spring before long.”

“A Chicago man oughta know better, Benny.” Egan snarked.

“Need us?”

Bucky sniffed, a casual set to his body that belied his quest, “Just the little one.”

Smith promptly looked startled, then eager. “All well Majors?”

“Need your advice on the color of my cufflinks with this suit.” Bucky extended his arm and beckoned her, “C’mon back in for a minute. One of you too, need a watch to go with the cufflinks.”

———————————————————————

With Benny on guard, Brady and Kendeigh having excavated the radio’s shell from the floorboard and table leg in which it resided, the Buckies stood over Smith’s small frame as she sat at the table and inspected the simplistic device with keen eyed appreciation for the construct.

“It’s really marvelous.” she assured Cleven, running her fingers over the carefully coiled wire and precarious pin.

Gale didn’t even crack a smile. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked instead.

She shook her head, a frown gathering. “Never made one-“ she cautioned.

“-but you get the idea.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“So what’s wrong.”

Lu ran her fingers over the wire, again and again, the dusty metal not insulated, just bare copper, likely stripped from somewhere. It reminded her of early days as a cadet when they threw chicken wire mixed with hydraulic lines at herself and her fellow rookie engineers and told them to sort it, testing to see if they knew which was which. It had been so rudimentary she had wanted to laugh until she realized others were being flunked.

This was so basic she was stumped.

“Take your time, Lu.” Bucky spoke up after a burdened pause during which she could almost feel Major Cleven breathing down her neck.

“Candy, can I try with the headphone?” she asked at last, frustrated and out of her element, just a few months out of a plane and she had already lost her touch.

Maureen passed it over and Lu pressed it to her ear, not to discern what was quite obviously radio silence, but to imagine the whole process in reverse, track it down the cord all the way to the base, each possible breakdown of the conduction.

She fingered the ramshackle diode with burgeoning suspicion. “What’s your crystal?”

“That’s just…lead.” Cleven muttered.

“From?”

“Ground pencils.” Bucky supplied cheerfully.

Smith bit her lip, “We need sulfur added. Lead won’t conduct on its own.” She figured Cleven knew that, the grim and unmoving set of his mouth suggested so.

“Just- sulfur?” Maureen asked.

“If I had sulfur we could add it to the lead dust, ignite it and-“ Smith grinned at Kendeigh, knowing that she alone may have shared her enjoyment of a small conflagration from time to time, “burn it down and you’ve got something close enough to Galena. Just need a pinch of it should work.”

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and surveyed the mostly morose room. All except for the two girls grinning at each other over the hypothetical of a little chemistry experiment in a highly flammable wooden combine.

“We’ve got sandy soil.” Buck’s contemplative drawl spoke up, “Dunno if we could extract enough pure sulfur.”

Maureen stared back at Egan instead, “Other sectors have gotten portions of kits, chemistry kits, radio kits, they’ve been smuggled in with all sorts of stuff. Inside of a violin, oat bags. Nothing to fully build something. They might have sulfur. I could make inquiries and- well, Jack could pick it up next time the band goes over C compound to entertain the poor Aussie bastards.”

“How do you kno- nevermind, actually. Nevermind.” Bucky broke off, “Alright. Sure, why not. Ya sure that’s it?” he asked Lu once more.

She gave a helpless little shrug. “Gotta be. Or the wire’s dirty. Where’d it come from anyway?”

Gale gave Bucky a long suffering look as Bucky seemed to swell a couple inches and bounce back on his heels at the mention of his scrounging prowess. “The lamp.” he nodded above them all.

Jack Brady scoffed, short, clipped, betrayed, “That why it cuts out all the time? Strobed us so bad last night -thought the room was possessed.”

“Sacrifices Jack, sacrifices.”

———————————————————

Benny had hauled in enough water buckets to elicit some negative attention from the guards, and when the inspection came the inmates of the Love Shack insisted the drenched floors and table of the Majors’ barracks were due to sanitation post regurgitation. At night, with only one stolen torch light from Combine 15 to illuminate the endeavor, a basin of water beneath a smaller bowl in which lay their precious and recently procured ingredients, a science experiment began. The Majors and Ida gathered round, all looking as ghastly and spectral in the light of the flashlight as Brady’s fake ghost. It held the thrill of a bonfire night except for the stakes, which all in the room did their best not to dwell on.

“Zippo, Candy.” Lu gave the word and Maureen, with only the protection of Ida’s bent aviators to keep from a scorched cornea, flicked on her lighter and set the mixed powders ablaze.

It flamed up high and smelly, making Benny gag and mutter something about Meatball’s gas to a tittering Brady, and then died down to a yellow smoking ember.

“We should let it sit.” Lu surmised with a squeeze to Maureen’s only somewhat singed hand, her big dark eyes surveying the burnt bowl and their smoking experiment with glittery excitement at the possibility of success, “Let it cool, settle, maybe strain it. Can you get me a net? Oh Candy come now, get me a strainer?” she begged with a laugh as Maureen rolled her eyes at the idea of yet another trip to the Stalag Market for the most random items imaginable. If they hoped to not be suspicious, they’d need better lies or more money.

“How about cheesecloth?” Kendeigh tried not to grin indulgently- and failed- in the face of Lu and having recently been allowed to set something on fire

Lu kissed her cheek. “Cheesecloth would be perfect.”

In the end, cheesecloth did indeed prove perfect, and amongst the burnt dust of the combined minerals was a gritty little pinch full of the needed crystals. Or so Lu said, Gale agreed but the crease between his brows hadn’t lifted for two days; Bucky’s fingers had begun to twitch in antsy need to manually smooth them out. He imagined Maureen felt the same but she hadn’t said, uncharacteristically forbearant now she had some job to keep her sane. Even if it was playing fetch for Lu.

—————————————————————

“Well, this is it.” Gale muttered when the watch had been set once more, Murph and Hambone on the steps, Crank inside, Brady at the door, Benny at the window. Even Major Clark had joined them in the barracks for this final try and Lu’s cheeks were maroon from the attention even as her deft hands steadily pressed her concoction beneath its intended rod.

“Pass me the pliers, sir?” She asked and for a moment, the teacher became the apprentice and Gale fetched her the stalag forged tool, rudimentary like everything here yet the gripped and pulled and lifted same as the pliers back home. “You could check your look in this wire’s reflection.” She complimented Gale’s buffing of the copper wire.

He shrugged in turn. “Didn't wanna leave anythin’ to chance. That it?” he asked as her hands stalled and she surveyed her work.

Lu nodded solemnly. “Yes sir.”

Gale picked up the headphone from in front of him on the table like it was a gun he was about to bring to his head. “Here.” He extended it to her instead, “S’right, it was your job, you should be the first. Cmon.”

Despite her voiceless protest he pressed the headphones into her hands and Lu, never knowing how to disobey an officer, folded immediately.

For a good ten seconds everyone in the room held their breath as Smith pressed the headphone to her ear and gently wiggled the clothespin along the wire, searching and tuning, her face holding that old peaceful concentration they hadn’t seen since the last mission. She was at home with her mind tuned to another dimension. The pilots in the room knew that look, that was the look of someone at home with something that terrified them all the same, the gut swooping feeling of clearing the take off and sledding along the tops of the clouds. Wrong and strange and utterly incomparable to others, it was the closest to home one’s mind could be. Lu belonged somewhere on those electric currents and searching them out was like finding oneself again.

Then at last, Lu’s eyes sharpened out of their dreamy haze of concentration and she said, gentle as always, “It’s the BBC sir.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[luvgavii]

wet dreams - (pg8)

summary: pedri's special way of waking you up ;)

warning: smut. minors do not interact!!

It wasn't often that you slept in. Whether it was because of uni or because you wanted to make your boyfriend breakfast before he leaves for training, early mornings were a part of your routine.

Today was an exception, you didn't have to go to university until the afternoon, so it was finally the day when it wasn't necessary to put an alarm.

When Pedri stirred, stretching his muscled arms out with a small yawn, his dark brown orbs fluttered open, immediately turning to his side to look at you. You looked so peaceful, your chest rising and falling with every breath you took. Pedri smiled to himself, reaching out to put a strand of hair that was in your face behind your ear, his touch soft and tender, careful not to wake you up.

The moment you laid from your side to your back, the covers slid just enough to reveal your chest, your perky nipples immediately making Pedri's pupils dilate, his mind going to the night before.

He bit down on his lower lip, fighting back the urge to run a hand over your breasts. He wasn't a fan of touching you in such an intimate way without having your consent, no matter how many times you'd told him you wouldn't mind to wake up to his face between your thighs.

You've taken him by surprise when a quiet hum left your slightly parted lips, his chocolate eyes moving from your tits to your face, taking in your messy bed hair. Even in moments like this, when his morning wood physically hurt him, he couldn't help but look at you lovingly, his gaze filled with eternal love.

Pedri smirked, and he stated 'why not?' as he started lowering himself to press wet, open mouthed kisses to your collarbone, moving lower to the valley between your breast.

Your peaceful dream has suddenly taken a turn between dreamland and reality, your mind still half asleep as you tried to figure out if what you were feeling is real or just a dream. Regardless, you hummed, laying on your back more comfortably and nuzzling your head into the pillow, giving him more access to your body. Pedri took this as a sign to continue, he looked up at you, seeing that your eyes were still closed, his tongue darted out to tease your nipple, while his hand took care of the other one.

That sensation alone was enough to convince you of reality, your lips curling into a sleepy smile as Pedri pulled the covers to the side, revealing your bare body to him as he continued to kiss down your body, his tongue tasting your skin ever so lightly as he settled between your thighs, his lips leaving love bites. He finally looked up at you, his hands softly caressing your thighs as you hummed and whimpered, a smirk on his lips as he saw your sleepy-lust filled expression.

"Abre las piernas para mí, muñeca," he instructed and you couldn't help but do so, your thoughts filled with the dirtiest images the human brain could imagine. (spread your legs for me, doll)

Pedri's fingers ran over your inner thighs, his touch light and teasing as he eyed your glistening core, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip in anticipation. One of his hands moved to your hip, holding you down against the soft mattress as his finger ran over your folds, producing a dirty, wet sound that made his blind go blank for a second before regaining composure, his two fingers spreading your pussy in front of him. He enjoyed how desperate you were for him, how you bucked your hips begging for more, and he was going to give you everything you asked for.

His breaths came out in short pants, seeing you leak your juices around his fingers as you clenched around nothing. Pedri smirked up at you, obviously loving how you responded to his touch, he was filled with pride and arrogance, knowing he is the only one that gets to see this side of you.

Ending the cruel teasing, he finally lowered himself to your pussy, his brown eyes locked on yours, his fluffy and messy hair (😔😔) resting on his forehead. He ran his tongue over your folds, collecting your juices with the tip of his tongue as you moaned and arched your back into him. Pedri closed his eyes for a moment, savoring your taste against his tongue as he groaned, the vibration only making your thighs tremble even more.

His tongue moved up to your clit, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves with practiced skill as his mouth sucked on it. Pulling away slightly, Pedri tore his eyes from you, instead, he looked at your pussy, his finger teasing your entrance, making you whimper with need. He smiled wickedly, his chin and stubble glistening with your juices as he did so, slowly sliding a finger inside of you and groaning at the warm, wet place.

"Estás tan necesitada, nena. Tan preparada para mí, tan mojada," he groaned, his middle finger starting to move in and out of you at a slow, steady pace. (you're so needy, baby. so ready for me, so wet.)

"Más," you managed to breathe out, looking down at him through your eyelashes as he rested between your thighs, watching his middle finger move in and out of you with sloppy sounds that seemed to fade away in the background of your moans.

You gasped and tilted your head back, your eyes closing shut as not only did you feel him add his ring finger, but also felt his tongue and mouth on your clit again, moving more rapidly this time. You moaned, his name rolling off your tongue like honey as his fingers seemed to hit every single one of your sweet spots, curling in that perfect way to push you closer to your orgasm, your sleep long forgotten.

The knot in your stomach tightened, making you clench around his fingers tightly, your hand tangling in his hair and guiding his movements to prevent him from edging you, your moans becoming more loud and desperate as your body spasmed with the intensity of your orgasm. Pedri helped you ride it out, his fingers sliding out of you as they got replaced by his tongue, licking and slurping on your juice like his life depended on it.

As you panted, trying to catch your breath, Pedri lifted himself up, his glistening lips formed into a grin, clearly pleased by how you two started the morning.

"Creo que podría acostumbrarme a mañanas como esta," he said cheekily, kissing your stomach and chest as he towered over you, coming face to face with you, still grinning as his eyes shined with mischief.

You chuckled, wiping his mouth and chin with your palm before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Y creo que podría acostumbrarme a despertarme así," you grinned back with a cheeky giggle. (and i think i could get used to waking up like this) "Round 2?"

[radsoldier]

You're a bad idea.

Pairing: Cairo Sweet x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary: Cairo is mesmerized by the new, mysterious student sharing a class with her.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: cursing, steamy scene (no smut however) I think that's all?

a/n: i'm sorry if it feels a little rushed? i changed the ending almost four times. hope you enjoy!

You hated how everything was changing but still, you felt numb.

You moved to another state, you decided to focus on your writting and suddenly you became a mystery.

Or at least that's how Cairo saw you. And she loved a good mystery more than anything.

More so if the mystery was the new and gorgeous student sharing a class with her.

Yeah, maybe she was getting a little obsessed over someone she had only exchanged a few words with.

She knew very little about you. Your name. The amazing writer you were. The body she only saw once, when you crossed paths in the locker room, you having finished your training with the soccer team, she getting ready for her swimming lessons.

The way you seemed to try to blend in so no one would be able to notice you. But she did. How could she not?

So she found herself, once again, writting about you. The possibilities were endless.

Who were you? Why did you get here halfway through the course?

God, she needed some sleep.

_________

You were late to your first class but you couldn't care less. The creative writting lecturer was really annoying.

You didn't bother knocking on the door and just walked in, getting a few stares from other students AND, obviously, your professor.

"So you decided to finally show up? What an honor" he said.

You chose to ignore him, it was really early in the morning and you didn't have time for coffee before you left home so yes, you felt like shit.

You scanned the room looking for an empty seat somewhere you could just lay low until your eyes landed on Cairo Sweet.

Well, on the spot near her. You walked there and without another word you sat next to her and opened your laptop on your desk, ready to start writting while blocking out your teacher's voice.

You opened your most recent work, knowing full well you didn't have the energy nor the time to finish it right then but you thought you might as well give it a try.

You could feel the burning stare on the side of your head but you decided to ignore it and started typing instead, focusing on your work.

The minutes passed excruciatingly slow and you could feel yourself getting more and more annoyed at the fact that you were unable to focus on the poem you were writing.

"Trouble in paradise?" Cairo asked with a smirk, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You stared at her with no sign of emotion on your face and she felt like you could see clearly every thought she ever had.

"Mind your own bussiness" you retorted.

You saw dissapointment flash across her features before she returned her attention to the stupid lecture and for some reason all you could think about was her smirk, the small dimples on her cheeks and all those freckles.

Fuck, her face was like a sky full of stars.

You tried to focus on your work with little success when Cairo's face haunted your mind.

_________

Class ended and you were the first one to leave, almost as if you were in a rush so when Cairo saw you smoking against a wall near the parking lot she was pleasantly surprised and without thinking it twice, she approached you and snatched the cigarrete from your hand, allowing herself a long drag before looking up at you with that same smirk from before.

You looked at her. Really looked at her. She was gorgeous. Her tiny frame held herself with shameless wonder. You felt like some force was pulling you to her.

"What do you want from me?" you asked.

She laughed and you swear your heart skipped a few beats in that moment.

"That's a great question" she said mischievously "I'm still figuring that out"

Then she stepped closer to you and she placed the cigarrete back in your lips.

"Then find me when you do, Cairo" you said smirking back before turning around and leaving.

She felt confused, she thought she was getting somewhere but she felt like you were always running.

Cairo watched as you started your bike and drove away from the building.

You really needed that coffee now if you wanted to make it to practice later that day.

_________

You were distracted, which earned you a talk from the coach. You scoffed and left the field to sit on the bleachers, as he instructed you.

"Sit back there and cool down, don't want that temper on my team, kid" were his exact words.

You couldn't help it. You either felt numb or mad, there was no in-between.

You watched as the rest of the team finished some drifts and exercises and you joined them, the only answer to your move being a slightly nod from the coach.

Practice finished without further inconvinience but you always decided to run around the field while everybody went home.

You liked the solitude of it.

So you found yourself entering the locker room really late that day. You took off your shirt first thing and then looked around to find no other than Cairo Sweet, her wet hair falling around her shoulders. And she was definitely checking you out.

"Enjoying the view?" you asked raising one eyebrow at her.

"Mhmm" she muttered not looking away from your abs.

You stepped closer to her and that seemed to put her out of her trance and look straight to your face. She was blushing and biting her lower lip.

"I will ask again, Cairo. What do you want?" you took another step closer.

Her eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and you lips as she licked hers.

"I want you, Y/N" she said breathless.

And she sounded so sure of it.

Your eyes darkened as she leaned closer to you so she could trace her hand against your jaw.

"So pretty…" she said.

Something inside of you switched and in a swift movement you grabbed her hand above her head and guided her backwards until her back made contact with the locker behind her.

"Fuck" she whimpered.

You leaned so close that she could feel your breath against her mouth.

"That's what you want, Cairo? You want me to fuck you?" you demanded.

"Y-yes" she was breathing hard and you were enjoying every bit.

You released her hand and she placed it on your shoulder, tugging for you to get even closer, while your hand made its way to her collarbone, you traced it slowly and then you placed it on her throat, with just enough force to keep her head in place as you finally closed the gap and smashed your lips agains hers, kissing her hard.

You shivered when you felt her hand tracing down your torso, taking her time around your top to finally rest on your abs.

She moaned when your tongue traced her lower lip, asking for permission which she happily complied.

The sound of a door closing took you both out of your steamy make out session and you felt your body tense when you pulled apart.

"I have to go" you said "Didn't mean to start a fire" you added smirking at her.

And with that you grabbed your things and left her there, speechless and aching for you.

[wroteclassicaly]

Summary: A confession leads to unexpected heartbreak.

18+

Warnings: Language, smut, hurt/no comfort, one sided feelings, heartbreak, angst GALORE, self-esteem issues, mentions Steve’s past head trauma, insecurities on both sides, jealous Steve, mentions Nancy, best-friend!Reader w/ best-friend!Steve, and friends to lovers. This one hurts, folks!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Word count: 3,985

A/N: No banner for this! Just some raw writing I did early into the hours of this morning/night, adding on some today. I wanted to try something different, so enjoy!

Note: Also posting this the day after I wrote it. Okay, lmaooooo.

“I love you, Steve.”

The words come easy to you, the courage taking years to build. But once they leave your mouth as you’re cradling his neck’s nape, playing with the chocolate curls that have grown out there, you cannot figure out why you wasted time not saying it. It’s been an ongoing thing between you two — a two year thing, in fact. Never any pushing for labels, no exclusivity. You were patient, he was giving, and you assumed you were both reading on the same page.

In a few minutes, however, you’d find out how very wrong that you were. You wished that your mouth and your legs had stayed closed around your best-friend, Steve Harrington.

It was a typical weekday, no dates planned, acting as if his last date hadn’t upset you, or that you enjoyed the one you forced yourself to go on with some guy, so that your feelings weren’t completely obvious. Sidenote: to mostly everyone but Steve, they kinda were. Steve had called you after your shift at the local Burger King, asking if you wanted to come over and spend the night. Not unusual. You always trade spending nights, rolling around on various surfaces, before enjoying breakfast together.

Intimate, casual, perfect.

Your answer was an automatic yes. A quick shower after work for you, a return phone call, and he’d gotten in his BMW, picked up some takeout, went to your door to get you, held your hand to the car, opened your damned door, and the dessert had been him between your thighs. This night in particular, it was one of pent up frustrations and desperations that had just one satiable cure. You ended up on top of Steve, his back pressed into the headboard, mutual clothes scattered all over his bed.

His shoulders became leverage, his massive palms spread out on either side of your waist, pinching the plush skin into his palming grip. Nose dusting across a defined nose bridge, caught in a cheekbone, with kisses rushed, deep, sloppily trying to stay focussed, but driven to reach that place buried inside one another.

Steve’s thighs provide a platform for you to sit upon, ankles locked around his back. He’s slippery with sweat, places you’d like to lick clean. You pull back from your cove to say it again, unable to stop yourself, going in for a kiss. You don’t think he heard, he’s humble sometimes, disbelieving in others. One hand cups his jaw, the other staying put to card through his hair, moisture pooling between your fingers.

“Hey? You still with me, big guy? I said I love you.” You’re smiling softly, thumbpad caressing his jawline. You feel it twitch, his shoulders tense.

Is he gonna cum? You know the signs. “Steve?” Something in your guts feels a little off. You ignore it.

“I know what you said. I heard you say it the first time.” He interrupts, tries to remain impassive, his hips slowing from your combined movements.

Like salt in the wound, a fresh slap to the face. No way.

“You heard me say that I love you?” You have to try one more time. He’s been hit in the head a lot, maybe he didn’t get it? He couldn’t have, right? Are you really this stupid, this dense?

You attempt to kiss him, to lay it all down through your actions, rather than your words this time, but your mouth doesn’t get the chance to meet him.

His lids flutter closed, he sighs, his face leaving yours, hands lifting off your body to wrap around your wrists, slowly untangling them from his neck. “Stop, alright?”

You feel your heart rate accelerate, your body tensing, your throat is choked with a teary panic, a bulldozer driving across your organs, settling atop you with its weight. Every single wall you still have built, they slowly shake off their cobwebs to rise from the dust, smothering you in the smoke. And he’s suddenly a very tight fit, to the point where you’re wincing, body immediately wanting, trying to push him out. He notices, one hand dropping to the side of your face. “Hey, hey. Hon —“ He stops himself, lets your nickname drop, falling back into your regular name.

He isn’t sure who that action hurts the most.

One look at your vacant expression and Steve feels as if he’s been sucker punched, that he’s the meanest version of himself he’s ever been.

He’s still inside of you, you let him into your body, you told him a sacred set of words. And this is what he’s doing to you? Hurting you to the point where your body starts to get frightened? But he couldn’t just come while you poured your heart out, he couldn’t continue like his world was normal anymore. He reaches down to wrap around his base, face wrinkling, teeth gritting. You’re so fucking tight that it hurts, his cock aches for you when he eases his way outward, dragging combined essences with him. “Let me just…” He starts, deep voice a rocky, rasp, finishing when his length is gone from your body, dripping with you onto his sheets, covering him.

Once he’s out, you’re already passed the point of overwhelming vulnerability. Your legs clamp closed, your hands cover your chest, unwillingly to wrap yourself in his damn sheet that smells like home to you. Steve is unsteady on his feet, halfway hard, but slowly softening at your nearly curled position. You aren’t looking at him, you won’t, you cannot. It’s not safe right now, because if you do, it’ll all come apart and it won’t stop. Steve is on overload in his own head, eyes sparkling, tears matted into his lash-line.

He has to breathe through his nose when he says it. It’s wrong, it’s so fucking wrong. But he’s helpless, he can’t take this environment, he wants to run from you, from your words.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll, uhm… I can take you home if you get dressed.”

He’s blinking away blurry vision as he catches your wounded, tear fogged expression the moment that he’s snatching his boxers and jeans off the bed, and making for the bedroom door. He shuts it and leaves you to re-cloth yourself in silence. It’s honestly deafening, you’re not sure how you manage. Revealing your body to his room, to his scent, pictures on his wall, various trinkets, but not him. You’re shaking as you put on piece by piece of fabric, dreading having to see him.

Your hand hovers over the door, giving several pauses before you open it. You step out onto the deep carpet, plush across your feet, mashed against your toes. He’s nowhere in sight. And you remember that he took his clothing, so he’s probably getting re-dressed.

Fuck this. It’s in your brain on broadway lights, body in flight mode. You’re heading down the staircase and snatching your shoes up by the entryway, forgetting your purse in his room. You don’t care anymore, you have to get out of here, this place closing in on you like a funhouse. You shut the door as quietly as you can, then you’re sprinting down the Harrington’s driveway.

Is it dramatic? Yeah. Oh-fucking-well, you’re running on adrenaline so your body doesn’t feel the disgusting agony that’s slowly eating its way through your insides. You get about halfway and you hear footsteps approaching at high rates, your name being chanted. Steve is at your side in seconds, breathless.

“Shit, you scared me. Why the hell did you leave like that?”

Your eyes widen to give him an incredulous look, and that’s when the tears escape, rolling down your cheeks. Steve sees your disheveled state next. No purse, no shoes. Your blouse is halfway hanging off your shoulder. It’s an automatic instinct, his fingers brushing underneath the fabric, dragging across your skin as he pulls up to secure it.

You want to flinch away, but you don’t. Hurt settles in his brows. He’s fucking incredible with that question. “You aren’t wearing your shoes. You can’t leave my house like this.”

Autopilot flies in to protect you, leveling off everything else that you could say or do. There’s no anger, there’s no sorrow, there’s nothing. And that’s what scares him the most when you say, “I just wanna go home.”

He can’t stand it anymore, his natural urge to protect your safety, has him wrapping you in his arms. You still smell like his bed, like him, like love making left unfinished. Your arms remain clutched to your chest. No reaction.

He says it out loud, unknowing if he means it to you or just to himself. “We should’ve never started having sex.”

A mistake. You’re his mistake. Not his biggest. Not even a real regret.

Steve Harrington has only ever loved one girl. He’s only ever regretted one loss. He even cared more for Robin before he even went to you. Are you even pretty enough, or does he just like you because you’re friends and he’s horny, or searching for something? You’re not it, not even a morsel.

And it doesn’t matter what you say, what you do, how you feel. You’ll be stuck with that, while Steve clings to whatever he truly wants. Now you’ve lost what you’ve built with him, destroyed his safe place by becoming a cliche. He doesn’t deserve your one sided feelings.

The wheels are spinning in your head, but Steve still sees nothing in your responses, nor your reception. So he lifts his keys from his pocket to respect your wishes, his chest on fire with an acidic inferno, his head clouded with pain far worse than anything he’s ever experienced, his skull echoing with what his brain has just endured. You walk to his car without sparing a glance, feet still bare. He swallows and it just feels like piles of broken glass. He can do nothing but do what you asked of him.

He drives you to your house in silence. Steve Harrington has been sure of one thing in two years, and that’s always been you. But as he pulls up to your house, you’re climbing from his car before he can put it in park, your voice hauntingly, desperately hollow. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

And you leave him, the levee going to break once you’re through your front door, pain in between your legs to remind you the next morning before your mind does. His nose crinkles, his fingers pinching, a thin line of snot trailing out. Steve wants to say to you that it’s him who has ruined it all. That he’s so scared of those words, that he doesn’t understand how someone could love him, so he can’t let your words sink in, can’t consciously reciprocate. A coward who won’t let himself feel your declaration.

Steve Harrington’s brain, however, knows the truth.

~*~

Waking up the next morning had been a reality that neither you, nor Steve were prepared to handle. You pretty much cried yourself to sleep, whilst Steve held onto your purse and paced his floor until his feet verged on rug burn, tears blurring his vision. When he finally did lay down, his alarm went off two hours later. He woke to your scent all over his bed, still covering him, lingering even as he showered, especially in his car on the way to the store. The same car that things have happened in, and the very one that he dumped you off like trash last night, after what you’d gone through to tell him the extent of your feelings. He wasn’t functioning on a full level from the second he pulled into the parking lot.

~*~

You could still feel him, your body sore, brain picking up seconds after you opened your eyes, toes hitting the blush rug underneath your bed. Your sclera was bloodshot, burning, clouding over as you passed by pictures of you with Steve, and quite a few you’d taken of him solo, that you had on the corkboard above your desk. You’d deal with taking everything down later, unsure what you would be doing with the items. Forgoing breakfast was a given, your stomach in knots. Showering went painfully fast, leading you right into putting on your work uniform.

You barely made it three hours into your shift, headache, heartache going head to head, and your boss had noticed your discomfort, gently releasing you for the day. Only one person made everything better, but that was no longer an option. Your confession sets you free, backfiring what type of freedom you wanted to occur. It was eleven o’clock when you dock yourself into Family Video’s parking lot, relieved Steve was on his normal lunch hour. Even if you can spend time with Robin, it will help.

You can hurry, you don’t have to see his face.

Fate has other plans.

You’re helping Robin unpack some candy shipments when his car pulls in about half an hour early. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, so that’s why she’d assumed you didn’t want a male presence around. You’re honestly shocked she hasn’t clocked Steve as the mystery man she’s known about the past two years.

“Don’t worry,” she says, upon seeing your soured, slightly fearful expression. “It’s just our doofus. He’s been in a brooding mood today, probably why he’s back early.”

A mood? So you have ruined it all.

You nod, forcing yourself to stay put, immediately gaining on deep breathing. At least you don’t shake when you begin to alphabetize the candy. You can hear her greet Steve before he even gets a word in. She snatches some kind of paper bag, that you assume he brought back for her — away, rifling through its contents as she speaks.

“Dingus, you still have that bottle of Tylenol in your car?”

Steve’s heart is in his throat, wrapping him tighter than Vecna’s hive minds did. He gives a silent yes, head trying to lean around a few shelves. Fuck. Of course that was your car out front, he wasn’t just imagining shit. He’s hopeful, anxious. What are you here for? Who?

“Good. Can you go get it, please? She doesn’t feel good and she’s been helping me all morning.”

Immediate worry doesn’t cover it. You’re here and not at work, and you’re sick? Steve snaps out of what trance he’s in, eyes pinching closed and he nods rapidly. “Shit, yeah. I’ll go get it. Here, Robs. Can you take my water to her?” He hands off his half drank bottle without question, moving back outside to get the medicine.

It’s funny, the look on your face as Robin presents you with his drink. You all share off of one another all the time. She places the food bag beside her, to which you politely decline her offer for some. Doesn’t matter if you haven’t eaten, you can’t.

“I know he has cooties, but I think we’re safe.” She shoulder bumps you, trying to get a smile. When you barely lift your mouth, she goes into her version of mom mode. It dawns on her and it comes from her mouth without tact.

“Wait, is this about that mystery guy who took your virginity? The one you’ve been seeing for two years? Holy shit, did he finally commit?”

If Robin couldn’t tell how you felt about Steve, or see anything from his part, then you guess it’s true.

There’s nothing to see.

You can feel your rib cage gape open, heart falling into your ass, strangled by your intestines.

Luckily, Steve has perfect timing, appearing right in earshot as Robin reveals information you never told him. The room feels small, you feel as if you could melt into the floor, non-existent. Would it matter? You are starting to think love controls everything, after all. You’re fucking doomed.

He lets his Nikes carry him forward, bottle of Tylenol in his massive hand. He’s starting to tremble, betrayal etched into his mouth, giving away what Robin now feels stupid for not knowing. It all clicks when your moods are matched, your mixed reactions combining.

“Oh. Oh, holy fuck. I’m…” She looks at her best-friend, who is halfway seething to near sobbing, and at you, who cannot look her in the eyes. “Shit, I should’ve known. Why didn’t I know? Fuck. I’ll give you two a minute —“

“Steve?” Your voice is tinged with something, one that has him slightly elated that you’re vocal, and even more pissed at you. He waits, his tongue caught in his throat, about to ask you, but you’re adding on. “May I have two Tylenols please?” Standing on your feet right after.

He’s like a fucking statue, on autopilot, unmoving this time. Robin rises, plucks the bottle gently, shaking out two and drops them into your hand, handing the container back to Steve, ultimately giving his water to you. She mouths an apology, but you’re smiling a tacky, forced grin that looks as if it’s pinching your lips. She’s bound to be upset you both neglected to tell her. Keeping your mouth shut should’ve been the reverse way.

“I’ll call you tonight, Robs. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Hey.” She stops you before you can step back to leave, wrapping her arms around you, maroon coated lips by your ear. “I don’t have a foot fetish, but I really should’ve kept the entirety of my own in there to avoid this.”

That gets you laughing softly, and you don’t look at Steve as you depart from her arms and for your car. He’s still frozen.

Robin does, though, stares right through him. She can see how much he’s hurting. She doesn’t want to judge either side, so she simply reaches up to rub along between his shoulder blades. “If you need to —“

“I’ll be right back.” His eyes are trained on your retreating form, handing her the pills as he follows you.

“That works too!” She points a finger in his direction, sighing. Is everyone else onto this, or is she just off her game?

~*~

You’ve just barely downed the pills, tasting Steve’s cinnamon breath spray, combined with his morning coffee all around the lid of his water. You chug it fast, your back still turned to the front door. That’s when the dumbass little bell rings, slapping back against the door, and his voice comes into play.

“You can taste my mouth on that, right?”

You remain non-verbal. This angers him to the point he steps close enough that you can smell his cologne and aftershave. His tone shatters, emotion bleeding through. “Because friends share things with one another.”

“Well, friends sure as hell don’t fuck!” It snaps free of your mouth, shocking the both of you, plastic crinkling in your hands. Your head is hurting, between your thighs is aching, and you’re positive that a piece of your chest has been carved out.

He’ll always have that, whether he wants it or not.

“They don’t lie about being a virgin, either! They don’t say that it’s been a while when they’re in pain and I’m fucking asking what’s wrong the first time that we have sex! If I would have known, then it would’ve been—”

“Wouldn’t have happened, so I didn’t build some little attachment to you, right?”

Steve visibly recoils.

“Is that really what you thought of me? That I was still that big of an asshole? Because we were already pretty attached. I did everything with you, you practically lived at my house.”

“If you didn’t have a date. Maybe it was just sex, me and you. Still doesn’t answer if you found me attractive. Probably just biased because you were my friend.” Word vomit. Too late to stop now.

Steve mulls over the meaning of were. Past tense? Does it apply to current?

His hands go onto his hips, a sidestep, and he turns back to look at you in astonishment, having to swipe aggressively at the wetness in his eyes. He doesn’t even know where to begin with everything you just said. His brain is screaming to tell you that no, he’s always found you fucking beautiful. That he would have preferred you over all of those dates, or any that he’s ever had for that matter. But he’s so confused about letting anything in, his tongue becomes tied, only able to get out one lame question. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

When your gaze flickers up, you see he’s snarling, but there’s tears clouding his vision. You’re a little lighter in how you speak to him, dismantling your armor. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was a loser, I didn’t want our first time to be about that, I didn’t think you would want to… I didn’t mean to — I’m sorry, Steve.”

He marvels. You really thought that? Did he not express his care for you?

“I would’ve made it better for you. Fuck, were you even okay after it happened?”

His moral compass is extraordinary nowadays, and it does make you hesitant, but you let your fingers cup his cheek. “It was the best. You were the best. I wanted it to happen with you. And it’s something that I would never take back.”

Your teeth start to chatter, your own tears forming. You want to console further, to wipe away his. But you start to let your hand slip. Steve catches it, holding your fingers in his palm, wrapping his digits around to lace. His deep voice drags along each syllable, crooked and wet with emotion. “Please let me hold you before you leave?”

And god, do you want to. You’ve never needed anything more. But if you let him… You just refuse to put yourself into that place right now. You shake your head, replacing your hand with his water bottle. His tongue pokes at his cheek, he shakes his head, attempting to argue. He closes his fist around the plastic.

“I meant what I said last night. And I realize that I ruined everything, Steve.” He can’t speak, why isn’t he able to disagree, why is it like he’s drowning, running in slow motion?

“I just don’t know if it can be repaired.” By the time you slide into your car, hand over your face, arm propped to your steering wheel, body heavy into your seat, Steve finds himself worked up to the point that he can’t bear to be around you, he can’t watch this, his figure pivoting, and he returns straight into the store, booking it to the break room.

~*~

After you’ve cried for what feels like forever, embarrassing yourself, light headed with guilt, you don’t end up driving yourself home, unable to do it in this state. You make your way to a pay phone to call Nancy. How fucking ironic. What’s worse, is that she can’t make it, you find out, as Jonathan Byers pulls up in her station wagon, letting you know that she’s sorry, but she got a call back to her job. You assure him it’s fine, grateful another friend is here, at least, joining him.

He doesn’t press you. But he knows. He’s one of them that pegged it from the start, he and Nance both.

“You okay?” Is his gruff question.

“Yeah, I just have to go home.”

He says nothing else. But what neither of you see, is Steve Harrington, as he’s just getting to the doorway, regretting his decision to not go back once he realized you didn’t leave, unable to stand you being that upset and not trying to do something (if he could) — watching the affection Jonathan Byers extends your way, and your rejection of any reluctance to accept it. His amber eyes are smoldering, his fist clenched, every muscle rigid, heart rate firing off rapid shots.

“Steve…” Robin tries, folding in beside him, seeing his dismissal of logic, his brain switching, latching onto primal panic. “You’re at work, remember? Video tapes, acne covered boss?”

But he’s throwing off his vest in response and striding towards his car, ignoring her pleas.

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - three

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii; part iv

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin.

With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice—it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself.

While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages.

You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into that situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible.

It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group.

Kie, Pope, John B…weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a weird balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence.

You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in your life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the fucking chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst.

It was a burden you bore proudly, protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity.

While others your age worried about stupid matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without. 

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending beating in his eyes.

You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream.

You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it. 

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, you knew that. His expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," his tone was condescending, like you were a child, “You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too. And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains in your room, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, clearly growing frustrated with your stubbornness, “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair. 

“They chew up people like you.”

 “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that.

And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty. 

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing in the small space. 

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, “Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no clipped answer from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing.

He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different.

Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning. 

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, the frame sturdy.

That’s it! 

You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances.

Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was strong enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building. 

You gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building.

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel. 

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations or politeness.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, “It’s important.”

He scribbled down an address on a piece of paper and thrusted it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him.

Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before running out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline pumping in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shouted, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a moment.

You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra. 

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp,“You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden changes in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

“What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at his chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe nodded in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained unwavering. He was being dead serious.

Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, but now?

“I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened.

Oh. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him.

You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you. 

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck.  “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go. 

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into, again. The events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly, "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere.

There were more important things to worry about. 

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives. 

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream.

You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you. 

And then there was Rafe.

The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully. 

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t.

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat.

It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. 

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh. 

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you

It was a lot to process, and you handy had the time to figure everything out yet.

His fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you. 

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin. 

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it. 

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up.

It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears. 

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you had been feeling deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead.

All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe. But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…”

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating. 

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead.

Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.” 

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security. 

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making. 

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

His hold tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again.

“Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him. Was he telling you to spoon him?

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you did as he asked, turning onto your side to face away from him.

He moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like some kind of shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin. 

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

These were dangerous waters.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you moved again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his hoarse, “’M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head.

Rafe's reaction was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me to stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted.

You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire you needed to reach.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit.

You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts turning to mush as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening.

His breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me come,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised,“Want to feel you dripping around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz inside you building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your pussy.

Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Shit shit”, you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. 

Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he tried to control himself.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in.

His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so so close.

“I c-can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him. 

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You tryn’ to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix.

Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn grew into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch.

You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole.

The taste of him filled your mouth, cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours.

The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m s-so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Come for me, pretty. Wanna to feel you drippin’ all over my cock.”

That was all it took.

With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe, jaw slack open as his hands never left your body.

As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips tender. He murmured soothing words and you swore you were on cloud nine.

You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth. 

But as the pleasure subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, “Need to feel you come inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass,

"Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open,"You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel your cum."

The pet name did it.

With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his ass as he drove into you in a mean mating press. His pace was relentless, like he’d die if he stopped.

The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, only amplified the passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Come for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising.

And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. Your own body still buzzed with the aftermath of your pleasure.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that left you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as his lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss so different to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but you broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed, "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the rhythm of his heartbeat, and his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you weren’t feeling so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else.

He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering, "I know, Maybank," he whispered,"I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?"

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you a little strength.

After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. 

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly.

Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

[evilminji]

Oh god :Dc a Danny Summons Contract

No you guys DON'T UNDERSTAND-!

Just. Danny! Only Danny! He fucked up. Some ancient Warring States Ninja fucked up. They BOTH agreed to NEVER talk about it again.

Cause like? That ninja? Was a GROWN ASS MAN. A qualified BAMF of the highest order. He WAS the Danger, thank you very much. So, he? Will NEVER live down being saved by...well...

*holds up wildly struggling, noodle limbed, sad wet raccoon havin a terrible day lookin, meat thresher on legs*

THIS.

It's a BABY. Honestly, his Clan's TODDLERS know how to throw better punch. This scrawny infant baby child is both? His new son. AND an embarrassing trainwreck in motion. FFS kid, that's not how you- No! NO! Don't you DARE bite that opponent! You don't know where they've B-!

Kid they could have BEEN POISONED!!! Spit um OUT! DROP UM! Drop that RIGHT NOW! What are you? A dead Inuzuka? A god forsaken Hatake!? DROP IT!!!

It...sure is An Adventure™.

One of many early "here's how you DON'T make a Summoning contract" experiments, that Clans without seal masters were attempting. He's honestly lucky HIS attempt ended with him still... you know... ALIVE. Problem, though? After bunking for like... a few months? A year? In the command center?

And you know, terrorizing the GIW into complete collapse. Parenting him through some pretty serious life changes. Somehow making Sam MORE terrifying. And a whole host of off screen ninja shenanigans? They figure out? Oh. Only way to send him HOME is to either accept or refuse a Contract.

They gotta make one.

First they head to Frostbite for a recommendation, then? Off to a reputable Ghost Lawyer they go! They have to camp in the waiting room for like... a week. But? Worth it! The contract is AMAZING. And terrifying! Protects them both. Can't be used against EITHER. And that loophole you're thinking off? Ten pages worth of point 4 script, twenty three yards down, for why it's a BAD IDEA and breaks contract~!

Neither of them can make the other do SHIT! Only fully consensual, mutually beneficial, ass kicking here! If we FEEL LIKE IT!

Ninja dad insisted. Never sign a contract with anything less then extreme paranoia, kid! Leave no "implied" or "spirit of the rules"! Loopholes are holes in your armor, with which your enemy stabs you in the back!

Danny, tearfully, sends ninja dad home.

Gross. Emotions all over his armor. If only there wasn't all this sand in his eyes, he'd definitely complain about it. *stoic ninja hug*

Danny? Become a king. One of many. An Ancient. Becomes FUCKING HUUUUUUUUGE. Like? "Aw, your city is so pwecious~☆ n smol~♡! Whats it called again? New York?" Huge. A fuckin LEVIATHAN made of void, stars, and space ice. A Winter corpse, marked by lightning, that became the night sky itself. With a crown of aurora borealis, ever shifting, like flame.

Proportional, in a way, to Summon Bosses. Just as a normal human is to a normal toad, a normal cat, a normal slug. So too, is Danny LARGER then them.

You know... when he feels like it.

The contract? Passes down. Ninja dad does warn his kin. Prooooobably not gonna answer you. He only answers ME cause I'm, well, ME.

Fuckin BET. They declare. And lose. Repeatedly.

Time marches on. The Senju and Uchiha has their Drama. Dear KAMI do they Have Their Drama. Please Stop, says everyone. They... do not. The contract? Fuckin STOLEN. Because of course it is.

It's a HUGE, glowing, death radiating Summons Contract kept in a shrine behind like... SO MANY seals. It makes anyone less then a full grown JOUNIN physically SICK to even touch! Prolonged exposure kills people! Of COURSE it gets fuckin stolen. It's obviously a super, mega, ultra rare AMAZEBALLS Summon Contract... right?

Eeeeeeeeeeeh *so-so hand motion* KINDA!

It IS technically that.

They ain't wrong. Cause Danny IS an Adult now. A King. Connected to the Zone. An ANCIENT. Beyond and Above his mortal origins, even as, by being a Halfa, he is utterly the same. That contract is as close as one could GET to having a contract with the Sage himself.

You know... if he answered you.

Felt like your petty bullshit was worth getting up off the couch for.

Not to MENTION? He can make clones! Like.... billions of them now. Has a skeleton army. Is kinda one of the stronger Ancients. But that's not the point. The POINT? Clones. Don't have to be EQUAL facets of self.

You CAN make a .00001% clone of yourself!

Behold *summons poof noise* Lil Baby Man!

The harbinger of Danny! Here to Test Your VIBEZ™. He sends them each time. To be an adorable menace. Cause problems on purpose. Be gremlins, chew on table legs, maybe. You know, the works! They RADIATE his " I Am Death." Energy. But also his "winter, protection, and starlight" vibes... if you're brave enough to LOOK.

If you don't flinch away from a spirit of the dead. Can embrace the chaotic nature of a Zone ghost. Are kind to something that isn't what you expected, that you can USE, that appears weaker then you. Something that seems dumb. Distractable. Useless in battle.

Can you be kind? Do you immediately give up? To recognize a test when you see one? Is your first impulse cruelty? Distain? It tells Danny a lot. Saves him time.

Which? Is how a young Itachi, freshly Jounin'd, gets thrown through an old and rotting wooden gate into what LOOKS like a vaguely demonic death shrine. Hmmm, concerning. Baby 'tachi has been separated from his teammates. Is having a Bad Time™. The crows can't really help much here.

And, well, that IS a Summoning contract...

He's outnumbered. Low on both weapons and Chakra. Refuses to do anything BUT return home to his family. His baby brother. Is it WISE? No. It is in fact, incredibly, incredibly UNWISE. He has no idea what he'll be agreeing too. But... so long as he live just a bit longer...

He slams an earth wall against the entrance.

Falls back to the Glowing Contract.

Stumbles, as even landing near it makes his insides revolt. His skin prickle and burn. Colder then the nine tails Chakra, emptier, yet somehow endlessly more ABSOLUTE.

It's like the very Chakra in his body screams against it. Rejects it's mere presence. As though all thing alive REFUSE it with desperation and fear. He has no time to muse upon this. It hurt his hand to touch. He does so anyway. Struggling to hold the earthwall against enemy attacks.

He doesn't bother to read the contract. Flings it from the pedestal, to unravel, so he may sign quickly. There. With a practiced motion, he nicks his finger, and scrawls his future away. Whatever demons may come. Whatever monsters this brings. Please... let him live long enough to say goodbye.

The world CRACKS as he summons.

Death and the Shinigami are not the same.

Even those without the ability to sense are battered by the tsunami of... not killing intent. No. There is no intent. No killing. Just... knowing. Heraldry. That Death comes for us all. You can not escape. Foolish and small, is this what you waste your existence on? Ants before a god. Dust before the heavens. He... he can not... breathe...

Frozen. Eyes wide. Sharigan spinning, spinning, spinning. Capturing the delicate lace of nothingness, absence of life, as it drifts by. Unable to move from where he kneels, bloody hand pressed to the ground, in a Summoning.

What Has He Done?

Outside there is panic. Screaming. They flee. He... he wishes he could flee. W...why can't he-? *THHHWAP!* Mmmmph?! Something small and almost bird shaped smacks into his face like a flung ration. Tiny arms spread wide to cling to his bangs and dangle. The deathy power fades... almost... almost as though it were... a threat display?

He focuses on the tiny creature whining and hugging his face. It... is a floating snake toddler? Or is it dragon? They have sharp little claws and stars along their face, a tiny whispy mane of white. Likely a dragon child then. They stick their small tounge out slightly, eyes the blankly trusting stare of small children everywhere.

He clearly want to be carried. Ah. Of course, little one.

Did... did he agree to raise a dragon?

Just?

Itachi, smol. Serious. With lil baby man floped on his head or tucked lovingly in his arms. The TEXTBOOK definition of "he don't bite" "YES HE DO!!!" For everyone but Itachi and Sasuke. To whom he is, of course, an INNOCENT BABY who has NEVER done anything wrong EVER. An angel! Why is everyone being so MEAN to poor innocent baby man? Boo hoo~!

It fucks up SO MANY plans.

Because Itachi. A smol child. INSISTS he is a Father now. What are you going to do? Say he can be? Why? Because he's a CHILD? Which is it? Is he a Jounin or a Dependant? An adult in the eyes of the law or a child to be protected by said law from pushing him off to war? Old enough to die, old enough to parent his dragon son!

And SORRY Father, he CANT join Anbu. Who would be there for his child? Ah, he should join a parenting group. *various competent parent instincts go haywire over this tiny Uchiha child in need of parenting* Danzo? For some reason his son seems to really, REALLY hate him. Better avoid him. His child doesn't know yet not to bite respected elders.

Sasuke? Gets to be an UNCLE! To a DRAGON! He takes his job very seriously.

It's the best PR the clan has ever had.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes @mutable-manifestation