#ends up seeing something strange about him!

[therightbeaches]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 ⋆ 𝐚. 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

synopsis: following a near-encounter with death, your not-quite-boyfriend slash boss takes it upon himself to take care of you. [5.7k] contents: fem!bau!reader, reader was mentioned to be hurt but no gory descriptions about what happened, but theres semi-graphic (?) descriptions of hypothetical injury, first kiss, soft hotch, this is fully self-indulgent fluff (forgive me) a/n: i've never written for criminal minds before and i am rather nervous so please dont criticize too harshly :') + i tried to not make him too ooc (not sure how well that worked out.) i also beg for one-shot requests because i love writing them :p reblogs and comments are more than appreciated ♡ i hope you enjoy!

Sense by sense you come to.

Taste. On your tongue lingers the metallic taste of blood. It coats your throat thick like petroleum jelly. The aftertaste of artificial sweetener. Saccharine.

Smell. It’s sterile, alcohol swabs. Dully sweet like laundry. Coffee and creamer. So good and warm it’s nauseating.

Hearing. Steady beeping somewhere from your right. The rustle of fabric. Birdsong bleeds through thick walls. A phone rings, shrill and stark amongst the dull hustle and bustle outside of your room, and a woman speaks unintelligibly.

Touch. A pinprick tag itches against the back of your neck. Scratchy cotton sheets and a gauzy blanket and a too-flat pillow. Then a slow-burning hurt that climbs through your limbs like being devoured by flame, and you think that if you didn’t already meet your end then this must be what it’s like.

Your eyes blink open. The fluorescent lights above are too bright for you to see anything. Metal clinks as someone opens the curtains, then, Aaron’s face comes into your view in a hazy blur. He has a big bandage on his left cheek and prominent dark circles but otherwise looks well enough.

“Hello,” he says, and a warm paper cup of coffee is pushed into your stiff hands. “How do you feel?”

“Bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry. How much does it hurt?”

“Um... a six and a half. I mostly feel really out of it.”

“They’ve given you as much painkillers as they can. I bet that the brain fog will lift once you have something solid to eat.”

You push yourself up slowly as he edges into focus. In one hand he has a black duffel bag with your old shirt’s dirty sleeve hanging out of the zipper top, white fabric stained rust-brown with dirt and old blood. In the other, a thick manila folder with a seal adorning the front and his pen shoved into the crease.

There’s a strange silence then; strange within itself and strange in the fact that, with him, silence is never strange. His lips twitch downwards: he can feel it too. Then he inhales sharply as though it stings to speak.

“You were more than brave out there. You saved Julia’s life.”

“Thank you. That’s what I wanted to do.”

Your tone must not be convincing enough because he puts the bag down and curls his fingers around the half-rails of your bed, reinforces the idea with a pointed look and sighs, “I’m being serious. We wouldn’t have made it in time to help her without your courage.”

“Thank you,” you say again, milder this time.

He doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t need to. The sort of unspoken communication that blossoms with time and effort; he looks out for you, and in turn you look out for him. It’s the same for the rest of the team, of course, but it’s no coincidence that you’re the one he always picks to watch his six in the field. And, again, he needn’t speak for you to know. Perhaps born from the innate desire to wane the burn of vulnerability; words stamped across his skin invisible to the untrained eye.

It’s different this time, though. He’s leaving not because he wants to — rather, he has to, stolen away from you as you were him by your profession (a whole thirty-six hours he had to spend without you around to nag him, what a tragedy it was!) You’d expected him to come just to leave since the moment you saw him, but perhaps foolishly, you’d clung to a shard of hope that’d cut up and bloodied your palms. You rub them together self-consciously.

He waves the folder in the air unenthusiastically and, despite him knowing you’ve already put the pieces together, voices it anyway.

“I can’t really stay for long,” he says simply.

“Where are you going?”

A prompt, disguised by niceties in typical fashion, though entirely unnecessary with him: when will I be able to see you again?

He sucks on his teeth and flips the folder open. “Albany. I think a day or two at most and we’ll be back.” He spares the details of the case lest you worry yourself to your grave. Your recent brush with death has already been nearly too much for the team to handle.

You don’t mean to slip into the habit of doubting him, not Aaron, who knows better than to lie to you because always he’ll splinter, crack, then crumble into a fine powder under the weight of your gaze. He’s smart, so smart, and so perceptive and by God if you know anything, you know him — down to the lines of his fingerprints and each individual eyelash across his waterlines, and you know now that something is troubling him.

“What is it?” you ask.

His brows crease in the center like you’ve said something offensive. “What is what?”

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m not,” he says, sounding like he’s sulking.

He knows something that you don’t and he doesn’t want to tell you — evident through the bob of his Adam’s apple with a thick swallow, the whitening of his knuckles around the bed’s guard rails. You give your cup a perfunctory squeeze and the plastic lid pops off and skitters to the ground.

There’s another silence wherein you wait, he waits too, staring at you dumbly. An eternity passes till he brushes his thumb over the length of your forearm, elbow to wrist, then traces the ridges of your knuckles before letting his arm drop limply to his side. He looks around to make sure nobody is within earshot and draws the blue privacy curtains around your bed to enforce extra precaution.

“I was just worried,” he finally says, his voice lowered. “I still am, honestly. You know, seeing you like… this.” Like, sick and weak, strung up with IVs like a puppet and unable to move without strain. “And I don’t want to leave you,” he adds as an afterthought.

In the presence of other agents, doctors, strangers, he’s a professional. He knows how to keep things curt and platonic, but when it’s just you and him, I missed you, I was worried about you, I need you around, I can’t lose you.

The way he speaks to you makes you feel something. He worries about you every moment you’re on the field. He frets over you when you’re ill, misses you when you’re apart, thinks about you all the time. Long ago you’d passed the threshold between mere team members to friends, and now, you’re touching base with what’s next. Beyond friends. Borderline lovers. Whatever that could mean for you. And the vulnerability in his voice strikes you, making him sound so small, so pained by your pain.

“You don’t need to worry,” you say, hoping to soothe his qualms. “I feel alright.”

“I can’t help it. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” is your light response, then a switch of the topic, and you ask again, “Will you tell me about the case?”

He puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, then it moves to push your hair out of your eyes. Lingers in a soft caress on your cheek and your palm fits over the back of it when you lift your hand to cover his.

“Like I said, I think it’ll only be a couple days. Don’t stress yourself out over it. I want you to focus on getting better, alright?”

“Can you call me?” you ask.

“Every chance I get.”

And, trapped in the makeshift prison of your hospital bed, you can only croak out a weak goodbye that scratches your throat as you watch him leave.

⊹₊ 𐙚

It’s been a week since they discharged you from the hospital, assigned a lot of rest and fluids. Seldom a word from Aaron, though, and you, too, are beginning to fret just like he had over you. Your cuticles are peeled from existence, you’ve bit your nails too short and raw and red, your lips are chapped to the point your mouth tastes of metal more often than not.

Penelope has been more than kind and has kept you company in your too-empty apartment, even bringing over the case file and a grainy image of the evidence board sent over by the rest of the team for your viewing pleasure. You didn’t have much of value to add and ended up feeling more useless than you were to begin with.

Now, your gaze is trained on the toes of your too-big socks. A seam is misaligned along the top and the heel has pulled up to the back of your ankle. And you think of him. He’s all you can think about as of late. Feels something like nausea crawling up your throat to think of something happening to him.

Nervous. On edge. Sick with worry. He said one or two days. It’s been six and counting, who knows what could have happened to him out there, he was being secretive about it and he’s never secretive with you. Not you, why wouldn’t he tell you what was happening? Why wouldn’t he let on any details about the case? What if he’d anticipated getting hurt or —

You don’t dare entertain the thought. The only reason you’d imagined it up in the first place is because it happened to you. In the end, you’re still very much human no matter how much bureaucratic authority you have. That’s to say, you’re very much flesh and blood and bone, and from the safety of your apartment Aaron is even more so when he’s out on the field. Flesh can be cut, torn apart, blood can spill unstoppably like a faucet, bone can shatter into a million unfixable pieces. A bulletproof vest will do nothing against a knife jammed into his neck or a shotgun to the back of his head. You shudder and tug at your socks to un-bunch them from your heels.

In the middle of your bout of overthinking, the lock on your door clicks and turns and it swings open with a quiet creak. Aaron stands in the doorway, backlit by the dingy lights outside, akin to an angel with the cast of his hair and the contours of his face dipped in shadow.

“Hello? Honey, I have something for you,” is the first thing he says, the silhouette of his arm twisted to hide something behind his back. From his other hand dangles his go-bag, which falls to the floor of your living room with a dull thud. He peels out of his jacket and tosses it over the back of a chair.

The relief chokes you. Strangles you till you’re blue in the face. You’re struck speechless and can only watch as he pushes the door closed behind him and tosses the keys into the catchall on the hall table, toes off his shoes, then comes over to sit with you on the couch. Plastic crinkles behind his back as he moves closer.

“I’ve got something,” he says again. “A present for you.”

“Aaron-”

“Before you say I didn’t need to, I wanted to,” he interjects, waving a hand to stop you. “I saw them while I was out and thought of you.”

“The anticipation is killing me.”

All turbulent emotions vanish like morning dew on a sunny afternoon, your heart thrumming hard against the confinement of your ribs. You let yourself think it’s only because you’re just excited to see him in good spirits, certainly not because he places a hand on your knee and squeezes lightly, or looks at you with poorly-concealed adoration in his gaze, or the knowledge of the fact he thinks of you often enough to go out of his way to get you something nice.

From behind his back, he produces a bouquet of pink roses wrapped neatly in a matching shade of cellophane with a flourish and you nearly fall to the ground. He’s brought you flowers. Roses. He saw roses while he was out and they made him think of you, and that thought alone nearly has you knocked out cold.

You’re able to mutter his name before you reach for his shoulders for a hug, and he lets out a small huff as he’s pushed down to lay back on the couch with your arms around him.

“Consider this my apology for being too busy to call,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you say, breathless. “Consider your apology accepted.”

His free hand rubs up and down your back, lingering flush to the space between your shoulder blades to press you close to his chest. “How have you been?”

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah? Has Garcia been taking good care of you?”

You nod into his shoulder. “You know her.”

“That I do. Do you have a vase that I can put your flowers in?”

“There’s one in the kitchen cabinet.”

But he doesn’t yet stand to retrieve it, too engrossed in the warmth of your hug. This is not how a boss acts with his subordinate. Not even how a friend would act. If he were just a friend he wouldn’t come to you first, because your space is his space, and he wouldn’t have brought you a really nice bouquet, and he wouldn’t find such comfort in your embrace and the smell of your perfume that he goes slack under you. Him and you, always, together.

A moment passes and he shifts out from beneath you. You watch him get up with remorse, his hand holding onto yours till the distance draws his fingers away.

“You know,” he begins, rummaging around in your cabinets to find the aforementioned vase, “I’ve been honing in on my cooking skills.”

“That so?” you ask from the sofa, jelly-limbed with your neck craned to watch him.

“I can make stir fry if you want dinner.” His arm retracts from the cabinet, hand around the neck of your vase.

So he cooks for you. Insists upon it, even. Even though the hospital cleared you fine to go home and you feel more or less well, he insists on taking care of you. You let him. Maybe for his peace of mind. A chance to take care of you just like you’ve taken care of him countless times before. You won’t pretend to not like having him dote on you.

The roses sit between you, lit by warm candlelight because the overhead light buzzes too loud and the bulb flickers when you turn it on. It’s sweet and it’s romantic, shit, you really shouldn’t be getting so personally involved with your boss. The no-fraternization rules implemented by the Bureau higher-ups have been hammered into your skull since the day you joined, yet just look at you. Too late for go-backs now.

Over the table, you say, “You can stay the night, if you want to.”

It’s not that you’re implying anything because you’re not, voice void of sexual innuendo. He doesn’t seem to take it in such a way anyway. His gaze meets yours and he draws closer with a hand curled like a cage atop yours.

“I will,” he replies. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

He’s slept over before a secret half-a-dozen or so times, mostly on the couch. Only in your bed once. That one time was after you’d came home from a particularly bad case, and it was the second time you’d seen him as upset as he was. Beaten black and blue, scraped up worse than he’s ever been on the job. You’d diligently cleaned his wounds up (always too proud to sit in the back of an ambulance and let a professional take care of it), sat with him until he fell asleep, then you never spoke of it again.

Tonight he sleeps beside you. Blissfully unaware to the way you stare at his profile — the line of his nose, the mess of his hair where it’s fallen over his forehead, the way the light catches on his fluttering lashes and turns them a pale blue. The back of your knuckles run against his cheekbone. Tender, soft, so unlike most anything else he knows now.

He’s beautiful. All of you belongs to him.

You stir to Aaron’s heavy arm draped across your abdomen and crack one eye open to see him staring at you. The room is warm, sunshine spilling over his back to paint him shining gold, and the tip his of nose presses against your neck when he sees you’re awake. He must’ve gotten up before you woke because you can smell fresh-cut grass from the open window and the scent of coffee brewing floats in from the kitchen, and from outside you can hear the humming drone of a lawnmower, the song of morning birds chirping.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, more a murmur than anything.

You shake your head no. A part of you — the small part that yearned for his care and attention long before now — is awestruck. You’ve got Aaron in your bed, the same Aaron who bleeds and hurts and fights beside you, the man who hadn’t wanted you on the team in the first place, and he’s touching you like you’re made of glass.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m okay for now,” you reply.

“Are you sure, honey? I can cut up some fruit for you. You could do with some vitamins… maybe some sun, too.” Mournfully, he gets up from bed, leaving you with only the warmth of the sheets where he lay just a moment ago. You watch, blinking slow, breathing slow.

“I’m really fine,” you insist meekly, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

With hands planted on either side of your head, he leans back over you in bed, brows pulled in concern like you’re still bedridden in the hospital. His thumb ghosts over the delicate skin of your undereye, then lower, feather-light down the slope of your jaw and to where your collarbone peeks out from the neck of your shirt.

“I’ll bring you a bowl,” he says, disregarding the rejection.

And then he kisses you before he leaves to the kitchen. Nothing full-fledged, only a brief press of his lips to your cheek, but it renders a swell in your gut, too hot beneath your quilt, breathless like your heart is going to rip straight out of your chest and chase him down to kiss him again. The print of his lips burns white-hot. A brand on your skin.

He pauses in the threshold of your bedroom and looks back. “I’m sorry if that was… weird.”

“No! No, it wasn’t weird. I liked it, actually.”

“Oh, okay.”

Aaron fusses over you incessantly the entire day, from cutting your fruit up to holding your hand to help you to the couch, despite your insistence that you’re fully recovered. He isn’t so used to putting his feelings so brashly on display, but you’ve been walking this tightrope between friends and more for a while and it’s no secret he wants it. Wants you. Wants whatever you may have to offer. No matter if you’re well or not, he’ll want you.

“Thank you,” you say over lunch, picking idly at the tangerine he’d peeled for you. “For staying with me, I mean.”

He lifts his head. He’s opened the window above your sink, citing the lovely weather and your need for sunshine as his reasons for letting the bugs in, and it makes his eyes shine from his seat facing the sun.

You’re like a vampire, he had said. Don’t get me wrong, definitely a beautiful and kind one, but fresh air will do you good, then he’d laughed as he stood in the spill of warmth exuding from the open window.

In his hand is the other half of the tangerine, which he assiduously peels the spongy pith from and discards in a small heap atop your dining table.

“I hope you know that I don’t mind.” Aaron breathes out and hands you two slices stripped of their white viscera. “I like taking care of you. Every so often someone get hurts on the field and it never gets more comfortable to deal with. It makes me feel… good to be here with you.”

“That’s really nice of you to say.”

“It’s only the truth.”

You’ve been better for the greater part of a week and no longer need babying like you did at the start, you think, but withhold on commenting for fear that he thinks you don’t like having him around. You more than like it, really, and you like it even more when he leans over the table enticingly.

He’s smiling widely when he speaks. “And the company is the best part.”

“Even if the company is a vampire?” You touch the side of his throat, flush over his jugular where a vampire might bite. His heart thrums hard beneath the pads of your fingers when you push down with the faintest pressure.

“Even so.”

⊹₊ 𐙚

“Can I see you in my office? There’s something that I want to talk to you about.”

You stand from your desk. Aaron — rather, Hotch, because you’re at work — has been staring at you through his window the entire morning like a reverse-scenario zoo animal in an enclosure. It’s been unsettling to feel someone’s eyes on you perpetually but you let it slide because you know he’s just worried. He made it very clear that he didn’t want you coming back to the office so soon, for worry you might bump a fading bruise on the exceedingly dangerous desks in the bullpen or injure your back further by sitting in the expensive, cushy roller chair.

It’s an overcast Monday in light of your sunny weekend. Aaron had messaged you at five-thirty in the morning, insisted heavily that if you intended on coming in today then it had better be with a warm coat on. You’d come to a tentative middle ground via a knit sweater that he likes because Emily runs cold and makes sure the whole office knows it (Seriously, you can’t remember the last time she’d allowed it to be less than the low eighties, and most of the team would rather bear the heat than listen to her gripe about how cold it is. Today, it’s freezing. The heat is broken and you figure you’ll have to deal with it once she comes in.)

He’s waiting for you when you step in and close the door behind you, drawing the blinds. “How are you?”

“I’m well. I’d be better if you’d stayed home to rest.”

“I promise I’m recovered enough for desk work, Aaron.”

He grumbles with no real upset and beckons for you to come around the other side of his desk. When you do and lean back with palms braced over the lip, a broad hand slips around your waist to touch your back. He drops it quickly. So unprofessional, you might tease, if you weren’t so pleased with the fact that he’s unabashedly touching you at work.

Something in the air has shifted. Following the night you spent together, it’s as if the spark between you has turned into a real firecracker, a sparkling dazzle of neon color and fizzling light. He’d left Saturday afternoon after a lot of coaxing that you’d be alright alone, made you promise you’d eat real food and not just cereal and frozen pizza and TV dinners. Most importantly, he wouldn’t leave without kissing you silly all over your cheeks and forehead and jaw. And when you’d anticipated the killing blow and closed your eyes and parted your lips, he’d bid you goodbye with an affectionate pat to your shoulder.

It was cruel, but you don’t mind waiting for a real kiss. The riper the fruit, the sweeter the juice, isn’t that what they say? This thing, for lack of a better word, with Aaron being as discernible as it is, is still relatively new. Not to mention he’s navigating romance for the first time again after Haley, so you’re more than willing to take it slow with him.

“What did you do over the rest of the weekend?” he asks conversationally.

“You know, the ushe.” You tuck your cold hands between your knees, press your lips together like you’re really devastated by the answer you’d come up with. “I laid around feeling sorry for myself, missing you…” you trail off, wistful.

“You poor thing,” Aaron responds sympathetically. “What can I do?”

You lean forward with a mock show of great sadness, though not without an underlying coquettish, hopeful demeanor. “The only thing that would make it all better is dinner later tonight with someone special.”

“What a coincidence. I was just thinking of asking my own someone special if she wanted to get takeout and spend the night at mine after work.”

It’s awful, the way he’s staring at you and beaming. Like you’re the one who hung all the stars in the sky, crafted the constellations just for him; like you control the tide of the ocean and the spin of the Earth; like you’re the light that makes the moon glow. Makes you want to grab him by his hand and bring him back to your place and never let him leave the comfort of your apartment. Keep him safe and warm and content.

You settle instead on smoothing his lapels down. He isn’t propositioning you when he asks you to stay over — never would he be so blatant, and you don’t think you’re quite involved enough yet for such a risqué offer to be on the table (though the notion has you imagining a torturous handful of things that you wouldn’t dream of telling him about.)

“Tell you what,” he begins. He moves his chair to be positioned in front of you. You have to look directly down to see him face-to-face. “We’ll pick up some dinner and we can watch whatever movie you like. Do you have your go-bag?”

“I do... and if I want to watch Mean Girls?”

“I’ll watch anything you want,” he supplies.

“Oh, how sweet are you?”

“Don’t tell anyone. My professional reputation would be ruined.”

Truth be told, there is a prominent lack of ���professional reputation’ in Aaron’s department, at least within the team. He can pretend as much as he likes for as long as he likes but it’s their specialty to sniff out lies, pick up on secret cues, and of course they notice when he comes into the office with two cups of coffee instead of one, when he holds your hand to help you up the steps of the jet. You’ve received enough conspiratorial looks to know that they know.

You don’t suppose Aaron is your boyfriend. Your relationship with him is a nuanced thing. Becoming the brunt of office gossip is one thing, jeopardizing your careers is another — Strauss has her suspicions and there’s been, well… talk that stokes the (albeit small) kindling flame. It comes down to having a discussion that will remain on the back burner until the both of you can sit down and discuss the professional implications and the other difficult things that Aaron doesn’t want to talk about.

Dark has long since encompassed the Bureau by the time that he decides to be done working. You’ve been waiting on the couch in his office for the better part of the day, his suit jacket draped over your legs fashioned into an impromptu blanket. And then there’s the shuffling of loose-leaf paper shoved into folders, the scratch of his chair’s wheels as he pushes it in.

The toes of his shiny oxfords come into view and a kind hand pushes a loose lock of hair out of your face. “Are you ready?”

He wedges his hand beneath the small of your back to get you up. You’re tired from your day and limp when he encourages you to sit, but ultimately allow him to prop you up against the back of the couch. You take his hand to stand up when he offers it to you.

One and a half years ago, he wouldn’t dream of holding your hand. Wouldn’t even sit next to you in the conference room or on the jet, in fact. But Aaron didn’t really start liking liking you until eight months ago and didn’t tell you for even longer. It took him a long while to gather the courage to come out and just say it like any normal adult with feelings might do.

If you told your former self you’d wind up holding hands with Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner, going home to eat dinner with him and sleep in his bed, you’d have laughed in your own face. The most you’d ever let yourself indulge in such a fantasy prior to his grandiose confession of more than friendly feelings was maybe, just maybe, in an alternate timeline you’d met Aaron under different circumstances and it would have been history.

But you have him in this timeline. You have him picking up your dinner, driving you to his house, crouching down in front of you to undo the buckles keeping the straps of your kitten heels fastened around your ankles. He rubs your calf after tucking your shoes away before he stands and walks to the kitchen.

“What a long day,” he comments. He loosens the knot of his tie and looks over at you over his shoulder. “For you especially, I imagine. Does it get tiring, laying on the couch in my office?”

“Mhm,” you hum agreeably. “A very long day of very grueling paperwork. My boss can’t stop assigning me more and more when there are other agents who could share the workload.”

You know Aaron is smiling, even as he’s faced with his back to you. It’s clear in his voice. “Maybe your boss just thinks you’re very diligent and produce quality work.”

“That sounds to me a lot like favoritism, Hotchner.” You saunter up behind him, draping your arms around his waist. He tears apart the plastic bag holding your food then separates portions onto two ceramic plates.

“Uh-huh,” he says wryly. “You see, honey, favoritism would be more like if I let a member of my team quote unquote lay down to rest her eyes on my sofa instead of doing her work like I very kindly asked — oh wait, doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“So I am your favorite? Ooh, how scandalous. Imagine if word got out that you were picking favorites.”

“I must be doing something wrong if you have to ask.” Aaron turns and puts a hand on the back of your neck, scoffs, shakes his head good-naturedly. This mood he’s in, playful, teasing, is so rare, and you love it. “Do you ever see me letting Morgan take a nap during work hours?”

“Derek will nap regardless if you let him or not.”

(This is true. You’d caught him sleeping in the conference room once. He’d made you swear not to tell Aaron in exchange for vending machine money — and who were you to deny such a generous offer? Your silence was easily bought via chocolate bars.)

“In that case, I might have to give him a stern talking to.” His expression is grim.

“Oh, please don’t. He gave me money to buy candy from the machines if I swore not to tell you.”

Aaron is delighted by this answer. “But you’re telling me anyway?”

“Does that make me a bad friend?” you ask morosely.

“No, no. You’re the best friend. And an even better subordinate for ratting him out… it’s good to know where your loyalty lies.”

He’s laughing when he says it and then he isn’t laughing a mere moment later. Rather, he’s leaning in on a whim, eyes fluttering shut, a hand over the back of your neck, thumbs a whisper against the curve of your cheek. There’s a perceptible flash that travels like lighting up your spine — he’s going to kiss you for real this time, you know he is, and it’s something you’ve wanted for who-knows how long and it’s finally yours to have. To keep. And it’s not just about the kiss, is it? It’s about Aaron, like it most always is, and you thank your lucky stars one by one to have found a man like him and to be able to keep him.

But it’s over nearly as soon as it began. How torturous for it to end so quickly when you’ve dreamt of kissing him day and night. It’s only right for you to go for another and another and another, and yes, juice is always sweeter when the fruit has had time to ripen.

[ghosty-writes-23]

Kneeling Before Her. - Leon S Kennedy.

Ghosty's Notes: okay so this was a random idea I had randomly thinking about Wife!FemReader + Older!Leon (Between Damnation & Vendetta.) also I wrote this on my phone which is something I don't normally do, but it's like 2am and I can't be stuffed grabbing my laptop, so please forgive me if their is alot of spelling mistakes.

Summary: Y/n and Leon had been fighting alot lately, but even with how much they where fighting it didn't stop them from desiring each other.

NSFW Tags: Smutty Content, Eating Out, Pleading, Body Worship, Desperate!Husband!Leon, Hope for the future, Happy Ending.

Used Pet Names: Darling, Sweetheart, Princess, Love, Good Boy, My Wife.

| ID!PROFESSOR!LEON COMING IN 2 DAYS |

!Unedited!

Word Count: 1.9k

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Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

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Y/n and Leon had been fighting alot recently, from small things such as dirty dishes in the sink to Y/n tripping over Leon's alcohol bottles and she had enough. Tonight was like any other night, Leon was coming home from a mission and smelt like a brewery, the pair had argued yet again, Y/n was upset Leon had come home drunk and Leon was trying to justify he wasn't that drunk yet he could barley walk a straight line, she had guested one of the staff from the bar had called him a taxi because there was no way in hell he would be able to drive in the state he was in.

Sometimes she felt as if Leon treated her as if she was dumb, she knew this wasn't what he really thought of her, but when he was drunk he would treat her as if she was an idiot and it was getting on her last nerve, there is only so much a person can take before they snap, as Leon passed out on the living room couch Y/n had thrown a blanket over him and left a bottle of water and Advil on the coffee table before going upstairs to what used to be their shared bedroom.

Leon mostly slept in the spare bedroom when he was home, it was strange feeling to feel alone in her own house even with Leon home. Shaking her head Y/n closed the door and started to get ready for bed, such as doing her nightly routine of showering, changing into comfortable pajamas, drying her hair and doing nightly skincare and brushing her teeth and taking the last of her medication for the day.

When she got into bed, she couldn't help but wonder how did her and Leon's relationship end up like this, she knew Leon had alot of trauma before they had met, he had warned her that he wasn't the most easiest person to get along with but that didn't stop Y/n, she didn't see Leon as the government agent or the weapon that most people seemed too, but just a man that had the worse timing most of the time but once he started to open up he was a complete sweetheart.

When they had gotten married Y/n and Leon had gotten married in 2006 she thought everything would be perfect, they would have a house maybe out of town, maybe a fixer upper they could do together as a couple project, like an old historical cottage that has a nice front yard where she could plant flowers, maybe have a dog or a cat.

Leon would have left the government and got a less dangerous job after he found out she was pregnant, everything was meant to fall into place, but sometimes promises are broken even by the people we love the most, this had lead Y/n to start wondering was Leon still the man she had fallen in love with and married all those years ago, or was that man gone and replaced with an drunk, anger hollow shell of his former self.

Shaking her head Y/n turned off her bedside table lamp and layed back in bed, all this thinking was hurting her brain so she decided to try and get some sleep, even if she had to force herself too.

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Later on in the night the small city apartment was quiet, the only sound was a ticking clock and the soft hum of the fridge, but upstairs their was a soft buzzing sound and muffled soft mews filtering from under the door. Y/n had her eyes closed as she worked the toy on it's medium setting, after forcing herself to sleep only to end up tossing and turning, she knew the perfect thing to put her to sleep.

It was the ultimate relaxer or so she thought, her bottom lip was between her teeth as her middle finger and ring finger where working her clit, her other hand was working the toy inside her quivering walls. She couldn't remember the last time she had to use her toy to get off, usually her fingers would work just fine but she knew her body was craving something or somebody else.

In her mind was replying the last time Leon had touched her, when her hands where gripping his pillow as her hand was buried in it, his hand was in her hair, tugging firmly but not to roughly as he thrusted into her from behind, he had come home from a stressful work day and needed to let off some steam and who was she to say no to her husband, with Leon's stamina they would at least go for 2 maybe 3 rounds.

But she was soon pulled out of her fantasy when she heard footsteps, she slowly turned off the toy before hearing a soft knock on the door. "Come in." Y/n spoke softly soon the door opened and Leon sheepishly walked in only wearing his briefs and no short, he looked more sober but their was still bags under his eyes. "Did I wake you?" Y/n asked causing Leon to shake his head as he closed the door behind himself.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart." Leon spoke as he started walking towards their old shared bed, Y/ was at a lost for words this was the first time he apologized for anything in the past few weeks, so she was a little surprised but before she could get any words out, Leon slowly lowered himself to his kneeled in front of her, his head down as if he couldn't make eye contact with her.

"I'm so sorry for being a shitty husband, I know I should have come to you, I just didn't want to burden you with my problems, I wanted to protect you from them, but instead I did the exact opposite." Leon says before he shakes his head before finally he looks up at her. "I know I don't deserve you Y/n or your forgiveness, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you." Leon says causing her heart to skip a beat.

"You really hurt me." Y/n started and Leon put his head down like a puppy that was in trouble, "I know princess." Leon says shamefully. "But I am willing to forgive you if you promise this behavior stops now okay, I want you to go to counseling and get help." Y/n says and Leon listens and nods his head. "I'll start looking in the morning." Leon says causing Y/n to smile ever so slightly and nod her head, maybe this wasn't the end of their marriage.

"Good." Y/n said and just as she was about to move over in the bed, Leon reached out to grab her wrist to stop her, but as he did she knew he felt her hand was wet, she saw his eyes widen slightly before he started to bring her hand to his lips. "Leo-." she tried to protest but soon his lips where around her fingers.

the warm and soft feeling of Leon's mouth on her fingers caused her to gasps softly, their was something so erotic about a man on his knees lapping and sucking his wife's juice's off her fingers, especially a man that hasn't tasted her in months. she watched Leon her thighs clenching together as his tongue gently gliding between her fingers.

But soon Leon let her finger's go with a soft pop, a string of his saliva was between her now drool covered fingers and his lips, he looked up at her she could see the desperation and the lust in his eyes, because her were probley mirroring the same look ad if she was honest she was too pent up to let this moment slip through her fingers.

"Can I have more." Leon asked his voice was more husky but still had a slightly desperateness to it. "Will you be a good boy?" Y/n asked with a small tease in her voice but Leon nodded his head quickly, instead of getting up onto the bed so he could be comfortable, Leon was still kneeling on the ground but moved her so she was sideways on the bed but her ass was on the edge of the bed.

Leon started peppering kisses down her ankle, to her legs and then to her thighs, her body was starting to warm up, her thighs clenching with every soft press of his lips, she was nearly about to put him in a headlock between her thighs. When he finally got the edge of her panties that she knew where soaked, she let out a little mew as she could feel his warm breath against her.

"Please can I taste you now sweetheart." Leon softly pleaded as he looked up at her, she knew he was pulling the puppy dog eyes but even with the bags under his blue eyes and the stubble on his face that she knew would be scratching against her inner thigh. Y/n nodded her head again biting her lips.

She could see a small smile come onto Leon's face, as his index finger hooked into the side of her panties, he then lent in and placed a gentle kiss on her aching clit and quivering folds causing a soft moan to leave her lips and her fingers to go into his dark hair. She heard Leon groan softly as he started to lick and suckle as if he was savoring every moment of this.

His name falling off her lips in sweet moans and mews, the sound filled the bedroom as she gently gripped his hair, this was what she had missed the most between their fighting, she missed the intimacy between them, the love, affection, desire, want and need for each other what they can only get for each other, it almost made tears spring to her eyes.

Looking down Y/n saw Leon's face was buried between her holds, his eyes closed as he feasted on her like a starved man, she knew she wasn't going to last long as she already felt the familiar knot forming in her stomach. "It's okay, darling you can come for me." Leon grunted against her flesh, his stubble starching against her inner thighs.

With Leon's permission she came on his tongue with a high pithed cry of his name, her back slightly arching off the bed as her thighs trembled around his head, Leon helped her ride out her orgasm before he pulled away after placing a gentle and loving kiss on her folds, his face was coated in her slick but their was a small blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, there was a slightly glazed over look in his eyes.

But when she looked down, saw that Leon's cock was straining through his brief's he shook his head before slowly standing up. "Tonight was about you, I'll do deal with this." Leon spoke causing her to pout slightly but she nodded his head, he gave her a soft kiss on the forehead before he headed to the bathroom that was connected to their bedroom.

Maybe this was the start of the new beginning, maybe their was hope for their relationship, Y/n could only hope and pray but this was a good start and it could only get better for here....

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2025. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[alltheprompts]

Dp x DC prompt #13 (yay lucky number!)

What if Danny is introduced to the family not as a gremlin, but as his friend from community College and he is so freaking normal that it makes the entire family suspicious. The only reason Jason decided to bring him along is that he knows Danny seems too normal for their cohort and it will utterly freak out Bruce and Tim, confuse Grayson and set off Damian. Jason though, he knows Danny is only normal for the first few times of interaction, then he starts getting weird even by Bat Family standards.

Jason: Hey. I brought my friend from campus tonight.

Danny: Hi! Nice to meet you!

Bat family: *suspicious eyes* Nice to meet you.

Danny: I totally didn't believe Jason when he said he was one of 5 kids but he proved me wrong. Lol.

Bat family: How'd you meet Jason?

Danny: OH! He's been tutoring me in English class and I've been helping him with Calculus. We met at the library when I was trying but failing to type a paper and ended up irritating him with my groaning. He walked right over asked me to shut up and I apologized and said I was having difficulty *insert English homework here* and he had a look utter disgust and surprise and said "how the fuck are you having problems with that?"

Jason: I was disgusted. That was such an easy topic.

Danny: For you maybe! Anyways I said "Well if it's so fucking easy, explain it to me. And he did! With way better clarity then my professor. So I thanked him and asked what I could do in exchange for help. He then told to stay fucking quiet o he can work on his stuff. And we went on about our business. A week later we were both back in the library again and he was banging his head, so I went over and asked if he was okay and he yelled to leave him alone and he just as I was about to leave I noticed he was working on calculus and told Jim I could help if he wanted. He looked at me like I was insane.

Jason: I was cause you are. Most people don't ask to help after being yelled and cursed at.

Danny: But you had helped me on my english paper! I wanted to return the favor! This happened a few more times before it became normal to meet at the library and work together!

The batfamily is reeling at this strangely normal and meet cute type story and the fact that Jason was going to college and nobody knew somehow (Alfred knew).

After meeting Danny, they stalk him to see if he was acting normal or trying to mess with Jason or Jason manipulated someone normal to mess with them. The first while Danny seems perfectly normal and innocent but after a while they start getting a feeling of something off about Danny like he was both him and not. They also notice that Jason tends to stay calmer when he is around Danny. As they realize he is weird and they slowly figure it out, they actually get less anxious about Danny. As someone not quite normal or human in Danny's case was far more comforting for them then anyone of them managing to befriend an actual normal civilian with no apparent baggage or extreme homelife. A

[leighsartworks216]

could you write for #17 on the prompt list? any character would be great <3

Mud Masks

Sylus x gn!Reader

Prompt from this list

17 - holding the other's chin up

Warnings: fluff, silly, established relationship, kissing, implied height difference, slightly suggestive, banter

Word Count: 804

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

"Just a little more."

"You already said that."

"Yeah, well, I mean it this time."

Sylus chuckles softly as you tsk, focused on not messing up all your hard work. For what it's worth, he's been nothing but compliant so far, even after your weird request.

He opens his eyes as you gather more of the mud mask onto the little silicone applicator. You're ethereal - in your pajamas, disheveled from the work day, frowning with concentration. He doesn't think he could fall more in love, but you always manage to prove him wrong.

You look back up at him and roll your eyes. "Close 'em, mister."

"Don't I deserve a reward for staying so still, kitten?" he teases. His eyes shamelessly glance at your lips as he steps closer between your legs, hands sliding from the marble countertop to hold your waist.

"You'll get a reward as soon as I'm done." You don't bother waiting for him to close his eyes. He ends up closing them anyway when you carefully put the mud between his eyebrows and down his nose. "And you have to do me, too, remember?"

"Bad choice of words."

"Down boy."

He sighs, low and playful. "I do so love when you're cruel."

You don't dignify him with a response. Instead, you finish smoothing the last bit of mud over his face. He looks silly - cutesy animal-ear headband holding his bangs back, sharp features slathered in a dark clay mask, white eyebrows breaking through. Still, despite all the teasing, you're all too happy to have a partner willing to go through all this trouble for you. He clearly enjoys it just as much, if only to have all your attention on him.

"There! Now it's my turn." You hold out the applicator to him and nod to the jar of mud on the counter.

He lets you go. The warmth of his hands lingers on your clothes. It looks strange to see such a big, imposing man with that little applicator in one hand and the jar held in the other, both dwarfed by their size. "I thought I was promised a reward," he says as he gathers clay on the silicone and sets the jar aside. He glares without any malice down at you. "After I was being so good."

You smile, amused by his antics after the day you had. Self-care like this was a rare occurrence, and absolutely necessary tonight. "Fine. Don't let it be said I'm someone who goes back on their deals."

"I'm glad you understand, sweetie."

He takes his time, after all that. He brushes hair from your face, though it's securely held back just like his is. His knuckles caress your cheek softly, trailing down to your jaw. Calloused fingertips trace the angle of it, where his index finger curls just under your chin, and his thumb graces your lower lip.

Chills run down your spine in anticipation. The hairs on your arms stand on end, waiting eagerly. He knows it, too. He knows you, the damn bastard. Knows just how much this effects you.

With his hold on your chin, he gently tilts it up, lifting your head to be the perfect angle, as he finally leans down. Your eyes flutter shut. Your heart races so loud in your ears.

Something cold touches your cheek, startling you out of the moment with wide eyes. The applicator hangs just in your periphery.

"Hey!"

He catches your mouth suddenly, silencing whatever insults you were prepared to throw his way. All of them are forgotten as his tongue licks into your mouth. Thoughts dissipating in the wind as he lifts your chin just slightly higher to give him even more access. And if that wasn't enough, the appreciative groan he breathes into your mouth makes you forget about the mud masks entirely.

He pulls away slowly. You're chasing after his lips for more without thinking about it; you can feel his grin as he grants you one more. His thumb brushes soft circles into your chin, coaxing you back to him. When your eyes flutter open, he guides your head to the side and begins spreading the dollop he left on your cheek around.

"Don't worry, kitten," he hums. "When I'm done, you'll get a reward, too."

You look at him from the corner of your eye, praying he can't feel how warm your cheeks have become. You're sure he already knows. "A reward like that?"

Red eyes flicker to yours with an amused quirk of his eyebrow. "You can be greedy. Ask and it's all yours."

"Including you?"

The drying clay cracks at the corners of his mouth as he smiles. He guides your face back toward him, leaning down until his every breath ghosts over your lips. "I'm always at your disposal, my beloved."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[captain-huggy-bear]

A Little Misunderstanding

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' angsty at points, but ends sweet, lots of mutual pining and two idiots not realising the other is also in love with the other, meddling mothers (for the best this time)

Summary: Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.

Notes: Thank you to the anon who requested fake dating to lovers with Quinn, I had this idea which is a little different from the usual fake dating so I hope its okay and you still like it 😊

Tried to keep it ambiguous as to where the reader originated from so that us UK girlies can relate as well as anyone else not from Vancouver and/or Canada.

Reminder I typically use UK spellings because I'm English so...don't come at me if you wish I spelt it the US away. If I have to read US spellings all the time, you can handle the odd UK spelling

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"When does your flight get in?" You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, picking up a stray sock that had fallen out of your laundry basket as you attempt to tidy your apartment.

"7am your time, sweetheart, remember?" Your mother's voice rings clear down the line, familiar and warm. It's been a while since you saw either of your parents. You having moved all the way to Vancouver, more miles than you could count from your birthplace and hometown around two years ago. You were excited to have them finally able to come out and stay with you for a week, they'd never been to see you, and it had been a while since you'd been able to see your parents, not having time to fly to see them. While you were glad for the move to Vancouver, living in a completely different place away from your family wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. You so often felt like you were having to fend for yourself without much of a support network. Luckily you'd made some good friends in the time you'd been in Van.

"Quinn offered to come with me to pick you and dad up, we'll be there waiting for you so don't worry about getting an Uber." You dropped Quinn's name casually because that's what it was, he was just another part of your existence. Your friend, who admittedly you had a small crush on, but just your friend nonetheless. Just because you thought he was beautiful and wanted to kiss him didn't mean you were allowed to kiss him or that he'd even want to kiss you. He was a friend who happened to be a man and you both happened to be single. This had not changed for two years and wasn't likely to any time soon.

"Oh, Quinn'll be there?" Your mother's voice was suddenly more upbeat, excited. She'd been eager to meet Quinn for months now, you're not sure why she finally took an interest in one of your friends but you can't help but be glad. Quinn had become a massive part of your life, a support network you very much needed when you'd first come to a strange new place all by yourself. He was part of the fabric of your life now, and you knew he'd charm your parents without even thinking about it. It shouldn't matter to you that your parents like your friend, its not like Quinn was your boyfriend, but it did matter to you. You wanted them to like him as much as you did because you wanted him around for the foreseeable future.

"Yeah, I mentioned you were coming to visit the other day and his car is bigger than mine, so he offered to come along, he has to get up early most days anyway so he's not too bothered by it." It helped that Quinn had a couple of days off, but still you were thankful. He could have spent his rare enough free time doing something much more enjoyable than helping you pick your parents up from the airport.

"Your father and I look forward to meeting him, we've heard so much about him, darling!"

There's something about your mother's tone that makes you stop for a second suddenly feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Maybe it's just how eager she is or maybe it's something else, but there's a little red flag waving in the back of your mind with some small print on that you just can't quite read yet.

"Right...um, look I'll see you tomorrow morning then? I gotta get everything ready for you guys."

"Of course, of course! We love you!"

"Love you too, mum."

"You're sure you don't mind?" You look over at Quinn from the passenger seat, the two of you look exhausted, big bags under your eyes and even bigger hoodies to hide in because a 5am wake up to get to the airport in time was just a little much for both of you. This early in the morning it's still dark and the streetlights do something to Quinn's face that makes him even more handsome than usual, even as he looks like he might fall back asleep at any minute. It doesn't help that his scruff has grown out or that his hair is in those perfect waves he always seems to get even when he's just taken his bucket off.

"I wouldn't have offered if I did, besides the amount of time we spend together isn't it about time I met your parents? You've met mine." He smiles over at you, cheeky, the sort of Quinn most people didn't see. It's silly that it makes your cheeks feel warm, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be flustered by him.

"Your parents are at as many of your games as possible, of course I've met them."

"So are you. Sue me for wanting to meet the parents of one of my best friends."

"I'm your best friend?" You lean your head back on the headrest, tilting slightly to grin at him all silly. Quinn can see it from the corner of his eye and as much as it's ridiculous, that little grin makes you even more beautiful than normal.

"One of." He rolls his eyes at you, partly because of your silliness and partly rolling his eyes at himself. You're his friend. He shouldn't feel this way about you, men can have female friends...he just can't seem to have you as a female friend without wanting to kiss you at any given opportunity. It's becoming difficult, even more so in the early morning when the low light level puts your face in stark contrast and your hoodie, one of his, makes you look so cozy and sweet.

"That's just your way of avoiding admitting how much you love me and need me in your life."

Quinn's cheeks flush bright red, so bright that even the low light can't hide it nor hide the way he bites back a smile at you, eyes fixed on the road and the last few miles to the airport.

"...Shut up."

The silence that fills the car is comfortable, the sort that comes about from spending so much time together. You have friends that aren't Quinn, of course you do, but Quinn had been your first friend in Vancouver. He'd shown you around and made time for you in his incredibly busy schedule. You were often the first person he saw when he came off a roadie and the last person to see him before he left for one. There were nights when you stayed round Quinn's after a game or vice versa. You spent so much time together that you simply coexisted, being around Quinn was as easy as breathing. You rarely argued or disagreed and when you did it was always resolved properly. You simply worked. There wasn't ever much to think about with Quinn. You could just...shut off.

"Thank you, though...seriously." You take a moment, thinking how to word your next few thoughts, your warning as the signs for the airport come into full view, "Just, my mum seems really eager to meet you so...just brace yourself."

"Eager?"

"You know when your parents are excited to meet a new partner?" You think back to the few times you'd introduced a boyfriend to your mum, the excitement that she exuded...it was starting to concern you that she was that excited to just meet your friend. Because that's all Quinn was. Your friend. Not your boyfriend. Your friend, you remind yourself, even as he looks so good smiling over at you with his beard. He'd let it grow out just enough that he looked rugged and mature.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's that sort of excited which is really weird...she normally doesn't' care that much about my friends. Just, sorry, if she's really weird about it?" It's awkward enough talking about, you and Quinn have always stayed firmly platonic, you didn't talk about the fact that people assumed you were dating or even the concept of it. Talking about it felt...it felt like you were opening the curtains up, letting him see in a little too far.

"You didn't tell her we were married or something, did you?"

"Quinn! Shut up!" He laughs so loud that you can't actually be that mad at him, not when he's grinning at you like that, not when he's been so stressed as of late about the performance of his team. Even if it's at your expense.

"What? Just checking! For all I know you could have told her we got married in Vegas during one of my games or something?"

"If I'm telling my mum I'm married to you, it'll be because I'm actually married to you, you idiot." You roll your eyes at him, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to look out the window.

"Oh, so you do want to marry me?" He's joking, but he's not...he's thought about it. There's not a day that Quinn hasn't thought about what it would be like to be yours and you be his, not since he met you...and then promptly managed to land himself so far into the friendzone that he was scared to crawl his way out lest he leave you behind in the process.

"...I hate you."

"No you don't." His voice is singsong in intonation and sweet and he's right because you love him and it hurts...god, it hurts how much you love someone you can't have. Someone you see every day, someone who is so deeply ingrained in your life that removing him would be like carving a hole into your own chest.

You just sit and glare at him, even as a heavy sort of sadness hits, as he pulls up into one of the parking bays for collecting passengers.

It's okay that he's just your friend, you remind yourself as you get out of the car. It's okay because he's the best friend you could ask for, he's here at 6.45 am in the morning to collect your parents from the airport, not because he was asked or because he had to, but because he wanted to. You can live with loving him in silence, so long as you always have him around.

"I think they're over this way, probably, near gate 1?" You're just getting your bearings, trying to figure out roughly where your parents will come out at after they find their things from baggage claim when you hear it.

"My baby!" The squeal of a middle aged woman who hasn't seen her daughter in far too long pierces the air. You barely have time to brace yourself for impact before your mother is wrapping you up in a gigantic hug and pressing as many kisses to your face as possible, you know without a doubt her signature mauve lipstick is smudged all across your skin.

Your father stands behind her, rolling his eyes in amusement but the smile he gives you is no less warm, "Hey there, princess."

"Hi, mum, hi, dad," You pull yourself free from your mother just long enough to get a long awaited hug from your father, big and warm and so familiar that you almost feel like crying. How long has it been since you last hugged your dad? Half a year? Nine months? Longer? You sometimes don't realise how much you miss something until you get it back.

When you turn back around your mother is already pulling Quinn into a hug that he accepts, if a tad awkwardly, his hands patting her on the back like he's not quite sure how hugs work.

She has his face in her hands before you can intervene, overly familiar and friendly as she grins up at him like he's made her day just by existing. "You must be Quinn, Y/N's boyfriend..."

"Oh, he's n-" You're pretty sure your eyes bug out of your head, startled by the suggestion because at no point in the last few years of living in Vancouver had you ever called Quinn your boyfriend. Ever.

You're cut off by Quinn who's grinning at you wickedly over the top of your mother's head like he's just been giving the greatest Christmas present he could ever ask for and in that moment you know...you know that he is going to make your life very difficult with this tiny piece of information.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet, the boyfriend, that's me." God, he wishes it was true. There's nothing more he wants in that moment than to be able to say to your mom that you are 100% his girlfriend, but he can't...he can, however, enjoy the roleplaying while it lasts. He can't really stop himself, not when you look so aghast at your mother calling him your boyfriend, not when he can use this to tease you for at least the next 30 years. He grew up with 2 brothers, sue him for taking advantage of the situation.

"Quinn!"

"What? Am I not allowed to call myself your boyfriend anymore?" He sidles up to you, slipping out from your mother's grip to pull you into his side. His arm rests naturally over your shoulder, yours finding his waist, and it is natural...because you've done this a million times before. The kiss he presses to your hair is new though, different and as much as your mum clearly believes the ruse, you can see your father just looks amused. Something tells you he knows this is all an act, but he finds it enjoyable to watch. Typical. No support from him when you need it most. Dads.

"Oh, she's just grouchy in the mornings, has been ever since she was a baby!" Your mother looks at the two of you with such pride that you're certain her heart actually might break when she finds out Quinn isn't actually your boyfriend. You've never seen her look so happy with your choice in a man before and you're certain she won't be able to cope when you have to inevitably tell her that it was either a) a lie or b) that Quinn just wasn't the guy for you (another lie just to make your life more complicated).

"Mum!"

"Oh don't worry, I know just how grouchy my baby can be in the mornings." This time he presses a kiss to your cheek and when he does, you hiss lowly in his ear, 'I'm going to kill you.' and Quinn can't help but laugh at you, biting his lip at how much fun he's having riling you up.

"Here let me take your bags, Mrs Y/L/N," Quinn's bending down before your mother can even begin to protest, her carry on backpack being slung over his shoulder and pulling up the handle of her suitcase to wheel it behind him.

"Oh, you don't have to, Quinn!"

"I insist." He knows he's making it harder on you, can see the look you give him because he's just going to make your mother fall in love with him. But, even as he enjoys riling you up, he was also raised right and he's not letting your mother carry her own bags.

Your mother hangs back with you while your father and Quinn start walking ahead with the suitcases. She slips her arm through yours walking with you to keep up, as she does so she does a very bad attempt at whispering. The sort of whispering that means you know Quinn can hear every word and is probably enjoying it immensely.

"He's such a gentleman..."

"Yeah, a real gentleman." You mutter sarcastically, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall in a silent laugh that he's no doubt doing his best to swallow down.

"Don't be grumpy, he's just being sweet on you. You should be glad for such a loving boyfriend..." Your mother scolds you before raising her voice back to normal, Quinn and your father slowing down slightly to help keep the four of you together, "So, Quinn, my daughter tells me you're a hockey player?"

"Yeah, you talk about me, baby?" Quinn's grin is wide, and you can't help the warmth that fills your entire face because you can't actually deny it. You talk about Quinn all the time, he's your best friend and whenever your mother phones, you inevitably talk about him. Whether it was a game of his you went to or a coffee place you'd visited together or gala he'd invited you to. Maybe, you talked about him too much? Maybe, it was obvious in the way you talked about him that you loved him? Maybe that's why your mother had made such a large assumption about your relationship status. Maybe this was your fault, why wouldn't she assume you were dating?

"She talks about you all the time. Quinn this, Quinn that...did you know that Quinn did this today and broke this record?"

"Mum..." You groan out, looking to your dad for help but all he does is shrug his shoulders at you, amusement bright in his eyes. Even if he could do something you know he wouldn't because he's clearly enjoying your torture.

Quinn can't help it, the tables seem to reverse. You're embarrassed still, but now he is too, bright red in the face, ears flushed the colour of a fire engine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. All because you talk about him to your parents...you talk about him when he's not around...he feels like a twelve year old, giddy because his crush smiled at him for the first time.

"I play for the NHL."

"Vancouver Canucks, wasn't it?" Your mother asks as the four of you step out into the cold Canadian air, her attention making Quinn squirm and you smile, enjoying the discomfort being swapped around for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm the captain of the team." He smiles at your mother awkwardly as he opens the boot of the car and starts to pile in the suitcases, organising them in just the right way that they fit without hassle.

Your father chimes in as he lifts his own suitcase into the back, Quinn helping him shove it back further, "That's impressive, I used to play field hockey myself, never got out of the amateur league but got a few bruises in my time. You had an injury recently right?"

You still remember phoning your mum to talk about it, at first worried and then over time growing more and more frustrated with how sullen Quinn was being. He'd grown restless from not being able to play hockey and you'd been his distraction, a distraction that had grown fed up with his moping no matter how much you loved him.

"I've had a few this year, most recently my hand." He raises his braced hand, the brace a point of annoyance to him at this point in time. He was itching to be done with it, but put up with it because it meant he could still play hockey at the moment.

"Oh, you shouldn't have been carrying my bag then, Quinn!" Your mother fusses over him, flapping about as if she might have a miracle cure for his hand injury.

"Honestly, it's fine! It looks worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't get away with it otherwise, this one would kill me." He nods his head at you as he closes the boot, opening one of the backdoors for your mother to slide inside.

"Damn right I'd kill you, I cannot take more days of you moping that you can't play hockey and that you're bored despite my amazing company."

"You know I enjoyed spending time with you, sweetheart...but..."

"But, you can't live without hockey, yeah, I know..."

He follows you round to the passenger side door, opening it for you like a gentleman and letting you slide inside. You find yourself enjoying the attention even as you catch your mother's eye in the rear view mirror, a little smirk reaching her lips as she watches Quinn buckle you in. Something he does from time to time when he's feeling particularly sweet...because he was a good friend.

"So, Quinn, how did you meet our daughter? I'm not sure she ever mentioned it?"

The entire ride home is filled with your mother peppering Quinn with questions, encouraging him to talk more and more about your 'relationship'. Everything from when you first met to the first date you went on (which Quinn told her was the first time he took you ice skating, you were under the impression that that was a friendly family skate event and most certainly not a date).

The conversation lulls while you set your parents up in your spare bedroom, helping them settle themselves and showing them around your apartment. They hadn't ever seen it in person and they spent half the time cooing over your choices, the photos of family and friends on the wall, the ones of you and Quinn, as well as your mother checking your fridge and telling you to buy more vegetables.

It's as you're sitting down to a breakfast of pre-bought croissants and pain au chocolat that your mother restarts her question. This time even more invasive than the first.

"So Quinn, when did you know?"

"Mm? Know what?" Your best friend looks at your mother with furrowed brows, taking a sip of his orange juice and almost choking on it when she proceeds to clarify her question.

"When you loved my daughter."

There's a long beat of silence where your eyes stay fixated on your plate, watching your own hands intently as you spread Nutella inside your croissant, far too focused on that to be anything casual or calm. You're certain you're going to be sick because he doesn't love you but you love him and your poor mother is so oblivious and this...this is going too far, it feels like it's gone too far.

"Expected answer or honest answer?"

"Honest answer."

"The second week I knew her." Your head snaps up with a start only to find Quinn looking directly at you, green eyes crinkling softly at the corners. "She heard that I had been hurt on the ice the night before and she stormed round my apartment with a bunch of food, medicine and a blanket. Spent the whole day looking after me and making me watch 90s movies I hadn't watched growing up. No one outside my family had ever done that for me before...it made me realise that if I wasn't already in love, I would be pretty quick." You almost believe him, the way he looks at you, the way he speaks so softly. Almost.

You look down at your plate, tears welling in your eyes because you know he doesn't mean it. He's spinning a yarn for your mother and it hurts that he would go that far when you both know this is all some ruse he's decided to pull. You swallow hard and take a bite of your croissant, refusing to look at him for the rest of breakfast.

You won't meet his eyes until he goes to leave after breakfast, your parents hanging back so you can say goodbye to your 'boyfriend'.

"Mind if I come over after dinner? We could watch a movie with your parents?"

"Quinn..." You go to challenge him on his behaviour today, but the words won't come out.

"What?"

"Nothing...uh, sure, after dinner?"

"After dinner, baby."

You want to tell him off as he says it, as he presses a kiss to your cheek so your parents can see because you aren't his baby and he's hurting you. He's hurting you without realising it because you so desperately want to be his baby. But, you don't. You just watch him walk away down the corridor of your apartment building and out of sight before getting ready to show your parents around Vancouver for the day.

You try to put the whole thing out of your mind throughout the day, showing your parents the sights of Vancouver, including the arena...but it's hard when they keep bringing Quinn back up and asking about your feelings. They probe you for half the day and it's emotionally exhausting balancing the truth with the half-truth, even more so knowing that they're going to be just as disappointed as you are when they realise your relationship with Quinn is just a sham, a charade, a fake.

Eventually they seem to grow bored of talking about the topic, however, and dinner goes relatively smoothly, you taking them to a nice restaurant Quinn had shown you back in your first couple of months in Vancouver. Even that feels bittersweet though, filled with memories of the two of you dining together. You can't help but feel like the whole issue needs addressing as you get them back home and pop a film on ready for Quinn's arrival.

When he arrives he continues the act as if it isn't one, greeting you at the door with a kiss to the cheek and pulling you down onto the loveseat opposite your parents, curling one arm around your shoulders and urging you to lay against him, your cheek pressed into his chest. In some ways it's familiar, not an act, because you cuddle for movies all time, completely platonically of course, but both of you are touchy feely and it's always been part of your dynamic. In others though? The way he talks to you, the pet names, kisses to your hair, that is all new, all a way to show your parents he's the 'doting boyfriend', even though he's not your boyfriend at all.

Your parents lap it up, every now and then you catch them smiling at each other and then over to the two of you and you can't help but feel heavy with it. With this feeling of unrequited affection. You love Quinn, you've known that for a while now, but it was easy to be around him because you didn't need to address it. You could love him in silence and from afar...you had never considered how hard it would become when what you wanted most was being dangled in front of you like a carrot on a string.

Quinn has a similar dilemma going on in his own head. He's always known he loved you more than a friend, even when you barely knew each other...had he been braver he would have asked for your number for a date that first day, not so that he could show you around a new city as a 'friend'. But, he'd been a coward and since then he'd continued to be. He enjoyed every ounce of affection he got from you, every hug, every cuddle, ever time you held his arm at an event, all while feeling like that had to be enough...now he's had more? He's not sure it'll ever be enough, he's greedy for you. Greedy for your affection, your attention, greedy in the way he wants to keep kissing you, keeping calling you sweet names and greedy for the way you grow bashful. Greedy for more than just being your friend...he's given himself a taste of what life could be like and now he can't forget it.

It's halfway through the movie, your legs slung over Quinn's lap and his fingers carding through the ends of your hair when your parents stand with a groan from the other couch.

"Princess?" You lift your head to look at your father, who's stretching out his back after sitting for so long.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Your mother and I are getting a little tired...we're going to go to bed, if that's alright with you two?"

"Of course, don't let us keep you up." Quinn confirms your own thoughts as well, telling your parents it's not problem at all. It's all so...so domestic.

Your dad presses a kiss to the top of your head, as does your mother, before yourself and Quinn wish them goodnight. You wait until you see the door to the spare room start to close, not waiting for it to do so fully, before turning to Quinn. You pull out of his arms, the missing warmth of you an immediate loss to him, but it has him sitting up straight and taking you seriously.

Your face is sullen, sad, eyebrows pinched, mouth turned down into a frown and he's alarmed to see that your eyes are glassy like you might cry.

"Why on earth would you let my parents think we're dating? Why would you tell my mother you're in love with me?" You're certain you're going to cry, angry, frustrated and sad all in one. Lovesick because it hurts to hear him tell your mother he was in love with you when you know he's not.

"Why not?" He frowns at you, hands reaching out but you keep just out of reach as if touching him is the last thing you want. You've never shied away from Quinn's touch and he recoils, breathing a little heavier out of anxious worry that he's upset you, that he's fucked this up. Maybe you've been uncomfortable with his touch all day? Has he been making you uncomfortable all day? Is he one of those guys?

"Because we're not dating and you're not in love with me, Quinn. My mother is certain we're going to get married and I'll stop being an old spinster! You're getting her hopes up." The unspoken words lay heavy on your tongue, 'you're getting my hopes up', you want to say.

"Who said I didn't love you? Who said I didn't want to marry you?" The look he gives you isn't the cheeky one he's had all day, it's not joking or silly, it's dead serious. He scoots closer to you, but doesn't reach out for you this time. But, Quinn can't help but want to be close to you, to be drawn into your orbit, into your gravity.

"Quinn..."

"What?"

"You're being mean..." Your voice is filled with tears, wet, pathetic sounding and you choke back a sob as a tear falls down your cheek because he's being so mean...he can't dangle that in front of you, everything you've ever wanted, not when he doesn't actually mean it.

He realises in that moment that you don't believe him. You believe he's spent the entire morning and evening telling lies, saying that he loves you when he doesn't, that you're that important to him when you aren't. You believe he's being mean because you don't believe him, that the tears are because you think he's holding this thing, this idea out in front of you, only to snatch it away.

"Look, I said a lot today...but none of it was a lie." He can't help himself this time, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away that pesky tear that shouldn't have been there in the first place. It's the way you lean into his touch that brings him a sense of confidence, of relief, you wouldn't do that if you didn't want him touching you.

"I know our first date wasn't a date, just a stupid family skate I was too scared to ask you out to as more than just a friend. I wish it had been a date and I wish I had been brave enough from the start to tell you I didn't just want to be your friend."

"Quinn..."

"And I was telling the truth...when your mother asked me when I fell in love with you." He tugs you closer, until your legs are back over his lap and your practically sitting on top of him, arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling you closer. The way he stares up at you is nothing short of reverent.

"Q..."

"The second week we knew each other you came to look after me when no one else did...and I knew...I knew that I was going to love you and that I was stupid for not asking you out in the first place...but I was...I was too scared to say anything. I didn't want to lose my new friend...I thought..." He hesitates, tongue coming out to nervously brush against his bottom lip, capturing your attention like a magpie with a shiny button.

"You thought?" You're whispering, quiet as if to speak any louder might scare him, might disrupt this little bubble you've found yourself in.

"I thought having a tiny bit of you...any bit, was better than having none of you at all." Quinn confesses, shifting you on his lap as your legs fall either side of his hips until you're so close your noses brush.

"Is it?"

"It was...for a bit..." It's self-deprecating, sardonic, like he finds himself ridiculous, foolish.

"And now?"

"And now I've had a taste of what it's like to love you, to be able to kiss you and hold you...call you mine...and now I'm greedy and it's not enough...Baby, it'll never be enough."

"You...you love me?" It's like even after all of this, everything he's said, every tender touch, you still don't quite believe him. It's hard to believe that everything you've ever wanted is sat in the palm of your hand just waiting for you to capture it, to take it. That your feelings, the ones you believed were unrequited for two years, were actually returned all along.

"I love you...and...um, if...if you'll have me, maybe I could be your real boyfriend this time?" His face is bright red, so warm to the touch when you're fingers reach out to trace his cheeks that you're surprised he doesn't combust.

"I'd like that...I...I love you too,"

"So...I'm your boyfriend?" He says it like he doesn't quite believe it, the beauty mark on his cheek moving as he grins up at you giddy like a little kid getting his first bag of sweets.

"You're my boyfriend." You press a kiss to that beauty mark without overthinking it...because you can now, because now it's not a lie when you tell your parents he's your boyfriend, because now you're allowed to kiss him and hold him and tell him how much you love him.

"Fuck...that sounds good."

He can't help but just stare up at you from where you're straddling his lap. The healthy glow to your skin, the soft smile directed down at him, the way you seem to curl into him like you're not close enough even now. God, you're beautiful and you're his...you're finally his and he's yours and...and he can't comprehend that the thing he wanted to happen for so long has finally happened. What had he been scared of all this time? He could have been with you for two years, instead he'd squandered it out of fear...

"Quinn?" Your voice is soft, melodic, so so sweet that almost closes his eyes at the sound.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Kiss me?" You whisper as if it's shameful to ask, as if you've asked for something more sordid than a simple kiss...your first kiss together at that.

"Anything for my girl."

He's gentle in the way he cups your neck and jaw with one large hand, thumb pressing just below your jaw bone as he pulls you in. There's nothing rushed about the way Quinn presses your lips together, the smooth glide of his bottom lip against your top. Even the way his tongue brushes against your lip until you open up for him is slow, steady, adoring. You can't help the way you sigh into him, fingers gliding through dark chocolate strands, eyes closing shut with the sense of home, sense of relief that you find in him.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other, slow kisses, wandering hands, nothing too extreme, but a new found intimacy that you're finally allowed to indulge in before you curl back up together to watch the remainder of the movie. Watch being a loose term for what you're really doing.

"Did you know?" Your father turns his eyes away from the scene outside the spare bedroom, the way you're curled up in Quinn's arms like you were always supposed to be there. Neither of you realising that the spare bedroom door had never fully closed, both your parents eavesdropping like Samwise Gamgee.

"That they weren't actually together, dear?" Your mother looks sly and devious as she looks over at her husband. The face of the woman he loves, but also fears in equal measure.

"Yes."

"Of course I knew...but I figured they could both use a shove in the right direction, I mean, look at them?" Your parents both turn to watch the two of you, the way you curl up together on the couch is the epitome of young love. There's no real watching of a movie happening, instead Quinn's fingers are rubbing circles into your shoulder, while you look up at him lovingly from where you're curled against his chest. Every now and then he dips his head down to press a kiss against your forehead, and each time you giggle, face pressing briefly into his neck. The giddy feeling of a new, fresh love, making film watching the least of your interests.

"They just needed a little push." Both your parents smile at each other even as your father playfully scolds his wife, "You're a meddlesome woman."

"And you love me for it."

"Yes, yes I do."

Perhaps it took a bit of meddling, a fake misunderstanding, but that would be their little secret...at least for now. Your mother was rather looking forward to seeing you squirm in the future as you reveal the truth, that you hadn't actually been dating Quinn as long as you said. Yes, she certainly was happy to help, but she also was still your mother and lying to your mother was certainly not the done thing. A little squirming was good for you sometimes, but first, she'd let you enjoy the fresh bloom of love...and she'd go easy on you.

[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

chap 1, chap 2, chap 3, chap 4, chap 5, chap 6, chap 7, chap 8, chap 9

PART 8 MEETING DAD

As Mattia stepped off the plane, the warmth of Spain hit him like a wave. He felt both excited and nervous, his heart pounding in his chest. Clutching his suitcase, he scanned the crowd, and then, he saw him.

“Dad...” he whispered, trying to hold back the emotions welling up inside him.

Carlos Sainz Jr. appeared, effortlessly cool in a Cowboy outfit, looking every bit the part. As soon as he spotted Mattia, his face broke into a huge smile. He took off his sunglasses, eyes sparkling. “Hey, Matheo! Welcome home!”

Without a second thought, Mattia sprinted toward him, and as soon as he was close enough, Carlos crouched down and spread his arms wide. “Come here and give me a hug!”

Mattia’s eyes filled with tears as he flung himself into his father’s strong arms. “Finally… It’s you!” he said through his tears, smiling so widely his cheeks hurt.

Carlos picked him up while he was spinning around, with his son in his arms, after that he looked him in the eyes, laughing. “How was camp? Hope it was awful, ‘cause you’re not going back! I missed you too much.”

Mattia wiped his tears with the back of his hand, smiling up at his dad. “I missed you more.”

Carlos ruffled his hair, but looked at him strangely, when he remained somewhat silent. He always remembered that his son was quite expressive when telling stories. “Is something wrong, Chilli?” looking at him curiously. “Hold on... Is it just me, or are you getting taller?”

Mattia blinked in surprise. “What? No, it’s nothing, Dad! I just missed you,” he said quickly, trying to hide his nervousness.

Carlos just give him a warm smile. “Me too. Chilli.”

Mattia couldn’t help but smile. “Dad, how are Chessy and the others?” Mattia asked between the half hug and his way to the car, “Oh, they’re at home, anxiously waiting for you. A Chessy living in hysteria has ended her days. She miss you so much.”

Carlos looked at his son, who was looking at him strangely. “What's wrong? Did I shave too much? I didn't mean to cut off all my beard.”

“It's nothing dad, you really look good, even though you look like a cool cowboy" Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Well, seeing you for the first time is... well, I mean seeing you for the first time after the a month that passed.”

Mattia was nervous and didn't want to ruin the plan. Carlos kept looking at him and the boy felt more nervous. “Suddenly I feel like you're taller, dad.”

Carlos chuckled, patting him on the back. “Well, let's get home, little Chilli. Chessy and Sammy are waiting for you.”

****

Once in the car, it was a long drive for Mattia. But he loves the beautiful view outside, it was really great for him.

Carlos glanced over at his son, who sat beside him in the car, “So, how’s everything going, Chilli?” Carlos asked, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “I remember someone promising me letters... but nothing ever showed up.”

“I am glad that I give you that chilli keychains, so you will never forget me” He continued.

God, Mattia didn’t know if his twins had promised to send Dad some letters, because they’re busy planning everything to go perfectly. Mattia scratched the back of his head, a nervous grin on his face. “Well, we were really busy Dad...,” he stammered, his voice trailing off as he tried to think of an excuse.

“Were we?” Carlos repeated curiously.

“I mean, me and my friends with camp and all, Dad. Oh, and I met this nice boy there. We got along so well—just... we kinda like brother’s”

Carlos chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Since when are you so polite, Matheo?” He finished with a smile as he remembered his twin brother.

Mattia shot his dad a playful look. "What? I’m polite! You know, ... it's all part of growing up."

Carlos was about to say something more when he noticed Mattia nervously chewing on his nails. He reached over, lightly grabbing his hand. “You still biting your nails, huh?”

Mattia blinked, taken by surprise. “How did you notice that, Dad?”

Carlos grinned. “How could I not? You’ve been doing it for 9 years.”

“Ugh, yeah! But I’ll stop! It’s a horrible habit, I swear,” Mattia groaned, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Carlos laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Nice boy, a horrible habit. Seriously, what camp did I send you to? A finishing school?”

Mattia burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Sorry, Dad, it’s just... I didn't realize I was doing it.”

Carlos smirked. “So, why do you keep saying 'Dad' at the end of every sentence, huh?”

Mattia’s face softened as he glanced out the window. “Ugh I... I don’t realize that, Dad" he admitted, his voice quieter.

Carlos looked at him out of the corner of his eye, trying not to laugh,

“But Dad, do you want to know why I say ‘Dad’ all the time?”

Carlos made a sly smile at that “Because you missed your old man so much, right?”

Mattia looking at his dad, with his smile and his big brown eyes like his dad eyes. “Exactly. It's because in my whole life, I mean, you know, for the past month, I was never able to say the word Dad. Never. Not once. And if you ask me, I mean, a dad is an irreplaceable person in a boy’s life. Think about it. There’s a whole day devoted to celebrating fathers. Just imagine someone's life without a father. Never buying a Father’s Day card, never sitting on their father’s lap, never being able to say, hi, Dad, or what's up, Dad, or catch you later, Dad. I mean, a baby’s first words are always, Dada, Dad, aren't they?

Carlos’s expression shifted as he processed Mattia's words. “Let me see if I get this. You miss being able to call me Dad?”

"Yeah," Mattia said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I really do, Dad." Carlos’s heart swelled with warmth as he tried not to show his emotion.

Okay now he like wanted to cry, but when Mattia noticed his dad gaze, “God, God, don't make things up!" he said when he saw the large estate in he said when he saw the large estate in the distance.

"Now you're the same Mattia as before," Carlos said, amused.

*****

The sun shine brightly over the sprawling estate, casting a warm glow on the vibrant gardens that surrounded it. Mattia, stepped out of the car, her heart racing with excitement. The estate was even more beautiful than the photos. Right at the entrance appeared a woman, who was coming towards him in a very cheerful manner. She was his babysitter, Chessy.

"Matheo, you're finally back!" The brown-haired woman greeted Mattia with great emotion and went to hug him and lift him up. Chessy put him back on the floor and looked at him.

"You're taller, Matheo! Tell your old man that you're not a kid anymore and you're ready for real action."

Mattia laughed a little at this "Okay, Cheesy." She replied with smile, then asked him. "Are you hungry? I made some Tortilla! Your favorites!"

Mattia smiled, he wasn't that hungry "Great!"

"Am I missing something?" Carlos asked, holding Mattia's suitcases. "Were you talking about Tortilla?"

"Yes, they're in the dining room," Cheesy told him.

"Good, because I'm hungry.” Carlos smiled before going inside the house.

Chessy tilted his head, seeing Mattia “You look different. Something’s... weird.”

“You sure you’re okay? You’ve got this... weird.”

“I’m fine!” Mattia said, a little too quickly, forcing a grin. “Just tired from the flight.”

Chessy squinted suspiciously but let it go, draping an arm around Mattia’s shoulders as they followed Carlos inside. Just then, a loud bark interrupted them. A Golden Retriever dog came skidding into the room, tail wagging wildly.

“Sammy!” Mattia grinned, crouching down. But instead of greeting him, the dog barked, tilting its head in confusion.

Chessy frowned, crossing her arms. “What’s the matter, Sammy? Don’t you recognize your brother?”

Mattia scratched his head awkwardly. “Maybe it’s because I smell like the camps?”

Chesssy chuckled, kneeling to pat the dog. “He’ll back soon. Right, Sammy?” Sammy barked again, but this time his tail wagged just a little.

Mattia straightened up, glancing around the room. The mansion was breathtaking, bright walls, wooden beams, and giant windows flooding the space with sunlight. “It’s even prettier than I imagined,” he murmured.

Chessy clapped his hands together. “Alright, little chilli, what’s the plan? Eat first? Unpack? Or eat while you unpack?”

Mattia’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re saying I can eat in my room?”

“Why not?” Chessy grinned.

“Super!” Mattia exclaimed, practically bouncing on his toes.

****

Then, on the other side of the room, which was like a door, his father appeared with a plate in his hand that had many Tortilla on it. "Hey Math! If you’re done come out to the terrace, I want you to meet someone," he said.

Mattia smiled “Okay dad”

“Okay Chilli” Carlos said walking to the other end of the terrace.

Mattia heard someone and came a little closer to get a better view. There was someone, it wasn't just someone, it was a young woman with her back turned, wearing a sexy dress and a hat.

“Will there ever be a day when I won't see you eating Sainz?” the young woman asked his father.

"I don't think so" She seemed to approach his Father and whispered.

"Have you told him yet?" Carlos swallowed his food. "Slow down Mer, not yet. He just arrived."

"Oh, Carlitos..." the young woman said in a baby voice.

Mattia frowned at what he witnessed from his room, his disbelief already at its peak. “Who is that woman?” He asked through gritted teeth, he could hear Chessy sighing tiredly behind him.

Its mean she was used to by seeing his reaction. He looked at the young woman again who still had her back to him, he couldn't ignore the feeling that something bad was coming from her.

[prettyboykatsuki]

in fact, I do feel like if barou ever approached me, i'd definitely be backing off and trying to shut him down till I see his silly phonescreen of his sisters/family and he's like 'oh yeah, those are my sisters. they are such a bother, but i love them to bits' and then i'd be like 'okay but are you looking for a wife?'

you're probably not the first person to judge barou off of appearances.

hes not really the type to approach people in a club or bar anyhow. he probably was talked into it by oliver but he wasn't planning on really asking you out for any reason if you showed even the slightest bit of disinterest. he's not trying to bother you or anything.

and you probably do dismiss him. barou can tell too and he doesn't really fault you for it. if you're not interested in him there's no need to force it. you're having a polite conversation and he's looking for a way to end the convo shortly.

but strangely, the more you actually talk to him even in polite small talk - the more...nice? he is. he's asking you questions and speaks at the right volume. you're still not giving him your full attention, not really - but you think theres probably some nice girl out there for him that isn't you.

but then he pauses mid convo to pick up his phone. it's two little girls that look just like him and an older woman. he's too young to have those be his kids.

"whose that? you got kids or something?"

and for the first time in your conversation he genuinely smiles. its extremely subtle, he almost scoffs when he says it.

"huh? nah. my sisters." his eyes soften. visibly enough to alarm you. "its a big age gap so i practically fuckin' mothered them 'till i left home."

"what'd you leave home for?"

"football. had to kickstart my career." he rubs his face a little. "its less busy now so i see 'em more. they were the ones who told me to try and go out and bring them back a sister-in-law." he says, playful scoff in his voice.

its something about the way he talks about them that makes you want to get more involved. you speak without thinking. "that mean you looking for a wife?"

barou pauses, suddenly amused. his posture changes, still kind but more confident. flirty even, voice smooth with a nice bass. "yeah, i am. interested?"

[gotham-daydreams]

Writhing

Day 4 {Challenge Masterlist}

A day away. The end is near, but they get closer. Too close.

[Yandere Batfam x Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide (only mentioned in dialog), cult, occult like activities, rituals, implied human sacrifice (in dialog), sort of implied gore?, body horror, violence, blood (minor), bodily fluids (minor), flesh, general mild gore, gross description (?).] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

Oops! A little late on this one, my bad! Body horror elements come in at the end of the chapter, when Selina says something to Bruce. It's over when Jason says "Thank god, he finally shut up-"

If there is such things as 'partial'/'soft' dead dove, that's how I would describe the end of this day.

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The day is hotter than it’s ever been for fall in Gotham, and nearly everyone could feel it. Yet, strangely enough, a noticeable amount of people seem perfectly fine with it – even if some are practically sweating in their clothes, they still go about their lives almost scarily unbothered.

Most would think that Duke would be complaining, or at the very least breaking a sweat with how long he’s been in his suit, but strangely enough, he feels comfortable like this. Almost content, but he couldn’t be – not while being so far away from you. A window was the only thing truly separating you from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it and slip in. Almost like something deep inside of him was telling him you wouldn’t like it if he did, and Duke couldn’t understand why. You’ve been so nice to him up until this point, so welcoming – so you wouldn’t mind if he popped in extra early, would you? Sure you wouldn’t, Duke couldn’t imagine if you did, but he’s sure you’d understand anyway. If only he could explain it to you. Explain how he’s been feeling and that he had to be inside. Then you’d understand, forgive him, and everything would be okay.

Yet, something was still keeping him out, and it was honestly getting on his last nerve.

How Duke managed to slip out of the Batcave didn’t matter – not like he remembered, anyway. What mattered was figuring what was keeping him out so he could get in-

The young vigilante watches as you slowly, almost painstakingly begin to rise from your bed to sit up. For a moment, he holds his breath, hoping and nearly pleading with all his heart that you’re awake – only to see that your eyes are still closed, and it’s still hours away from when you’d usually be up. The only difference being is that your body moved in accordance to the sun, and you rose as it did. Almost as if you two were in sync somehow, and Duke couldn’t help but find that endlessly interesting instead of strange.

Even so, he had hoped you would have actually been awake – but he could be polite, so he waited. It wasn’t very comfortable being perched on the fire escape like this, but for something like this? Duke didn’t mind, especially not when he got to spend so much time with you. When it was just the two of you, alone, together.

Duke couldn’t even feel himself sweating in his suit, but even if he could – he didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not with you in his sights.

Time passed by like sand slipping through his hands, with only the smallest bits remaining under Duke’s nails and in the lines of his palm. Since he could feel it pass, albeit faintly, and could acknowledge its passing as well, but the actual length was lost on him – as if only minutes or seconds had flown by in the place of the few hours that escaped his memory.

Not that it mattered, as once Duke saw you begin to stir and wake up, he couldn’t help but feel all giddy as he practically jumped to your window sill, and tapped on the window despite the nagging feeling that tried to stop him. He watches as you rub your eyes before glancing over to him.

Another feeling washes over Duke, one of denial – and he finds himself panicking. You had to let him in. You would, right? You wouldn’t turn him away, would you? You couldn’t leave him out in the heat like this, you had come here for you. You can’t turn him away. No. No Duke can’t accept this – who are you? Where did you go? Did someone replace you? Was this a fake? Just what was going on-

The young vigilante’s thoughts are cut off as you open the window. “What’re you doing here, kid? I don’t remember making a call… unless there’s some trouble nearby?” Duke almost forgot he was in the suit, and he almost wanted to rip it off now, but he managed to keep it on… even if he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe despite how his own cowl was designed. Thank god, you were fine. Normal.

“I was just on patrol and, uh, decided to swing by? See how things are going, especially with all the activity around in the city as of late–” Duke is quick to reply, clearing his throat before admitting. “And I just wanted to see how you’re doing, y’know? Can’t imagine that things have been exactly easy these past few nights.”

You raise a brow, but just sigh and shake your head at his words. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but I got to get on with my morning, Signal.”

“I- I know! I just wanted to… do a search.”

“A… search?”

“Yeah, like- do you have any plants or anything around here?”

“Well, yes-”

“Perfect! Gotta check them and make sure they’re all good and healthy. It shouldn’t take long, and I won’t get in the way of anything, I promise!”

You can only raise a brow, but eventually relent and give a tired but amused, “Fine, do what you have to, then.”

So, you go on with your morning. Just getting ready, and keeping an eye on Duke – especially as he tries to make conversation. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but considering where you’re supposed to be standing, it is odd. Though, it only made you feel better as you decided to entertain him a little. Answering his questions, holding the position you’ve managed to maintain for the past few days, and keeping up appearances. It was easier during the day for countless reasons, a good night’s rest being one of them. Staying up was really taking a toll, and you needed your energy for what’s to come.

Nevertheless, it quickly comes to a point where Duke is obviously trying to stay, and you can’t figure out why. You feel like you’ve dropped enough hints at this rate, and so you try to confront him about it gently… only for him to stumble over his words and struggle to speak for whatever reason. It’s honestly a little frustrating, but you can work with this. You’ve dealt with worse than a clingy kid in a costume.

So, putting on a more natural smile as you remember to compose yourself, you make the same offer that’s always worked for you time and time again.

“Say, why don’t we have a bit of breakfast?”

— — — – — – — — — — — —

Barbara was beginning to regret taking Dick’s advice on getting some air, especially now that she was a few ways away from the only useful computer they could use at the moment. She appreciated the effort, but given the countdown and the list of questions they still have to answer – well, they didn’t exactly have a lot of time for a break.

Still, it was nice getting out of the clock tower for a bit. That much Barbara could agree with, even if it was strangely hot for fall… it couldn’t be the work of another villain, could it? They had their hands full enough as it is, and this cult wasn’t helping with that – not to mention the fact they didn’t know if it was just that.

“Ugh, why’s it so warm? I don’t remember fall being this hot.. did the news even mention something like this?”

Dick hums for a moment, and gives a shrug as they continue down the street, “Hm, I don’t think so! Just said something about today being nice?” He snickers slightly, “A little ironic, huh? It’s almost like they’re trying to downplay it! But who knows? Maybe they don’t even notice!”

Barbara can only huff in response, “How can they not? It’s almost like spring out here, or even summer, honestly-”

[“Oracle, focus.” Bruce’s voice so rudely pierces through the moment.]

“I would be if someone hadn’t taken me out.”

“Hey! It’s not a crime to get some fresh air every once in a while! Especially when on a tough, grueling case like this… you know that if we keep going at it with no breaks, we’ll all drop before that countdown even finishes.” Dick tries to defend himself, and Bruce at least acknowledges his point by staying silent – the only sign of him still being on the line being a gruff exhale he lets out.

Barbara just shakes her head and rolls her eyes, not bothering with a response as she waves off Dick’s words and usual antics. Though, it was a nice change of pace compared to how the last few nights have been – even if they somehow managed to avoid any more deaths last night. Tragedy was to be expected in their line of work, and Gotham’s reputation only made that more apparent, but this was… something else. It didn’t feel like they were any closer to figuring out the answers to questions they had even at the start of all this, or only had half of a possible answer. Like how they knew the other groups Clark was able to track are heading towards major cities, but they still didn’t know why aside from the Red Dawn you had mentioned.

At this point, it almost felt like a goose chase! And if they didn’t get anything concrete fast, who knows what could happen-?

“... Hey, what’s with all the people in front of that book store?” Barbara points out as she taps Dick’s shoulder, grabbing the officer’s attention.

Humming, he looks over to where Barbara was gesturing towards, and shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe there’s a sale or something? Some famous person released a new volume?” The very idea nearly makes her laugh, and as much as Barbara wants to – she’s getting a weird feeling about it. Like something important was going on over there, and that she had to check it out now.

“Well, it couldn’t hurt to check it out, right?” She suggests, only for Dick to remain where he was, which only now she realizes that they’ve stopped moving all together. Huh, when did that happen?

Nevertheless, Dick gives the shop a once over, his eyes narrowing slightly at the crowd that’s formed in front of it, and is continuing to grow as the seconds pass. Some still walk past, and seem to mind their own business – but for some reason, others seem drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and there could be only one explanation for it.

“Nah, I think we’ll be fine right here.” He says, sounding almost a little too sure of himself.

Barbara raises a brow and looks over to Dick, curious but also a bit annoyed for reasons even she can’t place. “Why do you think that-?”

Before she can even finish, you come strolling out from the alley just a few inches ahead of them, and Barbara blinks in slight surprise. What were you doing awake-?

“Hey, [Last Name]!” Dick greets without missing a beat, an odd sort of smile making its way across his face. “Where were you last night?”

You look over to him, blinking as well before straightening yourself out. “Oh! Officer Grayson, what a surprise… and Ms. Gordon? What are you both doing out?”

Barbara’s brows furrow, but before she could speak up, Dick spoke up again. “I asked you first, [Last Name]. Where have you been? I can’t imagine you’d take the night off in the middle of a serious situation.”

“I’m… sorry, but something had come up- and I apologize, but I don’t remember anyone mentioning you looking for me?”

“So you were on duty last night-?”

Barbara nudges Dick’s arm, “I’m sorry for my friend here, you’re one of the officers that came in from Metropolis, right?" She interrupts, surprising you a little more. Though, you take the opportunity and give a nod, offering a hand - one that Dick eyes before looking back at you.

Not once does he even attempt to glance at his supposed ally.

"Yes! Officer [Last Name] at your service, ma'am. It's been an honor working with your father."

Barbara nods, taking your hand... which gives her an oddly tingly feeling. One that makes the hairs on her arm stand, but she hardly notices. "Really? Well, I wouldn't get too used to that - wouldn't want to stay in Gotham for longer then you'd have to, right?" She laughs lightly, "I hope the city hasn't been too much of a handful, Officer."

"Oh, there's no need for that, Gordon! Everything's gone... well, as good as it can. We're doing all we can to resolve things as quickly as possible- I assure you." You try to reassure, and while Barbara appreciates the effort - she was still getting the funniest feeling that you were down playing the situation too much. To say you were calm felt like an understatement, you're more laid-back then anything, and for a case like this? That didn't feel like a good thing.

Still, she plays along as well. "Is that so? Then is there anything you know about the case?"

"Well, I don't think we know more then the commissioner's friend per say, but the detective's coming in later and-"

"Wait, the detective-?"

It's only then that you notice something, and already try to take your leave.

"I really wish we had more time to discuss! But I must be going now, please forgive me, Gordon- ah, and of course you, Grayson."

"[Last Name]-!"

Dick's plea is swallowed by the sizable crowd that passes them, and almost seems to go in the direction you were headed in. Yet, when trying to catch a glimpse of you - you're nowhere to be found.

Folding his hands into fists, Dick's nails dig into his palms - something he doesn't even seem to notice or feel. "Damn it." He curses under his breath. So much for that, now he'll have to-

"What was that about?" Barbara can't help but ask out loud, looking at the crowd that was already disappearing before glancing up at Dick. The expression he wore making her worried, and she reached out a hand. "Hey, you okay?"

He shakes it off, and just gives a nod, smile strained. "Just peachy, Babs."

Again, before Barbara could another word out - her phone buzzes, and it's only then that she realizes her commlink was disconnected for... whatever reason? Nevertheless, she picks it up, and tries to gesture to Dick that they should go, which... takes a while. Almost too long, considering how they've got less then twenty-four hours left on that countdown.

Selina's on the line, and she and Barbara try to figure out what they can - and Barbara can't exactly place it, but it feels like only her and Selina are even somewhat level headed. It makes no sense, and she doesn't have time to dwell on it, so Barbara just pushes it to the side for now.

Somehow, they're still having trouble getting the Batcomputer up and running, so Tim and the samples are going to be at the clock tower for the time being so they can continue to work despite the 'hiccup'. Until nightfall comes, Bruce is looking into what he can while trying to get the Batcomputer even semi-functional, and is talking with everyone he can, sharing all the information they have at the moment - trying to see if anyone else knows something they don't.

Meanwhile the other's seem to be doing... something. What exactly? No one's totally sure, but considering the time they've got left? Well, they can only assume it's something useful.

Which... made Barbara remember something just as the call ended. Sighing, she just sits back as her wheelchair continues down the sidewalk. "Where even is Duke, anyway? I can't believe he managed to slip past everyone before his patrol... and before we could come up with a plan too." She can't help but grumble, but really only hoped the kid was okay.

Dick, who had been quiet even since they turned back around - let his silence linger for a moment longer, as if thinking before responding. "Something tells me he's on patrol."

Barbara glances at Dick once more, "Oh yeah? And how can you figure that out when he left without his phone and commlink somehow?" 

Dick only gives a smile, one that Barbara had never seen before that gives her... mixed emotions at best. His eyes closed, and though the rays of sun only made him look better, Barbara couldn't deny the way his heart paused at the sight. What kind of smile even is that-?

"I've just got a really good feeling. So let's go back to the tower, m'kay?"

For once, the chirp in Dick's tone did little to ease Barbara's sudden feeling of dread. One that all too quickly turned into something similar to comfort, and she couldn't even fathom why.

— — — — — — — — — —

Before the moon even has the chance to fully rise, a certain mishmash family of vigilantes is still hard at work. Whatever a few of the others were working on in the batcave, Duke joined them the moment he got home - but after his suit was put aside, and practically put on quarantine with how much of the red stuff it had on it. It was like sand and had gotten into every small crevasse it could - and not just in the suit.

When asked about it, Duke just didn't know. Claiming he didn't remember even losing the suit, but knew he had it on this morning because - well, why wouldn't he? The questioning seemed to confuse him as much as everyone else, and Dick eventually put a stop to it... strangely enough.

Nevertheless, Tim was able to find a bit more information, and when asked he simply said, "Well, I don't think it'll help us right now but... these guys- the group, at least- has been around for a while now. Not like Ancient Egyptians or anything, but they've definitely been around longer than just a few months. It's hard to pinpoint when they were exactly formed or founded, but I'll give it a few years. Maybe even decades."

Chipping in, Barbara adds, "They've got their hands in just about anything you can imagine. It's hard to tie them to politics, but they've got banks, industries, and so on that have supported various churches that are around some of the areas Clark marked before... well, the black out last night. Thank god a backup was sent to the Clock Tower's database."

Tim hums in agreement, "Exactly. And, to add on to that- but even some businesses have given to a few of these churches or groups, but most seem to have their own way of spreading... whatever this is. Though, if only certain banks from these companies support the 'cause', or the company itself supports it is harder to figure out."

"Again, not super helpful, but definitely gives a better idea of who these guys are. Wouldn't be surprised if for most, this is a legitimate religion disguised as another."

Well, Tim was right - it didn't help them immediately, but it gave a bit of insight. These guys have been around for a while, but now the question is why they're popping up now, and if it's because of this 'Red Dawn', then they absolutely have to find out what that means before time is up. However, amongst the investigation, another question eventually pops up, and one that almost feels foolish to skip over.

Where are the bodies from the people who were involved with this cult, but ended up killing themselves when caught-?

Then, Bruce's phone rings just as he's about to contact Gordon. It's not a number he recognizes, but something, for some reason not even he can explain, compels him to pick it up.

Before Bruce himself can even try to resist, the button is already pressed.

[The person on the other end clears their throat before speaking. “Hello? This is Detective Greenwood, and to my understanding, this is Batman’s number?”]

Of course, naturally, Bruce doesn’t say anything. More or less just… confused. Was this even real? How could anyone expect him to believe that the detective that’s been absent for nearly four days, maybe even longer, is only now trying to show up? Talk about convenience. Not to mention priorities and dedication.

[The man on the other end sighs. “Well, if this is the right number or not, I’ll find out soon enough. I’ve heard you're not exactly a patient man, so I’ll keep this short- just for you. Meet me at the diner on fifth. It’s getting late, I know. Place is about to close, but I’ll be here until it does. If it’s closed when you decide to come by? I’ll be at the station, cleaning up the mess.” A beat of silence passes, and a small clinking sound could be heard before he adds, “I’m sure you’re aware we don’t have much time, but hey. The choice is yours.”]

With that, the call ends, and Bruce is momentarily left in silence. Everyone else is doing their own thing and trying to figure out a plan of action they all agree upon but this… this could change things – but that all depends on what this detective knows. The timing itself is a little more than suspicious, and while you had apparently mentioned the detective’s arrival earlier, being gone for so long, and during a time like this no less… almost nothing could make Bruce any less trusting of this. While he trusted your credibility somewhat – and that’s mostly due to Clark being able to back up the information you’ve been able to provide thus far – there’s no telling if this detective had any new information they haven’t figured out already.

… Yet with the time they have, and their lack of knowledge of what it even means, they didn’t exactly have the time to be nitpicky – and though it was highly unlikely, having someone explain or give a clue as to what this ‘Red Dawn’ even is would also be useful.

A rough sigh escapes Bruce, and from that alone, the room goes quiet. Glancing at the timer on the holographic screen of the Batcomputer, he takes a second or so before getting to work. “Dick, you’re coming with me to see this… detective. Selina, go with Damian to see where the bodies are. Jason and Cassandra? …Don’t follow too close behind.” They didn’t exactly have time to argue, and with Duke, Stephanie, and Tim doing something else? This’ll have to do.

Regardless, even if some disagreements and such are made, they all set out, and into the unforgiving city once again.

Knowing the area like the back of your hand certainly had its perks, and finding the diner itself isn’t very hard. Though before they can even think about stepping inside, the sheer emptiness inside the establishment is… not one any of them are familiar with. Not during a time like this, and especially not when there’s a bar inside the establishment. To say they’d stand out would be putting it nicely, but the invitation is already given once the single patron in the diner notices the only two visible figures outside and for them to come in.

Playing along never feels good, but what choice do they have? Besides, as if knowing something, Dick is the one that takes the first step forward. Bruce slides into the booth last.

Conversation sparks up, and it goes about as well as one would expect. The obvious questions are asked, but nothing notable or of any real importance is given. Greenwood only apologizes for his absence, gives little reasoning for it aside from ‘being caught up with something’ – as that’s something noteworthy, and yet not even Bruce has been informed of it. So, things are off to a great start.

Almost seemingly out of habit, Greenwood offers anything he can, only to be declined – something he just shrugs off before taking a stip of his coffee, or what looks to be something like it, as despite the hint of color Bruce swears he can see in the mug, it’s too dark to be much else. Still, all too aware of the time limit they’re working on, Bruce gets straight to the point, and Greenwood follows right along. As if to ease things, he even offers for the pair to call him John. Hm. That’s the first name he’s gotten out of the new batch without looking through records.

Strangely enough, Greenwood takes the time to even reassure them, saying of the waiter – the only employee visible at the moment, is blind. So they won’t have to worry about anyone spreading any rumors about seeing the Big Bat and Nightwing themselves in a diner late at night. When Dick remarks about passerbys, Greenwood only says, “A friend of mine’s got that handled.”

When Bruce understandably asks, “And who is this ‘friend’ of yours.”

Greenwood strangely responds with, “Well, I can’t say much for a list of reasons. But they’ve got a way with people, and even got me your number. That’s all you’ve got to know.” Pushing up the shades he wore all the while. There was no need for him, but the detective never made a move to take them off. Like they were a part of him.

To say the conversation got any more useful from there would be a lie. Greenwood treats it too casually, almost infuriatingly so considering the situation they’re in, but Bruce is able to remain patient despite it all, and Dick looks like he’s biting his tongue. Though, as if catching wind of this, the detective decides to finally move things in a meaningful direction, and offers for them to head to the station – which is conveniently when the diner was about a minute or so away from closing. Which, Bruce takes notice of how Greenwood pays as they move to stand. A Rose Bank card, huh? That’s… new.

Even as both vigilantes readily take the opportunity to meet the detective at the station, and in his office, the quietness at the city gnaws at Bruce.

Of course it bothers him more than he’ll ever let on, but it gets to him all the same. It doesn’t help that Bruce can’t explain it, but the silence itself feels like a taunt of sorts. Like a jab at him specifically – a show of how in all his years of being Batman and trying to look after this city for as long as he has, it’s only now, under mysterious circumstances and in the midst of this disaster of a situation, is the city finally quiet. Even if it’s not in the way Bruce wants it to be. Especially since it’s not the way Bruce would have wanted it to be.

Whoever’s behind this has got a real funny sense of humor, Bruce will give them that.

… Eventually, Greenwood reappears and greets the pair – seemingly unfazed by the fact that they’re already in his office, even if he does make a show of acting a little shocked. Hm.

“I assume you’ve gone through the files I’ve had out already?” It’s a promising start, at least. Especially when compared to being offered coffee just moments before.

Still, Bruce just narrows his eyes, and Dick remains… oddly quiet – something that’s starting to make Bruce question if he made the right choice with bringing him along. Though, there’s no time for regrets now, is there? “Among other things. Your investigation has been…”

“Confusing? Nonsensical? Well… I can’t really blame you there. Everything dealing with them seems odd at best. Alien, perhaps, at worst.”

Bruce raises a brow under the cowl, only for them to furrow a second after. “Alien?”

Greenwood nods, “Put simply, yes. Some of the rituals performed by this group in the past have made little to no sense, and can vary in… well, intensity, so to speak. I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened the other day? It’s unfortunate and upsetting, yes- but it does tie into a theme this group seems to exhibit with everything they do.” Opening a file, he lays it out on the table, and the pictures shown are not for the faint of heart. To even say they were grotesque is putting it lightly. “Sacrifice.”

“... The human sacrifice kind?” Dick asks, but for a strange reason, Bruce already gets the feeling his son knows the answer – something that only makes him more unsure of all this, even if, strangely enough, a part of him is starting to almost accept it?

Regardless, Greenwood shakes his head. “Not quite, even if I don’t blame you for jumping to that straight away. Their version of sacrifice seems more… personal, or at least to differ greatly depending on the ritual. It’s hard to say what people are making these sacrifices for- but if you’ve talked with anyone who may be in this group, their reasons tend to differ. Like they were all promised something that caters to them specifically, and thus whatever it is, through these rituals- they are making the necessary sacrifice for it. Such as their eyes, legs, arms, heart, soul-”

“Life.” Bruce finishes, and Greenwood nods. Though, with all of this, only one question seems obvious. “How does the head of the group even know what someone would be willing to make such big sacrifices for? Especially if they’re all personalized.”

“That’s where the weird part comes in, since… well, in all my time as a detective working on this case- I haven’t been able to figure that out. At a certain point, they seem to just know.”

Bruce’s brows further knit together, and his eyes narrow further, “That doesn’t make any sense-”

[“Hey~ Bats? Yeah… you know those bodies you had me and the kid snoop around for-? Which, you owe me big time for this, just fyi.” Selina’s voice rings through the commlink.]

Bruce pauses, left staring at Greenwood while Dick glances at him. The detective raises a brow.

[“Well, we’ve only got a couple of empty caskets from the couple of thugs that were from Gotham, just a bunch of that weird powder you’ve been obsessing over.” There’s a brief pause before she adds, “Kid thinks this is how they make the stuff. If so, with all the followers they have, and assuming they’re just as ‘devoted’ as the one’s we’re looking for? I think we’re way in over our heads here, B.”]

The vigilante didn’t even get a chance to respond, as an odd smirk grew on Greenwood’s face. “That’s the signal, huh? Damn, and here I thought I’d get a few more minutes in. Such a shame, you folk are really on top of things. Reminds me a bit of myself in my earlier days, honestly.” A sickening pop sounds, followed by the sickening echo of cracks and grinding bones as John’s arm extends unnaturally long.

His fingers become as thin as pencil tips, only to get filled as some sort of mass builds from the inside, and grows so large it strains the skin until it pops. Strings of nerves try to reconnect where they shouldn’t, muscle moves to almost reconstruct a stronger, larger arm - with bits of left over skin and flesh moving with it. Nothing ever stops moving, like it can’t ever settle in one spot, and the sheer mass of it all can be seen moving and writhing under John’s skin. Trying to spread itself over parts of his body with its gift.

Finally, he removes his shades, and reveals irises with a pale star pattern that shouldn’t be possible. Something that flickers and moves, with the sclera pulsating with prominent, red veins that only seem to be itching their way closer to the iris with each growth of flesh his body manages to create and sustain. Like a parasite itching to feed, and having been left to starve, it latches onto the side of his face, and practically devours his eye lid - revealing the muscle underneath, and using the mass of the skin to add to the muscular arm – which can hardly hold itself at the end, and comes undone in a pile of fleshy, squelching tendrils that wiggle and inch towards the heroes.

“Well, it’s as they say.” John chuckles, voice already breaking apart, and already beginning to sound wrong in every way. “It’s parents who make the ultimate sacrifice for their children.”

With that, the amalgamation of flesh in human form vaults over the desk, and grins as it launches itself forward, ”IT'S TIME FOR ME TO SEE MY LITTLE GIRL! You surely understand, don’t you, Man of BATS?!” A giggle in too high of a pitch escapes it, and more teeth could be seen peeking out from its gums.

Bruce and Dick are quick to dodge out of the way, and Cassandra is quick to use her cloak to cut all the lights in the station, but the office itself is left in a darkness only the blackness of space could replicate. Jason quickly jumps in, and the four get to work to subdue the creature.

The fight itself is a gross sight for numerous reasons. Acid is spit from the bellows of the organism's stomach, and yet sticks to any surface like a thick layer of pus. The flesh that makes up its arm travels along the body it now puppets, and tries to grab and become a part of all who come into contact with it. Even as shots and countless blows are done to it, all it does is laugh as it continuously launches itself forward haphazardly – as if chasing some sort of high. The fat of the torso is taken for tendrils that shoot out of its back and more flesh to enhance its own combat ability. The muscle and bone of the legs is consumed to enlarge the ribs and spine - making a whole other mouth that’s all bone and made vertically come out of it, and where the organs have moved to? Who’s to say.

Even as it’s thrown through the glass of the office, and the scratches make the thing bleed, it moves to stand and continue the fight – as if it can’t feel anything else, or, rather, it’s so focused on chasing that it’s able to ignore the pain? It’s hard to say, but laughs begin to mix with shrieking screams that ripped its throat and ruptured the stomach.

It was all messy, sloppy, and at some point, most were rushing to find a means to light it on fire – and when the opportunity came in the boiler room, and the most unlikely of them flicked the match as he tried to catch his breath? The nightmare refused to go down without the last say, despite never being given such a luxury.

“IT’S TOO LATE! THE NEW DAWN IS BOUND TO RISE, AND ONCE IT DOES WE WILL ALL BE REWARDED!! THE SUN, DRESSED IN RED SEES ALL, AND NOTHING CAN STOP IT! ALL PREPARATIONS HAVE ALREADY BEEN MADE! THE WATERS ARE BOILING! THOSE NOT AWAKENED WILL SEE! THE CHILDREN WILL SING ONCE AGAIN! AHAHA! THE EARTH COULD STOP ON ITS AXIS AND IT WOULDN’T STOP THE RE-”

Only for its violating, cries of praise to its lord and religion to swiftly be cut off by nothing but a bullet to its melting head that's flesh was tearing away at the skull of the human that once remained underneath.

“Thank god, he finally shut up-” Jason scoffed, only to cough as the smoke began to rise and he rushed out – following the others.

Outside of the station, they all tried to catch their breath. Beaten one way or another, but alive, and untouched. Still human, in spite of everything, and breathing through their own healthy lungs that weren’t nearly pulsating out of their chests.

The quiet streets remain, leaving only them. Yet, it didn’t seem to bother them now. They almost don’t notice it, and despite no words being spoken, they all come to a collective understanding.

When the commlink crackles to life, Bruce hardly reacts, and when he hears his youngest son’s voice – he feels like he knows everything just before he speaks.

[“Father?”]

“Yes… we understand now, too.” So, with this new information, and more being fed to them, they all head back home together. Now knowing what must be done, even without all the pieces put together. Almost as if, in a way, they just know now. Like something is telling them, and the more it gives. The more they need it.

The waters of the Earth begin to boil as it prepares to cry, one last time.

[violet-eng]

🔞 See you on the other side | Thanos (Choi Subong x fem!reader)

I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING IN A LONG TIME, VERY ASHAMED OF HOW BADLY WRITTEN OR BASIC THIS MAY BE.

Anyway, I don't know where this came from, I've had this desire for Choi Seunghyun stuck for like 10 years now, somehow I had to get rid of it. I'm still embarrassed…

Awkward plot, as always, I must add drama because if my life is full of drama then the fanfic just the same.

Summary: Fem reader has cancer, her ex is Subong, who asked her for drugs when she was working at the hospital, she gave them to him because they were for his jet lag and dizziness, but things escalate and she ends up fired and he with some sort of dependency. Anyway, they meet again in the squid game and he tries to fix everything with her because he obviously didn't forget her. And OBVIOUSLY for this first fic we have the typical and respectable BATHROOM SCENE.

Warnings 🔞🔥: mentions of cancer, SEX, SMUT, oral fem receiving, fingering. That…

In this fic, Thanos would be behaving somewhat bottom/sub? Is real life T.O.P a bottom? ask jiyong, enjoyyyyyy but not too much

〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□

Three people down, or perhaps it was four? In situations where one's personal safety is compromised, the finer details can appear insignificant. Your hands and legs trembled, and your entire body was a nervous system susceptible to error and misstep. You felt the acceleration of your heartbeat in your throat and ears, echoing in your head, and perspiration running down your cheekbones, the salty sensation in your mouth.

Your eyes turned to the spot where a figure was jumping carefree, holding the surprise in your chest when you saw Subong in the crowd, your Subong. He looked like a hallucination, hovering among the players, jumping over the corpses with a maniacal grin… drugs… your drugs.

The daily game had reached its end. It was shocking that people had died in such a strange way, and there were many questions to be answered. However, the pain was even more overwhelming because cancer was like that: painful, unbearable without medicine, especially in the current circumstances.

'Señorita' the voice was behind you; you felt his presence, the shadow of his figure enveloping you completely, and the scent of his skin and the dye of his hair brought back precious but bitter memories. How much pain love can endure.

'Su-bong', you whispered, though you thought your voice was firm, the nuance was faint and the volume low.

'My baby! What are you doing here?"His arms abruptly embraced you, drawing you into his body, and your cheek bumped against his chest.You felt that familiar, heady feeling of being protected by him — loved.

Away from the crowd, Subong inspects your face, noticing spots of blood that are not yours and a couple of dark circles under your eyes… nothing else.

'You don't look well,' he says with a grimace.

'I need some,' you say, your breathing heavy, your eyes watering, your gaze beseeching, 'You owe me. I got them for you.'

He does not take you up on your request, nor does he attempt to argue with you, because he knows that is one of the reasons you lost your medical licence.

'Say "Aaah"'.

He brings one of his hands in front of you, a colourful pill between his fingers, and slowly touches your lower lip to make you open your mouth.His fingers enter, and your tongue takes the pill, but habit, treacherous habit, appears and your tongue tastes his fingers. A touch of what you had been.

Your eyes meet his as you both reminisce about the good times you shared during your relationship. When you two were an item, he would gently slide his fingers into your mouth, and within moments, you would be caught up in a passionate embrace, him on top of you, making love from behind while whispering a range of compliments in your ear.

'Better?' he inquires, his fingers gently tracing the lips around your mouth. You nod as the memory fades. You feel as if you've tasted a taste of normality, something you haven't enjoyed in years.

The night after games and food, you feel heavy and lethargic. You sweat and shiver, and you realise that it is a reaction of your body. You had treated several patients like this for years, and the helplessness of becoming one had made you fall into a very dark place, almost abandoning yourself.

"Bathroom" you request one of the guards, but your voice is not as steady as your gaze. The guard declines, and you consider that if you had a pen with you, you would have moved him out of your way, as you did with the insurance agent who had refused to cover your chemotherapy.

"It's urgent. I just want to freshen up" you insist, aware that in your position you can't make demands like that.

‘Hey bro, she has cancer, if it was your sister or your mother would you treat her like this?’ Subong appears at the right moment, after having watched you for a long time, “look at her, she can't even stand up”.

He places his arm around you and shakes you vigorously, as if manipulating a rag doll. His methods are deceptively straightforward, yet his success is unparalleled.Even if you had been in optimal health, he would have still prevailed.

You wash your face and pour water on the back of your neck, observing the reflection in the mirror. Your bruised features bear little resemblance to the respectable oncologist you used to be.

Subong's drugs have effectively mitigated your feelings of rejection, causing all sentiments towards the person in the mirror to dissipate within moments. Although you don't recognize yourself, you feel a sense of rejuvenation, as if returning to a state of strength and painlessness.

Subong approaches you, resting his chin on your shoulder, leaning his hands against the sink. You feel his breath in your ear and the soft brush of his lips on your neck, his kisses below your ear, at the precise spot that makes your skin bristle, reminiscent of their days together.

Subong's voice, husky and subtle, with sweet undertones, asks, "Feeling better?" The enigma that is Subong: he seems impenetrable and stoic when he raps, yet under the stage he is a sensitive and playful creature, always with a striking look and a touch of madness.

"Better," you reply, looking in the mirror and observing the closeness between the two of you, as if time hasn't passed, as if you were never done with him, as if your souls weren't on a tightrope drifting off to who knows where. You experience a sense of longing for him, the intimacy, the warmth of his embrace, the soft rhythm of his breathing, the way his lips cling to your skin without kissing you, as if it causes him discomfort to touch you, as if you were made of porcelain.

"When we make that money, I'll pay for your chemotherapy," he says. His voice is masculine and deep, rough, and his eyes are like fogged glass, intrinsically wounded by your illness as if it were his own.

"What about your debts?" you inquire, turning to him, cradling his face in your hands, him still leaning on the sink behind you.

He bends down to look at you blearily, and with a smirk, almost cartoonishly, he says, "Fuck the debt. I only care about your well-being. I'll see who I'll take his share from."

This provokes laughter from you, which you hadn't experienced in nearly a year. The corners of your lips ache, and the sensation of your cheeks expanding sends shivers down your skin.

Subong remarks, "There it is," as he touches the tip of your nose. "My girl's cute laugh." His fingers trace the contours of your lips, evoking memories on your skin with his touch, and reviving sensations you thought were lost.

He knows how to make you feel good, how to tease you, and how to be gentle because he knows your body wouldn't be able to handle it if he used all his strength.It's like when you went to the bars -the body remembers, so you move naturally from soft kisses and panting to one of the cubicles.

Your pants are on the floor, your underwear is around one of your ankles, and you are sitting on the toilet seat.Subong is skilled at rapping, which allows his tongue to glide with delight. He breathes softly as he holds his face between your legs.His fingers glide up your thighs, tracing ancient marks with his thumbs, while his tongue paints your velvety walls with his devotion.

You intertwine your fingers in his hair, your head thrown back, your eyes rolling back as the combination of drugs and his adept tongue takes hold. You hear him emit a low, throaty sound as you discreetly disengage from his grasp and press his face against yours, his nose brushing against your sensitive area.

You inhale his scent, the rhythm of your heart accelerating, and you feel the warmth of his fingers between your legs. His fingers begin to brush against your folds, and you recognize the familiarity of this touch.

"I don't think I can bear it," you whisper, pulling him away from you. Your hands are in his hair, your eyes fixed on his, which are black and smiling as his tongue wipes his chin. His tanned skin is glistening with the crystals of your juices.

"I promise to be gentle. I will make you feel good, baby." The dichotomy of sweetness of his face and the naughtiness of his fingers exploring your womanhood plunges you into an unknown territory somewhere between amusement and discretion.He enjoys seeing the way you squirm at his touch, at his fingers delving inside you and roaming over formerly dominated territory.

He swiftly locates your sensitive areas, his fingers pressing firmly into your body. His fingers disappear into your ecstasy, and you begin to rhythmically shake your hips, in harmony with the intruders testing your last reserves of sanity.

"So… ohhh-"

Subong looks at you satisfied as you begin to chant incoherently. He has always loved to please you, and that's why he has been so devoted to your body, learning every nook and cranny and experimenting with his movements to achieve the perfect reaction of your being, which is now destroyed under his fingers.

"More," you moan, gripping his shoulders with your nails, and he, your devoted instrument of pleasure, takes you to the edge of losing yourself in your own pleasure, of feeling every electric fiber of your body.

"Don't hold back."The rough voice and soft tongue are in full effect, and you can feel your body responding with heightened sensation. Your voice is almost a scream, your teeth holding back your lips, and your shoulders tensing as it reaches its peak, and then it explodes inside you. You exhale hard, your legs wrapping around his head, your hands in his hair, almost tearing out his locks.

"Shit," he laughs, as you shudder and catch your breath. "When you heal, I'll do you better. I promise." He rises to kiss you, his tongue touching the roof of your mouth, and your own taste bathes your tongue.

"How did you know I had cancer?" you know this is not the time to ask, and yet you do.He smiles over your lips as he kisses you.

"When I went to see you at the hospital, they told me you had been arrested by the police for stabbing an insurance agent during your chemotherapy," he says over you, proud as he wipes traces of saliva from your chin.

"You knew my medical license had been taken away. Why did you look for me at the hospital?"

"I wanted to beg your forgiveness. I would ask one of your old friends for her phone to call you, you would have answered them," he said, kneeling down to pull your panties up.

"I am sorry I blocked your number."

"It's all in the past," he says, smiling up from the floor and wiping his lip with his thumb. "It was good," he continues, "when we get out of here, you can unblock me."

"Do you believe we'll survive this?" you pull up your pants and escort him out of the cubicle.

"I'm not certain of anything, but if anything happens, I'll see you on the other side," he says, taking your hand in his and stroking the back of your skin.

"See you on the other side…"

[secret-moonstruck]

STUCK ON ME | Y.JW

— Pairing: Jungwon x fem!reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: Y/N found an abandoned kitten in the rain but she didn't expect things to end this way.

— Genre: smut

— Warnings: unprotected sex, cum inside, making out, begging, hickeys, blood, overstimulation.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

The rain fell heavily as the shadow watched Y/N typing on her laptop. 

When he noticed that she started to pack her things to leave, he smiled, his fangs showing. 

- This is going to be an interesting meal. - He said before transforming.

Y/N was focused on finishing writing a chapter that she didn't notice the heavy rain or how dark it was, as soon as she noticed this, she started to packing her things to leave.

Running home she heard a meow and stopped to see where it was coming from, she then saw a kitten hiding from the rain in a corner, without thinking she picked it up and hugging it to protect it from the rain took it to her apartment.

Y/N dried the kitten and fed him, when she made sure he was comfortable, she went to take a shower and warm up as she was still soaked from the rain.

While sleeping that night Y/N woke up nervous feeling like she was being watched, but she ignored it and went back to sleep.

The next day Y/N returned early from the cafe after finishing a chapter of her book. She looked for the kitten but couldn't find it, until she heard a noise coming from her room. When she opened the door she screamed in panic and tried to run away after seeing an unknown man lying comfortably on her bed. But barely taking two steps out of the room she was grabbed and thrown against the wall.

- A panicked prey always makes the meal even better. - He said, inhaling her scent, feeling her fear.

- Who are you? - Y/N asked shakily.

- Who i am? I'm Jungwon and you're Y/N, my sweet prey.

In the midst of her panic, she remembered the kitten and asked if he had done anything to him.

- So sweet, worried about me? - A falsely sweet smile appeared on his face. - Don't you understand yet? There is no kitten, it was me all along. So easy to fool, a little transformation and you're down immediately.

As soon as he finished speaking, he bit her. The pain at first was horrible, but soon she felt something strange, a shiver ran through her entire body, she was feeling pleasure.

When Y/N moaned Jungwon stopped immediately, he didn't expect that, she must have been screaming to death in pain. Only then did he realize how there was something different in his blood.

- What are you? - He asked confused. - Whatever, it doesn't matter

Before she could think about running away he bit her again. Her blood wasn't just sweet, it wasn't just something that satisfied his hunger, there was something more powerful, something that was messing with his head and his body. He wanted more, but not only that, it made him want her. Her body, her soul, everything, she should be his.

Fear still hovered over Y/N, but at the same time she wanted it, the feeling was too good, she wanted him to devour her in every possible way.

- Damn, I can't believe I'm going to do this. - Jungwon decided to keep her alive at least for now.

- Do what? - Y/N asked scared. But instead of giving an answer he kissed her.

This shocked her more than if he had killed her. The kiss was fierce, his body pressing hers against the wall, while he firmly held her waist, the other hand grabbed her right leg, his claws squeezing it tightly, making it bleed. 

- Please, devour me. - Y/N begged between moans. He more than immediately obeyed her. 

Both clothes being quickly removed from their bodies, he ached to possess her.

He picked her up on his lap, his cock desperate to be inside her, and soon it was. 

She could die there and she would be happy, the way he fucked her as if he had been waiting for this for centuries.

Y/N was grateful that he was holding her because she was sure she couldn't stand, her legs were weak, her whole body was losing strength as she felt him going so fiercely deep inside her. 

Nothing felt like enough, Jungwon wanted more from her, more and more, as his head spun with the sensation of being inside her, he varied between kissing her roughly or drinking some more of her blood. 

With her blood dripping down his lips as he sucked her, he knew he couldn't take it anymore, the way she clenched around him as she felt the pleasure as he drank her blood.

Y/N's moans could be heard in the distance as she reached her orgasm, tears streaming down her face as he finally came inside pushing more and more into her. Y/N head falling onto his shoulder in exhaustion when it was finally over.

Even overwhelmed she thought about how she would probably be killed next, an ironic smile on her lips as she thought that at least it would be a good death. Soon after, she fainted.

When she woke up Y/N was confused, she thought she would be dead by now. She tried to get up, but felt her hand trapped. Of course she was alive, but it was too much to ask for him to leave and let her live as if nothing had happened.

- Finally woke up. - Jungwon's voice came from the other side of the room.

- Why am I arrested? - Y/N didn't mind asking rudely, death no longer scared her.

- Because my sweet Y/N, I don't want to have to chase you if you try to run away. - I don't have the patience for that kind of thing.

- But why haven't you killed me yet? Are you going to keep me trapped here so I always have a snack at your disposal?

- I wish that was it. - His expression was a mixture of anger and disappointment. - Unfortunately, I can't kill you. 

Jungwon sat on the bed next to her touching her face with a smile full of sarcasm. He looked increasingly angry.

- There is a story, which I never believed, about how vampires are supposedly always destined to find someone, the person they would give their life for in exchange to protect. A person to whom they would give their entire being, whom they are destined to serve. Baseless idiocy. - He said, squeezing her face while analyzing her.

- I always thought they were just stories, but guess what? Apparently this is real. - He released her face angrily, moving away.

- Why did I have to drink your blood? Why didn't I choose another victim? Just you with your stupid blood that bewitched me. - If I didn't want to have you so much for myself I would kill you now, not because it's normal for me, but because I hate you so much for doing this to me. - He was clearly in agony.

- Is that what they call karma? - Y/N said laughing loudly. - You tried to terrorize me and kill me. And now you're saying you stuck with me?

He looked at her in disbelief. Y/N was nothing like he imagined, she wasn't afraid of him, the look of superiority and control she had over him made him feel small. It should be the opposite, he is the monster here, he is the one who should have control over her, not the other way around.

- Let me go. - Y/N ordered. Even though he was angry, Jungwon couldn't help but follow Y/N's orders, her voice had some kind of power over him, it was like a spell, and now he was the one who couldn't escape.

— Note2: Sorry if it's not good, I'll try to improve it.

[fatuismooches]

Celestia has fallen, ending a period of turmoil, meaning you and Dottore are free to do what you want with the rest of your lives - but both of you have trouble getting accustomed to this new, strangely peaceful life.

Seeing the sky completely clear save for puffy clouds was a sight that still took getting used to, after all, the island that had once been there was commonplace for everyone. But now, after a long and arduous war, and centuries of preparation and loss, it was over. Celestia had been defeated, the era of rebuilding was slow yet steady, and the Fatui had disbanded shortly after their victory.

... Meaning that you and Dottore, who once had much to do and worry about, now had... very little to do and worry about. His once-important experiments had reached their peak, and what's more, you were finally free from your illness. There was no need for all-nighters spent hastily writing notes, creating new concoctions for you, tending to the darker side of his work. Similarly, the days spent in anguish and sickness had now become a memory of the past, although your body was still slowly recovering.

So what was there to do now?

That was what you thought as you lay in the dark, cuddling close to Zandik's chest in your new home. It was an odd feeling - having him this close for days on end - sleeping with you from nightfall to the sun rising. It was once an exceedingly rare occurrence, from when he was once a busy Harbinger, but here he was still in bed. (Although he still had a habit of waking up early - whether he laid there and stared at you, or got up to find something to busy himself with was still a fifty-fifty chance.)

To be honest, now that you thought about it, you never had a real, fleshed-out plan on what to do after everything was over. All you had was the first step - acquire a spacious and cozy home in Sumeru to settle down. And well, that had been accomplished surprisingly easier than you anticipated - The Jester had gifted you such a house in a perfect spot - leaving it as a goodbye gift.

In the beginning, the days had been as leisurely as possible, bordering on lazy. Sleeping in late into the day, hours upon hours spent appreciating each other's presence and body. You defended it as making up for centuries of lost time, although Dottore didn't protest in the first place. Dinner was spent quietly outside, looking up at the sky that was no longer false. However, it was obvious both of you were growing a bit restless - which was why you quickly came up with a plethora of new things to do.

—

"Let's start a garden!"

And so had started a common goal between you two - although another issue that had been presented in this new relaxing life was Dottore's lingering hesitation to trust you with certain activities. Constantly he was keeping an eye on your every move or stepping in himself, even though he knew you could do some things yourself now.

Truthfully, you couldn't blame him, already aware that overprotectiveness that lasted centuries wouldn't go away so easily, but that was something that would have to be worked through slowly. He was still performing a routine check-up on your every day...

"Zandik, it's just digging up some soil. You're acting like the worms are going to attack me or something."

"... Just make sure not to scrap your knees."

"I'm also not a child- darling, what are you injecting into the plants...?" Your husband only smiled, his sharp teeth gleaming.

"This? Do not worry, we won't consume these ones. This is simply... a test to indulge my curiosity."

Well, you always knew his love of experimenting would never truly go away! Maybe you'll get some cool, fucked up, weird mutated plants!

—

"Let's get a kitty so Foxttore has a friend!"

Despite all the tragedy you'd endured, Foxttore was one of the few things that remained with you the whole time, even after the way. The creature quite liked Sumeru after surviving Snezhnaya - it was always lazily sunbathing and refused to come in. Dottore still kept his habit of locking it out.

The pufflings too of course - but they had made the two of you become the gossip of the children - turns out the black puff balls started playing with the kids and kept returning to your house, making them whisper about "the two weird grown-ups who live out in the middle of nowhere." You were amused.

Regardless of your reputation, now you and your husband were in the perfect environment to finally own a cute kitty. The lab wasn't exactly the ideal place for such an animal, after all.

... So now, an equally as lazy cat could be found sleeping on Zandik's lap as he read by the window, giving it languid tummy rubs and pets. Foxttore wasn't invited.

—

"Let's go exploring!"

When you had dropped this idea on Zandik, he had given you a strange look.

"All this time, you had been pleading with me to stay inside and relax, but now you wish to go and exert yourself?" Despite his remarks, you could tell Zandik wished to do something with his hands as well.

"Well, this is because it's going to be fun! It'll be like we're students again!"

And with that, you two were back inside the huge Ruin Golem in the forest. To be honest, there was not much to actually explore here, but... it was nostalgic. It was places like these where the two of you spent a lot of time together, and where he told you of his grand ambitions as a young scholar.

And even after all this time, the former Harbinger was still fascinated with the technology, already playing with something, to which you joined him. No doubt he already knew the answer, but it was something to keep his once-overworked mind occupied.

"Guess the two of us aren't cut out for this 'normal life' stuff, eh? Coming back here even though there's nothing left to be discovered. Think the notes we left are still here?"

"That's impossible. They must have long eroded by now," he briefly commented, hands still running over the cool metal.

"So... wanna test if you're still motion-sick?"

—

"Let's teach you how to cook... again!"

Loads of spare time had come with nothing better to do than to attempt to make the impossible become possible once again, which was why you had the Harbinger turned house husband in the kitchen with you, equipped with an apron you forced him to wear if he wanted any sweets.

This time you had decided to forget actual food and make one, singular, cupcake. Surely he couldn't mess that up, right?

You made him clean the kitchen after throwing out the burnt apron.

—

In conclusion, there were still lots of things that could fill the endless time you two were given. But there was still something you wanted, although you weren't sure how to bring it up.

The loss of the segments still remained a wound in your heart, although you moved on from all those years ago. More specifically, Zandy was someone you held extremely dear in your heart and memories. The child had changed your life, and Dottore's too - opening his own heart to softness - which was something you longed for too.

However, naturally, you were nervous asking Zandik about it. After all, becoming a father was probably not something he saw himself doing. Of course, your anxiety was quickly recognized by your lover, who beckoned you one night.

"What plagues your mind?" His question startled you, and although you knew he'd come around to asking eventually, you still weren't prepared to answer properly. But you knew you'd have to come out with it soon.

"There's... something I want."

"Tell me," Zandik quickly reassured you. "I'm sure it is within my capabilities."

"I... I don't know if you'd want to," you awkwardly admitted, to which your husband gave you a hard look, and then moved to squeeze your hand.

"I can only determine that if you tell me what it is you desire." With a sigh, you had to agree.

"I've been thinking... about our... family," the last word was uttered softly, as if you still couldn't believe things reached this point.

"There's you, me, Foxttore, the pufflings, our kitty Beaker, and I guess the crows around here could count too... and I love everyone a lot!" Dottore hummed in agreement, rubbing his fingers over your knuckles.

"But... what if we added someone else to our family? A... c-child, perhaps," you finally blurted out your confession, working up the courage to look at him directly. Speaking of, he had stopped wearing that mask of his now, so you were always subject to his brilliant red eyes. As such, you witnessed the gems widen slightly and his jaw slacken. Quickly you rushed to continue.

"I-I know it'll be a lot of work and responsibility but together we can do it! And I know it probably isn't something you thought of but I'll be here with you all the way... I know you won't let the past repeat itself," you murmured, well aware of how he was treated as a child. Dottore's gaze had moved to the stars, still silent at your words, which was making you worry at this point.

"If-"

"It is not something I am opposed to," Zandik finally admitted, and you had to hold back a sigh of relief.

"Truly?"

"Yes. However..." He trailed off, perhaps wondering how to articulate the fears you already knew full well - how could someone like him ever be a loving father? Did he even have that capability? How could he hold his child with his stained hands?

"I understand," you squeezed his hand. "We'll figure it out together," you promised, "just like how we figured everything else out. How else would we have stayed together for a couple hundred years?" You gently teased him to which he finally looked at you again, an unusually soft look in his eyes.

"We will," Zandik agreed, kissing you on your forehead.

—

Time continued to move, and from a student to Harbinger, Zandik now found himself a parent, who was now cuddled in between him and you - though you were already fast asleep, while his daughter had woken him up in the middle of the night. The fact that Dottore hadn't woken up earlier was a testament to how much he loosened up these past years...

"Go back to sleep. I won't take you out to the forest if you're too tired." The young girl pouted at her father's strictness.

"But it's not my fault! I'm too excited to watch you do your experimenting stuff!" (In reality, all they were doing was collecting samples of plants.) With a sigh, the man stroked her hair.

"Oh! Oh! How about you sing the song they always sing to you when you're grumpy! That always makes you relax!" His daughter seemed to have picked up some of your cheeky, bargaining habits...

"If you do, will you quiet down?" The girl quickly nodded.

"Very well..." And so, he began humming a tune, that was rather off-key despite you teaching it to him quite a few times, but his little girl didn't seem to notice much.

In the dark, you secretly smiled at the sweet interaction. To think after centuries of pain, you finally obtained such a life...

Everything would be okay, in the end.

[xjulixred45x]

Jjk yanderes (gojo, choso, Nanami.. etc) with darling who just doesn’t give a damn about them being a yan. Like the yandere can kill someone or be extremely clingy, and the darling is just like 🤷‍♀️ cool who cares. Like they just accept it and continue, not rlly caring about how bad of a person their yandere is to other people, as long as they’re good to darling. If yan is extremely clingy, or “nicely” pressure darling to move in with them, darling is just like “ah okay 🤷‍♀️ free rent ig”

I live for willing darling supremacy

Yandere Satoru Gojo/Kento Nanami/Choso Kamo x Darling who dosen't care that they are Yandere

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: neutral

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, unhealty mindset, overbearing behavior, overprotection, darling is willing and is totally okay with Yandere being Yandere

Choso Kamo

• AWWWW CHOSO IS DEFINITELY THE BEST YADERE ON THE LIST.

• Not only is he a respectful Yandere who won't do anything Darling isn't comfortable with, but he's so damn sweet it's almost diabetic.

• In general, Choso is the most likely to have a willing Darling, because Choso probably doesn't even fall in love with a “normal person” in the first place.

• Most likely a curse user, for example, or with a strange ability that makes them socially rejected. Precisely generating a mutual empathy that evolves into something more.

• In Choso's case, he has never seen REAL romantic relationships before, he has no idea how to approach his romantic interest, so he ends up showing his affection in unorthodox ways.

• Like, for example: watching them in the middle of the night as they arrive home safely and without problems (if so, he will happily get rid of the problem).

• Give very personal gifts or bizarre gifts (that may or may not be stained with something red).

• Even going so far as to kidnap the reader if things get bad with the Curse users and he needs to “protect” them more closely.

• Choso genuinely doesn't realize how creepy and unhealthy all of this is, he rationalizes and justifies it with his own young mentality. He does not do it out of malice, it is genuine love, but tainted with misdirected actions.

• For the same reason, he doesn't even see anything strange in the fact that the reader is chill with the whole kidnapping. Just because it's the first time he's done this, was they supposed to react differently?

• Choso is so hungry for acceptance and affection that when the reader gives it to him without reservation, he simply melts and can't handle himself anymore. He had wanted this for so long and he didn't even know it.

• Choso is loving, he respects his Darling's wishes and tries to get them to act like his version of a “normal” couple.

• Probably the only Yandere on this list who would listen to the reader's recommendations and ideas, precisely because he knows that they have no malice. And like I said before, Choso prioritizes his partner's comfort above everything else, so he takes their opinion very seriously (LEARN SOMETHING GOJO)

• The most emotionally intelligent of the three, ironically. He is the oldest of ten children and is definitely good at comforting Darling. Always with open arms and dry shoulders.

• Protective at lethal levels, he will not blink to kill large numbers of people if they come between him and Darling.

• In general, he doesn't realize it at first, but it doesn't like it affects him in the long term. He knows reader is his and he is of reader. Forever.

Kento Nanami

• He is suspicious, A LOT.

• Nanami is one of the few self-conscientious Yandere in JJK, who at the same time takes a RIDICULOUS amount of time to finally take the next step in approaching his Darling and hitting it off.

• And when he does, it takes a STUPID amount of willpower and conviction for him not to simply push reader out of their life, even though reader is clearly miserable, Kento knows they would be even more so if they lived with a monster like him.

• But to his surprise, it is READER who keeps looking for him, it is READER who wants to talk to him and stay in touch. It's like they completely ignore all the red flags that Nanami shows every time they are together (overprotection, jealousy, even violence)

• By the same token, he finds it difficult to believe that anyone GENUINELY is okay with the kind of attitudes he has proven to have OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

• When Nanami demands (politely) that the reader move in with him, he expected to have to resort to some manipulation tactic, to have to make the reader feel OBLIGED to do it, but the only thing he encountered was a “Okay, free rent”

• I MEAN???

• You can't blame the man for feeling confused.

• Nanami tries to give his Darling more space than Gojo, but at the same time he is so overprotective that it almost seems the opposite. He is able to put cameras in the house, have the reader wear an ankle bracelet when he is traveling, do regular medical checkups to ensure they are not sick, etc.

• Also Kento will not allow any item that could be useful for the reader to harm themself, putting a lock on the knife cabinet, putting razors out of service, even not allowing shoes with strings (in more extreme cases)

• HE DOES ALL THAT AND THEY HOPE HE'S NOT SUSPICIUOS???

• However, when Darling tells him why, it puts it a little more into perspective.

• Reader is not with Nanami because he is harsh and demanding with everyone, reader is with him because of how delicate and sweet Kento is with them, how he is patient with them, how he tries to improve their day, whether by bringing them food or trying to be emotional, how he cares for them.

• The reader doesn't care about others, they only cares about KENTO. And Kento doesn't care about others, he only cares about Darling.

• From here on, things improve, Nanami is no longer so paranoid, the reader gains certain freedoms by showing that they is genuinely voluntary (like being able to go out with Nanami, go shopping together, etc.)

• It is a new domestic environment, much calmer and happier.

• Nanami's Yandere tendencies are even taken down a notch. After all, why be jealous of someone who is already yours? Obviously he will take good care of them, but he knows he can trust them and they can trust him.

• They are a mutually twisted couple. But they love each other, at the end of the day. That's what's important.

Satoru Gojo

• Oh, he's ENJOYING this like you have no idea.

• I think the ideal Darling for this scenario would be someone who has had a bad time in life, someone who has hardly experienced love. Quite the opposite, Satoru, for the same reason he felt as attracted to the reader as he did.

• Some of them did it out of obligation, saving the weak, no matter how exhausting it may be, however, the reader ended up finding it more and more… more interesting. More intoxicating.

• He expected fighting, screaming and crying. But instead he was simply met with acceptance, resignation, indifference to his advances. Like they didn't care how obviously HARMFUL he was.

•Although, Gojo is self-centered enough to believe that his Darling loves him even if they doesn't, so by acting on his expectations they is only inflating his massive ego.

• I think he would be the only Yandere that no matter if the reader is voluntary or not, he is still one of the worst to have.

• Although of course, it's not so bad for a reader who is okay with it.

• Gojo is a very affectionate Yandere who is very erratic and definitely likes to have his “partner” around to ensure that they are within reach. Under His protection and control.

• With a willing reader, Satoru would be slightly softer, as he doesn't even think that this could be a trick, he can see through them after all.

• That means, more gifts, more pampering, and after a certain time, more freedoms. It's not a big deal, it's just walks to the park or in the car. But this reader has many more privileges, such as internet access, more space, etc.

• even Satoru tends to listen to them more because he knows that they do not “play”, because he respects them more than if they were involuntary (in that case he would probably look down on them to determine dominance, but here it is not even necessary!)

• As time goes by, Gojo would even start bringing Reader to his workplaces, simply because he can't keep his hands to himself, he is just confident enough that Reader isn't going to run away, and what do you think? They don't!

• If Satoru ever hears the reasoning behind why the reader stays with him, he would partly laugh, he honestly thinks it's funny that they only does it for the rent and being alone.

• However, this can quickly evolve into anger at whoever has hurt the reader in the past. With Gojo, no one gets away with it.

• He's a jealous Yandere, even if he's sweet and cuddly, he's always VERY close to just killing the entire mall every time they go shopping for new clothes. It's the custom.

• Fortunately, it seems that the reader knows what they've gotten themselves into, so I wouldn't worry about them, I'd worry about anyone who has done something to them in the past, because now they have some kind of nuclear bomb for a boyfriend.

• Good luck!

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

I'll update a little later bc i'm with a new medication for the Anemia thingy, but not worry! I'll still take Requests until about 10 of febraury.

I'm kind of missing taking Request of forgoten fandoms in the blog(like Voltron, Slugterra, Dororo(Tahomaru My Child), ahhhhh, the good Old days)

[airybcby]

also for the new event ~ 🍊 & 🍰 with kunigami please!

hi! of course!

a kunigami rensuke orange cake :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° fall out of line

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event!

♡ content — kunigami rensuke x gn! reader, ex! kunigami, ex! reader, mutual pining, established relationship (past) , kunigami wanting to focus on soccer, cuddling, second chance romance

♡ synopsis — all kunigami rensuke had wanted was to go pro in soccer, but at the cost of losing you? maybe this secind chance was everything he'd been waiting for.

You hadn’t seen Kunigami Rensuke in over a year. Not since the day he ended things.

“I need to focus on soccer,” he had said, standing in your doorway, his tone heavy with determination and regret. “I can’t give you the time or attention you deserve.”

You’d nodded, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral. Kunigami’s dream of going pro had always been a driving force in his life, something you’d admired about him. You knew he wasn’t lying when he said he was doing this for you—but knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

The first few months after the breakup were a blur of trying to fill the space he’d left behind. The late-night texts, the movie marathons, the quiet comfort of his presence—they were all gone. And now, over a year later, you were standing in a shared apartment with him again, thanks to the school’s brilliant marriage simulation program.

Of course, out of all the people in your class, it had to be him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice lower than you remembered, as if carrying the weight of unspoken things.

“Hi,” you replied, gripping the strap of your bag tightly.

He shifted his weight awkwardly, his golden eyes darting to meet yours for a brief second before flicking away. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you said, your throat dry. “It has.”

The silence that followed was heavy, both of you acutely aware of the space between you.

Living together again was… surreal.

Kunigami was still the same in so many ways, and yet there was a new edge to him. He was quieter, more reserved, as if he were keeping something locked away.

He took on the role of caretaker almost immediately, cooking meals and cleaning without a word. When you offered to help, he’d shake his head and say, “It’s fine. I’ve got it.”

It was the same thoughtfulness you remembered, but now it felt tinged with guilt, like he was trying to make up for something.

The first week passed with polite conversations and carefully maintained boundaries. But as the days turned into weeks, the awkwardness began to thaw—just a little.

One evening, after dinner, you suggested watching a movie.

He hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” you said, giving him a small smile. “It’s not like there’s much else to do.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright. But you pick.”

Settling onto the couch felt strangely familiar, like slipping into an old routine. He sat at one end, keeping a respectful distance, but as the movie played, you noticed the tension in his shoulders easing.

“That was… not bad,” he admitted as the credits rolled, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“See?” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Told you it’d be fun.”

He chuckled softly, the sound stirring something in your chest. For the first time in a long time, it felt like you were seeing glimpses of the Kunigami you used to know.

The next week, you convinced him to watch another movie.

Halfway through, you both fell asleep on the couch.

When you woke up, it was to the unfamiliar sensation of warmth against your side. Blinking groggily, you realized you were leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. His arm was draped loosely around you, his steady breathing brushing against your hair.

Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the scene.

Kunigami stirred, his eyes fluttering open. When he registered the situation, he tensed immediately, pulling away as if burned.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his face flushing red. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, brushing it off even as your cheeks burned. “Really.”

But the tension lingered, heavy and unspoken.

The shared moments began to pile up, each one pulling you back toward the memories of what you used to have.

One night, while you were working on an assignment at the kitchen table, you caught him watching you out of the corner of your eye.

“What?” you asked, looking up.

He blinked, as if snapped out of a trance. “Nothing,” he said, turning back to the dishes.

But the softness in his expression lingered, making your chest ache.

You thought about all the nights you used to spend like this—curled up together on the couch, laughing over something silly, sharing quiet conversations about your dreams and fears. It felt impossible to ignore how much you’d missed it.

As the program neared its end, the apartment felt heavier with each passing day.

The night before you were set to leave, you suggested watching one last movie. He agreed, though his expression was hard to read.

This time, you both stayed awake.

When the credits rolled, neither of you moved to turn off the TV.

“I’m going to miss this,” you said quietly, not looking at him.

Kunigami stiffened. “Yeah.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the way his jaw was clenched, his hands balled into fists on his lap.

“Hey,” you said softly. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained. “I thought… ending things would be better for you. That I was doing the right thing.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening.

“But now, being here with you…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong.”

Your heart raced, hope and fear warring within you.

“Kunigami,” you said, your voice trembling. “If you think there’s a chance for us—”

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” he interrupted, his golden eyes meeting yours. “I can’t promise I’ll get it right this time.”

“You don’t have to promise anything,” you said, reaching out to take his hand. “I just want to try.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his hand tightened around yours.

“You’re really stubborn, you know that?” he said, a faint smile breaking through.

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, your voice shaky with relief.

And as he pulled you into a tentative embrace, you felt a spark of hope—like maybe, just maybe, you could build something new together.

ughh kunigami my love

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 25 - 'For You' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.9 k

Layla had left, and with her went the familiar comfort she always brought. You felt a sudden pang of loneliness settle in your chest, even though you weren’t alone. Most of the boys were still there, a few lingering outside, their chatter and laughter filling the air. You leaned up against a chair, watching the group. Your eyes drifted to Jack, and your mind began to race. Layla had planted a seed—how was tonight going to go? Was this your moment to act natural with Trent in front of Jack? Or was there some unspoken rule you hadn’t caught onto yet? It felt strange, like you were walking a tightrope. You didn’t know the plan—didn’t even know if there was a plan. But you felt uneasy, caught between the newness of this dynamic and the familiarity of the people around you. Slowly, you made your way over to Trent. You slipped your hands around his strong bicep, seeking reassurance more than anything else. He looked down at you, and the warm smile that spread across his face made your chest feel lighter, if only for a moment.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. The gesture was natural, instinctive, but it sent a ripple of awareness through you. You wondered what their friend he was talking to thought. You were caught in your own head, drowning in overthinking.  "Everything alright?" Trent's voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him looking at you earnestly, his expression soft, his eyes full of concern as he took you in. You smiled, nodding.

"Yeah, just said bye to Layla." You explained masking. He pulled you in a little closer, his hand moving to the small of your back. The boys decided to head inside, and Trent took a step to follow them, his hand staying in its place on your lower back. It was a subtle motion, one that spoke volumes about the way he claimed you, even in the smallest of ways. He guided you gently, expecting you to follow. But to Trent’s surprise, you didn’t. You grabbed his hand, halting his movement. He turned back to you, his brows furrowing slightly in question. 

“What’s up, baby?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear, mildly confused why you stopped. You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced at Jack across the patio. He was laughing at something Noah said as they walked inside, oblivious to the storm brewing in your mind.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted quietly, your eyes searching Trent’s for guidance. Trent’s expression softened immediately. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before cupping your cheek gently. 

“You don’t have to do anything, yeah? Just stay with me. That’s all.” He smirked. And you wanted to but you were anxious. 

“But Jack…” you trailed off, glancing over at your brother again.

“Jack knows now, baby,” Trent said simply, his tone steady. “It’s okay. He might not love it, but he’s okay with it. I promise. He’s just… adjusting, that’s all. It'll take time.” He explained gently. You nodded, though the knot in your stomach didn’t completely ease.

“It just feels… weird. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.” You admitted. Trent leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. 

“You’re not. And if he’s got a problem, he’ll tell me, not you. Alright?” He whispered. You nodded again, exhaling softly as his words began to settle. “C’mon,” Trent said with a small smile, squeezing your hand still entwined with his. “Let’s go inside. I’ll stay close, yeah?” He attempted to step forward again. You appreciated it, but you just wanted another minute alone with him… actually a few more moments sounded a lot better than one and then as you looked at Trent, his tanned skin glowing under the moonlight in only his swimshorts, an idea popped into your head.  

"T..." you cooed softly, your voice dripping with mischief. Your wide, doe-like eyes tried to feign innocence, but the playful smirk on your lips gave you away instantly. Trent looked down at you, his brow raising slightly as his own lips twitched into a knowing grin. 

"I know that look. What do you need, pretty girl?" he teased, stepping closer until there was no space left between you. His hand found its favorite place of the evening, resting possessively on your ass.

"Do you wanna go swimming with me?" you asked, your voice light and sweet. Trent's smile widened into something blinding, his lips curling up, his eyes squinting as his teeth peeked through. It was a signature Trent full smile-the kind that made your heart flutter every time.

"Yeah," he said without hesitation, his hand giving your ass a squeeze. "I'll do anything with you. C'mon." The night had cooled, the garden lights casting a soft glow over the patio and illuminating the still surface of the pool. You stepped in first, the water biting against your warm skin. You shivered but took another step before diving in fully. Trent followed cautiously, dipping one foot in and immediately tensing.

 "Oh my days, baby. Nah, it's too cold, you know," he said, his voice half-laughing as he stopped dead on the first step.

"C'mon, baby! What happened to anything?" you teased, your voice carrying across the water. You floated toward him, the lights reflecting off your wet skin, making it glisten. Trent looked at you, his cheeks dimpling as his smile turned cheeky. 

"Baby... it's cold as shit," he quipped, his eyes flicking down briefly before meeting yours again. He hadn't moved, and at first, you thought he was just being a wuss. But then his gaze dipped again back down to his shorts, a silent explanation, and then it clicked. Your own cheeks flushed slightly, a soft laugh escaping you. 

"Oh..." you murmured, realization dawning. You waded over to the edge of the pool and climbed out, water cascading off your body in shimmering rivulets. Trent's breath hitched slightly, and he reached out instinctively, his big hands finding your waist.

"Cold water and I’ve got you looking like this? Nah, not fair at all," he muttered under his breath, his fingers trailing over your wet skin. He hummed softly, a sound that vibrated between you, his hands warming your chilled body.

"I would've kept you warm. You should've followed me in," you teased, leaning closer.

"Trust me, I had planned to," he murmured, his eyes tracing the droplets of water running down your collarbone. "But this bikini..." He shook his head in disbelief at the way you looked, his hands sliding down to your hips. "It's too much for me and you’re asking me to get in there?" He looked at you pleadingly. You smirked, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Driving me mad tonight, you know?" Trent let out a dramatic sigh, glancing at the pool and then back at you. 

"Always," you replied, stepping back toward the water with a giggle in an attempt to lure him in this time. He watched you with another shake of his head, his resolve crumbling but he pulled your arm back towards him. Trent smirked, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint as he nodded toward the hot tub, still covered and untouched at the corner of the garden.

"At least give me a fair playing field here, baby," he teasingly pleaded, his lips curling into that devastatingly smug smile that always made your knees weak. You followed his gaze to the hot tub and then back at him, tilting your head. 

"I don't even know how to turn it on... or take that cover off," you admitted with a small pout. It was true-Jack or one of the boys always dealt with it. The mechanics of the thing were completely foreign to you.

"Baby, baby, baby," Trent drawled, his voice dripping with affection as he walked toward the control unit by the edge of the pool. "You act like I haven't been here a hundred times before. C'mon now." You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued but unsure of what he was planning. "Do me a favor and unzip that f'me," he added, nodding toward the zipper of the hot tub cover with a cheeky grin. Your lips parted in mock disbelief at the audacity of his request to ask you to do anything, asking you to put in work, but the look on his face was too irresistible. You rolled your eyes playfully before crouching down by the hot tub, reaching for the zipper. Trent's attention flicked back to you, and he couldn't help but smirk as he caught sight of you squatting there, focused on the task. As you slowly unzipped the cover, Trent turned toward the control unit, flicking a few switches like it was second nature. Over his shoulder, he shot you another cheeky smile. "C'mon, now, lift it up," he called out instructions, laughing softly. You grabbed the edge of the cover with one hand, careful not to damage your nails, and gave it a tug. To your surprise, the weight of it didn't budge, and the resistance yanked you forward slightly, forcing a soft gasp from your lips. You stumbled, catching yourself before you fell completely. Your eyes darted up to Trent, who had turned just in time to see your struggle. His laugh was immediate, low and rich.

"It's heavy, T," you whined, your bottom lip rolling out in a pout as you stepped back from the cover. You weren't even trying to hide the puppy-dog stare you were giving him, the kind you'd mastered over the years. Trent's brow lifted, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. This wasn't new. He knew this game-he'd seen it time and time again, in fact he’d played it time and time again. You could easily lift the cover if you wanted to. You worked out, you were strong enough, but one half-hearted attempt followed by that look always had him crumbling.

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Heavy," he muttered a tease with a dramatic eye roll, his smirk never faltering. "So too heavy for my pretty girl?" he teased, crouching down next to you and brushing a strand of wet hair away from your face. You pouted, your bottom lip jutting out slightly.

"You didn't warn me it weighed a ton." You complained. Trent chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your pouty lips. 

"That's why you've got me, yeah?" He stood back up, grabbing the edge of the cover with one hand. He effortlessly picked up the cover, lifting it with ease and tossing it aside. You watched, amused and a little smug, as the bubbling water beneath came into view.  "Easy," he said, flexing a little just to be cheeky. 

"You're so strong, T," you said with a dramatic swoon, wrapping your arms around his bicep and batting your lashes at him.

"And you're so full of shit," he shot back, his teasing smile breaking into a laugh as he glanced down at you. You giggled, stepping into the hot tub first, the warm water instantly melting away the chill of the night air. You shivered slightly as the steam rose around you, and before you could fully settle, Trent climbed in right after you. His big hands found your waist almost immediately, pulling you back into him. 

"C'mere," he cooed, his voice soft as he shifted you into his lap. "You okay?" You nodded, leaning your head back against his chest, the contrast between the cold night air and the hot water making your body relax completely. "Much nicer, no?" he teased, his cheek brushing against your temple as he smiled down at you.

"Much," you murmured, turning in his lap before your hands sliding over his chest. The slick water ran under your palms, gliding over the hard planes of his pecs. Trent hummed softly, his hands roaming over your hips and thighs beneath the water. His thumbs drew small, lazy circles on your skin, his touch making you feel like the only person in the world. You were now facing him, your eyes meeting his. His gaze was warm and heavy, his smile soft but full of something deeper. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his in a slow, tender kiss that spoke more than words ever could. "Better now?" you asked quietly, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw as you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.

"Always better with you," he murmured, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as he kissed you again, this time with a little more heat. The bubbling water swirled around you, but it was nothing compared to the way Trent made you feel-completely and utterly adored. You straddled Trent's lap, the warm water bubbling around you as you locked eyes with him. His hands moved slowly, deliberately, gliding over your waist and thighs under the water. Every touch sent little sparks through your skin, leaving you completely breathless. "Look so sexy, baby," he whispered, his voice low and rich as his lips pressed against your jaw. He kissed his way to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe and pulling it gently between his teeth. Your breath hitched, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as heat flooded your body. Your hands draped around his shoulders, your fingers tracing slow circles on the back of his neck as you arched into him. Trent's kisses trailed down your neck, lingering on your collarbone before moving lower, his lips leaving a path of fire as he kissed your damp skin. "You were killing me today," he murmured against you, his breath warm and teasing. He pressed his lips just above the curve of your bikini top, his hands sliding up your sides to settle just under your chest. "I really, really hate this," he mumbled, pushing the triangles of fabric aside to reveal your bare skin. "About time you take it off f’me, yeah?" Your heart pounded as his thumbs brushed over your exposed nipples, making you whimper softly. You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you reached behind your neck to untie the top.

"All the way off," you hummed, letting the material fall away and float aimlessly in the bubbling water. Trent's gaze darkened, his eyes locking on your bare chest as his thumbs continued to tease you, his touch light but electrifying.

"Such a good girl," he whispered, his voice a little raspier now. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss that made your toes curl. His hands roamed freely now, his palms sliding up your back and pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless. You moaned softly into his mouth, your fingers threading through his damp curls at the top of his head as the heat between you grew. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word from Trent made the world outside the hot tub melt away, leaving only the two of you lost in each other. He rolled your nipples in his fingers, pinching them ever so slightly now and then to make you squirm.

“T, I want you.” You whimpered, desperate for more of him. Even without Trent touching your pussy, you were completely a mess for him. You didn’t need foreplay tonight.   

“I got you, baby.” He whispered. His voice low, only for you, padded only by the sound of the bubbles. His hand slipped under the water and pulled the string of your bikini bottoms. You were completely naked for him perched on his lap. Trent took his time kissing your neck, making sure you knew how perfect you were with each kiss. He snuck one hand under you. You gasped into his mouth, his kiss muffling the noise. Slightly and subconsciously you began to grind against his hand.

“Please, fuck me.” You begged. It was like when he turned on the hot tub, he turned your switches on along with it. It didn’t take long. A bit of teasing from Trent, your hands eager to get to him and suddenly, you were sinking down on his cock. You gasped as a mixture of pleasure and pain washed over you. Trent was big, and you could feel every inch of him stretching you, claiming you as his own. You moved at a torturously slow rate. You wanted to feel him. Trent’s breath hitched reveling in how you felt around him. He’d never get over it. It was special. It was perfect every time.  You could barely keep your head up with the pleasure and stretch. You dropped your head, laying in the crook of Trent’s neck. You bit down on his sensitive skin with heavy breaths as he filled you to the hilt.

“So good f’me baby. Feel so fucking good. This pussy’s perfect.” Trent babbled, biting on your ear lobe as you began to ride him. You moaned as you created the perfect rhythm, you didn’t have the consciousness for it at the moment, but you were pretty sure any of the boys remotely near the windows inside would’ve been able to hear you two but you wouldn’t have cared. Trent certainly didn’t, it felt too good, your brains fogged by the rising steam in the hot tub and eachother.   

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whined, clenching tighter around him, eliciting a sinful groan from him. Trent was hypnotized by your body as you began to ride him. You shut your eyes tight with your mouth agape as your tits bounced. The sight of you falling a part on him in the water was enough to make him cum. You flashed your eyes up to look at him in desperation. The look in your eyes made Trent tense again. His big hands moved to palm your ass, squeezing it and kneading it beneath the water. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you.

"That's it, take all of me, baby. Doing do good," he grunted, his voice filled with primal desire as his length slid in and out of you. "Fuck! You're so tight around me, baby. I love seeing you like this." Trent’s eyes were lit up completely engrossed at the sight of you, wet, desperate, and drenched in moonlight.  You moaned, your body responding to his. The pleasure was intense, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. The hot water lapped at your bodies, adding a sensual touch to the roughness of his possession. Trent's hands held you firmly, his fingers digging into your ass as he guided your movements, his hips meeting yours half way, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Trent's fingers found your sensitive clit, desperate to push you. He began to rub it in firm circles, his touch successfully sending you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure coursed through you.

"Fuck, fuck! T! I’m cumming.” You whined, with a pout unable to stop your high from crashing over you.  Your body shook as the waves of pleasure consumed you. Trent's thrusts became more urgent, and you knew he was close to his own release. His eyes were wild with passion, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss. As your tongues danced, you could taste the heat of his desire. Trent's kiss was demanding, possessive, and it only added to the intensity of the moment. He broke the kiss, his breath coming in short pants as he stared into your eyes.

“That’s it, I got you, baby,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw need. You caught his lips curve into a soft smile before your eyes fluttered closed. You moaned his name again and again. “Cum for me one more time. Just relax, pretty girl. Cum for me.” His words vibrated against you. You nodded, your heart pounding in anticipation. Trent's dominance and his desire to claim you completely were exactly what you craved. 

“T…” You whimpered. You held onto him tightly, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as you felt his cock twitch inside you. You felt white hot pleasure crashed over you. A symphony of whines flowed out of you with every bounce on his cock as he drew out another orgasm.

”Good girl. Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight.” He grunted torn between not wanting this to stop and the undeniable physical urge to finish. You could only manage another whine, too focused on the slow drag of his cock, you could feel every hard vein and ridge of it slowly fucking into you.

“Please.” It came out as a whisper, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock, the friction of his solid stomach against your clit under the water as you grinded against him. 

“I gotcha, gonna cum, yeah? I’m gonna cum. Fuck, baby. You’re fucking perfect, your pussy’s so perfect for me, made for my cock.” Trent spoke between heaving breaths as his fingers dug into your skin and his head falling into your tits, as he pushed his hips up one last time before he spilled into your tight heat. Trent's body stiffened as you felt his hot cum filling you, his release triggering another wave of pleasure in your sensitive pussy. Trent rolled his eyes at the way you gently moved your hips against his to help him ride out his high.  “Oh my god, Y/N.”  He groaned as you clenched around him. You didn’t want him to pull out yet. You gripped your fingers on his hair and massaged his scalp with your nails, causing Trent to hum in contentment, whilst his hands caressed your back in soothing motions. “My good fucking girl. Hmm? So fucking sexy.” He whispered as he pulled you tight to his chest. 

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, the world outside of the hot tub slipping away entirely; unable to separate, unable to pull your body off his, and Trent unable to let you go either.  Trent’s hands never left your body, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other caressing your thigh under the water. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, feeling safe, warm, and utterly content in his hold. His fingers tracing lazy circles along your skin, grounding you further with each gentle motion.

“I love you,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you so much, pretty girl,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. His voice was low, tender, and filled with a kind of reassurance that made your heart ache. You turned your head slightly, looking up at him. His dark eyes gazed back at you with so much warmth, and you couldn’t help but lean up to capture his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. He hummed against your mouth, a deep sound of contentment that vibrated through your chest. But the moment was shattered by the loud laughter echoing from inside the house, pulling you both back to reality. Your cheeks flushed as you realized how long you’d been wrapped up in each other. You looked at him and he smiled realizing that it was time to go.

“Whoops!” You giggled with a shy smile, grabbing your bikini from the tiling besides the hot tub behind Trent. Trent let out a small chuckle, his thumb brushing against your hip. 

“You sure you want to put that on?” He asked you with a cheeky grin as his chest still rapidly rose and fell, knackered after sex that felt more like a workout. 

“Do you want me to go inside like this?” You raised your brow teasingly as you tied the side of your bikini bottom back on. Trent laughed breathily. He reached out to you and pulled you into him.

“Nah. When you’re like this, you’re just for me.” He whispered, pressing his nose against yours. You nodded hesitantly. A part of you recalled Josh saying those very words, using them to gaslight you, and yet when Trent said it, it felt different. 

“Just for you?” You asked softly and inquisitively, your voice barely above a whisper. You prayed he would be nothing like Josh. When Josh said it, it meant, you only were for him, yet he could still do as he pleased, aka see other girls. Trent's words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. A part of you felt vulnerable asking such a question, afraid of the answer, of what it could mean. Josh's words from the past haunted you, a constant reminder of control disguised as affection. But Trent-he wasn't Josh.

"Yeah, just for me," Trent said firmly, his voice gentle but unwavering. He ran his hands purposefully over your damp skin, tracing the curves of your waist like he was memorizing every inch of you. "This is private—me and you. No one else. No one gets to see you like this but me." His gaze locked onto yours, dark and steady, filled with something raw and unspoken. He paused, his thumbs brushing over your hips as if grounding you. "This body's sacred. And as long as you’re in it,” He smirked hoping you’d maybe crack a smile at a little joke but you were stoic, terrified to trust him. “I'll take care of you. Always." He reminded you. 

"Oh..." you whimpered, your throat tightening as the sincerity of his words wrapped around you like a warm blanket. It wasn't possessive; it wasn't controlling. It was reverence-something you weren't used to but craved deeply. You couldn't help the tear that slipped down your cheek, overwhelmed by the difference. "You mean that?" you asked shakily, needing to hear it again, to be reassured.

"I mean it,' he said, his voice gentle but firm. He cupped your face, his fingers warm against your cheeks. "It's me and you, baby. Just us. I've got you." The sincerity in his eyes made you feel like the safest person in the world. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face into the curve of his shoulder. He pulled you in even closer, his large hands sliding up your back, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. You let out a shaky breath, finally finding the courage to let the moment soothe the part of you that had doubted. 

"Okay," you murmured against his skin.

“And I’m just for you. You’re the only one that gets me, pretty girl. Gets my attention, gets me to lift hot tub covers off, gets me to cuddle during films, gets me to kiss goodnight, you name it. Only you get it. Only you.” He told you earnestly. Your eyes got a bit glossy so Trent paused. He sympathetically smiled at you. “That alright with you?” He asked patiently, knowing this wasn’t easy. 

 "I like it that way. Just us." You weakly told him. Trent pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so you were looking at him again. His thumb brushed against your jaw before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Good. It's not gonna be any other way." He smirked. You nodded, smiling softly. 

"So... bikini on?" you asked with a cheeky grin, breaking the moment's intensity.

"Till I get you in bed, yeah," Trent teased, his lips twitching into that signature smile. His hands moved to your waist again, giving you a playful squeeze. "But just remember-only me, alright? Don't want all the other lads getting jealous." He cooed. You giggled, draping your arms around him tighter, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

"Only you," you promised, letting yourself believe in the love he was offering, trusting in the safety of his words. As you buried your face into Trent’s neck, his arms tightened around you protectively, the heat from the hot tub lingering on your skin. 

“I mean it, you know,” he murmured softly, his breath warm against your temple. “This is our world, just me and you. No one else matters when I have you like this.” He confessed. You let out a shaky breath, your heart swelling at his words. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had this,” you whispered against his neck, your voice trembling slightly. “Someone who just…wants me, for me. I didn’t think I could have this.” You shyly told him. Trent leaned back slightly to look at you, his hands cradling your face. 

“You've always had me. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted, Y/N,” he said earnestly, his deep brown eyes locked onto yours. “You don’t have to be scared, yeah? I’ll never make you feel like you’re not enough. Never. Because you are a fucking dream to me. I want you, every little bit.” He whispered kissing your skin again and again, emphasizing that he wanted every bit. You nodded slowly, your tears threatening to spill again. But this time, they weren’t tears of pain or fear—they were tears of gratitude, of relief. You hadn’t felt this safe in someone’s arms… ever.

“C’mon, pretty girl” Trent whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Let’s get inside before I change my mind about letting you put that bikini back on.” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood, and you couldn’t help but giggle softly, wiping at your eyes.

“Fine, but you’re carrying me, there are always slugs by the pool at night this late,” you teasingly instructed, leaning back into him, your hands lacing around his neck. He rolled his eyes with a little laugh you wished you could bottle and keep forever.

“Yeah, yeah, so it’s the slugs now, huh?” He smiled at you. You rolled your bottom lip pleadingly. “Do whatever you want. I always will,” he said, scooping you up effortlessly in the hot tub. He stood up as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, the cool night air biting at your skin as he stepped out of the hot tub, with you in his arms. He carried you inside, his chest rising and falling steadily against you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed things could actually be okay.

Trent hesitated, his hand lingering on the small of your back as you both quietly slipped into the house. He looked down at you, his brow furrowed slightly, caught in a silent debate.

“Hey, baby. Can I just go grab a water quick? Then I’ll meet you up there,” he murmured softly, his voice gentle but distracted. You tilted your head at him, seeing right through his attempt to sidestep the real issue. 

“You can go ask him, T,” you said quietly, your pout making it impossible for him to avoid your gaze. You were nervous about tonight as well, but you could tell Trent felt like he needed to do things right. That he was walking somehow on an even thinner tightrope. That if there was a misstep, he would feel at fault. It was sweet, you liked knowing he cared but you also felt a bit guilty. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced toward the hallway that led to the cinema, where he knew Jack was still sitting with Noah. He didn’t want to overstep, even if the thought of not being by your side tonight was inconceivable. Even if Jack said no, he knew he was weak for you, that he'd find a way to be with you and that's exactly why he needed to go above board tonight.

“Baby…” he started, his tone unsure. You leaned into him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you looked up at him. Trent was going to stay in your room no matter what, but he also didn’t want to go to bed feeling like a snake either. 

“As long as you are going to come back and sleep with me, T, go. I know you, I know you want to do it right.” You smiled at him sympathetically. “You’re the sweetest, baby.” You cooed softly. “So if it’s bothering you, you can go talk it over with your best friend,” you said softly, stroking your fingers over his back in slow, soothing circles. Trent let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. 

“You know me too well, pretty girl,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I just… I don’t want to be a dick about it, yeah? I know this is all new for him, for everyone.” He unnecessarily explained. You nodded, understanding. 

“He’ll get it. He knows how much you mean to me. How much I love you.” You told him, although you were saying it mostly to convince yourself that Jack would understand. Trent hummed, leaning his forehead against yours for a moment before stepping back. 

“Alright, wait for me upstairs, please. Gotta go tell your brother how much I love you.” He smirked. You smiled, brushing a quick kiss over his lips before turning to head up the stairs.  

Trent made his way into the cinema room, his heart pounding slightly. Jack and Noah were mid-conversation, a half-empty beer in front of each of them. They both looked up as Trent stepped into the room, and Jack raised an eyebrow, already guessing where this was going.

“Alright, mate?” Jack asked, leaning back in his chair, pausing the show on the screen. Trent nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. 

“Yeah, bro…” Trent said softly as he stepped into the dimly lit room. Jack hadn’t gone to bed yet—he couldn’t, he was afraid of what he might hear if he were to go up before you. So to save himself, he sacrificed sleep and instead roped Noah into a marathon of a show he knew he’d stay awake for. They were sitting there, the glow of the now paused screen illuminating their faces. Jack was patient, he had subconsciously hoped this would be Trent’s move tonight, getting his approval, so he waited, but Noah immediately nodded his head, cueing Trent to say something. Trent ran a hand over his face attempting to compose himself after Noah's nudge. “Just wanted to, erm… check in.” Trent spoke vaguely. Noah smirked, taking a sip of his beer and leaning back to watch the exchange unfold.

“Check in?” Jack repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. “She okay?” Jack asked, concern evident in his voice. His thoughts immediately jumped to you—had you gotten upset again? Why was Trent being so weird?

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Trent nodded quickly, easing Jack’s worry. “She’s fine.” But the way Trent shifted nervously on his feet, fidgeting slightly with his hands, didn’t go unnoticed. Jack’s brows furrowed. 

“Are you, bro?” he asked, with a subtle smile. It was soft though, not teasing. Jack was confused by the sudden change in Trent’s demeanor. 

“Uh…” Trent hesitated, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Noah grinned enjoying this. He wasn't sure he had seen Trent this awkward since they were little boys. “No, I guess. I just wanted to, uh, make sure it’s cool with you if I’m in her room tonight.” The words came out awkwardly, and Trent’s usual calm and confident demeanor seemed to falter. He was clearly uneasy, and Jack picked up on it instantly. Jack leaned back in his seat, smirking a little. 

“Trentski, I’m not her dad,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood. Noah laughed. He had comments and jokes at the ready but he could feel Trent’s nerves radiating off him. So he bit his tongue. But when Trent didn’t laugh, Jack realized he wasn’t joking around. He sighed, sitting up straighter. He knew what this was about, he understood it. As much as he didn’t want to be, Jack had been like a parental figure to you in a lot of ways. It wasn’t just about Trent staying in your room—it was about respect, about boundaries, and about making sure this wasn’t going to mess up the delicate balance of their lives. He appreciated Trent for acknowledging it, even if it stayed just under the surface. Jack took a deep breath before speaking again. “Mate, it’s fine. I actually will kill you if I hear anything but… it’s fine. If it’s you, it’s all good. You’ve got her.” Jack explained earnestly, accepting the fate that his best mate would be up in his little sister’s room. At least it was Trent, he tried to rationalize with himself.

“Yeah, just, you know…” Trent trailed off, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Trent nodded once over taking in what Jack had said, visibly relieved but still fidgeting. “Mate, I just didn’t want you to feel like I’ve dropped caring about you or us because I’m with her,” he said earnestly. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you’ve lost me or something.” Trent admitted. Jack paused at that. He hadn’t expected Trent to say something like that, and it hit him harder than he anticipated. He valued that more than he was willing to vocalize tonight so he shoved the unexpected emotion down, taking a swig of his beer to buy himself a second.

“Nah, bro. I appreciate it,” Jack said, his voice genuine. “We’re cool. Like I said, I just don’t want to hear it. Trust me, I know it’s happening.” He forced a laugh, trying to mask how weird it still was for him to think about Trent and you together. Noah chuckled first, Trent quick to follow, his shoulders relaxing a bit more. 

“Thanks, mate. Love you,” he said, leaning down to dap Jack up, their handshake turning into a brief hug.

“All good. Love you, bro,” Jack said, shaking his head as Trent walked out. He stayed seated for a moment longer, staring at the screen but not really watching it. He appreciated Trent coming down to ask—it showed he cared. But still, Jack wasn’t quite sure how he’d survive a whole summer of this, let alone a lifetime without losing his mind. Noah raised his brows with a smug smirk leaning back in his chair suppressing a laugh. Jack heard the stifled chuckle. “Noah, say one fucking thing…” Jack threatened him knowing there were a million teasing remarks at the ready. Noah just raised his hands in innocence with a cheeky giggle thinking the whole thing was quite amusing. 

When Trent opened the door, you were already curled up in bed, propped against a pile of pillows, the glow of your bedside lamp casting a warm light on your features. You smiled up at him as he stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

“All sorted,” he murmured, his voice low as he crossed the room, his eyes softening the moment they landed on you.

“Did you get bestie’s approval?” you teased, your lips curling into a sly grin. You sat up, watching him as he made his way to your bed. “Told you it’d be fine,” you added with a knowing smirk. Trent rolled his eyes playfully, crouching slightly as he rested his hands on the edge of the bed. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his tone laced with fondness. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your hair, the familiar gesture sending a wave of warmth through you.

“I still have to shower….” you murmured, your voice taking on a teasing lilt. Your eyes lit up with faux innocence as you smirked up at him. “But I was waiting for you.” Trent raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into an amused grin. 

“Nah, see, you’re gonna get me in trouble!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Please,” you giggled, reaching out to grab his arms, tugging at him playfully. 

“Ah, yeah, fine, only because you waited for me,” he teased, sarcasm dripping from his words as he let you pull him closer. You flashed him a beaming smile, your laughter filling the room. “C’mon, pretty girl,” he said with a low laugh, bending down to scoop you up into his arms effortlessly. You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you toward the ensuite. His grip on you was secure, his warmth seeping into your skin as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck.

“Shhh, I’m serious, gonna get me in trouble,” he murmured, his lips curled into a smile brushed against your temple.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get into maybe just a little bit of trouble tonight with me, baby?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He chuckled softly, shaking his head, his chest vibrating against yours as he pushed the bathroom door open with his foot. 

“Fucks sake,” he laughed, setting you down gently on the cool tiles. Trent knew he was cooked, he couldn't resist you. He’d spent too many years dreaming of getting invited up, he wasn’t going to waste it now. 

The morning light spilled softly through your curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. You stirred awake to the sound of steady, rhythmic breathing and the comforting weight of Trent’s arm draped around your waist. His chest rose and fell against your cheek, and you could feel the heat of his body pressed into yours. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and let out a quiet sigh. The night before had been so full of emotion, laughter, and a bit of chaos, but here, in the stillness of your room, it was just the two of you. Trent’s presence was grounding, and you found yourself tracing lazy patterns on his forearm with your nails, smiling faintly at how calm he looked in his sleep. You tilted your head slightly, catching a glimpse of his face. His hair was messy and his lips were slightly parted as he slept. He looked peaceful, boyish almost, and it made your heart ache in the best way. The soft movement of your fingers must have stirred him because Trent let out a low hum, his arm tightening around your waist. 

“Mmm… morning, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough from sleep. You smiled at the sound, nuzzling your face against his chest. 

“Morning,” you whispered back, your voice soft and sweet. Trent shifted slightly, pressing his lips to the top of your head in a lazy kiss. 

“How long have you been up?” he asked, his hand slipping under the hem of his shirt you nicked last night after a cheeky shared shower to rest on the warm skin of your stomach.

“Not long,” you replied, your voice still hushed. “Just… thinking.” You cooed.

“Thinking about what, baby?” he asked, his voice curious but gentle as his fingers traced small circles on your skin.

“About how nice this feels,” you admitted shyly, your cheeks warming. Trent chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Excited for breakfast with your bestie?” You hummed with a sleepy soft giggle. 

“Breakfast with you? Yeah, always.” Trent cooed, rubbing his hands up and down your back. His voice was quieter now, more sincere. You shifted slightly in his arms to look at him, his face still relaxed but his brown eyes now focused entirely on you.

“No.” You giggled. “Jack, baby,” you murmured, reminding Trent as your fingers brushing against his jawline. You were teasing him about waking up at your house, with your brother aka his best friend just down the hall. He smiled with a shake of the head, leaning down to kiss your forehead before pulling you closer against him, his legs tangling with yours under the blanket. 

“Eh, not interested, got you.” He whispered, cupping your cheek and tilting your face upwards to kiss your sleepy pouty lips. 

“I’m telling him you said that.” You giggled again teasing him. You began to pretend as if you were going to get out of bed to go tell Jack but he held you down to him playfully.  

“Nah, Nah, can’t do that. Shhh!” He hushed you with a cheeky quiet laugh.  The room filled with soft laughter as you squirmed playfully against Trent’s hold. His deep chuckles vibrated through his chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him despite your faux protests. 

“What, baby?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him, your lips curling into a smirk with a furrowed brow. Trent pulled you roughly tighter into him until your faces were mere inches apart. 

“Shhh, need you to be quiet.” He hushed you with a smile, kissing you, wrapping his arms tighter around you, refusing to let you move. You shook your head in defiance. "My best friend told me he’d kill me if he heard us.”  Trent admitted with a sly grin. He laughed a little seeing your cheeky smile unable to hold it in.  He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight kiss. “So shhh,” he whispered again, his tone playful. You arched a brow, mischief dancing in your eyes. 

“Oh, so you’re worried about noise? I think I remember someone who wasn’t so quiet last night in the shower,” you teased, your voice low but full of cheek. Trent’s ears turned a faint shade of pink as he chuckled, shaking his head.

 “Alright, alright, but that’s on you, not me,” he muttered. Your jaw slacked offended he’d try to place the blame on you. He smiled loving that he knew exactly how to get under your skin. “Hey, pretty girl, you’re the one who makes me feel that good, baby. Not my fault and to be honest, I’d rather face a right hook from Jack than give you up last night.” He smirked with some cheek.

“Hmm,” you hummed sarcastically with a roll of the eyes, acting as if you didn’t believe him. You tried to roll away once more out of his arms.

“Nah, serious!” He yelped playful yet desperate to get you to believe him. Trent’s hands found your waist, his strong grip easily pinning you back down against his chest before you could make your escape. He got closer to you, dropping his forehead to rest against yours. “This fucking pussy has me a complete mess. Do anything to have more of you. I need you, baby.” He whispered, dropping his voice and octave lower as his lips ghosted over yours. 

“Wow.” You giggled at the serious look on his face. “Well maybe I should make sure your old besties know they’ve been replaced, all because you just like getting your dick wet.” You teased, your lips brushing over his as you spoke. Trent kissed his teeth. 

“Nah, c’mere. You know you’re more than that to me.” His big hand came up and grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you into a messy kiss. You pulled away with a stupid grin and a giggle. “You know I love you, just being with you, and seeing that smile.” Trent shot you the most dangerous smile in return. It was conniving and mocking and beautiful. Your heart faltered at how pretty he was but also how much he genuinely care about you. That you weren't just a body to him. Trent giggled before he spoke again. The childish little boy laugh you'd heard your whole life. You raised your brows awaiting his next words because clearly he thought they were funny. “But it also doesn't hurt if I get to have my hands on this perfect body, take all these clothes off, have my lips all over you, be inside that pretty pussy, seeing you whining for me, making you cum over and over… That’s not so bad, little bit more than getting my dick wet, but… If you ever want to let me just get my dick wet, I won’t stop ya.” He smirked smugly. Your eyes widened with faux offense.

“So I should tell them that instead?” You asked teasingly.

“Not a chance, pretty girl,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours as his fingers tickled your sides, earning a squeal from you. You wiggled and giggled against him, completely wrapped in his hold.

“Okay! Okay! T! Stop, I won’t tell them! Baby!!” you finally cried out between laughs, breathless and flushed.

“Good,” Trent said with a satisfied smirk, his hands stilling on your waist. He looked at you for a moment, his smile softening as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “Because I don’t care about them. Just want to be with you.” He confessed. Your laughter quieted as your heart melted at his words. You leaned down, kissing him softly, your fingers tangling in his curls. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, baby,” you murmured against his lips.

“And I’m so lucky you love me, pretty girl,” he whispered back, his voice full of affection, pulling you back down into his arms as the morning sun filtered through your curtains. You hummed as you nestled into him, letting his words and the steady rhythm of his breathing soothe you. For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter—it was just you and Trent, cocooned in the warmth of each other. 

“T!” you squealed, sprinting down the stairs, your laugh echoing through the house as Trent chased after you, his fingers darting out to pinch your side. The silly morning you were having with him, filled with cheeky jokes, and sloppy kisses didn’t stay confined to your bedroom. You hadn't dropped the idea of telling Noah and Jack you'd replaced them as Trent's best friend.

“Baby! Don’t throw me under the bus, hmm?” Trent yelped, catching you at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the ground. You squirmed in his hold, your laughter spilling out as he spun you around like a rag doll. “C’mere, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he pressed kisses to your neck, playfully, his stubble tickling your skin.

In the kitchen, Noah and Jack exchanged looks over their mugs of coffee, the sound of your giggles and Trent’s playful hums breaking the morning’s quiet. Noah’s smirk grew wide, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a comment. Jack, on the other hand, merely shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line. You and Trent attempted to compose yourselves as you entered the kitchen, both of you flushed from laughing. 

“Do you want eggs, baby?” you asked, your voice soft and affectionate, the pet name rolling off your tongue like it was second nature. Noah’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin at the exchange, his eyes flicking between the two of you like he was watching his favorite sitcom. 

“Baby now, huh, Trenty?” he teased under his breath, just loud enough for you all to hear. You ignored him, focusing instead on Trent, who had just walked over to dap up Noah and Jack.

“Yes, please,” he answered, his voice warm and easy as he continued his path around the kitchen island back to move to stand behind you. Trent’s hands found their place on your waist, pulling you close so your back was flush against his chest.  “You know you’re the best, pretty girl?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered. You smiled, leaning into him as his big hands splayed across your stomach, his fingers flexing gently against the fabric of his shirt you were still in. Something definitely not lost on anyone in the kitchen. Jack let out an exaggerated groan, setting his coffee mug down with a thud. 

“This much? Seriously, this early?” Jack asked, watching you and Trent.

“Let them live, Jacky boy,” Noah laughed, leaning back in his chair with a shake of his head enjoying watching Jack squirm. You turned to glance at Jack over your shoulder, an innocent smile gracing your lips. 

“We’re not doing anything, Jack!” you protested, though the way Trent’s lips skimmed the side of your neck as you spoke said otherwise.

“Not doing anything, huh?” Jack shot back, raising an eyebrow nodding at Trent with a teasing grin. “Maybe try keeping your hands to yourselves for five minutes, or giving eachother even an inch of space, yeah?” He gave you a feigned look of disgust watching Trent’s big hands stay on your body, unmoved by his words. Trent chuckled against your skin, his arms tightening around you protectively. 

“Can’t make any promises, mate,” he quipped, kissing the spot just behind your ear as if to prove a point. Jack groaned again, muttering something under his breath about ‘never-ending,’ while Noah just laughed, shaking his head again at the whole ordeal.

“Also, I wouldn’t mind eggs either, just saying…” Noah eventually chirped, leaning back in his chair with a smirk watching you begin to make Trent’s.

“Nah, mate, we’re not ‘baby,’” Jack quipped, piling on the teasing. “I don’t think we’re getting breakfast.” You let out a small giggle, secretly relieved by the playful banter. As long as it wasn’t awkward tension, you could handle the teasing.

“Tough work, mate, getting ‘baby’ status,” Trent shot back, his lips quirking into a smug grin. “I won’t lie, but the perks… let me tell you...” He cheekily left the statement open ended as he kissed your temple for emphasis before turning back to Jack and Noah with a look. Noah caught the tone and immediately smirked, reading between the lines. 

“Ah, yeah, we know the perks, don’t we, Jack?” Noah chuckled. Jack made an exaggerated, grossed-out face, covering his eyes. 

“Don’t even start, mate. No one needs that mental image.” He scoffed with a teasing smile knowing that joking was the only way this would ever be normal. Joking was a fundamental part of their friendship, and with their friendship and you, humor was a lifeline.  

“Nah, hold on,” Trent laughed, waving his hands defensively. “That’s not what I meant—just breakfast!” He attempted to defend himself. Like second nature, you opted not to help him out, you chimed in with a cheeky grin.

“I know, comes with taking that number one best friend spot too, huh?” You giggled. Trent’s jaw dropped at your betrayal, his hands quick to come playfully squeeze your sides, dragging you into him.

“Nah, can’t believe you just sold me out like that!” He yelped, wrapping his arms around you so tightly, you couldn’t even struggle. “Baby!” He pleaded, annoyed you just did that in front of his best mates. Jack and Noah burst into laughter seeing Trent get called out for being a simp. Years of friendship be damned, it was always great to see Trent whine about a joke.

“Wow, bro! Took you one movie night to drop Noah and I? You fucking piece of shit! ” Jack said through his cackles. Even you couldn’t help giggling, your face tucked into Trent’s chest as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Awh, Trenty,” Noah teased, clearly enjoying himself. “Even your girl’s selling you out, bro. That’s tough.” He mocked him.  Trent let out an exaggerated groan but couldn’t hide the smile on his face. 

“Alright, alright, fuck off. Come on, lads. It’s different.” He smiled shyly realizing you were in fact his best friend, he just didn’t want to get into the semantics of what made you a different kind of best friend compared to the two boys. Noah and Jack rolled their eyes in unison continuing to torment Trent. “Whatever, don't need you lot anyway.” He puffed out air squeezing you tighter. “I’ll just keep my perks and my eggs to myself.” He smirked. You turned to kiss his cheek in consolation, with a hum of agreement. “Absolute snake,” Trent whispered in your ear, pulling you closer as you giggled.

Noah and Jack continued to tease Trent relentlessly, their laughter echoing through the kitchen as Trent tried to defend himself in vain. Finally, you slid three plates of eggs over to the boys, their teasing momentarily pausing as they eyed their breakfast.

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, mockingly holding up his hands in surrender as he took a bite. “At least ‘baby’ knows how to cook up.”

“Can’t say the same for you,” Noah added with a smirk, earning a glare from Jack. Ignoring them, you came around the counter, wrapping your arms around Trent from behind. He immediately leaned back into your embrace, his warm smile easing any guilt you might’ve felt for teasing him earlier.

“I’m sorry, baby. I love you,” you whispered softly into his ear before pressing a kiss just below it. Trent turned his head slightly, catching your gaze with that signature cheeky glint in his eye. 

“Nah, don’t be,” he replied casually, his voice at a normal volume so everyone could hear. “You are my best friend.” He smirked, awaiting Jack and Noah’s inevitable response. They instantly looked offended, their reactions in perfect synchronization as they both dropped their forks.

“Excuse me, bro?!” Jack snapped, with a laugh, feeling like this actually could be okay, that this could work if you and Trent were so light hearted about it all, so welcoming of the teasing. 

“I thought we were kidding. Fuck you!” Noah chimed in, looking dramatically betrayed. Trent couldn’t hold back his laugh, his grin smug and playful as he leaned forward to take a bite of his eggs.

“What? Just being honest,” he muffled out words with his mouth full, savoring the moment of turning the tables on them. You couldn’t help but giggle at the chaos, leaning down to kiss his cheek again. 

“Baby… Stop stirring the pot,” you whispered. 

“Nah, they deserve it.” He smirked, taking another bite of food. “Mmm, so good, pretty girl. This is why you're my best friend. Thank you,” Trent hummed contentedly, turning his head to kiss your lips this time. The kiss was quick, sweet, but enough to make Noah groan and Jack roll his eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Jack muttered, picking up his fork again. “Gross. But also, true, eggs are good Y/N. Thank you.” Jack would tease you but he was sure to never take you for granted. You smiled and grabbed your own plate, finally taking a seat next to Trent.

“Yeah, eggs are boss, Y/N. Thank you.” Noah added as you all continued to eat your breakfast. “So, was thinking a little last night….” Noah began with a mischievous smile. “Just curious does anyone know how you clean a hot tub? What do you do... You know if it gets dirty.” He smirked, taking a big bite of eggs, stuffing his mouth full. Your jaw slacked a little. Jack snapped his head towards you, turning to face you with a disapproving look. Trent kicked the leg of Noah’s seat in retaliation, causing him to stumble and choke a little on his food. There was no real harm though, and that was clear the moment Noah finally swallowed his eggs and fell into a loud laugh. “Gonna be a good summer, lads!” He grinned triumphantly knowing his bit landed; Jack having to accept his fate, Trent being knocked down a peg, and you reminded someone was always watching. As the boys continued their banter, your gaze flickered between them and Trent, his hand caressing on your thigh under the counter top. This was it. The teasing, the laughter, the love—it all felt right. This was your new normal, and you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The gym hummed with low energy, a mix of clinking weights and faint music filtering through the speakers. It wasn’t overly crowded, just a few people scattered around, focused on their routines. Devon stood by a bench, leaning against it with a towel draped over his shoulders. His mind wasn’t on his workout anymore; it hadn’t been since he’d walked in and seen Josh.

He watched as Josh stood at the weight rack, effortlessly curling dumbbells, his expression smug and self-satisfied as usual. Devon felt a wave of discomfort wash over him. He’d always thought Josh was cocky, maybe a bit of a prick, but this? The things Layla had told him—the video, the way Josh talked about you—it was so much worse than he could have imagined. Devon hesitated, fiddling with the towel in his hands as he debated whether to approach. Confronting Josh wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do, but it was becoming harder to ignore the nagging voice in his head. This isn’t right. Someone has to say something. Taking a deep breath, he finally pushed off the bench and made his way over.

“Hey, mate,” Devon said, his voice casual but tight as he came to stand near Josh. Josh glanced over, setting the dumbbells down with a clang. 

“Yo, bro. You good?” he asked, his tone easy but laced with confusion. Devon shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the gym before finally speaking. 

“Erm… So you and Y/N—what’s the deal there?” Devon asked haphazardly trying to figure out what was going. Josh raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“What do you mean, ‘what’s the deal’? She’s mine. Simple.” The casual possessiveness in his tone made Devon’s stomach churn. He tried to keep his composure, but his jaw tightened. 

“Mate, you can’t really believe that, yeah? She’s not… yours. She’s moved on.” Josh’s smirk faltered slightly, his expression darkening. 

“Fuck off, Dev. What’s up with you?” He questioned. Devon hesitated, but he knew there was no turning back now. 

“No, serious, bro” Devon tone was bordering on pleading. “It’s just cause, the video you have of her… It’s not… you know…” Devon mumbled, not really able to formulate a compelling argument detailing how morally wrong it was. 

“Dev, bro… She’s a whore, things like that, of girls like that, are meant to be shared, yeah?” He explained with a smirk as if that was the most normal thing in the world. Devon’s stomach flipped. He knew Josh was kind of an ass, but they were teammates, they had fun together but this had gone too far. 

“Bro, it’s not cool, you know. Can’t hold that shit over people, it obviously wasn’t for you.” Devon snipped and it struck a nerve. 

“No, it was for me.” Josh stood up with force. “She’s mine, that piece of shit, Alexander-Arnold can’t have her. She’s a whore. So I’ll use that video to get her doing what she does best, to come back, and take Trent down in the process. Easy. Fuck them, bro.” Josh explained seriously. He truly believe this was sound logic.

“Nah, mate. There just isn’t an excuse for it. None of that is true and even if…” Devon stuttered, not sure if he could convince Josh but he’d try. “Bro, even if she was a whore or whatever you want to think, it doesn’t make it okay to do this type of shit.” Devon didn’t defend Trent, he didn’t really know him at the end of the day, but the thought of Layla crying was something he felt inclined to fix. He was just trying to get Josh to see how outlandish what he was saying was. 

“Dev, who the fuck do you think you are telling me what to do with that whore of all people… Fuck Alexander-Arnold.” Josh snapped looking at Devon with daggers in his eyes. “You need to relax. Get laid or something.” He quipped shoving down any thought that Devon could have a point.  

“Bro they’re in a relationship!” Devon yelped. “That’s his girlfriend. It’s just time you let that one lie. Plenty of girls elsewhere. Come on.” Devon begged. Josh froze, his grip tightening on the towel in his hand. 

“What.” Josh bit furiously. 

“What? I’m just saying. That it’s one thing to play dirty and try to get a girl but she has a boyfriend. It wasn’t a video meant for you… Just.” Devon sighed. “Just let it go.”  He looked at Josh pleadingly.

“Boyfriend?” Josh asked.  “You’re not serious…He’s her boyfriend?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. Devon nodded slowly. 

“Yeah, mate. It’s serious. Her mate Layla…” Devon began to cite Layla as a source but Josh cut himoff. 

“Oh I see. Y/N having everyone do her dirty work again.” He said with a cocky grin and cynical laugh.

“Bro, stop. Come on, just time to move on from that one. They’re in love or some shit.” Devon sheepishly but surely explained. Josh let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. 

“Love? Trent doesn’t love her. He doesn’t even know her. She’s a whore, mate. Girls like her don’t get love—they get what I give them.” The words hit Devon like a punch to the gut. His face hardened, and he clenched his fists at his sides. 

“Aye, bro.” Devon cautioned Josh, starting to get pissed off. “I get it, you like to have that dom shit going with girls but you can’t talk about girls like that. You don’t get to talk about someone like that,” he said sharply, his voice rising. Josh scoffed, stepping closer to Devon. 

“Don’t start preaching to me, Dev. You’ve had your fun with Layla, yeah? Stay in your lane. This isn’t your business. Maybe you need to fuck her again, loosen up.” Josh spit back. 

“Mate, this is my business,” Devon shot back. “That video? That’s extortion. It’s disgusting. And you’re holding it over them like some sick game.” Josh’s eyes narrowed, and his smirk returned, more sinister than ever. 

“She’s mine. She’ll come back to me, and Trent? He’s done. Local lad, big dreams? Whatever the fuck his whole brand is. Bullshit and I’ll burn it down with this. Just stay the fuck out of it.” Josh explained simply. Devon shook his head, his voice dripping with disgust. 

“You’re fucking tapped, mate! This isn’t about her coming back to you. You gotta accept she with a lad who does beat the shit out of her.” Devon bit back and Josh’s smirk faltered for a moment, he was pissed. Josh quickly recovered though, stepping even closer. 

“Keep talking, Dev, and you’ll regret it. I always win. Always.” Devon held his ground, refusing to back down. 

“Nah, mate. Not this time. You’ve already lost. This has nothing to do with anything other than just being a good person. This isn't something you can win. Just delete the video. Let her go.” Devon begged Josh once over hoping maybe he’d have a revelation.  Josh let out a humorless laugh before turning on his heel and walking away. The tension in the gym was palpable as Devon stood rooted in place, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Josh’s words reverberated through his mind, each syllable dripping with venom and delusion. Devon stared at his own reflection in the mirror, trying to process what he’d just heard. He had always known Josh could be a bit of an dick—a cocky, arrogant type who liked to push boundaries. But this? This wasn’t just crossing a line; it was obliterating it.

Josh had walked off, smug and confident, leaving Devon standing alone at the weight rack, his stomach churning. He had never felt so conflicted. A part of him wanted to brush it off, to stay out of it like Josh had demanded. But the other part—the part that had spent time with Layla, the part that imagined if he was the one in Trent’s shoes—couldn’t ignore how completely messed up the situation had become. Josh’s insistence that he ‘owned’ you made Devon sick. The way he spat your name, the way he dismissed Trent and twisted everything into his own warped narrative—it was beyond disgusting. Devon let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in the middle of this mess, but he knew one thing: Josh wasn’t going to let it go. And now, with Josh fully aware that you and Trent were in a serious relationship, Devon knew things were only going to escalate. He grabbed a towel off the bench, his mind racing. He couldn’t go back to pretending this wasn’t happening. Not anymore. He wondered if he should talk to Layla— If Josh was planning something, you and Trent deserved a heads up.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 26 xx

[nelle-y]

A love story told through voicelines (V)

C/W: slow-burn, Diluc x gn!reader, reader works at the flower shop in Mondstadt, fluff, shorter than the rest but that’s because it’s the end

Note: The story comes to a close! Thank you all so much for your support, I couldn’t have done it without you guys🫶🏻 If you have some ideas for other fics, feel free to leave a request in my inbox! (Part 1) (Part 4)

(You) About Diluc: Reflections

I’ve been thinking a lot about our fight. I don’t know if it was the heat of the moment or my own pride, but I said things I shouldn’t have. I called him stubborn, like his concern for me was some kind of flaw. He didn’t deserve that!

But when he called me reckless… it stung. I wanted to defend myself, to tell him I could handle it, but deep down, I knew he was right. I was reckless. I got hurt because I wasn’t careful, and instead of thanking him for worrying about me, I threw it back in his face.

I know he was just trying to protect me. That’s who he is—he takes on the weight of the world, and I made it even heavier with my words. I was so caught up in proving I didn’t need him hovering over me that I forgot how much he cares.

If I could go back, I’d say something different. Or maybe… I’d just listen. He didn’t deserve my anger. He deserved better.

(Diluc) About you: Reflections

My thoughts are quite repetitive when it comes to them, and maybe that’s how I drove them away—by caring more about their safety instead of them. I didn’t mean to hurt them, but seeing the scar on their arm reminds me of how much I could lose with one careless act. It was unbearable. And I let that fear dictate my words.

I know I can be overbearing. They’ve told me before that I control too much, and that I was… incredibly stubborn. Maybe they’re right. I wanted to protect them, but I didn’t stop to think about how they felt, what they needed from me in that moment. I acted as if I knew best, and in doing so, I ignored the trust we’ve built.

If I could go back, I’d handle it differently. I’d find the right words, words that wouldn’t hurt them. But now… all I can do is hope I haven’t broken something I can’t repair.

(You) About work

I’ve been trying to get back into the rhythm of working at Flora’s shop, but… it feels strange. The flowers are the same, the customers are the same, but something feels off. Maybe it’s me. Or maybe it’s the weight of everything that happened at the manor. I keep catching myself glancing toward the road leading to Angel’s Share, wondering if he’s okay, or if… he even cares.

*sigh* I need to focus. These asters aren’t going to arrange themselves.

(Diluc) About you: From afar

I passed by Flora’s shop today, and I saw them working as usual, but… quieter. Seeing them brought it all back—those quiet moments at the winery, their laughter, the way they always managed to surprise me. It’s unbearable, how much I miss them.

I almost stepped in, but quickly retreated. What would I even say? “I’m sorry”? Would that even matter by now? I’m sure they’re mad at me—maybe furious. And I’m sure… if I could change anything, I would change even the night I resigned from my position as Cavalry Captain if it meant bringing them back.

(You) About Diluc: Finally aware

I saw him today, you know. Well, not saw as in meet with—he just passed by. He didn’t come in; though strangely, I took a step in his direction. Out of habit, I suppose. I don’t think he noticed me… and why would he? After everything… Ugh! Why am I still dwelling on it? It’s not like I’m waiting for him or anything.

He’s just so… stuck. In my mind. I keep hoping to see him, even just for a moment. I miss eating with him, and trying to make him laugh. I miss the flowers that we took care of in the winery. I miss Adelinde.

I miss him…

And it’s infuriating, because I was the one who left. I needed space. I chose to leave the winery because it felt like too much. So why? Why does he linger like this? Why does every passing memory of him feel so sharp, so close, like it was yesterday?

I don’t know what this is. I thought leaving would bring me peace, but it’s only made me realize how deeply he’s rooted in me. I don’t know if I can ever let him go, even if I should.

…Could it be? Could this feeling—this aching pull—be love?

No… not could. It is. I love him.

(Diluc) About you: Finally aware

I need your thoughts on something. It’s… rather personal. For some time now, I’ve found myself increasingly distracted by them—always thinking about their safety, their well-being, even their smallest habits. Every little thing they do seems to pull at my attention. At first, I dismissed it as concern, but it’s different—stronger.

When I spoke to Adelinde about it, she said it sounded like love. Love. I… I don’t know what to make of that. But the more I think about it, the more everything starts to make sense—why I can’t stand the thought of them being hurt, why their smile lingers in my mind long after they’re gone.

I’ve even gone as far as to read about it in novels from Inazuma, though I’ll admit most of them are overly dramatic. Still… I couldn’t help but see myself in the pages. And now I can’t ignore it anymore.

This is love, isn’t it? I can’t believe it took me so long to realize. But… it’s oddly comforting, too, to finally understand why I feel this way. It all feels clearer now.

… I can’t let it end like this. I’ll speak to them, no matter what it takes.

(You and Diluc) Character story: Confessions

The day was drawing to a close, and the horizon burned with hues of amber and crimson as the sun dipped below the mountains. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

They didn’t know why they were running—only that their feet carried them forward. Wind gracing their hair, tugging at their clothes, and each breath coming quick and sharp with the patter of their feet. Were they running to the winery? They haven’t really thought about it. They were just chasing the closest thing that felt like home.

Inside the manor, Diluc sat at his desk, quill hovering over an unfinished report. He’d been staring at the same sentence for far too long, his mind elsewhere. His eyes kept straying to the lamp grass resting in a small vase—“For when nights are long, and the weight feels heavy—may these remind you that you’re not alone.”

In a breath, the quill laid flat on his desk, ink leaving a stain that may or may not come off. He didn’t care, though—he had other business to attend to. One that could change his life, for better or for worse.

As he ran, he thought of what to say. He’d gone over the words a dozen times in his head, but nothing ever seemed quite right. Every thought felt too small, too simple to convey the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

The crimson sky had turned to blue, stars slowly forming like the constellations they once had. They both remembered that night—their head on his shoulder with only nature to accompany them, silent, and sanctified.

The moon hung low in the sky by the time they crossed paths on the dirt road. Neither had planned for this exact moment, yet it felt inevitable, as if fate itself had intervened.

They stopped a few paces apart, both breathless—Diluc from his hurried strides, and them from their sprint. For a moment, neither spoke. The quiet hum of the wind wrapped around them, heavy with all the words they hadn’t yet said.

“I…” they muttered, but their voice caught. After a breath or two, they spoke again: “I didn’t think I’d run into you.”

“I could say the same.” Diluc’s eyes softened as the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Though… perhaps I hoped for it.”

Their breath hitched at his words, and they looked away, unsure of what to say. They hadn’t expected this—hadn’t pictured him to be so calm, so open. The reality of seeing him here, in the flesh, was almost overwhelming.

“I don’t even know why I came,” they confessed, voice trembling. “I just… I missed—“ they hesitated admitting they missed him. It terrified them—how one word could strip away everything they’d worked so hard to hide, yet hold the power to give them everything they wanted.

They swallowed hard, the silence between them growing heavier, and tried again. “I missed… the winery. Adelinde. The flowers. The peace of it all.”

But the lie tasted bitter, and they knew he saw through it. Diluc waited, silent and patient, as though he knew the truth would come, in time.

“I missed you,” they finally whispered, their voice breaking. The confession escaped before they could stop it, leaving them vulnerable and exposed. Their heart raced, the fear of rejection and relief of honesty crashing into each other.

“I’m sorry…” they added, one reckless word after the other. “For being so careless, for not understanding that you were only trying to protect me—for everything.

“I thought I did the right thing, leaving the manor. I told myself I needed space. But since then, all I can think about was you. I couldn’t stop looking forward to our lunch dates, to the moments you’d pass by the flower shop, to even catching a glimpse of that slight smirk of yours.

“And it’s all so infuriating,” they continued, voice gaining strength, yet still trembling with frustration and longing. “Because I look at you with that unreadable expression of yours, and it’s like you don’t care. You’re always so calm, so distant, like nothing ever fazes you. It’s maddening!

“Even when we were together, it was the same. You always tried to shoulder everything alone, hiding behind that stoic exterior. I could never tell if you were trying to protect me or push me away. And now…” Their voice wavered, and they dropped their gaze, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions spilling out. “Now, I don’t even know if you missed me at all. Or if I was just someone you had to look after.”

They hadn’t noticed how Diluc closed the gap between them until they felt a gloved hand caress their hair. “I cared.” They looked up at him with a somber expression. “More than I should. And I still do.” Diluc’s eyes had changed. The unreadable mask they had always found so frustrating had slipped, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

“I tried to convince myself it was better this way,” he continued, his voice low but steady. “That keeping my distance would protect you—from the burdens I carry, and the dangers that follow me. And though I wasn’t completely wrong,” he put attention to your scarred arm. “Pushing you away felt worse. For both of us.”

He hesitated, his thumb brushing against their cheek as if grounding himself. “You were never just someone I had to look after. You are… everything I’ve been too afraid to lose. I thought keeping my feelings buried would keep you safe, but all it did was drive you away.”

His voice softened further, but the intensity of his words only grew. “I can’t bury it anymore. I won’t.”

Their breath hitched, tears pooling in their eyes as he stepped closer, his other hand reaching to gently hold theirs. His grip was firm, steady, and yet full of care—just like him.

“You have undone me completely,” he said, his voice shaking with the weight of his emotions, “and I have no desire to be put back together.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and profound, and the sincerity in his eyes left no room for doubt. In that moment, the barriers between them shattered, replaced by a warmth that enveloped them both.

Tears slipped down their cheeks, but they smiled through them, their heart full for the first time in what felt like forever. “I’ve been undone, too,” they whispered, fragile yet filled with hope. “And I don’t want to be whole without you.”

The stars above, as well as the wind, bore witness as they stood there, hands entwined, finally allowing their hearts to speak what had been unsaid for far too long.

—end—

[pipedreamprayer]

There's some really good points in the comments and reblogs of this post about how the quest is establishing Jingliu as a manipulator, but while I agree that it 100% is showing us that she's twisting things, it's not presented clearly enough that she's an outright unreliable source of information considering this is one of the few voiced quests in the game. It's something people will sit up and listen to, and if they've not dug into the harder to find lore already the audience is primed to come away from this taking her words at face value

She's never fact checked or called out for, say, only having arrived st the end of the Sedition which should be a mnown fact, and gets treated with too much sympathy by the writers, the tone set up like a tragedy she was unable to prevent until the thing with Blade, and even then nobody really shows anger at her for what she did to him? I get that his respect to her is a sign of just how fucked up what she did was, but Jing Yuan and Dan Heng seem to stop being characters a certain points, like they exist for certain interactions the writers wanted but aside from that they just needed somebody to be there for Jingliu to talk at. Why don't we get more of what they think of what she said? What she did? This was the opportunity to have Jing Yuan talk about his views of the Sedition openly, and for Dan Heng to ask questions that must have haunted him his whole life, and for Blade to question even for a moment why he had become the weapon of Jinglius revenge instead of his own.

It's just...handled super strangely, you know? In many ways it feels like the quest is written to trick us into believing Jingliu, from how she wasn't treated like an outright antagonist through her interaction with Yanqing in the quest that introduced her, to the way she keeps being set up to have insight that nobody else does like how she tells Dan Heng that he's notna reincarnation and then the game happens to prove her right immediately by having Dan Heng recall a name he shouldn't have known.

But then everything with Blade is right at the end is clearly horrendous and blatantly her fault, her active choice to be cruel and to not even see anything wrong with it, and it undercuts the tone of "listen to her" that the entire rest of the quest seemed to be pushing us towards. And then, instead of the characters feeling as jarred as the audience is, the quest just...ends? Jing Yuan may have brought up that she's got an agenda, but nobody is shown to act on the possibility that she's lying through her teeth, nobody asks for proof or talks among themselves about why she might have chosen to tell them this if she's gunning for an agenda to do with killing Yaoshi, they all just seem to be accepting this current state of things!

TLDR OP is right that this quest is teaching false information about the Sedition to players. If the writers intended the quest to be a lesson in not trusting Jingliu they did a bad job of it! And if they didn't intend that and have a plan to trick us, why is the proof that she's a completely unreliable narrator so easy to find if you go looking at all? Players who trust that the game will provide what's necessary to know for main quests in main quests will be taking her at face value, and those who want to understand more are just left confused by the disparity!!

I am a huge high cloud quintet enjoyer so it may surprise you to learn that I absolutely hate the quest “Clouds Leave No Trace”.

let me explain. I will admit that a lot of it stems from my issues with Jingliu as a character. I appreciate that she’s meant to be cold and detached, but what bothers me is that although she says considers herself to be a sinner alongside Yingxing and Dan Feng, she constantly acts like she’s better than them, criticising them, acting as if their choice was an easy one while hers wasn’t. Her humility feels incredibly insincere, and she becomes very difficult to empathise with as a result.

then there’s the quest itself. I split it into three parts.

one: redundant infodumping

For the first part of the quest, Jingliu, Dan Heng and Yanqing travel to different parts of the Luofu so Jingliu can bid farewell to her past home. It’s basically a plot device for her to drop some lore about Yingxing and Baiheng, which is fine on its own, but the problem is, none of the information she gives is new. All of it was stuff we could already figure out from character stories and other in-game text.

the second issue with this part of the quest is Dan Heng’s presence, or rather, lack of it. Considering he’s the main character tying the quintet subplot into the main story, you’d think he’d be important to the quest focussed on them. But he’s just… there. He says and does pretty much nothing. You could cut him from the whole quest and it wouldn’t be any different.

In fact, Dan Heng also suffers greatly from the timing of the quest. If we look at the voice lines for IL, it’s obvious that he’s a snapshot of Dan Heng shortly after this quest, since he knows Blade is the one who made Cloudpiercer. Ichor Of Two Dragons also seems to take place at the end of this quest. This is an issue because both release in version 1.3, making the quest which takes place in version 1.4 feel like a regression in his character development when actually the story was for some reason out of order.

part 2: Dan Feng gets mischaracterised to hell and back

This is the worst part of the quest by far. Jingliu does her self-righteous monologue and nails the coffin shut by giving the most biased description possible of the Sedition.

she first says that Dan Feng was trying to revive Baiheng. Dan Heng’s and Jingliu’s character stories reveal that this is probably not the case, and that his actual goal was to create another high elder,

she also says that the reason Dan Feng did what he did was selfishness and an inability to accept Baiheng’s death. She fails to mention the fact that the Xianzhou treated him like a convenient weapon instead of an actual person, that he hated how many innocent people died in the war between Aeons, that his people were going extinct because of said war, that he hated how he gave the Xianzhou the power to cause so much death, that he had probably attempted less dramatic rebellions in his past lives to no avail, that the high elder succession was incredibly screwed up and he didn’t want to have to pass that burden on to his next incarnation (granted that lasts part’s only implicit). Not to mention that she didn’t actually bear witness to any of the events she described, only the aftermath.

part 3: Blade monologue

This is the only redeeming quality of the entire quest

he acknowledges that Dan Feng and Yingxing weren’t simply upset with Baiheng’s death, but with the unfairness of everything in general

he expresses genuine regret

and the way he looks up to Jingliu after she tortured him is the only time where that story genuinely presents her as someone who’s done terrible things, showing how she managed to break Blade so badly that he feels thankful for it

in conclusion, do not play this quest if you want to actually understand Dan Feng as a character