#gotta keep my followers fed

[answer2jeff]

when it rolls in like thunder:

chapter 1.5 — anyone else but you.

DISCLAIMER: half chapters are much shorter and used as wholesome, or not ;), fillers for the series! they're essentially palate cleansers so you can be emotionally prepared for more angst + hurt/comfort in the full chapters. however, you won't need to read these half chapters to understand context in full ones.

husband!carmy x hispanic!wife!reader

teaser. chapter 1. next chapter.

warnings : reader occasionally speaks some Spanish that Carmen hasn't picked up on. he thinks it's endearing. nothing else really. just very fluffy and touching. just good ol' sappy carmen and his wife going out for the day before the honeymoon!

authors note : this series is not doing well and it's kinda killing me inside but that's okay! just for funzies. also, the end is mostly dialogue. got a little lazy. sorry!

word count : 3k (not as short as i thought it would be ngl..)

highly recommend listening to the series playlist.

song(s) for this chapter : anyone else but you, & everyone adores you (at least i do)

"14.56? You're kidding me!"

Your eyes scan over the rainbow assortment of fresh, boxed fruit, the overpriced strawberries immediately grasping your attention. But not necessarily in a good way. Neither you or Carmen can totally remember who's idea it was to walk to the farmers market in this dry heat. It's not like you don't enjoy long walks, but it comes with cons. Pollen irritates your nose and the wind always messes up your hair.

You tug at Carmen's shirt, which, for once, isn't a tight-fitting pure cotton tee. It almost looks a little big on him, the sleeves rolled and cuffed perfectly so they still hug his arms. It's collared too. That ring on his finger makes your knees weak. He smells like the cologne he used to snag from Mikey's bathroom as a teenager. Richie got him his own bottle for Christmas the year after his passing and he's been wearing a spray or two on his neck and the insides of his wrists every 'special occasion' ever since.

And a hint of cigarette smoke. But you like it.

You always have.

He looks good. Fresh. Clean. Yours.

"Wow. I mean—" Carmen lets out a breathy chuckle that isn't quite loud enough to be a laugh, "it's a massive box. And it's strawberry season: May."

Still, despite his persuasive tone and the big hand that sits in the back pocket of your jean shorts as he stands beside you, it's not enough to convince you it's reasonable.

"But—"

"And we're at a farmers market, like, 10 minutes away from our place. Convenience costs money, baby."

Carmen peers down at you, retracting his hand from your rear and teasingly pushing your head into his shoulder. You pout. You don't want him to be right. The dramatics are fun.

"Pero, que es eso? Quieren que yo pago casi quince dólares para unos pinche fresas?" You throw your hands up, directly pointing to the tempting, fresh, and beautifully red fruit.

Carmen only nods. Even after 2 years of accidentally eavesdropping on your conversations, filled with the Spanish slang and sometimes vulgar language you've been using your whole life, he still hasn't quite learned much. Most of the time, he's too anxious to ask you what you're saying. He worries it'll make you stop doing it in front of him.

Until he comes to Tina, desperately. She'll ask him for the details but he can only remember bits and pieces of your one-sided conversations with him. She laughs for a moment or makes her eyes go theatrically wide just to fuck with his head. But eventually, she tells him the truth.

You only know this because Tina immediately started cracking jokes after she spent 15 minutes crying over your engagement, and then another 25 over your official elopement. 'Sacaste con un puré, gringo, mi vida! He needs patience!' she'd say to you whenever Carmen did the most minuscule thing that not-so-accidentally set you off.

"Mi amor," you turn to him, pinching your fingers and widening your eyes to make sure he's really paying attention, even if he doesn't understand you, "podemos comprar la misma cosa en Walmart, or algo así!"

The look in his eyes suggests that he didn't catch most of that. The only words he picked up were "mi amor" and "Walmart," obviously. He just assumes you're continuing your pointless bicker. But he doesn't have the heart, or even the want, to stop you.

He does love the way your nicknames for him roll off of your tongue. It warms something in him. Almost as if he believes your words capture your feelings and fully encapsulates him better than boring English ever does. They're smooth and they stick to his brain hours, or even days after they're spoken to him. In fact, he's been pretending he didn't faintly hear you whisper into his curls as he drifted off to sleep 'te amo con todo mi alma' last night, all fucking morning. It's the only full sentence you've ever spoken to him that he's been able to engrave into his memory.

"Uh-huh," he chuckles as he nods his head slowly, his dimples cinching in near the corners of his mouth. His skin looks a little tanner and brighter than usual. The veins in his eyelids are nearly invisible now, and the little moles that are scattered around his face and body are so much darker now. You thank the spring, nearly reaching the tips of summer, sun for bringing some life back to him. But you're not done complaining. So, you try not to smile in awe of your husband.

"Ó sea, que, are they gonna make me grow a magical straw-baby?"

"What, like—like how people say you'll grow a watermelon in your stomach if you swallow a seed?"

"Yeah! Like that!"

"I don't know, peach. Maybe?"

"It's not worth finding out."

"Yeah. Definitely not."

Despite this, you guys buy the damn strawberries.

You continue walking through the market and stopping at every other intricate little selection of produce, picking up ingredients for tonight's, tomorrow's, and the next day's dinner. You're still snacking on the overpriced strawberries, the entire carton in hand. Carmen occasionally lets you pop one in his mouth. He contently bites right before the stem and swallows. They're perfectly ripe, sweet, and juicy. And unfortunately a tad bit sticky. In the end, they're worth the aggressive price tag.

Finally, you stop in your tracks at a flower stand. Bouquets tied together with white ribbonYou're immediately drawn to the vibrant red of the roses and the pure, angelic white of the mums. Oh god, and you're convinced the baby's breath tucked in neatly between each gap that couldn't be closed by blooming petals could remedy the need for plant life in your living room. The fantasy makes you feel like you just can't leave without taking some of these gorgeous flowers with you.

"Mm—" you point, your mouth full of mushy strawberries, "those look really nice."

For a moment, Carmen hesitates. Those flowers will shrivel. They will lose their once attractive and captivating saturation of color. He's not even sure if they'll last more than 72 hours, given how bloomed the petals are. But you still have those clay vases from your engagement party. And he still loves to make you happy. Despite their fleeting nature, your appreciation for his gestures will last forever. Even if their lifespan doesn't.

Carmen's had this tendency for longer than either of you can pinpoint. Having money he doesn't need, money he doesn't use, has led to him making some questionable decisions. All in good faith. But impractical nonetheless. Take, for example, that time he bought you a Cartier love bracelet for your 1 year anniversary.

Yes, you heard that right. Cartier. The gold and shiny flat bands that required the disassembling and unscrewing of 18 karat gold bolts with a miniature fucking screwdriver. Oh, and this was even after you and him agreed to 'no gifts,' as you were already planning a trip to Copenhagen. The reaction he received from you wasn't quite what he expected. Tears streaming down your face and the kiss on his cheek to compensate for the lack of a proper gift for him was not part of the thoroughly walked through plan he wrote in his head. But your happiness is his, in the purest and pathetic and shameless way. He realized this the moment he screwed that last bolt and secured the thin piece of gold against the circumference of your wrist.

It's around 4pm, and the glistening sun is just slightly past its highest peek. Bright transparent blue and green spoons made from hard plastic swirl around in the cheap, (and definitely not authentic) gelato you share. Outdoor seating wasn't the first option, now that spring was slowly evolving into another scorching hot Chicago summer, but the AC of the parlor was sure to give you hypothermia.

"Fuckin' hot out here. Can't see," Carmen mutters, taking a small bite of the creamy pistachio mixture. He squints at the blinding beam of the sunlight. You felt a little guilty for letting him sit right in the direction of the sun. But he insisted.

"Did y'know blue eyes are more sensitive to sunlight?" You raised your brows, wiping the corner of your mouth and licking the gelato residue from it.

"Seriously?" Carmen leans forward, putting his hand above his eyes as a makeshift visor. His hand reaches out to adjust the heart shaped sunglasses that started to fall off of your head.

"Here," you hand them to him, feeling bad that you'd completely forgotten about them.

"And yes, seriously," you nod, hovering over the table and adjusting the sunglasses so they'd rest perfectly on Carmen's nose before sitting back down, "It's because blue eyes have less melanosomes compared to green and brown eyes."

A simple, "thank you, baby," would've sufficed, but kisses your lips, gently cradling your jaw and barely letting a breath of air slip through the empty space between your mouths after the 3rd kiss. Alas, you remove your lips from his and sit back down.

"Is there, like—"

"An exact number?" You finished his sentence.

"Yeah."

"Yes, actually. Blue eyes have 3 in each, green eyes have 5, and brown eyes usually have around 9 to 12 depending on how deep the color is."

You smile, shrugging your shoulders as you try to remain humble. It's impressive, he has to admit. Carmen's always been fascinated by your knowledge of pointless information. He wishes he could store and retain so much of what you know. But for now, he'll just admire you for it. He'll contemplate his lack of ability to remember things like patterns and bullet pointed facts that didn't relate to culinary arts later.

"Huh," he crosses his arms against his chest, his button up shirt squeezing his flesh and showing his slightly faded tattoos "kinda makes sense."

Letting out a laugh or two, you take another disappointing bite of the fake gelato monstrosity. It's not that it doesn't taste decent, but the texture is off and the crystallized ice that formed around the sides is unappealing for the price. Carmen had doubts since the moment you dragged him in by the hand like a greedy kid spotting a candy store. But he didn't say anything. What's the point of using his knowledge and skills to crush making you happy? It wasn't necessary at the time.

But, much to his pleasure of being correct, but his dismay of your disappointment, you aren't the biggest fan of it in the end.

"This isn't great," you swallow, shaking your head and dropping the spoon back into the paper cup in defeat as the green and nutty mixture went down your throat for the last time.

"It's not real," Carmen joins you, just to end up dropping his spoon in the same unfulfilling manner, too. "Most gelato places aren't. Gelato's dense. Not fluffy."

You nod, pushing the cup to the side and interlocking your fingers into his. His calloused fingertips gently caress the back of your hand and go over every little vein and mole that shines through your soft and soothing skin. He's become pretty fond of the whole hand-holding thing. Especially with that pretty rock on your finger. It's delicate. You're delicate. You're his.

"You've been doing that since the day we met, y'know," you hold onto his hand tighter, smiling and snatching your sunglasses back from his face with one swift motion before he can protest.

"What? Explaining shit about food you don't care about?" Carmen chuckles, his teeth showing. Sometimes he was embarrassed of his info-dumping, but he's learned to not be so shameful of it. You find it interesting. He doesn't really notice that he does it anymore.

"Yeah. But it's cute. It's what made me wanna keep talking to you. You don't do it to make me feel stupid, or something. You just.."

You paused to think.

"You know a lot about what you do, Carm. You're passionate."

Ah. The day you met.

Around 3 years ago, you'd just moved to the bustling city of Chicago after writing and successfully selling a beautiful script to an indie short film, which ended up being undeserving of your work due to the poor execution of dialogue. It didn't even end up showing at the film festival you were practically forced to attend. Even after co-writing and directing film projects and not-so-popular cinematic pieces, you hadn't tasted the pleasure of success. You dreamed to write something all on your own and conjure up a moving script of the century. You figured moving to a brand new city would get the creative juices flowing. Eventually, it did, but it took a boring circle of friends and a couple sleepless nights before you were successfully back and thriving in the industry.

You decided celebrating with an appletini or two at a shitty Karaoke bar down the block from your apartment was the best option. And thank god you did.

Carmen caught your eye the moment you detached yourself from your social circle to smoke a cigarette or two outback in the alleyway to melt the anxiety that started to consume you once you got a little tipsy for the first time in months. The tattoo on his hand and the way he crouched down on the asphalt beside Richie who complained endlessly about the complexities of his divorce was intriguing.

You butted into their conversation and lit a cigarette of your own, politely greeting them. Richie didn't say much. It's like he knew it would be Carmen's opportunity to function like a normal person and have a pleasant conversation with a random bar girl in black pantyhose and combat boots. The two of you discussed moving back to Chicago, discovering that Carmen actually grew up there and started a new life of culinary exploration and expertise, while you just needed a sense of control and escapism.

After the conversation had reduced to mundane small talk, visibly making both of you tense up, you finally got his name: Carmen Berzatto. His use of his full name was a little displacing. It made you wonder if you should've known who he was, considering his surprisingly humble background check. You couldn't help but want to know if there was more to him than his career. More than his cigarettes and his tattoos and his weird love-hate relationship with his family friend he called 'cousin' for no real particular reason.

More than the restaurant he'd been trying to revive.

That night caused him to come to the realization that he didn't actually know if there was more to him. Ever since that conversation and its rude interruption of Richie's right hook into some random guys face landing him in a cell overnight, he's been forming into a real person instead of the outer shell that is his job as a chef. He asked about your films, your projects, what made you start working in cinematography, and who your inspirations were. You answered completely honestly and wholeheartedly with every question, never making him feel a burden for his curiosity.

You could tell he was nervous with the way his voice shook and his breath went uneven with every look.

"I was kinda scared to talk to you when you came up to me," Carmen smiles, running his free hand through his dry and defined blonde curls. You squinted in disbelief.

"What? Me?"

"Yeah. I don't know, I–" he shrugs, leaning forward to get even closer to your again "you were cool right off the bat. You still are. Possibly a lot cooler than me."

You roll your eyes playfully, refusing to take the compliment in a fit of flattery. Constantly being humble around Carmen was kinda hard. Especially with the way he unintentionally showered you with compliments that were really just state of facts to him. But he didn't want you to be humble. He wanted you to own that shit.

"And you're beautiful. So, so beautiful. I think that scared me a little, too."

"I think I might've been more nervous than you were. I was just so determined to talk to the hot guy with tattoos and a blue apron over a slutty white t-shirt that I tried desperately to hide it," you joked, laughing harder at the sight of an eyeroll of his own.

"Yeah, well, look at us now. Married," Carmen smiles, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and exposing your decorated lobe with earrings Natalie gifted you for your birthday last year. "I'm glad you stuck it out. You always do. All the time."

Carmen gushes over your ability to 'always know what to say,' when you know deep down your life is just a constant cycle of 'figuring it out' and 'going with the flow' of inevitable highs and lows of life as you go on. Your brilliance is so organic. Everything about you has always been the purest form of excellence and love to him. Even when he barely knew you.

"Can I ask you a really stupid question?" You bite at the inside of your cheek, your hand releasing from Carmen's so you could clasp your palms together in a pleading motion.

"Sure."

You pause, swallowing the familiar lump that hasn't formed in your throat since the first time you told him you wanted every part of him in your life.

"When..." you breathe in sharply through your nose, "did you realize, 'oh yeah, I need to spend the rest of my life with her.' Was there any specific moment?"

Almost without a second thought, Carmen answers with a blush against his cheeks and his hand grasping yours again at the loss of physical contact.

"Probably the first time we kissed."

That response surprises you more than it probably should. That night in your apartment changed his course and perspective on love and life for the rest of eternity. He learned to slow down and let himself fail and pick the pieces of his mistakes back up.

"I love you, Carmy."

"I love you."

He says it back hungrily like he needs it to be branded into the ridges of your mind. And at this rate, it might've already been stamped into your memories of him.

current taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @fallinallinmendes @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Trouble

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When Bucky first meets you, he thinks you're nothing but trouble. Eventually, it becomes a nickname you answer to.

Disclaimer: fluff with steamy moments at the end, enemies-ish to lovers, hint of fake dating as Bucky is Reader's wedding date, Bucky gets a little jealous, sharing a hotel room, reader works for Shield, Sam and Maria are mentioned to be engaged, swearing. Not fully proof read.

“Hey, Trouble.” 

You gave a short sigh, but kept the smile on your face. “Morning, Buck.”

Bucky had been calling you ‘Trouble’ since the first day he met you. Granted, having first met you, he thought you were trouble. You’d been inside a building they were surveying and he mistook you for one of the gang members he and Sam had been watching for the last three months. You’d given them the slip that evening, only to turn up in their Monday morning meeting. 

Hill had hired you. 

“Hill, she’s nothing but trouble. We caught her-”

“I know you did.”

Sam looked at his fiance. “And you’re still gonna hire her?”

Maria nodded with her arms folded across her chest. In honesty, it was more like a shrug before she turned to you. You’d been far too relaxed in your seat since Bucky had walked inside. Just another indicator that you were trouble. And you were smiling. Smirking? 

Maybe a bit of both. 

“I was a Fed.”

“You’re a Fed?”

You shook your head. “Was. Was a Fed.”

Maria continued for you. “She graduated first in her class in everything. Field work and academics, alike. Y/n has been on our radar for a while.”

Because you were trouble.

Bucky felt Sam nudge him. “Subtitles, Buck. You might not be saying anything but we can see it on your face. I can see it on your face.” 

Bucky just scowled more. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Credentials like hers don’t come across my desk too often these days. I wanted to see if she was the real deal so I sent her to tail you two.”

Both men did a double take of Maria and yourself. “Us?!”

You laughed a little at their surprise. “Yes, you. You know, for two of the world's best Avengers you are both terrible at being secretive. In the space of three days I’ve managed to find out your routines.”

“Three-” Sam’s words spat from his mouth. “Three days?! You’ve had her following us for three days?”

Maria shrugged, again. “Told you training was coming soon. Gotta find a way to keep you both of your toes.”

It was then Sam’s turn to scowl. He understood why, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Three days? He and Buck had been followed for three days by-by-by a, a what, a teeneger?

It was only when you replied, “I’m in my 20s.”, did Sam realise he’d said his question out loud. 

“You’re a fetus.” Bucky said before looking at you. Biologically, he might be in his 30s. But his birthday was over a hundred years ago. 

You just smiled at him. 

“Y/n’s gonna be joining your team.” 

“What?” Bucky asked, almost giving himself whiplash as he turned back to Maria. 

“Relax, Sergeant Barnes.” He looked back at you. “I’ll mostly be working alongside Captain Torres. As fun as field work can be, I’m a lot more useful to both of you behind a monitor. So, if you ever need anything hacking. Government secrets? Secret chambers? That dating profile Sam set up in your honour?” 

Nearly giving himself whiplash again, Bucky looked at Sam. And, as guiltless as he tried to look, he failed. He’d set him a dating profile up? When?!

“You just let me know,” you smiled.  “Am I free to go, Director?”

Maria nodded. “Bishop agreed to meet you outside your apartment to help you get settled in.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you.” Then you turned back to your new teammates. “See you boys on Wednesday.”

That had been almost three years ago. It had taken all of twenty minutes for Bucky to adopt your new nickname. Trouble. In the beginning, it had been because he thought that’s what you were; trouble. Bad news. But, after a while, you started to wear him down. 

It had taken a week for Sam to get used to you, and less than five minutes for Torres. He liked the way you kept “the grump” as you called him, on his toes. 

Eventually the nickname of Trouble moved away from hatred to a little more affectionate. It did take you entering field duty again without letting anyone know, saving both Bucky and Sam’s lives when they got cornered in a run down mansion out in the middle of nowhere. 

But never once had you forced a smile at the nickname. So, when you said “Morning, Buck.”, Bucky stopped in his tracks. He looked up from his clipboard, silently watching you for a moment. 

Even if your entire body wasn’t dripping with sweat as you continued to pummel the swinging punching bag in front of you, and even if your hair hadn’t been frizzing out from your rough ponytail as the back of your head; Bucky still would have known you were stressed. 

You never forced a smile around him. You’d been exasperated, tired, exhausted, angry, kind, loveable, happy, joyful, excited and every other emotion around him. But never once had you faked a smile around him. 

Around others? Sure. That was how he knew this one was fake. 

“Hold your horses.” Bucky said as he walked closer to you. 

You sighed, pulling your punches from the bag before finally standing still. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing-” You started, shaking your head. But he wasn’t biting. 

“No, not nothing. What’s going on? You’re glaring at the bag like it owes you six months rent. What’s going on?”

You sighed, completely exhausted. “Nothing, Buck. It’s fine. I swear.”

“Trouble?”

You looked at Bucky. 

For as long as you’d been alive, you’d been able to read people. Their inner thoughts, their deepest feelings. But nobody had ever been able to read you. 

Until Bucky. 

Sam tried his best, as did Torres. And, credit where credit is due, they did well. But that was only when you weren’t trying to hide it. A long day at work? A show ending the way you didn’t want it to? 

But days like this? 

You’d gone all week without letting people see. And you knew they couldn’t see. But Bucky? It was like he could see right into your soul. 

And it scared the crap outta you. 

“Bucky…” Your voice was soft, pleading for him not to dig. 

It took all of thirty seconds for him to look away from you, looking at the ceiling with a short sigh. “Alright, come on.”

Taking you by the shoulder, he stepped you away from the punching bag and hooked the clipboard under his arm before taking your wrapped hands into his. Then he started to unravel the bandages. He could already see the small bruises on your knuckles. 

“You’re gonna need to ice them.” 

He said nothing else as he unravelled your hands. Then, he took hold of one. He dropped the clipboard on the bench as he walked you both over to your gym bag before dropping your wraps into it. 

“Bucky-”

“Come with me.”

“Buck- Bucky.” You looked around you, confused as to why he was dragging you out of the gym. “James!”

He pulled you beside him before pressing a gentle hand on your lower back. 

“This feels like ‘The Quiet Man’. Where the hell are we going?”

“I’m getting you out of the compound.”

You almost started jogging beside him. “Okay, I get you’ve been trying to fire me since day one but you don’t actually have that authority.”

Well, at least you were still joking with him. Even if he had tried in the early stages, he hadn’t tried to get you fired in over two years. 

Eventually you stopped arguing, simply sighing and saying, “Fuck it.”

Whether he was gonna try and fire you, kidnap you or drag you to a church in Ireland to get married; it was better than staying in the compound, throwing punches hard enough to break the bag for a second time. 

Two hours later, Bucky’s motorbike was parked up in the dirt road behind you both as you sat beside each other, your legs hanging over the edge of the grassy hill. 

“Feeling better?” Bucky asked as you were half way through your food. 

You nodded, a lot calmer than you were back at the compound. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Then after a beat, he spoke up again. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged. “Not much to say.”

“I think the punching bag might disagree.”

Bucky watched as a smile flexed subtly on your face. But after a split second, it disappeared. Your shoulders, somehow, dropped lower and you shook your head. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then start at the beginning.”

“I’m starting to regret showing you the movies you missed.” 

Bucky chuckled to himself quietly. Since you had become friends…kinda…you’d taken it upon yourself. Or rather, you and Joaquin, had taken it upon yourselves, with Sam’s help, to bring Bucky up to speed on everything he’d missed since being in the ice. 

It was on the nights when it was just you and him; maybe Sam was called away by his sister or his fiance, or Joaquin went to see his family. It was on those nights where you’d show Bucky the true classics. The ones he would have secretly loved if he’d gotten a chance to see them when they first got released. 

They were some of his favourite memories with you. 

Taking in a breath, you tried to work out in your head where the beginning was. 

“Work’s kinda taking its toll on me.” Finally admitting that outloud felt a lot easier than you’d thought it would. Bucky seemed to always have that effect on you. He made things easier. “I, uh, I’ve been asked to guest lecture at my old Training Academy and they keep trying to make me agree to a full time contract. The students apparently have learnt a lot and it makes their attendance records look better than they have done in years. Though, I’m pretty sure they only attended the lecture in the hopes that Joaquin would turn up again.”

Bucky just sat and listened to you as you looked out to the rest of the city. 

“I enjoy doing them, and I know the students like asking questions some of the teachers won’t answer directly. But between the missions, and the intel gathering. That’s taking me a lot longer than it used to, by the way and I hate it. I used to be able to crack open almost anything. But since tech development or whatever…criminals are a lot smarter than they used to be when it comes to their encryption.”

You took a few more breaths before continuing. 

“My family has been calling more and more recently, too. Don’t get me wrong. I-I love em’. But…” You let out a long breath. “It’s everyday. They’re asking for new information and I don’t have it. I’ve had a good day – that’s all I can say. I’m not dead. I spend my day going over lines and lines of data. What the fuck am I meant to say? And then I got an invite through my door last week inviting me to my cousin’s wedding and the phone calls from home have basically tripled. I’ve had to switch my answering machine off. They were filling it; have you got the invite yet? When are you gonna reply? You’re gonna be sitting next to your aunt from your dad’s side, you know I can’t stand that woman. Have you got your dress yet? Your dress is important, you need to look your best for the photos, Grandma will want ten copies, have you got a date yet? Do you need a date? Do you want me to ask your cousin if she has any single friends? Or maybe her fiance knows somebody? You can’t come to a wedding alone. Or maybe it’s best, that way we can help you find someone-”

Bucky laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey, okay. Okay, breathe. Deep breaths.”

You took some more deep breaths. 

“It’s a never ending cycle, Buck. I-I go from one extreme to the other and…and I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I love my family, but right now I can’t think of anything worse than flying home and seeing them right now. And, as much as I love my work, I’d rather wait before I see another line of data.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a while. He just studied you. The way your shoulders fell, the way your true feelings and pure exhaustion took over your expression, the way your voice dropped from the hurried pace from earlier. 

“You’re burning yourself out.”

Now, you finally looked at him. 

“You need to take a break. Call Hill in the morning and tell her you’re taking two weeks. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.” 

“But we’ve got-”

“The next mission won’t happen until next month. But you need a break. Y/n. And as for your family, what if I went with you?”

“What?”

“Take me as your date.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Bucky, you don’t-”

“What?” He leaned back, his expression teasing. “Too handsome?”

“It’s not that-”

“Too old?” Bucky gave a short gasp. “I gotta tell ya, that’s ageist.”

You laughed. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Why not? You’re my friend.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

Bucky shrugged. “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

You smiled, softly. 

“Come on, what could go wrong?”

You nodded, slowly. “My family will meet you and never want to let you go, that’s what.”

Bucky just shrugged again. “Can’t help it. Mom’s love me.”

“Bucky, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And I’m telling you to take the offer.”

You remained silent as you kept your eyes on him. Bucky watched as you bit your bottom lip pensively, like you were running through every worse case scenario before getting to the good ones. 

“Come on,” he whispered. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Finally, you agreed. “Okay.”

For the next two weeks, you spent most of your time relaxing, completing the jobs in your apartment you’d ignored over time and dress shopping for the wedding that would be taking place in two months time. 

By the time you got back to work, things felt less like a tsunami being thrown over you and after the mission, a wedding with your family didn’t seem too terrible. 

“Do I have to wear a bow-tie?” Bucky called out from the hotel room as you remained in the bathroom, fixing your make-up. 

You’d left him twenty minutes ago to get dressed. 

“According to the invite, it’s compulsory.” 

You heard Bucky groan a little before swearing at what you gathered was either himself, the invite or the bow-tie. 

“Why couldn’t it be a normal tie?”

“Because my cousin loves the idea of Old Hollywood.”

“Technically, when I went into the ice it was just known as Hollywood. And we wore ties.”

You chuckled, putting your lipstick brush down before quickly blotting your lips twice. Throwing the tissue into the bin by the door, you walked out of the bathroom, around and around the corner and back into your shared hotel room. 

“Parts of culture have been lost to time sadly, so bow-ties it is,” you said as you came into view. “Come here. I’ll do it.”

Bucky had caught a glimpse of you in the mirror, but seeing the real you. Not the reflected version…that was something else entirely. The colour complimented you in a way he’d never seen before, and the way it hugged and draped on your body was making his mind think things that he shouldn’t be thinking about his friend and co-worker. 

You were stunningly gorgeous. 

As you stood in front of him, so close that if he leaned forward just a touch, he could press his lips to yours,  his senses becoming filled with you and his hands itched to touch you. To hold you by your waist or your hips, just to keep you standing so close to him. 

“There.” You leaned back a little before looking at him with that smile that, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, had made him weak at the knees since the first day he’d met you. 

With your hands braced on his shoulders, you turned him around to face the mirror. “You look handsome.”

It wasn’t a genuine compliment covered up by a joke. You weren’t teasing him. 

You were being genuinely honest. 

And you tried to ignore the way he looked at you and the feelings it gave you in your chest, but meeting his eyes in the mirror only seemed to make that feeling grow. 

You hadn’t missed the way Bucky had stopped as you entered the room and how it took him a moment before his body kicked back into gear in order to stand in front of you. But you tried to ignore what you were feeling at seeing him dressed the way he was. 

Often he was in henley t-shirts and jeans when he wasn’t in his field uniform. So, seeing him all clean cut and in a tux was making you feel things. Since the henley’s were almost every day, you’d been able to, over the years, make yourself slightly immune to the feelings they gave you. 

But you’d never seen him in a tux. 

Even if you didn’t know he’d been in his 20s in the forties, seeing him dressed like this would have given you the feeling that he definitely had been in a past life. 

“We better go before we’re late.”

Bucky tried to find comprehensible words to say. The best he could come up with was, “Yeah.”

It wasn’t until the reception that he would finally be able to tell you how beautiful he found you. 

The wedding had been beautiful, every corner of the wedding venue being draped in silk. The dinner had gone off without a hitch. You and Bucky were seated together and despite the judgy comments from your aunt, Bucky held your hand throughout the entire thing, answering each question your aunt threw at him. 

And by the time people were invited onto the dance floor after the bride and groom, your aunt, happy with your choice of a date, nudged him to ask you to do as much. 

All he did was hold out his hand and looking from him, to the dance floor and back again, you took his hand. 

“I, uh, I don’t-” 

Bucky said nothing. With a light smirk on his face, he did what he’d wanted to do all night. Well, one of the things. 

Stepping into you, his hand firmly on your waist, he gently threw one of your hands to his shoulder before holding your other one firmly in his. 

“Okay.” Bucky heard you say quietly. 

His light smirk formed a small smile. “I might not know how to tie a bow-tie, but I do know how to dance.”

You nodded. “That. Is. Clear.”

You felt a little awkward, trying to keep your head away from the thoughts it was spilling into. 

Bucky chuckled and you felt his gravelly breath by the shell of your ear. “Just trust me, doll. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

You did, eventually, manage to relax a little as the song bled on. And, just as it started to feel easy and natural to be held by him in this way, his words sent both your head and your heart into a spin. 

“You’re gorgeous, by the way.” You leaned your head back a little to look at him. Was he fucking with you? “Stunning.”

You were thankful the lights were dimmer than they had been at dinner. It gave you at least a little cover for the heat that overtook your cheeks. 

“Thank you.”

Nothing else was said after that. You couldn’t keep looking at him, in fear that if you looked at him for too long, he’d be able to see right through you. 

So, with your temple resting against his, you let him lead you in a slow dance along with the rest of the couples. 

A little ways through the dance, you felt Bucky’s hand on your waist dip a little lower and onto your hip before moving to your back where you could feel his fingers softly trailing up and down your back against your dress. 

You felt yourself shiver at his touch. 

Bucky smirked a little by the shell of your ear. “Cold?”

When you spoke, your voice felt a little strangled to your ears. “No.”

You heard a small hum from his chest before he pulled you closer, or maybe you stepped closer to him, and his fingers softly continued to trail up and down. 

A few songs later, both you and Bucky sitting at a new table that your mother had dragged you to, you were asked to dance with someone your uncle had dragged over to meet you. And throughout your entire dance with the new guy, you just wished you were back in Bucky’s arms. 

However, as you danced, you failed to notice the way he was looking at you. But your cousin hadn’t. When Bucky’s eyes fell on you, he had a mixed look in them. Complete adoration and love, and that he could eat you alive. But when his eyes fell on the guy you were slightly awkwardly dancing with, a darker look took over. 

Jealousy. 

You’d told her that you’d be bringing a date, and from what your family had told her, your date was just a friend. But having watched both of you dance, and the way Bucky was looking at you…you certainly were not ‘just’ friends. 

And even if you were, it wouldn’t be for long. 

Then Bucky stood, carefully making his way over to you. And the look in your eyes when you spotted him making his way over…

Your cousin was certain the next wedding she would be attending would be yours.

“Mind me cutting in?”

The guy shook his head and stepped back, saying quiet words of kindness to you. But once you found yourself in Bucky’s arms, you felt yourself melt. 

“Thank you.”

“You looked like you had a stone in your shoes, trying to dance with him.”

“That’s kinda what it felt like. Glad to know I’ve got acting skills to fall back on if I ever want to quit. Or if you get me fired.”

“I’ll only get you fired if you start causing trouble, Trouble.”

A light smile appeared on your lips for a few seconds before you disappeared into his shoulder to hide your face from him. 

Two more dances and a conversation split between three different groups later, you were ready to go home. You said goodbye to your cousin, both you and Bucky complimenting her and the wedding before taking your leave. 

By the time you got back to the hotel, taking your heels off in the lobby, thankful to feel the cold marble floor beneath your feet, the clock was starting to reach midnight. 

Bucky took your hand in his, leading you to the elevator. And where you both could have stood opposite each other, without thinking, he pulled you into his side. Both of you stood in the centre of the elevator, Bucky leaned over and pressed the button to your floor. 

In the silence, Bucky watching the numbers climb higher and higher, you took time to look at him. The shape of him, his jawline. He’d taken his jacket off and given it to you on the walk inside to the hotel. The bow-tie was now loose and around his neck. 

“You’re staring.”

For the first time that night, you didn’t look away from him. 

“Can’t help it.”

Bucky looked back at you just before the doors to the elevator rang open. There was a soft smirk resting on his lips. 

“Come on, Trouble.”

Leading you out of the elevator, you pulled the hotel room key from your purse before sliding it into the door. With a beep, the latch unlocked itself and you pushed the handle down and Bucky helped you push the door open. 

The entire room was quiet. The moonlight floated behind the soft curtains, lighting up a few spaces on the carpet. The room remained quiet as you and Bucky walked around before he opened up the two dividing doors that led to his bedroom. 

Looking over your shoulder, you watched the muscles in his back tense as he opened the two doors and walked inside. And, despite wishing to stay and watch the show of Bucky getting undressed, you moved towards your bathroom. Zipping down the side panel zip, you let the gown fall to the floor before you pulled the clean pajamas you’d left on the counter over your head and up your legs. 

Despite the hour, you and Bucky stayed up a little longer to talk. He was back in a henley shirt and some long plaid pajama bottoms. 

The same ones you’d bought him when you’d been his Secret Santa two years ago. 

Your make-up had long been washed away and you and Bucky spent at least forty minutes gossiping about what the third cousin on your mom’s side had been wearing in replace of a hat. 

Then you had to say your goodnights. 

Only, as he closed the dividing door behind him, you felt like something was missing. You wanted him to stay. You wanted to keep talking to him. You wanted him…you wanted him to touch you the same way he had done on the dance floor, his voice gravelly by your ear, sending goosebumps across your body in a way nobody had ever done before. 

Little did you know, Bucky wanted the same. 

He could hear your footsteps on the carpet behind the door. The soft light from the lamp in your room shone under the door and he could see your shadow walking back and forth. Each time you walked back to the door, so did he. Only to then see it walk away, so he did the same. 

For the fifth time, you walked back towards Bucky’s door. Except, before you could walk back across the rest of your room, the door opened. 

And there he was. In the glow of moonlight from his own room, barely six feet from you. Neither of you said anything for a few moments, just letting the silent conversation pass between you. 

“I don’t want tonight to end.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them, or reword them. But you didn’t need to. If anyone understood you, it was Bucky. 

You didn’t know who moved first, but barely a second later, Bucky’s hands were pushing through your hair, pulling you closer as his lips crashed against yours. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you pulled him closer before fisting his t-shirt. 

A moan vibrated from his chest as you pulled him closer, letting his kiss deepen. His finger ran through the lengths of your hair, gently pulling. 

As his steps carried him forward, yours carried you back until eventually he spun you, lifting you into his arms. Feeling your back secure against the wall, his hands supporting you, your body rocked against his hips as he leaned forward, driving your own further into the wall. 

You moaned a little as his tongue slipped past your lips and his fingers squeezed at your flesh. 

By the time you both woke up in the morning, breakfast had long been over, the sheets would be a completely tangled mess. And yourself and Bucky would be in a similar position; limbs tangled with one another's, heartbeats steady enough it could be mistaken for one, and the feeling of his fingers trailing up and down your spine. 

[fairy-angel222]

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓, 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—nanami is fed up of your annoying behavior

cw: smut, rough nanami, really mean nanami, heavy degradation, use of (slut, bitch), hair pulling, cumming inside you, gagging, face fucking, desk sex

a/n: this pic + mean nanami was trending months ago ik, but this is a repost so :’)

Being Satoru’s brat of a sister. Always teasing Nanami about him not having a girlfriend. You’re constantly whining in his ears about the dumbest things. You’re as annoying as your big brother, and Nanami can only tolerate so much. Especially when you decide to catch an attitude with everybody because something didn’t go your way.

That is exactly why Nanami had you on your knees taking his cock, his hand in your hair roughly bobbing your head along his thick length. “Is this what you needed to shut up, hmm?”

“Needed to be treated like the stupid slut that you are. Fuck, you’re so much less annoying like this.” He cursed, eyes dark with rage as he made you take him deeper. Loud gags filling the empty room as Nanami fucked your face.

Mascara filled tears ran down your face as you struggled to breathe. Your nails digging into the muscular man’s thighs. You could feel the tip of his cock slamming into the back of your throat with each movement of his hips. His pace fast and hard, heavy balls slapping your chin repeatedly.

Nanami’s head fell back, a string of curses leaving his mouth before groaning loudly. Two consecutive globs of his spit falling onto your face followed by the sharp slap of his palm. The man using his fingers to spread his saliva and your tears across your cheeks. “So, so much better like this.”

He yanked you up by your hair. Bending you over his desk before thrusting into your sopping pussy with no warning.

You let out soft cries as he bullied your cunt open, stretching you out almost painfully. Nanami groaned loudly when you clenched down on him. His long fingers digging into your cheeks as your moans increased in volume. “Shut the fuck up.” he grunted. Pulling off his tie in one swift motion before stuffing it into your babbling mouth.

“Just shut up and take it. Had enough of your bratty attitude.” He growled meanly.

Nanami’s hips snapped into yours inhumanly, your tits rubbing against the hard wooden desk as your body jerked with every thrust. It felt so good to put you back in your place. He was so fucking tired of hearing your voice.

Nanami this. Nanami that. I want this. I want that. Always getting on like a fucking baby when you didn’t get your way. He was sick of it.

Nanami grabbed onto your two wrists bruisingly, holding them behind your back as his other hand found its place in your hair again. Pulling you up, Nanami held you flush against him, cock reaching even deeper than before as he fucked into your shorter frame.

You felt so tiny against him, your head rested on his broad chest as your sobs were muffled by the yellow and black cloth. Forcing your teary eyes open, you could see the anger on the man’s face. His eyebrows furrowed, hooded eyes glaring down at you and his lips pressed into a scowl.

It gave him maximum satisfaction to see you so dumb on his cock. “Maybe this was your fucking goal all along. To have me ruin you on my cock and fuck that attitude out of you.” He grunted.

“Fuck, i hate you so much baby. Look at you, where’s that annoying bitch now huh?” He laughed darkly. “Gotta keep fucking you like this to keep your dumb slut of a mouth in check.”

You let out a muffled cry, his tie becoming soaked with your tears and spit as drool ran down the sides of your mouth. Knees wobbly beneath you as your eyes rolled back, the man fucking you closer to orgasm.

“Fucking look at me.” he growled, “Look at me when i break this pussy on my cock.” He demanded, his voice rough and deep. You whimpered, glassy eyes looking up at him through wet lashes till you met his brown ones.

Your pussy clenched impossibly harder, your slick running down your thighs as he fucked out your every last brain cell. Slamming up harshly until your mind was etched with nothing but him, his name, and his monster of a cock.

You could feel his veins rubbing against your gummy spot as your body began to shake. Muffled incoherent moans of his name being spilled straight into the fabric between your lips.

“Should’ve known sooner that this is what a slut like you needed. It’s all you’re fucking good for huh baby?” You nodded in agreement with a cry. Obscenely loud squelching sounds filling the room as he sloppily thrusted into your soaked pussy.

A smirk grew on the man’s face. “Maybe I should stop right now and leave you needy for my cock for the rest of the day.” You whined in protest, your tears ready to double in amount. Nanami only smirked wider, “Teach you a real lesson.”

Nanami’s mouth hung slightly in short grunts, his abs tensing behind you. “Fuck, go ahead slut. Cum, make a mess f’ me.”

Your body trembled uncontrollably, your moans and screams going unheard as you squirted. The clear liquid gushing onto the man’s thighs and tiled floor. “Dirty fucking bitch.” he spat, teeth clenched as he contemplated pulling out. “Gonna fill you up with all my cum. Someone like you is bound to be on the pill.”

Nanami stilled deep inside you, his deep groan sounding in your ear as you felt his hot ropes of cum coat your walls. “There we fucking go.” He breathed, remaining buried in your warm cunt for a few more minutes before pulling out.

Upon seeing your messy tear stained face, Nanami’s eyes widened. Did he go too far? Shit. Taking the dripping tie out your mouth, he opened his mouth to ask if you were okay. He was taken aback when you hugged him tightly, looking up at him with a wide grin. You truly were a little slut.

You giggled, “Wanted that for so long. Wish you would have done it sooner.” you pouted. And Nanami simply blinked in surprise as you nuzzled into his chest. You really were a Gojo.

[rosenclaws]

What you've been missing || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: Logan has found work at a local pet shelter but the last person he expects to see is his very cute neighbor looking for a new cat.

warnings: sad cat backstory, fluff, swearing

a/n: Here's pet shelter logan!! I'm ngl I almost started crying writing this because I want a cat so fucking bad but my dad is allergic and I still live at home so I can't get one. Also it made me think of this one senior cat I saw and I wanted so bad I cried to my boyfriend for days. Anyways I hope lives up to the og idea blurb I had. I've been feeling a little down and wanted to write something cute for a change.

"Hey watch the claws bub." Logan glares at his attacker. The one who stuck their sharp little claws into his leg as they climb his body like a tree.

Merooow

The adorable orange cat looks up at him with innocent little eyes. The cutest he's ever seen. Sighing he takes the cat in one hand and places her on his shoulder.

"This is why the others think I play favorites Jeanie." he mumbles. She just purrs happily, rubbing her head against Logan's and taking her place on his wide shoulders.

This really isn't how Logan expected to spend his time. But getting pulled into a new universe meant he was starting from square one and that meant he needed a job and money. Bad. If he ever wanted to get his own place so he didn't have to wake up and see Wade walking around in nothing while making breakfast. Most places were unsure about hiring a man like Logan.

Until he stumbled upon a local pet shelter. Yeah he's not exactly what anyone would think when they thought animal rescue but the animals loved him and this shelter desperately needed help. Plus Logan always got along better with animals than humans. Logan was primarily put in charge of the cats. Feeding, changing their litter box, and playing with them.

Logan understood the cats and they seemed to understand him. They wouldn't hiss or scratch him out of fear, they inherently trusted him. He found himself a little home. He could escape the world and just be around the animals.

"Where are my babies?" He hears Wades voice come from the other room. Logan rolls his eyes as he walks in with a big bag of cat food on his other shoulder.

"There you are Shopping cart and Totino's pizza rolls." Wade scratches the two cats heads. Surprise surprise he named them.

Though as soon as they hear Logan walk in they abandon Wade without a second thought. Logan slices open the bag and pours food into each bowl. The cats scramble to eat, doesn't matter if you had fed them an hour ago they're always happy for food.

"Jeanie, you gotta eat bub." Logan raises his hand and gently pets her head. But her claws dig deep into his shirt.

"Alright come on," Logan he grabs a can of cat food and walks into an empty room.

The sound of it opening makes her ears perk up. Logan gently takes her off his shoulder and places her on the table next to the canned food. He watches as she sniffs it, taking a few small bites before looking back at him.

"More than that." He scolds and she just meows back.

"Please?" She takes one more small bite before abandoning the food and curling up by his side.

Logan sighs, pushing his hair back as takes her in his arms. Jeanie was a surrendered cat. Logan hadn't been here long when she was brought in. Her owner was an old lady who had passed away and her kids couldn't keep Jeanie.

The first week was really hard. She was sad, lonely, and would barely touch her food and water. At first Logan let the more experienced staff deal with her but she just wouldn't budge. Eventually he gave it a shot, talking to her and pushing some nice wet food towards her. To everyone's shock she actually responded to Logan. Peeking her head out of her cage and giving even sniffing his hand.

Since then she really only responded to Logan. Following him around and giving him all her love and attention. She was a mature cat, not as cute as the kittens that most people scooped up right away. It did hurt Logan just a little to see her be passed up because of her age, but Logan did enjoy getting to see her everyday. Still, he knows that with Mary Puppins at home he can't adopt her.

Suddenly the door opens and Jeanie scurries back up to Logan's shoulder.

"Logan, I have a 1:30 appointment and Kathy isn't here so I need you to cover her." Penny begs, she's the one who runs the shelter. She gave Logan the job and he does owe her, but he's never been good with customers.

"I don't know, not exactly a people person." He mumbles but she just rolls her eyes, grabbing his wrist and drags him out of the room. Well kind of, it's hard to pull a 300lb man with a metal skeleton.

"Just one appointment. Show them some cats and see if they want to adopt. That's it."

"Okay," Logan agrees, hoping it's over quickly. He tries to put Jeanie down but she throws a fit, meowing loudly until he just gives up.

"Fine, but you keep it down when I'm talking alright?" He pushes open the door leading to the lobby and stops right in his tracks.

There you are sitting on the waiting room couch. Logan knows you. You live a couple apartments down from Wade. He's seen you in passing, catching whiffs of your shampoo in the elevator in the least creepy way ever. You've shared a few hellos but that's it.

The truth is Logan's pretty...well pretty. Your crush on him wasn't surprising in the slightest but you try and stay clear of him, hoping that it will go away so that you can actually talk to the man one day.

"Logan? I didn't know you worked here?" You say, shocked to see your hot neighbor here.

"Yeah, uh anyways you here to adopt a cat?" He asks awkwardly.

"I hope," You respond.

He nods his head and opens the door for you, putting his hand out as to say you first. Logan shows you a couple cats up for adopting, they're all adorable but none of them feel quite right. On the bright side they're kittens so you know they'll be adopted soon.

Logan remains relatively quiet as you say hi to each cat. Wade's been incredibly persistent about getting him to talk to you. Saying that only serial killers smell peoples hair in the elevator and to just pop a Viagra and talk to you. Pushing Wade's stupidly aside, he really doesn't know how to talk to you.

It's stupid, he used to be great at this kind of thing. Flirting was second nature to Logan but now he can barely think of a conversation starter. Plus you don't make it easy when your laugh is so hypnotizing and your smile is brighter than the moon.

"Who's this pretty girl?" Your voice breaks his thoughts. You're pointing to Jeanie who was still on his shoulder.

"Oh, this is Jeanie." She tilts her head at the sound of her name.

"She's so cute." You lift your hand up but Jeanie shrinks away. You immediately pull your hand back, afraid that you've upset her.

"Don't feel bad, she's not great with people."

"Reminds me of someone else I know." You joke. Logan raises an eyebrow, are you talking about him?

"Me, I was talking about me." You add on quickly.

"I've never really been great at making friends or just being around people." The truth is you're lonely.

You're tired of coming home to an empty cold apartment after work. Sure sometimes you go out with coworkers or old friends but it's not the same. You like being alone but you don't like to be lonely. Does that even make any sense? Not that you want to burden Logan with your problems.

"I wanted to adopt a cat because I wanted a friend, is that sad?" You ask nervously. Logan chuckles, reaching up and placing Jeanie down on the counter nearby.

"Not at all, I get it." Logan was alone for a lot of his life and he's still adjusting to having friends. A family if you could call it that. A really weird and fucked up family.

"Play nice Jeanie, I like this one so don't go scratching them up." He whispers, but you catch his words anyways. A faint smile on your lips as you reach your hand out slowly.

"Hi Jeanie, I'm a friend of Logan's." This time Jeanie doesn't run away, in fact she sniffs your hand cautiously.

She looks back at Logan and he nods. You smile when she rubs the side of her face against your hand. Walking around slowly as she takes you in.

"I think she likes you." Logan says.

Carefully you pet her head, making sure not to overstep any boundaries and Jeanie seems to love it. She even rolls on her back surprising both you and Logan.

"Her owner passed away, that's why she's here." He explains as you continue to pet her. Her big eyes are too much to resist. You know senior cats often get overlooked but she deserves to be loved again.

"Is she adoptable?" You ask and Logan hesitates. The answer is yes but apart of him doesn't want to see her go. He's grown very fond of her. But...she deserves a home. Even if it will hurt letting her go.

"Yeah, she is." He says softly.

"If its okay with you, I want to adopt her." Logan's heart clenches, he smiles but he feels the sadness creep in.

"Of course, let me get the paperwork." When Logan disappears you see Jean start to look around, wondering where her friend had gone.

"Hey there girl, If it's okay I want to take you home. I promise I'll take really good care of you." You say gently.

Her little whiskers twitch and she gently headbutts your face. The connection you feel with Jeanie is something you just haven't felt with any of the other cats. You want to love her and give her a nice warm home with toys and treats and anything she could ever want. But apart of you feels guilty knowing how close she is to Logan.

"Just need you to sign a few things and then pay the adoption fee." Logan says, coming back through the door.

Jeanie trots up to Logan and rubs her head all over his hand and torso. Purring happily as he scratches her head. But she makes no move to get on his shoulder, in fact she trots over to you and does the exact same thing. He's always heard that cats have a good sense of character, so he trusts Jeanies judgement here.

After signing the papers and paying the fee Logan helps you carry Jeanie to your car. You can see the hesitancy in Logan's face. The sadness behind those hazel eyes of his.

"Logan, do you want to say goodbye?" You ask softly. He was never going to ask for himself but you could sense he needs it.

"If you don't mind." He mumbles.

"Of course, I'll go put the rest of the stuff in my car." You touch his arm, squeezing it gently before giving them their space.

"Alright Jeanie listen up, you gotta be on your best behavior okay? You deserve this and I know they're gonna love you real good." Logan holds Jeanie up to his face. She just meows as Logan talks.

"I'll miss you bub, don't tell any of the other cats but...you were my favorite." He gives her one last chin scratch.

Jeanie headbutts his face one more time, rubbing her head along his jaw as if to say goodbye. You watch the whole thing from your car, you feel horrible taking her away from Logan. But you know that your building has a rule against more than one pet. If anyone were to take her, he's glad it's you.

Maybe...maybe this is your chance to talk to Logan. Your crush lingers but maybe you don't have to get over it. Logan walks over and hands her to you. He starts to walk away but you call his name, chasing after him.

"You know, I could really use some help with Jeanie. I mean I don't know what food she likes or her favorite toys or anything like that." You ramble, seeing Logan's face turn to that of confusion.

"I was wondering, if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow night? Help Jeanie get settled in and stuff." You ask nervously. Your anxiety building as you wonder if this was a mistake.

"You sure?" Logan asks, unsure if you're just doing this because you feel bad for him.

"Yes. I mean. I've been wanting to ask you to dinner sooner but I've never found the right moment because you're really hot and you make me very nervous but Jeanie is going to miss you and it would be cruel of me to keep you two apart so it's a win win situation and I'm going to stop talking now." The words vomit from your mouth before you can stop them.

Great now he's going to think you're creepy and lonely. Logan chuckles, a blush creeping up his face. Was it always this hot outside today?

"Dinner sounds great. I can't cook for shit but I can try for you." Your face breaks out into a smile, Jeanie purring as you hold her close to your chest.

"Then its a date." You say shyly. Logan steps closer to you, his eyes on your lips.

"It's a date." He starts to lean but Jeanie meows loudly making both of you laugh.

"Okay I should get her home, the doors always open if you miss her by the way." You tell him and he thanks you. He stands in the parking lot with a smile, watching as you drive away. Wade sneaks up next to Logan, scratching behind his ear before Logan pushes his hand off in annoyance.

"What the fuck?!"

"Look at you boy! Did someone decide to take you home?" Wade asks in fake excitement.

"Shut up." Logan grumbles, rolling his eyes as he turns around to walk back to the shelter.

"Is someone grumpy? How about we get you a new collar and some treats huh boy?"

"I said shut the fuck up red." Logan snaps but Wade just smiles wider. He's been waiting for someone to adopt his friend. Wade was this close to posting an ad on craigslist.

Old man mutant available for adoption. Loves beer, hates everything else. Is potty trained.

Wade sees the smile Logan's trying to hide. He's been waiting for you guys to get together forever.

"Aww does someone need a belly rub?"

"Touch me and die asshole."

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Dog Pawrents

pairing: post apocalyptic joel x wife reader

The snow had started falling just past noon, light flakes dusting the pine trees as you and Joel rode the patrol route north of Jackson. You were both bundled up in thick jackets, scarves tucked high, rifles strapped to your backs. The wind had teeth, but your horse, Daisy, kept a steady pace through the woods.

You looked over your shoulder and grinned. “You cold, old man?”

Joel snorted, tugging his scarf up. “I’m fine. You’re the one with ice in your damn eyelashes.”

“Adds to the look.”

He rolled his eyes but you caught the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

You’d been riding in comfortable silence for a while when a faint whimper broke through the sound of the wind.

Joel’s hand immediately went to the rifle strapped across his back, and you followed his lead, dismounting quietly and crouching beside him.

The whimper came again higher pitched this time, closer.

“Could be a trap,” he murmured.

You nodded, raising your rifle and stepping carefully toward the trees.

There, tangled in a patch of fallen branches, was a dog.

A scrappy, medium-sized mutt, matted fur dusted in snow. She was stuck her back leg caught between branches, paw twisted, tail curled between her legs.

You exhaled softly. “She’s hurt.”

Joel eyed the woods. “Could draw infected.”

“We’re far out. Quiet zone.” You stepped forward.

He sighed. “Y/N—”

“I’m not leaving her.”

He muttered something under his breath, but you could already hear him giving in. He always did, when it came to you.

You knelt beside the dog, murmuring softly, and she stilled, eyes wide and scared. You gently pried the branches off her leg, careful not to tug too hard, and Joel came up beside you with a strip of cloth from his saddlebag.

Once she was free, she limped straight into your arms, trembling.

You looked up at Joel with pleading eyes.

“We can’t just leave her.”

Joel rubbed a hand down his face. “We don’t even know if she’s got anything could be sick, could have fleas—”

“Then we clean her up. I’ll do it. Just… she needs a warm place, Joel.”

He met your eyes. Long pause. Deep sigh.

“Fine.”

Two weeks later, the mutt now named maggie was curled up in front of the fire at your cabin, wearing a knit sweater Ellie insisted on making for her.

Maggie had become a permanent fixture.

Joel pretended to hate it.

“She sheds everywhere,” he’d grumble, brushing dog hair off his flannel.

“She ate half my jerky.”

“She won’t stop followin’ me around.”

But every time you turned around, Joel was sneaking her extra bites of meat at dinner or rubbing behind her ears when he thought you weren’t looking.

One morning, you caught them both napping in his armchair maggie curled in his lap, Joel’s hand resting on her side.

You didn’t say a word. Just smiled to yourself and went back to boiling water for tea.

One night, after you fed maggie and tossed another log on the fire, you settled beside Joel on the couch, your legs draped over his lap.

“She loves you, y’know,” you said, sipping from your mug.

Joel snorted. “She loves whoever feeds her.”

“She follows you even when I’m the one holding the treats.”

He shrugged, not meeting your gaze. “She’s a good dog. Doesn’t bark much. Stays close. Smart.”

You tilted your head. “You’re soft for her.”

Joel grunted. “I’m soft for you. That’s the damn problem.”

Your heart swelled.

He reached over and rested his hand on your thigh, calloused fingers tracing idle shapes. Maggie snored softly by the hearth, and the snow tapped gently against the windowpane.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?”

“For letting me keep her.”

Joel looked at you, eyes warm.

“You could’ve brought home a baby goat, and I’d have found a way to make it work.”

You snorted. “Don’t tempt me.”

He leaned over and kissed your temple. “You keep savin’ things. Dogs. Me. Guess I gotta just keep lettin’ you.”

You smiled and curled into his side, heart full.

Outside, the world was still broken, dangerous.

But in your little cabin with Joel and your scruffy new companion, things finally felt like home.

The moment you scooped the injured dog into your arms on patrol, Joel knew you were going to try and keep it.

Snow dusted your lashes, your breath puffing in the cold air, and the scrappy little mutt whimpered once, then buried her head under your chin like she belonged there.

Joel sighed loudly behind you. “Y/N, c’mon.”

You didn’t look at him. Just kept holding her close, tucking her against your jacket. “She’s freezing. Her paw’s bleeding. I’m not leaving her out here, Joel.”

He muttered something under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me”but he was already pulling off his glove to help wrap the dog’s paw.

“You’re gonna carry her the whole way back to Jackson?” he asked as you gently passed the mutt into his arms while you mounted your horse.

“Yup.”

“And when she pisses all over the couch?”

“She’s a good girl. She won’t.”

“She’s got fleas, I can see her scratchin’ already—”

“We’ll give her a bath.”

“She better not touch my flannel.”

“She’s literally bleeding and you’re worried about a damn shirt?”

He grunted. “That’s my good shirt.”

You rolled your eyes. “You have two shirts, Joel.”

“Exactly. That’s half my wardrobe.”

Back in Jackson, it didn’t take long for Maggie to settle in.

Joel looked at you like you were deranged. “Beans? That’s what you’re callin’ her?”

“It fits. Look at her.”

“I’m lookin’, and I’m seein’ a walking pile of fur that’s gonna destroy my peace.”

But you saw the way he crouched next to her quietly the next morning, offering a few pieces of jerky while muttering, “You better not pee on my boots.”

Maggie loved him immediately.

She followed you, sure but she shadowed Joel. Sat by his side at dinner. Slept curled up outside the bathroom door when he showered. Waited by the window when he went on solo patrol.

You couldn’t help but smile whenever you saw them together.

One week later, you came home from your greenhouse shift to find Joel on the front porch, sitting on the steps with Maggie curled up beside him. His hand was resting on her head, thumb stroking just behind her ear in slow, easy circles.

You crossed your arms with a smirk. “You sure you don’t like her?”

Joel looked up, deadpan. “She ain’t my dog.”

“She literally follows you to the outhouse.”

“She’s your responsibility,” he grumbled, standing. “You better brush her, clean up after her, keep her outta my socks”

“Uh huh,” you interrupted, grinning. “But who gave her a bite of his sandwich today?”

“She was starin’ at me like I kicked her damn puppy.”

“She is the puppy.”

He huffed.

“Say it,” you teased.

“Say what?”

“You like her.”

“I tolerate her.”

“You love her.”

He narrowed his eyes, stepping close. “I love you, sweetheart. That dog? Jury’s still out.”

But then Maggie trotted up beside him, bumping her head against his leg, and he reached down without thinking to scratch behind her ears.

You caught it the barely-audible murmur as he looked down at her:

“There’s my girl.”

You gasped. “Joel Miller!”

“What?” he barked, already flustered.

“You do love her!”

“I was talkin’ to you,” he said gruffly, stepping around you to head inside.

You followed him in, laughing.

“You weren’t!”

“I was. You’re my girl.”

Maggie trotted after him, tail wagging.

“Then what does that make her?” you teased.

He turned, arching an eyebrow with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. She’s my girl too. You happy now?”

You stood in the kitchen doorway, smiling like sunshine. “The happiest.”

Joel looked at the two of you one sunshine-faced, the other scruffy and wagging and shook his head with the softest smile.

“God help me,” he muttered, pulling you into his arms. “I’m outnumbered.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“No,” he said quietly. “Guess I wouldn’t.”

Later that night, Maggie snored softly at the foot of your bed. Joel was brushing your hair out of your face with calloused fingers, eyes already heavy with sleep.

“Love you,” you murmured.

His hand paused for a second before resuming.

“Love you more, darlin’. You and your damn dog.”

You grinned.

His damn dog, now.

[dark-fanfics-moon]

THE PET Remmick x Reader

Part 2

Synopsis: You try to stay sane as Remmick attempts to make you warm up to him. But…will it work ?

(This is my first Sinners fanfic. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Also, you have French ancestry here.)

Part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/dark-fanfics-moon/783014726264291328/the-pet-remmick-x-reader?source=share

Remmick’s eyes glinted as he watched you intently, the corners of his lips curling into a wicked grin. He was enjoying every second of this—the power, the control he had over you. It made your skin crawl, but you were too tired, too broken to protest.

You shivered and asked, “Why didn’t you kill me ?”

The vampire’s expression darkened for a moment, but the smirk never fully left his face. He stepped closer, his cold fingers brushing your cheek. “I ain’t gonna kill you, lass,” he said with a slow, deliberate drawl. “I told ye: yer mine now. And I don’t break me toys. I like to play with ’em first. Maybe get a lil’ love, ye know ?”

A chill ran through you at the thought of being his “plaything.” The very idea of it made your blood run cold, but there was no denying the hunger in his eyes. That unspoken desire, mixed with a twisted sense of affection, filled you with dread. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Why take me ?” You finally dared to ask.

Remmick leaned back, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, before he answered with a hint of something like nostalgia. “Difference between me hive and humans is… we ain’t really all that warm. Don’t get me wrong, I love me family. But hum…I discovered I liked keepin’ warm ones too. They make good companions on the road and can keep us safe during the day…”

Fear twisted in your gut as the realization hit. You’d heard the myths, the whispers about vampires keeping humans as pets, but never in your wildest nightmares did you think you’d end up as one. It was all too real now, and the terrifying truth was sinking in deeper with each word.

The vampire chuckled darkly, as if enjoying the look of horror in your eyes. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll keep ye fed and safe…but I gotta warn ye…life with me will be different than what you’re used to. I ain’t like anythin’ y’ever experienced.”

You felt a sick mixture of terror and curiosity. You knew the life he had planned for you would be nothing short of a nightmare, but there was a strange thrill in the thought of living on the fringes of society—living a life so twisted that others would never imagine it. Still, you tried to cling to whatever shred of normalcy you could.

“Could I write to my brother on occasion ? To let him know that I am alive ?” you asked, hoping for some semblance of freedom.

The vampire paused, his red eyes calculating as he considered your request. “I suppose I could allow that. But no more than once every few weeks. And I’ll read every word ye write. I don’t need ye tellin’ someone where we are.”

You let out a small, relieved breath, at least a tiny victory amidst the horror.

Remmick smirked, amused by the display of sheer relief. “Now…Don’t get too excited, darlin’. I’m still in charge here. And I expect yer complete obedience in exchange for these lil’ niceties.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate. “I understand…”

“That’s a smart lass,” Remmick approved before he pointed a finger at you. “Yer learnin’ already. I think yer gonna be a fast learner—unlike me other pets.”

He stepped away, sizing you up with a calculating look before continuing. “Now that we’re on the same page…it’s probably a good idea to go over some house rules.”

You felt your stomach twist in dread at the thought of following his rules, but you knew you had no choice. With a hesitant nod, you gestured for him to continue.

Remmick leaned back with a wicked grin. “First rule: You do what I say without question. If I say jump, you ask ‘how high.’ If I say kneel, you hit the ground. Understand, darlin’ ?”

You clenched your jaw, suppressing the anger bubbling up inside, but you nodded reluctantly. “I understand. I’ll do whatever you say.”

He smirked approvingly. “Good. Second rule: Yer my responsibility. Which means, I don’t want ye goin’ off on yer own. Everywhere ye go, I’m there with ya. You ain’t goin’ nowhere without me permission, got that ?”

Your brow furrowed. “How about during the day ?”

He chuckled again and shook his head. “Oh darlin’…You’re adorable. During the day, ye go nowhere. Ye watch while I rest. You’re goin’ to be stayin’ with me. That means no goin’ to town, no goin’ to church. Just sittin’ tight until night falls again.”

His smirk deepened. “But if ye get bored ? You can always be buddies with the other pets of the hive ! Wouldn’t that be nice ? Besides, we’ll need ye to move us when the sun is out. But don’t worry. The other pets will show ye how it’s done.”

A wave of helplessness swept over you, but you knew there was no point in protesting. You nodded again. “I understand.”

“Good. Yer really catchin’ on quick,” he said, clearly pleased. “Third rule: Ye don’t put up a fight. I ain’t in the habit of wastin’ me precious time and energy on stubborn pets. If I ask ye to do something that makes you unhappy ? Well, you’ll do it anyways. Yer gonna follow me rules, and the rules of the hive, even if it makes you angry.”

You bit your lip to keep from speaking, from snapping at him. You knew better. “I understand. I won’t give you any trouble.”

Remmick smiled, pleased with your compliance. “That’s what I like to hear. Fourth rule: Ye don’t say no to me. Ever. If I want yer blood, I take it. If I want yer company, I take it. If I want ye in bed with me as a damn cushion fer me head ? I’m doin’ that as well. No complainin’, no fightin’, no refusin’, no resistin’ or anythin’ else along those lines, m’kay pet ?”

You shuddered at that despicable word. ‘Pet’. But you nodded nonetheless, unable to do anything else.

Remmick continued, his tone turning more serious. “If I tell ye to do somethin’, you do it. No ifs, ands, or buts. You’ll keep me hunger satisfied and do whatever I want, when I want.”

You scoffed, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice this time. “Didn’t know I had a vampire toddler on my hands.”

Remmick’s grin widened, but there was something predatory in his eyes now and drool fell from his chin. “Mouthy, are we ? Fine by me. You’ll learn real quick, darlin’. Real quick.”

You shuddered at the sight and looked away prompty. He seemed to understand your discomfort and sighed before wiping his chin. He then realised that his clothes were still soaked in blood. He got his shirt and undershirt off before throwing them at you.

"Wash those."

You looked at the blood there and your whole body shivered at the realisation that it might be your own father’s blood on those clothes. You let them fall on the floor. You couldn’t help but shudder, the sickening thought creeping into your mind that this could very well be your father’s blood—the man you’d just buried.

Your hands trembled, and a cold sweat broke out along your skin as the room seemed to close in on you. The reality of everything—your father’s death, the way you were now under Remmick’s control—felt too much to bear all at once. The blood on those clothes felt like it was crawling up your spine, a silent reminder of what you had lost.

Remmick’s voice broke through your panic, calm and detached. “Well, what’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ ? Get to it.”

You swallowed hard, your body stiffening at his words. The last thing you wanted to do was touch that blood, to remind yourself of the violence that had ripped your life apart. But you knew better than to refuse. You didn’t have a choice. You bent down slowly, gathering the clothes from the floor, trying to keep your composure. The blood seemed to burn your fingertips as you picked them up, but you forced yourself to hold onto them. It was just another part of this twisted new life Remmick had made for you—one you were still trying to make sense of.

With a quick, stiff nod, you turned away, heading towards the exit of the trailer. The cool air hit your face as you made your way to the nearby stream, the rhythmic sound of rushing water offering little comfort against the storm of emotions swelling inside you. You kneeled at the edge of the stream, the bloodstained clothes still clutched tightly in your hands.

As the cold water touched the fabric, your sobs began to escape, raw and uncontrollable. Each tear felt heavier than the last, like it was pulling you deeper into the darkness of what had become your reality. The blood didn’t just stain the clothes—it stained your soul, a constant reminder of the horrors you could never unsee. Your father, the village, everything you’d once known, all shattered in an instant.

The water seemed to mock you, its gentle flow unable to wash away the heaviness in your chest, the memories, the fear, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness. The clothes slipped from your trembling fingers as you cried harder, the water barely able to cleanse the stains on your hands, let alone the ones buried deep inside you.

You wanted to scream, to run far away from everything. But where would you go ? What would you do ? Remmick’s shadow loomed over you, both a constant presence and an ever-present threat, and you had nowhere to turn. You sank to your knees, your body shaking as you held the bloodied fabric to your chest. The stream, though it tried, couldn’t carry away the burden you were now bound to. And yet, here you were, sobbing in the cold, wishing for something—anything—to make it stop.

…

Once the task complete, you approached the carriage and the faint, haunting sound of Remmick’s banjo drifted through the air. The low, rhythmic plucking of strings mixed with the night’s silence, the eerie melody fitting in with the dark weight of the evening. His dark eyes glinted as he played, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked up briefly, catching sight of you.

The sound of his banjo was a strange comfort, but it didn’t ease the dread pooling in your stomach. The blood still clung to your memory, even though you had washed it from the clothes. It was impossible to wash the images from your mind.

He didn’t speak immediately, as if waiting for you to say something first. You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. You swallowed hard, trying to keep the tremble from your voice as you spoke.

“…I’ve done what you asked.” Your words felt empty, hollow in the air between you.

Remmick’s smirk deepened, though it was softer now, more amused than predatory. “Did ye now ?” He set the banjo aside and stood. “I’m glad to see ye’ve come back. Thought I might’ve lost ya to the night.” He stepped closer to you, his presence, as always, dominating the space. He then added with a grin. “Woulda hated havin’ to chase you all night, puppet. But am fast. Hella fast. Ye wouldn’t have made it through the night.”

He then playfully pinched your nose and smirked before taking the clothes from your arms.

You couldn’t help but flinch, the memory of his cold blood-soaked chin still fresh in your mind. “I did what you wanted,” you repeated, the words somehow a bit stronger now, despite the gnawing fear inside you. “Now what ?”

“Now, I’d say we take the next step. But before that…” He leaned closer, his voice low, “You’ve been through quite a bit tonight, haven’t ya ?” He reached for your arm, his touch light but firm, pulling you gently inside the carriage. “Come on in. We family now, ain’t we ?”

The chill from outside still lingered in your bones as you stepped into the warmth of the carriage.

“Family…” you muttered under your breath, feeling the weight of the word like a cold iron shackle around your heart.

He then tapped the place on his knee.

"C’mere me puppet."

You froze.

His voice was gentle—mockingly so—but the command behind it was unmistakable. “C’mere me puppet.” He repeated. The words laced with false affection, like a hunter calling to a wounded animal. Your eyes flicked to his knee, where his hand patted expectantly, and then up to his face. That smug, knowing smirk never wavered. Every inch of your body screamed at you to run, to escape, to do anything but obey. But your legs moved before your mind could catch up, conditioned now by fear, by exhaustion, by the brutal reality of your new existence.

You stepped closer.

Remmick’s eyes followed your every movement, his eyes dark and gleaming with twisted satisfaction. You lowered yourself slowly, tentatively, onto his knee, barely touching him. He laughed softly, almost like a purr, one hand snaking around your waist to pull you in tighter—until you were perched fully across his lap, your side pressed against his chest.

“There we go,” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your face with a tenderness that only made your skin crawl. “See how easy that was ?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The weight of his gaze pressed down on you, making your mouth go dry.

He studied you for a moment, his thumb running idle circles along your side. Then he leaned in, nose brushing your cheek, his breath cold and smelling faintly of iron. “I ain’t gonna hurt ye tonight,” he whispered. “Not unless you make me. You’ve had enough, haven’t ya ?”

You nodded, barely able to breathe.

He chuckled. “That’s my good lil’ lassie.”

Your stomach churned.

Then, to your surprise, he didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned back into the plush seat, arms still around you, his banjo resting against the opposite wall like a discarded thought. You remained frozen. For a moment—just a moment—you let yourself breathe and listen. To the soft sway of the carriage from the blowing wind outside, the horses’ hooves trampling the ground, the dull thrum of blood in your ears. You couldn’t trust him. You wouldn’t trust him. But as your body sank involuntarily into the exhaustion gnawing at you, and as his hand stroked your hair absentmindedly, you realized:

This was your life now.

And you would have to survive it. Even if it meant pretending to be his puppet…for now.

He then whispered in your ear. “Sleepy, puppet ? You can rest yer eyes fer a few minutes. I’ll watch over ye.”

You were too exhausted to deny and simply closed your eyes…falling into a light sleep.

A few minutes later…Remmick woke you up and led you out of the carriage. The carriages were nestled together in a circle, their wooden exteriors glowing faintly in the moonlight, casting long shadows across the ground. You could hear the soft murmur of voices, a mixture of laughter and whispered conversations, though it was clear this was no ordinary gathering.

“Don’t be scared, doll,” Remmick’s voice purred as he guided you forward. The scent of burning wood and fresh night air mixed together in an unsettling blend.

There, standing in the center of the gathering, were the other “pets”—humans, like you, who had been taken by the vampires. They were dressed in strange, mismatched clothes, most of them looking weary but oddly content. Some were sitting by the fire, a few leaning against the side of a carriage, while others were interacting with the vampires in a way that, to you, felt disturbingly normal. They all seemed so…comfortable in this twisted existence.

One of them, a young woman with wide eyes and a soft smile, stood up as you approached. She wore a simple dress, but there was an aura of weariness around her, as if she had long accepted her fate. Her voice was soft but welcoming when she spoke.

“Remmick’s new one, huh ?” she asked, looking you up and down with a curious gaze. “I’m Lyla,” she introduced herself, extending a hand towards you. “Annie’s familiar. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. We all do eventually.”

You looked at her hand for a moment, your stomach turning. How could anyone get used to this ? You had seen the blood, smelled it. Felt the weight of it on your skin. You had seen what Remmick was capable of.

You didn’t take her hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she withdrew it with a soft chuckle, not offended. “You’re still fresh,” she murmured understandingly. “It’ll take time.”

Another figure stepped forward—tall, with sharp features and a quiet presence. His eyes were dull, as if the life had been drained from them long ago. He nodded at you but said nothing. You could feel the weight of his gaze, cold and distant. He looked like someone who had long since given up on hope.

“Don’t mind Aidan,” Lyla said softly. “He doesn’t speak much. He was one of the first brought in. He’s Stack’s familiar.” She glanced at you knowingly, her eyes narrowing. “Some of us don’t last as long as others. Don’t let that scare you.”

You swallowed hard, looking at each face in turn. They were all different, but the same in their quiet acceptance of a life they hadn’t chosen. Their eyes were haunted, but resigned.

“You’ll get used to the rules around here too,” Lyla continued, her tone more serious now. “Stick close to Remmick. Don’t step out of line. Don’t make waves. He’s not one to take kindly to disobedience.”

You felt a pang of fear, the weight of her words sinking in. You had already witnessed how quickly things could spiral out of control. Remmick’s smile, his twisted pleasure in your discomfort, still lingered in your mind. But there was something else too. A strange attachment, an odd affection from him that made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite place.

You looked around. Remmick had stepped away momentarily, talking to another vampire who had appeared from one of the nearby carriages. The moment he was out of earshot, Lyla leaned closer, her eyes darkening slightly.

“You’ll be fine,” she whispered. “He likes you. That means he’ll keep you around. But just remember—you’re a possession, not a person here. Never forget that.”

You wanted to protest, wanted to scream, but all you could do was nod weakly. In this strange, twisted hive of vampires and their pets, what else could you do ?

You were trapped.

Lyla’s words rang in your ears like a dull bell tolling in the distance—ominous and final.

A possession, not a person.

You stood there, surrounded by strangers who shared the same chain, the same fate, their expressions dulled by time and routine. You didn’t want to believe this was your life now. But as you looked around the circle—at the flickering firelight casting grotesque shadows across tired faces—you knew it was.

You were still staring at the fire when Remmick’s arm slithered back around your waist.

“There now, doll,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low and sweet, like poisoned honey. “They treat ye alright ?”

You didn’t answer at first, the tension in your shoulders betraying every thought racing through your mind. But then you nodded, barely, your lips pressed into a thin line.

Remmick smiled, pleased. “Good. I knew you’d blend in just fine. Some don’t take to it well—always fightin’, cryin’, refusin’ to listen. Makes it messy. Makes me messy.”

He turned you gently toward him, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand, eyes lingering a little too long. “But yer different, aintcha ? Got fire, but ye know when to keep it on low.”

The words made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself not to pull away. Behind him, Lyla had already moved on, settling down beside Aidan again.

“You’ll sleep with me tonight,” Remmick said casually, as if announcing the weather. “Best to keep ye close. First few days are always the hardest.”

A sharp chill twisted through your spine.

He leaned in again, lowering his voice. “Don’t worry, puppet. I’ll take good care of ye. I won’t bite—unless you ask me real nicely that is.”

There was laughter nearby. A low cackle from one of the other vampires watching from the shadows. It made you flinch, and Remmick chuckled at that, turning you with a firm hand and guiding you back towards his carriage. As you stepped away from the fire, the sounds behind you grew muffled, as though the world itself was slowly sealing you in.

You glanced back only once.

Lyla was watching you, her smile gone now, her eyes sharp with a kind of knowing pity. You weren’t sure what she saw when she looked at you—maybe someone who reminded her of herself. Or maybe it was just the face of despair.

Your eyes caught sight of the fire burning bright next and you stopped. The fire crackled, its orange and red flames dancing in the cool night air, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the vampires and their pets. The flickering flames seemed to beckon to you, promising an end to all the horror, the fear, and the suffocating uncertainty that had plagued you since the night Remmick had taken you.

You wondered how long it would take for the fire to consume you if you simply stepped into it. Would it be fast ? Would it hurt as much as you thought it would ? Or would it be a final release—a way to escape this twisted life once and for all ?

The flames roared in response to your thoughts, each crackle like a whisper of temptation. You felt the heat on your skin, the air thick with the scent of burning wood, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade. The others—Lyla, Aidan, and the rest of the pets—became distant, like figures in a fog. All that remained was the fire, and the suffocating weight of your own despair.

But as you stood there, frozen in your thoughts, you heard Remmick’s voice—low, mocking, but tinged with something darker.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout jumpin’ in, are ye ?” he asked, his tone playful. “That ain’t gonna get ye what you want, lass. Ain’t no release in that. I told ya, yer mine now. And I don’t take kindly to me toys tryin’ to break themselves.”

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, reading you, studying you.

“You think this fire can end it all ?” he continued, his voice calm but menacing. “Nah. It’ll just burn ye up. And then where will ya be ? Gone. Just like that. Poof. A pile of ashes. Useless to me. Useless to everyone.”

You didn’t look at him. You felt something twist inside you—anger, frustration, and the overwhelming weight of your helplessness. But you didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You couldn’t.

He stepped closer and slowly backed you away from the fire.

“Instead,” he cooed, “let’s see how long you last in me world, eh ?”

You shuddered, the desire for escape still lingering in your chest, but now you knew. The fire wouldn’t set you free. Remmick, in his twisted way, held that power over you. And whether you wanted to or not, you were stuck playing by his rules. The fire no longer looked like an escape. It looked like surrender. And he saw it. Remmick saw everything—your hesitation, your pain, the spark of rebellion trying to stay lit beneath the weight of fear. He fed off it. It thrilled him.

His hand slid slowly up your arm, deceptively gentle, but there was nothing kind in his grip. It was a warning.

“I’ll say it again, sweet thing,” he murmured, almost tenderly, but his breath was ice. “Don’t break yourself. That’s me job if it comes to it.”

You finally looked at him, really looked. The firelight made his face seem inhuman—shadows twisted across his sharp features, accentuating the unnatural stillness in his eyes. And yet…there was something feral in him, something restrained. A hunger barely tucked beneath that silken voice and practiced odd charm.

He was beautiful in the same way a tiger might be—impressive, powerful, deadly.

“What if I want to step into the fire and end it all ?” You asked and Remmick stayed silent for a moment before humming.

“You want to be ashes ?” he whispered, thumb brushing your jaw. “Who said ye were allowed to ? Have ye already forgotten about our lil’ rules ? Yer me responsibility, pet. And I would be real sad if you decided to deprive me of yer lovely company. And ye wouldn’t want me sad now, would ya ?"”

You jerked your face from his hand. Subtle, but he noticed. His smile curled into something crooked, pleased.

“Still got fight in ye. Good. Now, c’mon, pet. You’ve had yer moment. Let’s get ye warm somewhere else.”

You stared after him, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest as you stared at his back.

When the time came…You would burn him down to hell.

…

A few minutes before sunrise:

Without a word, Remmick took out heavy iron shackles, cold against your skin as he fastened them to your wrists, attaching them to the sturdy post of the carriage. The act was casual for him—like a routine he had done countless times before. Once the shackles were secure, he stepped back, admiring his work, his smirk wide. “Now, don’t go anywhere, darlin’. I’ll be back after me lil’ nap,” he told you, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though it still held that chilling undertone that made your blood run cold.

He then opened the lid of a box situated at the back of the trailer with a quiet, eerie creak. He glanced back at you, a final, mocking smile spreading across his face. “You’ll be safe here for the day, lass. Don’t try anythin’ funny. I’ll be right back when the sun sets again.”

Then, without another word, he climbed into the box, closing the lid with a dull thud that reverberated in the silence around you. You were left alone, shackled to the carriage, the stillness of the morning pressing in around you. The only sound was the faint rustle of the wind through the trees. You sighed. You weren’t going to resign yourself to this fate. You were going to find a way to escape. Maybe not today, but you weren’t going to just give in to this life. Remmick might have had the upper hand for now, but you weren’t going to let him completely break you. Not without a fight.

You closed your eyes for a moment, steeling yourself. Whatever came next, you’d be ready. Or at least, you’d try.

Lyla’s footsteps were soft as she approached and broke you out of your thoughts, the sound of her shoes on the grass muffled by the stillness of the morning. She came into view with a tray of food in her hands. She set the tray down in front of you, her hands gently brushing over the shackles as if she could somehow will them to vanish. Her gaze lingered on them for a moment, a silent understanding passing between you before she finally spoke.

“Don’t you worry, hon’. Remmick’s not cruel like this all the time,” she tried to reassure you, her voice low and comforting. “He’s just cautious. But, when he starts trusting you, he won’t keep you shackled anymore. I promise. It was the same when Annie chose me. She had to make sure I wouldn’t do anything to harm the hive.”

You looked up at her and almost laughed. How could someone like Remmick ever trust anyone ? And what did it even mean for you to be trusted by something like him ? You might as well sell your soul…Still, Lyla’s words offered you hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to change things. You looked inside the tray—bread, a few vegetables, and something that resembled meat, though you didn’t care to question the source.

Lyla smiled softly. “He’s not as bad as he seems. He just…needs to control things. If you show him you’re not a threat, he’ll ease up. He always did with the others eventually.”

You looked up at her. “What happened to them ? To the…other people he took as pets before me ?”

She smiled. “He turned most of them since they wanted to become vampires. He just had to wait to make sure they were ready and deserved to be part of the family.”

You knew you would regret asking—but still asked next. “What about those he didn’t turn ?”

At that, her smile faltered slightly. She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Maybe she didn’t know and preferred not to. Or maybe she did and didn’t want to frighten you. Either way, you knew you didn’t want whatever fate came to those who disappointed Remmick.

Lyla’s gaze flickered to the carriage where Remmick had gone to rest. “Don’t worry. You’re strong. You’ll survive. I can see it in you. You can adapt—you can change. He likes people who can surprise him. Just…don’t let him get bored. I know it sounds crazy but….Remmick is a very simple man and he likes very simple things. Family, music, passion…He is very passionate. He won’t kill you as long as he can still sense passion inside you.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe it was the weariness of everything, or maybe the fear that had taken root deep inside you. But for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to feel something other than dread—something faint, but growing stronger with each passing moment: the smallest spark of defiance.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to be anyone’s pet—especially not his.”

Lyla’s eyes softened. “I know. But it’s not always about what we want, darling. It’s about survival. If you’re going to make it out of here with your soul intact, you have to play the game. You’ll see.”

You didn’t know if she was right. But you also didn’t know what else to do. You finally nodded. Lyla’s words echoed in your mind long after she left, the tray of food untouched by your feet. Play the game. That was what she said. You huffed and started eating.

You want to play Remmick ?

Fine.

Let’s play…

…

That evening:

You stared at the shackles on your wrists, the metal now warming slightly under the sun’s slow crawl through the trees. Every second Remmick slept in that box was one step closer to sunset, and the nightmare resuming. But you couldn’t sit here all day waiting. Not without trying something. The others were beginning to stir. You could hear distant murmurs—other “pets,” as they were so disgustingly called—moving about the camp. A laugh. A cough. The subtle noise of life continuing under the weight of captivity. And none of them tried to run.

Not because they didn’t want to. But because they knew better. But you didn’t know better. Not yet. And maybe, just maybe, that was your advantage.

You leaned forward, testing the slack in the chain. There wasn’t much. Just enough to sit upright, shift your position, maybe stand if you were careful. It was designed to humiliate—not to break your body, but to chip away at your will. And yet…something was off. One of the links near the post looked slightly thinner than the others—worn, maybe, or badly forged. You stared at it for a long time, then tucked the thought away like a blade hidden in cloth. Not yet. Not now.

You needed more than broken metal to escape. You needed a plan. A weapon. A place to run to. And someone willing to help. The thought of Lyla returned. Her sorrow. Her softness. She hadn’t just brought you food. She brought you a warning, disguised as comfort. He always eases up. But only if you stop being a threat. If you become…tame. But you would never be tame. You just had to look it. That’s how you’d survive. That’s how you’d earn his trust.

And then, when the moment was right…You would stop playing the game. You would end it. But, Lyla had also said not to bore him…You wondered how to do that ? So far, the only moments he had seemed to enjoy himself were moments when you had tried to defy him. Was that what he wanted ? Was that something he enjoyed ? Suddenly, the lid from the box went off inside the trailer and there he was.

He smiled at you.

“Here ye are, me dolly !”

You stiffened as Remmick’s voice reached your ears, the smooth Irish drawl dripping with a mixture of amusement and something darker. Your gaze remained fixed ahead, pretending not to notice that he was awake. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. You tried to step away, but the chain tugged at your wrist, the weight of your situation pulling you back into his grasp.

Before you could make any further attempt to retreat, his hand shot out and seized your arm, his grip firm as he forced you closer. You looked up at him—eyes cold, face set in a mask of defiance, though your pulse betrayed you.

His smirk widened, knowing exactly how you were trying to keep your distance.

“Hey, me pet. Miss me ?” he teased, the edge of his voice as sharp as the fangs that were hiding behind that grin. However, he frowned at your answer.

“No,” you muttered firmly.

After a moment, he chuckled softly, tightening his grip as he stepped even closer. “Aw, don’t be like that, darling. I can feel it. Yer just a bit shy, aintcha ? But don’t worry, I’ll warm ye up.”

His voice made your skin crawl.

“Let go of me,” you demanded, glaring up at him.

Remmick’s eyes twinkled with malicious amusement as he slowly dragged you closer, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. “Now, now. Calm down, me pet. What’s gotten into ya ? Ye were so sweet last night. What made ya suddenly so hostile towards yer poor master, hmm ?” His smile widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light.

The suffocating heat of his presence filled the space between you, and every instinct in your body screamed to break free—to run. But the chain held you in place, and for all the words you could muster, there was nothing you could do but meet his gaze, steely and unyielding.

The vampire’s grin never faltered as he leaned towards you. “C’mon…Tell me, pet. Tell yer Master Remmick what happened and maybe he’ll be able to help ? I’ll make it go away.”

He sat you down on his lap, the cold, hard surface of his body pressing against you. He waited for an answer but got none and sighed. He then decided to grab his banjo. You were being cranky and he sought to soften you up with a bit of music.

“Sing,” he commanded, his voice soft but laced with expectation.

You stared back at him, defiant. “No.”

The vampire’s smile slowly faded, replaced by a low growl of displeasure. “Don’t push it, darlin’. I’m tryin’ to be nice. I ain’t used to puttin’ up with a disobedient doll fer more than a few nights.”

You huffed, your denial burning even brighter. “I wonder why…”

You were determined to test boundaries and see just how far you could go.

His eyes narrowed, the playful glint vanishing, replaced by something colder and darker. “I ain’t askin’ fer much, darlin’. Just a bit of obedience, a lil’ cooperation. Is that really so damn hard for ye to understand ?”

You stared back at him, your gaze hard. “Yes, ‘master’…or whatever…”

He chuckled, his lips curling into a smirk, amusement taking over his annoyance. “Don’t get cheeky with me, darlin’. I ain’t playin’ that game. You belong to me now. You’ll call me ‘sir’ or ‘master’ in public. And in private ? Well…You’ll call me whatever I tell ye to—like a good lil’ well-behaved pet should.”

You raised an eyebrow, a challenge in your gaze. “What now ? What should I call you ? Remmick ? Or was that just a fake name you gave me for the fun of it ?”

His lips twitched. “Remmick’s fine. But if ye ever feel the urge to get affectionate, ye can call me—”

You rolled your eyes, your patience thinning and cut him off. “Not interested.”

Some of the vampires who had just woken up started laughing or growling nearby. And some of the pets were actually horrified or in shock at your sudden defiance. You huffed. If Remmick wanted to get rid of you ? Then he might as well do it. But you were done being his nice little pet. You didn’t want his caresses or treats or anything else. You glanced around at the vampires nearby, your mouth curling into a sneer. “Bloodsucking fuckers.”

The other vampires snarled and bared their fangs, but Remmick’s smirk never faltered. With a commanding growl, he spoke to them. “Back off. Me pet seems moody tonight. Ain’t yer problem.”

The others instantly backed down, understanding who held the true power. His attention returned to you.

You scoffed, your words dripping with disdain as you dared to reply. “…Fuck you, demon.”

But instead of getting mad, Remmick chuckled at your curses, but his amusement was quickly replaced by a more dangerous edge. “Now, don’t ye use that nasty language when speakin’ to me, darlin’. I don’t like it when ye swear.”

You shot him a glare and then flipped him off, your determination unyielding. He didn’t like your curses ? Good. You wanted him to hate you. If he thought you would graciously offer your belly and submit—he had another thing coming.

His expression darkened, his grip tightening around you as his tone turned colder. “I’m givin’ ye a warnin’. Don’t push me. Especially if ye like yer fingers.”

Reluctantly, you lowered your middle finger, your rebellious streak still strong but you did like your fingers. “Sorry. It’s genetic. A human thing.” You grinned, clearly enjoying the small victory.

Remmick rolled his eyes, not buying your excuse for a second. “Sure, darlin’.”

Then his expression shifted to something playful again, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ye know what ? I got one of those habits too. A vampire thing. Ready ?”

Before you could respond, he lifted you with ease and threw you into the air. You screamed, panic rising as your body went up in the air and fell towards the ground. But in a flash, Remmick caught you, his arms wrapping around you just inches before you hit the ground. He laughed, his deep voice vibrating through your body as he held you.

“First time catchin’ a flyin’ human. Ready fer another round, darlin’ ?”

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your heart racing. “No, no, no, no… Don’t you dare !”

He simply smirked, clearly relishing the fear in your voice. “Oh, darlin’…”

Before you could protest further, he tossed you in the air again. You screamed, your fear turning into pure panic.

“YOU ASSHOLE !” you yelled, your body twisting mid-air as you waited for him to catch you again, the blood pounding in your ears.

The vampire’s laughter echoed in your ears, a chilling sound that seemed to enjoy every moment of his entertaining game. “Don’t whine now, darlin’. Yer gonna be doin’ a lot of flyin’ with me.”

He caught you again, a smirk playing on his lips at your heart pounding in your chest and as you literally clung to him with both arms and legs. “Now that I know you’re afraid of heights, I’m gonna be takin’ ye higher and higher every chance I get…”

You screamed as he effortlessly loosened your hold on him and tossed you once more, the world spinning around you. “You’re gonna end up breaking my bones if you keep doin’ this, you idiot !”

His laughter rang louder, more sinister. “Just gettin’ ye used to the sensation, darlin’…This is gonna be yer life from now on, I’m afraid…and I’m gonna relish every scream you make.”

By the time he finally stopped, you were shaking, your breath coming in short bursts. You could feel the adrenaline still rushing through your veins, your body stiff with fear.

“Please…stop.” You finally begged and held him tightly—breathing heavily against his neck as you tried not to vomit. One of your hand was almost digging into his head and the other in his shoulder as you desperately tried to stop him from throwing you up in the air again. “I’ll stop being rude…just please. No more of this or I will die. My heart will stop.”

Remmick smirked at the plea in your voice and knew that he had won. He relented, a smug expression curling across his face. “Oh, fine…fer now. I’ll save the torture fer later.”

You were left panting, your body trembling from the shock of the repeated tosses. The world still spun around you as you clung to his neck, trying to catch your breath. Remmick’s chuckles were dark, rumbling from deep within his chest, but he finally set you down gently on the ground, his fingers lingering on your skin, just in case you would fall straight to the ground.

“Aww…What’s wrong, lassie ? Can’t handle a lil’ uppies session ?” He taunted you with a smirk full of smug satisfaction.

You glared at him, still trying to steady yourself, but your voice was hoarse. “You’re a monster…”

His smirk never faltered. “Oh, darlin’, you don’t even know the half of it.”

The other vampires who’d been watching, their fangs still bared and their expressions twisted in varying degrees of hunger and amusement, slowly started to step back, their interest in you fading as Remmick regained control over the situation.

Lyla, who had been hovering in the background, stepped forward, her expression a mixture of concern and quiet resignation. She glanced at you, her eyes softening with sympathy. “Master Remmick, please, do not push her too hard. It has only been a couple of nights. She just…”

He shot her a warning look, his gaze dark and challenging. “She’ll learn. She has to. Now get back to your own master, lassie. Annie must be wonderin’ where ye went.”

Lyla sighed, shaking her head. She shot you one last glance before stepping back. “Stay strong,” she whispered under her breath, and then disappeared into the shadows—back to her own master.

Once she was gone, Remmick returned his attention to you.

“Let’s get one thing straight, darlin’,” he said, his tone dark and serious. “Ye belong to me now. You’ll get used to it, and you’ll like it eventually. This isn’t some game. This is yer life now.”

You clenched your fists, the rage within you bubbling to the surface once more. “You’re wrong. I won’t get used to this. I won’t ever like it.”

Remmick stepped closer, his face inches from yours. His eyes were cold, but there was something in them—a dark amusement, mixed with the weight of authority—that made your stomach churn.

“Oh, darlin’, you’ll come around,” he whispered with a smirk. “You’ll see.”

His words echoed in your mind, chilling you to the bone. You weren’t sure if he actually believed what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t let him win. You couldn’t.

…

For the next few nights, you remained shackled to Remmick’s trailer. Every so often, Remmick would appear, casually strolling in with an eerie sense of satisfaction, bearing a new gift.

At first, it was a brooch—delicate, intricately designed, and clearly stolen from a victim. Its dark, weathered beauty sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to acknowledge it. His eyes would gleam with pride as he presented the object to you.

“Ye like it, don’t ya, darlin’ ? Innit pretty ?” he’d ask, his voice dripping with amusement, though his tone was just a touch of mockery.

You refused to respond, your eyes narrowed, refusing to show any interest. But he didn’t seem to mind; he simply dropped the brooch on the floor in front of you and sauntered off.

The gifts continued: a delicate necklace made of silver and blood-red jewels that looked far too beautiful to have been anything but plundered from a corpse. His eyes would sparkle when he’d hand them over, watching your every move as if waiting for you to break, to show some hint of gratitude, or even just curiosity.

“See, darlin’ ? I know how to treat me special dolls,” he’d croon, always reveling in the sick pleasure of your silent disdain.

Then came the earrings—simple, but elegant. You stared at them for a while, wondering who the unfortunate soul had been. He seemed to take great delight in the thought that you might be considering their origins.

“Ye like those ?” he asked one night, dangling them just out of reach, taunting you. “They’re the best I’ve found so far. Real fine quality.”

You refused to take them, even though the beauty of the jewelry almost tempted you. The thought of touching something that had once belonged to a dead person—and had come from his hands—made your skin crawl.

Every time, you would remain silent. Your response to him was one of defiance, even in the face of his twisted generosity.

And each time, Remmick would leave you alone with the gifts, taunting you with the thought of them being so close, yet so far from your grasp. He knew you wouldn’t accept them, but that was part of his game—the pursuit, the insistence that you would come to him eventually. Despite your anger and resistance, the days wore on, each one blurring together in a haze of unease and fear. You hated the way he was slowly eroding your resolve, bit by bit, with every visit, with every gift. He had a way of wearing you down, his presence so overwhelming and unyielding, it felt as if there was no escape.

But no matter how much he tried to get you to accept his offerings, you refused. You couldn’t let him win. Even if it was only through the smallest acts of defiance, you would resist him—because if you gave in to him, even in the slightest way, it would mean surrendering everything.

“Not taking me gifts, darlin’ ?” he’d ask with a knowing smile when he’d see you leave them untouched. “After all the trouble I suffered to get ‘em and give ‘em to ye ? Am hurt. Truly. But…I suppose we’ll just have to see how long that lasts, won’t we ?”

And you would stare back, your expression hard, but beneath the cool mask of defiance, a part of you wondered how much longer you could keep this up before the weight of your situation would finally break you. For now, though, you held on—clinging to whatever remnants of yourself you had left, despite the chains that bound you, the gifts he left, and the darkness of his presence that slowly began to seep into every corner of your life.

…

A few nights later:

The night had passed in its usual eerie silence until you heard it—an unsettling, low whine that echoed through the walls of the trailer. It wasn’t a sound you expected to hear. You peered inside the trailer—curious. Was that Remmick ? What was going on ? You had heard him do and say many things. But, this was different. His voice was strained, filled with an animalistic desperation, as though he was fighting something internal and out of his control inside his box.

Your curiosity, mingled with a sense of unease, pushed you to your feet. You tugged at the chains reflexively, but there was no escaping the confinement, so you carefully moved towards the box. You hesitated before taking a tiny look, peering inside to find him thrashing, his hands curled into fists as he twisted inside his prison-bed. His face was contorted in pain—something was tormenting him. The usual confident, unnerving smirk that always tugged at his lips was gone. Instead, his mouth was open, letting out animal-like whimpers—like a wounded beast.

You didn’t know what to do. The Remmick you knew was not the type to show weakness. He was always the predator, never the prey. This…this wasn’t like him at all.

You watched for a moment longer, unsure of how to handle the situation. He groaned again, louder this time, and you could hear the desperation in the sound. Your chest tightened as a strange sympathy for him stirred, even though everything inside you screamed that this was wrong. That this was some kind of trick, a manipulation to draw you in, to make you soften towards him.

But as you stood there, uncertain and unsure, the instinct to do something—anything—took over. You sank to the floor in front of the box, your body tense as you rested your palm on the surface of the box. The cool wood felt oddly comforting beneath your fingertips, grounding you in the midst of the strange moment. You could feel the vibrations of his groans through the box, his body still writhing in torment. You didn’t know what kind of nightmare could be twisting him so badly, but you felt compelled to stay. To offer something, anything.

“Remmick ?”

The groaning stopped for a brief moment, and the silence was deafening. Then, just as quickly, he let out another low moan, the agony in his voice palpable. You bit your lip, a wave of uncertainty rushing over you. Hesitating for only a second, you slowly pressed your palm more firmly against the surface of the box, as if somehow, that small gesture could offer him some sort of comfort.

Another groan escaped his lips, this one lower, almost guttural. “No…please…” he mumbled, his voice faint, almost unrecognizable.

…He was clearly scared.

You furrowed your brow, unsure of what to do next. You had no experience with this—no experience with him like this. But some part of you didn’t want to leave him in his suffering, even if it meant putting aside your hatred for a moment. You swallowed hard, barely daring to speak as you repeated his name, this time more firmly. “Remmick, what’s happening ?”

There was no response at first. His groans quieted for a moment, and you almost wondered if you’d imagined the whole thing. But then his voice cracked again, that broken whine slipping from his throat, so much more vulnerable than you had ever heard him.

“I…can’t…” he whimpered, sounding so far removed from the taunting predator you knew him as.

Something inside you shifted—a strange, reluctant empathy for him, despite everything that had happened between you. You weren’t sure if you were doing the right thing, or if this was some kind of trap, but all you could think of was that he was hurting. Whether you liked it or not, you couldn’t just turn your back on him now.

“Hey. Everything’s alright, okay ? You’re safe…” It felt almost ridiculous, offering comfort to a monster like him, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was real.

His body jerked violently inside the box, and for a split second, you thought he might lash out at you, but then he simply collapsed into silence. His breathing was ragged, and you could hear the exhaustion in every breath he took. You didn’t know what to do beyond the simple touch of your hand against the box. But you stayed, waiting for him to regain control, unsure if you should say more. You had never seen Remmick so…human before. And while you would never admit it, that moment made you question everything you thought you knew about him.

And about yourself.

…

The next night, you didn’t speak about what had happened during the day. The flickering flames cast wild shadows as the vampires were all reunited once more around the fire, making the camp look like something out of a fever dream. You could see Remmick, wild and free, dancing with the crowd after they had fed once more. His feet moved with precision, a blur of quick steps that made you pause, staring in awe at the speed and rhythm of his movements.

Irish dance, you realized, the steps so fast they looked like they could fly off his body at any moment. He laughed, a sound so unburdened by malice that it seemed foreign coming from him. It was a joy you hadn’t seen from him before, not in the way it radiated out of him now, his face illuminated by the firelight. For a moment, he looked like the man you had met that night when he came to your village.

You felt a strange tug, a sense of something—maybe longing, maybe curiosity—that pushed you to stay where you were, hidden in the shadows of the trailer. The horses were nearby, their breath steaming in the cold night air, but you were too focused on the memory of his steps to pay much attention to them.

Slowly, and with a hint of hesitation, you began to mimic his movements. At first, it was clumsy, your feet tripping over themselves, each step too wide, too stiff. You had little experience with dancing, much less something as precise and fast as Irish tap dancing. But still, you tried, feeling the rhythm build in you, even if it was a shaky imitation. You smiled to yourself and closed your eyes as your feet started stomping on, tapping and stomping the ground.

You didn’t notice when Remmick stepped out of the firelight circle and moved closer to the trailer—wondering where you had disappeared to.

It wasn’t until you felt the shift in the air—the faintest crackle of energy—that you realized he was watching. You froze, half caught in a step, one foot lifted in midair as your heart skipped. But he didn’t say anything. He simply leaned against the side of the trailer, arms crossed, a small amused smile tugging at his lips. His expression was soft, almost fond, as he observed you. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The fire crackled, sending sparks into the air, but all you could hear was your heartbeat. Remmick didn’t mock you, didn’t tease you, just watched you from the shadows, his eyes flickering with amusement.

You felt a warmth spread in your chest despite the cold night air, a strange sense of camaraderie that you hadn’t expected. There was no mockery, no cruel remark. He was simply there, watching you dance in your own uncoordinated way.

The silence between you both stretched for a while before he finally spoke.

“Havin’ fun, dolly ?” he asked, his tone light, almost teasing but without the usual bite. “Keep at it, and ye might just get the hang of it.”

You blinked, surprised by his comment, and then, without really thinking, you let out a breathless laugh, the tension easing in your shoulders. “I don’t know if that’s true. I feel like I’m tripping over my own damn feet here.”

Remmick pushed himself off the trailer, stepping closer to you—but not too close. Instead, he gave you space, just enough for you to feel his presence but not so much that it was oppressive.

“Ye just need practice, honey,” he told you.

You stood still for a moment, considering his words. The warmth that had blossomed in your chest stayed there, lingering longer than it should have. It was strange—this moment of connection, of unexpected kindness from him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you realize there might be more to him than you’d thought.

For a moment, you didn’t mind that he was watching you. You didn’t mind at all.

Remmick’s grin widened as he stood next to you, his movements sharp and fluid as he proceeded to demonstrate the steps to you. He didn’t rush—he simply showed you, step by step, with the same casual confidence that made him so dangerous and yet, oddly, reassuring.

“First. Foot here,” he instructed, lifting his right foot and placing it firmly on the ground, a steady foundation. “Then here,” he added, guiding his foot to a new position with smooth precision. “Then there,” he finished, completing the step with a flourish.

You watched his feet closely, trying to mirror the movement, your body stiff and unsure. But Remmick was patient. His gaze never left you, and he didn’t smirk or laugh at your clumsy attempt. Instead, he nodded approvingly as you tried to follow his movements.

“Now, faster,” he urged, a glint in his eyes that made you feel both challenged and…oddly encouraged. He demonstrated again, quicker this time, the steps flowing into one another with fluid grace, the sound of his feet striking the ground in perfect rhythm with the pulse of the night. You tried to follow, the movement awkward at first, your feet stumbling over themselves. But there was something in the way he moved, something in the way his confidence made you feel like you could do this too.

“Faster, huh ?” you muttered under your breath, focusing harder as you tried to speed up. It felt like you were tripping over air, but Remmick’s voice was there, soothing as he corrected you with gentle guidance.

“Foot here. Now here. Then there,” he repeated patiently, moving with you, showing you again. The rhythm of his feet became contagious, the beat pulsing through you as you tried again, your feet growing less awkward with every repetition.

The firelight flickered, casting long shadows over the both of you as you danced next to each other, and for a moment, the world outside this moment faded. It was just the two of you—his guidance, the rhythm of the dance, and the strange, unspoken understanding between you.

When you finally moved through the steps without stumbling, he let out a low chuckle, his eyes bright with amusement. “Look at ye, darlin’,” he noted appreciatively, giving you a proud grin. “Ye gettin’ the hang of it pretty good.”

You stopped, breathless but with a grin tugging at your lips, a small but genuine accomplishment simmering in your chest. “You really think ?”

Remmick took a step back, watching you carefully, the soft glow of the firelight outlining his features. He didn’t look like the same man who had teased and mentally tortured you for nights on end…

“Just keep practicing, doll. You’ll be dancing like me in no time,” he promised you and smiled—a genuine smile. There was something warmer to his smile—tender almost.

For a moment, you stayed silent, processing the shift in the air between you two.

“Thanks, Remmick,” you replied softly, offering him a brief smile before returning to your position, eager to try the steps again, more confident this time. He chuckled but didn’t comment, merely crossing his arms and watching as you danced, his eyes following your every move with an approving glint.

“Me thinks we gonna make ye a professional Irish tap dancer in no time, me dolly.”

Remmick’s presence beside you gave you just enough confidence to believe, if only for a moment, that you might actually get it right.

But confidence had its cost.

You lifted your foot for the final tap and stepped just a little too far back. The loose gravel shifted beneath you, and suddenly the ground tilted—the world slipped. You let out a startled gasp, arms flailing as you tried to catch yourself.

Before your body could hit the ground, a firm hand closed around your waist.

In a blur of motion, Remmick pulled you back towards him, your momentum swinging you forward—and instead of stopping, he spun you. Your breath hitched as he guided you in a full circle, your feet barely brushing the ground, his arm secure around your middle as he laughed. The world wheeled past in firelight and sparks and shadows, until he slowed and brought you to a clean, almost theatrical stop. One of his hands found yours without thinking, the other still bracing your back.

For a second, neither of you moved.

You were inches from him, your breath uneven, caught between shock and thrill. His eyes flicked over your face—not mocking, not smug. There was surprise there. Maybe wonder. Maybe...something you didn’t want to name yet.

“You alright there, lassie ?” he murmured and his eyes gave you a quick once-over.

You swallowed, nodding slowly as you caught your breath. “Yeah. Just...missed a step.”

He didn’t let go immediately. Neither did you.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, and this time there was the ghost of a grin on his face.

You laughed, breathless. “Hey. That was gravity and panic, alright ?”

He tilted his head, considering you. “Maybe. But for a moment...ye actually looked happy, lassie.”

That made your heart stutter.

He let go then, slowly, his fingers brushing yours just a second longer than they needed to. He stepped back, but not too far—just enough for air to pass between you again, enough for the moment to settle between you like ash from the fire.

“Let’s try it again,” he said quietly. “This time, I’ll catch ye before ya fall.”

You didn’t doubt that he would.

You steadied yourself, still catching your breath from the unexpected spin, when Remmick took a step back, eyes watching you intently. Then, without warning, he spun on his heel and darted in front of you. You blinked in surprise as he landed squarely in your path, boots tapping a rhythm into the dirt that made the earth seem to thrum beneath him. His shoulders rolled back, chest lifted like a showman stepping onto a stage.

“Alright then, dancer,” he declared, laughter already bubbling in his throat as he then challenged you. “Yer turn now. Let’s see what ye got.”

You hesitated for half a beat, but then your feet moved—on instinct, on rhythm, on the sheer stubborn urge not to be outdone. Gathering the rhythm you’d just learned, you lifted your foot and tapped it out: left foot up then down, right foot up then down, left, right…Then, barely daring, you added the little hop he’d shown you. The gravel under your boots crunched in time, sparks from the fire catching the movement of your feet. You stomped the beat he’d taught you, mimicking the steps as best you could, moving forward even as he matched you, step for step.

For a few seconds, it was awkward—a stumble here, a missed tap there—but it didn’t matter. Because Remmick was laughing.

A real laugh.

Not the cold, taunting chuckle you’d come to brace for—but something honest, bright, sharp with joy. It escaped his lips like something unguarded, and for a moment, he looked completely disarmed.

Remmick’s eyes lit up and he chuckled—a rich, warm sound that echoed against the night. Encouraged, you pressed on, matching pace and then quickening the beat: tap–hop, tap–hop, until your legs felt like hummingbird wings. Suddenly, he laughed again and, almost on impulse, mirrored your steps. His feet flew in perfect rhythm: a flourish here, a stamp there, each motion precise and alive. 

“You tryin’ to steal me spotlight, dolly ?” he teased, his voice breathless from the laughter. “Because yer makin’ a fine mess of it !”

“That’s not fair ! You jumped in front of me !” you shot back, matching his grin, breathless and a little wild with giddiness.

“And yet here ye are, still tappin’ along,” he said, lifting his foot in a flourish and tapping out a rhythm that challenged you to follow.

You met him step for step now, the two of you mirroring each other, dancing in sync—his precision and flair meeting your determination and growing confidence. Your shoes struck the dirt, echoing off the trailer walls and the trees beyond, and for a few heartbeats, it felt like the rest of the world had gone still, watching.

He twirled again and your promptly followed. “Ah ! That’s it, lassie ! Look at ye ! Me pretty lil’ dancin’ queen !”

You snorted. “Please, I look like I’m trying to chase off ghosts.”

“Aye, and dancin’ ‘em straight back to hell, I’d wager,” he laughed, stepping closer now, tapping a slower rhythm, waiting for you to match.

You did. And when you moved in time with him, he gave you a crooked, approving smile.

The fire cracked behind you, the night wind rustling the horses and tents, but neither of you noticed. Not when your feet moved in tandem and your laughter mingled with his, echoing into the dark like a promise.

Just for tonight, it wasn’t hate. It wasn’t fear. It was dancing. It was you and Remmick, face to face, tapping out a rhythm that no one else could follow. You were sweating and exhausted…but when you looked up and saw the genuine smile on Remmick’s face.

…You realised you could have danced all night that you wouldn’t have complained once.

[astraljedi]

No grave can hold my body down (Tommy Miller)

Request: Can you write reader trying to find a way to tell Tommy she's pregnant but tragedy keeps happening. It could follow episode 2 from the latest season. Thank you in advance!

Pairing: Tommy Miller x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for TLOU, Violence, descriptions of blood loss, wounded characters, death of a parent/love one, grief, heavy themes of loss. NSFW. 18+, scenes contain sexual themes, P in V, minor dirty talk, using sex as a release

Word Count: 6k+

Song: Work Song by Hozier

a/n: Request are open if you want to send something in! This is a continuation of "Safe and Sound" but you don't technically need to read it together. Enjoy!

- No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

My eyes flutter open to the sound of shuffling and a belt buckle clinking so early in the morning. I stretch my body, squinting from the bathroom light spilling across the room. It’s still dark outside, not fully morning yet—Frederick hasn't even started singing.

“Tommy?” I squeak, still stretching my limbs against the cold comforter.

“Mornin’. Sorry, baby, the council’s getting together.” Tommy sits on the edge of the bed, on my side, and presses a kiss to my temple. I reach for his hand, watching how the silver wedding band glints under the bathroom light. We've been married a couple of years now, but every time I see that ring, it still makes my stomach flutter. “Something happened on patrol, but I’ll try and find you later. Okay?”

“Will it take long? I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say, thinking of the sealed, untouched pregnancy test hidden in my bag. I want to take it with him, not by myself.

“I don’t know, but can it wait ‘til later? I really gotta go.” He leans down, gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “Try and sleep for a while. I’ll let the chickens out before I leave.”

I sink back into bed, watching him pull on his jacket and disappear out the door. But I don’t fall back asleep—the small bit of rest still left in me is gone. I wait until I hear the front door shut before I get up and pull the pregnancy test from my bag, heading for the bathroom.

The past week has been terrible. At first, I thought I’d caught some awful stomach bug—vomiting day and night, no appetite, and the heartburn felt like it was eating me alive. 

Tommy stayed most nights with me, rubbing my back, bringing me warm soup, doing whatever he could to help me keep something down.

Even Maria had stopped by a few times, but right before New Year's, she handed me a sealed pregnancy test while Tommy was out. “This is sacred,” she said. “Had to pull a few favors, but just to be sure.”

Since Tommy’s Maria’s right hand, we’ve gotten close over the years, ever since I joined the community. “It never crossed my mind,” I admitted, taking the box with shaky hands. It wasn’t like we’d done anything to prevent it... but the idea of bringing a kid into a world full of infected has always haunted me.

Now, I’m leaning against the bathroom sink while the test sits on the counter, face down and terrified of the results. Three minutes have never felt this long. I pick it up and turn it over—two clear lines stare back at me.

“Shit.” I throw the test into the sink and scramble to the toilet, my stomach lurching as I throw up everything inside me. Even after a shower and brushing my teeth, my eyes keep returning to the test. 

I grab it, shove it back into its box, and cram it into the drawer Tommy keeps saying he’ll fix but never does. It takes a minute to get it open, and once it does, I toss the box inside and slam the drawer shut with all the strength I have. If only I could the same with the storm of thoughts brewing in my head. 

True to his word, Tommy let the chickens out and fed them. I stand at the window, watching them peck the ground, the early sun beginning to stretch across the yard. I open the fridge, but even the thought of eggs makes me gag. I settle for bread with a little butter and some tea, since even plain water seems to set me off.

Before the school year starts, I’d already planned to head to town for some trades. I pack my bag with two cartons of eggs and a few bars of my homemade lavender soap, hoping to exchange them for a couple of new bound notebooks for my lesson planning, and maybe any other supplies I can scrounge up.

Town is busier than usual—barrels being rolled through the street, trucks getting loaded, and people moving fast. Had to be a drill, probably connected to why Tommy left so early. I rush to get my trades done, even managing to grab a flannel and a jacket for Tommy in exchange for offering the seller’s kids free haircuts through the first half of the year.

I catch a glimpse of Tommy near the gates talking with a group and watch as he sends them off. It’s like he feels me watching—he turns around and spots me.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask once he’s pulled me into his arms.

“We’ve placed the town on high alert. Might be nothing, but two patrol members found a group of thirty infected using their own dead to hide,” he sighs, eyes scanning the street. I reach up to tuck a loose curl behind his ear.

“Are they okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. They sprinted back to warn us, and we sent out a squad to clear the infected. We just don’t know if there are more, so we’re preparing—making sure everyone’s up to date with protocols.” He nods toward my bag. “Shopping?”

“Just getting a few things before school starts. Got you a jacket too—for when it starts warming up a little.” I show him a peek of the fabric and he smiles. “Do you think you can come home early today? If nothing big happens—I really need to do something with you.”

“I’ll try. Depends on how this all plays out.” He gestures toward the town, and I nod. I understand. Tommy would do anything to keep Jackson safe.

He presses his lips to mine, but we break apart at the sound of bells ringing above the wall.

“Raiders or infected?” Maria asks, suddenly beside us.

“Infected!” someone shouts back. “Five minutes out!”

“Follow the plan. I’ll take the roof, you take Main Street,” Maria says to Tommy.

“Go to the shelter. Now,” Tommy orders. I grab his hand and pull him in for a quick kiss. When we break apart, we nod to each other—a silent promise to stay alive.

I run to the nearest store where people are already being ushered into the basement for shelter.

That’s when I hear a cry from my right. I turn and see Billie—a little boy I had in my class last year—standing alone, crying for his mom. I rush to him and grab his hand. I search for Franny, his mother, but she’s nowhere in sight.

“Hey Billie, we need to hide now, but I promise we’ll find your mom after, okay?”

He nods, still crying, but lets me lead him down into the basement. I find a spot near the back and sit on the floor, pulling Billie into my lap and holding him close.

“We have to be brave, Billie. Okay?”

He nods, curling into my chest. “Are the monsters gonna find us?”

“No. The town will protect us. And Mr. Miller is out there and you can trust him to keep everyone safe.” I squeeze him tighter.

The chaos outside is impossible to ignore—gunfire, shrieking, explosions. Billie cries into me, but I don’t let him go.

“It’s okay, buddy. We’re safe,” I whisper, though even my own heart feels like it’s about to pound out of my chest.

Each crack of glass, each thud or scream from upstairs makes me flinch. The infected have breached the town. Billie covers his ears with his hands, and I close my eyes, trembling every time the gunshots fire again and again.

Please be okay, I think. Please let Tommy be okay.

It takes hours—maybe more than two—for everything to settle, though the gunfire still rings out now and then, putting down those who got bitten. We’re still locked in the reinforced basement, but I’m growing impatient. 

When they finally give the all-clear, the sky is beginning to set, thick with smoke. Fires burn in every corner, cremating the infected. The smell is awful. I pull Billie close, shielding his eyes from the sight.

“Billie!” a voice cries out—and there’s Franny, running toward us. Billie slips out of my arms and sprints to her, hugging her tight. Relief hits me like a wave, and I fight back tears.

“I was with Mrs. Miller! She kept me safe and told me I was being brave,” Billie tells her, pointing at me.

“Thank you,” Franny says, pulling me into a grateful hug.

“Have you seen Tommy?” I ask, but she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry.” She gives my arm a squeeze before heading off to find her husband.

I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing down the wave of nausea rising up again. My eyes scan the crowd, avoiding the bodies. I start to feel dizzy, overwhelmed by every face passing by—until I spot him.

Blood’s dripping down from a cut on his head, but he’s standing. He’s alive.

I don’t think—I just run. He turns at the last second, just as I reach him, throwing my arms around his neck.

“You’re okay,” I whisper, the only thing I could say, again and again. 

He melts into me, his knees buckling and I let him lean all his weight into my arms. His face buries into my neck, and finally, I feel him exhale.

“I got you,” I whisper, and I don't let go.

The nightmare doesn’t stop.

The day had faded into complete darkness, fire overtaking the town at every corner. 

“I’m worried about Joel, darlin’,” Tommy winces as the wet cloth meets his broken skin. “He was on patrol with Dina, and they weren’t answering their radios.”

“The storm’s been the worst we’ve seen. They probably found somewhere to stake it out,” I try to make sense of it.

“I don’t know. I have this feeling that something’s wrong, and it hasn’t settled down yet,” he says. I grab his hands and press a kiss to his rough knuckles. One moment I’m cleaning Tommy’s head, and then Maria comes rushing in.

“Tommy—” Maria rushes into the hall, and I don’t like the look on her face. My stomach drops, like it already knows.

Tommy stands up instantly, and with the look on Maria’s face, he already knows too. “No.”

“It’s Joel,” Maria says, eyes shifting from me to Tommy. 

Tommy’s face is emotionless, his hands in fist by his side. His fear, his gut was trying to tell him and I tried to push it away. 

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

Tommy doesn’t say a word. He lets go of my hand and rushes to the door.

“Tommy.” I go after him, but he stops me, grabbing my arms.

“I need to be alone. I need to do this myself.” His face is emotionless, but he leaves a kiss on my temple. I watch him disappear through the crowd and rub the spot on my chest where my heart is. This can’t be happening.

“Where’s Ellie?” I ask Maria. “Does she know?”

“She was there.” Maria’s voice doesn’t break, but I can feel the walls cracking. “She’s at the hospital.”

I don’t know what comes over me, but I rush toward the hospital. 

God, Ellie.

The long night fades to the next day, I’m still by Ellie’s side, reading a book while she’s still out on tranquilizers.

“Hey.” I turn my head toward the door and spot Maria leaning against the frame. “How is she doing?”

I close my book and stand from the uncomfortable chair. “Still out,” I say, standing by her. “I went to see Dina, trying to make sense of what happened, but she said she doesn’t remember.” My hands rest on my stomach and I lean back against the doorframe. My eyes are tired, my stomach growling angrily at me, but I haven’t had the chance—or appetite—to eat.

“Did you see a doctor?” Nothing passes Maria. She points at my hand resting on my non-existent bump. Ever since finding out, my hands keep drifting there. “Does Tommy know?” she whispers.

I drop my hand from my stomach and look back at Ellie. “I don’t think an unplanned pregnancy is the first thing I should tell my grieving husband right now. I haven’t even seen him since last night.”

“At least get checked out by someone, just in case.” She rests her hand on my arm.

“I’m fine, I promise, Maria. All I did was hide. You’re the badass on the roof shooting down infected,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

“I heard you protected Billie. He can’t stop talking about how Mrs. Miller told him he was the bravest of them all.” Maria smiles a little. “You should go home. Ellie isn’t going anywhere, and the doctors have her.”

I look at Ellie, peacefully sleeping on the bed, and I ache for her. Once she wakes up, it’s going to feel like she never left that nightmare. It’s been years, and the look on my daddy’s face—his cold, lifeless body—still burns in my brain.

“You need to rest too. And your husband needs you right now,” Maria adds, but I’m still looking at Ellie.

But Maria’s right.

After she leaves—off to check on Dina—I press a kiss to Ellie’s temple and leave the hospital. I pull my jacket tighter to my body as I walk home. It's a bit farther than the hospital, but it feels longer than usual. 

God, I need a shower. I need food I won’t throw up immediately.

I unlock the wooden front door and shiver from the awful weather outside. I shrug off my jacket, about to turn on the fireplace, but the house is already warm—fire crackling in the living room.

My eyes shift to the kitchen and spot Tommy leaning against the sink, watching the chickens through the window. He didn’t hear me. Doesn’t notice I’m home.

“My love,” my voice is soft but clear, but he doesn’t move a muscle. I take slow steps toward him and rest my hand on his lower back. He flinches—my touch pulling him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” I say gently.

He doesn’t speak. He shakes his head and pulls me into his arms. His nose brushes my hair, and his hands tremble against my skin. What I would do to take his pain away—for him not to feel this grief, this life without his brother.

He just had him back, this wasn’t fair. 

We stay like that for a long time, holding onto each other in the aftermath of the nightmare. But only one of us lost a brother.

The town will rebuild, but Joel’s absence will haunt us. And the only two people who were there for his murder? One is out cold, and the other doesn’t remember anything.

“Let’s take a shower, yeah?” I mumble, pulling away a little and guiding him upstairs.

I unbuckle Tommy’s belt, remove his shirt, then help him out of the rest of his clothes. I strip down and turn the water on. He steps in first but then pulls me in under the lukewarm spray.

He crashes his lips against mine, desperate. He pushes me against the cold shower tiles, hands grabbing mine and pinning them above my head. I groan as his teeth bite into my lower lip, then move to my jaw.

He holds my wrists with one hand, the other trailing down my side to my core. My breath catches when he spreads my legs with his knee, fingers circling my clit. I gasp when he plunges two fingers inside me. My hands fight his grip—god, I need to touch him. My head spins from all the sensation. His lips, his tongue meeting mine, the hand holding my wrist up as the other thrust in and out me. 

His lips find my hard nipple and he sucks, his tongue swirling, making my back arch. “Tommy.” I warn him, hips meeting each of his thrusts.

I know Tommy. He craves control—needs it after everything. He needs order, for things to go exactly how he wants. And when they don’t... he has me at his mercy.

He releases my wrists and kneels, tongue landing on my aching clit, sucking as his fingers keep moving in and out of me. I cry out, hands tangling in his now-wet curls. My mouth hangs open as my climax crashes through me—but he doesn’t stop. His groan rumbles through me and I cry out, his tongue sucking my release. 

“Tommy,” I beg, overstimulated and dizzy. He pulls back and stands. He grabs my waist, turning me around, my hard nipples pressed against the cold tile as he grinds his cock against my back. I reach back for him, but he grabs my hands again, pinning them over my head.

“Don’t you dare move them,” he growls, biting my shoulder. I moan, and then he plunges into me—no warning, no time to adjust. I press my forehead to the tile and let him take me. However he needs. He lets go of my wrists and grips my waist, pulling me back into every thrust.

I don’t care if I wake up tomorrow with bruises shaped like his fingers. I’ll always let him use me—to feel and release his anger.

My walls tighten around him—he’s close, right on the edge. His hand slides down and rubs my clit, fast, needing me to come with him.

“You’re gonna take all my cum, right darlin’?” he groans, his thrusts turning sloppy. I turn my head and meet his mouth, tasting myself on his tongue. I shatter around him, eyes shut, forcing myself to keep my hands where he told me. Tommy buries his face in my shoulder and comes right after me, my orgasm triggering his own. My walls clench around him, juicing his cock as he chest falls on my back. 

He doesn’t move. We stay under the water, catching our breaths. He stays inside me for a while. And If I weren’t already pregnant, this would’ve done it.

I wince when he finally pulls out. I turn and kiss him—soft this time. Gentler.

“Let’s clean you up,” I say, grabbing the cloth. I lather the lavender soap and run it slowly over his skin. My legs wobble, but his hands steady me at the waist.

He stands still, eyes closed, letting me care for him. Then he switches, does the same for me—gently washing down my shoulders, my stomach between my thighs. I sigh, still sensitive.

After the shower, I help him into sweatpants and tuck him into bed. I kiss his cheek and lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat drum beneath me.

I’m nearly asleep when I hear his soft sniffles. I look up and see his face wet with tears. My heart shatters.

I cup his cheek, wiping them away with my thumb. He pulls me on top of him and wraps his arms around me.

I don’t say anything. I just let him feel—feel the sadness, the anger, the grief.

Years ago, when he helped me move to Jackson after my dad died, we lay in this exact bed. He held me all night while I cried. Never let go. And now… it’s my turn to do the same. To let Tommy grieve in the same bed I once did. To guide him through the darkness, like he once guided me.

For now, the pregnancy test, this secret will stay hidden in that broken drawer.

Right now, Tommy needs me more than anything.

Three weeks have passed since New Year’s. Three weeks since the whole town was struck with tragedy. The hole Joel’s absence leaves behind is still so fresh—the front of his house overflowing with flowers from the people of Jackson.

Tommy isn’t doing any better. Grief doesn’t have a cure, and it never makes sense. Sadness lingers, always. But right now, he needs a distraction—and rebuilding the town has become that for him.

The test is still hidden in the drawer, but Maria keeps asking. I know she’s only looking out for me, making sure I’m okay, making sure this pregnancy is safe. But how do you tell a grieving husband you’re pregnant when his brother’s body was just laid to rest?

It’s eating me alive. But I have to wait—just a little longer. Tommy barely spends any time in the house these days. He leaves before the sun even rises and comes home late, slipping into bed after I’m already asleep.

But today… today he catches me off guard. I turn around and Tommy’s still in bed, just watching me.

“What?” I ask, giving him a weird look.

He doesn’t answer. He just leans over and starts kissing my neck. I sigh under his touch, letting him pull the oversized shirt from my body. His lips crash down on my nipples, and I wince—sharply, like I’ve been hurt. Tommy pulls back fast, eyes wide.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, confused.

I yank the covers up over my chest and sit up. “No, my period’s supposed to be here soon.” I cringe inside. I hate lying. And I know he doesn’t fully believe me, but he lets it go. Whatever mood he was in, it fades fast.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“No, it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, getting out of bed. He adjusts his boner, trying to play it cool, and disappears into the bathroom. A second later, I hear the shower turn on. I lie back on my pillow, eyes drifting to the ceiling, waiting for my heart to calm down.

In the kitchen, he’s cooking eggs for himself, and I’m trying my best not to gag from the smell. I hide my face behind my coffee cup, fighting the wave of nausea crawling up my throat.

“You sure you don’t want some eggs with your toast?” he asks, pointing to the sad little plate sitting untouched in front of me.

“No. I’m not really that hungry this morning.” Another lie. I’m starving. I’ve been craving pie from the restaurant since last night, and the second Tommy leaves, I’m marching straight to Main Street to get it.

“Have you seen Ellie?” I ask, needing to change the subject.

“Yeah. I went to visit her yesterday. Dina’s getting released today—she’s feeling better, but she still doesn’t remember anything.”

Tommy’s hoping Dina might remember who was behind what happened to Joel—the people who took his brother away from him.

“If she does remember something, it might take a while,” I say gently. “We don’t know what kind of trauma she went through.”

“It’s not fair. I should’ve been there.” He scrapes the eggs off the pan and piles them onto his plate like he’s mad at them. I look away, focusing on my toast, breathing slowly through my nose, trying not to throw up.

“I get it. But you were here, protecting the town. If something had happened here while you were gone, you’d be carrying that guilt too.” I’ve listened to him, let him rant for weeks. But sometimes, he needs someone to ground him.

“I know you’re right,” he mutters, placing his empty plate in the sink—just a little too hard. “But it still makes me angry.”

“And it should. None of this is fair—especially when someone does something this evil. But we can still do what Joel would’ve wanted. We keep this town together.” I stand up, walk to him, and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my forehead against his back. His hands find mine, and he holds them there.

“I hate it when you make sense,” he chuckles. “But I love you. I’m sorry I haven’t been around that much. I know you loved him too.”

“I miss him. And I miss him storming in here, yelling about how Frederick would peck his damn feet in the yard.” I laugh, the memories of him bursting through the door, cursing at that rooster, rushing back all at once.

“He hated that rooster,” Tommy says through a laugh, and then we just stand there, quiet and still.

After breakfast, he heads out for a long day of work, and I head into town—on a mission to get my damn pie. Thankfully, school doesn’t start for another week, and I’m praying that by then, my symptoms will ease up. The idea of being surrounded by kids while trying not to puke at every smell? Not ideal.

At the restaurant, Maria slides in beside me in line. I feel awful. I’ve been avoiding her. I know she’s right—I do need to tell Tommy. I won’t be able to hide this much longer, but every time I try, the words get stuck.

And it’s not that I don’t think he’ll be thrilled—I see the way his eyes sparkle whenever I hold someone else’s baby or one of my students runs up to me in the street. Tommy Miller will make an excellent father. My fear is… is this too much too soon?

“Can you wait until after I eat my pie to ambush me?” I groan. “I’ve been craving this since last night.”

She laughs. “I remember those days.” She nudges my shoulder as we step up to the counter.

“Hi Franny! How are you today?” I ask, leaning against the counter.

“I’m good, hon. What can I get for you two dolls?”

“Can I get two pieces of pie? To go, please—I’m going to see Ellie after this.” My eyes are already sparkling with excitement.

“Doll, I think we’re outta pie,” Franny says with a frown.

Maria glances at me, and the tears well up instantly. “Oh no.” I don’t mean to cry, but the sadness rushes over me and I can’t hold it back.

“Can you check in the back, Franny?” Maria jumps in. “She’s been wanting to bring that pie to Ellie, you know… after everything.”

Franny raises a brow but nods. “Lemme double-check.” She disappears into the back.

“Honey, please don’t cry,” Maria says gently, rubbing her hands up and down my arms.

“God, I’m sorry,” I mumble, wiping my face.

“No need to be sorry. It’s just the hormones,” she whispers.

Just then, Franny comes back holding two to-go boxes.

“You’re one lucky gal. Marvin just pulled these out of the oven. Still warm—for you and Ellie.” She places them in a paper bag.

“You’re a lifesaver, Franny.” I grab the bag like it’s gold.

Maria snorts as we step outside. “That was a dramatic thank-you.”

“Please stop. I’ve been craving this and my stomach can’t take one more piece of toast and butter.” It’s already growling from the scent of pie through the paper.

“You can’t keep this up. You need to tell him,” Maria says quietly. “Franny has three kids—she’s gonna figure it out. So will the rest of the town. He deserves to know before the rumors start and that bump pops out.”

“I’ve tried,” I groan. “And then he starts talking about Joel or he’s stressed with work and the moment’s gone again.”

“There’s never gonna be a perfect time. But think of the baby. You need to get checked. What if something goes wrong? He’ll lose you both.”

That stings. My throat tightens, my chest aches.

“Maria, I love you, but right now… your words are hurting more than helping.” We stop outside the hospital, but I don’t move yet. “I know you’re worried. But I need you to be my friend right now—not the head of the council.”

I slip my arm out of hers and walk away, leaving her standing there by the entrance.

When I step into Ellie’s room after a quick knock, she scrambles up from doing push-ups beside the bed and I pretend I didn’t see it. She’s a fighter, doing what she knows best—surviving.

“I brought you some pie.” I hand her the container and plastic fork. “It’s our secret.” I grin, probably a little too happy about pie.

“You’re the best. The food here is awful.” She fake-gags and I laugh. From the times I’ve visited, her food’s mostly stayed untouched. Even after the end of the world, hospital food still sucks.

I don’t plan to stay until evening, but I can’t bring myself to leave. She’s reading one of the astronomy books I brought, and I curl up on the edge of her bed with my own. The sun’s setting when I finally stand to go.

I kiss the top of her head. “I’ll try to find more books, okay?”

She nods, and I wish I could stay. But my body’s already screaming at me. My lower back aches and I still have to walk home.

Snow crunches under my boots as I walk up to the house. The lights are on, the living room glowing from the fireplace. Tommy’s home.

“Hey, baby,” I say, kicking off my boots and jacket once I’m inside, away from the awful chill. Tommy’s on the couch, his back to me, but he doesn’t answer.

I walk around to face him, a knot of worry forming—and then I freeze.

He’s staring at me, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His eyes drift to the coffee table and my stomach drops.

Right in the center of the table is the opened pregnancy test box. The plastic stick resting on top.

“You know I peed on that, right?” I whisper. He doesn’t say a word. Just keeps staring at the test that’s been haunting me for weeks.

“Tommy.” I beg him. Beg him to move, speak, scream—anything.

“I came home early to see my wife. I couldn’t find her, so I decided to fix the damn drawer in the bathroom she’s been asking about for months.” He pauses, finishes his drink. “I fixed it, by the way. After I found the box.”

“Please—let me explain,” I say, dropping to my knees in front of him. He chuckles, bitter, in disbelief, still not meeting my eyes.

“The vomiting. Not wanting to eat. Your breasts are huge, I caught myself staring at them more than usual and I know your body—it’s engraved in my brain. It all clicked. But the first thing I thought was that my wife wouldn’t keep something like this from me.”

The hurt in his voice shatters me and the tears start to fall down my cheeks.

“How long have you known?” he asks, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Since New Year’s,” I cry, but his face softens. He reaches for my elbows and pulls me into his lap.

“I wanted to take that test with you. That morning. But then you got called in and I… how was I supposed to tell you after everything?”

“You felt like you couldn’t tell me.” He cups my face, makes me look at him. “You’re my wife. This is our marriage. I deserved to know.”

I nod at his words, knowing he was right. “It’s been eating me alive,” I admit.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he sighs. “It’s been weeks. The stress you’ve been under—ain’t good for you or the baby.”

“I know. And I’m really sorry.”

His eyes meet mine—no anger left, just relief, and something warm. A look I haven’t seen in a while. 

“We’re going to be parents,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. I grab his hand and place it on my stomach, and he smiles.

“I can’t wait to see you wobbling around the house with a bump. It’s going to drive me insane.”

I laugh and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “All I want is to stop gagging and vomiting at everything.”

Two Months Later

Spring in Jackson is like seeing a different town. The snow’s melted, and animals are out and lively again—chattering, foraging, like they know things are safer now. Flowers start peeking through the soil, soft greens come back to the trees, and it feels like the whole place is exhaling after holding its breath all winter. The energy just shifts.

The mornings still carry that sharp bite, but once the sun settles in, it’s warm enough to finally pull out my comfy, soft midi dress tucked away in the closet for months. I pair it with a light jean jacket to block the wind and my usual boots. The dress flows when I walk, brushing against my legs, but it still clings just enough to show the small, growing bump I keep catching myself running my hand over.

“My littles!” I clap my hands, voice lifting to catch the attention of the little ones gathered by the fence. It keeps them in until the end of the school day, but now it’s time to let them go for the day and meet back with their parents. “Remember to bring flowers and leaves for tomorrow’s activity! And no pulling random flowers without asking an adult first,” I add, giving them a knowing look as I unhook the gate.

They burst out, squealing and shouting as they run to their parents, backpacks bouncing behind them. “See you tomorrow!” I call after them, waving at a few parents too as they exchange glances and little grins over whatever their kids are chattering about.

I stay a moment longer, watching them scatter. There’s something so healing in seeing their joy like that. They are safe within these walls and untouched by the reality of what happens outside those walls. I rest my hand gently on my bump and let the wind brush over me, letting my body relax.

Too caught up in the quiet and in the sun on my face, I jump when strong, calloused hands wrap around my waist—one landing on the swell of my bump, the other tugging me gently back into a chest I know—I gasp and let out a small squeal.

“Tommy,” I giggle, breathless as his lips press to my cheek. “What are you doing?”

“I managed to slip away for the day,” he says, already leaning down to scoop my bag from the ground. “Got something to show you.”

Since we found out, he’s been so careful. Not overbearing, not in a way that suffocates—but in this soft, sweet way that makes me feel loved and cared for. And he always finds a way to rest his hand on my belly, like he’s afraid it will all slip away.

“Is it my flower garden?” I ask, trying not to smile too big.

“Um, no,” he grins, “but I’ll get to it. I promise.” He takes my hand, my bag swinging from the other, and we walk together in the welcoming warm spring weather offers us. “But I know you’re gonna love this too.”

When we reach the house, he drops the bag gently on the porch—but we don’t go inside. Instead, he leads me around back, toward the shed behind the house where he keeps his tools, his projects. I already know the smell of wood shavings and sawdust will hit the second the door creaks open. But he stops me just short, stepping behind me and covering my eyes.

“Have you been hiding a secret from me?” I tease, cheeks starting to ache from smiling too much. 

“I have,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “But don’t worry. It’s a secret that was worth keeping.”

He guides me carefully, slow steps across the floor of the shed. When we stop, his hands slip away from my face. My eyes blink in the shift from dark to light, and then I see it.

A crib.

A wooden crib standing in the middle of the room. 

it’s not brand new—it's the bones of something old, something salvaged. He’s refinished it, though—rounded the corners, replaced the railings, sanded it down until the wood is soft beneath my fingertips. I move closer, hands trembling as I reach out to trace the grain, and I feel the lump rise in my throat before the tears come.

The headboard has tiny carvings—little stars and a crescent moon. So simple, the details and the thought of him doing this himself for our baby made my vision blur.

“This is beautiful,” I whisper, still taking it all in. He steps behind me again, his hand finding the place it always goes now—right over our baby.

“I found it a while back,” Tommy says. “And I thought our baby deserved a safe place to sleep. One made with love from my hands… and a touch of their mama’s love for stars and the moon.”

He presses a kiss to my shoulder, hands still anchored to me like he needs to memorize every second. 

“I know we’ve got plenty of time to set up the room,” he murmurs, “but I couldn’t help myself after I found this.”

I turn in his arms, my own wrapping around his neck. “You’re already the best damn dad. This is perfect, Tommy.”

He chuckles softly, his nose brushing mine. “I’ll be the best damn husband when I finish that flower garden.”

“No,” I whisper, smiling through another tear. “You’re already the best damn husband too.”

I close my eyes as his lips meet mine, and we stay like that for a moment. Soaking it all in. 

It’s been a couple of dark months. Some days still carry the weight of Joel’s absence, the ache of the loss this town suffered when the new year came in like a blade. That kind of pain doesn’t disappear. But moments like this—quiet, full of hope—they keep us grounded. Keep us alive.

It reminds us we’re still here. And there’s still so much left to fight for.

[raevpng]

in between (pt. 1)

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

requested by this anon <3

part two

masterlist

summary: paige and azzi spending their quarantine together, and maybe realising their true, hidden feelings along the way.

a/n: hey everyone! as usual, it’s late at night i know but i just couldn’t get this out my head! i plan on making this fic pretty long so i decided to make this a two part fic! i hope you guys like this and as usual, let me know what you think <3

—

it feels like a fever dream, really.

the way azzi’s eyes widened at the news of paige visiting all the way from minnesota, the way azzi ran to her outstretched arms with no hesitation, the floral scent of her shampoo lingering in her sweater even when they pull away, the way azzi’s parents’ eyes shone with a knowing glint.

the sheer fact that paige was really here, standing beside her after long months of distance.

it was 2020. the world was just shuttering into stillness, the streets suddenly quieter, the air heavier with uncertainty – covid had flipped everything upside down, and when the commencement of lockdowns were first announced, paige didn’t hesitate — she knew exactly where she wanted to be.

she remembers pleading with her parents, voice earnest and slightly desperate over dinner. she argued that she hadn’t seen azzi in so long, that being apart felt wrong in a way she couldn’t explain. paige remembers whining and her solemn promises to to use her own allowance and paycheck for the tickets as well as to always wear a mask and sanitize everything in sight. it took a while and definitely lots of begging, but amy had finally caved after several facetime calls with tim and katie, who promised to keep her safe and fed. paige still remembers the way azzi had let out the loudest cheer when she heard the news, so loud that even her parents laughed through the phone.

it was familiar.

now, standing in the doorway of azzi’s house with a duffel slung over her shoulder, paige felt that warm, grounding comfort settle into her chest.

azzi walked beside her, fingers threaded with hers like it was second nature. she carried one of paige’s bags with her free hand while her parents followed behind them, chatting quietly.

“okay honey,” katie smiled, stopping at the base of the stairs, “i’ll let you two settle in while i finish dinner. call us if you need anything, or if azzi refuses to let go like the clingy little koala she is.”

azzi pouted, clinging tighter to paige as katie ruffled her curls. paige just laughed and nodded in response, heart warm and chest tight in the best kind of way.

azzi’s grip on paige doesn’t waver as they wobble to azzi’s small but cozy space, paige trying to suppress the soft, fluttery feeling she always seems to get when azzi was close to her.

“azzi,” she laughed, nudging her lightly, “you gotta let me go so we can unpack y’know?” paige laughs softly, her heart warming at the soft sound azzi makes as she separates from her, as if it’s physically hurting her to put even an inch of distance between them.

she mourns the loss of warmth of soft skin immediately, but decides to laugh instead at the younger who was giving her a tour of her bedroom as if she hasn’t been here several times before.

“i cleared this drawer for you,” she said casually, zipping open one of paige’s bags, “so you don’t have to go digging through your old suitcase the whole time.”

“hey!” paige feigns offence, snatching the bag from azzi’s hands to do it herself, “first of all, rude. second…thanks az, you really didn’t need to. i’m already crashing here for a while, i wouldn’t wanna bother you more.” she finishes, her sincerity making azzi’s eyes soften.

azzi froze for a moment, lips parting like she was debating something. her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

“you’re never a bother, paige.”

the words were soft. honest. and when she looked up again, her eyes were steady yet vulnerable in a way paige didn’t see often.

“besides…” azzi bit her bottom lip, like she was still considering if she should say it at all.

fuck it.

“i’ve really missed you. i always do, and i really need you here — with me.”

the quiet sincerity in her voice left paige momentarily stunned.

they’ve always been close – endless of facetimes till the dead of night, friendship full of inside jokes and subtle jabs that held an affectionate undertone. but even then, their friendship always lived in that in-between space, filled with banter and shoulder bumps, with rare, almost accidental tenderness. they didn’t really say things like this. they didn’t need to.

but recently, they’ve just been… more. more affectionate in their words, more affectionate through actions, and feeling that soft, fluttering feeling pools in their stomach… more.

and paige didn’t know what to do with the soft fluttering in her chest, or the way azzi’s words echoed in her head louder than they should. they always just chalked it up to the distance and the closeness of their friendship, but it’s easy to pretend that the blush in their cheeks when they get too honest is because of the lighting in their facetimes.

but standing here, in azzi’s bedroom, with azzi looking at her like that? yeah. paige didn’t think jokes were gonna cut it this time.

and the worst part?

she didn’t want to.

–

they settled into azzi’s room slowly, almost like slipping into a favourite, worn out hoodie – comfortable, familiar, something that felt like home. paige’s shared playlist with azzi sounded softly through her speakers, just loud enough to make the girls hum along yet still soft to let a comfortable silence breathe between them. the late afternoon sky was darker now, streaks of pink and gold painting the sky just above azzi’s dresser where paige was folding her clothes in.

azzi was laying on her stomach, her eyes crinkled in silent laughter as paige folded her clothes messily. “you fold your shirts so weird.” azzi teased, head tilted.

paige gasped, feigning offense as she clutched her chest dramatically, “i do not!”

azzi let out a snort, burying her face in her covers to muffle her laughter. when she looks up though, the atmosphere shifts noticeably as she meets paige’s eyes – so soft, tender, with an unnamed yet loving feeling swimming in her deep blue eyes.

the moment lingered, quiet, yet so full at the same time.

“hey,” azzi broke the silence suddenly, her voice softer now, “do you remember the first time we talked? like really talked, in facetime and everything?’

paige raised an eyebrow, amusement filling her features, “you mean the time you accidentally you called me cause you were trying to add me on snap?”

“okay first of all,” azzi groaned, hiding her face in embarrassment, “that was a very understandable mistake. second, you’re welcome, cause if i didn’t you wouldn't be here in my room hogging up my space.”

“uh-huh.” paige grinned, setting down the last of her clothes in the dresser, turning fully to face azzi, “i remember you getting so flustered you hung up after like, two seconds. didn’t even say hi or bye or nothing.”

“yeah because you looked too pretty and i panicked.” the words left azzi’s lips before she could catch them.

it was quiet for a beat, the soft hum of the fan and whatever song was still playing filling the air.

paige blinked as her heart stuttered. “what?”

azzi’s eyes widened, realization hitting her like a wave. she sat up slowly, avoiding paige’s gaze but not looking away entirely. her cheeks flushed the softest shade of pink that god – paige thinks it’s just unfair how pretty she looks. “i just mean… well yeah, you did. you looked really pretty, and i wasn’t expecting to actually see you face-to-face yet, so i kinda just freaked out.”

paige’s heart was hammering now, not from surprise, but from the way azzi looked at her with brown eyes so earnest – like she wanted paige to know the truth for once instead of hiding it in a joke. paige wanted to say something, knowing the silence on her end was stretching too long for it to be comfortable. so she blurted out the raw truth in her head, “i thought you were pretty too. still do.”

azzi looked up then, brown eyes meeting blue.

for a moment, everything else faded – the soft music, the buzz of the fan, the faint sounds of katie calling for dinner downstairs, it was still. it was just them, breathing in the same air, looking at each other like they had more to say but didn’t know how to say it yet.

paige let out a shaky laugh, chest tight, needing to defuse the tension before her heart gave out. “god, we sound like we’re in a movie right now.”

azzi grinned, that shy dimple that paige adored with everything in her making an appearance. “a really slow one.”

“the slowest,” paige agreed, nudging azzi’s leg with her foot, earning a soft smile from the other.

azzi paused, hesitation clear in her body language, but with rare boldness within her seizing her, she reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind paige’s ear, fingers lingering a moment too long on her cheek.

“but maybe worth it,” she said softly.

paige swallowed hard, the space between them suddenly feeling a little too charged, too electric.

“maybe,” she whispered back.

from downstairs, katie’s voice rang out again, jolting them from the moment.

“girls! dinner’s ready!”

azzi stood first, offering her hand to paige. she took it without hesitation, her fingers curling into azzi’s like they belonged there.

and maybe they did.

maybe they always had.

–

the dining room glowed with a warm light, scattered conversations around the table while paige and azzi settled to their seats which are, of course, right beside each other. the spread on the table was mouthwatering, paige’s stomach grumbling at the heavenly sight of baked salmon with roasted vegetables on the side, fresh garden salad in the middle, and a plate of steaming dinner rolls fresh from the oven. it smelled like home, like comfort, like everything paige had yearned for all this time, even if she didn’t know what it was yet.

tim sat at the head of the table, already two bites into his dinner with a satisfied groan, while katie flitted between making sure everyone had enough water and playfully scolding her husband for not waiting.

paige laughed softly, watching the scene unfold with a fond smile. she’d always loved being in the fudd’s home, similar yet so different from hers. louder in some ways, and softer in others, yet the unmistakable familial feeling settled in her chest, fondness overwhelming her as she watched the banter between azzi’s siblings and the teasing looks between tim and katie.

and sitting here now, thigh brushing azzi’s under the table, she felt it even more.

as they start eating, katie starts handing out food, “paige, want some veggies?”

before paige could even open her mouth to protest politely, azzi beats her to it. “yes, she definitely does.”

paige raised an eyebrow quizzically, nudging her best friend softly with her elbow, “damn, speaking for me now huh?” she teases, making the other stick her tongue out before plopping a few greens and baby corns on her plate.

“i just know you, that’s all. you need to be forced or else you won’t have anything healthy in you.” azzi teased, a little smirk tugging at her lips.

tim raised an eyebrow at the girls’ interaction, eyes twinkling with mischief, “you two have been awfully close lately.”

katie joins him with a soft hum, a small smirk forming in her lips as a light blush makes its way to the girls’ cheeks.

“we’ve always been close,” azzi replies, trying her best to seem cool and collected, choosing to ignore the heat in her face and instead reaches for a roll, passing one to paige without even looking.

Paige, on the other hand, seemed to have given up on trying, mumbling a silent thanks before stuffing it in her mouth trying to diffuse the stubborn blush that won’t go away.

tim just hummed in agreement, skeptical but clearly not wanting to push, “it has been a while though paige, we missed you around here! one of us more than the others.”

azzi just groaned at the implication, but paige smiled warmly at the confession. “well, the feeling’s mutual.” paige whispered, feeling a little bold.

and if azzi’s parents gave each other a knowing smile, paige didn’t notice.

not with azzi letting out a ragged breath while she reaches under the table to link her fingers with hers.

–

“your parents are crazy observant, huh?”

azzi looks behind her shoulder as she settles the dirty dishes in the sink, looking over at paige who was collecting the glass cups. “what do you mean?”

paige licks her lips, trying to decide how to phrase the mess of thoughts she had in her head, “i mean, they were just totally watching us the entire time.” azzi just shrugged.

“maybe they like seeing me dote on you,” she said with a teasing tilt on her head.

paige hums, “very true, you have been extra doting tonight. you want something don’t you” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, making azzi laugh loudly at paige’s accusation.

“i have no idea what you mean, p.” azzi grinned, stepping closer to the blonde, “i’m just tryna be a good friend.”

“mhm.” paige hums, a bold idea popping in her head. feeling braver, she slips her hands around azzi’s waist, whispering in her ear, “you sure you’re not trying to make me fall for you?”

azzi’s breath catches in her throat, her heart beating so damn loud she’s almost sure paige can hear it. her hands slide to the other’s chest in such an instinctive way azzi didn’t know what to think of it. she learned in slightly, “maybe, and what if i am?”

it was paige who froze now, every ounce of boldness in her body dissipating at the reciprocation of azzi’s actions.

were they…flirting?

before paige could process the younger’s words, she stepped away suddenly, a satisfied smirk replacing the shy one that was there literally just a few seconds ago, knocking paige’s breath away.

“better get these dishes done.” she said, walking to the sink like she didn’t just completely flip paige’s world upside down.

paige stood frozen for a second, stunned.

what is happening right now? what is this feeling right now?

then came the oh moment.

“oh fuck, i’m so screwed.”

[sillygoofyqueer]

P-PART TWO. (Part one here) PART TWO OF LIU QINGGE AND LEVIATHYUAN. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD- So Liu Qingge has just woken up, swaddled in the skin of an animal that Leviathyuan had easily tossed around like a toy, and he's obviously disoriented. Cheng Luan is laid down beside him, blood mostly wiped off it (did Leviathyuan lick it off?....................NO. He used his raggedy-ass robes. Probably), and very pleased that its master is awake and alive right now. In the background, Leviathyuan is pattering around with raw meat and random plants he found in The Depths, trying to remember everything that other creatures from The Depths had told him about humans and what they needed to survive. They needed to eat, they needed to sleep (the human was already doing that!) and....they liked being warm! Obviously, having something leaking out from their body was also bad - although, this human's blood was a strange colour. Whatever!! The plants that help him when he's being attacked in his humane form by some cocky land demons should be able to help the human. They taste funky though, so the human can wash it down with the meat from the beast - surely humans can eat meat, right? It's really plain as well, he's pretty sure that there isn't any poison with this beast; they like to roam around The Cavern sometimes, so he gets into scuffles with them when he's bored, and they do basically no damage. Liu Qingge is being hand fed by this demon creature thing that has not once tried to kill him, and is even grinning at him (with blood-soaked teeth. No, this does not affect him in any way). It's hard to have any sort of conversation with it because the creature doesn't seem to understand his language, trying to communicate through different sounds instead of forming words - which is fine, because he hates talking. He's also swooning because like "...dude....you're providing for me and helping me?" He immediately asks Leviathyuan to come back to CQM with him, and the creature is just like "aight bet" (<- he has no idea what's going on). Something something, they get back to CQM and everyone is like "Liu-shidi, is that a fucking DEMON?!?!" and he's just like "yeah" and then goes about showing Leviathyuan the sect and doing whatever is necessary to accommodate him. This creature needs to eat? They have a lot of interesting times trying to figure out what he can eat. The creature likes to watch the disciples and clap for them? Let him join in the training sessions! The creature needs somewhere big enough to accommodate his leviathan form?....SHANG-SHIXIONG!!!!!!!! Oh god, someone's- someone's gotta stop Liu Qingge, he's lost his mind!! Surely Zhangmen-Shixiong- no...no, he seems far too pleased that Liu Qingge is learning what it's like to have to keep a feral person on a leash when they just accidentally destroy everything and want to go everywhere. Plus, it keeps Liu Qingge on the mountain more, so he's in meetings and actually training his disciples, even if it's just so this strange demon will smile and pat his head. What about Shen Qingqiu? He seems to despise demons, so surely he'll have something to say about this?- Ah, no, no, he was irritated by the demon at first, but then he found himself getting frustrated that nobody was trying to forge communication with this demon that Liu Qingge had KIDNAPPED (in his eyes). After some taunting from a certain source when he points it out (Qi Qingqi), he becomes determined to teach Leviathyuan how to speak and read and learn- Okay, but like, Mu Qingfang can think about the dangers of having a demon in the mountain sect??? Oh, he's far too busy following the demon around and trying to figure out how the fuck this creature works. He cries with each new baffling discovery he makes because he just wants to learn more about the other species that live in their world with them but nooooo, of course they have to be super confusing and make him want to give up and have a tantrum all at once.

[romana-after-dark]

Cry Harder

Dark!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Masterlist : Taglist (NEW TAG LIST)

A follow up to Keep Cry'n, but you don't need to read it to read this. But you do need to read the warnings lol.

For my event, Dead Dove December which is still open until January 1st, and there's no sign up! Plenty of time to join <3

Summery: While keeping you captive, Joel's sex drive is insatiable, and the sex seemed to be never ending. You tried to warm him you needed to use the bathroom... he didn't listen.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Non con. Piss kink. Dacryphilia. PIV sex, oral f!recieving. Smoothing via pillow. Threat of murder, threat of necrophilia (Joel's just trying to scare her.) little smacking. Degredation, daddy kink.

Immersabilty: Reader is fem.

1k works

A/N: I'M BACK!!! I'll chat a lil more in the notes at the bottom and be sure to read the housekeeping but thanks for sticking around <3

You don't have to like piss kink but don't make fun of me okay lol

Support writers! Reblog and comment

******************************

“That’s it baby, cry harder”

As if you had much of a choice. Joel had you here for 2 days by this point, and the man was fucking insatiable. He had explained to you, not that you asked, that he goes in and out of “shifts”, essentially. For a few weeks, he raids and stocks up on all he needs. Then, if he’s got somewhere decent to stay, he’ll take a pretty girl for a week or so and just go insane on sex, food, and any drugs or booze he could get. You were well fed at least, and sometimes Joel let you take a few hits of weed or sips of alcohol to numb you, but other than that he wasn’t giving many mercies.

It had been hours at this point, no refractory period except sometimes to go have a smoke, but 5 minutes later he came back hard and thrusting into your swollen lips.

You were exhausted, spread out naked on your back as Joel knelt before you, thrusting. You just wanted it to be over, sobbing into the pillow you pulled over your face.

“Awwww, little babies embarrassed? Wassamatter, little baby, don’t want me to hear you moaning again?” Joel taunted you with a laugh. He liked laughing at you. He did make you moan, that was the embarrassing part. Joel wasn’t necessarily trying to make you cum, but he did get giddy and gleeful when the stretch of his cock was enough to make you orgasm.

You weren’t entirely sure that’s what was happening right now, but something was off. “Joel…” You whine into your pillow. “My stomach hurts…”

“Why -thrust- the fuck -thrust- do I care?”

“It feels funny…” You hoped maybe he’d stop if you were sick. Not that he cared about your well being, but rather he wouldn’t want you getting sick all over him. Or maybe he was into that. 

“Just shut the fuck up and -mmmph- just fuck’n take it. Always fuck’n whining like you got a hard job.” Joel smacked a tit, making you whimper and clench down.

Then you realized what the feeling was. “Joel, I gotta- MPH!”

Joel shoved the pillow into your face. “Tired of your fucking voice. ‘Joel I need this, Joel I need that!’” He mocked you in a high pitched voice. “Just shut the fuck up before I smoother you and use your cold pussy instead. Bet the rigor would tight’n you up a bit.”

Fresh tears wet your pillow as you wriggle, trying to keep quiet. You needed to pee. Or maybe you were going to cum. Joel had gotten you pretty drunk this time and his dick jamming into your cervix made everything a little hazy, but you needed to pee, and you needed to pee BAD. Still, the struggle to breath was the first concern. It wasn't cutting off all your hair, but it was getting difficult.

You tried to warn him, but Joel simply kept the pillow over your mouth and he filled you up again and again, thick cock stretching you so far you weren’t sure how you were supposed to be any tighter, but men were never satisfied. The pressure continued to build and suddenly you were very confused; was this an orgasm, pee, or both?

Joel was growing erratic above you, and you wondered if he got off, if this would be it for today. You tried to hold it back, never wanting Joel to have the satisfaction, but the combination of the feeling and Joel in your stomach were too much. Unconsciously, you let go.

Joel stops, not pulling back enough to pull out but enough to see you and you release the warm liquid onto him as you cum. “Oh shit” He chuckles. “Did you squirt?” You remove the pillow the your face to catch him looking at your sore cunt as the liquid isn’t stopping and he realizes what was happening. “Ohhhh fuck!” He says gleefully, thrusting into you with renewed vigor.

“That’s it baby, piss on my cock, ooooooh yes, fuck yes, pee on daddy’s fuck’n cock, mmmmm god, gonna- fuuuuck, gonna cum, gonna cum in daddy’s little piss baby.”

You cover your face with your arms as you cry, sensitive as all hell from cumming hard as you relieve yourself, humiliated but knowing he’s close. Just gotta power through.

Huffing, Joel pressed his hand down on your lower stomach, pushing out more pee as you yelped.

“Goooood DAYUM!” Joel shouts loud in your ear as he cums inside you, filling your tired pussy with his cum.

Joel falls on top of you, laughing, his heavy weight nearly as suffocating as the pillow was. A light chuckle turned louder as he laughed harder and pulled away. As Joel pulled his cock out of your soaked folds, he was all but cackling, derangement in his eyes as he looked at the disaster that was the shitty bed you slept on.

“Such a messy girl…” He eyed your cunt, and you whimper. Joel didn’t go down on you. This was for him to get his dick wet, nothing else…

But soon, his mouth was between your legs, lapping at the mix of cum and piss and sweat between you two, his beard a rubbing irritant against your puffy skin. “Such a pathetic little girl” He muttered between breaths, rutting himself against the bed, and you knew he was hard again. “Fuck’n weird, can’t even keep from making a mess of yourself” He growls, licking you clean. “Fuck’n- ohmygod- fucking disgusting little piss Wh-who-oooooremmmm.” Joel came against the bed, just as you were about to come again, and pulled away.

You can’t help the way your body wriggles as the “Nooo” You whine, ever so quiet. You hated how much he made you want him sometimes. 

Joel giggles, awfully pleased with himself. “Nah, baby, I’m done with you for now. Maybe next time you’ll learn to appreciate when I give you this cock.” 

Butt naked, Joel exited the room, telling you to clean yourself up. “You smell.”

*************************

TW depression, skip to the bold for romana housekeeping

I havn't posted much outside an occasional Blessed Be the Fruit and if you follow my main, you kno why. This semester has been incredibly hard on me, a genuine deep depression i han't experienced in a long, long time. It was awful. I nearly hospitalized myself a few times and I should have but I am american and not insured. I was not safe, and was a danger to myself.

Yet, somehow, I managed to get my course work done and I finished the semmester on friday ;-; now i have 2 weeks approximately off from work which isnt ideal but hey, traveling and shit. Then for about a month I'll be working back at day care again before coming back for second semmester soooooo im hoping this free time will allow me to catch up on writing and reading

Housekeeping

As linked above, this is for my event dead dove December! It's for the Oscar Isaac/ Pedro Pascal fandom, and we got so many fun entries including lots of Joel, some triple frontier (santi AND frankie) William tell, and soon some Jack from mojave, rydall keener and more!! Would love for you to join me! if you dont wanna write but like dead dove, search #deaddovedecember2023 I didn't realize at the time there was a similar event for the bucky barnes fandom but they have the same hastag, so if you like bucky, check them out too!

Also, i'm gonna be working on a new series once Blessed be the Fruit and a few on my main end, a dark!triple frontier. Check out the coming soon info, and comment if you'd like a tag!

Be sure to join the new tag list, as i changed my tag options just a little!

@m0nster-fvcker @miraclesabound @fandxmslxt69

[ahhnini]

okay season 4 rafe where they broke up and shes a kook turned pouge, and its just a bunch of angst and basically all of s4 with her?

our last summer - rafe cameron x reader

synopsis - he wishes he could've had one last summer with you

warnings - angst, kook turned pogue!reader, mentions of cheating, (slight) sofia slander (I love her tho!!), stabbing, character death

you were in no means ready to see him, let alone work with your ex-fiancée again. you knew he’d been stealing glances at you while you all trek your way through the sandy dunes of the coast of morocco, but you were strong enough to keep yourself from looking back and meeting his gaze.

your main priority was sarah, who you could tell was getting queasy from the amount of activity she’d been doing these past couple of days. once you saw the skyline of a city, your ounce of optimism returned.

around a year ago, you’d been happily engaged to who you thought was the love of your life, rafe cameron. after you’d found a tank top that wasn’t yours in your shared bedroom, you’d knew he was seeing someone else, but you didn’t expect that someone to be your own best friend, sofia.

you had followed the pogues to morocco after what groff had done to jj. you were willing to follow them to the ends of the earth, never leave a pogue behind, john b's words echo in your head.

you were sitting with sarah, rubbing her back while the rest of the group went to go get some food for her. rafe was mumbling incoherent sentences, something he always did while pissed off or annoyed, and you tried your best to ignore his complaints. "you okay?" you softly spoke up, sarah meekly nodded her head in response.

you hear the shout of multiple voices, turning around to see the rest of the group running towards you. you stood up, dumbfounded as the moroccan authorities chase your friends. already? one of them apprehends you, and you writhe at their grip. you plead to them, but its no use. you turn around, seeing rafe also getting held up. the rest of the pogues were nowhere to be found. as long as they got each other, they're safe.

after a quick interrogation, the authorities let you both go. you let out a huff, not only because you were falsely accused, but because you're now stuck with your ex-lover, in a foreign country.

"are you serious?" were the first words you'd tell him in a year. he pulled out a wad of cash and his passport from his belt bag. "that's like, hundreds of dollars, rafe! you could've fed your sister!" he turns to look at you, piercing blue eyes burning holes through your soul. "listen, my only job was to get you pogues to morocco. no more, no less. if you don't wanna get lost, you gotta follow me, I'm your best bet," "as if," you roll your eyes, "we're in the same boat—no pun intended—but, you are also in a different country," he pulls you into his chest with one arm, whispering in your ear, "yeah? but guess who has the money? guess who actually has defense skills. not you, huh?" he shoves you out of his arms, making you stumble backward. you scoff, following him through the crowded streets.

"you look nice," a slight smile dawned on his face as one of the store clerks helped you wrap your scarf around your hair. you both had changed into more neutral colored outfits to help blend in. "hold on" you see rafe turn to a stand that's selling phones. you impatiently tap your foot as he dials a couple of numbers in. you follow closely, wanting to find out who needed his attention so badly.

your heart clenched as you heard another female voice, quickly realizing that it was sofia. of course, why wouldn't he call his girlfriend? now, you distanced yourself from him, looking at the floor as you drag your feet along the dirt, getting your shoes dusty.

this day felt like years. after an extensive search for groff, you'd finally found him. you rode on the back of the motorcycle rafe stole, holding onto his waist. you couldn't help but have your mind flashback to your last motorcycle ride with him, still on kildare, on the way to courthouse to get marriage documents. his cologne hadn’t changed either. you remembered how his cologne lingered on every article of your clothing. you knew he’d been about it too from the way his body tensed up.

you shake your head, he probably does that with sofia now. you sniffle, hoping the sound of the engine would muffle it. rafe pulls off to the side of the road, stopping at a well. you use this time to regain your distance from him, stretching from the long ride. "is that it?" you point to the city down the cliff, squinting your eyes. groff looks at the map, nodding his head. you see the two men bent over the well, and you shuffle to see what they were looking at. "...good thing hollis and I paid off that girl...what was her name? sonya? oh, sofia!" you see rafe's face twist. you kneel down in front of the well, next to groff, "what are you talking about?" "its really none of your business," he retorted.

what happens next is a blur, groff pulls out a knife, attempting to stab rafe. rafe's reflexes work in record-time, but it was a horrible decision to try to help him at this moment. as groff attempts to defend himself, you feel the blade go into your stomach. you let out a sharp gasp, after seeing groff get shoved down the well, you collapse, rafe gracing your fall. "hey, hey, y/n, stay with me, please," his voice cracks as be sits you down on the side. he holds your wound, and you let out a painful groan. his eyes widen. he still calls out for help, desperation lacing his voice. "no one can hear you," you cough.

gentle hands hold your face, "rafe, you can't save me, I'm sorry," you feel a warmness fill your body. "no, no, I can, we can get you to a hospital! stay with me-" you cough again, louder this time, "no, its impossible," he curses under his breath, before shouting to the sky. he embraces you, your voice getting weaker by the second, "hey rafe? can you tell me about our best memories? like...during our relationship?" your voice was barely a whisper now.

he nods, voice barely steady as he begins to talk, "we had a lot of good memories, but my favorite was our last summer, where we were gonna get married in the fall. I shouldn't have cheated, I'm so sorry," he sobs onto your shoulder, "remember when all we did was go surfing? and I taught you how to ride those big swells 'cus you were too scared...and...how we were gonna move out of kildare after we got married? we were gonna move to colorado, live that white picket fence type of life," he bitterly chuckles, "I screwed up, I screwed us, and I'm so, so, sorry. If I could rewind time, just to feel your lips on mine again, just to hear you laugh, just to have you look at me with so much love, I would. I'd make sure you were never under this situation." your mind replayed all of those memories, and with shaky hands, you pull him in for one last kiss, pulling back to say your last words, “I never stopped loving you, rafe,” before letting your body finally succumb to your injury.

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[random-thot-generator]

Better Not to Know + Pt. 6

Kyle Gaz Garrick x reader

Summary: Kyle comes over to your place to work some things out.

cw: pregnancy, brief mention of drinking- smoking- drug use, mention of sexual partners- nothing explicit, a few brief PG-spicy thoughts/moments

banners & dividers: @saradika-graphics

-

People deal with stress in all sorts of ways. Some drink, some smoke, some even do drugs. Adversely, others might hit the gym for a work out or paint or cook. Some people might even hook up with a stranger in a night club loo.

You wince at that last one, making a pained face.

Being pregnant, those first three options are definitely out of the question for you, and being seven and a half months pregnant, just the thought of waddling yourself into a gym makes you cringe. Sure, you could break out your water colors or make that breakfast bake you saw online, but those sorts of activities take focus, something you are sorely lacking at the moment. And as for that last option...

Well, you see where that got you.

One thing you can do that isn't unhealthy and doesn't take a lot of concentration is cleaning. It's something you've always excelled at— being the germaphobe you are, so that's what you've been doing all morning. It's keeps your hands busy and your mind blank, so you're not sitting around fretting over the visitor you're soon to receive.

God, why did you agree to let Kyle come over?

Oh, yeah. He's now "officially" the father of your baby. How could you forget?

You snort at yourself and toss your scrubby sponge in the bathroom sink. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you give her a dirty look and hiss, "You bloody idiot."

After putting away your cleaning supplies, you shower, dress and make yourself a decaf latté, then settle on your couch to wait. Turning on the telly to distract yourself, you end up watching the clock, anyway, your nerves ratcheting up with each passing minute. When a trio of quick knocks finally land on your door, the sound still ends up startling you, despite expecting it. It even startles the baby, who doesn't hesitate to give your bladder a good, swift kick.

"You should be kicking your dad," you mutter, hauling yourself up awkwardly from the couch.

Unbolting the door, you open it to reveal the gorgeous figure of Kyle Garrick leaning in your doorframe. He gifts you one of his megawatt smiles and your breath hitches in your throat. Ugh! It's bloody unfair, how good he looks.

"Mornin', pet. Brought us some breakfast along," he says, holding up a white paper bag. His eyes trail down to the large bump of your stomach. "Gotta keep you and our little one fed properly."

Discomfited by the open yearning in his expression, you shift behind the open door as you open it wider and avert your eyes. "Please, come in."

Kyle saunters across the threshold, eyes wandering about your flat, taking it in. "Nice place," he mutters, shrugging off his light jacket.

"Thanks," you reply automatically, still unable to meet his gaze. You gesture at the coat tree as you take the bag from his hand. "Hang up your jacket. I'll take this to the kitchen. Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee," he replies, hanging his jacket before following in your wake. Sliding onto one of the bar chairs at the counter, he watches you take a mug down from the cupboard before checking out the rest of the space. His gaze takes in the spotless kitchen and gleaming appliances, his nose picking up on the fresh scent of lemon cleanser.

"Are ya always this neat or did ya clean on my account?" he asks, curious.

You shrug, keeping your back to him as you prepare his coffee, then plate up the croissants and grab spoons for the yogurt parfaits you unpacked. "Both, I suppose. I clean when I'm nervous," you confess.

You turn around to find him eyeing you, a slight frown buckling his brow. "Why are ya nervous?" he asks, nodding his thanks as you slide his food and coffee across to him.

You huff out a soft laugh, finding his question ridiculous. "You have to ask?" you query, pinching off a piece of your croissant. You chance a quick glimpse up at him as you pop the bite in your mouth.

His frown smooths out, the wry curl of his lips drawing your gaze. Regardless of the hateful words that have spewed out of it, you can't deny the man has the prettiest mouth you've ever seen. It's so... sensual and—

Far too distracting for your own good. Christ, get hold of yourself, lass.

Clearing your throat, you focus on your parfait, instead. "You were bloody awful to me," you mutter.

Leaning on his elbows, he cups his hands around his steaming mug and stares down into the dark liquid. "I know," he sighs. "I've been a right bastard to ya, pet, and I'm sorry."

His quick apology catches you off guard, drawing your eyes back to him again. He meets your gaze head-on, his expression sincere.

"I fucked up royally, love. Can't take it all back, but I'd like the chance t'make it up to ya." His eyes fall to your bump. "I've missed out on so much already. Don't want to miss any more."

You can't help the anger that bubbles up your throat, choking you with its bitter taste. "And whose fault is that?" you croak out, hands balling into fists on either side of your plate.

"It's mine," he blurts, grasping your clenched hands. "It's all my fault, sweetheart. Every bit of it. I take full responsibility for it and for—" He glances back to your belly again. "This."

You glare at him, pissed that you're already on your way to forgiving him, so pathetically desperate to believe he means what he says. You're not ready to let him off that easy. You need answers, and perhaps a bit of groveling.

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

He releases your hands and slumps back in his seat. "It was seeing you again, hearing what you said before you left my flat."

You sneer at him. "You mean, what I said to your bird before I left your flat? Right?"

His face crumples into a scowl. "She's not my bird, but yeah. Pissed me off, what you said, but it made me consider why ya kept insisting the baby was mine." He shakes his head, looking back into his coffee mug. "I was told there was little to no chance of me ever fathering kids, pet. It's why I didn't believe ya, but..." He heaves out another sigh. "I just had to know for certain."

"Who told you that?" you ask, surprised.

He shrugs a shoulder. "Different doctors throughout the years. I had an internal injury, it got infected, caused some scarring, damaged the pipeworks," he replies, waving a hand over his lap. "Would never have dreamed in a million years I could get someone pregnant. It's like a bloody miracle."

Pursing your lips, you drop your gaze to your plate, processing everything he's just told you. It does help explain his reaction, you suppose, but it still hurts, remembering all the awful things he said to you. But if he's truly ready to make up for it—

A thought suddenly occurs to you, making your chest feel tight. Your scalp prickles, a little green monster coiling itself around your brain. "If you didn't know your boys were swimming again, you should probably get in touch with that bird you were with, as well as any other women you've been with lately."

God, how it galls you to hear yourself say that. Not because it isn't true, but because of the jealous, catty tone you used to deliver it. As much as you hate to admit it, it would kill you to learn some other bird might be pregnant with his child.

Kyle sniffs in amusement. "No worries there, pet. Claire or Clara said I passed out as soon as I hit the bed, so nothing happened between us. As for any other birds, I've not been with anyone else of late, but even if I had, I always use protection." He smirks at your cynical look. "Well, almost always. You're obviously the one exception."

You roll your eyes and scoff a laugh. "Right. Obviously."

You have to fight not to grin, though, far too pleased with his admission. You don't want to think about what it says about you that you're chuffed to know you were his one exception. Then again, Kyle had been your one and only exception as well. How foolish would it be of you to hope—

Nope! No no no. You are not falling into that sexy man-trap again. That's already proven to be disastrous for you. Moving forward from this, your interactions with Kyle will be strictly about the baby. Anything else would just complicate things.

Right. Moving along.

With the air finally cleared between you, the two of you finish your breakfast while you attempt to catch Kyle up on everything he's missed. You can't help but be pleased by how excited he seems, even while discussing things like breastfeeding and car seats.

Then you break out the ultrasound images you've saved. The soft look of awe on his face as he flips through them does something to you. You have to ignore the little swoop of arousal you experience when he beams that sexy, knee-wobbling smile at you when you point out the sex of the baby.

"A son?" he breathes out, taking hold of your hands. "You're givin' me a son, sweetheart?"

He then draws you into his arms, splaying his big hand over your belly. "Thank you," he whispers at your ear. "I swear I'll take care of you and our boy, love. I swear it on my life."

It's harder to ignore the little puddle that forms in your knickers after that declaration.

It's hard but you manage to pull yourself away and redirect the conversation to a safer subject, namely your plans for your little bug's nursery.

"Have ya picked out a crib yet?" he asks.

You nod enthusiastically. "Yeah! It was delivered just last week. Would you like to see it?"

"Lead the way, sweetheart."

Leading Kyle to the spare bedroom that you are slowly converting to a nursery, you point to a large, thin box leaned against the wall. "That's what it will like once it's put together," you say, tapping the picture glued to the front. "I got a great deal on it. It's supposed to be top of the line."

Kyle bends to examine the box, mumbling under his breath about the crib's dimensions before turning to study the room.

"I suppose I could put it together now, but it'll be a tight fit with the rest of the furniture in here. We should probably wait until you're closer to your due date, I guess. Do it now and there won't be much room to maneuver."

Excited that he's offered to put it together for you, you wave off his concern about floorspace. "That doesn't matter. No one sleeps in here unless I have a guest, anyway."

Kyle gives you an indulgent smile and boops you on the nose with his finger. "But you will have a guest, love."

You blink up at him, confused. "What? Who?"

"I told you, pet. I don't want to miss another second of this pregnancy. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Well, yes but—"

Kyle grips your shoulders and beams his megawatt smile. "Brilliant! I'll start moving in today."

Before you can speak, he swoops in to give you a firm kiss on the lips, then strides out of the room. "Be back in a tick, love!" he calls from down the hall. "Goin' to mine to grab a few things!"

You lift a hand to touch your tingling lips, too dazed by the kiss to immediately respond. You hear your door clap shut right about the time your brain finally comes back online.

Wait. Did he just say he's—

"Moving in?!"

-

pt. 5 | pt. 7

[twst-aceofhearts]

hehe im back after a day.... saw u did my request and im super happy rn ty!! :D i dont know if its rude to request again after u just finished one and u dont have to do this immediately! buuuuttt

Can you do some twst characters with a male or GN Yuu that (non sexually) age regresses? like not to a baby type age, more of an older toddler to 1st grader age (whatever that is...) because that was normally the mental state i was in when i used to regress, for characters i would specifically like Kalim, ruggie, ortho, grim and maybe a teacher!!! any other characters if you have ideas for them are welcome!! and if u dont want to do all of them i'd like Kalim, grim, and a teacher the most!!

when i used to regress it was due to me being in bad moods or just feeling comfortable around a person enough to be able to let go for a bit, so for a scenario it could be just hanging out with the person if its more of a story type thing, if its more headcanons (which i dont mind!) you can come up with the scenario!! id love to see what you come up with :))

thanks for more amazing writings!!!!! ☀️

Small Days

𝖆/𝖓: I don't write for teachers and it was hard for me to find a groovy card of grim alone :<

𝖙𝖜: age regression

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: kalim, ruggie & ortho x reader [strictly platonic]

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘: 695

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe @oya-oya-okay @writingattemptsxx

🕌 Kalim: Sunshine and Blanket Forts

Kalim finds you curled up under the dorm’s big draped canopy one afternoon, quiet and holding a stuffed toy Ace had won for you at a festival. You’d been fine that morning, but now, your eyes were glassy and unfocused — the kind of look that told Kalim you weren’t really in your “big self” anymore.

“Hey, buddy,” he says softly, crawling under the blankets to sit beside you. “You wanna build a fort with me?”

Your eyes light up a little, and you nod. Kalim beams.

“Okay! We’ll use the cushions from the lounge and a bunch of those silly tapestries Jamil said we’re not supposed to move,” he grins. “Don’t tell him.”

As you follow him out with small, padded steps, Kalim keeps the pace slow. He gives you simple choices — red or blue blanket, pillow tower or blanket wall — and praises your every decision like it’s the best one in the world.

Once the fort is up, you both crawl inside. Kalim pulls out crayons and a coloring book from his drawer.

“I keep this stuff around just in case,” he whispers, like it’s a big secret. “Everybody needs soft days sometimes.”

🧹 Ruggie: Street-Smart Softness

You’d wandered into Ruggie’s room at Savanaclaw without saying much, dragging your oversized hoodie sleeves over your hands and hugging a plush dandelion toy. Ruggie knew that look. You were smaller today — not physically, but in the way you moved, the way you hesitated before speaking, the way you clung to him like a nervous duckling.

He didn’t say anything at first, just opened his arms and let you crawl into his lap.

“Long day, huh?” he murmured, scratching gently behind your ear like he does for little kids in the market.

You gave a tiny nod and let your head rest on his shoulder.

“Want somethin’ warm? Got some instant cocoa,” he offered. “You want a sippy cup? I got one from a job where I had to babysit a rich brat.”

You mumbled, “Yuh-huh…”

He chuckled and ruffled your hair. “Alright, squirt. Stay put.”

Ruggie moved with quiet efficiency — heating up cocoa, putting on a silly cartoon, and wrapping you in his oversized hoodie while he spoon-fed you tiny bits of bread and honey when you didn’t want to use a fork.

“People always act like you gotta be tough all the time,” he said later, your fingers clutching his sleeve. “But I think soft is tough, too. You’re doin’ just fine.”

🤖 Ortho: Data-Driven Comfort

Ortho noticed the change before you even said anything. Your stress levels had been climbing for days — schoolwork, social noise, sensory overload. When he detected your heart rate increase and vocal patterns shift mid-sentence during lunch, he gently took your hand.

“Yuu,” he said quietly, “would you like to enter a low-stimulation support environment?”

You blinked up at him, already smaller — your shoulders hunched, fingers curled into your sweater. You nodded once.

“Okay! I’ve got a safe space ready.”

He guided you to a quiet study pod in the Ignihyde dorm. The lights were soft, the temperature was optimal for calming biological responses, and Ortho had preloaded a playlist of nostalgic lullabies you’d once told him you liked.

“Would you like weighted pressure, auditory comfort, or soft tactile feedback today?” he asked, crouching beside the couch like a very gentle babysitter-bot.

You mumbled, “Hug… please?”

His eyes blinked softly. “Okay! Initiating Care Mode.”

He gently sat beside you and let you wrap your arms around him. He was warm — you always forgot he had internal heating. His metal hands moved slowly as he patted your back.

“I’ve also loaded a video of puppies playing in a basket. Would you like that next?”

You made a sleepy noise of agreement.

Ortho tilted his head. “You’re doing a great job regulating yourself, Yuu. I’m proud of you for asking for help.”

You didn’t answer, but he felt the way your grip on him loosened as you finally relaxed.

He activated a soft night light beside the couch and began humming along with the music.

“Don’t worry,” he said gently. “I’ll monitor everything. You’re safe now.”

credit to @cafekitsune for divider

[gotta-winwin]

gotta-winwin's to do list ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ) this is my official to do list for fics! pls keep in mind that the predicted posting date may be off a bit depending on my schedule - i'm currently still a student + working part time. i'll do my best to update each day! (longer fics might take more time)

i also love writing in chronological order as it keeps the plotline clear in my mind :)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨︶

Fics Coming Out This Month !

monthly special / events:

mirth and good cheer - idol!vernon x nonidol!reader oneshot release date - christmas special - christmas day! teaser! find it here! merry christmas, please don't call - idol!seungcheol x nonidol!reader oneshot release date - new years day teaser! find it here!

oneshots & fics:

to the stars - idol!jeonghan x soloidol!reader jeonghan comes home from military training missing you and awfully horny. 18+ status - find it here!

svt 14th member - hit the road series:

07. the road we walk together | SEUNGKWAN status - find it here! 08. catch your breath for a moment...and | DINO status - find it here! 09. if i walk at my own pace | VERNON status - find it here! 10. and for the ghosts that haunt me | CYANA status - coming in the new year!

svt 14th member - storyline:

back to old haunts follow us as we dive into cyana's backstory and the mystery of what the hell happened in LA! status - coming in the new year! i hear you through notes learn how woozi and cyana became closer and take a look into cyana as a producer / writer status - coming in the new year!

ot13 reactions:

reaction to being asked for their fave juno pose status: find it here!

blurbs:

12:34pm - eating lunch with seungcheol part of the 24hrs with seventeen event! status - find it here! childhoodbestie!dino x reader status - find it here! culinaryclasswars!mingyu x chef!reader status - find it here!

fics will be uploaded in no particular order - although the svt 14th member storyline will be uploaded in plot order for continuity. be prepared to be well fed with angst, fluff and lots of comfort ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) you can expect all of these to be completed by the end of dec ! (except for the ones that will arrive in the new year🤗)

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Dad!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : newborn baby ; incredibly fluffy ; Han being a cute overprotective dad ; slightly suggestive near the end ; Word Count : 0.8k Request : nope! A/N : 1 more day until I finally have a day off!! YAY!!! More dad skz fluff?!?! ABSOLUTELY!

It was late, or better yet, it was early, extremely early in the morning. It was the first night since you had brought home your daughter that she hadn’t woken up at least 5 times in the middle of the night to eat. She was finally settling into her room and for the most part, she was sleeping through the night, only waking up once to be fed and then go right back to sleep. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner to share this journey with you, Jisung was the most supportive and helpful person you could have by your side while you were not only healing, but on nights when you just couldn’t get out of bed from pure exhaustion. You were thankful to not only him, but the company as well for giving him such a long period of time off work to focus on not only taking care of you, but having time to bond with his new daughter and be a father. 

Finally being able to get some adequate sleep was something that both you and Jisung needed, but when you felt his side of the bed shift and you saw in the low light of the digital clock that he was sitting up, you immediately started to panic. Maybe it was the fact that he was giving off an aura of panic, or maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t heard anything in the baby monitor to cause him to jump up like that, or maybe it was a mixture of both that had you sitting up as well and grabbing the video monitor to make sure your baby was alright. 

“Sorry, honey.” He whispered breathlessly before letting out a heavy sigh and falling back against the pillow, his hand over his heart that you could almost hear beating in the silence that followed his words. “I could have sworn I heard her wake up… Maybe I should check on her to make sure she’s okay…” 

He started moving to get out of the bed, but you grabbed his hand, keeping him from getting up completely, and pulled him back down beside you. “Sungie, she’s fine. Look…” You handed him the monitor and his eyes scanned over the picture, focusing mainly on the sound of her tiny sighs as she slept peacefully in the room right across the hall. “You have nothing to worry about.” 

“I know…” He mumbled, handing you the video monitor for you to place on the nightstand once again. “But what if she’s hungry again? What if her nappy is wet? What if the blanket is too warm and she’s overheating? What if she’s cold? I just want her to be comfortable… I don’t want her to cry. You know… My heart breaks whenever she cries. I don’t like seeing her upset.” 

You could have sworn that in that moment your heart grew about 2 times its original size. “You are the most amazing man, the most amazing father ever, you know that, right?” You murmured, scooting closer to him and wrapping your arms around his chest. “If I wasn’t bleeding so bad right now I’d-“ 

His finger moved to your lips to stop your thoughts for a second, his eyes glancing around the room, and for a moment you thought he heard the baby again, but then he glanced down at you with a devious smile. “I’ll get the towel.” He whispered, although there was excitement in the hushed words. 

“Sungie!” You whisper shouted to him, but he was already scrambling out of the bed, his legs tangled in the blankets, but it was both adorable and somehow sexy as hell how much he wanted you, and you wanted him just as bad. “We gotta be quiet.” You said between giggles as he walked back into the room, a dark towel hanging over his shoulder as he walked over to the bed. 

“You have to be quiet. If I remember correctly, you’re the one who had the neighbors banging on the door that one time.” He said quite cockily, climbing on top of you and kissing down your neck. “You’re so beautiful… Wanna get married?” 

You snorted softly, the sound turning into a soft moan as he nibbled softly on your sensitive skin. “Sung… we’re already engaged…” You said between a mixture of moans and giggles. 

“Oh…” He paused, pushing himself up a little, his eyes lighting up and shining in the dim light of the room. “God, I’m so fucking lucky!” He cheered, his voice rising and before he had the chance to do anything more, the soft whimpering of your daughter came through the monitor. “Shit…” He sighed, pushing himself up off of you. “I’ll get her… Get some sleep, honey.” 

Your mouth hung open and your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him sprint out the door. It would be hard to sleep, especially after he got you so worked up, but when you rolled over and watched him scoop your daughter out of the crib and cradle her against his chest, that excitement dwindled and turned into adoration, love, devotion. You knew that he was the man that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, and if given the time, have maybe one or two more babies with. 

Perm. Taglist : @whatudowhennooneseesyou @duchesskaren @mytherapisttoldmenotto @lovesunshinefelix @moon0fthenight @kurolils @maruskz @hello-2-u-from-me @mrswolfiechan @bunnychangbin @his-angell @if-spearb @yomomma104 @lanatheawesome @facelesswrittes @grannyindehouse @cutie-wooyo @felixmainacc @syuuji @jiisungllvr @yukichan67 @randomwimp @silentreadersthings @cutiespaghetti @furiousheartpoetry @its-hannjisung @lixpixstix @felixluvr915 @wordsofkpop @kayleigh-28 @szkstay @spnwinchestersd @fleatree @yehsehneeah @vampcharxter @iloveksmohsomuch @lvlnijiro @neteyamsmate4life

[ac-19]

Friends or? D. Franklin (Bravo 6)

Summary: friends or more?

"Hey, I know you hate these. Say the word, and we'll find another way."

I shook my head as I looked back in the mirror at Jason who was leaning on the door frame of the bathroom I was getting ready in for the op.

"I'm good."

Jason nodded.

"You sure about going with Drew? I could send Ray with you instead."

I chuckled and put my head before I turned around to face Jason.

"No offense Jase, but I'm twenty-seven years old and I'd like to believe I look my age so I doubt anybody would ever believe Ray and I were dating. That's the reason I always went out with Clay because we were the most believable as a couple other than you and Mandy."

Jason nodded.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

I nodded.

"I can handle Drew."

Jason nodded.

"We roll out in fifteen."

I nodded as Jason pushed himself up right and walked back downstairs where the rest of the team was. I turned around and quickly finished curling my hair and applied some lipstick before I headed downstairs with the rest of the team.

"I guess you're my girlfriend now."

I shook my head as I stood beside Drew as Lisa briefed us on the mission. Next thing I knew Drew and I were walking over to the club where we were going to spend the next few hours probably hunting our target and dancing too if I had anything to do with it.

"Can we drink on these ops?"

I chuckled as I looked over at Drew.

"If you're footing the bill, yeah. As long as you don't get wasted."

Drew nodded and put his hand on the bottom of my back as we walked inside the club and through the crowd. We made our way to the bar and Drew ordered us two beers.

"I heard you used to do these missions with the other Bravo 6."

I nodded as I leaned my forearms onto the bar in front of me.

"He's got a name. Clay Spenser."

Drew nodded.

"But yeah I used to."

"You two ever?"

I started laughing.

"No. He was married to one of my best friends."

"That don't mean shit these days."

"Maybe not to you, and anyways when you're on the same team relationship's are always messy. Is all the sneaking around really worth it?"

Drew shrugged as he angled his body forward and leaned onto his left arm which was on the bar.

"Depends on the person."

I shrugged.

"I guess, but for real Clay and I we were..."

"If you say Battle Boos I'm walking out that fucking door right now."

I shook my head as I grabbed onto the beer bottle the bartender had just put down in front of us and then without a second thought I grabbed onto his hand with my free hand.

"Let's go dance for a while."

Drew quickly grabbed his beer off the bar and followed me to the dance floor. I inhaled sharply as Drew wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. I turned my head to avoid Drew's gaze and hopefully he couldn't make out the blush on my cheeks in this dark club. I swallowed my spit and breathed in as I felt his hot breath on my ear.

"Gotta make this shit believable right?"

I nodded as I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck and turned my head to look up at him only for our noses to brush against each other with how close our faces were to each other.

"Right."

"Bravo 6 and Bravo 7 check in."

Drew stood back up straight and I turned my head to look around.

"Do you see him?"

I peered over Drew's shoulder and nodded.

"Bravo 1 this is 7, he just walked in. Sitting at the bar."

"How much security?"

I leaned my head against Drew's shoulder as we swayed back and forth.

"Three men."

"Good copy Bravo 7."

"This could be classified as messy."

"Keep it in your pants 6, it's for the op."

"Right. For the op."

We spent another hour "dancing" and nothing was happening and I was getting fed up. My feet were starting to hurt and I wasn't drunk enough to be here.

"Time for another drink?"

I nodded as I looked up at Drew. He unwrapped his arms from around me and I instantly missed the warmth of his body against mine.

Focus.

He clasped his hand in mine, and we headed towards the bar and towards where our target was sitting. Drew pulled me forward and he stood flush behind me, and wrapped his arm around my waist.

"Two more please."

The bartender nodded and I took a peek over at our target who was just sitting there laughing and smoking a cigarette with his friends.

"If you don't stop moving your ass around like that, we won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

My cheeks turned a light shade of pink as I turned my head to look at Drew.

"Sorry, my feet are killing me. Moving my legs around helps a bit with the pain."

He nodded as he reached up and pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen on my face.

"Here you go."

I quickly turned around and took hold of the beer that the bartender just put on the counter.

"Shit."

"What?"

"He's gone."

"Bravo 1 this is 7 we lost eyes on the target."

"2 you got the tracker on his vehicle?"

"Negative."

"He couldn't of gone far."

"Let's go outside."

Drew nodded and grabbed onto my hand as we pushed our way outside the club. Our target was standing outside by the door smoking another cigarette and I looked over at Drew.

"You were fucking checking her out weren't you?"

I urged him to continue with my little fake fight in order to buy Omar some time to hopefully get a tracker on the guy's car.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I saw the way you looked at her."

"You're a lunatic you know that?"

"Right I'm the crazy bitch."

"You've been checking guys out all night too, including this guy. Yeah I saw the way you looked at him, what does he have that I don't huh?"

I furrowed my eyebrows at Drew. Where was he going with this? He pushed past me and walked straight up to our target.

"Excuse me sir, my girlfriend here seems to think you're better looking than me."

I quickly turned around.

"Oh for fuck sakes, I never said."

"You didn't have to say it, I saw the way you've been looking at him all night."

"I think you need to control your girl."

"Control me? Who the fuck does this guy think he's talking to?"

Drew stepped forward.

"You can't talk to my girl like that."

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do tough guy?"

He pulled his shirt up revealing a gun tucked in his waistband and I looked over at Drew. We didn't have any weapons it was time to walk away.

"This the type of guy you want babe? A short, fat fuck who clearly carries a gun for show, I bet you don't even know how to use that thing."

I took a step forward and before I could get Drew out of there the guy took a hold of his gun and pistol wiped Drew which landed him on the ground. Come on Omar, hurry up.

"1 this is 2, tracker secured."

Next thing I knew our target was kicking Drew in the ribs as he laid on the ground.

"Bravo 6 what the fuck is going on?"

I looked back and saw Jason standing in the shadows. I quickly focused my attention back on Drew and stepped forward.

"Bravo 6 cut the shit."

"Okay, okay that's enough. Lets just go home babe."

"Yeah I think it's time you take him home."

The target walked off and I quickly bent down to help Drew up.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Anything for mission sucess right?"

I shook my head as Drew stood up. The huge gash on his forehead was gushing out blood, and I sighed as I reached up to check it out.

"I'm fine."

Drew pushed my hand away softly and I nodded.

"Okay. Let's get out of here."

Drew nodded and we walked up the street and met up with the rest of the team. The ride back to the safe house was silent but Jason didn't hold back his dissapointement when we walked inside.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Jase mission was a success."

"It could of been a disaster Ray. Since when does Bravo 6 get to do as he pleases without checking in first?"

"It wasn't all Drew, I was part of it too."

"You should of known better. You told me you could handle going with Drew but clearly not."

"How is this our fault? We had to do something. We were in there for over an hour I think the better question here is why did it take Omar so long to put a tracker on the guys motorcycle ?"

"Coming after your 2IC do you want to get kicked off this team?"

"Right about now, sounds like the best fucking option to me. Clearly you don't trust Drew and I. I've been on this team for almost a year now I should of earned a little more respect than that."

"You'll earn my respect when you stop fucking things up."

"Okay, everybody take a breath. Mission sucess; who cares how we got there right Jason?"

Jason looked over at Drew.

"Get him stitched up."

I nodded and I headed towards the kitchen.

"What the hell was that?"

"Got the job done didn't it?"

"You two looking to get yourself kicked off this team?"

I ignored Sonny and got the med kit and headed towards the table that Drew was standing in front of.

"Can you sit please?"

"I'm fine."

"The huge gash on your forehead would disagree. Sit down."

Drew sighed, and plopped himself down in the chair. I could hear the snickers coming from Sonny and Omar but I just chose to ignore them.

I stepped in between Drew's legs and he let his left hand linger on my exposed thigh, from the dress I was still wearing, for a second before Sonny said something and he quickly pulled his hand away as he turned his head to look at Sonny.

"Guys you're not helping here."

"Oh come on you just need to flash Drew over there and you'll have all his focus."

"How is he not stitched up yet?"

I sighed as I turned around to look at Jason.

"I give up. Stich him up yourself."

I dropped the glue I was holding into the med kit, turned around and walked off. I shouldn't let comments like Sonny's bother me anymore, but they did. I hadn't been standing in the room by myself for more than a minute when Drew walked into the room holding the med kit.

"I'm sorry."

I shook my head as I pulled out a chair and grabbed the med kit out of Drew's hand.

"Why you saying sorry?"

"For those two idiots out here."

I chuckled lightly.

"Sit down."

"Yes ma'am."

I shook my head as I grabbed some gauze and the glue out of the med kit and started cleaning up Drew's wound.

"You know Jason is right, that was a really stupid move you pulled back there."

"Worked didn't it?"

"I guess, but you could of stopped it anytime why didn't you?"

"Because so long as he was focusing on me, he wasn't focusing on you."

I nodded as I finished cleaning up his wound and applied the medical glue before covering it up with a bandage.

"Look (Y/N)..."

"We roll out in ten."

I turned my head and nodded at Brock.

"Copy that."

I turned back around to face Drew.

"What were you gonna say?"

"Not important. We should get out there."

I nodded. We rolled out to check out another target before coming back empty. The tension was still high for the rest of the night and I was hoping that when I went down for coffee the next morning that it wouldn't be as high.

"If I'm sweet on Davis we need to talk about how Drew here is sweet on (Y/L/N)."

I stopped dead in my track as I easedropped on the conversation happening in the kitchen. I've had the biggest crush on Drew since he joined the team but no way he felt the same.

"Yeah right Sonny."

"Oh come on, we seen the way you were looking at her yesterday after the op."

"It's called acting boys. Look team relationship are messy, there's a reason why all three of us are single."

"Right."

"And one night stands are the way to go boys. You get a good fuck with no feelings mixed in."

I put my head down and headed towards the porch to get some fresh air.

"What are you doing out here?"

I chuckled as I looked over at Lisa.

"Probably doing the same thing as you, hiding from the boys."

She nodded.

"Can I be honest with you?"

I nodded.

"Always."

"Whatever is going on with you and Drew, be careful. It can get messy really quickly."

I nodded.

"You and Sonny right?"

Lisa put her head down and I smiled.

"I'm not gonna say anything, you've got my word. I just wish it wasn't so complicated."

Lisa nodded.

"You and me both. I'm just trying to warn you before you get to deep in it. Team relationship never work."

I nodded.

"Thanks for the advice Lisa."

She nodded.

"I better get back inside before Jason explodes at me again."

"Yeah he's been a little on edge this deployment. You're just doing you're job and you're pretty damn good at it so don't let Jason get to you okay?"

"Same goes to you, I heard the beating he gave you yesterday."

I shrugged.

"It is what it is. Being a women in this business is not easy."

"Amen to that."

I smiled.

"I'll catch up with you inside."

Lisa nodded and headed inside. I leaned my forearms onto the railing and sighed. Sure I thought Drew was hot and maybe just maybe we had a thing for a minute yesterday on the op but it was over now and I needed to get my head back in the game.

The next few days were spent hitting different targets and working crazy hours only to be sent home with basically nothing accomplished.

I could tell the guys were going stir crazy by how crazy the team group chat had been going off the last few days since we had been back home. I groaned as my phone buzzed again and again on my bedside table.

I pulled my pillow over my ear and groaned even further when I heard a knock on my door. I ignored the first few knocks but whoever was at the door was persistent so I rolled out of bed looked down at my over-sized Navy shirt and shruggred as I walked to the door. It was close to midnight whoever was at the door was getting me in my pyjamas.

"I swear to god if it's Sonny standing behind this door, I'm gonna freaking lose it."

I pulled open the door to my apartment and the last person I was expecting was standing on the other side.

"Drew."

Next thing I knew my back was up against the wall and Drew's lips were on mine. I quickly gained my composure and kissed him back. As much as I wanted this I couldn't do the whole one night stand thing so I pulled away and wiggled out of his grip.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't do this if it's going to be a one night stand thing."

"What are you talking about?"

"I overheard you one morning talking with Sonny and Omar in Thailand and you said one night stands were you're thing, a good fuck and no mixed feelings, but I can't do this not without feelings."

Drew just smirked as he walked over to me.

"Ever since that night in the club, I keep telling myself I don't have feelings but I do. I like you (Y/N). A lot for that matter and I know this is going to be messy but I don't think I'll ever be a one night stand only guy when it comes to you."

Without another thought I smashed my lips against Drew's and wrapped my arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist. Davis' word were somewhere in the back of my mind but right now I could care less.

This felt right, and when something feels this right you don't try and fight it right?