#he shouldn’t have to face this kind of abuse

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN ━━ Know It’s For The Better

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 5.2K

☆ ━ warnings: mentions of abuse and conversion therapy, dani’s going through it

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: bob bueckers is the goat of this fic btw

PAIGE IS SPRAWLED across her bed when the first buzz from her phone makes her look up from the ceiling. Her thoughts have been restless all evening, but she’s too tired to scroll through TikTok or do anything productive, like finish her chemistry homework. The soft glow of her screen lights up the room, and she groans, stretching a hand toward the nightstand to grab her phone.

She squints at the text.

Thaliah Sommers

you need to come over rn

Paige frowns, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she blinks at the clock. 11:47 p.m.

She doesn’t answer immediately. Her dad’s downstairs, the TV still on, and she can practically feel the weight of her grounding like a shackle around her ankles. She’s already walking a fine line after The Party Incident. What could possibly be so urgent that Thaliah thinks she’d risk adding more fuel to her dad’s already burning fire?

Still, her curiosity gets the better of her.

Lil Paigey

What

Why?

The reply comes almost instantly.

Thalia Sommers

it’s abt dani

she’s over here completely inconsolable

something happened with her dad

Paige sits bolt upright, the words hitting her like a slap. Dani. Her dad. Completely inconsolable. Paige’s stomach twists into knots, her heart thudding in her chest as her grip on the phone tightens. She’s never heard Thaliah use words like that about Dani before. Dani isn’t the kind of person who falls apart in front of other people. Dani’s strong—she holds things together, even when she shouldn’t have to.

Paige stares at the screen, her thumb hesitating over the keyboard. Thaliah’s next text hits before she can respond.

Thaliah Sommers

p you’re the best person to be here for her in this kinda situation

The knot in Paige’s stomach pulls tighter. It’s true. It’s more than true. As far as she knows, she’s the only person Dani’s told about the stuff that happened over the summer, the way her dad treated her. So, she needs to go and be there for her.

Lil Paigey

I’ll be there soon

Her hands are already moving, throwing off the blanket and fumbling for her sweatshirt on the chair by her desk.

Her heart pounds in her chest, nerves coursing through her like electricity. This is serious. This isn’t just sneaking out for something stupid, or to meet Dani for a late-night endeavor. This is… something else entirely. Paige can feel it in her bones, an icy undercurrent of fear twisting with her determination.

Her keys jingle as she grabs them off her dresser, the sound too loud in the quiet house. She tiptoes down the stairs, her feet barely making a sound against the hardwood. The living room glows with the flicker of the TV, her dad’s shadowed figure reclining on the couch.

Bob doesn’t look up at first, but as soon as Paige’s hurried footsteps hit the last stair, he pauses the TV. “Where are you going?” His voice is low, even, but there’s an edge of suspicion there.

Paige freezes, turning to face him. She’s already halfway to the door, her sweatshirt zipped up and her shoes only loosely tied. “I need to go over to Thaliah’s,” she says quickly, keeping her voice as steady as possible.

Bob raises an eyebrow. “What? It’s almost midnight, Paige. On a school night.” His tone sharpens. “And don’t forget that you’re grounded.”

The reminder hits her like a slap, but Paige doesn’t have time to care. She throws her hands up, exasperated. “No, I’m serious. I need to go.”

“You need to stay right here,” Bob counters, crossing his arms. “You’re grounded for a reason, Paige. Throwing a party and lying about it isn’t exactly something I’m going to forget in two days.”

Paige’s frustration boils over. She doesn’t have time for this. “Dad, it’s about Dani!” she snaps, her voice rising.

But Bob doesn’t flinch. He holds her gaze, unyielding. “You see Dani every day at school,” he says evenly. “She can tell you whatever it is tomorrow.”

Paige’s breath catches, and she shakes her head furiously. “No, you don’t get it! It’s—it’s about her dad!” Her voice wavers, the tears she’s been holding back starting to brim in her eyes. This is making her really fucking anxious, not something she’s very used to.

Her phone buzzes again, and she glances at it, her stomach sinking at Thaliah’s words.

Thaliah Sommers

can you pls hurry

Panic blooms in her chest, spreading like wildfire. Dani needs her. The thought makes her throat tighten, her heart clench painfully. Paige has never heard the words “Dani” and “inconsolable” in the same sentence—especially not from someone that isn’t herself, that doesn’t know about certain things. Whatever happened tonight, whatever her dad did or said, it was enough to break her.

Paige turns back to her dad, her voice cracking as she pleads, “Please, Dad. Please. I need to go.”

Bob looks at her, his brow furrowing, his mouth pressed into a line. It’s the kind of look that makes Paige’s stomach churn. He knows something is wrong—anyone would with the way she’s nearly crying—but his sigh is heavy, as if he’s already preparing for the fight. “Paige,” he starts, his tone a warning, calm but firm.

She doesn’t let him finish. She can’t. Her nerves are fraying, her heart pounding in her chest. The thought of Dani being inconsolable at Thaliah’s house, waiting for her, makes it feel like the ground is falling out from under her feet. She knows she has to say it, has to explain, or her dad will never let her leave.

“Okay, okay,” she stammers, her voice breaking as she starts to ramble, her thoughts spilling out in a rush. “Do you remember how Dani didn’t talk to me for, like, three months? And I was really depressed during all of it?”

Bob’s face softens just slightly, a flicker of concern breaking through his confusion. “Yes…” he says slowly. “I thought it was really weird. The two of you have always been inseparable.”

“Exactly!” Paige blurts, waving her arms for emphasis. The words tumble out of her, frantic, almost incoherent. “So, um, the night before I left for USA Basketball stuff, we kissed. And Dani’s dad—he found out. And he’s, like, insanely homophobic, like you wouldn’t believe, so he sent her to—” She stops, catching her breath, willing herself to say it even though the word tastes like poison. “He sent her to conversion therapy over the summer.”

Bob blinks at her, his face going blank with shock.

“That’s why she didn’t talk to me,” Paige continues, the words pouring out like water through a crack in a dam. “That’s why she was gone for so long. And when she finally came back, she wouldn’t even look at me until she eventually told me everything, and I—God, it was horrible, Dad.” Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her voice breaking again. “And now Thaliah’s saying something happened with her dad again, and Dani’s at Thaliah’s house, and apparently she’s completely inconsolable, and Thaliah’s begging me to come, and I—I need to go. Please, I’m literally begging you. Just let me go.”

She stops, out of breath, her hands shaking. Her dad just stares at her, unmoving, his expression unreadable. The silence stretches long enough that Paige feels the edges of her panic fray even more.

Finally, Bob exhales sharply, his jaw tightening. “He sent her where?” His voice is low, almost dangerous.

Paige swallows hard, feeling the weight of the truth all over again. “Conversion therapy,” she says softly, barely above a whisper.

The words hang in the air like a thunderclap. Bob’s face hardens, his lips thinning, his eyes dark with something Paige rarely sees in him: pure, unfiltered anger.

“That man,” Bob says slowly, his voice a low rumble, “is about to hear from me about this.” He stands abruptly, his movements sharp and purposeful, his focus entirely elsewhere as he steps toward the door.

“No, no—not yet!” Paige says, stepping into his path, her hands raised to stop him. She’s face-to-face with him now, their matching heights making the confrontation feel heavier, more personal. Her voice wavers as she pleads, “I need to figure out exactly what happened with Dani first. Please, Dad. Just—just let me go?”

Bob’s eyes search hers for a long moment, the fury still simmering behind his gaze. But then, with a sigh, he relents. “Okay,” he agrees, stepping back.

“Thank you!” Paige says quickly, already moving past him, her relief palpable as she rushes for the door. She bolts outside, her keys jangling in her hand.

By the time she’s in the car and speeding toward Thaliah’s, her hands are still shaking, her heart still racing. But all she can think about is Dani.

And when Paige finally pulls up to Thaliah’s house, the first thing she notices is Dani’s car parked at the curb. The sight sends a jolt through her chest—part relief, part anxiety. At least Dani’s here, at least she’s safe for now. Paige barely remembers to throw her car into park before she’s out and hurrying up the front steps.

She rings the doorbell and waits, shifting on her feet. Her hands are still shaking, and she tries to steady them by gripping the edge of her sweatshirt. The door opens, and it’s Thaliah’s mom who answers. Paige recognizes the flicker of relief that crosses her face before she even says anything.

“They’re downstairs in the basement,” Thaliah’s mom says, her voice soft but firm, like she knows whatever’s going on is serious.

Paige nods quickly, murmuring, “Thank you,” before stepping inside. The house feels familiar—she’s been here a million times before, for study sessions, movie nights, and sleepovers—but tonight it feels different. Heavier. She moves through the hallways and down the stairs like she’s on autopilot, her heart pounding harder with every step.

As she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she sees the back of Dani and Thaliah’s heads. They’re sitting on the couch, facing the TV, though it isn’t on. Thaliah has her arm draped across the back of the couch, and Dani is curled into herself, her knees pulled up to her chest.

The sound of Paige’s sneakers hitting the bottom step makes Thaliah whip her head around. She spots Paige instantly and stands, her shoulders dropping like the weight of the world has just been lifted. “Paige!” she exclaims, her voice low but insistent, like she’s been waiting for her.

At the sound of Thaliah’s voice, Dani glances over her shoulder too, and Paige’s heart clenches the moment their eyes meet. Dani looks wrecked. She’s not crying, but her eyes are red-rimmed, her mascara smudged under them in streaks. She looks tired, hollow, like whatever fight she had in her is gone. It’s the defeated expression on her face that twists something deep in Paige’s chest.

“Hey,” Paige says softly, stepping closer but keeping her movements slow and cautious. Her eyes flick between Thaliah and Dani, and she hesitates before asking, “What happened?”

Dani looks away almost immediately, burying her face against her knees as though she can’t bear to speak. Thaliah, standing beside the couch, looks down at her best friend with so much quiet concern that it makes Paige’s throat tighten. Thaliah glances back at Paige, then, her expression soft but heavy with meaning.

“I’ll leave the two of you to talk about it,” Thaliah says gently. She leans over Dani, brushing a hand across her shoulder before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you, Dan,” she murmurs.

Dani doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even lift her head, but Paige sees her hand twitch slightly, like she’s trying to acknowledge it but doesn’t have the strength.

Thaliah circles around the couch, her movements purposeful but quiet. When she reaches Paige, she stops and touches her arm lightly, leaning in to whisper, “Be gentle with her, yeah? It’s bad.” Her voice is barely audible, but the weight of her words crashes over Paige like a tidal wave.

Paige nods, her chest tightening. “Okay,” she whispers back.

Thaliah squeezes her arm, a fleeting but grounding gesture, before heading upstairs. Paige watches her go, listens to the sound of the door closing behind her, and then turns back to Dani.

The silence feels deafening now, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. Paige’s heart squeezes painfully as she takes a slow step forward, her eyes fixed on Dani’s small, crumpled figure on the couch. What did he do to you this time? she wonders, the question clawing at the edges of her mind. But she pushes it back for now. She needs to handle this right.

Paige approaches the couch cautiously, her heart pounding. She sinks onto the spot next to Dani, careful to leave a few inches of space between them. She doesn’t want to overwhelm her. Dani looks so small, curled up like she’s trying to make herself disappear.

“Hey,” Paige murmurs, leaning down a little to meet Dani’s gaze. Her voice is soft, coaxing, but there’s an edge of worry she can’t hide.

Dani turns her head, her cheek resting against her knees. Her eyes meet Paige’s, and for a fleeting moment, Paige sees something there—relief, maybe, or just a flicker of recognition. Dani gives her a small, wobbly smile, but it’s hollow, completely devoid of any real emotion. “Hey,” she mumbles back, her voice so quiet it barely registers.

Paige’s chest tightens as she watches Dani’s eyes begin to water. The sight makes her stomach churn. She reaches over slowly, brushing her thumb beneath Dani’s left eye, wiping away the streak of mascara that’s smudged there. Her hand lingers, her thumb gliding over Dani’s cheek before she cups it gently. Dani doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t lean into the touch either.

“Dan,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and tender. She searches Dani’s face, trying to will her to open up. “Talk to me, baby.”

That seems to break whatever fragile dam Dani’s been holding up. Her lips tremble, and then she’s crying—really crying. It’s not just the silent tears from earlier; this is raw, uncontrollable, chest-heaving sobs. Paige sighs softly and pulls Dani into her, letting her fall against her chest.

Dani buries her face in Paige’s neck, and Paige feels the wet heat of her tears soaking into her skin. She wraps her arms around Dani’s back, holding her close, pulling her even tighter when Dani lets out a particularly gut-wrenching sob. She’s practically in Paige’s lap now, her knees pressing against Paige’s thighs as Paige strokes her hair in slow, soothing motions.

“It’s okay,” Paige murmurs against Dani’s temple, though she doesn’t know if it is. She doesn’t know if it ever will be.

Dani’s sobs quiet just enough for her to choke out words. “He found out about us.”

Paige freezes. The words hit her like a punch to the gut, though deep down, she’s not surprised. She’d had a feeling, from the moment Thaliah texted her, that this had to do with either their relationship or Dani’s sexuality. She takes a slow breath, letting the words sink in, before resuming her gentle strokes through Dani’s hair. “Okay,” Paige hums softly, coaxing her to continue.

Dani sniffles, her voice shaky and broken. “He saw Beau’s dad… and he thought we were still together, so he went and talked to him. And then Beau’s dad told him that he and I had been broken up for months. And I guess Beau told him that I left him for a girl.” Dani’s voice cracks, and she lets out a bitter laugh that turns into another sob.

Paige’s stomach knots tighter, but she stays quiet, letting Dani keep going.

“My dad came home,” Dani continues, her words tumbling out faster now, like she can’t stop them. “He looked around my room, and he found one of your sweatshirts… and a note you’d written. And that picture of us from Friday.” Dani’s voice breaks completely this time, and Paige feels her heart twist painfully. “And he—he was so mad.”

Paige presses her lips to Dani’s hair, closing her eyes against the flood of emotions rising in her chest. “You could’ve called me,” she murmurs, her voice thick with guilt.

Dani lets out another sob, clutching Paige’s shirt tightly. “I would’ve,” she chokes out, “but he broke my phone. Threw it across the room.”

That makes Paige pull back slightly, just enough to look at Dani’s face. Her hands slide down to Dani’s sides, holding her gently but firmly. Paige thought this was just a verbal fight—like always. But him doing that is different, scarier. It makes her even more worried than before. “Is that all he did?” Paige asks, her voice carefully measured. “Just break your phone?”

Dani hesitates. The pause is just long enough to make Paige’s heart hammer in her chest.

“Dani,” Paige says, her voice breaking. The name comes out like a plea, like a desperate attempt to pull the truth from her.

Dani finally looks at Paige, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “He told me he was gonna send me back to camp,” she mumbles, her voice barely audible. “To conversion therapy. Whatever you want to call it.” Her shoulders shake as she exhales a shuddering breath. “And I fought back—told him I couldn’t do it, didn’t wanna go. And he didn’t like that.”

Paige swallows hard, her throat dry. She thinks she knows where this is going, but she still asks, her voice trembling, “What did he do, Dani?”

Dani shrugs, like she’s trying to downplay it, but her eyes betray her. They’re swimming with tears, and when she speaks, her voice cracks again. “He hit me.”

The words hang in the air like a physical blow, and Paige feels her whole body tense. Her hands tighten on Dani’s sides, not enough to hurt but enough to ground herself. Her breath catches, and for a moment, she doesn’t trust herself to speak.

Then, finally, she whispers, “Oh, Dani,” her voice breaking completely. She pulls Dani back into her arms, holding her as tightly as she can without hurting her, her own tears beginning to well up. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to fix this. All she can do is hold her and hope it’s enough, even though she knows it won’t be.

Paige keeps holding Dani as she sobs into her shoulder, her whole body trembling like she’s been holding this in for far too long. Paige’s chest tightens with each choked sob, her throat burning from the effort of holding back her own tears. The only thing grounding her right now is Dani in her arms—and the sharp, unrelenting hatred boiling in her chest for the man who did this to her.

She’s never hated anyone more than Dani’s father. Never. Not in her entire life. The thought of him makes her blood run hot, her fists clenching involuntarily. Because how could anyone hurt Dani? Sweet, kind, radiant Dani, who’s never done anything but try to survive in a world that’s never made space for her. Paige wants to storm over to that house right now, face him herself, but she knows she can’t.

What she can do is make sure Dani never has to see him again.

“You’re gonna stay with me and my dad, okay?” Paige whispers, her voice resolute. She presses a kiss into Dani’s hair, her lips brushing against the crown of her head. “I’m not letting you go back in that house, Dan. No way.”

Dani pulls back slightly, her tear-streaked face turning up to meet Paige’s. She’s shaking her head before Paige even finishes speaking, her eyes wide and filled with worry. “Paige, I—I can’t just intrude like that,” Dani stammers, her voice hoarse and cracked. “That’s not—It’s just unrealistic.”

Paige shakes her head right back, her determination unwavering. “No,” she says firmly, her hands holding Dani’s shoulders like she’s trying to physically keep her from running away from the idea. “You heard what your dad said—he’ll send you back. And I won’t let it happen. I swear to God, Dani. I won’t let it happen.”

There’s a silence between them, heavy and charged. Dani’s eyes search Paige’s face, and Paige doesn’t waver, her jaw set, her expression steady. She doesn’t care what it takes. Dani is not going back to that house.

Finally, Paige sighs, her grip on Dani’s shoulders loosening slightly. Her voice softens as she says, “My dad knows.”

Dani stiffens. Paige feels it, the way Dani’s muscles tense under her hands. Her eyes widen just a fraction more, her lips parting slightly like she’s about to say something but can’t find the words.

“I had to tell him tonight,” Paige explains, her voice steady but quiet. “He never would’ve let me leave otherwise. He knows about the camp. About your dad.”

Paige braces herself, half-expecting Dani to lash out, to yell at her for breaking the promise they made—the one where Paige swore she wouldn’t tell anyone about the camp. Dani had been so adamant, so insistent that no one could ever find out. But as Paige watches Dani’s face, she doesn’t see anger. She doesn’t see betrayal.

Instead, Dani looks… thoughtful. Her brow furrows slightly, her lips pressing together in a way that looks more like worry than frustration.

So Paige continues, feeling a flicker of hope. “He was so mad when I told him, Dani. He wanted to go give your dad a piece of his mind right then and there. I had to convince him to let me come here instead.” She pauses, her thumbs brushing against Dani’s arms in soft, soothing motions. “I promise you, he’d much rather you stay with us and be safe than have you over there. You’re like a second daughter to him—you know that.”

Dani doesn’t say anything right away. Her eyes drop, her gaze unfocused as she processes Paige’s words. Paige can practically see the wheels turning in her head, the way her mind is working overtime to reconcile everything Paige just told her.

“I just… I don’t want to be a burden,” Dani whispers finally, her voice so quiet Paige has to strain to hear it.

“You won’t be,” Paige says immediately, her tone firm and certain. “You’ve never been a burden to me or to him. You know that.”

Dani’s eyes flicker up to meet hers again, and Paige sees the doubt there, the fear that’s been drilled into her by years of living in that house. Paige feels her heart clench again, but she keeps her voice steady, her hands gentle as she cups Dani’s face.

“You’re not going back there,” Paige says softly, but there’s steel in her voice. “Not now. Not ever.”

Dani blinks rapidly, her tears threatening to spill over again, and Paige brushes them away before they can fall. Dani’s lip trembles, and she looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. She just nods, barely, like she’s too tired to fight anymore.

Relief floods through Paige, but it’s tempered by the ache in her chest, the overwhelming need to protect Dani from everything she’s been through—and everything she’s still scared of. Paige leans forward, pressing her forehead gently against Dani’s, her hands still cradling her face.

“We’ll figure it out, Dan,” Paige murmurs. “I promise. We’ll figure it out together.”

And for the first time all night, Dani doesn’t argue. She just closes her eyes and lets Paige hold her, her breath hitching softly as she leans into the only safe place she has left.

THEY STAY at Thaliah’s house that night, Thaliah’s mom bustling around with warm reassurance, pulling out an air mattress and piling it with blankets and pillows until it’s soft and inviting. Paige murmurs a quiet “thank you” as the woman pats her shoulder gently before retreating upstairs.

Dani hasn’t said much since they agreed to stay, her eyes rimmed red and her voice a little hoarse. She stands off to the side, clutching the borrowed sweatpants and oversized T-shirt Thaliah gave her like they’re a lifeline.

When the mattress is ready, Paige takes Dani’s hand, threading their fingers together and giving a reassuring squeeze. Dani follows her lead without protest, crawling onto the air mattress after Paige and letting her guide them both under the blankets.

They settle into the space slowly, Dani lying on her side and curling into herself like she’s trying to make herself smaller. Paige isn’t having that. She shifts closer, wrapping her arms around Dani and tugging her gently into her chest. Dani resists for a second, her body stiff and hesitant, but then she sighs and gives in, letting herself melt into Paige’s hold.

Paige nestles her chin against the top of Dani’s head, her hand running slow, soothing circles over her back. Dani’s knees are drawn up, her body curled tightly against Paige’s. Paige shifts her legs around Dani’s, tangling them together as much as the narrow mattress will allow. Her other arm rests beneath Dani’s neck, cradling her head and keeping her close.

For the first time all night, Dani seems to relax, her breathing evening out as she lets the exhaustion take over. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep, her face tucked into Paige’s collarbone, her breath soft and steady against Paige’s skin.

But Paige doesn’t sleep.

She stares up at the ceiling, her eyes tracing the faint outlines of shadows cast by the streetlights outside. Her mind is an endless loop of everything Dani told her tonight—every word, every broken sob, all of it.

It makes her stomach churn, her jaw clenching in helpless anger. She doesn’t know how someone can treat their child like that. She doesn’t know how Dani’s father can even look at her and not see what Paige sees: someone so good, so kind, so deserving of love. The thought that he could hurt Dani—his own daughter, the girl Paige loves more than anything—nearly sends the blonde into a frenzy.

But then Paige looks down at Dani, sleeping soundly in her arms, and the anger softens into something else. Relief. Gratitude.

Because Dani’s safe now. She’s not in that house. She’s not alone. Paige tightens her hold slightly, pressing a soft kiss into Dani’s hair.

It’s not enough—not nearly enough—but for tonight, it’ll have to be.

DANI STANDS on the sidewalk with Paige and Bob, the three of them staring at the house that used to feel like home. Now it feels like something else entirely—something hollow, suffocating, and cruel.

Dani hugs herself tightly, trying to ignore the way her chest tightens at the sight of it. She hears Bob’s steady voice beside her, low but firm, a grounding force she hadn’t realized she needed.

“In and out,” Bob says, his hand a reassuring weight on her shoulder. “You get everything you need, and that’s it. You never have to go back in there after this.”

Dani nods, her throat too tight to speak.

The morning had been a blur. Paige drove them to her house, Dani’s car still parked at Thaliah’s with the promise to retrieve it later. She barely had time to register the familiarity of the Bueckers’ front porch before Paige’s dad had pulled her into a hug—tight, warm, and safe. It was the kind of hug she hadn’t felt in years, and she melted into it, clinging to him like she was afraid she might disappear.

Paige must’ve told him everything already. Dani didn’t know how much detail Paige gave him, but it was enough to bring a protective light to Bob’s eyes when he looked at her. Enough for him to immediately agree that Dani could stay with them for as long as she needed. The relief she felt was overwhelming, but it was fleeting. Because now they were here, and she had to face the remnants of last night.

The front door creaks slightly as Bob opens it. The house is silent, but it feels like the walls are holding their breath. Dani steps in cautiously, every nerve on edge despite knowing her dad’s at work.

Bob glances at her, his tone gentle but insistent. “Go upstairs. I’ll stay down here, just in case.” He bends to pick up her photography bag from where it’s still lying on the floor from last night, slinging it onto his shoulder. “You two just get what you need. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

Dani nods again before she and Paige head up the stairs. Each step feels heavier than the last, the air thick with memories she doesn’t want to revisit. Paige is close behind her, her hand brushing lightly against Dani’s back in silent support.

When they reach her room, Paige touches her arm gently. “Let’s make this quick,” she says softly.

They grab two suitcases from the closet, Dani’s hands shaking slightly as she unzips them. Paige doesn’t waste any time, moving to the dresser and pulling out clothes, folding them neatly before stacking them in one of the suitcases. Dani busies herself with the bookshelf, grabbing journals, books, and anything else that feels important.

Her hands hover over a small stuffed bear, one her mom gave her when she was a kid. She picks it up hesitantly, running her fingers over the soft fur before placing it in the suitcase.

Then she sees the photo.

It’s a picture of her and her mom, taken on a trip to the lake years ago. They’re both laughing, her mom’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. Dani picks it up, holding it close to her chest. For a moment, she can’t move. Her mind spirals into the what ifs. What if her mom were still alive? Would any of this have happened? She doesn’t think so.

Paige’s voice pulls her back again. “Dan?”

Dani blinks, glancing over at Paige, who’s watching her with careful eyes. “I’m okay,” Dani murmurs, but she doesn’t let go of the photo. Instead, she keeps it tucked under her arm, making sure it’s secure.

They keep packing, working quickly and efficiently. Paige moves with purpose, her focus unwavering as she gathers Dani’s things. Dani feels a lump rise in her throat at the sight of her—Paige, who shouldn’t have to be here, shouldn’t have to be dealing with any of this, but is anyway.

When the suitcases are full, Dani takes one last look around the room. It feels emptier now, stripped of anything that made it hers. A part of her feels relief, but another part feels a strange sense of loss.

Her childhood is over.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

Paige notices her hesitation and steps closer, placing a hand on her arm. “Ready?”

Dani nods, even though she’s not sure she is.

They head back downstairs, where Bob is waiting with the rest of Dani’s things. He smiles encouragingly. “Got everything?”

“Yeah,” Dani says, her voice quiet but steady.

Bob takes one of the suitcases from her, leading the way to the door. As they step outside, Dani feels the weight in her chest start to lift, just a little. She glances at Paige, who gives her a small, reassuring smile.

Things are gonna be a lot different now.

But, Dani thinks, they may also be better.

[mebiselfandi]

The whole victim-blaming of Vinicius Jr being ‘out of control’, an ‘instigator’ and ‘provoker’ is so bullshit. How sick in the head do you have to be to try and make excuses that he somehow deserves all this racist abuse. Just because Vini is black, he’s painted as someone with horrible anger issues who loves to start things. Then tell me why his first red card ever was today? Majority of the time he lashes out or gets angry it’s because a player, a fan or a ref are being racist. And the way the narrative is always twisted is just sickening. If even a quarter of these things happened to a white player, everyone would be up in arms to defend them. But because he’s black nobody does anything. Nobody cares. Not his teammates, not the club and certainly not the league. The well-being of a player especially a black one is water under the bridge to them as long as their making money. They simply do not care enough even if that player is as big and important as Vini. And to make matters worse, it’s not just Vinicius who faces these attacks. So many are swept under the rug because it’s easier that way. How many attacks are happening not only to Vini but to other black players behind the scenes? How much are these leagues not holding themselves accountable for? How much longer is this going to keep happening?

Even if Vini was the biggest instigator ever, responding with racist abuse is never the answer. It’s not a fault on the player, it’s a fault on you.

[mars-ipan]

i do love my family very dearly but the internalized ableism the men in here struggle with is. so much

[beneathashadytree]

A TASTE OF HONEY - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : insecurities & body image issues, chubby & curvy!reader, mentions of stretch marks, body worship, praise kink, marking, very mild breast & nipple play, implied cunnilingus, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Genre : smut n loooots of comfort☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 1.4K words

Additional notes : This was a paid commission I made of a lovely OC with Sylus, and this version is just the slightly more non-specific version I took permission from my commissioner to post, so that all fem!readers can see what my commissions are like! If you’re interested let me know💗

Commissions are open here!

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Masterlist

“Another event, another dress with your name on it, sweetie.” Sylus’ grin as he walked into their bedroom would’ve almost been infectious, had her mood been entirely different than it currently was. Right now, though? His words seemed to have cast a curse onto her.

She had to fight against her growing irritation. It’s not his fault, he didn’t do anything to deserve it—unlike the majority of the times he’d earned her ire. This time, the dismayed feeling in her chest at the sight of the exquisite dress draped onto the back of the dresser’s chair was entirely because of her own racing thoughts.

“Skipping out tonight,” she simply mumbled under her breath, collapsing onto the bed with weary bones and an exhausted expression like she’d run a hundred miles. And she really had, just inside her head.

Sylus—ever perceptive Sylus—frowned at that, taking a seat at the edge of the bed beside her. “Tired?” Concern filled his eyes, and it only grew worse as she seemed to curl in on herself and burrow deeper into the mattress. “I could cancel.”

With a sigh, she shook her head “You’re Onychinus’ leader. You have to be there. My moods shouldn’t dictate whether or not you go.”

“You have the privilege of commanding me to do whatever you want. I say you abuse that right.” It was clear from his teasing tone that he was trying to get a lighthearted reaction from her, and upon receiving none, his voice turned softer. “Seriously, what’s wrong, darling?”

Her grip tightened on the bedsheet, blinking back the tears as she trained her gaze on her fingers. “I just… don’t want to wear that dress.”

Sylus was silent for a few moments, before he nodded. “Okay. Is it not to your liking?”

“Not really.” With a shuddering breath, she sniffled a little, trying to calm herself down as Sylus’ hand gently stroked her calves in a soothing motion. There was no point in getting so worked up after all, it’s always been the same. “Those types of dresses always show my stretch marks. They’re… kind of short. And tight. And weird-looking on me.”

Screw not getting worked up; her tears were dripping down her face at this point, her vision blurry and her heart heavy with each word that spilled forth. “It feels like every single one of these outfits makes my thighs look big, and my body’s not made for wearing them. It’s just… wrong, like I’m unworthy,” she choked on the last word in despair.

She could hear Sylus sighing, a twinge of sadness she’d never heard before lacing his words. “You couldn’t be more wrong.” Firm in tone, yet not unkind, her boyfriend leaned in and rubbed her forearms gently, making sure to meet her watery eyes as he did. “These dresses only show just how breathtaking you are, and how you belong by my side.” A crooked grin made its way on his face. “If anything, it feels like I have to earn my place next to you.”

“No! You—”

“See how absurd it sounds?” His deep voice was soft as he gently nudged her on her back, climbing in on top of her as his fingers delicately brushed back her hair. “I can never get enough of you. Of every inch of you. I almost refuse to believe you.” His gaze grew impossibly softer, voice even quieter, and his hand even gentler as it traced down her ear, rhythmically stroking at her neck. “But I know that really is what you’ve driven yourself to believe. And I can’t blame you for that.”

Wiping at her own cheeks, she tried her best to make herself feel less sorry. “It’s no one’s fault but mine. It’s not like anyone else has been telling these things to me.” What on earth was she doing, crying to him over dresses? Or her appearance at some stupid events? Or was it simply her body? She didn’t know at this point. All she knew was that she wanted to stop feeling so distraught over something so…

Before she could continue that train of thought, Sylus had silenced her rushing brain with a slow, open-mouthed kiss and a steady grip on her waist. Even now, he was ever the tease, nipping at her lower lip and huffing out a fond laugh as he heard her breath hitch, before pulling back. In half-defeat, he said, “Maybe I’m the one to blame for neglecting to remind you of what I think of you.”

He peppered kisses down her jaw and to her neck, his teeth grazing and sucking at the warm skin there. With a hiss, her hand reached out to pull him closer by the back of his head, and all he could breathe out against her was a stilted, “How often I think of you.” Practiced hands almost blindly pulled down the strap of her silk slip for more access, as he left his bold marks across her neck. His hair tickled her, but she reveled in the feeling even more as he traced a path down the top of her breasts.

They were heaving with the effort of having to pretend she wasn’t falling apart at the seams with his mere touch, and he let out a half-groan as his hand reached out to cup one, while he sucked more hickeys onto the flushed skin of the other. It was too much, but somehow not enough to ease the growing ache between her legs. “Sy,” she whispered, a plea in his name, quickly turning into a whimper of pleasure as his tongue boldly flicked at her nipple through the silk. “Don’t be cruel.”

“Mm. I could never. My pretty girl likes it when I indulge her, I know,” he muttered, ruby eyes flicking up to meet hers and pinning her down with just a gaze as he kneaded at her soft breasts through the thin fabric, his touch burning through her like wildfire. “Tell me where you want me. What you want me to do, to show you how I could never stop wanting you and your body.”

Swallowing thickly, her fingers dug into his silvery hair, like it was second nature, guiding him where she needed him the most. “Want your lips on me, please,” she whispered, as if it were explanation enough for the sudden dizzying heat of the room, and her eyes swimming with unwrought desire. “Tell me you want me like this. I… I need it. Need you.”

The chuckle that spilled from Sylus’ lips was lovesick, and then his large palms pushed her smooth slip up to her waist and expertly tugged down the ruined lacy underwear. “As if I could stop wanting someone so divine.” He sweetly kissed her navel, then completely diverted from his path for a second to squeeze at her thighs, hooking them up on his broad shoulders.

Even between her legs, he looked invincible—more so when he maintained their intense, passion-riddled eye contact as he suckled at the skin of her inner thighs. “So sweet, so perfect right in front of me,” he sighed, almost in just as much pleasure as she was while he brushed his thumb back and forth near the apex of her thighs, mapping out every stretch mark under his adoring touch, and giving her hips a firm squeeze as his hands wandered everywhere they could reach.

Her head was filled with cotton, all her senses consumed by him and all he was. “I can spell out just what you want me to say with my tongue instead.” The very prospect of it sent even more molten heat pooling to her core. Sylus’ tongue would be her undoing. She knew it, her body knew it, and his grin that turned wicked meant that he could see perfectly well just how dripping wet the idea made her.

That smirk was almost predatory; like she was his prey, all prepped and prettily pinned for him. It shouldn’t have aroused her so badly, knowing that he’d torture her with sheer blinding pleasure and a sinful tongue, and yet she could feel herself clench around nothing. He was her undoing, and always would be, especially when his voice was such a low purr. “And you can ride my face until you can translate every filthy word. What do you say, sweetie?”

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[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 5

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

The silence in the room was so oppressive Zahra could almost feel it pressing down on her skin, crushing the very air from her lungs.

All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, thumping in her chest with a steady, pounding rhythm. She could feel Azriel’s gaze on her, but she didn’t dare to look at him.

Zahra wouldn’t be able to bear seeing the pity in his eyes.

And she knew it would be there. 

Her hands were so tightly clenched in the sheets that her muscles ached. Her eyes were still squeezed closed, trying to keep in the tears.

Gods, she couldn’t cry.  Not in front of him. She’d already bared enough of her soul to the male. He knew far more about her than anyone else in the world. 

And that realisation was terrifying.

She hadn’t wanted anybody to know. She hadn’t wanted anybody ever to find out. 

It would have been her secret to take to the grave with herself. 

Nobody would have needed to know, right? 

Not even her mate. She would have gladly kept it a secret from him too. Would have gladly never told the male fate had in store for her, how broken exactly she was. How…destroyed she was. 

Zahra swallowed, feeling the warm and large hand around her own. He was too gentle with her, too careful to touch her.

She didn’t deserve that gentleness. Didn’t deserve it when she was the one that had been damaged and broken and used. “Zahra,” Azriel whispered, his voice deep and quiet. “Please look at me.”

And so she did look at him, even when she didn’t want to…looked at this man that she loved…the tears that filled them pooling but not falling. She looked at him, meeting his gaze, and her heart ached at the sight of him.

His lips were set in a grim line, a frown creasing his forehead. His eyes traced across her face, scanning every little part of her. She didn’t want him to look at her. Didn’t want him to see…her like that.  Didn’t want him to see the ugly and jagged edges that stuck out like spikes… The shadows swirled and curled over his body in an almost protective barrier.

And still…he was so gentle…so kind. 

“You’ve survived so much,” Azriel said quietly. “So much pain and horror. And you…you don’t deserve any of this. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, none of it. He hurt you, and you were hurt for years.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed heavily.

A tear finally escaped from her eye, trickling down towards her temple and into her hair. 

Years. 

She had lost count of how often it had happened. She didn’t want to know an exact number either. She didn’t even want to think about what he had done to her. 

She didn’t want to remember. 

Azriel seemed to sense that. 

“Do you want a bath?” Azriel asked her, still holding her hands. “Wash off the blood? The shadows can help you.”

She took an uneven breath, her eyes still locked on his face. Zahra hated how gentle he was being, how careful and soft and concerned for her he was. She didn’t deserve either his care or his concern. 

She…she shouldn’t…

She didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve that kindness and that gentleness.

Still, she nodded. 

Bath. Clean. As clean as she could get anyway…

His hands, warm and large, reached out to her. And when he scooped her up like she weighed nothing…she was too tired and pained to protest. 

It still ached…deep within her. 

And she hated it. 

Zahra rested her head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. She felt the shadows whisper soft touch against her skin, as Azriel carried her into the bathroom, the bathtub already filling…he lowered her into it, hot water lapping at her skin.

She slumped against the side of the bathtub, letting her eyes flutter closed. The hot water felt strangely soothing against the pain and ache of her body.

“The shadows are here if you need anything,” Azriel said softly. “If you need anything, just tell them. I’ll put clean sheets on the bed.”

She couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of him dealing with her bloody linens. 

“You don’t need to do that,” she protested. He didn’t need to… her sheets were drenched with her blood. 

He stilled, and Zahra could almost hear the frown creasing his forehead.

“I am not about to leave you here to change them yourself,” Azriel said drily. “I can just about manage to put fresh sheets on a bed.”

“They are drenched in blood,” she replied weakly. He knelt down beside the tub, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

“I have dealt with blood my whole life. It doesn’t matter,” he promised her.

Yeah, but that hadn’t been…that had been blood spilt from a wound and not…

His mouth was set in a grim line, anger simmering in those dark eyes, as he saw the shame on her face. “Don’t,” he said sternly. “Don’t you dare think for even a minute that I find you…repulsive or tainted, because of this, or because of what happened to you and what you’ve had to do. You’re not. ”

She swallowed, still able to hear the undercurrent of anger in his voice. It wasn’t anger directed at her, but it was anger all the same.

Every thought and emotion Zahra was feeling was swirling in a confusing, chaotic torrent in her mind. She was so tired, but her brain would not be silent. And it kept going over the same thing, over and over.

“But I am,” she said hoarsely. “I am tainted.”

His eyes darkened at that, and he clenched his jaw. The shadows around them grew even darker, swirling agitatedly in the air.

“You aren’t,” he disagreed firmly. “The things that have happened to you…gods above, they should never have happened. But they didn’t taint you. ”

“Of course they did,” she snapped. It was like all the anger and pain and bitter resentment that she’d smothered away and locked deep in her chest was bubbling up, escaping past her attempts to keep it hidden. “Of course, they did! If you know what he did to me, you wouldn’t even be able to look at me!”

He took it. All the rage that she was throwing in front of his feet because she needed throw it at somebody… he didn’t flinch. He didn’t back down. 

He weathered it. He reached out…one of those horribly scarred hands cupped her cheeks instead. 

“I would,” he disagreed with her. “I refuse to let you think that whatever happened has somehow lessened you in my eyes, that it somehow makes you unworthy or tainted.”

She couldn’t stop the new trickle of tears that escaped from her eyes, the pain in her heart and her body too damn overwhelming.

“How?” She asked hoarsely. “How can you say that?!”

These hazel green eyes met her own. 

“Because I care about you, Zahra, and I can’t stand you thinking that this….this horrible, vile thing has changed anything,” Azriel promised her fiercely. “And because…because you are my mate. And nothing will ever change that. ” 

No. No, this wasn’t… he couldn’t be her mate. He couldn’t be…He…

He was too good for her. Too kind. Too…too gentle. 

This perfect, scarred, beautiful male. One of the fiercest warriors in the Night Court. The Shadowsinger. Her mate.

How could he even entertain that thought. 

He wiped away the tears that trickled down her cheeks, endlessly gentle as tears ran down her face. “You’re stuck with me,” Azriel said hoarsely. And I don’t care what you’ve had to do or what you had to sacrifice. This will not change what you mean to me.”

Her chest was aching so painfully she could hardly breathe, and it was like her heart was breaking itself apart with grief and shame.

He said he didn’t care what she’d had to do. But he hadn’t let her speak of the worst of it. He didn’t know, he didn’t know.

“You might change your mind when you know everything I’ve done,” Zahra whispered.

His hand paused, the scarred palm cupping the side of her face. “No,” Azriel said firmly. “I won’t. And don’t think that I can’t guess half of what you had to do. I know that you had to endure far, far more than anyone should ever have to, but it changes nothing between us,” he promised her.  

“Take that bath,” he said softly. “You don’t need to decide anything. Not right now. I’ll change the sheets and then you can go to sleep. And we’ll talk whenever you are ready.”

Her eyes were burning again and her heart twisted, but she nodded. She wanted to protest and argue and insist that she was alright, but he wouldn’t listen to her anyway.

“Fine,” she whispered. “Alright, I’ll—alright.”

Everything hurt. Her body ached as it had after the worst of it, ached and hurt.

She scrubbed at her skin until it was red and raw, as though she could wash away the memories and the pain and the shame.

But despite the hot water, it felt as though she was freezing, and the memories kept floating into her mind.

She could hear Azriel move in the other room, heard the steps he knew were only audible because he wanted them to be.

It was comforting, hearing those footsteps. Hearing him move around just beyond the door, so close and safe and near to her.

Zahra almost told him to come back, just so she could see him and be with him for a few more moments. But she didn’t. It wasn’t fair to him to be around her while she was like this, not when he deserved so much better than her.

She floated away into the numbness, her eyes closing. She felt the shadows jostle her gently, but she didn’t even react. They had never hurt her before. 

Why should she flinch away from them. 

“Sunshine.” Her eyes only opened weakly. Azriel was back. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Her limbs felt strangely and eerily disconnected from her body, even as Azriel’s hands moved her out of the tub, as the shadows wrapped her into a towel…even as they helped her into a fresh nightgown, letting them move her like some kind of strange lifeless doll. 

Azriel scooped her up into those strong arms, holding her against his broad chest. 

She thought that she should protest. That she should struggle and fight and insist he put her down. But when she was held so close to him, all she wanted was to rest her head against his shoulder...all she wanted was to nuzzle into the warmth of him. 

He laid her gently down on the mattress. The sheets were clean and fresh, smelling of crisp soap, and her bed was soft and warm beneath her.

He went to move away and leave her, but before he could, she reached out and fisted her hand in his shirt.

She forced her eyes open, forced herself to look at him…and then she felt it.

The unfurling of something inside her chest. Something warm and safe and secure.

The bond. The Mating Bond.

Even as the realisation sank in, the link between them flared with that feeling. Warmth and safety and a fierce, possessive protectiveness that she had never felt before.

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she could see the realization dawn in his expression.

He’d felt it too. Felt the bond snap into place between them like a line of rope, tying them together in a way they could never untangle.

“Stay.“

He blinked, his eyes flickering over her face.

And then, without a word, he climbed into the bed.

He laid down next to her, and he pulled her gently against him. His arm wrapped around her waist, one wing came down to cocoon her and she felt more comfortable and safe than she ever had before.

“Rest,” Azriel said again. “Just sleep. It’s alright.”

She shut her eyes, letting the tiredness crash down over her. She breathed in the scent of him, of that cedar forest scent mixed with rain and mist.

He was safe, and she was protected. And for the first time in years, she allowed herself to relax into the touch and comfort.

And for the first time in a long time, her sleep was dreamless. 

***

Zahra was sleeping. Her face was still pale...but she had curled up against his side, and her breathing was even and deep...

She was his mate. His mate.

He had waited 500 years for her. And now he had found her, in Zahra.

In his friend. Because that's what they had become. Friends.

Though he had been a horrible friend for not even realising even a smidgen of what had gone on.

Part of him felt like he should get up and walk away. Let her sleep and not disturb her rest.

But the other, louder part of him that was utterly possessive and protective of her wouldn’t let him even think about it.

He wanted to hold her. Wanted to wrap his arms around her and keep her safe. The urge to protect and comfort and have her as close as possible was overwhelming.

As was the urge to slaughter that human man who had dared to lay a hand on his mate. We’ll kill him, his shadows hissed. Slowly. Hurt him until he begs for mercy.

His shadows had always been somewhat possessive of him. Over the years they’d even become somewhat protective towards the other members of the inner circle... but never had Azriel ever seen them react with this kind of anger.

This wasn't anger. This was fury.

It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the shadows would be upset by what had happened to Zahra. But they were.

The thought of hurting the man wasn’t even a consideration. Azriel would gladly tear the human limb from limb for what he’d done.

He couldn't help but snarl silently, as he remembered everything she had told him.

His hands clenched unconsciously, his arms tightening around her body in a protective vice. She was his mate, and he would do anything to keep her safe now.

Azriel had never had this desperate protectiveness before. It was the bond, he told himself. His mate instinct taking over his brain, making him want to guard and defend and keep her.

Ours, his shadows hissed. Ours, ours, ours.

She was his mate. And no one was ever going to touch her again. No one was ever going to hurt her. Not physically, or emotionally.

He and his shadows would keep her safe. They’d keep her with them, safe and secure and loved for the rest of her life.

No one would ever hurt her again. Ever.

Not that human male. Not any fae. He would lay waste to the entirety of Prythian to make sure that Zahra would be safe.

Every single instinct was screaming at him to keep her here. To keep her close, where she was safe and protected and no one could harm her.

She was his mate. A part of him. The thought of her being in danger, of being hurt, made him feel sick to the stomach.

He would burn Prythian to the ground if it meant keeping her safe. He would start a war, he would do anything.

And he counted their family into this equation as well. Before some of the treatment that Zahra had received from her sisters had upset Azriel, had felt unfair. Now...now he was so fucking furious that he didn't trust himself not to rip out Nesta's throat the next time he saw her.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this angry with his family. He might have felt hurt or annoyed, or even frustrated....but he had swallowed it all down. Hadn't wanted to have that argument...hadn't wanted....But now...

Now though... now it was anger and fury and a vicious protectiveness.

The thought of how they’d all treated her before—how they’d laughed or joked or been rude or simply ignored her—made his blood boil.

How dare they treat her like that? She was his mate.

His own family had done this to her. His own family, her own sisters, had treated her so cruelly for all this time. And they hadn't known what Zahra had sacrificed for their survival...didn't know what she went through on a daily basis as a result of it.

Either she was treated like she didn't matter or like she didn't exist. Ignoring her and berating her in equal measures.

His jaw hurt, his teeth gritted together as he thought about the way they’d treated her.

Zahra had put up with it. She’d taken it all, silently. And that only made him angrier. Because she’d allowed them to treat her like she was a burden like she was nothing. She’d never complained or spoken about it, even once. Like she didn’t deserve anything else. Like she wasn’t worth more.

They would not do that anymore. Ever.

Azriel was done.

No one was ever going to treat her like that again. 

Even the thought of it made his jaw hurt. He’d never felt this furious before. The thought of what they’d done to her…his own family…

He’d thought they would do better. Thought that the inner circle were all…better than that. Thought that they wouldn't be so heartless. But they’d ignored Zahra, over and over again.

His shadows hissed, writhing angrily around him, and he had to bite back the urge to snarl.

Because he himself hadn't been better either until it had been nearly too late.

He had been so blind. So utterly useless, not to have seen how she had been suffering and struggling...

Not to have realised that he’d been missing out on a beautiful, kind, intelligent female. Just because he’d been so absorbed in his own pity party.

He should have done better.

He would do better now.

He’d never make this mistake again. Not when it came to his mate.

He didn’t deserve her. He knew that much. But he would spend the rest of their goddamn lives together until he made up for how he’d been so blind.

He deserved nothing. He deserved to have his head on a spike for being so stupid.

But he would spend the rest of their days paying this debt.

He would keep her safe.

He would never allow her to feel small or insignificant again.

He would make damn sure of that.

He tightened his grip around her. She was curled against his side, her head laid against his chest. She was safe. She was safe.

His arm was wrapped around her protectively, and he thought, for the first time, that he understood how Rhys felt about Feyre. Understood that desperate, possessive, protective urge.

She was his. And he would not allow a single person to hurt her ever again.

Not even himself.

He would take care of her.

He would do anything to keep her safe. To keep her healthy and happy and loved.

She was his mate.

He reached out for that mental tether that Rhys kept for him and yanked at it sharply.

The reply came just as quickly.

What is it?

Rhys’s mind voice echoed into his head.

I need to talk to you, Azriel replied, as Zahra shifted a little against his side, her arm moving across his chest. Now.

It's the middle of the night, Rhys said drily. If you are having one of your temper tantrums, can it wait until tomorrow?

Azriel wanted to bristle. He didn't.

I met my mate, he cut off Rhys. I figured you would like to know that. I’ll take the rest of the week off. You’ll have my reports on your desk come tomorrow.

The mental silence on the other end of the mental link was enough to tell him that Rhys had been shocked.

Your mate, Rhys’ mind voice finally echoed. You’ve found your mate?

Yes, Azriel replied, as Zahra shifted a little again, her arm rubbing over his chest.

There was a pause, and he could practically see the disbelief and surprise on his brother’s face.

Who is it?

Good Night, Rhysand, he shot back.

And he cut the link between their minds before Rhys had a chance to protest.

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag VIII (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

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summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

~

“Rafe would never…”

Sarah’s loud huff reached your ears as you shrugged at her, making yourself some breakfast. The man in question was sleeping in, breathing evenly when you left his room. You’d been sleeping over at his house more as of late, and while Rafe was under the impression it was some attempt to show how bad you felt for ‘defending’ JJ at that party weeks ago…

Only you knew the truth.

JJ had kissed you.

…and you’d kissed him back.

His show of ‘taking it’ did not in fact make you feel better because you both knew it was a lie—a poor attempt to absolve you of responsibility. To lessen your role in it when in truth…you hadn’t even tried to fight back. Not really. You’d allowed it to happen, and you couldn’t decide if you regretted it or not. On one hand, the kiss was something you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks, and on the other…

You’d cheated on your boyfriend.

The thought of what you did made you nauseous, and not because you didn’t want to hurt Rafe…but because you didn’t want him to hurt you. You thought about that day JJ had smiled at you in The Wreck, back when you barely even knew him, and you thought about how you’d smiled back—something so harmless. You would never forget the feel of that gun in your mouth. You would never forget the fear that weighed down on you.

Heavy enough to make you call the police.

You’d allowed something to happen that shouldn’t have, but that didn’t mean it needed to happen again. Hiding one kiss from Rafe was doable. Hiding anything more… You didn’t even want to let your mind wander into dangerous territory. There wasn’t going to be anything else to hide, and yet…even as you thought that…you couldn’t help but to entertain the thought.

You really really liked being around JJ, and to make matters worse, you liked kissing him even more. It had sparked something in you that you weren’t sure you liked. You recalled how on edge you’d been that night. So much so that when Rafe kissed you, you’d been eager to kiss him back. What kind of girlfriend were you to imagine someone else while having sex with your boyfriend?

It wasn’t right, and you couldn’t afford to make another mistake, and that’s why you weren’t keen on the conversation you were having with Sarah at the moment.

“Come on,” Sarah pleaded. “We’re literally going to be at Kie’s house instead of John B.’s because of you.”

You paused, eyeing her.

“I know that Rafe will never be convinced to let you go all the way to The Cut, so Kie offered up her place,” Sarah explained with a shrug. “Her parents are out of town, and they reluctantly approved having some friends over.”

You thought on that with a small frown.

“…and it’ll just be us girls.”

That eased your worry, and you sighed.

“Say the word, and I’ll talk to Rafe myself. He already knows I think he’s way too controlling with you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll argue with him about this until I’m blue in the face.”

You eyed her again, chewing on your lip at the thought. You’d had a lot of fun the last time you hung out with them, and the knowledge that JJ wouldn’t be around did make you feel better. After that night in front of your pool house, you weren’t sure you trusted yourself around him. He made you feel things that reminded you too much of what it was like to be…happy.

It was an addicting feeling.

“…okay,” you reluctantly said to her, voice soft.

Sarah’s half smile was wicked, and you chuckled at her, watching her run upstairs with a shake of your head.

You didn’t quite understand why Sarah had taken it upon herself to pull you into her social life, but you didn’t think you were mad about it anymore. Rafe was your present and future, and as much as the thought depressed you, you imagined your future would be a lot bleaker if you weren’t at least friends with his sister. Wheezie was great too, but she was so much younger than you.

When Rafe finally came downstairs almost an hour later, you didn’t need to be a genius to know that Sarah had woken him up in order to plead her case. Your boyfriend didn’t look the most enthusiastic when your eyes met his, and you fixed him with a pleading look of your own.

“It’s just going to be the girls,” you quietly reassured him as he neared you. “…and we’re going to be at Kiara’s.”

“That’s reassuring,” he snorted, and the sarcasm was strong in his tone.

You resisted the urge to sigh.

“What do you think is going to happen with Sarah, Kiara, and Cleo?” you argued. “Worst case scenario we watch movies, get drunk, and you have to pick me up.”

You could see the thought process behind Rafe’s eyes, and when he eventually gripped your chin between his fingers, relief filled you. Rafe’s kiss was soft, lips gently touching yours, and like with many kisses in the weeks passed, you couldn’t help but to think about whose it wasn’t.

“I guess I can humor Sarah, so I won’t have to hear her bullshit,” he murmured, and you gave him a small smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she was trying to steal you from me.”

Rafe’s tone was humorous, but you swore there was a glimmer of seriousness in his gaze. Despite that, you gave a nervous chuckle.

“No one can steal me from you, Rafe.”

He eyed you, tracing his gaze over your face, and you swallowed as Rafe tilted his head.

“I know that,” he said matter-of-factly. “…and you know that too.”

When he kissed you again, you kissed him back.

“What? Cleo, you have to come,” you told her. “I’ll invite you myself.”

You could hear Sarah and Kiara making some more drinks in the kitchen behind you. The girl before you made a face, and you laughed at the disgust there.

“Spending all night with a bunch of stuffy Kooks? No, thank you,” she said with a shake of her head.

You took another sip of your drink with a hum.

“It’s actually more fun than you think,” you reassured her. “…and plus you get to dress up like a princess.”

“You are an actual princess, so of course you’d say that.”

“Are you guys talking about Midsummers?” Sarah wondered, rejoining you two. “Y/N, give it up. You’ll never get Cleo to go in a million years.”

She handed you a new fruity drink.

“Kie is technically a Kook, and even she doesn’t like going.”

The girl in question sat down across from you, and you looked at her in wonder.

“Really? Why not?”

The brunette wasn’t the most talkative with you, but that didn’t stop you from trying. You recalled Sarah’s comment about Kiara’s distrust—something you didn’t blame her for—but you were relieved to see that she was loosening up around you. Even if it was only because of the alcohol.

“…because it’s classist and consumerist, and a gross display of the disparity in wealth on this island. I mean, it’s full of people discussing the pros and cons of a second home when other people on this island need a second job to get by,” she told you. “The whole thing disgusts me.”

Kiara said all of this evenly, like it was something that easily flew off of her tongue, and you found yourself gazing into your drink.

“I guess I never thought about it like that…”

…and you hadn’t. It was such a regular part of your life that you had never seen it in an even remotely negative way. You always loved going to Midsummers, dressing up and taking part in something you’d never thought to question. Kiara was right, you supposed. Outer Banks was the kind of place where you either had two jobs or two houses, and you found yourself thinking about a familiar blond.

JJ’s less fortunate circumstances had never been lost on you. After all, you recognized your privilege to have a pool house and offered it to him. However, you had never stopped to really think about the somewhat ridiculousness of that though. The fact that you even had an extra house—no matter how small—to offer him.

You took a sip of your drink.

“I promise I’m not trying to radicalize you or anything,” the other girl sighed. “I just hate all the grand tone deaf displays on this side of the island.”

You were just about to tell her that it was more than okay when Cleo perked up.

“Is someone outside?”

You frowned at her, but Sarah and Kiara turned towards the window, and Sarah’s groan made your heart sink for some reason.

“I told them it was just going to be us girls,” she complained, pushing herself to her feet.

She swayed a bit as she did, and you were reminded of how many drinks you’d had. You didn’t need to be a genius to know who she was talking about, and—out of nervousness or confusion on what to do with your hands—you downed the rest of your drink. You stood on unsteady feet, silently making your way to the kitchen just as you heard John B.’s voice.

“Plenty of times you’ve crashed guys night,” you heard him laugh. “Sucks, doesn’t it? Hey, whose car is that outside?”

You focused on making another drink as Sarah told him it was yours, and surprisingly, your heart wasn’t threatening to leap out of your chest. You blamed the alcohol for your calm demeanor because you knew that if you were sober, you would be a lot more panicked at the arrival of John B., Pope…and JJ.

You hadn’t seen the blond since that night, but you had seen the occasional light on in the pool house, so you knew that he was periodically sleeping there. You didn’t exactly know how you were going to act around him, now. After all, he’d kissed you and touched you in ways that a friend definitely shouldn’t. Doubly so since you had a boyfriend.

You paused to think about that, wondering if you could call JJ a friend. He couldn’t be your friend and trying to refer to him as one seemed so disingenuous for so many reasons. For starters, JJ made it very clear that he had no intention of being your friend, and all he’d done since that day was prove that to you. JJ couldn’t be your…anything.

When you reentered the living room with a fresh drink, he was standing by the couch where Kie sat. The brunette was talking to Cleo and Pope about something while the blonde’s eyes focused on you the moment you stepped into the room. You tried to ignore the way he straightened, and the way he eyed you, glancing away and taking a sip of your drink.

You were thinking to yourself that you should leave…but you weren’t exactly in any condition to drive and calling Rafe would only lead to trouble. You really didn’t want to fathom how he’d react to pulling into the yard and seeing John B.’s van. As if reading your mind, Sarah left her boyfriend and hurried over to you.

“I know they’re not supposed to be here,” she started.

“Yeah,” you slurred. “It’s literally the only reason Rafe let me come.”

Sarah pressed her lips together, and the sheepish look on her face let you know that you weren’t going to like what she said next.

“John B. wants us all to go back to The Chateau…”

“Sarah.”

You were drunk, but not too drunk to ignore what an incredibly bad idea that was for you. Your eyes were wide as you looked at her, and she reached for you.

“He’s going to bring us back later tonight,” she explained. “They’ll be gone, and you can call Rafe to come get you.”

“Why do I have to go? Why are we going, anyway?”

Sarah rolled her eyes.

“…because JJ rolled a few blunts, and Kie does not want her parents’ house smelling like weed. Which is valid, I guess…”

You sighed as she trailed off. Even if you weren’t several drinks into the night, you’d probably still be tempted to go. However, if you were sober, you knew that you’d turn the suggestion down without hesitation and stand firm in that. At the moment, though, you were incredibly interested. You didn’t want to ruin everyone else’s fun, and in truth, you enjoyed sitting around fire with Sarah’s friends. The plan sounded solid in theory, but you were unsure…

“I don’t know, Sarah…” you glanced away, ignoring JJ’s gaze. “If Rafe found out I went to the other side of the island with you…”

Just as Sarah was about to speak, the last person you wanted spoke instead.

“She can stay for a little bit, Sarah, and then I’ll drive her back.”

Your eyes met a familiar blue pair, and Sarah turned around with a smile. JJ’s hands were shoved into his pockets, and despite the fact that he’d said it to Sarah, his gaze was focused on you. He swiped his tongue between his lips as he waited for what you had to say, Sarah eventually joining as she turned to look at you again.

“My bike’s at John B.’s, so I can take you back whenever you want,” he said with a shrug.

It was odd. You recognized that JJ was the last person you should be around, and yet, all you wanted to do was take him up on his offer. Were you really about to risk fucking up so badly just to steal twenty minutes alone with JJ? You eyed him, and just then your phone vibrated, heart skipping a beat when you saw a text from Rafe. You stared at the words on the screen for a minute, reading them over and over again.

Rafe wanted to know what ‘you girls’ were up to…and with shaky fingers, you told him you were about to watch a movie, buying yourself two hours. Carefully placing your phone on the side table, you told the two blondes in front of you ‘okay’. Sarah beamed while you simply avoided JJ’s heated gaze.

You were nursing a beer while Sarah drunkenly told the story of how she lost her virginity to John B.—in a church of all places. Your gaze was focused on the dirt and grass beneath your shoes, not really a participant in the conversation. Cleo was to your left…while JJ was to your right, and the presence of the blond was getting harder and harder to ignore.

The ride over had been awkward for you and sitting around a fire with Sarah’s friends felt even less so. Already drunker than you would like to be, you’d declined Pope’s offer when he’d tried to pass you the blunt in the van on the way over. The last thing you needed was to become even more paranoid than you already were.

You’d left both your phone and your car at Kie’s, but you couldn’t stop worrying that something was going to go wrong. You’d told Rafe that you were about to watch a movie, hoping he’d get the hint not to reach out to you for at least two hours, but it would be just like him to call or swing by unannounced. You knew this was a bad idea, and now even more so because you couldn’t even relax enough to enjoy yourself.

“What about you?”

You didn’t get the hint that Kie was talking to you—not even when JJ tensed—until Sarah made a very loud noise of protest.

“No, no, absolutely not!” the blonde loudly said, waving her arms. “What did I say about asking Y/N sex questions?”

John B. snorted.

“First time stories barely count, to be honest. They’re almost always bad…and short,” he chuckled.

“I don’t care,” she cried, pressing her fingers to her eyes. “She’s dating my brother.”

“…yeah, but we’re talking about her first time. That…”

John B. trailed off at the look Sarah gave him, and you sheepishly shrugged when everyone slowly looked at you.

“Unfortunately, Sarah is correct in her assumption,” you admitted. “My first time does involve Rafe.”

There was a visceral and audible reaction at that, and Sarah looked vindicated.

“Yeah, move on to someone else,” she pleaded with a laugh.

The brief mention of Rafe had your heart sinking again, and as Cleo’s voice filled your ears, you were pulled from your thoughts by the feel of JJ’s fingers grazing yours. You flinched from shock, glancing up to meet his gaze as he reached for your beer. No one else was paying attention, too busy laughing at whatever Cleo said.

You didn’t look away from JJ as he took your drink, watching as he brought the bottle to his own lips. The sight reminded you of what it’d felt like to touch those lips, and you could feel yours parting, sharply inhaling as you tried to force yourself to look away. His blue eyes looked between yours, and JJ spoke when he lowered his hand.

“Whenever you’re ready to go…just let me know,” he whispered to you.

“I’m not,” you replied just as quietly, taking your beer back.

When Pope suggested firing up the hot tub—otherwise dubbed as The Cat’s Ass—you declined. JJ did too, and none of them gave it a second thought as Cleo asked Sarah if she had an extra bathing suit top lying around John B.’s place. You took the opportunity to stand, pausing as the world spun a bit, before making your way to the dock.

Even if his footsteps were quiet, you knew that JJ was following you, and trying to keep yourself from doing something you’d regret again, you continued the conversation from earlier.

“What was your first time like?” you wondered with a smile, passing him your beer.

JJ seemed to see right through you, respecting your decision to avoid the elephant in the room, and he chuckled. You sat down at the end of the dock, looking up at him as he stared out into the water. The blond made a face, and you chuckled.

“Uh, it pretty much goes how you would expect,” he lightly said. “Except for Sarah obviously…”

JJ sat down next to you.

“Some girl I was really into…we had a few beers at her place while her parents were gone and…it lasted all of three minutes,” he proudly said. “I was fifteen.”

You rested your chin on your knees.

“Was she pretty?”

JJ threw you a crooked smile.

“She was,” he told you. “Are you jealous?”

You rolled your eyes, looking out into the water.

“You’re not my boyfriend, JJ. Why would I be…”

He didn’t respond right away at that, and again, you wracked your brain as to how you would avoid talking about what happened the last time you saw him. You were torn between wanting to talk about it, wanting to kiss him again, and just plain running away. A conversation with JJ didn’t seem so harmless, now. Not after he’d kissed you and flat out told you that he didn’t respect your relationship nor your boyfriend.

“What about your first time?”

Somehow, you hadn’t expected that, and you tensed.

For a brief moment, you were back in the Cameron house, trying to back away from Rafe as he yelled at you about something so insignificant. Your chest clenched painfully as you recalled that day, and you blinked, clearing your throat.

“You don’t want to hear about that.”

“I know it was with Rafe, but…I can forget that for the sake of this conversation, I promise,” JJ teasingly said, a hand on his chest when you looked at him. “Scout’s honor that I won’t gag.”

You gave a light laugh, straightening and shaking your head.

“Trust me, JJ, it’s not really something you want to hear.”

There was a brief pause.

“What? Was…was it that bad? Are you telling me Rafe Cameron is bad in bed? Who would’ve thought,” he mockingly commented.

You looked at him, opening and closing your mouth before letting out a sigh.

“It wasn’t like that,” you slowly told him with a sad smile. “I just mean… It’s kind of a mood killer. Not exactly a nice story.”

You could recognize that all of the drinks in your system had you being less reserved with your words than usual, and you watched JJ blink. A slow frown formed over his features, and you watched him run his gaze over you.

“What does that mean?” JJ slowly asked. “Are you saying he hurt you or something…?”

“No,” you were quick to argue. “No, it’s not…”

You huffed, looking out at the water.

“That’s not what I mean,” you sighed. “I just mean it’s not a fun little campfire story.”

“…and I’m asking you what the hell does that mean?” he chuckled, but it didn’t sound humorous. “Like…you realize you’re scaring me a little, right?”

When you looked at JJ again, you could see how true that was, and your chest lowered as you exhaled through your nose. You turned away from him again, taking in the sight of the half moon’s reflection in the water. You could feel JJ’s gaze on you as you thought it over, realizing that he wasn’t going to drop it, and if you were just an okay liar when sober, you could only imagine how bad you were when you were drunk.

Taking back the beer, you quickly drank the rest of it, hating the way your words slurred a bit when you spoke.

“It was…maybe about a month after my nineteenth birthday,” you mumbled, staring at the water despite not really seeing it. “…and Rafe was…mad.”

You shook your head, remembering the venom in his voice and the way his nostrils flared and that plain old mean look in his eyes.

“It was so stupid…and I was so confused,” you said with a frown. “…and I just wanted to leave and talk about it in the morning.”

You scoffed, reminded of Rafe cornering you against the wall.

“…but Rafe wouldn’t let me. Every time I tried, he… He wanted a fight,” you shrugged. “…and then he grabbed me…”

You could see him shaking you as you stared out into the water. You could see it like it happened yesterday, and you could hear him screaming at you and sneering at you before shoving you so hard you fell against the counter. There hadn’t been any point in trying to get up…and then he was there—on you and tearing at your dress.

“…and,” you quietly dragged out. “He just didn’t care what I wanted.”

You forgot all about JJ as you watched yourself scream and push against your boyfriend. To this day, you didn’t know if the alcohol in your system that night helped or hindered you. You swore that it made the memory that much more vivid, but at the same time, maybe it dulled it much more than you knew. As you remembered Rafe’s panic when his family pulled up and the way he all but dragged you upstairs, you forgot that you were sitting on John B.’s dock all the way on the other side of the island.

For a moment you were back in that house on that day, crying on the floor of Rafe’s bedroom.

You forgot that you weren’t actually there…until JJ spoke.

“Are you joking?”

His question came out harsh, startling you, and when you looked at JJ again, there was a deep frown on his face. His brows were tightly drawn together, and his lips were parted, a mixture of confusion and disbelief and horror covering his features.

“You are joking, right?”

You licked your lips, trying to gather your thoughts.

“JJ…things were…really bad then-.”

“What does that mean? ‘Bad then’…what…?” JJ scoffed, pressing his head into his hands. “What does that mean? What does that even mean because what you just described…”

JJ gestured to you, wide eyes blinking.

“He raped you,” he stated in shock. “You just told me…that your boyfriend…raped you, and all you can say is that things were bad then?”

JJ’s voice was getting louder, and you looked towards the yard, relieved to hear the rest of them still laughing in the hot tub.

“I’m saying that that doesn’t really happen anymore and…”

You trailed off when JJ stood, following his lead, and you absolutely hated the way he was looking at you.

“This has happened more than once.”

He said it more like a statement than a question, but his tone indicated that he wanted an answer…or more specifically confirmation.

“I’m just saying that this isn’t as big of a deal as you’re trying to make it,” you breathed. “You know Rafe. You’ve met him, you’ve fought him, you know what he can be like!”

JJ just stared at you, not moving, and you nervously peeked towards the yard again. JJ noticed, and he blinked at you, a look on his face that you couldn’t place. Yes, what Rafe did was wrong, but you couldn’t exactly flat out say why you stayed with a man who raped you. You didn’t have much choice but to downplay it, attempting to get JJ to see it your way, but it turned out that your efforts were in vain.

“Does he hurt you?”

The question came out so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him, and once it registered, you froze. You could hear your heart thumping in your ears, and the rest of Sarah’s friends sounded so far away. Your vision swam for the briefest of moments, and you touched your temple. Your drunk brain was scrambling, and you answered too late.

“What?” you whispered.

JJ blinked a few times, lips parting, and you watched him reach up to run his hands through his hair.

“I feel like an idiot,” he whispered. “I feel so stupid.”

Your breath was shaky, and you shook your head.

“JJ, no, it’s not… It’s not like that,” you slowly tried to explain.

That seemed to make him angry, and the look JJ gave you made your blood run cold.

“No?” he wondered, nostrils flaring. “Alright, okay.”

He reached for his phone, turning from you.

“I don’t really feel sober enough to take you home, so hey. Why don’t I get Rafe’s number from Sarah, and since it’s not like that, he’ll only be a little mad-.”

He cut himself off at the feel of you yanking on his sleeve, forcing him to a stop. Your fingers were digging into his skin through the fabric when he turned to face you, and your lips were trembling, but you both knew it wasn’t from the cold. Your gaze was pleading when his eyes met yours again, and JJ’s jaw ticked at your silent—but obvious—answer to his question.

The blonde’s gaze softened as he stared at you, and you could see the reality of the answer to his question finally hitting him. He slowly fully faced you, pressing his lips together as he looked at you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was going over every interaction in his mind.

“Please don’t tell Sarah,” you whispered, and JJ looked at you in disbelief.

“That…that’s what you’re worried about?” he gasped. “You don’t want me to tell Sarah? Fuck Sarah, I should be telling the police.”

“You don’t get it,” you choked out with a shake of your head, fighting back tears.

“Don’t get what? What am I not getting? Why are you still with…? How long has this been going on?”

You turned away from JJ, pressing the tips of your fingers to your forehead. JJ followed you down the dock, and you only realized you were crying when your face felt so much colder.

“Why-?”

“He will kill me!”

When you looked at JJ again, you were full on sobbing, now. You pressed your hands to your neck, staring at him through your tears as JJ just stood frozen. You glanced away, pressing one hand to your mouth while the other wrapped around your waist. You hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but once you did, it was like you couldn’t stop.

“You don’t think I’ve tried to leave? Huh?” you cried. “You don’t think that I’ve tried to break up with him? Tried to…fight back?”

“Hey,” JJ whispered, approaching you.

“He’ll kill me,” you sobbed. “…and this isn’t-this isn’t something I think, this is something I know. He’s tried to before.”

JJ paused at that, but it was brief, and he quickly pulled you into his arms. He tightened them around you as he held you, trying to shush you, but it was a futile attempt. You didn’t know if it was all the drinks you’d had—or simply the feeling of finally telling someone—but you couldn’t stop crying no matter how much you tried. In the back of your mind, you felt that you’d regret this in the morning.

However, a part of you—a part that resided in your chest—felt so relieved.

You pressed your face into JJ’s shoulder as he tried to quiet you, running his hands over your back. You could feel a headache coming on, probably from both the tears and the drinks, and the turn this night had taken only made you want to lie down. You didn’t even know how you were going to pull yourself together in time to go back home to Rafe.

You could feel JJ’s hand on the back of your neck, and when he turned his head—and turned yours—your lips met.

It took you by surprise, making your breath hitch, and if JJ minded the saltiness of the kiss, he didn’t speak on it. This kiss wasn’t like the first one, and even though you couldn’t tell how exactly, it just felt different. You could still hear Sarah and her friends talking and whatnot in the hot tub, none the wiser to what was taking place on the dark dock. JJ’s thumbs brushed your tears away as he moved his lips against yours, and you remembered that this was something you weren’t going to do again.

You tried to pull away, but JJ wouldn’t let you, humming into the kiss.

You didn’t want to stop, but you knew that you needed to. The night had not gone how you thought it would, and it was time to go home. Your mind was going a mile a minute with the knowledge that you’d told JJ the truth and the fact that he was kissing you again. The alcohol in your system had contributed to too many bad decisions tonight, and you literally feared what tomorrow would bring as you kept kissing JJ on the dock.

[autumnsvixen]

Damaged - part 1

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Azriel x f! reader

When the high lord sent Cassian to Ironcrest to recruit females to train, he was never expecting Cassian to bring something, or someone, back.

Word Count: 2093 Warnings: misogyny, violence, blood, use of knives, physical abuse, this is taking place in an Illyrian war camp so read with caution. I'm serious, it gets pretty dark and violent.

A/N: this is part one of a slow-burn Az fic I have in the works. I know you don’t see much of Az here, but I promise it is coming. And it will be well worth the angst wait.

masterlist || request guidelines

You stood by the training mat, eyes fixed as you were entranced by the male in the ring. His moves were graceful as he handled his sword with a precision you’d only seen in the birds that dive to the nearby lake as they hunt their aquatic prey. He swung towards invisible enemies, cutting them down with ease. As you watched him, you could only wish you could one day carry yourself with the same easy danger as he did. The males in the camp barely spared him a glance, and those who did had looks of disgust and anger on their faces.

Your trance was broken by the harsh sound of your brother’s voice, “Y/N, stop watching that bastard play pretend and get back inside. Shouldn’t you be washing my training leathers?”

Your shoulders stiffened as you moved your eyes from the training ring to the snow-covered ground below you. You mustered out a small, “apologies, I was meant to be fetching water for the wash. I just got distracted.”

He inched closer to you, the smell of sweat and grime pulling a gag from your throat that you swallowed down. His tone was quiet but harsh, “if I ever catch you looking at that brute again, I will show you what a real male can do with a sword.”

Your breath hitched, but you nodded obediently, running off to fetch water from the well on the outskirts of camp.

As you were pulling the bucket back up towards you, you were once again frightened by the sound of a male voice behind you, “I know you were watching me earlier.”

Your heart quickened as you turned, the bucket shaking in your hands, “I didn’t mean to offend you, sir, I apologize.”

The male with the long dark hair smiled softly at you, “no need to apologize. I was actually going to ask if you wanted to train with me tomorrow. You’re the only one here who seems like a worthy mentee.”

With wide eyes, you looked up at him fully, taking in the red glow of his siphons and the rich hazel of his eyes. “I would love that, but I am far too busy with my chores and my brother wouldn’t like it if I were to forego them to train with you.”

He stepped closer to you, a kind softness in his eyes, “If it’s your brother you are worried about, I can ensure you I will protect you from any backlash you might face.”

If only he knew what kind of backlash your brother had been known to give out. You shook your head, “I know that you and your high lord have imposed your laws about female training, but it is still strictly… discouraged in this camp.”

He looked angry at your words, an expression which faded into pity as he took in your trembling form. “If your brother has a problem with you training under his general, I will gladly speak with him. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

“All due respect, general, you won’t be the one facing the brunt of his anger.”

He rolled his shoulders back, “then let me teach you how to defend yourself against him. He won’t hurt you while I am here.”

You hesitate, knowing you truly wanted nothing more than to learn how to fight, how to protect yourself against the males who had threatened you throughout your existence. He sees this and continues, “if you decide you want to take me up on my offer, meet me in the training ring 2 hours before dawn. That way, your brother won’t even know you’re gone, and you will still be able to complete your chores.”

With a respectful dip of your head, you breeze past the war general with the bucket still in your hands.

You don’t meet him in the ring the next day, or the following day. Despite the longing you felt to train, you couldn’t overcome the fear of your brother’s anger. It was in the early morning of the third day, as you stood by the dish basin in your family home and watched the war general train through the window, that you decided you would join him. You had only meant to be distracted for a moment, allowing yourself a glimpse of his routine, but you had been entranced once again. Your brother had caught you staring, anger coating his eyes.

With a hot hand, he grabbed your arm and spun you around, the dish falling from your hand and into the tub. His other hand met your throat, squeezing tightly. “What did I say about watching him train, little sister?”

Your eyes were wide with fear as you struggled to breathe, body frozen in terror. Your brother brought the hand not on your throat to your hip, sliding under your shirt so you could feel the cold metal of a blade against your skin.

You tried to speak, to apologize, but the grasp on your neck was too tight to allow any noise to leave your mouth. The sharp sting on your hip brought tears to your eyes as he carved a long line across your stomach. It wasn’t deep enough to seriously wound you, but you knew there would most likely be a scar.

He smiled wickedly down at you, bringing the bloodied knife to your cheek. He swiped it across your skin before leaning close to your ear, hot disgusting breath hitting your skin. “Now be a good little sister and clean yourself up. Then get back to work.”

The grip on your neck disappeared and you gasped for breath, holding onto the edge of the basin behind you for stability. As you regained your composure enough to grab a nearby rag, you made your decision. No matter what, your villainous brother would find a way to hurt you. The only thing you could do for yourself was learn to fight back.

You had hoped that Cassian would be pleased to see you in the early hours of the morning the next day, but you were instead met with a look of concern.

“What happened to your face?”

You shrugged off his question, “you told me you could teach me how to defend myself, right?”

His mouth morphed into a grimace as he took in your week appearance, the inflamed pink mark across your cheek. After a few moments, he nodded, “I hope you’re ready to work.”

You found that, despite the bruises and soreness that had made their home on your body, you enjoyed Cassian’s training. He pushed you enough to help you grow, but not so far that you would regress into the fear that had consumed your entire body throughout your life. He respected your boundaries, and never asked you to explain when you would show up to train with new cuts along your face or arms.

But any fool could tell he was furious about them. You had made it clear you wouldn’t talk about them and that you didn’t want him interfering, and he was too scared that you would stop coming if he did. Out of anger, or because you would be left in a state so poor you’d be unable to train, you both weren’t sure.

One day, the two of you had gotten distracted, and training had lasted just a bit longer than it normally would. As you were heading off the training mat, you caught a glimpse of your brother’s watchful eyes through the window of your cabin. They held an icy fury, and you knew what was to come as soon as you got home. You thought to ask Cassian to accompany you, but knew that if you didn’t face your brother now, it would only be worse later.

To your surprise, your brother said nothing as you carefully entered the house. You watched him warily, as he didn’t even spare a glance in your direction. You quickly changed into your household clothes before starting quietly on your chores, jumping at the sound of the front door slamming shut as your brother left for the day.

The entire day, you were on edge. Chores had taken you less time than normal due to your anxiety quickening your hands. You were on your way to the market to trade the coins your brother earned as a blacksmith for meats and new gloves for him, as he had requested, when you were stopped by three looming figures.

You recognized them as your brothers friends, males who had come around to your home to get drunk with your brother and make gross, degrading comments towards you as you served them. Then, their eyes had been filled with lust and entitlement. Now, they were filled only with rage.

“Your brother said you’ve been training with that bastard general.” One of the males said.

Another spoke, “weak females like you don’t get to train.” He reached out to grab your shoulder, pushing you to the cold, hard ground.

“If you think you’re strong enough to fight like us males, why don’t we test out your skills?” The third one spoke as fear washed over your body. You pushed yourself up to your hands so you were sitting, looking up at them.

The second male’s foot made contact with your side as he kicked you harshly, sending you back to the ground. Though you had been training with Cassian, he had only been helping you build muscle and endurance, not to fight. Not yet.

Another of the males swung his legs on either side of your waist, pinning you underneath him. His hands wrapped around your throat, cutting your oxygen supply off. You struggled underneath him, trying to bring your knees up to harm him, but another of the males stomped on your ankle before you could.

A splintering pain traveled up your leg at the impact, bones cracking underneath his foot. You tried to cry out in pain, but no noise would come out.

The lack of oxygen was causing your vision to go blurry, hands scratching at the male’s to loosen the grip around your throat. He obliged, but you quickly realized it wasn’t from your pleading. His friend passed him a dagger, which he swiftly brought to your neck.

“C’mon little girl, didn’t your bastard teach you anything?” His voice was filled with disgust and anger, his breath reeking of ale. Your heartbeat was a swift and constant thud in your chest, echoing the fear you felt.

A scream left your lips as he plunged the dagger into your chest, just under your collarbone. You could nearly feel the blade scrape the bone as it entered you. You tried to push him off, but the other males placed their feet on your arms, keeping you locked into place. The male on top of you took his free hand to cover your mouth. “Hush, good girls don’t scream.”

Tears poured from your eyes as he removed the bloodied dagger from your chest before swiftly bringing it back down again, this time into your side. You screamed against his hand, the pain overwhelming you.

He continued his ministrations, plunging the blade into your middle, avoiding your heart and lungs narrowly, but not caring about anything else. You lost track of the pain, mind and body going numb as you let the frozen fear take over you.

At some point, it stopped. You would later vaguely recall a flash of red and the sound of men in pain, but in the moment you could barely remember your own name.

A male kneeled over you, concern in his hazel eyes and long hair brushing against your face. You groaned out of instinct, not pain, when he picked you up, your head lolling to rest on his shoulder as he took off.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me,” he said harshly to you over the roaring of the wind in your ears. You vaguely recognized that you were flying, a feeling so instinctual yet so unfamiliar to you, despite the large wings on your back.

The next things you remember happened in flashes. A dark male with bright, violet eyes taking hold of your hand, a castle surrounded by balconies and arches, a soft bed and warm hands spreading magic throughout your body, your bones clicking back into place, and a dark figure who seemed to be more shadow than fae.

It was him you thought of as the same darkness that surrounded him filled your vision and you were overtaken by a dreamless sleep.

[randomness-is-my-order]

since i’m on my third mdzs brainrot of the year, let me just say: it’s enlightening how this story, spread over multiple volumes, goes over the simple but undeniably true reality that even while doing almost everything “right” you can still be horribly “wrong” in the eyes of society. how wei wuxian would bend over backwards to follow his morals (which have been narratively shown to be somewhat the standard) but still be condemned at large because he didn’t go about it the way that was perfectly compliant with what his social superiors and other authority figures expected of him. how “good” deeds in the mdzs world (and ours) will only be accepted and praised, coming from someone of lower social standing, if they are packaged in an unobstrusive manner–and sometimes, not even then. and it’s funny how some people miss that, how they wonder what would have happened if wei wuxian had been just a bit more tempered, a bit more subservient, a bit more polite. how the expectation of delivering his kindnesses in the most unhindering manner possible is somehow an acceptable train of thought–how the burden to do better is not unequivocally placed on people like JGS, Jiang Cheng, Nie Mingjue, the Lans, etc.

some people think that wei wuxian using demonic cultivation in the eyes of the cultivation world is his downfall. nevermind the fact that he literally isn’t practicing mo dao–this whole issue is NOT about what he’s doing, but about who he is. mxtx has made that clear at multiple points in the novels but the most glaring example is, ofcourse, how the nie sect is allowed to mess with resentful energy all they like and since they are a powerful enough sect, they face no social or political backlash for it–not in the way that wei wuxian does. even then, during the war, those people had no qualms against weaponising wei wuxian’s powers for their benefit. if it truly was about the dubious morality of using mo dao for them then wei wuxian should have been condemned from the get-go. but it’s not. it’s about the son of a servant wielding enough power to change the tides of a war and then surviving to tell the tale and continue to live with the kind of power that shouldn’t be held by someone of his station. it’s about people quaking in their boots because wei wuxian has shown himself as someone who won’t conform, who won’t become a dancing monkey for their tunes.

yes, wei wuxian is not some perfect angel saint but then, why the fuck should he be??? this expectation from some readers and the members of his world alike, that wei wuxian should have been the one to give it his all and more to avoid conflict is blasphemous. in the end, wei wuxian chose his path, stuck to his ideals, and went down throwing a big fuck you at the larger cultivation world’s back, while the rest failed to break the cycle of power abuse. the fact that it took them more than a year to see him to death is just a testament to how well wei wuxian handled things than some grace given by the cultivation world. the whole “wei wuxian’s first death was inevitable” is, for me, not about wei wuxian slowly spiralling and things getting out of hand. his death was inevitable because corrupt people with power will always choose to exploit and silence, will always choose to exert their will, will always choose to hurt those lower in the chain. and that is exactly what happened with the ambush and everything that led upto it.

[its-avalon-08]

Hi, I’m writing to ask if you could write a Daniel Ricciardo x reader story. (I know very well that this isn’t the right time since we’re all devastated because of his departure), but I’ve had this story in my mind for a long time. It’s a pretty serious subject, but I’d like to know how Daniel and the other drivers would react when they discover that a team principal (I have no idea who) is accused of sexual harassment, etc. And how he would react to finding out that his girlfriend, the reader, is one of the complainants and that she hid it from him.

thanks love

as the world crumbles (dr3)

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, sexual harassment

The atmosphere in the paddock was tense, much tenser than usual. News traveled fast, but this—this was different. Rumors had been swirling for hours, but when the official statement came out, the paddock fell into a stunned silence.

Mattias Verner, the team principal of a mid-field F1 team, had been accused of sexual harassment by multiple women on his team. It was the kind of scandal that shook the sport to its core. No one had seen it coming.

Lando Norris was the first to speak up, leaning against the side of the McLaren garage, his expression one of disbelief. “Is this for real?” He looked around at the other drivers who had gathered, his eyes wide with shock. “I mean… Verner?”

George Russell shook his head, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his usually calm demeanor replaced with a mixture of anger and discomfort. “I’ve heard things before, you know. Like whispers. But I didn’t think…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"Yeah, but whispers don’t always mean something, mate." Alex Albon frowned, his face pale. "But this? It’s in the statement. There are names. Women from the team."

Max was silent, his face set in a deep frown as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Bastard deserves whatever’s coming to him,” he muttered under his breath, jaw clenched. The usual cold determination in his eyes was now replaced with something darker. “People like him shouldn’t be anywhere near the sport.”

Carlos shook his head, running a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face. "I don’t get how no one knew. How did this stay hidden for so long?" He glanced around at the other drivers, as if hoping someone had an answer.

Pierre , sitting on a crate, tapped his foot anxiously. “People like that… they’re always careful. They make sure no one notices until it’s too late.”

Lewis , who had just arrived, listened quietly before finally speaking. "It’s disgusting. He abused his power. Makes me sick." His voice was low, simmering with barely contained anger. "We need to do better. As a sport, as a community. These women—" He paused, shaking his head. "They trusted him, and he betrayed them."

The drivers all nodded in agreement, but there was a deep discomfort in the air. They were used to competing against each other, fighting for the championship, pushing themselves and their cars to the limit. But this—this wasn’t about racing. This was about something far more personal, something far more sinister.

Charles Leclerc looked around, his brow furrowed. “Do we know who the women are? I mean, do they want us to support them publicly or keep quiet until the investigation finishes?”

Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “From what I’ve heard, some of the names are out there. But I don’t know all of them. It’s… sensitive.”

Daniel Ricciardo, who had been standing off to the side, unusually quiet, felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The whole situation disgusted him. The idea that someone so high up in the sport could abuse their position like that made his blood boil. "Whoever they are," he said, his voice low, "we have to have their backs. They’re part of this paddock, just like us."

The others nodded in agreement, but a heavy silence fell over the group again. They were all thinking the same thing—Who was involved? Who had been hurt? And why hadn’t they noticed anything sooner?

Lance Stroll spoke up hesitantly. “I can’t believe it’s taken this long for something to come out. I mean… if it’s true—”

“If?” Max interrupted sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. “You don’t think this many women are lying, do you?”

Lance held up his hands defensively. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… it’s hard to wrap your head around. That someone we’ve seen for years could be—” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Esteban Ocon, who had been mostly quiet, finally said, “It’s hard to accept, but we have to. These women deserve to be believed. And Verner… if it’s true, he’s finished. No way back from this.”

The drivers exchanged looks, all of them sharing a silent understanding. This wasn’t just another scandal that would be brushed under the rug. This was something that would change the sport forever.

Daniel stayed quiet for a moment longer, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. But there was something gnawing at him, something he couldn’t quite shake. The whole situation felt too close, too personal. And then, almost as if the thought had struck him like a punch to the gut, his eyes widened slightly.

He looked over at Lando, who was still talking with George, his words fading into the background. But Daniel’s focus had shifted entirely.

"Y/N," he muttered under his breath, his heart suddenly racing. She worked in the paddock. She knew people. She was in those circles, always professional, always around the team principals and engineers.

His stomach twisted into knots.

Without another word, Daniel turned on his heel and started walking briskly toward the McLaren garage. He had to find her. He had to know if she was okay. And more importantly—he had to make sure she hadn’t been hurt.

Because if she had… if that bastard had hurt her in any way—

Daniel’s hands clenched into fists as he marched through the paddock, his mind spinning with fear and fury.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from the murmurs of his fellow drivers. It was a message from Y/N:

"We need to talk. Now."

He stared at the message for a moment, a strange heaviness settling over him. He stood up abruptly, not bothering to excuse himself as he walked out of the room. He found Y/N waiting for him near the motorhome, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly as she clenched them together.

"Dan," she began softly, her voice shaky. "I… I need to tell you something."

His chest tightened as he saw the fear in her eyes. "Y/N, what’s going on?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

She bit her lip, glancing around before gesturing for them to go somewhere more private. Once they were alone, she took a deep breath. "It’s about the accusations… against the team principal. I—" She stopped, her voice faltering.

Daniel’s heart started to pound. He could feel the gravity of what she was about to say but wasn’t ready to hear it. "Y/N, please. Just tell me."

The noise of the paddock was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the roaring in Daniel’s ears as Y/N’s words sank in.

"I’m one of the complainants."

He blinked, frozen in place. For a moment, it felt like the world stopped spinning. His girlfriend. Y/N. She was part of the accusations against Mattias Verner. His throat tightened, his mind racing, but all he could feel was rage building deep in his chest, the kind that twisted his stomach and made his hands curl into fists.

For a moment, everything froze. Daniel blinked, his body stiffening. "You?" His voice cracked, his heart dropping like a stone. "He—he hurt you?"

Y/N’s eyes were brimming with tears, and she nodded, looking away. "I didn’t want to tell you. I was scared of what you’d do… how you’d react."

Daniel’s breath caught, a wave of anger, hurt, and confusion crashing over him all at once. His jaw clenched tightly as rage filled his chest, every muscle in his body tensing. "Scared of what I’d do? Of what I’d do?" His voice was low, trembling with barely contained fury. "You think I wouldn’t want to know? That I wouldn’t need to know that some piece of shit was hurting you?"

Y/N flinched at the venom in his voice, but he couldn’t stop. His anger wasn’t at her—it was at Verner, at the fact that someone had the audacity to hurt her. The fact that she’d been going through this alone, that she hadn’t felt safe enough to tell him… it broke something inside him.

"That bastard," Daniel spat, pacing in front of her now, his fists clenched. "That disgusting bastard." His voice shook with anger, his heart thundering in his chest. "I swear to God, Y/N, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to make sure he never walks into a paddock again, that he never touches another woman again." He stopped, turning back to her, his eyes blazing with fury. "No one—no one—hurts you and gets away with it."

Y/N’s voice cracked, tears spilling over as she reached for him. "Daniel, please…"

But he cut her off, his voice breaking. "How long have you been dealing with this? How long have you been keeping this from me?"

Her sobs came harder now, her body trembling as she spoke through her tears. "I didn’t want to burden you. I didn’t want you to see me differently. I was trying to be strong—"

"Burden me?" Daniel’s voice softened, the anger still there but mixed with heartbreak. "Y/N, you’re my whole world. How could you ever think I wouldn’t want to be there for you? That I wouldn’t stand by your side through this?"

She let out a choked sob, her knees giving way as she collapsed into herself, and in that instant, Daniel’s anger shifted. Seeing her like that—so broken, so vulnerable—ripped him apart. Without hesitation, he dropped down beside her, pulling her into his arms. She clung to him, crying into his chest as he held her tightly, pressing his lips against her hair.

"I’m so sorry," she whispered between sobs. "I didn’t want to hurt you."

Daniel’s heart shattered at the sound of her voice, guilt flooding him. He gently rocked her, his anger at Verner still burning hot, but all he could think about now was comforting her. "Shh," he murmured softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It’s okay, love. It’s okay. I’m here now. I’ve got you."

She cried harder, her sobs wracking her body as Daniel held her tighter, his own throat tightening with emotion. "I should’ve been there for you," he whispered, his voice raw with pain. "I should’ve known."

Y/N shook her head, burying her face in his chest. "I didn’t want to drag you into this mess."

"You’re not dragging me into anything," Daniel said, his voice fierce but tender. "This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. That bastard—" His voice broke again, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. "He’s going to pay for what he did. I promise you that."

She trembled in his arms, and Daniel’s heart broke a little more with every sob. He kissed the top of her head, his hand stroking her hair as he whispered, "You should’ve told me, Y/N. You should’ve let me help you through this."

"I was scared," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I didn’t want you to be angry. I didn’t want you to hate me—"

"Hate you?" Daniel pulled back just enough to cup her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I could never hate you, Y/N. Never." His voice was thick with emotion, his thumb gently wiping away her tears. "I’m angry, yeah. But not at you. I’m angry at him, at the fact that you had to go through this alone."

Her lip trembled as she whispered, "I didn’t want to be weak."

"You’re not weak," Daniel said firmly, his voice full of conviction. "You’re the strongest person I know. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me."

She sobbed again, leaning into his touch as he held her face in his hands. "I love you," she whispered, her voice broken.

"I love you too," Daniel whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "And I’m going to be here for you, no matter what. We’re going to get through this. Together."

Y/N’s sobs began to quiet as she clung to him, and Daniel held her tightly, his heart aching for her. The anger still simmered beneath the surface, a fire he knew wouldn’t go out until Verner was held accountable, but for now, all that mattered was Y/N. She was safe in his arms, and he wasn’t going to let go.

[bachiras-toaster]

dating the blue lock boys as student council members : ̗̀➛

BLUE LOCK MEN x gn!reader

content. explicit, making out, bachira having a getting-caught kink, bottom!nagi hinted, blowjobs

ft. bachira, nagi, reo, isagi, rin

MEGURU BACHIRA

A person who’s face belies their hidden nature. He’s certainly the type of person to shamelessly abuse his power; he knows that no matter what he does, he’s talented enough for his position not to be shaken within the Student Council. Despite his childish and chatty personality, Bachira is arguably one of the scariest members— As stated by Isagi, because the whole ‘innocent’ bit is just as facade, and he can tear into the heart of any student and cause them to break. To any outsider, he’s the kindest ray of sunshine; to the rest of the Student Council members, he’s the hidden wild card of the group.

And when it comes to you, Bachira loves to fool around with you a lot, it’s a wonder how he’s never been caught up to this point. He’s obsessed with the idea of luring you into the Student Council meeting room and hanging out there when it’s empty, closing out the room to any people who could potentially be passing by, and kissing you in seats the two of you should not be sat in. Sometimes he’ll even kick other students out of free classrooms for ‘serious Student Council business’ just to make out with you against one of the desks. You tell him repeatedly that you shouldn’t fool around in school, but it’s like the thrill of getting caught makes it all the more enticing for him— Especially with his status.

NAGI SEISHIRO

Honestly, he doesn’t even particularly want to be a part of the Student Council. Nagi just happens to be exceptionally great, despite not even trying. Because of that, he was offered a position as a member. He only heard the benefits of potentially skipping classes, so he was eager to join, but he supposed he had forgotten that he would actually need to pay attention in the meetings that he attends…

He would much rather spend time with you than attend any of the meetings. You’d sometimes need to convince him to stop spending time with you and focus on his Student Council duties instead. You need to make promises to him that if he attends his next meeting, you’ll be sure to reward him with a session of him laying back while you do all the work as soon as the two of you got home— Which he supposed is enough to get him through an hour of talking from the Student Council President.

REO MIKAGE

Admittedly, he only joined the Student Council initially for the boost in reputation and because of pressure from his parents. But now that he’s there, he feels like he really can’t be bothered carrying out any of the duties he’s supposed to. The only thing he finds fun about being a part of the Student Council now is getting to brag to you about what kind of power he has in that position and how he can practically force the school to respect you.

Unfortunately, being the simp that he is, he can’t help but unintentionally abuse his power in order to appease you— Unlike Bachira, who will purposefully abuse his power. Reo would be more than happy to punish students who have wronged you, or manipulate certain events just so you can get the role that you wished. I mean, how could he refuse? After you give him everything he dreamed for and more in the privacy of your own lives?

YOICHI ISAGI

The entire school wonders how someone like Isagi ended up in the Student Council, especially since he didn’t exactly size up to any of the other members. On multiple occasions, he was mistaken for a secretary, or a coffee-boy— Anything but an actual, contributing member of the group. Despite this, he tries his hardest to prove himself to the rest of the members and the rest of the school that he’s worth standing amongst the academy’s finest, and he uses his power and status for the bettering of the institution. He’s fair and just, never once even standing on the path to becoming corrupt, and it’s all to ensure his own popularity and role.

Which is particularly the reason why he can get so nervous whenever you insist on doing it in the meeting room. He can feel beads of sweat tracing down the sides of his face as you unbuckle his pants, sinking down to your knees in front of him while you ensured him that it was okay. He would constantly look between the top of your head and the entrance of the room, feeling a hard-to-swallow lump in his throat as the possibilities of getting caught raced through his mind— It was one of his greatest fears. But it never stopped the two of you from repeating this action over and over again every time a meeting ended and you snuck in.

RIN ITOSHI

The Student Council President. Although it’s no surprise that he secured that spot, there’s a lot of speculation about whether his position was the result of nepotism since his older brother had been the previous President and his parents made up a large portion of the Academy’s donations. He finds that being called a ‘nepo baby’ is one of the greatest insult to him, and won’t be hesitant to shut anyone he even alludes to such a possibility. He works tirelessly to maintain the school’s image, and keeps up an almost pristine reputation for himself. He’s counted on as one of the most intelligent of all of the members, and can find himself getting frequently annoyed at the laziness, incompetency, and sometimes downright stupidity of his team. But they’re a group of people only he can insult; if anyone else tried it, they’d be dead.

Being the President of such a difficult to maintain group, he constantly finds that he needs to let off steam. If he ever decided to do it with you inside the school, he’d never do it while there would be other students possibly roaming around. He’d always wait for after-school, or even before classes begin in the morning, to have his way with you. What the two of you get up to depends on how he feels. If he just needs a wake up before lessons, it can lead to the two of you making out in his chair. However, on the days where he finds himself a little more pissed-off than usual after an after-school meeting, he’d pin you down against the desk and practically force those moans out of you. You’re a real stress reliever for him. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you.

[aurorawritestoescape]

DESTINIES INTERTWINED

General Marcus Acacius x f!reader x Lucilla

Summary: you spend a passionate night with your lovers.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, mff, unspecified age gap, soft!Marcus, soft!Lucilla, polyamorous relationship, praise, f!oral, unprotected piv, creampie, breeding, mention of lactation, power imbalance. Sorry for any inaccuracies about Ancient Rome. Pics are only for the mood, reader has hair, but no other physical description.

Word count: 3k

A/n: should I even explain myself? A horny goblin inside me wrote it. Hope you will like it! Love you all!💖

Soft Marcus kiss to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

MASTERLIST

You hear him before you see him. His heavy steps echo through the vast halls of the palace and reach your ears even through the soft music that the servants are playing. Then the bedroom doors loudly open and he enters the room— a warrior, a leader, a conqueror, ready to discard the worries of his day, to offer rest to his mind and soul.

Lucilla and you lying on the bed, leaning on the pillows and holding each other close. You two have been kissing and talking quietly from time to time but the atmosphere, a perfect image of leisure and softness mere moments ago, gets electrified, charged with masculine energy. The servants leave immediately, knowing well that General Marcus Acacius does not allow anyone to see what he does to his women.

You can never believe how generously the gods blessed you. After a life of slavery and abuse you are now cherished as if you’re of noble descent. Even better, you feel loved.

Marcus freed you from the brutal hands of your owner and though you still are enslaved to an outside eye, you have never felt more free.

The General made you his servant first and you welcomed his order with gratitude. You were happy to serve such an honorable man. He and his wife were kind masters and they did not see an object when they looked at you. They saw a person. Not much time passed before you found yourself in bed with both Marcus and Lucilla. You three quickly became one, regularly drowning each other in pleasure and adoration. So you were not surprised when Mercus suggested intertwining your destinies forever.

You shouldn’t be nervous, having had plenty of time to get used to the General’s overwhelming presence. But his power, his strength, his intelligence and beauty struck you every single time like the first. Your heart is fluttering and you squirm against Lucilla’s shoulder, and always attentive to your mood, the woman envelops you in her arms tighter, sharing more of her warmth with you, while nothing but thin nightgowns separate your bodies.

“Soften your expression, my love. You’re scaring our little rose.”

Marcus pauses discarding his gear and turns to you, eyes piercing and dark reading your features.

“Is it the truth, my beautiful girl? Am I still a scare for you?” he asks, walking up slowly to the bed. His voice is gruff, molded by countless battles, but for the two of you it’s silky and soft.

“No, General.. Marcus,” you reply in a soft voice, big eyes looking up at the man with adoration and piety. The sound of his name on your lips and your devoted gaze do the trick— his face softens and he gives you a warm smile. You smile back shyly and Lucilla pecks your temple, laughing,

“Our General can be quite intimidating. Yet you and I know that he is as gentle as a warm summer breeze. For us.”

Marcus smirks and continues taking off his gear and undergarments and soon he’s standing naked next to the bed— a broad torso, strong, defined muscles glistening softly in the dim candle light, his big heavy cock swaying with every move. The sight of him takes your breath away.

He leans down and kisses his wife first as his chest hovers over you and the scent of rose oils caresses your senses.

Then it is your turn and he watches your face for a few seconds before he greets the beginning of a passionate night with you, planting a gentle kiss on your lips.

“How are my loves?” He asks, sitting down on the bed, facing you two, as you lick your lips, savoring his taste.

“She’s ready. Bona Dea favors us— the time is perfect,” Lucilla hurries to inform him, excitement painting her every word, “I played with her during the washing. She must come as much as possible for the seed to stick.”

Your cheeks start burning and your chest is heaving as you avert your gaze from the man in front of you but Marcus pinches your chin and gently lifts your face to his, searching for your eyes.

“Nothing to be shy about, my heart. You will give me.. give us a son, my heir and our destinies, mine, yours and Lucilla’s will be intertwined forever.”

His lips curve in a warm smile and you relax, taking a big calming breath. A whimper escapes your lips when his hand slides from your face to your chest and then belly. He puts his palm over it, rubbing it with his thick thumb and the heat of his touch, warming your skin through the sheer fabric, ignites your core and paints your face with need and desire.

“Yes, Marcus. I wish for nothing more.”

“Sweet little rose,” he coos at you and hunches down so he could press his face to your covered mound. The General takes a deep breath and you open your legs wider so he could revel in the scent of your arousal.

“Our beautiful rose,” his wife echoes, “Give her one more before we start, my love. I shall assist you.”

You turn your head to look at Lucilla’s gorgeous face, your eyes full of lust and gratitude and you reach for her to kiss you. She smiles and soon her soft lips are caressing yours, her tongue is licking into your whimpering mouth and you gasp against her lips when her husband latches onto your bare cunt.

Bunching up your nightgown over your waist Marcus is feasting on your sweet nectar, flowing generously from your clenching hole. Lucilla drew an orgasm from you mere minutes before and he’s reaping the fruit of her labor.

When he starts sucking on your puffy clit, you part from the woman’s lips and direct your gaze at the General eating you out, his lips and tongue celebrating your pussy, methodically bringing you to your high.

Overwhelmed by the sight of this man, strong and powerful, sliding his warm tongue through your glistening folds, you softly moan. Soon your whimpers fill the room as you're writhing in bed, running your fingers through his silky curls.

"She's close, my love, do not stop," Lucilla tells her husband and her hand slithers to your chest and pulls down the neckline of your nightgown.

She gently cups your breast and her fingers twitch your pebbled nipple. You moan as her touch sends a new surge of wetness to your entrance for her husband to lap up.

Marcus’s obsidian eyes flick up to the sight of his wife playing with your tits and he parts from your cunt to ask,

“Will you give me an honor to taste your milk when it’s time, my little rose? I would love your sweet breasts to nourish me, just like your little cunt is nourishing me right now.”

You moan at his words and eagerly nod, biting your lower lip, and Marcus’s slick-coated mouth curves into a content smile.

Lucilla whispers, “We love you,” against your temple and they continue pleasuring you, her hands kneading your breasts, his mouth on your soft pussy and soon you’re coming, shaking against Lucilla’s body, as she’s praising you throughout, while Marcus is quenching his thirst with your plentiful juices.

When he lifts his head his bearded chin and mustache are shining with the evidence of your ecstasy and you reach your arms towards him to pull him close and lick it off his face. Lucilla rushes to help you and soon the three of you are kissing, tongues and lips moving passionately in this lustful dance of three. You’re comforted by their bodies, caging you against each other, and you wish for this moment to last forever.

They give you only a moment of respite before Marcus takes your nightgown off and wraps his throbbing cock in his big veiny hand. He pumps it with a few languid strokes and you swallow loudly, watching his huge manhood grow even bigger. Marcus cups your cheek with a free hand and coos,

“Don't fret, little rose. You’ve taken me before. I promise to be slow and gentle.”

“Lie down between my legs, my love, so I could feel every thrust Marcus gives you,” Lucilla purrs, helping you to shift and you happily lean your back on her chest as she wraps her arms around you.

“This time it will take, I know it,” Lucilla continues, as her palms are gliding over your shoulders, breasts and belly in a calming gesture but your cunt tingles again at her soft touch.

Marcus lies between your spread thighs, his hard cock pressed to your mound, and gifts you another heady kiss, reminding you of his love and care.

“You’re strong, my love. You shall receive my seed and grow a new life for us three. You shall be mine forever.”

You breathe out a quiet ‘yes’ and he brushes your cheek with his lips at the same time pushing the tip of his cock into your soaked hole. You already feel the dull stretch and grasp Lucilla’s arms enveloping you and she whispers,

“I shall help you, little rose.”

Her hand slithers between Marcus’s and your bodies and she finds your throbbing clit, soaked with your cum and her husband’s saliva. She begins rubbing it in tight circles, murmuring in your ear,

“Relax, my precious, open up for him. Let Marcus fill you up with his seed. Sometimes I wish I had a cock too so we both could make you full with cum.”

You mewl, hearing her words, while the General thrusts in, close to bottoming out, and the fullness, the stretch that he bestows on you, quickly overwhelms you and your head whips to the side as your needy eyes search for your female lover.

“I need you,” you admit with a weak voice and she smiles down at you and moves your torso slightly to the side, freeing her chest.

She takes her breast out of her sheer nightgown and brings your face closer. You take a sharp breath at the sight of her beautiful tit and latch onto her puffy nipple. You flutter your eyes shut with pleasure, enjoying the sweetness of her skin, as she’s holding you close to feed you her breast better, while her husband’s cock prods deeper and deeper inside your wet hot cunt.

Her bud hardens in your mouth and she starts moaning while you’re licking it, swirling your tongue around and then suckling on the nipple. She knows how much you love it, the feeling so comforting and ecstatic, you whimper as your pussy gushes around Marcus’s cock.

The man grunts and growls, thrusting his fat stiffness little by little inside you,

“Oh gods, you are just as tight as our first night together. Remember, little rose, how long it took me to fully sheath my cock into your sweet cunt?” You move just your eyes to glance at him, not parting from his wife’s tit, and hum in agreement.

“I shall be slow now as well.” His voice is strained and he grinds his teeth, trying not to pierce you with his girthy length in one go, desperately wishing to bottom out but holding up for the sake of your comfort.

Finally his heavy balls slap your ass and you both moan loudly as his tip gives a kiss to your cervix. You feel so full and happy, your lips leave Lucilla’s breast and you take Marcus’s face in your hands to kiss him. The giant man moans as your soft mouth thanks him for the gift of his cock and you can’t make yourselves part from one another, reveling in the taste of your love and desire. He twitches deep inside you and not tearing his lips from yours he begins rolling his hips, fucking you slowly and gently, massaging his length with your snug walls and it feels like he fucks into your belly, into your soul and heart, so deep that you hold your breath, afraid to move, scared he will split you in two with the might of his manhood.

Judging by her soft moans, Lucilla senses his thrusts, as if he’s fucking both of you, and soon she starts grinding her pussy against your ass and you feel her wetness smeared on your skin.

Marcus’s heavy cock drugs in and out of your hole, caressing your core and pushing on the pleasure spot inside you. But you can not be that selfish as to enjoy this beautiful and hopefully fruitful night without your other lover so you part from the General’s mouth to murmur,

“Lucilla, I want—.”

“What is it, my love?” the woman behind you asks and Marcus pauses his movements to let you speak.

“I wish— wish to feel you on my tongue.”

Your voice is barely audible as shyness overtakes you but it’s loud enough for your lovers to hear.

“You wish to…,” Lucilla starts but you interrupt her. “Yes, sit on my face. Please,” you plea as you turn your head to look at her.

They’re quick to fulfill your wish and soon Lucilla gets from under you and plants her knees on the sides of your face. Her cunt is hovering over your mouth, as she’s facing her husband, who’s still buried deep in your heat. She discards her sheer nightgown and you take a sharp breath, as her gorgeous naked body blesses your vision. Her glistening folds are calling for you to taste them. So you pull her down with your hands on her thighs and, after opening up as wide as possible, you cover her cunt with the warmth of your mouth. You hungrily lick a path from her clit to her hole and gather all the wetness off her hot skin. She doesn’t let you wait long and soon she’s gushing more onto your waiting tongue.

“My little rose!” She gasps, surprised by your eagerness and lust, “So good to us,” she coos at you while her fingers are running through your hair. The woman moans when your tongue prods her hole and you slide it deeper while your hands knead her asscheeks and thighs.

“Is it nice, my love? Is our little rose making you happy?” Marcus asks his wife, who’s moving her body up and down now, fucking herself on your tongue.

“Oh, yes,” she breathes out and throws her head back in ecstasy.

You don’t see Marcus but you feel him, so much of him as he’s thrusting his cock into you with steady and deep strokes.

“You two are perfect and you’re mine,” he growls, “I am thankful to the gods for giving me both of you.”

Then you feel his big hands on your breasts and he begins caressing your nipples with his calloused fingers, making you whimper against his wife’s cunt.

“Wish your tits were full of milk already. The warm nectar would trickle down my hands right now,” he accentuates his words, kneading your breasts, “When you bare my child I shall make sure to have you on my cock and in my mouth every day, to devour your sweet cunt whenever you wish.”

His words make your heart and pussy flatter and he grunts, as his cock twitches deep in your core. Marcus increases the pace at which his stiffness is spearing you again and again and you grab Lucilla’s thighs to keep yourself from sliding up the bed.

“My love, her mouth is heaven,” the woman moans, addressing her husband and the next moment you hear their lips moving against each other. His cock, stuffing your soaked cunt, your tongue in her wet hole, the sensations pull you to the heights of pleasure and, overwhelmed with ove and lust, you come, moaning loudly, your sweet noises muffled by Lucilla’s cunt.

It sets a chain reaction and your walls, clamping around Marcus’s cock, make him explode and he begins shooting his hot load deep into your contracting core. He quickly fills you up and soon you hear the lewd noises of your cunt, squelching with his every thrust.

You desperately wish for Lucilla to come with you too and, still trembling with ecstasy under their naked bodies, you wrap your lips around her clit and suck, lick, flick it with the tip of your tongue bringing her higher to meet Marcus and you there. Soon you’re successful and she cries out your name until Marcus kisses her and drinks her moans.

When she stills, her cunt leaves your mouth and she lies down on the bed next to you.

You finally set your eyes on the General and marvel at his beauty — his strong muscles are bulging, the skin, dewy with sweat, is almost glowing in the warm candle light, his curls are tousled and some have fallen on his forehead. Your lover is panting heavily, descending from his hard climax. He gives you a warm smile as he coos,

“Look at you, my beautiful rose, your lips are coated with the evidence of Lucilla’s love for you. Let me…”

With that he leans down not pulling out and kisses you, licking the slick of your lips and chin.

“Do not spill the seed, my love,” Lucilla warns him and he hums against your mouth.

“Never, not a drop shall fall,” he mumbles, as his lips part from yours, “Your full cunt shall be plugged by my cock all night, little rose.”

You nod, barely having any strength to do so, and he carefully lies down next to you, gently turning your body on your side and you feel Lucilla’s arms embrace you from behind. Marcus’s manhood is still in your stretched hole and he puts your leg over thigh and bucks his hips to plug you better.

You revel in their warmth, adoration and love, resting between your lovers. They start talking about your future together, your baby and how they are going to take care of you two and you drift off with a happy and hopeful smile on your face.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback motivates me so much!❤️

Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

Tagging some lovelies who commented on the Wip post @ozarkthedog @fruityreads @604to647 @corazondebeskar-reads

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

[minswriting]

Our Little Secret - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

About: You had always been attracted to your new step father since the day your mom brought him home. He was an attractive older man. He treated your mother well, despite not being home enough. But that didn’t matter too much since your mother was rarely home either. You knew that you shouldn’t feel some sort of way about your step-father. But what happens when he comes home from a rough case and seems to want you too?

Warnings: Step-daughter/step-father dynamic, NSFW, MDNI, 18+ content, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, hair pulling, etc.

Word Count: 3200

Note: This may suck a bit but i hope you all enjoy!

Your relationship with your mother wasn’t the greatest, truthfully. Your mother left your father when you were ten years old, leaving him alone to work full time and take care of his daughter. But when he passed away when you were fifteen, about eight years ago, due to cancer, your mother had taken you in because you had nowhere else to go. While she wasn’t abusive, the two of you fought quite often as you held a lot of resentment against her for leaving you and your father. And now, you were twenty-three, still living with your mother as you went through college because it was the easiest thing to do.

When you first laid eyes on Aaron Hotchner, it was a year after his wife had passed away. He had met your mother and the two had gotten engaged rather quickly, exclaiming that the two of them didn’t want to wait when they didn’t have to. They were both adults interested in one another. And Aaron was just glad that Jack had taken a liking to you almost immediately.

You had always been attracted to Aaron. He was an attractive man. He was a great father to Jack, looked amazing in a suit, he was kind and respectful. Not to mention the authoritative voice he took when he answered his work calls never failed to cause you to clench your thighs. It’s wrong of you to be attracted to your step-father. It’s taboo. And yet you couldn’t help it. You had spent many nights fingering yourself to the thought of your step-father fucking you so ridiculously good.

It was a Friday night. Jack was at a sleepover with one of his friends, your mom was on a work trip as she works as a traveling sales representative, and Aaron was on a case in New York, leaving you home alone for the night. You had just gotten out of the shower, dressed in a pair of shorts and t-shirt and went downstairs to do your college coursework on your laptop.

As you worked on an essay for your psychology class, you heard keys turning in the front door, signaling that someone was home. You looked up from your computer as you were sitting on the couch to see Aaron walking in looking exhausted and stressed. “Hey,” you greeted softly.

Aaron looked over at the couch, giving you a small smile. “Hey,” he greeted back, placing his bag down before walking over to the couch and sitting down next to you. “How’s everything going?” he asked, getting himself comfortable. His legs were spread, his knee touching yours unintentionally. But you made no effort to move away.

“Everything is good,” You replied, closing your laptop and placing it onto the coffee table. “Jack is at Pete’s house for the night. His mom will be taking him home in the morning. Mom’s still on her work trip for another week. And I was just working on an essay.” You took a deep breath, looking at Aaron. “How was the case?”

Aaron sighed, running a hand over his face. “It was certainly…something,” he said exhaustedly. “It was truthfully a rough one. It involves kids and those are always so hard.” You nodded in understanding, not really sure of what else to say. “How come you’re not out on a Friday night?” Aaron asked, looking at you with a curious look.

“Didn’t really feel like it,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. “My boyfriend asked me to go out but…I just didn’t feel like seeing him tonight.”

“Did something happen?” Aaron asked.

“Just a dumb argument a few days ago,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Nothing important.”

Aaron hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you even love him?” he asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion about the question. “What?” you asked, looking at your step father.

Aaron looked at you expectedly. “Do you even love him?” he asked again. “You are in this relationship and yet your body language shows that you’re not that interested in him.”

“Is that really any of your business?” you asked defensively.

“It is when your attention seems to be on me,” Aaron replied smoothly. He adjusted himself so that he was closer to you ever so slightly. His arm was draped on the top of the couch.

Your cheeks became hot as you looked at your step-father, unsure of what to say or what to do. “I-I have no idea what you mean,” you exclaimed, very clearly a lie though you didn’t want to admit that.

“Oh but I think I do,” Aaron said, quirking his lip. “I see the way you look at me, y/n. With those beautiful eyes, you look at me with longing, desire, and admiration. As though I am the thing you need and want most.” Aaron’s tone was soft but knowing. He was a profiler. He could likely tell you things about yourself that even you didn’t know.

“What about it?” You whispered, your attention focused on him completely. Your heart raced with anxiety. You weren’t quite sure what to do. Aaron’s words were true. You had desired him since the day you laid eyes on him. But it wasn’t right. It was taboo. Which is why you never thought that Aaron would ever feel the same or even acknowledge your thoughts.

Aaron’s arm moved to your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. His other hand went to your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “I look at you the same way,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning your cheek.

Hearing these words made your heart flutter and heat pool near your thighs. Your mother and step-fathers relationship had been a bit strained from the beginning. They sort of rushed into it, only caring about the fact that they didn’t need to worry about one another too much since neither one of them were home that much. The rare times they were both home, they acted like a perfect couple for a few days until reality settles in and they’re stuck with one another. But you never thought that Aaron would ever feel a type of way about you.

Without any other words spoken, Aaron softly placed his lips onto yours. It took you a moment to process what was truly happening. Your step-dad was kissing you. Something you’ve longed for quite a while was finally happening. And after a few moments of shock, you kissed Aaron back. For what started off as soft and innocent quickly turned hot and heated as Aaron’s hand began to roam your body. You found yourself moving onto his lap, sitting on top of him as you cupped his face. One of his hands landed on your hip while the other entangled in your hair.

You felt heat going straight to your core, dampening your panties. You couldn’t help but crave friction. While kissing Aaron, you tentatively moved your hips against his, grinding your cunt onto his clothed bulge. The both of you let out soft moans of pleasure, Aaron’s fingers digging into your hip. He pulled away from the kiss to look up at you, placing his other hand on your other hip. “Can you feel just how much I want you?” he asked in that same soft tone as before as he grinded you on his cock again.

You let out a soft moan, nodding your head. “Yes,” you replied. “Take me to bed?” you asked, biting your lip.

“Of course, princess,” Aaron replied. He moved you off of him to stand up before picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs. You held on by wrapping your arms around his neck. He brought you to his bedroom, the one he shared with your mother, placing you on the edge of his side of the bed. He leaned down, still standing as you were sitting, and placed his lips on yours once more.

One of his hands roamed your body, landing on your right boob as he massaged the skin through your shirt. You gasped into the kiss, the sensation sending sparkes to your cunt. Aaron pulled away from the kiss, moving to grab the hem of your shirt before pulling it off of you, revealing your flesh to him. You hadn’t worn a bra after getting out of the shower as you didn’t expect anyone to be home tonight.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron said, moving a piece of your hair out of your face before leaning back down to kiss you. His hand massaged your skin, rolling your nipple around with his thumb. You let out a moan into Aaron’s mouth, unable to help yourself from making the noise.

After a few minutes of massaging both of your breasts, Aaron’s fingers trailed lower, reaching the waistline of your shorts. He pulled away from the kiss, looking at you with a serious face. “If you want me to stop, now would be the time to do so,” He exclaimed.

“Please don’t stop,” you responded, looking up at Aaron with a lustful gaze. “I-I need you so bad,” you admitted, blushing in slight embarrassment.

“Good girl,” Aaron replied, moving his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts and panties. His praise caused you to let out a whimper. “You like being called that, don’t you?”

You nodded your head in response.

Aaron simply hummed in acknowledgement, running a finger down your slit to feel your wetness. “God, you’re soaked,” he whispered in awe. “All for me, princess?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered back, the name just falling out of your mouth without any thought.

You hadn't even realized you said it until Aaron let out a groan. “Fuck,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. Those two words sent a jolt of heat straight to his cock as he processed what you had said. “I’ll give you anything you want, darling. You’re being such a good girl for me.” And with that, he began to rub your clit.

You let out a low moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you did so. Aaron moved himself so that he was sat behind you, his hand still on your clit while your back was pressed against his chest. He wrapped his other arm around you, leaning in to kiss your neck. His finger went from your clit to your hole, spreading your wetness around before easing a finger inside of you. You whined at the feeling, letting out a soft “daddy,” in pleasure.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said into your skin. He began moving his finger slowly inside of you, teasing your pussy. Your soft moans were like music to Aaron’s ears as he played with your cunt. He eventually added a second finger, stretching you out slightly as he quickened his pace. He hooked his fingers, hitting your g-spot and causing you to jolt and arch your back.

“O-oh fuck,” you moaned, placing a hand on Aaron’s thigh. “Oh my god.”

If you had asked yourself earlier in the day if your step-father would be finger fucking you right now, you likely would’ve laughed. But here you are, getting finger fucked by the man you’ve only thought about, never thinking it would actually happen. The room was filled with the sounds of your wet cunt as Aaron sped up his fingers. You were writhing in his arms, your head rested on his shoulder.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured into your ear, his hot breath on your skin. “I’ve dreamt about doing this,” he began to speak. “Every time I come home from a case and you’re just sitting there in your pajamas, focused on your coursework, looking so beautiful.” Aaron’s other hand moved to your left boob, massaging the skin. “When you’d stretch and let out a small moan, it never failed to make me want to bend you over and take you right then and there.”

You whined in response, his words, the added pleasure, the repeated movements of his fingers inside of you, it was all so much. You felt that familiar heat building in your abdomen as your orgasm slowly approached. “Don’t even get me started on that vacation we took a few months ago,” Aaron continued. “That skimpy bathing suit that barely hid anything when we went to the beach,” His voice was very attractive and soft as he spoke. “Couldn’t help but touch myself that night in the shower to the thought of you while your mother was just in the other room.”

“Daddy,” you moaned, your breathing becoming heavy and shaky. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby,” Aaron replied, moving his digits inside of you faster. “You’re doing so good.”

Your walls clenched around Aaron’s fingers as your orgasm came over you. Your thighs clamped together as you arched your back against Aaron, whining and moaning as you came. Aaron fingered you through your orgasm, coaxing you through it. And when you finally came down from your high, Aaron gave you soft kisses along your skin, calming you down.

“Daddy,” you sighed, leaning into his touch. “Need your cock,” you turned your head to look at Aaron, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“And you’ll get it, baby,” Aaron hummed, turning his face to kiss you on the lips. He let go of you, standing up from his spot behind you. “Take your shorts off for me.” He said as he began unbuttoning his shirt. You obliged, pulling down your shorts and tossing them to the side, leaving you fully nude. You bit your lip, looking up at Aaron with doe eyes.

Aaron tossed his shirt to the side before moving to unbuckle his pants. He tossed his belt to the side, unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his boxer briefs. You let out a small whimper as Aaron’s cock sprang out. He was about seven inches but he was quite girthy, definitely bigger than your previous partners. “You’re so big,” you whispered, looking at his cock.

Your words caused Aaron to chuckle. “Am I?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. “Glad you think so, princess.” He walked back over to the bed as he kicked his pants away. “Lay on your side for me.”

You nodded your head, laying down on your side, your head on the pillows. Aaron moved your leg, holding it up slightly as he kneeled on the mattress, straddling your other leg. He rested your leg on his thigh, grabbing his cock and guiding it to your pussy. He brought the tip to your clit before moving it down, spreading your wetness onto his cock. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the sheets. His cock moved to your hole, slowly probing at your entrance. You moaned at the intrusion, feeling the stretch in your cunt. Aaron hissed in pleasure as your walls enclosed around his member.

Tears formed in your eyes at the sting. Aaron leaned down to kiss your temple, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to relax you. When Aaron bottomed out, he stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. After a few minutes, the pain subsided. “Y-you can move,” you said.

Aaron began to slowly thrust, moving his hips out before moving back inside of you. The both of you let out moans as he settled into a slow rhythm. “You’re so fucking tight, princess,” Aaron groaned.

“So big, daddy,” you whined, burying your head into the pillow. Aaron’s cock filled you up so good, hitting in spots you had never felt before. “Never been so full.”

Aaron moaned softly, leaning down to capture your lips with his as he thrusted his hips. His cock grazed your g-spot, going deeper inside of you, causing you to let out a choked moan. “O-oh fuck,” you moaned against Aaron’s lips. “F-faster, please.”

And he obliged. He moved his hips at a faster pace, putting a hand in your hair and tugging at the strands. You started to moan louder, your eyes fluttering shut as Aaron’s cock plunged in and out of you. “You’re so perfect,” Aaron exclaimed, breathing heavily. “Being such a good girl for me.” Aaron started thrusting into you harshly, causing your walls to clench around his cock. “Mine,” he said, leaning down to nip at your neck.

“All yours, daddy,” you whined. “Always yours.” The moans leaving your mouth were whorish as his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making you see stars. You turned your head to bury it in the pillows.

That was until Aaron gripped your hair, yanking your head back a bit. “Look at me while I fuck you,” he said, his voice rough and filled with desire. You obeyed, turning your head to look up at Aaron with your beautiful eyes. His brown orbs were on you as he fucked you, his pace almost brutual.

The sensation of his cock pounding into you made tears of pleasure well up in your eyes, making you let out a sob. “Daddy,” you sobbed in pleasure. “it’s too much, too much.” you babbled.

Aaron cooed, running a soothing hand through your hair. “You can take it,” he replied, not relenting up. “Be a good girl and take it.” Aaron groaned.

The repeated assault onto your g-spot made your abdomen tighten as you felt your orgasm approaching. “So close,” you whimpered.

“Me too, baby, me too.”

And with just a few thrusts, you were clenching around Aaron’s cock, cumming for the second time that night. Aaron hissed in pleasure, letting out a moan as he followed suit, cumming inside of your cunt. You babbled as you came, letting out a mantra of “oh my gods” and “daddy” as Aaron moaned out sweet nothings.

When you both finished, the both of you were breathing heavily, Aaron still inside of you. He kissed your cheek. “You did so good,” he murmured.

As you came down from your high, Aaron pulled out, laying down next to you. He wrapped an arm around you, putting his other arm underneath your head and pulling you close to him. You turned towards him, laying your head on his chest. The both of you were silent, not saying a word as you processed what had happened. Your step father just fucked you into oblivion.

So what happens now?

“What does this mean for us?” You murmured softly, glancing up at Aaron’s face.

Aaron gave you a small smile, moving a piece of hair out of your face. “Well, we can continue as we were and pretend as though this didn’t happen,” he murmured back. “Or we can keep this a secret and explore what this is.”

“Our little secret?” You asked.

“Our little secret, princess.”

And so, that’s what it was. Your own little secret with your step-father. And thus your intimate relationship began.

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

shen yuan, dragon god of cang qiong mountain sect, has a new mission.

[Mission {Master of Masters} at 2% progress. Subquest {Master of One} begins now! USER_002 must obtain protagonist [Luo Binghe] as a personal disciple! Continue to work hard!]

there are steps between, of course. shen yuan comes back down the mountain once he’s calmed down—just to check on binghe, not to make a scene! but yue qingyuan was alerted that their sect’s god had descended his peak, and a meeting of all cang qiong’s lords was called. every peak lord is called back to cang qiong. it’ll take a week for everyone to arrive—liu qingge is off on a night hunt, and shang qinghua is accompanying his head disciple to negotiate contracts for fabrics and dyes (and, shen yuan thinks resentfully, probably off doing traitor-to-the-sect business. fuck that guy).

while they’re waiting, shen yuan is invited to stay on qiong ding—as if he doesn’t have a perfectly good mountain he can ascend again until the peak assembles. but yue qingyuan seems anxious to have him, and shen yuan is kind of internally geeking out over getting to properly meet this sect leader. so he agrees, and he’s arranged in a manor fit for a visiting sect leader, which is kind of insane. rich, dark woods; silks in qiong ding’s deep blues and grays; night pearls illuminating every room. is this how people live in this world???

yue qingyuan…hovers a fair bit. surely he should be busy with sect-leader-y things, but apparently having shen yuan come down is a huge deal that requires yue qingyuan’s constant attention. bringing tea and snacks, accompanying him to meals on each peak with all the lords in residence (except shen qingqiu), escorting him to and from qing jing every day when he goes to check on binghe.

that always seems a little uncomfortable for yue qingyuan. shen yuan is still rightfully pissed about binghe’s treatment, but he hasn’t gotten that horrible feeling that his territory is under threat again, so he assumes binghe is alright. the first time he tells yue qingyuan that he’s going to qing jing to check on ‘that young disciple your shidi thought it right to whip,’ yqy gets this constipated look on his face before—before fucking defending sqq.

saying sqq isn’t a cruel man, really—or, he is, but not without reason. all of cang qiong’s disciples are disciplined when it’s appropriate, he says. shen shidi has had problems with that disciple before, and lord canglong shouldn’t judge him too harshly before he hears the full story.

the furious energy crackling around shen yuan is enough to cut yue qingyuan’s entreaty for leniency off. yue qingyuan always seemed like the kindly big-brother type in the novel, if a bit too indulgent of sqq. and shen yuan always wondered why he would turn a blind eye to sqq’s abuse of lbh when he knew it was going on. now he’s seen it with his own eyes, and yue qingyuan still has the audacity to try to cover for sqq, and it kind of makes shen yuan sick.

he’s been doing his best to play the part of the great immortal now that the upset of his initial descent from the mountain has passed. but when yqy defends sqq like this, shen yuan can’t help but drop all pretense of formality and glare, eyes blazing, at this sect leader. ‘do you think i’m fucking stupid?’ he spits. and yqy pales, horror in his eyes, trembling more as shen yuan lays into him.

to discipline a child is to teach them the way they should go. what does whipping a thirteen-year-old boy teach him? shen yuan knows what luo binghe has learned from his shizun’s instruction. that he is stupid, incapable, unworthy of his martial family’s care. that the sect who took him in—the sect shen yuan himself established centuries ago—only took him so it would have something to beat.

shen yuan is pissed. he doesn’t wait for yqy’s escort to qing jing; he takes his sword there himself, finds luo binghe, and brings him back to the guest manor yqy set him up in. binghe is confused, of course, to be faced with his savior’s fury, but when lord canglong makes a request of him, he’s all to happy to comply. and if he buries his face against lord canglong’s robes as they fly back to qiong ding, it’s only to protect his face from the wind.

there’s warmth in his chest whenever he walks near lord canglong, and as he’s led by a hand on his shoulder into lord canglong’s guest quarters, binghe feels like he might combust (in one part, from the overwhelming, humbling joy he feels at being the subject of his sect’s god’s attention; in the other part, because lord canglong’s grip is imbued with so much spiritual power it makes binghe’s skin tingle all the way down to his toes).

binghe follows lord canglong into the main room and, when it’s clear they’re done walking, he sinks to his knees in gratitude.

‘enough of that, luo binghe,’ shen yuan splutters, reaching to pull binghe up from his kowtow. honestly, he’s going to be the emperor! none of this prostration; it’ll only be a debt on his head later on! ‘get up. i won’t see you humble yourself to this—uh’ shit! System, help! What do gods like this call themselves?!!

[Answering USER_002, his title is {Lord Canglong, Shen Yuan, Grand Master of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.} ‘This Grandmaster’ would be expected and appropriate.]

god, that feels so pretentious. shen yuan swallows his millennial sensibilities and does his best to thicken his face a little. ‘—to this grandmaster whose sect has treated him so poorly.’

binghe looks up with stars in his night-dark eyes, and it takes every shred of shen yuan’s self control not to soften at the awe in this child’s face. how come no one told him little lord luo would be so cute?! of course he’s adorable; he’s the protagonist.

‘this—this lowly disciple wouldn’t dare—that is, he wouldn’t presume to, um—lord canglong is—”

poor thing! too cute, too cute!

‘luo binghe is not lowly,’ shen yuan says first, because that feels like the most important part to address. no humbling yourself in front of this old dragon, ah! no debts to this sect! ‘didn’t this grandmaster say in front of everyone that luo binghe is uniquely gifted?’

‘this disciple thought…’ luo binghe’s eyes are already trained on the ground, but he shrinks into himself at this. in this grand room, luo binghe looks so small, so unlike the menacing demon lord shen yuan knows he’ll become. ‘this disciple thought that perhaps, in his anger, lord canglong…exaggerated… to make a point to shizun.’

‘if i have anything to say about it,’ shen yuan mutters, ‘he won’t be your shizun much longer.’

at that, luo binghe’s gaze snaps up, his shoulders tight. ‘this stupid disciple doesn’t understand.’

‘not stupid,’ shen yuan says immediately. ‘what this grandmaster means to say is just that. luo binghe will not be a qing jing peak disciple for much longer. this grandmaster does not trust qing jing peak’s lord to raise luo binghe well, so he will do it himself.’

[c0mbatchameleon]

@jegulus-microfic April 21st, prompt: run, words: 1160, nsfw

aka regulus comes until he cries? that’s basically it yeah (+t4t jeg)

He shouldn’t cry.

It’s what Regulus has heard since—well, as early as he can remember. Crying is a vulnerability he can’t afford, a sign of weakness, and the Black family are anything but weak. Don’t be a baby, they’d say—to the literal fucking baby.

The last time Regulus cried was when he was 7 years old, he thinks—his mother certainly made sure he never did it again. And even long after he left that house behind, left his family and everything they stand for, found a new family, found a new home and new self unrestrained by hatred and abuse, transitioned, finally became comfortable with himself, his identity—after all of it, this is what he’s held onto. The belief that he shouldnt cry.

At least, it was what he held onto.

Now, as Regulus finds himself bent over the kitchen counter, nails dragging down the cool granite that he’s pressed flush against, he’s beginning to think crying isn’t so bad after all.

The tears started falling after his second consecutive orgasm, streaming freely down his face as he convulsed around James’ strap. James only slowed his thrusts to something deep and drawn out as he leaned forward and cooed, “That’s it baby, let it out,” hot breath cascading down Regulus’s ear and neck, hand stroking his hair gently. Languid kisses pressed down his neck and shoulder as he twitched and softly gasped in overstimulation.

He barely got a chance to catch his breath before—

“How ‘bout one more for me, yeah?” And just like that, James was drawing out and ramming back into him with a brutal pace. Regulus let out a choked gasp as his vision whited out, back arching, legs shaking. All he could respond was a tear-streaked string of oh fuck oh fuck oh fu—ah—please as James continued chanting soft praise and encouragement, railing him into a new fucking plane of existence.

That leaves him here, hurtling head first towards a third orgasm and choking on intermittent sobs and moans in rhythm with James’ thrusts. Each one is hitting that spot that sends a line of white-hot electricity up his navel, fraying his nerves until his entire body feels like an exposed wire. His hands grab for purchase on the countertop, unsuccessfully, as he tries to drag himself up, away, anywhere to put distance between himself and the onslaught of pleasure-pain that’s spreading like a fire across his whole body.

But James only digs his hand into Regulus’ curls and pulls, the other wrapped around the front of him so Regulus’ cock grinds into it with each movement of their hips. “Where are you trying to run off to, love?” he teases as his grip tightens and holds Regulus in place.

“Oh fuck— I can’t—“ Regulus’ own moan cuts him off, loud and lacking shame. “S’too much,” he whines.

“But you love it, don’t you?” Soft lips trace up behind his ear. “You don’t want me to stop, love, do you?” Regulus’ eyes roll back into his head. The hand presses down further on his cock and another sob escapes him. “C’mon, tell me how much you love it when I take you apart like this,” James coaxes, pulling him up further by his hair so that he has to balance on his forearms, his head falling back.

And, here, in this state of over-saturated, pure white static bliss where Regulus can barely distinguish reality, the world around him, anything other than James’ hands and James’ lips and James’ sweet-honey voice and James and James and James, the only thought he can form amidst the haze is the one James has supplied for him so graciously, so giving as always: that he loves it.

You love it, don’t you?

And Regulus does.

He loves having his walls taken down, brick by brick until he’s bare, surrendered to pleasure and to release. God, he fucking loves this release. The kind he never allowed himself before, the way it washes over his whole body and builds up like a dam, the way it flows in and out of him, completely open, running rivers down his face and sending shocks out from his core, chest heaving, bones melting, transcending his own body and yet more grounded in it than he’s ever been. He’s nothing but skin and shaking muscle and neuron and nerve ending and pure, unfiltered feeling, and, yes, he loves it. So, he does what he’s told and voices it, let’s it flow out of him like the rest of the dam, frantic and breathless.

“I love it, I—ah—oh—I love it, I love it I love it I—fuck—“

“That’s good, that’s right, fuck, you’re doing so well, baby. You look so pretty when you cry like this” James praises, breathless now, tone soaked in awe and pure adoration as he watches Regulus repeat the phrase like a mantra, an oath, a prayer, the words melting together to the point of near incoherence: I love it I love it Iloveitloveitloveitloveloveitloveit.

“That’s it, I know, baby,” he tugs on Regulus’ curls again, pulling him up against his chest. The new angle makes his cock drive deeper into Regulus, drawing a strangled moan out between his quick, gasping breaths. “Why don’t you show me how much?”

His fingers move in quick circles on Regulus’ cock, other arm wrapping around his shoulders to hold him up. “C’mon, let go for me one more time, Star.”

The simple order is all it takes. When Regulus comes, it’s with stars behind his eyes and tears flowing freely and a scream tearing through him, head hanging back on James’ shoulder, back bowed, clenching down on silicone as shudders rack through his body in waves. James works him through it with a slew of there you go and so good for me and so perfect and show me how good it feels, baby, that’s it.

He collapses back onto James, boneless, and breathes. Shakily. James squeezes him tight. All that concentrated flame has simmered and spread out into something soft and warm and buzzing all throughout his body. A small whimper escapes at the feeling of James pulling out, his core still throbbing around nothing.

James scoops him up easily, laying him down gently on the couch in the next room, and kneels down to cradle his face with his hands.

“Okay?” he asks softly, kissing Regulus’ forehead.

Regulus keeps his eyes closed and smiles in delirious dream-state bliss, just barely aware that he’s still sniffling. “Love it,” he mumbles, and James snorts as his thumbs swipe back and forth under his eyes. His head is still cloudy, his body floating somewhere with it. “Love you,” he adds dazedly.

“Always so sweet after you come,” James remarks. “Think if I get you to five next time you’d propose to me after?”

If Regulus had the energy, he’d roll his eyes. Instead, he reaches out and runs his hand through James’ hair, down the back of his neck, along the scars on his chest, down his arm where he grabs his hand and pulls it into his own chest, body curling around it like he’s hoarding it. James doesn’t seem to mind. “We’re already married, James,” Regulus mumbles. “I literally proposed.”

James chuckles softly, fondly. “I love you, too, Star.”

[etz-ashashiyot]

You know how sometimes arguing a point is losing?

Like if you engage the argument at all you are inherently putting up for debate things that should never be up for debate and the argument itself is degrading?

You see this with interpersonal gaslighting:

A gaslighter doesn’t simply need to be right. They also need for you to believe that they are right. In stage one, you know that they’re being ridiculous, but you argue anyways. You argue for hours, without resolution. You argue over things that shouldn’t be up for debate  – your feelings, your opinions, your experience of the world. You argue because you need to be right, you need to be understood, or you need to get their approval. In stage one, you still believe yourself, but you also unwittingly put that belief up for debate. In stage two, you consider your gaslighter’s point of view first and try desperately to get them to see your point of view as well. You continue to engage because you’re afraid of what their perspective of you says about you. Winning the argument now has one objective :  proving that you’re still good, kind, and worthwhile. In stage three, when you’re hurt, you first ask, “What’s wrong with me?” You consider their point of view as normal. You start to lose your ability to make your own judgements. You become consumed with understanding them and seeing their perspective. You live with and obsess over every criticism, trying to solve it.

[Source]

But you also see this on a broader societal level, with people asking unfathomably awful questions about minority groups, such as:

[Source]

It should go without saying, but no group of people should be forced to explain that yes, they really are real people, dickheads. The question doesn't deserve an answer; it deserves at best a disgusted eyeroll + "Are you a Nazi?" and at worst a punch to the face.

There is also the related phenomenon of the "when did you stop beating your wife?" type questions. The question is framed as a yes or no question, but the real answer for the innocent is: "I've never beaten my wife and never would." But even that answer still dignifies the question with a real response and puts the idea in the mind of the listener that hey maybe that's a real possibility and this guy is lying because of course he wouldn't just admit that. Now I don't know what to believe, but I'm skeptical.

Even if he answers, doubt has been cast on his character and many people (maybe even most people) neither have the attention span to listen to his full counter argument and supporting evidence nor are invested enough in strangers' lives to take the time to dig for facts on their own. Critically, it comes from a good impulse that shouldn't be repressed or taken too far in the opposite direction; namely, that we want to believe survivors and make it socially acceptable to speak out about abuse.

This leaves us with the uncomfortable reality that balancing believing survivors and whistle-blowers against not automatically believing allegations that very well may be false and/or in bad faith is a very tricky balancing act indeed. Because of this, people tend to struggle with taking survivors seriously and with presuming innocence until guilt has actually been proven, both. And as for the latter, this is at least partially due to the same psychological factors underlying the Don't Think of an Elephant problem.

Why am I discussing this?

See the thing is that these types of discourse have all been used, heavily, against the Jewish community, especially since Oct 7th, but really going back hundreds of years.

If you want to be our ally, you need to be on guard for how people use this rhetoric to accuse Jews of absolutely batshit cookoo bananas allegations (like being lizard people or having horns, or secretly running the world, or killing Christian babies to use their blood in our matzah, etc. etc.) and get away with it. Now obviously if so many people weren't already racist towards Jews as a people and had a vested interest in maintaining their supercessionist cultural worldview from Christianity and Islam, it would be a lot harder for this to work. Alas, the past 2000 years has created a bit of a snowballing effect.

This culminates in the effect described so well by Sartre:

Never believe that anti-Semites are completely unaware of the absurdity of their replies. They know that their remarks are frivolous, open to challenge. But they are amusing themselves, for it is their adversary who is obliged to use words responsibly, since he believes in words. The anti-Semites have the right to play. They even like to play with discourse for, by giving ridiculous reasons, they discredit the seriousness of their interlocutors. They delight in acting in bad faith, since they seek not to persuade by sound argument but to intimidate and disconcert. If you press them too closely, they will abruptly fall silent, loftily indicating by some phrase that the time for argument is past.

— Jean-Paul Sartre

Right now, Jews are facing extreme levels of these types of rhetorical abuse, and are receiving very little help in the way of pushback.

We have to stop trying to explain ourselves and start just naming these tactics instead.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mental health, abandonment issues, abuse, etc. words -> 1.4k

abstract -> insecurties sometimes need to be faced

mingi's perspective

“Mingi I know you don’t want to but it's for your health,” she said and I pouted not wanting to leave my room… “How is he that tall and a baby?” I scoffed at the tiny tiger. 

“I never complained,” Yeosang said. I knew he didn’t… but we have different treatments. “Which I’m grateful for Yeosang” she muttered and I hated that I pulled a tantrum on her but I hated the sessions with the doctor. 

“Mingi, please… you always do this when Saturday comes” she pleaded and I’ve done five sessions so far. I’ve been here for five weeks already. 

Everyone was so accepting…

Seonghwa and Hongjoong were often giving me advice and consoled me when y/n wasn’t present. While Yeosang even helped me get used to being a hybrid who didn’t do anything. San and Wooyoung just liked to mess around most of the time and even asked me to join. 

I sucked it up and followed making her smile…

I started realizing just how much everyone here adores the human girl. Even Yunho adored her in the little time he talked to her.

She was too good to be true.

I assumed one day she’d just not pick me up from the doctor… that I was a mistake for her.

“Mingi we’re gonna talk about your insecurities today,” the doctor said and I dreaded today’s session. Through the five weeks we talked about me… what I liked, and hated, did I liked my new home, and now… about my past

“What worries you the most while being under y/n’s care?” he asked and I sighed. “That I shouldn’t be there” I confessed and he didn’t show any emotion, just nodded and wrote things down. 

“Why is that?” he asked and I stayed silent until I realized he wouldn’t skip the question… “My past owner often told me how it was a mistake ever adopting me… she’d treat her other hybrid better and often threatened to leave me if I wasn’t following her orders,” I said and he nodded. 

“Do you feel that way in your new home?” he asked and I shook my head. “I feel included… all the other hybrids often give me company alongside y/n. She treats everyone equally but I worry one day it won’t be that way” I said and stopped writing to look at me. 

“Mingi you should know that voicing out your opinions isn’t a bad thing. You have a voice and if anytime you feel like you’re not being treated the way you should be then you can tell me and we’ll take you back” he said and I hated the thought of leaving my new home. 

“From the look on your face, you don’t want that. It's a good home, y/n is a good person and has had some of her hybrids for a year now. If I knew that any of those hybrids were unfit to be taken by y/n none of them would be with her” 

“How was today’s session?” she asked as we ate lunch at a cafe. It was something I really appreciated. Every session I would have my own time with her without interruptions where she’d talk to me and even praise me for going through another session.

“He analyzed my insecurities,” I said as I ate my food without looking at her. “Hmm… if you ever need to talk with me about it you can,” she said and I smiled softly

“I heard from Seonghwa that Yeosang did sessions?” I asked, finally looking at her and she nodded with a soft smile. 

“Yeosang was very difficult in the beginning… he would struggle a lot with food and concepts of… how do I say it?” she asked herself and I knew what she meant. 

“He’d be very adamant in not being indebted to someone's kindness and thought that he’d need to pay it back” she explained and I nodded. 

“He did three months there before showing signs of improvement,” she said and I was shocked. Did it take that long? “He improved a lot with food but still feels sick after eating new foods” she confessed and I nodded. 

“He’s improved so much though. And you are too!” she said with a grin clearly happy talking about hybrids. It made me smile at how enthusiastic she was. 

Yunho was right… She is a good person.

“I’ve had a question for you since you fostered me” I confessed and she looked shocked but nodded waiting for me to ask…

“Why were they taken away from you?” I asked and she looked sadly at her plate of food. Did I ask something I shouldn’t?!

“Hongjoong… he attacked me,” she said and I was shocked. Hongjoong was so protective of y/n who would constantly be behind her in public glaring at hybrids and anyone around. 

“He came from the circus as you know… he has a deep hatred for people one worse than San’s. He attacked me after thinking I would hurt him because I got too close too quickly. He grabbed my head with his claws–” She turned her head and lifted her hair so I could see the claw marks scars that she had.

“-- and threw me on the wall where I hit the wall… apparently Yeosang called Kun and soon hybrid control and EMTs came. They held them all as black-coded hybrids at first because of the attack. They were all under evaluation when I woke up and didn’t allow me to get them back after they were cleared.”

She explained and I didn’t know what to say. 

“I decided to give Hongjoong a second chance and he’s been amazing ever since, '' she added and I was so confused… “Why do you care so much?” I asked and it took her off guard. 

“Why are hybrids so important to you? Even though two attacked you? One used you… I don’t understand” I asked and she smiled. 

“Well… my parents have had hybrids since I was a kid. I grew up around them and they always taught me to be kind to everyone including hybrids. So mistreatment towards them always saddened me since I know you aren’t pets. You guys are like us just with animal genetics–” I hate how I felt my eyes burn with tears. 

“So I decided to volunteer in places like the Seoul Hybrid Rehabilitation Facility and write about my experiences as a hybrid activist. I soon also enjoy writing about hybrids. People sometimes only listen when they’re immersed in a book that tells them in detail about what they go through '' she said and I nodded. 

“I actually have a book that I wrote… my first actual novel.  About how hybrid and human roles were reversed. Humans were pets and hybrids the owners.” she said and I laughed and she smiled. 

“How about the one you’re writing now?” I asked and she chuckled. “It's named circus. I added all my hybrids in the story, even you and Yunho, '' she said and I felt my eyes widen. 

“A circus where so far six hybrids revolt and create a revolution against the government. The protagonist is named Jum a lion hybrid who is actually inspired by Hongjoong” she said and I was shocked. 

“How about everyone else?” I asked and she smiled while thinking about them and her book. 

“Seonghwa is a character named Si-woo a leopard hybrid, San and Wooyoung are inspired by cat hybrids called Kyong and Yong, and Yeong is a rabbit hybrid inspired by Yeosang. You are a hybrid, I decided to call Min-jun a German shepherd hybrid who works with the police, while Yunho is still a hound called Seo-jun” she said and I smiled. 

“Thank you,” I said and she chuckled. “I take a lot of inspiration from real life,” she chuckled.

That book was special to her. She often spent time with Hongjoong adding more to it. To be added and with Yunho… it was a feeling of warmth knowing I inspired something. 

I may not be with Yunho anymore but I knew that she loved me equally. I may miss my friend but I will hold onto this part of my life and enjoy it for the rest of my time with her. 

She was my safe place. 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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