#he’s taken to just walking around with her on his back

[reidsbabyhoney]

second chances | s.r.

the one where Spence regrets everything that’s happened in the past six months.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader category: angst, fluff cw: none wc: 3.3k a/n: this took forever too write because every time i tried writing it i absolutely hated how it came out. i’m hoping i gave them the ending they deserved and that you all love it! also please let me know if there's any warnings I should add.

pt.1 masterlist spencer reid masterlist

The entire car ride home was a blur, and you mean that literally. The tears that coated your eyes never seemed to stop even after you arrived back home. The dull hum of the engine couldn't seem to drown out the noise-deafening pounding in your chest.

You couldn't help but replay every moment from tonight on a loop, the gut wrenching realization that Spencer moved on so quickly, so easily. It felt as if your entire world had been tilted on its axis and you were left to live in a reality that didn't make any sense.

Maya. You hadn't been able to look at her without a sharp pang of jealousy making its way though your chest. The way she spoke to Spencer, so casually, so possessively like you were going to take her from him at any second. But in reality that's what she did to you.

You told yourself that you were fine, that you had enough time to move on and get over that relationship, but its clear you were lying to yourself. Every moment you were in his presence were the few moments of bliss where you could pretend everything with him was normal.

You had loved him. You still did. The harsh truth of that might've hurt worse than tonight's events.

Once you finally arrived home you didn't bother to go inside right away. Turning off the car you sit staring at the dashboard, trying to ground yourself in something, anything but the whirlwind of emotions going on in your mind right now.

As your about to open the door, your phone buzzes in the passenger seat. Picking it up you see it's a message from Penelope.

From: Penny

Are you okay, sweetheart? If you need anything I'm just a phone call away. Please don't let his stupidity ruin your night, we all know how much of an amazing person you are!

A small smile painted its way across your features, though drained and not very genuine.

You quickly texted her back letting her know you were okay and just needed some time to process everything. With that you finally got out of the car making your way inside, preparing for another sleepless night.

-

You had taken the day off. Well technically you didn't request it, it was given to you by Hotch. The team had just gotten back from a long gruesome case and he decided that everyone needed some time to decompress.

It had been a couple weeks since 'The Incident' as Emily has so kindly labeled it. Since then the unkind thoughts hadn't left your mind.

You spent most of the day curled up on the couch barely able to focus on the movies playing on the TV. Your mind was a storm of thoughts that blossomed from that night, though not into flowers, more so like weeds that didn't want to fully be pulled from the ground.

You replayed every word he said that night. Every glance, subtle expression. There was no warmth in his tone, nothing that suggested the gentle, awkward genius who had found solace in your presence.

You knew it hurt, but what hurt more was the realization that Spencer wasn't the only thing you lost that night. You were mourning the loss of what had been,  what could've been.

-

The next morning, you showed up at the office. The decision half-hearted, debating on requesting for another day out of the crowded space. You're not sure what you were expecting, for something to just change overnight, or if you needed to prove to yourself that you could handle it.

You walked in to see the team gathered around the bullpen. Derek was leaning against the counter, talking animatedly to JJ, while Penelope was chattering away in her usual high-energy manner. They all seemed fine, but you knew they could feel your emotions. You had always worn them on your sleeve, and the team was nothing if not perceptive.

And Spencer? He was nowhere to be found.

Your heart dropped, but you quickly masked the disappointment with a neutral expression. You couldn’t allow yourself to think about him right now, not with everything else going on.

As you slid into your chair, you could feel their eyes on you every now and then, but none of them dared to speak up. It was only when the elevator doors opened that you saw Spencer walking toward the bullpen. His usual awkward stride was missing, replaced by something… hesitant. His eyes briefly met yours, but instead of the usual spark of familiarity, there was something different. Something strained.

He was carrying a large coffee cup in his hand, but it seemed like he was just holding it for the sake of holding it.

“y/n,” he said softly, his voice laced with the same uncertainty that had been present in his eyes. You barely met his gaze, your stomach doing somersaults at the sight of him.

“Spence,” you said, offering a forced smile. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing, but you couldn’t let yourself show it.

“I, uh, can we talk?” he asked, his words tumbling out in that way that was so quintessentially Spencer.

Your gaze flickered around the room, but you didn’t want to make a scene. “Now’s not the best time.”

He nodded, but you could see the disappointment in his face. He hesitated for a moment before turning away and heading to his own desk. You didn’t watch him go, how could you?

-

Hours passed, and the tension between you and Spencer lingered like a heavy fog. Every now and then, you caught his eyes lingering on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but every time you met his gaze, he looked away.

You were exhausted. Your mind was scattered. And when you finally gathered the courage to step away from your desk to grab a coffee, it was then that Spencer decided to approach you.

“y/n,” he called out gently, his voice softer now, less urgent.

You paused mid-step, not sure how to respond. His presence was overwhelming, and even though you wanted to retreat, you knew you couldn’t keep avoiding him forever.

Turning around slowly, you nodded. “Spencer.”

“Can we talk?” he asked again, this time with more sincerity in his voice.

You studied him carefully, unsure whether you could trust yourself to keep calm. “Do we really need to? I think we’ve said everything we need to say.”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I don’t think we have. At least not yet.” He paused, looking down at his feet. “Please.”

You could hear the desperation in his voice, and for the first time since that night, you allowed yourself to truly look at him. You didn’t know what had changed, but you knew it was something important. You had loved Spencer for so long, and maybe it was time to let him explain himself.

“Alright,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s talk.”

-

The conference room door clicked shut behind you, and for a brief moment, you felt like you were trapped. The silence was thick, oppressive. Spencer stood by the window, facing away from you, his shoulders tense, his hands hanging stiffly at his sides. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. The space between you felt impossibly wide, like an ocean stretching between two distant shores.

You wanted to scream. To demand answers. To ask why. But you couldn’t, because the truth was, you were too scared of what might come next. The flood of emotions coursing through you felt like too much to bear. And the pain? The pain was undying.

Finally, Spencer spoke, but his voice was soft, almost trembling. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his words breaking the stillness in the room, but they did little to ease the ache in your chest.

He turned slowly, his eyes dropping to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I’m so sorry. For the way I ended things... for pushing you away.”

His gaze finally met yours, but there was no spark there, no warmth. Just an empty, hollow ache, the same one you felt. The distance between you both was palpable.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was giving you space to breathe… to move on. To get away from the chaos that’s always been a part of my life.”

The words struck you like a punch to the gut. Protecting you? Was that what this was? Did he think he was being noble by choosing to shut you out?

“You pushed me away, Spencer,” you said, your voice trembling with the rawness of everything you were holding in. “I didn’t ask for space. I didn’t ask for you to shut me out. I was here… I've always been here.” The anger, the hurt, it all poured out of you, and you couldn’t stop it even if you tried. “I just needed you to be honest with me. To tell me the truth, not hide behind your fears.”

His face faltered at your words, and for a moment, he looked like he might crumble under the weight of your pain. “I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking as if he hadn’t even meant to say it. “I was scared that if I kept you close, I would ruin everything. That I’d hurt you more. I thought if I pulled away, you’d be better off without me. But all I’ve done is hurt you even more.”

The truth of his words hit you like a wave, but it didn’t bring relief. Instead, it left you feeling raw, exposed. How could he think that? How could he think leaving was the solution? You had been through so much together. But the thought of him choosing to walk away, of him choosing her, it crushed you.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, Spencer,” you whispered, the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill over. Your heart was breaking, the weight of everything that had happened too much to carry anymore.

“You didn’t just break my heart… you broke me. I was waiting for you. I thought... I thought we could work through this. But you didn’t give me a chance. And now you’re asking me to just… what? To just forget?”

Spencer’s face crumpled as if your words were a physical blow, but he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. He was broken too, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable, scared even. “I don’t want you to forget,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion.

“I just want a chance. A chance to prove that I’m not that guy anymore. That I’m not the one who left you… that I’m the one who’s ready to fight for us.”

You shook your head, a sob escaping before you could stop it. “I don’t know if I can believe you anymore, Spencer. I don’t know if I can trust you after everything.”

He stepped forward, his hands trembling as they reached out toward you. “Please,” he whispered, desperation creeping into his voice. “I’ve spent every second of the last six months thinking about how much I screwed up, wishing I could go back and do things differently. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, erratic, unsure whether it was breaking or yearning for something—anything that might bring you peace. You knew Spencer had made mistakes, but he wasn’t the only one at fault. You had kept yourself at a distance too, not because you wanted to, but because you were terrified of what this might mean. Of what letting him back in might cost you.

“I’m scared, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m scared that if I let you back in, you’ll leave again. That you’ll hurt me again.”

He closed the distance between you, standing just inches away now. You could see the unshed tears in his eyes, the way his face was etched with guilt and regret. He reached for your hand, but instead of pulling away, you let him. You let him hold you, as fragile as it felt, as broken as you both were in that moment.

“I won’t leave again,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear. I’ll fight for you. For us. I’ll fight for as long as it takes.”

The raw honesty in his voice, his words full of pain, of hope. It made something inside you snap. The walls you had built around your heart were crumbling, piece by piece. You didn’t know if you could ever go back to the way things were, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something new. Something better.

“I’m not asking for things to be perfect,” Spencer continued, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, the small touch making your pulse race. “I just need you to know that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You met his gaze then, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, but this time they weren’t just born from hurt. There was something else there. Something like hope. “I’m not ready to forgive you yet, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “But I’m willing to try. I’m willing to see where this goes. If you really mean it.”

His face softened, the tension easing just a fraction. “I do,” he whispered, his hand still gently holding yours. “I mean it. More than anything.”

And as he pulled you into his arms, you let yourself hold on, just for a moment. You weren’t sure where this would lead, or if you could ever truly forget the pain. But for the first time in a long while, you weren’t alone. And maybe that was enough.

-

It was one of those quiet mornings that felt like a small slice of heaven. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow through the windows, and the only sound in the apartment was the rhythmic hum of the coffee maker.

The air was still cool from the night before, but the warmth of the morning sun slowly crept in, filling the room with a gentle golden light.

You were sitting at the kitchen table, your bare feet tucked under you, a mug of coffee warming your hands. Your hair was messy from sleep, but you didn’t mind.

You had gotten used to waking up next to Spencer every morning, and the sight of him, still half-asleep, a little rumpled, and incredibly endearing, was one of the small things you’d grown to cherish.

Spencer was at the counter, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he flipped through a pile of paperwork. The clutter of his case files and textbooks was a normal part of your life now, but the way he had rearranged things over the past few months, more neatly than ever before, was a quiet testament to how much he had changed. He wasn’t perfect, but he was working on it. He was trying, and that was all that mattered.

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke the quiet, pulling your attention away from your thoughts.

You looked up from your coffee, meeting his soft brown eyes. He was still wearing his sleep-filled smile, the one that only appeared after a good night’s sleep, when he wasn’t overthinking or buried under a pile of cases.

“I was wondering… would you mind helping me with something later?” His voice was tentative, but there was something else there now, something more confident. He wasn’t afraid to ask for help anymore.

You’d noticed that shift in him over the past few months, the way he wasn’t afraid to lean on you, to let you in when before he would have kept his distance. It had taken time, but now, when he needed you, he knew how to reach for you without hesitation.

“Of course,” you said with a smile, your heart swelling at how far you’d come since that difficult conversation. “What do you need help with?”

Spencer hesitated for just a moment, glancing down at the paperwork. His fingers hovered over the pile, as though unsure how to ask. “I’m working on this case… and I just need to go over the details. I know you’ve got that… special way of seeing things,” he said with a playful grin, using the affectionate nickname you’d earned after countless cases where your instincts had been spot on. “You’re better at spotting the details than I am.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, playfully teasing. “Oh, so now I’m the expert, huh? I thought you were the genius here.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and he shook his head, walking over to the table and taking a seat across from you. He didn’t even try to hide the fondness in his gaze as he looked at you. “You are the expert,” he said softly. “And I’m just the guy who gets to learn from you every day.”

The words lingered between you, warm and comfortable. You reached across the table, brushing your fingers over his hand in a simple, affectionate gesture. A small smile played on your lips as you felt his fingers intertwine with yours, and for the first time, you didn’t feel like you had to hold anything back. There was no fear of losing each other, no worry that the cracks would reopen. Everything—every single piece of you—had found a place next to him, and for once, it felt right.

“I’ll help you,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “Just like I always do.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a quiet sense of gratitude. You knew, deep down, that he wasn’t just thankful for your help with the case. He was thankful for everything—for your patience, for your trust, for the fact that despite all the mistakes and misunderstandings, you were still here. You had come through the storm together, stronger than before, and you could feel it in every touch, in every glance. There was an unspoken understanding between you now. A promise that no matter what came your way, you would face it as a team.

“You know,” Spencer said, his voice low, “I never thought I’d have something like this. Something so... real. So comfortable.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and free, a stark contrast to the uncertainty that had plagued your earlier months together. “I think we’ve finally figured out how to make it work,” you said, your voice steady and full of warmth. “No more pushing each other away. No more running. Just… us.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze softening as his thumb gently traced the back of your hand. “I’m not running anymore,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice bringing a warmth to your chest. “I’m staying. For good.”

There was no need for more words. You leaned across the table, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was slow and full of meaning. It wasn’t a kiss filled with urgency or desperation, but one of quiet comfort. One of trust and affection. One that said we’re here, and that was enough.

As you pulled away, you saw the same sense of contentment reflected in his eyes, a peacefulness that had taken months to build but was finally here. You didn’t need anything else, because with Spencer, you had everything you’d ever wanted.

The coffee and case files were long forgotten as the two of you sat there, simply enjoying each other’s company. There was no rush to get to the day, no lingering doubt or fear. Just the warmth of his presence beside you, and the certainty that no matter what the future held, you’d face it together.

all notes and reposts are appreciated!! loving you always xx

divider: @fairytopea

tags: @floralemi12 @laviatia-blog @reggieswriter @hazzarules @spencerreidsglasses @notarobotipromise @gghostwriter @taygrls @powerline-valley @october-baby25 @forevermorepassionate

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[biteyoubiteme]

needy jealousy

yeonjun x fem!reader x kai

synopsis: your boyfriends decide to join nonutnovember.

warnings: 🔞!!! throuple/poly, established realtionship, no mxm, no protection, mentions of cum eating, creampie(s),she/her used prob forgot some sorry

wc: 3.4k

an: not proofread pls have mercy im so sleepy, I told myself I would keep these under 2k and im a liar bc as soon as this came in I knew I wouldn't be able to make it short ;-; hopefully it’s good lol thank you so much for the request @apeachty ily and you know exactly what I want to write next without even trying lol our minds are linked. also peep the reference to busy signal! anyways I have a whole bunch of other yeonkai x reader fics so check them out if you want!

[m.list] [1kevent! m.list]

“no,”

“what do you mean by no?” yeonjun asks, “You can’t or won’t?” He's leaning back against the headboard, scrolling on his phone when he gets the message in his group chat. 

“I won’t,” you shrug, snuggling closer to Kai. He's half asleep, nose pressed to the back of your neck, arms loosely wrapped around you. 

“It's only one month, you’re saying you can’t go one month without sex?” 

“Not that I can’t, just that I won’t. It’s so stupid if I want to cum I will, with or without you,” you pat the back of huenings hand resting against your stomach. “I do have two boys to take care of me,” 

kai chuckles, sleep ridden in the rumble on your back, “I’m going to try it,” 

“I cannot believe both of you are falling into peer pressure, just cause the other boys are doing it doesn’t mean you have to,” 

“I was told if I hold out longer than beomgyu I get a free coffee for every day I last,” yeonjun flips his phone for you to see his chat, and sure enough everyone is bragging about how they could make it till the end of November without getting off. 

“Fine, do what you want. I’m not going to sit and beg you,” holding up two fingers you wave them in his face, “I can do it myself,” 

“You don't even know how to use these,” he grabs at your wrist, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. 

“I'll spend the month learning, or I'll just use the vibrator and the two of you will just have to sit and watch,” 

It seemed like such a light threat at the time. Not one that you would hold to but it wasn't as if you needed to hold it in the first place. Only two days in and it felt like both of them would fail. Neither of them brought this up to you, but it wasn't like they needed to, the signs were everywhere. 

Yeonjun had taken to spending time in the office when studying, all of his school work done with no time left for cuddling on the couch with you. More time spent working out with taehyun and less flirty texts in between sessions like he usually sent. Huening on the other hand was slowly closing off. His tight responses ended in silence, hardly answering in your group chat. Even in bed at night both of their backs turned to you as you lay there looking up at the ceiling. 

It wasn't as if you all were sex addicts, what the challenge really was, was knowing that you couldn't do something vs. just not being in the mood. It was the forbidden fruit effect spread out before them. Everything you did now was hot even if it was the most mundane thing imaginable. The season was changing and now even just watching you take off your coat after coming in from outside was enough to get them hard. Just the idea of taking your clothes off, even just one layer, was enough to send them on their way to their respective avoidance programs. 

You could be laying on the couch, half asleep, and answering a question with a hum and they were done for. Even worse at night when you would change, or come fresh out of the shower, hair still dripping, leaving your shirt spotted with wet dots, the fabric getting cold enough to make your nipples hard. It was a curse to witness you walk out into the living room with your shorts showing so much skin. 

And you could see it on their faces, the way their jaws tightened, throats bobbing as they swallowed. You had never seen Kai look so expressionless. Every little thing is pent up inside him, the negative aura radiating off of him as you sit down between them. Even just seeing your bare thigh sent them into the other room. 

A week in is around the time you think they are going to break. Yeonjun coming home from his workout, hair still sweaty and sticking to his forehead as he wraps his arms around you from behind. His soft kisses on your neck as you prepare a cup of tea. “Want one?” 

“No, I'm good,” his hands traveling under and up your shirt. It was the first time since that conversation in the bed that he's put his hands on you in any way besides helping to guide you by the small of your lower back. You melted into his hold, head rolling back, letting him feel over your skin. 

Neither of you hear Kai's feet padding across the apartment's floor. Don't notice him standing right in the doorway until he clears his throat, “so you've given up already?” The accusation sounds more like a warning. It's like he's thrown a bucket of ice water over yeonjun, the realization crushing his forgetfulness. He tugs his hands away from you like you're a hot stove he's gotten too close to. “Jjunie-” 

He doesn't even look up, hand over his eyes as he turns away, “No, I'm going to take a very cold shower,” 

“I'll join!” it's mostly a joke, your giggle making them both scowl. 

“No, stop talking about being naked around me right now,” 

“Why?” you ask, leaning against the counter, tilting your head as he tries to wave away the word. Your smile stuck as he walked away. 

“You're evil,” he tosses over his shoulder leaving you alone with huening. You can feel him standing there watching you. His hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie while he leaned against the door frame. 

“Do you want some?” you ask, pouring a spoonful of honey into your mug. He watches the way it dribbles and sees a dot drop to the counter, your fingers scooping it up and taking it to your mouth. 

He watches you suck the honey off, not even caring that he's right there watching, hands tightening into fists as he thinks about the way your tongue would feel. He thinks he's hiding it well, that you can’t tell he's struggling so much. But he's so obvious, shaking his head and muttering that he's going to bed early. He swears he is never this horny, the two of you have gone well past a few weeks without having sex before and not even thinking much about it. Only now it’s all he can think about and it's making him feel sick, his stomach tightening every time he sees you in a room, like at any moment it won't be him you go to first to ask to get off. 

Never has he been so jealous in his life, not even about yeonjun for kissing you but over your own fingers. Even if you caved and asked yeonjun to be the one to take care of you he wouldn't mind, he'd give up without question, but the idea that you can just walk around and sit with your own hand down your pants was what was killing him. 

He could see it in his head, could picture that time you were struggling to get off with tears in your eyes, how he helped you just like you needed, yeonjun over the phone telling him to take care of you. He wanted that, he needed that. He wanted to help you again, he wanted you to help him, and yet he also wanted to last longer than yeonjun. 

But you had had enough of watching the two of them being so avoidant. Feeling plagued by kai’s mood and yeonjun absence over something so stupid was annoying. Not caring about your tea you followed after Kai. He was already climbing onto the bed, curling up away from your side, arms crossed and eyes closed as you hopped in after him. 

He doesn't acknowledge you are there even when you sneak your arms under him, wrapping him up and being the big spoon behind him. You press your face into his neck, breathing in his comforting smell, humming right against his ear. 

“Hyuka?” it's rare you use the nickname, only when you really want something, kai associating it the most with your desperate calls for him to touch you. You can feel his body tightening, your leg raising to lay on top of his, tugging him even closer to you. “You're so tense,” Your hand on his stomach rubs in soft circles over the fabric of his hoodie, his breath hitching every time you pass over the waistband of his sweatpants. “You know I could help with that,” 

Kai pulls himself away from you, all the way off the bed as you roll on your back. The little smile on your lips eating him alive. He was hard, painfully so, watching you there softly roll your hips, beckoning him. He can hear the sound of the shower, the beating water, the only other noise in the room, the light under the door fanning out around the floor. He watched you sit up on your knees, right at the edge of the bed, hands reaching out to tug him closer to you. 

He let it happen, caved, and leaned down to rest his forehead on yours, eyes pinched closed as he muttered, “You're Killing me,” he could feel your smile when you kissed him, arms wrapping around his neck. 

You had him right where you wanted him, his whimpers between kisses only pushing you on, pulling him back to the bed. He didn't say anything as he laid back against the headboard, your legs straddling him, and your hands already pulling off his top. “I shouldn't-” 

“I won't tell,” you say in between kisses, his erection pressed into your thigh. “We can be quick, yeonjun won't even have to know,” 

“He’ll know,” kai’s not even trying to keep it down, his soft whimpers leaving every time he rolls his hips to try and gain friction against your leg. “And I won't stop after just once, I don't think it will be enough,” 

Both of you jump at the sound of yeonjuns voice, “What is this? My girlfriend in bed with another man?” Neither of you had even heard the water turn off, the steam still wafting out of the bathroom behind yeonjun as he rubbed a towel against his wet hair. 

“Oh no Huening, I think my boyfriend caught us,” sometimes the three of you liked to joke like this, poking fun at the idea of what others thought about your relationship. But Kai wasn't in the mood. He wrapped his arms around you, flipping you over so you were on your back and he was on top pushing you into the mattress. 

“My girlfriend, my bed. I want first,” he leaves no room for argument, his mouth back on your neck, hips grinding into yours. 

“Giving up so early already Huening, I knew you couldn't last,” yeonjun tisks, he sits back in his chair in the corner of the room, his favorite view for moments like this. His towel is draped across his bare shoulders, arms crossed as he looks right at you. “And you, I'm sure you teased him into it,” 

“no, I’d never do something like that,” 

“Liar,” they both say at the same time, kai’s face pressed against your neck, hot mouth working down your throat. You wrap your legs around him pushing him closer, his breathy whimpers right in your ear. Twisting your fingers into kai's hair you pull on the strands, your smile eating yeonjun alive. He could tell himself he wouldn't cave but he knows it's a slim chance when he sees you like this with huening. 

Not when he watches the way your lips fall open when kai pushes into you, the sweet little sounds you're making leaves him hard in seconds. It's worse now too because you're looking at him like you know exactly what he's thinking. And you do know, it's not too hard to guess as he leans back with his arms crossed, knuckles turning white as he readjusts in his seat to try and find some kind of relief. 

Kai didn't even feel the need to strip you, pushing your panties to the side and not worrying about preparing you. The guttural moan he released when he was fully seated inside you reverberated against your whole body. He was a mess of whimpers, arms wrapping around you pulling you as close as he could, shallow thrusts in apology for ever denying himself from you. “Never again- I won't- I can't-”  he's trying to get the words out, broken moans filtering through each breath he takes. 

“He can't even talk, and I'm not even going to judge because if it's anything like how I remember I'd be just as bad,” yeonjun mutters, his jaw so tight he hardly opens his mouth to say it. 

“Jjunie,” you moan, tugging kais hair as his hips stutter against yours, “don't you want to cum for me?”  

Kai won't last hearing the word come from your mouth, every thrust just making you wetter, your warmth pulling him in. He's surprised he even lasted this long before he felt his first orgasm. If it wasn’t for the way he starts to tremble you wouldn't have noticed that he has cum already, not when he doesn’t pull out, doesn’t even slow down. 

“Don't give me that look,” yeonjun warns, but it is not like you can help it when kai is pulling one of your legs up by the back of your knee, his hips sinking deeper, your eyes rolling back at the new depth. 

Yeonjun doesn't even notice how his own hips are moving, leaning back just enough in his chair so that each roll gives him the just right amount of friction against his oversized sweatpants. He's trying not to make it obvious just how hard he is but he's finding it harder and harder to keep his hands off himself and away from you when the headboard starts to creek against the wall. 

Huenings lets out a mix of grunts and whimpers, his cum making you so much easier to slip in and out of, the soft slapping sound of his thighs against yours drowning out any other thought in his mind. “Look at me,” he's gasping, pulling back just enough so that his hand not holding your leg can grasp the headboard, softening the sound for only a second before the bed is back to squeaking. 

You don't deny him, his hair hanging around his eyes, mouth open as he feels the first tingle of overstimulation, thin silver chain necklace dangling just above your chin. His knees are digging into the mattress, the angle pushing him so much deeper. You reach down with one hand to rub on your clit, the other scratching at the back of his neck. 

He's finding it hard to keep his eyes open as he tried not to cum again, “God you look so pretty like this,” 

“Did you miss me?” 

“Fuck yes, I missed this- I missed your pussy so- so much,” he trails off in a whimper, head tossed back exposing his throat to you. 

Your orgasm is so close, aided by all of his desperate sounds. When all of his little ‘ah-ah’s’ get close together you feel yourself tip over the edge. Kai can’t handle the way you clench around him, the both of you are so wrapped up in each other that you don't notice the way yeonjun has to close his eyes. He's begging and praying that he could be stronger than he is but this is too much for him. 

Worst still is how you look over at him at just the last second, a taunt caught right in your creased brow. He can't even take the pressure of his pants anymore, he tugs them down, cock hitting his stomach, heavy and aching. It does little to cure him of this need. 

Kai lets go of the headboard, arms pulling you closer as he peppers your face in kisses, his happy giggle pressed right to your pulse. “Do you feel better?” 

“So much,” he sighs, “I don't even care about losing anymore I just wanted- no I needed you so bad,”

“You know who else needs to forget the stupid bet?” your eyes are trained on the way yeonjun is trying and failing not to move his hips. Every micro-movement brushing his red tip against his skin gives the smallest amount of relief but not enough. 

“Don't talk like I'm not right here,” his eyes are closed, fingers leaving imprints on his biceps. 

“You should help him,” Kai continues, nose sliding down your cheek before he gives a soft kiss to the edge of your mouth. He pulls away, leaning back on his heels as he pulls out of you, quick to move your panties into place to catch any of your combined release in place to not spill on the sheets. 

Standing on shaking legs you stand, stumbling until yeonjun pulls you on top of him. He's groaning as soon as you straddle him, his hands on your hips like a vise. “Why torture me?” 

“No one said you had to watch, I was content with not letting you know but you sat down and didn't look away,” your nails lightly scratch over his chest, his humming response matches the subtle way he's trying to grind up into your clothed clit, panties wet and warm against him. 

“I'll just put it in, I won't even move, I just- I need something,” it's like he's asking permission, wondering if this will mean he's failed, if you'll tell on him. Huening chuckles from the bed, knowing the truth because the second yeonjun slips in he won't be able to help himself. 

“Okay, I won't move either,” you slip your hand down to pull your underwear to the side, the dribbles of your slick and kais cum leak all over. Dripping onto yeonjuns veiny cock and stomach. You try to wipe it away, your fingers on him making his ads flex, cock jumping when you put your fingers to your mouth, sucking away the saltiness. You barely get your fingers away from your mouth before yeonjuns kiss you. His favorite taste is you mixed with cum. 

When you sink down on him both of you moan, the sound caught right in the back of your throat, his eyes squeezed tight as he tries not to thrust up into you. He's devastated to find that you feel even better than he remembered, his hold on your hips almost bruising as you clench around him.  

“This was a horrible idea,” he’s gasping, “oh shit- i-,” he's cut off by your first attempt at moving up and down. “No, don’t, I won't be able to last-” 

“But jjunie-” you whine, hand pushing into your lower stomach, right over where you can feel him pressing so deep into you. “I wanna cum again,” 

“She's so greedy,” Kai adds, your hips rocking back and forth enough to leave yeonjun speechless. 

Clit grinding onto his pelvis, you don't even care about bouncing anymore, the perfect friction to get you off, the tip of his cock pressed right against your g-spot bumping over and over with each movement of your hips. “You're going to have to get off, I can't lose- I won't-” 

But it's not like he's letting you get off of him, he's actively helping you grind down on him, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, “faster-” he's moaning, your hands on his shoulders for leverage before you're falling apart, your toes curling, every noise pressed right to his ear. The way your walls are fluttering around him makes his balls tighten, “I just won'tcum I just won't- I won't - I- fuck -oh fuuuckk,” He's not even stopping now, thrusting up into you to ride out his high, shoving all his cum as far as he can get it, not worried anymore when it feels this good. 

“You're the worst,” yeonjun chuckles after the two of you have caught your breath, “I love you so much, but actually you're evil and I love it,” 

“It's not my fault you couldn't help yourself, I told you it was stupid,” 

“I just won't tell anyone this happened,” he shrugs but kai laughs from the bed. 

“I already told everyone you lost,”

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[feminist-space]

"Joy Spence, 21, said she visited emergency departments at two hospitals in St. John's over the course of nearly two weeks this May.

What began as weakness and abdominal pain on her right side quickly deteriorated into blacking out from the agony in her torso.

But no matter how dire her symptoms got, doctors kept sending her home.

"They would just tell me, 'Your bloodwork's normal, there's nothing we can do.' They would send me home, then same thing again," she said. "I would go back again. They would get me to do the bloodwork, say everything's normal."

Ultrasound and CT scans apparently turned up nothing, but Spence, in such severe pain, says she had no option but to keep returning to the hospital, where she says she was eventually left screaming in a waiting room, ignored by hospital staff.

"If somebody doesn't help me, I'm going to die," she recalls wailing, watching doctors and nurses pass her by.

At one point, she was dismissed outright by a walk-in clinic nurse, she adds.

"Somebody said to me, 'I don't know what you expect me to do,'" she said. "'You're a healthy 21-year-old young female.'"

One night, she says, her boyfriend had to help her into an ambulance. Spence was in so much pain she couldn't stay conscious and stand on her own.

"I remember the man in the ambulance telling me … how often he sees other young women going into the hospital and seeing them be misdiagnosed and not taken seriously," she said, speaking through tears.

"He said that he would do his best to … get things going for me."

Spence says she went to an ER at the Health Sciences Centre or St. Clare's Mercy Hospital about 10 times over a 12-day period, beginning on May 21. She also visited her family doctor, who could do little except tell her to speak directly to the surgeon at Health Sciences Centre, she said.

Each time she saw a doctor, she says, she was sent home and told to dance around her living room or do yoga to cure what physicians believed was anxiety or sluggish bowels.

"I had so many laxatives," Spence recalls. "I would tell them … nothing's even coming out anymore. It's not just this, I don't think. But no, they were dead set on the constipation and only constipation. Like, it can only be that."

...

Spence says doctors only began to take her seriously once she began vomiting in a Health Sciences Centre hallway. The contents of her stomach were green and black.

An older doctor walking past her happened to notice, stopping in his tracks. Spence says he immediately identified the issue as appendicitis.

At that doctor's urging, Spence was finally wheeled into an operating room, where she says her burst appendix — now gangrenous — was removed.

"I think when I walked into the room and they seen a 21-year-old young girl, they immediately dismissed me and thought that there couldn't be anything wrong with me," Spence said.

"I was not on their minds and not on their radar. And if they didn't have that preconceived idea of me, those thoughts wouldn't have been formed and maybe I would have gotten the proper care that I should have."

...

Spence is still struggling to recover from her ordeal. Physically, she's now fine: her appendix was removed and her stitches have healed.

But she's lost an alarming amount of weight, she says, wakes up gasping in the middle of the night and can't stop herself from crying whenever she remembers the hospital.

"I've been losing a lot of hair," she said. "Mentally, it's just been a struggle."

Spence only received an apology from the health authority after CBC News requested comment and confirmed that Spence had done an interview — a move she says felt hollow and frustrating, since the manager who called her didn't give her an explanation about why she was repeatedly ignored while waiting to be admitted.

The ripple effect from her illness, and how she says she was treated when seeking care, has uprooted her life. She's taken a year off her studies in Memorial University's social work program and has lost her job. She's looking for trauma therapy, but now doesn't have the money to pay for it, she says.

"I think as young women we're always told what we're supposed to do, how we're supposed to think, and not to trust our instincts," she said.

"But most of the time … the gut instinct is right. I knew I was sick. I knew what was happening wasn't right, and I could have died if I didn't keep going back to the hospital.

"If I had listened to those doctors and went back home — what could have really happened?""

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - III"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Drugging, Attempted Kidnapping, Stalking

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

No, no. Not happening. Never.

You need money. But you won’t get it through unscrupulous means. You still have your morals, and you’ll abide by them. That’s why you saved Kylar. That’s why you’d save him again, should it happen in the future.

You push the thought out of your mind and exit the temple. As you pass by Danube Street, a thought hits you. 

The spa. Why haven’t you been working at the spa? 

It’s not really an early-game option due to the stat checks required, but those shouldn’t be a problem for you. With your hand skill at C by default and your beauty over the max, working as a masseur is as simple as walking up and asking for work. 

You head over and ask for work, and the lady at the front desk takes one look at your hands and gasps. Her bored demeanor quickly melts away into an excited one as she quickly shows you the ropes. You get the basics down pretty quickly and soon take your first client, a trim woman who looks to be in her early 30s.

“Hello, I’ve not done this before. Do I just lie down?” That makes two of us, you think to yourself. 

“That’s right! Just lie down, and I’ll take care of the rest,” you say, smiling. The trim woman seems reassured and quickly lies down on the table. You get to work on her shoulders and neck first, cautiously looking for knots and tension as you knead her muscles. The woman relaxes under your touch and begins to make small talk. She tells you about her family, how her kids are both bright young boys, and her husband brings her flowers every month. She seems really happy. -Trauma -Stress

She leaves you a tip. You make £75. 

Your next client is less friendly, but you manage to massage her without incident. She leaves you a tip. You make £80 and decide to take a break, feeling a little worn out from standing on your feet for nearly two hours straight. After fifteen minutes, you get up and head back into the spa, where you take on another two clients. They both leave tips, and you make £120. The spa closes after that, and you head outside. 

Someone throws a water balloon at you from a nearby car, soaking your shirt and leaving it near-invisible. You hear cheers as they speed away, leaving you soaked out in the open. +Stress

You look around, but luckily, no one is around to see your predicament. You cover yourself with your arms as best as you can and head home. You take the alleys to avoid passersby seeing you, walking quickly in hopes of getting home sooner. You don’t watch where you’re going and end up walking right into someone. 

“Watch where you’re going, you—!” You look up, about to apologize, when you see icy blue eyes staring back at you. It’s Whitney, his face, only inches from yours, changes from anger to a smug smile.”Well, what do we have here? A slut all out on her own?” Whitney’s friends giggle. 

“Why is she walking around so exposed?” One delinquent asks. “Is she a pervert?” They giggle, crowding around you.

“I wanna get a picture!” Soon, all the delinquents are pulling out their phones. Suddenly torn between the desire to cover your face and your chest, you end up hiding behind the thing closest to you, which ends up being Whitney. He seems taken aback but soon wraps an arm around you protectively. +Love

“Fuck off,” he says, arm still around your waist. “Get your own slut.” The others seem disappointed but comply regardless. When everyone’s phone has been put away, Whitney releases you and shrugs off his jacket. 

“Can’t fuck a sick person,” he says, throwing his jacket over you. “Make sure to give it back. Now fuck off.” He shoves you out of the alleyway, leaving you stunned. Did that really just happen? 

You check your phone.

Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you.       Fascination: 50% Love: 5% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40%       Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100% 

You walk home with his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. It smells like smoke.

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £729 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

After waking up and finishing your morning routine, you go to Robin’s room and play video games with him for an hour. Some of the games remind you of those you used to play back home. +Love -Trauma +Stress 

“It’s almost time for school,” he says. “Do you want to come with me?” You smile and nod. Robin stands up from the bed and puts his controller away. He holds the door open for you as you leave, and you notice a faint blush on his cheeks as you pass. You swear you saw him glance down. +Lust

You’re suddenly reminded that you’re in a yandere game and that Robin is a target character. ++Stress

You grimace as you round a corner and resist the urge to cover your butt as Robin walks behind you. Your skirt is so short he can probably see your underwear as you walk. +++Stress

You see Bailey holding a mousy girl by the arms, a bundle of rope in his other hand. 

“You owe me £200 this week,” he says. The girl is holding back tears but still manages to keep a strong look about her. Robin looks away. The other orphans do the same. They all look…resigned. You step forward. 

“I’ll pay,” you say. “Let her go.” Bailey raises an eyebrow but releases the girl. You hand over the £200 without fuss. It’s only after parting with the money that you remember you could have just pepper-sprayed him and gained some catharsis. You don’t really need to be stingy with it, after all. Bailey counts the money and leaves, leaving the mousy girl to dust herself off.

“Thank you,” the mousy girl says. “I was really scared.” 

“Will you be okay?” You ask her. She nods. She seems genuinely okay. 

“Yes, thanks to you. I promise I’ll pay you back for this,” she says, running off. 

“You don’t have to!” You call out after her, but she’s already gone. 

You did a good thing today. -Trauma -Stress

“That was really impressive,” Robin says. “It’s not often people stand up to Bailey.” You shrug, and Robin cracks a smile. +Love

You and Robin chat on the way to school, mostly about the games you played earlier. There’s a certain glint in his eyes when he looks at you that wasn’t there before. You have to suppress a shiver every time you accidentally meet his gaze. +Stress

“I just don’t understand why they’d make a tutorial so difficult,” Robin says, shaking his head. “Maybe-” He’s cut off by something, eyes widening. You follow his gaze and see two hooded figures approaching rapidly from the alleyway you just passed. You reach for your pepper spray as the figures get closer, unhooking it from its keychain and holding it at the ready. 

“It’s her,” one says. You waste no time and spray them both, then grab Robin’s arm and sprint to safety with him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Crime (Assault) +Stress +Fatigue

You don’t stop running until you reach the school gates and are safely behind them. You and Robin pant heavily as you struggle to come down from the adrenaline. 

“Where did you get that?!” Robin whisper-yells. 

“A kid in my English class makes them,” you say at a normal volume. Robin’s look of concern only grows, and he spends a few minutes lecturing you on the dangers and illegalities of pepper spray. You mostly tune him out. 

The bell rings, finally putting an end to Robin’s monologue, and you head to class. You focus on the lesson, and Sirris calls you up to the front of the class. A student uses a ruler to flash your panties to everyone. To make matters worse, Sirris wanted you to undress for the demonstration. You comply, feeling humiliated as the class leers at your body. +++Stress

The bell rings, and you rush out of the classroom. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you walk. Your ears are ringing, your heartbeat is too loud, the world is spinning, and—

It’s all too much for you. You pass out. 

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You wake up with something soft yet firm under your head and Sydney right above you. 

“You’re awake!” He says. “I was worried. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I brought you back to the library.” “Not the nurse?” You say, getting up. You realize that you’ve been lying on Sydney’s lap. Sydney looks sheepish. 

“I didn’t think of that,” he says, not meeting your gaze. He looks genuine, but you get the feeling he’s not being honest. +Awareness 

Sydney insists you stay with him for another ten minutes so he can monitor your condition. When you ask about going to the nurse again he makes an excuse of not knowing if you’re good to walk. You decide not to push it any further and spend the next ten minutes chatting with Sydney. When the ten minutes are up, he looks hesitant to let you go but relents regardless. +Love +Lust -Sydney’s purity

By the time you leave, it’s already lunch. You missed two classes. ++Deliquency

Feeling stressed from everything, you decide to sit alone in hopes of relaxing. You should have known better, however, as a group of students soon come by to make your day harder. The second they start jeering at you, you unhook your pepper spray and blast them all in the face. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status

The students are screaming and hurling insults, but the ringing in your ears makes it impossible to hear them. You finish your lunch in silence. 

You spend the rest of school zoning out, hoping your stress will subside. It works, kind of. 

You have detention, but you don’t feel like going. Considering all the shit you pulled today, Leighton is probably going to take off your clothes and smack you or something. You don’t have good enough grades to know where the tunnel from school is, so you walk out the front. Leighton tries to stop you, but you pepper spray him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status 

A group of students say they’re going to the lake. You could use a change of scenery. You join them. +Status

Hanging out at the lake is fun enough. No one tries to grope you after what happened at lunch, so you end up having a somewhat enjoyable time. 

Then they start bullying another student, who thankfully isn’t here to listen to them shit-talking them, and what little fun you were having quickly melts away. You stand up and walk away, deciding to go for a swim instead. You think about retrieving the lichen for your science project but push the thought out of your mind. 

You swim for about an hour, and when you exit the water, the sun is already beginning to set. Your fellow classmates are still hanging out, but you don’t really feel like joining them, so you put on your clothes and go for a walk, planning to head back after you’re done.

You hear a bullet firing from afar. Something is hunting you.

Fuck. You whip around, trying to locate the source of the bullet. You heard it shoot from behind you, but you don’t see anyone. Going back the way you came might mean running straight into their arms. You glance around one last time, but a second gunshot has you running on your feet in no time.

You dash through the woods, not bothering to look behind you as the gun fires off in the near distance. You don’t think they’re shooting at you, and running zig-zag like you were taught as a kid just means slowing down. So, you run straight ahead with no clear plan in mind. You unhook your pepper spray again (you should probably thank Kylar), just in case, but you don’t know how much good it will do in a gunfight. Still, something is better than nothing, so you hold onto it, keeping it close to your chest as you run, run, run.

Your foot hits something strange and loses balance. You don’t even have time to process it until you’re lifted upside-down by your heel, face to inverted face with a plant person. 

“I caught one!” The plant girl exclaims. “This one’s wearing lacey panties!” You spray her, and she falls, her vines releasing you instantly. It’s only when you see sap pouring out from a hole on the side of her head that you hear the gunshot and realize it wasn’t you that took her down.

“Got you,” Eden says, a hand on your shoulder. You try to turn around, but the second you move, you’re on the ground, nose pressed into the soil, and arms pinned behind you in a painful grip. You feel your pepper spray being torn from your hand and thrown next to a bush. 

Shit. Shit!

He’s got you in a submission hold. There’s nothing you can do but go along with it and wait for an opportunity. It takes everything in you not to thrash and scream against his hold, but you know that would only make things worse. Eden runs his hand down your back, stopping when he gets to the hem of your skirt. He flips it up, taking a moment to admire it before giving it a light slap. You jump when he hits you, though it’s more about the surprise than the pain.

“You’re hurting me!” You cry, trying your best to sound helpless. “Please let go!” You weakly struggle against his grip for good measure. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, voice gruff. “Can’t do that. You’ll run away.” 

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Please, please, let me go!” You wiggle around, pretending this is as much strength as you can muster up. Eden leans down and studies your expression for a moment. You can feel the outline of his cock on your back as he leans down to look at you. The scrutiny in such a position is near-unbearable, but he releases you without a word. 

You force yourself to be still for a moment, not to do anything that would alert him. Then, slowly, you turn around and, mustering up every bit of courage you have, lean up and kiss him. He seems taken aback but soon reciprocates the gesture. You press into him, stroking and massaging his skin as you cautiously lean him back into a more desirable position. 

Though it costs you your dignity, you’re eventually able to get on top of him, grinding against him through his pants as you lower him to the ground. When you’ve got him completely below you, and you’re straddling his hips, you break the kiss and pull yourself up. 

“I think it's time we get rid of these,” you say, grabbing your panties and lifting your hips, then swaying them suggestively. You shift your weight to one knee and lift your other leg up, then, in a sudden, adrenaline-charged burst of speed, you throw yourself off of him and stagger to your feet. You kick him in the crotch and run towards the bush where your pepper spray landed. 

Eden catches your foot, and you nosedive towards the ground. You fall, but pepper spray is just within reach. You grab it and go limp. Eden drags your body closer to his, and you use it as an opportunity to spray him. He grabs his eyes and recoils, and you quickly gather yourself and run back the way you came. 

Your clothes snag on bushes and branches as you run, but you pay it no mind as you force yourself to run. You can’t hear anything but the wind in your ears, so you have no idea if Eden is chasing you or not. 

Silly you, it shouldn’t have been Eden you were worrying about. 

You feel yourself hit the ground before you even register being knocked down. There’s a growling above you and two hands on either side of your body. You twist around, barely even registering the wolf ears and sharp teeth of the man on top of you. You spray him, and he staggers back. You rush to your feet and keep running until you’re safely out of the forest. Your clothes are practically in scraps by the time you’re out, and at this point, you think it’ll be cheaper to just buy new clothes instead of fixing them. 

Then, it hits you. The pain and exhaustion. 

You drop to your knees, suddenly aware of every scratch, scrape, and bruise you acquired while running through the forest, suddenly aware of the strain on your muscles from the fatigue. You stay sitting for a few minutes, waiting for your muscles to stop hurting or for you to stop caring. When you notice the sun is starting to set, you pull yourself up and drag yourself back home, where you run a bath and then go straight to bed. 

—————————

It is Friday, the 9th of September, 2022. -It has been 5 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You are upset Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You get up and check your socials on your phone.

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships:  Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend.              Fascination: 100% Love: 5% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40%         Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Jealousy: 5% Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you.       Fascination: 50% Love: 10% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40% Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100%  Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you.       Fascination: 100% Love: 9% Devotion: 55% Jealousy: 55%        Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted.       Fascination: 70% Love: 8% Devotion: 25% Purity: 20%        Jealousy: 0% Lust: 70%  Avery The Businessman Avery thinks you’re cute.     Fascination: 55% Love: 1% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0%     Dominance: 0% Lust: 30% Rage: 0% Eden The Hunter Eden wants you back.     Fascination: 80% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0%     Dominance: 0% Lust: 100% Black Wolf The Alpha Black Wolf wants to see you again. Reputation:  The police consider you a person of interest, and have enough evidence for an arrest. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 60% Sex: Unknown. Prostitution: Unknown. Rape: Obscure. Beastiality: Unknown. Exhibitionism: Obscure. Pregnancy: Unknown. Combat: Low-key. Kindness: Obscure. Business: Unknown. Socialite: Unknown. Overall: Notorious. The townsfolk call you Darling. Those in the criminal underworld call you Darling.

Your eyes hover over your police reputation. You sigh. You’ll have to visit Landry after school. You throw your covers off of you and climb out of bed, groggily going to your wardrobe. 

Right. Your clothes got torn. You pick up an undamaged skirt and shirt, tossing the tattered garments into the trash. You put on your clothes and pick up your bag, not bothering to stop by Robin’s room this morning. You take a bus to the shopping center, where you do what you should have done on day one: buy clothes that actually cover you. You browse for a few minutes, looking for something as pervert-proof as possible. You settle on a school blouse, shorts, a sports bra, suspenders, and a pair of work boots. 

The shorts provide you protection against people lifting your skirt, the suspenders (which you’ll have to sew on) keep you from being pantsed, the sports bra can’t be unclipped and provides support in case you need to run, and the work boots will help you keep your footing when you need to go to the moor or the woods. 

You buy what you’re wearing as well as a few backups of the shorts and shirt, totaling £215. You pay and leave, arriving at school just in time for your science class. Today’s Friday, so you have a chance to improve your grades if you do well on the tests. 

The lesson pace is a little different from usual. It’s just a review of everything you’ve learned this week. Nothing new is being covered, so you don’t bother to take notes. Not that you’ve had any time to study your notes since coming here.

The test is easy enough, despite your terrible study habits, and you manage to improve your grade to a D. -Stress

The rest of the day continues similarly, and soon you have D’s all across the board. --Stress

You go to the pub after school, looking around for a thin man or woman with black hair and a grey sweater. You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn your head. It’s a tall man you’ve never seen before. He’s covered in tattoos.

“You’ve been busy,” he says, booze on his breath. “Don’t think I don’t recognize you. You’re the talk of the town. Bit surprising not seeing you being fucked raw, though.” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “I reckon it’s time I got my slice of the pie. You like it rough, right? That’s what I’ve heard. Come ‘ere, sweetheart.” 

“Am I interrupting?” You hear a man’s voice, and the tall man’s hand on your shoulder loses it’s grip. You look over to see the face of your savior and realize it’s the very person you were looking for. Your face shifts to one of relief. -Stress

“Yeah,” he says. “Piss off.”

“I recognize you.” 

“You should, I come here more often than I-” 

“March 3rd, 2009. Nightingale Street.” The tall man pales. “So you know what I’m talking about. I wasn’t there myself, but I’ve heard the stories. You were the talk of the town.” 

The tall man stutters. “Y-you’re not with the fuzz. You won’t turn me in.”

“You don’t know that. And either way, we both know you’re not hiding from the police. So how about you let her go, and I won’t tip off the Elk about your latest haunt.” The tall man looks at you, then Landry, then you again. Landry smiles. He throws his hands off of you.

“Fine. Shit, fine. You her lover? You picked a damn slutty one.” Landry waits until the man is out of earshot before turning to you. 

“Come with me,” he says. “I want to talk to you in private.”

“Reputation isn’t always a good thing,” Landry says as you sit down. “Word’s spread about you. You’re notorious. That’s why that drunkard went for you. You remember what he said, right?” 

“I haven’t even done anything,” you say. 

“No, but you’re pretty while doing it,” Landry retorts. “Not hitting on you,” he says. 

“Thanks?” 

“It’s not a good thing. You attract attention wherever you go. Where a normal person might have to fuck a hundred people to start getting known as a slut around town, you’d only have to fuck one.” 

“Oh,” you say, slinking in your seat. “So, what can I do?” 

“I think I can help you,” he pauses. “Well, not me. But I think I know someone. This orphan at the home on Domus Street. A computer whiz. Mickey, or McKay, something like that. Best hope is to find this orphan. If you can get them to come work with me, they’ll be able to hook you up. There’ll be some money in it for you, too. Just don’t step on Bailey’s toes.” You nod. 

“Thank you,” you say. Landry smiles.

“There’s another thing, too,” he says. “I’ll be frank. I know you need money. Don’t ask me how I know, word gets around. I think I can help you. If you come across any jewelry or other items you don’t know what to do with, I can take them off your hands. I’ll pay well.” He looks over your shoulder. “As well as can be expected, anyway.” 

“Can you help me get the police off my trail?”

“I can help you,” he says, reclining. “But I need you to do something for me. And no, it’s not about money. I was expecting a package, but it never arrived. Good thing I know where to find it, it had a GPS tracker. It got lost somewhere deep in the moor. Get it for me, and I’ll prevent any of your past misdemeanors being pinned on you. It’s a small black box.” You nod and stand. 

“Oh, and do be careful,” Landry says. “I don’t believe the tales of monsters, but there’s a sensible reason behind some superstitions.” 

You’re already wearing work boots, but you want to wear something that you can afford to tear, too. Preferably something resistant that can protect you. But you don’t have the money for that, so you head back to the orphanage and wear the only other outfit you have, a sundress. You put your pepper spray keychain on your bookbag and take it with you, hoping you won’t run out during this trip. 

After double checking everything is in order, you leave the orphanage and begin to make the long trek to the moor. 

Several people attempt to pick you up along the way. By which you mean literally every person who passes by you has slowed down to talk and ask where you’re headed. Not willing to risk anything, you turn them all down, running when they get too persistent. By the time you finally make it to the farmlands, you’re exhausted. So you sit down near the entrance to rest, knowing you’ll need your energy for the moor. 

“You alright there?” Someone asks. You look up to see a suntanned boy under a straw hat, looking concerned. He looks around your age, with red hair and a boyish appearance. He must be Alex, you realize.

“It was just a really long walk to get here,” you admit sheepishly. 

“You walked all the way from town?” You nod. “Well, Jesus! No wonder you’re so tired. Come in and get some water, my place isn’t far.” 

“Do you own the farm?” 

“Yeah, I do! It’s a work in progress, but it’s home.” You smile. 

Alex is right, and it doesn’t take long to reach the cottage, where he offers you a glass of water. You thank him and gulp it down. +++Drugged

…Huh?

You stare at your phone. The screen seems to shift.

Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged A lewd warmth fills you Your perception is altered

You look back up to Alex, who’s staring at you with a grin. You stand up but nearly fall. Alex stands with you, his hands on your shoulders. 

“Easy, there,” he says as if you’re a horse that needs to calm down. You shove him off of you and  run, reaching for your pepper spray, but in your altered state, you can’t figure out how to unhook it. 

>Try again (Skullduggery: Impossible) >Rip it off (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

You rip it off, but the fabric holds firm. Alex is close behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

You try again and the fabric doesn’t yield. Alex is right behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

This is taking too long. You spray without unhooking, managing to get Alex, but in your flailing, also manage to spray yourself. +++Pain ++Willpower

You run, you don’t even know where you’re going you just run.

You can’t open your eyes, but you know they wouldn’t be of much help in this state, anyway. You run until you hit what feels like tall grass, then slow. You’re in the moor now. 

You try to quiet your breathing as you listen for anything that may be chasing you or lying in wait. You hear nothing. You go a little further in, just enough to be hidden among the grass and wait. 

Eventually, the pain subsides, and you open your bleary eyes. You still feel unsteady, though, so you wait longer. It takes another forty minutes for you to regain full balance and control of your body. When you do, you trudge deeper into the moor, relying on the map on your phone to guide you to the box. After what feels like two hours of searching, you finally find the box across from some water. 

You grimace as you step in, your shoes and socks instantly soaking with dirty water. The water is about knee-high, so not enough to touch your sundress but just enough to make movement heavily uncomfortable. You hobble over the box, just about to reach it, when you feel something suck you in. 

You look behind you and recognize the thing as a lurker. You waste no time and spray it, freeing yourself and grabbing the box before leaving. 

Of course, nothing is ever that simple, and just as you leave the water, you see a terrible shadow overhead. You look up and notice a harpy in the sky. You are being hunted.

You start to run. Your pursuer approaches rapidly. ++Stress

You run faster, pushing yourself to your limits as you sprint across the moor. But luck is never on your side, and your foot sinks into something as you land. You look down, and it’s a fucking foxhole. Not big enough for you to run through or hide in. You pull yourself out, but it’s too late. 

“Found wife,” he says. You spray him and keep running. That should keep him out of commission for a while. 

Eventually, you feel safe enough to walk the rest of the way out of the moor. You sneak around the farmlands and begin to walk the rest of the way home. You’re too tired to make it very far, however, and soon pass out on the road. You feel yourself being lifted onto a stretcher before passing out again.

You’ve unlocked a fragment.

<Prev Next>

[guppybibi]

Tattoo artist!Johnny who had already met you a year ago when you made an impulsive decision of getting a tattoo with your current boyfriend's name.

This was nothing new for Johnny having seen this numerous times before, in both men and women, and he knows they'll come crawling back to get them covered up after a nasty breakup. It's been a running game in the shop, all of the workers betting their money on how long it'll take before the customer comes back to cover up the tattoo.

Nothing new, right? Then why was Johnny so surprised when he saw you walk into the shop, the door chimes ringing when you swing the door open to reveal you. Eyes still red and puffy while you sniffled, not doing a very good job on hiding the fact you had been crying. His coworkers shot him a knowing look, recalling the bet from last year.

"Pretty thing, ain't she?" One of Johnny's coworkers commented, looking at the back of your figure as you stepped out of the shop with a huge grin on your face. Probably excited to show the tattoo of your boyfriend's name to him.

"Yeah, too bad she's taken. Lucky man better be treatin' her right." Johnny remarks, noticing the look he was given. "Not for long, I bet. I'm giving them a year max." Johnny blinks once, then again. "Fine, I'm giving them five years." Of course, his coworker was pretty shocked from that. Out of all the people they've bet on, this was probably the longest bet Johnny had ever put.

"Seriously? Don't ya think that's too long?" His coworker asks skeptically, raising a brow at Johnny. "Aye, the gal is lovely. If her boyfriend drops her then that's like committing a war crime." Well, his coworker couldn't really disagree with him on that.

Johnny shoots his coworker a glare that simply said he had more important matters to attend to. Luckily, Johnny was a charmer so cooing a birdie like you into comfort shouldn't be that hard, right?

I mean, it's a break up, not exactly the end of the world here. Plus, you're a gorgeous gal, plenty of fish out there you could probably catch in less than an hour.

"Morning, lass! Welcome back, I see that you've got a little problem, huh?" He points out, seeing you nod subtly. "Alright, I'm assuming it's a cover up for the tattoo you got done a year ago?"

He clearly wasn't surprised when you nodded, having seen this too many times before. He wrote down some stuff, not caring about the paperwork much..before leading you further into the parlor.

The two of you discussed how you wanted the previous tattoo to get covered up, Johnny nudging in to suggest some stylistic choices a few times, which you gladly didn't mind.

Then began the process once you agreed with the design choice, you wanted to get this over with. To remove a past mistake from your life.

Johnny cleansed your skin, disinfecting it with a cold gel. He could see you squirming and struggling not to make a sound. He also does notice another tattoo covered up above your previous tattoo, curiosity swirling around in his mind now.

He tried hushing it, it wasn't any of his business. He's here to do his job, nothing else.

He was quiet for most of the process, aside from some rather awkward small talk about the weather and a few details of what happened between you and your boyfriend. Not that it helped, it really just made Johnny even more curious.

And finally, after who knows how long, the tattoo was covered up now! You seemed to have gotten rid of the nerves from earlier, looking a lot more calmer now.

"Alright, lass. I'm sure y'know how the caring process goes so I'll leave it up to ye." He said, cleaning up all his materials in a snap. He gives in to his curiosity, finding the courage in him to ask you about the other covered up tattoo.

"Uh..before you go lass, mind if I ask ye somethin'? It's about the other tattoo you got 'ere.." You immediately knew which one he was referring to, face reddening in embarrassment as you recalled the immature decision..

"Aah..sure, go ahead." You replied awkwardly, a sheepish smile gracing your face. "Thanks, lass. Mind if ye tell me what was written on there? I- I just noticed that the way it was covered up. The artist did a great job, I'm jealous."

Yeah okay he was just making excuses to get things flowing..never mind that.

"Oo..oh! I don't mind at all, don't worry. That's all in the past..can't really reverse it, you know? It was my ex-boyfriend's name." You answer, shrugging it off. Seems like you were the type of gal to move on from a relationship quick.

"I see, glad you were willing to share that. I wonder if I know who he is." He chuckles, evidently not expecting you to actually tell him who it was. Sure, Johnny was the type to encourage people to loosen up and get comfortable. But..maybe not to this extent.

"His name was Simon, Simon Riley—" And practically everything you said after that was unheard of.

Looks like Johnny needs to pay Simon a visit at the pub tonight.

[gabgabwrites]

MOTHER F*CKER | Patrick Zweig

summary ⇝ Patrick is a local mechanic, and when you come it to get your car checked, he’s in love, but when your little baby girl comes into the frame, Patrick can safely say you’re one hot MILF!

warnings ⇝ language, smut! p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink (well duh), daddy kink if you squint, RUSHED ENDING, it’s actually a little cutesy fanfic. mdni

sorry it’s like my shortest fic 🙁

based off this request here!

Patrick is working as a mechanic, and one day you bring your car in because it's been making these weird sounds.

And when you climbed out the vehicle, Patrick thinks you're hot. You're maybe a little bit younger than him but by good heavens he thinks you're in your prime, and when he sees your little girl climb out the car, interested in looking around the shop in childlike wonder, he almost groans.

You must be taken, a mother who's probably married and is that gorgeous? Yep.

He smiles, wiping the grease off his hands and onto the old towel around his neck before approaching you both. "Hey, ladies. What brings you in?" He asks with a kind smile, glancing between the two of you.

You blink up at him and smile, your hand holding your daughters. "Hi, I came in because my car is making funny sounds. I know it's an old car but not that old. Is it fine if you have a look or do I need to book an appointment or...?"

He nods, holding back a little smirk at the sight of you holding your daughter's hand. "Yeah, I could have a look. There might be a bit of a wait though, if you're cool with that." He glances down at your little girl who seems to be distracted by an old car parked off to the side.

You nod. "No, it's fine. Hazel and I will go wait outside." You shrugged, looking down at your carbon copy.

He nods and watches you walk out, keeping his eyes trained on your figure as you go. Once you're through the doors, he turns his attention away from the entrance and over to the car you just brought in, popping the hood and beginning the inspection.

As he works away at your car, he finds himself stealing glances every now and then through the garage doors as your little girl runs around the parking lot.

Watching her make daisy chains out of the weeds while you look over old cars, he can't help but think you're even more beautiful in the natural lighting.

After about 45 minutes, Patrick wipes off the last of the grease and closes the hood. Before heading to the entrance to find you, he takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself a little bit. His eyes stay on the parking lot, keeping watch for you and your daughter.

He finally spots you sitting on the curb, your daughter settled into your lap sound asleep as you quietly hum a tune, running your fingers through her hair. He stood there a few feet away, debating whether he should interrupt you or not.

After a few beats of contemplation, he figures he should go and get you. He starts with a few quiet steps towards you before making enough noise to get your attention.

You look up and smile at him. "Finished?"

He smiles back, nodding as he stops in front of you. "Mhm. You've got a loose alternator cable. And as for the sound, it seems like the problem is with your exhaust."

You frown. "Oh, how long will that take to get fixed?"

He runs a hand over his chin, "If I order the part, it should only take a couple days, hopefully. Do you have a way to get around in the meantime?" He asks, his eyes trained on your sleeping daughter in your arms.

You nibble on your bottom lip. "I can call my sister."

He lets out a soft chuckle, "Or I can give you and your little one a ride home. It looks like you've got your hands full there." He says, nodding towards the girl asleep on your lap.

You glance down at her then back up at him. You didn't really have much of a choice, and he seemed friendly enough.

If need be, you did carry a taser in your bag. "Yes, please? That would be great."

He smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkling just a little bit with it. "Alright. 'll help you to the car." He says, offering his hand to help you up.

You happily took it, feeling his calluses scrape your fingers. He helped you up, his hand slipping away as to not linger too much. He starts a slow pace away from the garage, looking back every few seconds to make sure you're following him.

After passing through the main doors to the lot, he leads you over to a large black pickup truck. Opening the passenger door, he gestures for you to get in, his eyes focused on you.

Once you're settled in, he closes the door behind you. He circles around to the driver's side, keeping an eye on you and your daughter through the windshield as he climbs into the vehicle.

You decide if you should tell this man your address, then again if someone breaks in, you know the name of the company he works at, so you tell him.

He nods, repeating it quietly after you before starting the car. He glances over at your daughter again. "So, how old is she?"

"She just turned two in September." You tell him, with a small smile

He hums quietly, a small smile forming on his own lips. "She's a cutie, got her mama's looks." He says as he begins the drive to your address.

You couldn't help the small chuckle that left your lips. "That she is."

The car falls into a comfortable silence as the drive continues. He watches the road as he drives, stealing the occasional glance at you from out the corner of his eye.

After not too long, he pulls up in front of your house, looking out through the windshield at the small and cozy home.

"Are we here?" He asks, cutting the engine before turning to glance at you again.

You nod. "Yes, thank you so much."

He smiles, unbuckling his seatbelt. "It's no problem." He says, opening the car door and climbing out. He circles around to your side, opening up your door before holding out his hand to help you and your sleeping little girl out.

Once all three of you have exited the car, he closes the passenger door before facing you again. He can't help but be drawn to how soft you look, a warm and content smile on your lips as you hold your sleeping daughter tightly in your arms. Patrick clears his throat. "So, uh, you should tell your husband about your car, wouldn't want him worried, right?"

You blink a couple times, a little startled before you realize what he's insinuating. "Oh," you murmur, a small laugh slipping past your lips. "I actually don't have a husband." You say with a small smile.

He blinks at your confession, the realization slowly settling in. "Oh, really?" He asks, his hand moving up to idly rub the back of his neck. His heart seems to skip a beat when he considers the implications of that sentence.

You nod again. "Yeah, didn't work out, but at least he still tries to look after our daughter."

He nods as he listens, his heart beating a little faster at the knowledge that not only are you absolutely stunning, beautiful, and gorgeous, you're also single. He can faintly feel a blush beginning to travel across his cheeks so he looks away for a second, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

Patrick cleared his throat again, his hand still rubbing the back of his neck as he looks back at you. "You make for an amazing mom though, considering your little girl seems as sweet as they come."

"Thank you, I do try."

He smiles again, his eyes roaming over your figure one more time before nodding towards your front door. "Well, I better let you get inside before it gets late. It was a pleasure meeting you."

You nod. "You too, I'll be back at the shop in a week? It was about a week you said, right? If not, uh, I’ll give you my cell for you to phone when my cars finished."

He nods, feeling a little disappointed to have to wait for you to return to the shop but he doesn't show it, instead continuing to give you a friendly smile.

"Yeah, it'll probably take about a week for the part to get here. Here, let me get my phone. Gimme a sec..." He said, taking a few steps back before digging into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out his phone. He walks back over to you. "Here, just put your number in there, l'll give you a call when the cars done."

You shift your daughter to your one hip while reaching for his phone with your now free hand

He hands it over, watching as you begin to type into his phone with a small smile on his lips. His eyes flit between your own and your little one, who's still fast asleep against your shoulder.

"All done." You smile, handing him back his phone.

He takes it back from you, holding it for a few beats too long before he pockets it again. He can't help but feel a little breathless at your smile, his heart racing a little faster than it should. "Uh, I guess I'll see you in a week then."

And he does. Patrick also was sly, so while he fixed the more serious parts of your car, he'd lightly mess up another, just enough to have you concerned but nothing major, only to see you again in his shop (he charged you 30% of what other customers had to just because of his other alterations)

You start to notice the increase of issues with your car every few months and have to make the frequent trips back to the shop. But the thing that changes is the way the handsome mechanic, Patrick, seems to behave around you. He's a little more sly, a little more cocky and a little more flirty as time goes on. You can't help but notice the change.

And so it was no wonder when you began to get flustered around him, drawn to his flirty remarks and lingering touches.

The way you'd react to his flirting only feeds his ego, driving him a little more wild and crazy each time. The way you'd blush and stutter, trying to keep your cool would only make him want to push your buttons more, to have you flustered and squirming for him.

Eventually, you two started seeing each other, he'd take you on little dates while your sister baby sat, or the three of you would do something altogether.

As your relationship with Patrick grows, he's more and more drawn in by you. He loves spending time with you but seeing vou interact with Hazel and vice versa, seeing how you are as a mother makes him want you in a whole other way.

Was it too quick for Patrick to want to put a ring on your finger? Yes. But you two weren't getting younger.

He knew he was moving a little fast but he can't help it. You make him crazy, make him want things he hasn't dared to think about for too long while staring at your lips, your neck, your wrists... he was gonna marry you if it was the last thing he ever did.

He eventually moved in (bills were equally split). He's living in your home, sharing your bed, your shower, your kitchen. And he could honestly say he's never been so happy. He's got a beautiful fiancé who's also the most caring, perfect woman he's ever met. It almost makes his life perfect.

Almost.

Except now he needs to claim you. Mark you as his. So it's no wonder when he has you on all fours, arched back and sobbing while you're taking his cock, relentlessly bullying your cunt. "Shh-h-h, ma. Don't wanna wake Hazel up, do you?" He asks, pulling at your hair and feeling you clamp around him.

Your little girl is asleep in the other room, and Patrick knows you're trying your hardest to keep quiet so as not to disturb her. But he doesn't want to make it easy for you. He grips your hip a little tighter with one hand while the other starts moving along your back, feeling every inch of your skin under his fingers.

His pace picks up, his eyes never leaving your body as his gaze travels over your arching figure. "You sound so good, ma. Trying really hard to keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet while I breed this cunt. Gonna knock you up nice. Don't you wanna make me a daddy?"

The mention of getting you pregnant has your stomach in knots. You can't help but whimper, your brain trying to come up with a coherent answer. "Y-Yes! Wanna to make you a daddy real bad."

His hand moves down your body, resting on the soft flesh of your stomach. "Yeah, ma? You want me to fill you up? Get you pregnant with our baby?" He asks, his voice a little rougher than before.

You moan, feeling your heart and pussy flutter. "Fuck, yes. Need to...to..."

"Need to what? Need to take my cum in your sweet, needy little hole? Need to have me fill you up until you're leaking? Want me to breed you real good? I'll do it. I'm gonna fill you up so good, you'd never forget who your daddy is."

Your heart hammers against your chest, his words making a knot tighten in your gut as a shiver runs up your spine. "Yes, please, need you to, want you to fill me up!"

"Want to have my baby?" He asks, giving your hips a light little smack. "Want me to knock you up nice and good?" You could only nod, feeling your lower belly stir. Feeling you nod eagerly has him groaning quietly. "You're gonna look so damn pretty pregnant, ma." He growls, his fingers gripping you a bit tighter like he was holding onto you for dear life.

You could feel his hips stutter.

"Gonna be so sweet on you, ma. I'll spoil you so damn much. My sweet little wife, all filled up with my baby. I...oh." He moans, his pace becoming a bit less steady as his fingers flex on your hips.

You felt him spill inside you, never feeling as full as you did. That feeling alone pushed you to your own orgasm.

Patrick held you against him while you trembled through your own release, his eyes watching your body shaking under his touch. His breath felt heavy, his own heartbeat a little too fast as he watched you. His hand slid up your back, coming to a rest between your shoulder blades before his lips made contact with your skin, leaving a soft kiss there. "Think it worked?" He asks quietly.

"There's only one way to find out..." You said through a grin, voice breathless.

He lets out a small chuckle, his lips moving over to your neck. "Guess we'll have to try and try again until it does." He murmurs before nipping your skin gently.

You anchored yourself into the bed, preparing for a long night ahead of you when a high-pitched voice called out for you.

"Mama!"

Just a few words was all it took to have reality setting in. The two of you freeze, your heart beating a little faster as the realization of what you were doing just a moment ago dawns on you. Patrick slowly pulls back, sitting up and away from you on the bed, his eyes glancing at the door.

"Well, duty calls." You mumble, standing up on wobbly legs to grab your gown and wrapping it around yourself.

He watches you get up after a few beats, admiring the sight of you in your gown before he slowly gets up himself, grabbing the pair of boxers he laid on the bed only a few hours before. Once you're both decent, he opens the door for you so you can go to your daughter.

Hazel's in her bed, her big eyes staring up at the ceiling and her tiny hands grasping a handful of her blanket. She turns her head towards you when she hears you walk in. "Mama? Thirsty."

You felt your bottom eyelid twitch, but nonetheless you smiled. "Okay, baby. I'll go get you some water."

She gave you a small nod and a sleepy smile while you made a mental note to remind her that she's not supposed to get out of bed whenever she's thirsty.

You were about to exit the room when you heard her tiny voice once more.

"Mama?" You turned back around to her. She looked at you with those big, innocent eyes of hers. "Read me a story, please?" She asks quietly.

You let out a soft sigh. "Okay, my angel. I'll go get you water while you pick out a book."

Her face immediately lights up at your answer, a smile stretching across her lips and revealing her missing two front teeth. "Okay!" She eagerly responds before crawling over to dig through the pile of books on the floor next to her bed.

You can't help but shake your head at her eagerness to always have a bedtime story as you leave her room and close the door behind you. Once you're in the hallway, you glance towards the bedroom you and Patrick share, and find him sitting on the bed, a bemused look on his face.

"Wait until it's your own child calling for their dad." You told him with a pointed look before turning and disappearing to the kitchen.

Patrick just lets out a quiet chuckle, he can't wait for that day to come. He grins to himself as he leans back against the pillows behind him, his mind filled with the idea of a miniature version of you or him or both calling him 'Dad'.

The thought alone has his heart clenching a little.

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Boys in Bars

A/N: Hi Babes! :D So uhh….me again with the never say never....this one's a love I've had for...20 odd years and comes clad in yellow spandex....

Another one that was meant to live in the WIP and has taken on a life of its own...

I didn't tell @ken-dom this one was being shared, so she's probably gonna lose it....Sorry xD love you big much.

She’s still been mad encouraging and I love her dearly for it. Without her none of these would exist much like everything I've written over the last year and a half.

As always, this NSFW 18+ (Not yet but like...it's getting there ok?)

I wasn't gonna share it today, but with the digital DP&W release I felt I should and @coggedcorset aggressively encouraged as they do <3

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots…..so yeah, this will be multiple parts….I’m just not sure on the final tally yet.

Enjoy my loves! <3 

You sighed glancing down the length of the bar; Logan sat there, like he did every other night of the week. Silent and unmoving, save for occasionally reaching for the half empty bottle sat on the bar top. 

Usually he minded his own business, and no one else paid him any mind…usually…the bar wasn’t particularly busy tonight, and you were bored. 

You made your way down the bar on the opposite side, stopping where he sat. He glanced up, his brown eyes meeting yours for a brief second before they dropped again to examine a particularly interesting knick in the polished wood of the bar. 

“You should eat something” 

“No��� he spoke into the bartop and you rolled your eyes

“Mmm good, just going to destroy your liver twice as fast tonight, got it” 

You reached for the near empty bottle and his hand snapped out with lightning speed, the hint of his metal claws poking out between his knuckles; his fingers warm against the back of your hand…too warm thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol running through his system. 

“Leave it” he nearly growled. 

“What are you going to do, cut off my fingers?” you rolled your eyes pulling the bottle out of his reach. “You’re done” 

He snorted with a laugh “Am I?” claws retracting back under his skin 

You ignored him, dropping the bottle back in the well “The spare bed is still made up upstairs if you’re interested” 

“Are you giving me an option?” he quipped as you walked around the other end of the bar, going to lock the door and flip the sign to ‘CLOSED’ 

“Sure,” you smiled sweetly and he cocked an eyebrow “The couch is a little small, but I guess curled up on the floor is an option too” 

He barked a laugh, louder than necessary, but given how much he had had to drink you were shocked he was coherent at all. 

You flipped off the lights and the bar was cloaked in darkness, moonlight streaming in through the door and windows, giving you enough light to navigate back to where Logan still sat. 

He sat up straighter as you came to stand over his shoulder, but made no move to stand. You wrapped an arm around his torso, draping a muscled arm around your shoulders as you heaved him to his feet; this hadn’t been the first time and sadly you didn’t think it would be the last either. The two of you had gotten into a bit of a routine since you had started working here regularly. He leaned heavily against your comparatively tiny frame as you grabbed his worn brown leather jacket with your free hand, draping it over your arm as you lead him to the narrow staircase, minding his feet, knowing full well that one stumble in his clunky work boots would send you both crashing to the bar floor and he was significantly harder to pick up from there. 

“I swear you only make me do this on night’s I wear heels” you muttered, using the wall to support yourself in the almost too narrow stairwell as you pulled him up with you.

“I can walk” he slurred 

Despite his declaration, his weight leaned heavier against you and as if to prove your point, he misjudged the next step, toe catching on the lip of the step, sending him careening forward, forcing you to catch yourself against the wall, fingernails digging into the flesh of his hip to keep him from smashing his perfectly straight teeth on the stairs. 

He grunted, catching himself on the wall on the other side without much success and you sighed as he righted himself. 

“You were saying?” 

“Shut up” he muttered as you reached the landing, wrenching the heavy wood door open that led to your tiny apartment. 

“You should really fix that” he mumbled as you dragged him into the dark room before flipping on the light and kicking the door closed with your foot

“I’ll get right on it” you sighed, finally letting go of the grip you’d had around his waist, causing him to stumble slightly as you reached to pull your heels off. “You know where your bed is” you yawned, draping his jacket over the nearest chair.

“My bed?” he repeated to the back of your head as you made your way to the bathroom. 

You turned only enough to look over your shoulder at him standing on surprisingly steady feet, the first three or four buttons of his plaid shirt undone and you had to force yourself to meet his eye. 

He’s drunk the little voice in the back of your mind whispered It would be unethical 

You snorted at your own inner monologue before answering him “Well, no one else spends as many nights here” 

This seemed to be answer enough for him as he sat with a heavy thump on the couch, bending to untie his boots before kicking them off, leaving them haphazardly strewn on the living room floor. 

You made your way down to the bathroom, closing the door most of the way behind you as you ran the hot water to wash your face and change. 

When you reemerged, you  found Logan sitting on the edge of the spare bed, leaned against the headboard, snoring softly. 

You giggled softly and seriously considered leaving him there, but thought better of it. 

“Logan,” you whispered, touching his arm gently, careful to keep clear of his hands. Nearly being impaled once when you startled him awake the first time he had spent the night was enough.

He hadn’t even stirred at your touch. 

You sighed “Any other night and you’d almost take my head off” you muttered

You grunted bending to lift his legs up on the bed and he mumbled something in his sleep as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. Pulling the comforter up around his shoulders you turned off the small lamp next to the bed, nearly jumping out of your skin hearing a slurred “Thanks” from where he laid.

“Just don’t puke on my bed” 

You heard him scoff with a laugh as you made your way to your own bed, drifting off to sleep almost as quickly as he had. 

***

You turned over in your sleep with a heavy sigh through your nose; a heaviness pressing on your mid-section. You blinked sleep from your eyes as you took a deep breath as you turned over, you jumped slightly when your nose nearly brushed against Logan’s as he slept. 

Your shoulders sagged as you sighed a second time, his arm still heavy across your middle as you studied his face in the dark. His face was weathered…not that you blamed him, you knew he’d been through the ringer before he ever graced a stool at the bar. Some he talked about, most he didn’t…you assumed. He was handsome still though, ruggedly so. You watched as his forehead creased with worry; he was dreaming. 

He dreamt a lot, or more accurately had nightmares a lot. You wondered if he thought the drinking helped; they seemed to be worse on the night’s he drank heavier…you had tried pointing that out once and nearly lost a limb because of it. Logan wasn’t the most…level headed man; although you could say with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t ever hurt you…anymore.

You turned over to the best of your ability, still trapped under the dead weight of his arm. He hadn’t even noticed, just carried on mumbling incoherently in his sleep, jerking slightly. You reached with a hand to brush your thumb gently across his cheek and his features softened instantly as he relaxed under your touch. 

“Shhh” you cooed, feeling his fingers twitch slightly against the small of your back “It’s okay, you’re safe” you whispered, his arm instinctively squeezing tighter, pulling you closer. 

It was that exact moment that it occurred to you  that Logan was no longer wearing a shirt….or pants…

You pressed your lips together in a hard line, wanting nothing more than to shake him awake and immediately demand an explanation, but you didn’t. This hadn't been the first time you had woken up with Logan next to you…. although it was a first for him to be sparsely clothed. 

Instead, and in spite of yourself, you settled more comfortably against him, tucking your head under his chin and closed your eyes, letting the heat radiating from him lull you back to sleep.

***

The sun streamed in through the window far too early, and you cursed yourself for not remembering to close the curtains the night before. 

You tried to roll over on your back and were met with a wall of resistance. Very warm resistance. 

You shifted with a scoff, reaching to shove him. 

“God, get off me, you're so hot” you whined, trying in vain to move away. 

A grunt of response over your shoulder as Logan stirred awake. “Fuck” he growled, shielding his eyes from the light against your shoulder. 

“That's what you get for drinking half the bar” you quipped, immediately gasping with surprise as his teeth found purchase in that same shoulder and you twisted away, turning to face him. 

“Don’t bite me you weirdo” 

He smirked sleepily with a shrug “Didn't seem to mind it much last time”

“Last time doesn't count” you muttered and he snorted with a laugh

“Just because you say it doesn't count doesn't mean it didn't happen”

“Shut up” you snapped, attempting to pull yourself up out of bed, and failing; Logan's strong arm keeping you pinned against his chest. “You were drunk” 

“If memory serves, so were you” he whispered 

“Yeah well,” you shrugged against him “That’s the thing about memories isn’t it?” 

He sighed against your neck, his warm breath causing your skin to ripple with goosebumps

You closed your eyes and sighed as his fingertips toyed lazily with the fabric of your t-shirt “Logan” you breathed and he hummed questioningly against the hollow behind your ear

“Don’t,” you sighed heavily “W-we can’t” 

Another hum as you turned your head and the tip of his nose dragged along the line of your jaw.

“Logan…” you repeated; noses nearly touching at this point 

“Why not?” he whispered, lips brushing against yours as he spoke 

You could feel your whole body flush with heat as you swallowed hard; mustering up enough willpower to push him back gently by the shoulders; his brown eyes searching your face. 

“Because we said we wouldn’t, remember?” your voice was soft, but the words were shaky, you were on the verge of cracking and you had no doubt he knew it. You needed to move, needed to get out from under the delicious weight of his torso, needed to put space between you….

You cleared your throat and wriggled out from under his arm, throwing the blanket back as you clumsily got to your feet. 

“C’mon,” he coaxed, propped on an arm “We’re both adults” 

“Yes, exactly” you nodded in agreement as you turned away, pushing your hair back off your face “Adults who make informed sober decisions” 

“I prefer your drunken decisions” 

“You would” you scoffed “Get out of my bed”

“That’s not what you said last-”

“Will you shut up about last time?!”  You snapped

“You’re bitchy in the morning” he mumbled climbing out of the bed on the other side. 

“That’s rich coming from you” you rolled your eyes in spite of facing away from him as you pulled on a pair of jeans from the night before.

You came around the end of the bed, pushing around him as you pulled open the drawer to your dresser, digging for a clean shirt before looking up at him “Turn around” 

He scrunched his nose slightly “Why?”

“What do you think this is, a peep show?” 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before” 

“Oh my god” you rolled your eyes again and Logan just shrugged

“Well it isn’t” 

You sighed, not really having time to argue, you pulled your t-shirt over your head, dropping it on the floor at your feet. You looked up at Logan and he wasn’t looking back, you had been ready to give him shit until you noticed his eyes were fixed on your collarbone, and the ugly scar that disappeared under your bra strap. You pulled the clean shirt on, the scar covered underneath…at least most of the way; half an inch or so still poked out from under the deep v of your shirt. Logan’s eyes hadn’t moved. 

“It’s fine” you spoke softly, snapping him from his thoughts and he met your eye. His usual grumpy scowl was more of a pout. “It’s fine” you repeated 

He just grunted in response and you made to move around him to finish getting ready. “Everyone knows I shouldn’t be allowed around sharp objects” you joked with a gasp as he grabbed your wrist as you walked by, stopping you from going any further and turning you to face him. He towered over you, the man was unnaturally large…you often wondered how you managed to haul him up here multiple nights a week by yourself. 

He hadn’t pulled you against him, but he stood close…too close. 

The hand not holding your wrist slowly reached to push back the collar of your shirt, exposing more of your scar. Your free hand reached to close over his, keeping it in place. 

The room was quiet for a beat before you spoke again, neither of you moved. 

“That’s not why” you whispered; you were looking at him, but he was looking at the jagged raised skin across your collarbone. 

You curled your fingers around his hand still resting against your chest. “I figured you would have forgotten” your voice still soft 

His eyes met yours then, no hint of humor in his features. 

“It’s fine,” you smiled gently “I lived” 

“Barely” he finally spoke 

“Well that’s what I get for trying to wake Edward Scissorhands from a nightmare” 

He just glared 

“Come on grump,” you changed the subject turning toward the door “Put some clothes on, you owe me breakfast” 

“Owe you?” he repeated, letting you walk away 

“Yeah,” you nodded, turning to look over your shoulder as you stood in the doorway “And I know most places have a pretty lax dress code, but I don’t think yellow boxer briefs are gonna cut it” 

***

Despite having gone your separate ways after breakfast, Logan found his way back to his favourite bar stool by nine thirty. You watched him reach over the bar top and grab the bowl of peanuts you kept tucked underneath for when he inevitably showed his face. He had changed, you noticed, swapping the red flannel he��d had on this morning for a blue one. 

You handed the guy across from you his change as he blatantly looked down the front of your top and you fought the urge to deck him as he dropped a twenty on the bartop. 

“So..uh,” he started and you would bet it took every ounce of strength he had in him to meet your gaze “What time do you get off?” 

You laughed lightly taking the money off the bar and shook your head “No thanks” 

“What?” he pressed, “You got like a boyfriend or something?” 

“Or something” you smiled politely 

“Well he’s not here is he?” the guy tried again 

“Well,” you shrugged, scrunching your nose and glanced down the bar before looking back to him. 

“That guy?” his face twisting in disapproval as he looked down the bar at Logan who was finishing off his first round of peanuts. “You know who that is don’t you?” 

You raised your eyebrows, straightening your stance 

“He-”

“You can leave now” you cut him off “Thank you” 

“But-” he looked from you down to Logan and back at you 

“What can I say,” you smiled “I like ‘em sloppy” 

The guy opened his mouth to say something more and thought better of it, closing it again. 

“Wise choice” you rolled your eyes before turning on your heel and making your way down to the end of the bar where Logan sat. 

“Fancy meeting you here” you smiled setting his usual glass in front of him and refilling the empty bowl 

He took the glass, nearly draining it before putting it back down “You changed” 

You laughed lightly with a shrug, handing him the whiskey bottle. “This outfit gets me better tips” 

He looked up with a raised eyebrow as you gently tossed the twenty you’d just been given on the bar in front of him. “Doesn’t have pockets though, hold on to that for me, would you?” 

“What do I look like, a bank?” he grumbled 

“No,” you smirked “But I owe you” 

His eyes narrowed again as he studied your face “You’re giving me your tip money?” 

“No,” you said again 

“But you owe me?” he asked, lines in his forehead deepening 

You giggled, walking around the bar, intentionally walking too close to where he sat, brushing against his broad shoulder. You knew you were flirting with disaster, but you had started to regret not taking him up on his offer this morning….against your better judgment…and getting under Logan’s skin was so easy, sober or not. 

“Stop it” he warned 

You stopped mid stride, chest purposefully pressed against his shoulder. “What?” 

He glared and you smirked “You're so easy to rile” you teased, messing up his hair  “I thought it was nothing you haven't seen before”

“You wanna play this game?” He narrowed his eyes 

“Who's playing?” You leaned to whisper next to his ear. 

He growled and you giggled before walking away to make your rounds.

[saturnville]

georgia peach.

pairing: lewis hamilton x black oc (lola monroe) summary: he's a boy from london. she's a girl from georgia, and she's a sight to behold. warnings: none. reference: georgia peach by latto tags: @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 @neewrites @cocobutterqwueen an: we may expand on this, we may not. depends on the reception of it all. enjoy

The lights were dim. The air was thick with the smell of expensive champagne, spilled Crown Royal, and the low hum of conversation and loud laughs among the guest’s inhabitants. It was another spring night among socialites, close friends, and acquaintances. A get-together to welcome the warm weather and good vibes. It just so happened to have fallen on a day when he won the race. The thrill of victory seemed routine; ass-kissers and loud claps on his back and shoulders of pride and congratulations. Not much seemed to change. Until she walked in. 

The room seemed to tilt the moment her silhouette appeared in the doorway. His head snapped to the entrance, and for a moment, the chaos of the function faded into the background. He was unfamiliar with her, but she was nothing like the women who usually orbited his world. There was a southern sway in her walk that was slow, deliberate, and oozing with confidence. Her hips curved in ways that made his heart race, and the sparkle from the grillz that adorned her teeth caught the low light, matching his own. 

Then, she spoke.

“Y’all out here celebrating without me?” Her voice was a melody of sweet Southern charm, the accent like honey on his ears.

He had seen her, but never like this. The rumors floated around about her—some girl from Georgia who had recently taken the marketing world by storm—but he had never paid much attention. Tonight, though, she was all he could see.

Lewis tried to remain composed, but when her eyes met his, a slow smile curled her lips, revealing those grillz. Damn. She wore them better than he ever could. She was temptation incarnate, and he knew he was in trouble the moment she began to walk toward him, her scent intoxicatingly close. Every step she took seemed to pull him further into her orbit, until they were standing face to face, inches apart.

“I hear you’re the man of the hour.” Her tone was teasing, like she already knew the effect she had on him. “Congratulations.”

His usual quick wit abandoned him. He nodded, eyes fixated on hers. He couldn't help but notice the way her lips parted slightly as she spoke, the smooth cadence of her voice. The thickness of her lip gloss caught his eye. And her curves, unapologetically bold, made his palms itch. He wanted to reach out, to feel if the softness he imagined matched what he saw.

"That’s what they say." He finally managed, his voice a little rougher than intended.

She smirked, catching him in a moment of weakness. "You gonna stand there all night, or offer me a drink?"

Lewis chuckled. “What’s your preference?” He led her to the bar which was littered with half-empty glasses and covered with sticky liquid, sugar, and failed date requests. The smell was strong, to which he grimanced. She raised an eyebrow. “Not a drinker?” 

Lewis shook his head. “Gave it up a while ago.”

She nodded once. She, too, gave up drinking, at least frequently some time ago. She had the party phase during her undergraduate and graduate days, but one day after her 30th birthday, she decided she’d only drink twice a month in social settings, with a limit of one drink. She couldn’t believe she was using her last drink pass of the month and it was only the 17th, but for a chance to see how far under his skin she could get, she’d take it. 

“Understood. I’ll take a lemon drop.” She kept her eyes on him as he interacted with the bartender on her behalf. “Thank you.” 

“So,” he started cooly. “I see your face. Don’t know your name.” 

She paused to thank the bartender, took a sip, and moaned lowly. Lewis closed his eyes momentarily. To hear that sound once again. It was quiet, but it managed to rumble his loins. “Lola Monroe,” she said after some time. 

“Lola Monroe.” Lewis tasted her name on his tongue. Savory with a hint of sweetness. There must have been some lingering beneath her seemingly hard exterior. “That’s pretty. Real pretty."

“Thank you,” she replied bashfully. She recovered quickly and brought the glass to her lips, her gaze trained on his as the rim covered the lower half of her face. Her dark eyes bore into his, and he could feel his inhibitions slipping. Her eyes were beautiful, a dark shade of brown with hints of honey that one might mistake for flirtation. She had long eyelashes, too. With every bat of them, Lewis’s knees nearly buckled. She knew how to sweep a man off his feet. 

Lewis cleared his throat and took a step toward her. He studied her reaction. She hadn’t moved an inch. “You always hold staring contests with the guys you see?” 

Lola’s lips curled into a smirk as she lowered her glass, maintaining eye contact. The corners of her mouth hinted at the mischief that swirled through her mind. She was aware of her actions. He knew it. She knew it. She tilted her head slightly, her voice low and laced with a challenge. 

“Only those who look like them can be taken down a notch…or two.” That thick, Southern draw wrapped around her words like a warm hug, but the underlying confidence did not go unnoticed. 

Lewis’s interest piqued. Not only was this woman a whirlwind, but she was not phased by him, his status, or the money in his pocket. In fact, it wasn’t of interest at all. She found joy in interacting with him as if he was just a regular guy. That drew him in. 

“Is that right?” He leaned in, testing her boundaries. His lips parted as his tongue circled on the grillz that covered his teeth. Her eyes lowered. “Are you sure you want to keep testing me, Lola?”

Lola brought her lips to the glass again, this time making sure she had his attention as her tongue caressed the rim. “Do you think you’re the only one capable of a challenge, Mr. Hamilton?” Yet again, her tone and demeanor showed she wasn’t phased by him. The tension was there, and it cut like a knife. 

The race chuckled lowly. He tried to keep his cool; he indeed did, but the attraction was undeniable. The women he’d seen were diverse, but Lola Monroe was something else. She was a force.

“Is that what you think?” His voice dropped lower, teasing the air between them. She looked him up and down, taking in his jawline and the intensity in his eyes. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips as she leaned closer, her voice dropping even lower. Her lips brushed against his ear as she said, “I don’t think. I know.”

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

I really wanted to write a fic where Edwin meets Crystal's mother for Day 2: Friends and Family of @crystal-week but life and concussions got in the way, so here it is, bullet-point style:

In her continuing attempts to get on her parents' good side, Crystal has offered to help them with the planning of a charity gala they throw every year. Last year, she was possessed during the gala and made a scene involving tearing into several trays of sushi in front of all the guests, so she's determined for everything to go perfectly this year. As a result, she's taken a bit of a step back from case work.

It's the night of the gala and everything's going smoothly. Crystal's done everything her parents asked and they both seem happy. She's having a pretty good night, until she turns around and sees her mother talking to a woman she recognizes as Edwin in disguise.

(Why is Edwin at the gala in his disguise? Probably because he needs Crystal's help on a case. Why didn't he just slip in unseen as a ghost in order to avoid social interaction or send Charles? Handwavy plot reasons.)

Really not wanting to see where this conversation goes, Crystal approaches, pausing when she hears Maddy Surname ask Edwin if he has any children. When he replies in the negative, she launches into a litany of complaints about her own daughter, who she says is selfish and spoiled, who has squandered every chance her parents have given her, who ruined last year's gala and has done nothing but get in the way while they were planning this year's.

Crystal knows how her mother feels about her. She can read her mind, after all. But hearing it laid out in such stark terms, when Crystal has been trying so hard, is like that phone call in Port Townsend all over again.

Edwin, who is visibly uncomfortable with having a stranger drunkenly gripe about her family troubles, looks around and spots Crystal standing nearby, unbeknownst to her mother. She knows she's not doing a very good job of hiding how close she is to tears.

And the thing is, Crystal knows where she stands with Charles, because Charles wears his heart on his sleeve. She considers Edwin a friend. But even if she knows he likes her better than he did when they first met, she's never been 100% sure if she's his friend, or if he just tolerates her for Charles's sake.

And then Edwin turns to Maddy and says something under his breath that Crystal can't hear. He's wearing the same icy expression he gets sometimes when a client disrespects Charles. Whatever his reply is, it leaves Crystal's mother speechless.

Edwin walks away from Maddy, offers his arm to Crystal without a word, and they leave the gala together. They don't talk about it. Crystal never asks what Edwin said to her mom.

They solve the case and afterwards, Edwin makes a point of telling Crystal that she did an excellent job. Crystal stays up all night with Edwin and Charles playing Cluedo. Around the third time she kicks their asses (Edwin, the sore loser, accuses her of reading the envelope) she realizes that she's been spending all this time trying to get back in her parents' good graces when she has this new family right here who likes her just as she is.

Next time she visits her parents, she overhears Maddy complaining to a friend about the awful woman at the gala who called her a fucking dreadful mother. Crystal just smiles to herself and decides to go buy Edwin some new mystery novels.

[homesick4la]

complicated — hamzahthefantastic

3. brown eyes at the entrance

contains: goofy drunk hamzah, quick mention of sex but no actual nsfw content in this one

summary: what do you do when your ex shows up at your front doorstep?

a/n: short but i just wanted to post hi

last part: with you all night

you left hamzah’s apartment that morning feeling more confused than ever. you two ate breakfast together and then you were out the door. he hadn’t even asked to hangout again or talked about breaking the whole “no contact” thing. he simply said he enjoyed the night with you and told you to have a good day.

how could he spend such an intimate night with you and not ask to see you again?

as hard as it was, you tried to be nonchalant about the situation. you could hook up with your ex in a casual way, right?

you call mandy, practically begging her to meet you for coffee.

now you were at your local cafe, anxiously walking up to the table you spotted mandy at.

“y/n! hey!” she said excitedly. you can almost see her eyes analyzing your facial expressions as you walk up to her. “so what’s up? you look like you’ve got something to tell me.”

“oh, it’s definitely..something.” you laugh nervously, “i uh, ended up talking to hamzah last night…”

“oh that’s great!” she interrupts, “did you get any sort of closure?”

“yeah, about that…i actually ended up going back to his place..”

she sighs at your confession.

“and we had sex but listen! i know that it was probably a bad idea but being around him again- it like made my brain go all fuzzy and all common sense went out the window.” you ramble, trying to defend yourself.

“y/n, i told you to go out on the balcony to get closure, not to hookup with him!”, she shakes her head at you. “but i get it. you guys have history, you’re comfortable with him. it’s easy to go back in that situation.”

“exactly! it was so comfortable! it felt like how things used to be. so now, i’m all confused because i thought i had finally gotten over him. and there’s matthew…”

“the guy you said was boring?” she questions.

“he is a bit boring but he’s nice- stable.”

“but what are you gonna do now? keep seeing him?”

“ugh, i don’t know. i guess i should end things with him- because clearly i have not moved on from hamzah yet.”

she nods slowly, deep in thought. “you think you’ll get back with hamzah again?”

“i don’t know,” you let out a harsh breath. “sometimes i think that maybe if we tried again, things would be different. like we’d be able to figure it out this time.”

she smiles softly.

“but today, he didn’t ask to meet again or ask how he could contact me or anything so i don’t even know if he wants to try again.” you shrug your shoulders.

“honestly, y/n, you might want to figure that out before cutting things off with matthew.”

she was right. you didn’t want to ruin a good thing simply for the possibility of getting back with your ex.

after another thirty minutes of catching up over coffee, she reminds you to keep her updated before the two of you part ways.

as you start driving home, your phone rings.

*incoming call: matthew*

“hey babe, you never texted me when you got home?” he questioned, his voice concerned.

you let out a soft sigh, “yeah, sorry- i went to sleep right when i got home.”

“you feeling better today?”

“yeah, yeah i think i just had a migraine or something.”

“good! i was actually wondering if you wanted to get dinner tonight?” his voice is hopeful.

he was kind and cute and he knew what he wanted. how could you say no?

“sure! were you gonna pick me up on the way or should i meet you somewhere?” you ask, a soft smile creeping on your face.

“i’ll pick you up at six. oh- and wear something fancy! i wanna take you to a nice place.”

you agree and say your goodbyes. you were excited to get dressed up and be taken out. you hoped that this dinner would change things- show you how interesting and exciting matthew really is, helping you move on from the chaos of hamzah.

…

the restaurant matthew had chosen was beautiful. the warm candlelight and low jazz music playing in the background creating such a romantic atmosphere.

he sat across from you, retelling a story about a hike he had went on.

you could tell he was making an effort. telling you this story with you in an attempt to share something meaningful with you. feel closer to you.

but as he kept talking, your mind kept slipping into memories with hamzah. you thought of how beautiful his face looked when illuminated by candlelight. the way his smile had always been on the edge of a smirk.

hamzah knew exactly how to pull you into each of his stories. he entertained you effortlessly. just one of his jokes could leave you clutching your stomach in laughter.

“and then i was there, completely lost.” he chuckles slightly as he ends his story.

“oh my god, that must’ve been so scary.” you reply, doing your best to give him energy.

he smiled softly as he looked into your eyes. “that’s what i’ve always loved about hiking though- you never know what adventure’s around the corner.”

“yeah.” you respond, smiling sweetly while all you can think about is how hamzah would’ve made fun of that corny line.

“you okay? you seem distracted.” matthew said, watching you as he took a bite of his steak.

“oh! yeah i’m fine, i just had a long day.” you explain, telling yet another lie.

“i get it.” he smiles, “no worries.”

god, did he have to be so kind and patient? it’d make you feel much less guilty if he was a complete asshole.

no, he was everything you should want. he was sweet, understanding, and so open with you.

but there was no allure. no mystery. no edge. all of the surface-level conversation you two were having was driving you absolutely insane.

“well, i actually had something to ask you.” he broke the silence.

you look up at him, nervously waiting for him to continue.

“i’m going on a trip to seattle next week. it’s completely covered by my job and i have a plus one. i know it’s a bit last minute but i wanted to know if you’d like to join me?”

traveling together would change this “casual dating thing”, into something more serious. something you were definitely not ready for. not yet.

you clear your throat to speak, “can i uh- think about it? it sounds super fun, i just have a lot of school work and stuff…”

he nods. “yeah, just let me know whenever you decide.”

“thank you.” you smile.

after finishing dinner, he drives you back home. he thanks you for the night, explaining what a great time he had with you.

he walks you to the front of your apartment complex and presses a gentle peck to your lips before telling you goodnight.

as you ride the elevator up to your apartment, you decide that you have to end things with matthew. you couldn’t go on that trip with him and lead him on any more than you already have. it was unfair of you to be constantly comparing him to hamzah. the truth was that there nothing wrong with him at all- you were the only person to blame in this situation.

you look up as you start walking toward your apartment to see hamzah leaned up against the wall next to your front door. his head tilted back, eyes closed- simply waiting.

“hamzah? what are you doing here?” you say, your voice coated in shock.

his eyes are low. a goofy smile plastered on his face. he was either drunk or high, or both.

“you look pretty.” you can practically hear his smirk.

you stand directly in front of him. “are you drunk?” you ask as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“a little bit”, he laughs. “and maybe a little bit high but listen- i just wanted to see you.”

“oh and this couldn’t wait until you were, i don’t know, less…drunk?”

he shrugged, “but you were out with ‘new guy’, what’s his name?”

“matthew.” you roll your eyes at him. “how’d you know i was out with him anyway?”

“mandy might’ve mentioned that you texted her about it.” he grins, “i think watching paint dry might be more exciting than going on a date with that guy. i couldn’t let you go home and just be with that kind of…energy.”

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “hamzah, you can’t just show up at my door every time you think i should be around better “energy.”

“oh i can”, he shoots back at you. “it’s actually one of my best skills- showing up uninvited and reminding you of how fun i am.”

“you’re unbelievable.” you laugh, already feeling defeated by his charm.

“and yet”, he pauses. “here you are, laughing. i’ve still got it.” a cocky grin creeps on his face. you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re so full of yourself.” you shake you head, smiling.

“i just feel confident around you, that’s all.”

“oh really?” you tilt your head to the side.

“c’mon, y/n. tell me the truth- was he as funny as me?”

“no.” you admit, rolling your eyes.

“as charming?” he pushes.

“also, no.” you answer.

“then what are we doing here?” he lifts his hands up dramatically. “why are you spending your night with boring ol’ matthew when you could’ve had all this?” he gestures to himself, that goofy smile of his still lingering on his face.

“hamzah. you are being ridiculous.” you reiterate.

“did you mean ridiculous-ly hot and sexy or?” he can’t help but laugh at his own joke.

you shake your head and roll your eyes once again, still unable to contain the smile that seemed stuck on your face.

“you are impossible to argue with.” you tell him.

“is that a yes to me coming in?” he asks, a hopeful look in his eyes. “please? i’ll just sleep on the couch or even, the floor. whatever you want me to do.”

“you came here to sleep on my couch?”

“i just want to be around you.” he whined.

how could you say no to those brown puppy-dog eyes of his? and you couldn’t send him home drunk- that wasn’t safe. you just had to let him in.

“fine. get inside before i change my mind.” you tease as you unlock your front door.

the second you two get inside, he walks over to the couch, flopping onto it and stretching out with a smug look on his face. “see? look how harmless i am?”

“mhm, very harmless.” you say as you grab a blanket.

you start tucking him in with the fluffy blanket until he grabs your hand, looking into your eyes. “thank you for letting me in.”

“yeah, well you’re just lucky i’m too tired to kick you out.” you joke.

“yeah, lucky.” he repeats, his voice soft as his thumb rubs your hand softly.

just from the way his gentle touch and low voice had such an effect on you, you knew you were in trouble all over again.

a/n: next part soon. promise. also i did not proofread bc it’s 2 am and im tiredddd also writing this kinda reminded me of the song memories by conan gray so that is where the title for this part is from yay here’s the song if u wanna listen

[aquaticmercy]

Blood Bar

Part 4 of Dark Necessities

Series Summary : You drink Bucky’s blood out of necessity and accidentally form a primal bond that has the ability to unlock an ancient ritual magic.

Chapter Summary : Blade takes you and Bucky to a Vampire Bar

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x half-vampire!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Blood. Death. Cursing. Violence. Pleasure from a vampire bite (?). The reader is a dhampir/half-vampire/daywalker like Blade, and Blade is a mentor figure in this. Established relationship.

Word Count : 3.3k

Note : This series has so much potential world building and I am sooooo excited to share it with you guys! Let me know if you wanna be on the taglist. The name Dead Club City is taken from the Nothing but Thieves album. Enjoy!

Before you entered Dead Club City, Eric had grabbed your shoulder in hushed tones, his voice dripping with warning. “Keep the bond a secret. If anyone suspects—” He stopped, glancing at Bucky before locking eyes with you. “Just… keep it hidden.”

As you walked into Dead Club City, you felt the strange, cold familiarity of the place settle—a memory surfacing from a night long past. It had been decades ago, and you’d been a reckless teenage daywalker, newly turned and testing boundaries you didn’t yet understand. You’d come crashing into this very bar, pushing limits in ways only the young and foolish dared. The memory flickered through your mind: your younger self brashly demanding what no one here allowed themselves anymore.

The bar sprawled in shades of scarlet and purple, lit by dim sconces and vintage lamps. The velvet-lined walls that absorbed the soft music humming in the background. The air was tinged with the metallic scent of old blood and the faintest hint of incense. There was a haunting glow over the place, and high on the back wall, a neon sign pulsed in crimson letters: ALL THE HEAVEN, ALL THE TIME — perhaps a sardonic promise, perhaps a cruel joke.

Everyone here was teetering on the edge between indulgence and restraint.

Vampires filled the room, but they were unlike the ones you usually hunted— these vampires had an almost serene existence, a kind of peace that came from surviving many lifetimes, finding a truce with the living world.

These vampires have sworn off human blood, choosing to feed on animal blood instead. 

Some lounged in booths, others spoke in hushed voices over candlelit tables. When you and Bucky walked in, though, the conversation softened, a few heads turning as eyes tracked you both with subtle curiosity. Whispers drifted around you, brushing against your heightened senses like moths against a flame.

As you approached the bar, the bartender, a woman with sharp, dark eyes and a cascade of silvery hair tied in a braid, looked you over with an expression you couldn’t quite recognise. There was something ageless in her stare, a weariness, but the years had been tamed it to appear kind.

When her gaze settled on Eric, her expression shifted to recognition. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Eric,” she said, her voice smooth and smoky. “I didn’t expect to see you here again. Thought you’d switched to the synthetic stuff decades ago.”

Eric inclined his head slightly. “Liona,” he replied, a hint of warmth in his voice. “Good to see you still run this place. It hasn’t changed much.”

“A blood bar this old doesn’t need to change,” she replied, chuckling softly.

“And you,” her eyes flickered to you, “Some nerve, coming back here,” she said, an amused edge to her voice. “The last time you walked in, you were practically a bloodthirsty child, causing trouble and trying to get your hands on human blood where there wasn’t any. Made quite a scene.”

Back then, you could feel their judgement in the air, the way they called you insane for seeking human blood in a place of sobriety. 

Human blood was strictly forbidden here, the way alcohol might be in a sober house—a choice made by each vampire, a discipline kept in this sanctuary.

“Guess you’ve changed since then,” Liona added, her gaze assessing, as if trying to gauge just how much you’d really grown since that reckless time. “You were violent. Wanted to prove you didn’t need limits.” She chuckled, shaking her head. 

Heat crept into your cheeks, an unspoken apology in your eyes. Her eyes finally settled on Bucky, “New friend?”

Eric nodded.

Liona poured a drink, a dark, crimson liquid that looked like blood but smelled faintly of… cranberry juice. She set it down in front of him. “For you—a mocktail,” she said with a hint of a smile. “Some vampires bring their human partners here. Figured you might be one of them.”

Bucky gave a brief nod. His hand brushed yours as he reached for the drink, and Liona’s eyes tracked the movement, her brow creasing ever so slightly. When she turned to you, she placed a drink in front of you—an ornate glass filled with rich, dark blood— a mix of cow and camel. The bartender leaned on the bar, her gaze lingering with a faint smirk as she watched you bring the glass to your lips.

You took a sip, but the taste that once filled you with strength now felt wrong. Flat. Your stomach tightened, your senses rejecting it almost instinctively. You only wanted Bucky’s blood now; anything else was empty, hollow. 

The bartender chuckled quietly, catching the way you recoiled, her eyes glinting with understanding. “So you are still drinking human blood, then.”

You froze, wondering how much Liona had truly seen to have possibly come to a correct conclusion from just looking at how you reacted. 

Still, she did not know the severity of the human blood you drank.

Eric leaned in, his voice low. “Liona’s older than most in this room,” he murmured to you. “She was around for the last recorded Blood Bond in the 1600s.”

Liona straightened, her gaze sharpening. “Blood Bond, huh?” she asked, her voice suddenly a pitch higher. “Why does that interest you?”

Just then, Eric turned to Bucky, reaching across the bar. He held Bucky’s gaze as he took a small toothpick from a dish. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pricked Bucky’s human arm. The bead of blood welled, dark against his human skin—and instantly, you felt a sharp, sudden pain in your own arm.

A gasp escaped you, and you clutched your arm instinctively, feeling the ache like it was your own. Liona’s eyes went wide as she processed what your reaction meant, her vision darting between you and Bucky. Her lips parted, the hing of sadness in her expression. “A true Blood Bond,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone. “It’s been centuries since I’ve seen this…”

The room seemed to quiet around her memories, her voice carrying an almost ancient longing, as if she were recalling something from a different lifetime.

Liona let out a long, resigned sigh. When she looked back at you, her features softened with… pity?

“Come with me,” she said, her tone gentler, as if she understood all too well the path you’d found yourself on. She gestured toward a door tucked into the shadows behind the bar. As you followed her, the room seemed to press in around you, quiet with expectation. 

And with one last look at the glowing neon sign—ALL THE HEAVEN, ALL THE TIME—you stepped through the back door, the familiar hum of whispers fading as you crossed into the unknown. 

—

Liona led you and Bucky down a narrow, dim hallway that seemed to fold in on itself, the shadows lengthening and wrapping around you. Each step you took felt muffled, as though sound itself had been dampened in these hidden corridors. Bucky walked beside you, close enough that you could feel the tension humming beneath his skin, the way his hand would occasionally brush against yours, grounding you both in a place that felt almost haunted.

You entered her room. It was a small, sparse space, walls bare except for the few paintings and photographs hanging like relics. The air felt dense with the weight of things left unsaid, as though every inch of the place was steeped in memories that were too painful to release. Bucky shifted beside you, his brow furrowed as his eyes scanned the room, his shoulders stiffening with a tension that mirrored your own. He reached out, almost unconsciously, his fingers grazing your hand before he seemed to catch himself, pulling back slightly, but not before the touch anchored you both.

Liona’s voice was almost a whisper as she gestured to the oldest painting on the wall. A past version of herself stood in front of a wooden cottage, a small plaque beneath reading, 17th Century. You felt Bucky’s hand slide into yours, his grip tightening as he took in the figures in the painting: Liona, a woman who looked identical to the bartender, save for the black streak in her hair, and a third woman— human— leaning into Liona’s doppelganger’s arm.

“That’s my twin, Joanna,” Liona murmured, as if sensing your curiosity. “And the one beside her… that was Celine. Joanna’s love.” Her words were fragile, as if saying the name might tear something already broken inside of her.

You felt Bucky’s grip tighten. His posture tensed, his stare unwavering on the painting.

“They were more than lovers,” Liona said, her fingers trembling as they hovered over the image of her twin, as if she could reach through the centuries through the painting. 

“Celine was everything to Joanna… and she meant a lot to me, too. Celine kept us safe, shielded us when we were weak. Brought us animal blood from the butchers when we couldn’t hunt ourselves.” Her voice cracked. Liona looked down, her hand dropping to her side. “What Joanna and I had was a bond of birth. But with Celine… it was something different, something ancient.” She looked over at you and Bucky, her eyes heavy with warning. “A blood bond, much like yours..”

You felt a cold shiver sink into your bones, bracing yourself for whatever came out of Liona’s mouth next. The hand Bucky had on yours grew tenser, his fingers pressing into your skin as though he needed the reminder of your presence. As if he needed so desperately to feel you. He swallowed, already imagining the worst.

Liona’s voice grew hollow as she continued, each word carefully measured, as if dredging up memories from a wound still raw, even though it had been over 300 years. 

“The night it happened, when we shared Celine’s blood… It was desperation, not intent. We were starving, and Celine offered herself to keep us alive.” She closed her eyes, pain etched into every line of her ancient face. “I drank, and all I felt was gratitude. But when Joanna drank…” She drew a shaky breath. “Something awoke, something none of us could understand. The bond was formed.”

You thought back to that night when you first drank from Bucky, the night that bound you to him in ways you hadn’t fully understood. The memory was vivid—the rush of his blood filling you, flooding your senses with a euphoria that drowned out everything but the feel of him. It had been bliss for the both of you, pure and consuming. It was a pleasure so intense it left you dizzy for days, caught between the high it gave you.

For a moment, you wondered if that was what Joanna and Celine had felt, too—a bond so powerful it eclipsed everything else, a love that filled the world until nothing else mattered.

Bucky’s star was fixed on Liona with an intensity that bordered on dread. He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, almost unconsciously. 

“Joanna and Celine felt everything together,” Liona continued, her voice slipping into a hollow, distant tone. “Every joy, every pain, every touch. It was beautiful… until it wasn’t.”

This time Bucky’s grip turned into iron.

“One day… we woke to Celine’s pain. She’d been taken by the town, accused of witchcraft, of something unnatural… She wasn’t even a witch.” Her hands shook, her shoulders tense as though bracing against the memory. “We wanted to save her but the sun was out. We were not as lucky as you, Daywalkers,” Liona glanced at you and Eric, a hint of jealousy in her voice, perhaps a craving to feel heat in her skin once again. 

She continued, “Joanna felt it all. She felt the flames eating through Celine's skin, heard her screams as if they were her own.” Her voice broke, and her fists clenched. “Celine’s agony… it tore her apart.”

The horror of it sank into you like a stone, your stomach twisting at the thought of such a pain shared across their bond. Bucky’s hand left yours for a brief moment, and you felt exposed, vulnerable. Then you felt his arm slip around your waist, pulling you close, his body tense as though shielding you from something you could not see, as if he could hold back the terror in Liona’s words from reaching your heart.

“When Celine’s heart stopped, Joanna… felt every second of it.” Liona’s words were low, guttural, raw. “It was the grief, the rage that consumed her— It hollowed her out until she was nothing but vengeance. She tore through the village that night, killing anything in her path. She was lost to the bond, to a hunger that had turned her… monstrous.”

Besides you, Bucky’s breath hitched, and you felt his heart pounding. You felt panic through the bond, knowing in his head lay the same question that echoed in yours—could this happen to us?

Liona’s hand drifted to her side, lifted her shirt ever so slightly, tracing a faint scar on her hip with a haunted gaze. “I was the one who had to stop her,” she said, her voice a mixture of regret and resignation. “My sister was ready to kill me. She could not tell friend from foe. I had no choice… I drove a stake into her heart.” Her voice softened, barely audible. “I ended her suffering.”

A suffocating silence settled over the room. You could barely breathe, Bucky’s fingers digging into your arm, his grip painfully tight as he processed the memory. You could feel the worry clouding his mind, and in that moment, your bond felt as fragile as glass.

Finally, Liona looked at you both, her gaze distant, filled with a sorrow that spanned centuries. “This bond,” she whispered, “it is beautiful, but it is dangerous. It can consume you, burn through every part of you until there’s nothing left.” She held your gaze, a glimmer of sadness hidden in the depths of her eyes. “Be careful with what you’ve awakened.”

Her words lingered, settling into the silence like ashes. He reached for your hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours, the pressure grounding both of you. Neither of you spoke, but in that shared silence, there was a mutual understanding, an unspoken promise.

Liona’s gaze softened as she looked at your joined hands, something wistful in her eyes. She stepped over to an old cabinet by the bed and pulled out a worn leather-bound journal, its edges frayed, the cover etched with symbols faded by age and touch. She held it for a long moment, brushing her fingers over the faded leather with the tenderness of someone touching a memory.

“This was Joanna’s,” she said finally, her voice just above a whisper. “It’s all that remains of her. I’ve read it only once; I couldn’t bear it again. But maybe… maybe you would understand, better than I can explain.” She extended the journal toward you, a cautious invitation to the memories contained within— the only thing she had left of the sister she shared a womb with.

You glanced at Bucky, He didn’t need to say anything; the bond was already tethering you in ways words couldn’t.

You took the journal, feeling its weight in your hands, the smell of old leather and ink mixing with the soft, lingering scent of blood that clung to everything in this room. Liona watched you with a cautious sorrow, as if passing on a piece of her sister’s broken spirit. 

You realised, Liona had loved Celine, too, deeply but differently—a platonic love free of the bond’s consuming rage. And in her eyes, you saw the unhealed wound of it, the pain of watching someone she loved unravel, bound to a fate Liona could neither share nor break.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, your voice shaking slightly. 

The words felt hollow for all that Liona had endured, but there was nothing else you could possibly offer her. 

Bucky squeezed your hand, and you could feel his unspoken promise there, one that felt almost desperate: I won’t lose myself to this. I won’t lose you to this. 

You weren’t sure if either of you truly believed it. You weren't sure if either of you had the choice.

You looked over at Eric, a hollow ache settling in your chest. Guilt stirred within you— how you kept this from him, how it took you so long to open up to a man you thought of as your brother. You hadn’t meant to bring Eric into this, not into something that could spiral so dangerously out of control.

And yet, here you all were, bound by decisions none of you could take back.

Eric seemed to understand the look in your eyes, letting go of usually guarded stance. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled you into a rare, rough embrace.

You let Bucky go, only for a moment, as Eric’s arms wrapped around you in a gesture that spoke louder than anything he could say, reminding you that neither you nor Bucky were alone in this.

When Eric finally pulled back, you wondered if what he felt now was how Liona felt then— a sister, taken by this ancient bond. And he was helpless to stop any of it.

He wondered, if one day, Eric would have to run a stake through your heart, just as Liona did to Joanna, because he was the only one who could possibly stand a chance against your all-consuming rage.

Liona cleared her throat, her eyes tracing over you and Bucky with a mix of caution and pity. “Your blood is… rare, to put it lightly,” she said, her voice sombre. “People will hunt you for it. You’re already a daywalker—that alone makes your blood potent enough for sacrificial magic. But now…” She paused, her gaze sharp and sorrowful. “A blood-bonded daywalker? Your blood will be worth its weight in gold. They’ll come for you both.”

You nodded slowly, letting the gravity of her warning seep into your bones. This bond felt like it had already set forces in motion that you couldn’t control. 

With a final nod to Liona, you, Bucky, and Eric left her quarters, stepping back into the throbbing, shadowed depths of Dead Club City. 

As you made your way toward the exit, something caught your eye—a man standing near the edge of the bar, watching the journal Bucky now carried with unsettling focus. He wore a long, regal coat in deep purple, lined with gold accents, and a lavish feather boa draped around his shoulders. His presence was impossible to ignore. 

He didn’t approach, didn’t move at all, just followed your movement with a steady, unnerving calm that felt like he was measuring you, understanding things about you that even you didn’t yet know. 

You exchanged a glance with Bucky, feeling the tension shared between you. 

As you, Bucky, and Eric pushed through the doors of Dead Club City and into the night, you felt the weight of the stranger’s gaze still on you, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

 —

Back in your room, Bucky settled beside you, the soft rise and fall of your breathing calming him down. A soft strand of hair had fallen over your face, and he couldn’t resist brushing it aside, his fingers lingering just above your skin, as though even the slightest touch might wake you.

But it wouldn't– he knew it wouldn’t. He could feel that you were too tired to be aware of anything else, he could feel your heartbeat beating steady as if it was next to his own heart.

He carefully reached for the worn leather journal on the nightstand, his fingers grazing over the cover as if trying to absorb a piece of the memories locked inside. With a cautious exhale, he opened it, each page creaking gently as he flipped to the section where Joanna’s handwriting —a mixture of delicate loops and hurried scrawls— began.

Celine’s heart is steady tonight, a rhythm I know even in my dreams. I can feel her joy, her sorrow, all her memories as if they are mine. How strange and beautiful it is, to feel so complete. And yet, part of me wonders how much love one heart can bear before it burns.

-to be cotinued...

Taglist :  @mystictf @chimchoom @crdgn @a-crying-fandom-lover @otterlycanadian 

@sebastians-love @intelligenceofapineapple

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Overheard -Oneshot

Word count: 1726

Y/N ate her overpriced shrimp carbonara slowly, looking around the restaurant as if she was marveling at the grand decorations, whilst subtly watching the two people at the table just twenty feet away.  It was a mission, tracking two spies who had been exchanging information to foreign entities.  They already had enough information on the woman, catching her in the act of stealing government information, now they just needed to figure out which government or country the man belonged to that she was selling the information to.  They looked very chummy for two people who supposedly had never met before, and it made Y/N suspicious.

“How’s your dinner, baby?” Bucky asked her across the table.

Y/N blinked and looked away from the two spies, meeting his gaze.  “It’s good,” she replied.  “Might even take some back up to the room for later.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised.  “You think so?”

She smirked.  “With the way this shrimp is flirting with me, I’d say it's definite.”

He smirked back at her.  “Well, maybe we should pack it up and go relax for a bit.”

“Sounds good to me,” Y/N nodded.  Bucky raised his hand for the waiter, asking for a box for Y/N’s food and that they would be leaving, to put the dinner on their room tab.  The waiter quickly returned with a box and Bucky stood from his chair, walking over to Y/N and helping her stand from her chair.  She thanked him quietly as he grabbed her food box then placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the restaurant.  When they reached the door he took her hand in his, walking to the elevator.  They were on this mission as a couple on an anniversary trip, coming close to the two spies without having to interact with them too much but be in close proximity.

When they reached their floor they dropped off Y/N’s food, using the cover of their room to detonate previously placed electric charges on the cameras in the hallway.  Once that was done they slipped out of their room and went over to the woman’s room that was next to theirs.

“Are you sure they’ll come here and not his room?” Bucky asked as he set up small camera bugs around her room, checking the room for hidden weapons and other cameras.

“He never booked a room,” Y/N said, opening different doors to check for good hiding spots for them both.  “He doesn’t plan on staying.”

Bucky hummed and finished what he was doing.  He got a ping on his watch and suddenly rushed to her.  “They’re right outside,” he said in a hushed tone, nearly dragging her to the large armoire closet across from the bed.

Y/N huffed as he pushed her inside the closet and shut the door behind himself.  “That was fast,” she whispered.  “They weren’t finished with dessert yet.”

They heard the door bang open, and then two sets of hurried, panting breaths.  Y/N and Bucky were shoved in the corner of the armoire, his large frame engulfing her in the small space.  She looked up at him in shock as they heard the woman moan, both of their eyes widening when they heard the telltale sign of clothes being taken off and bodies climbing on the bed.

“They’re not–”

“They are,” Bucky whispered.

“Fuck yes, please Antoine!  Fuck me!”

“Oh yeah baby.  Gonna fuck you so hard!”

Y/N’s lips tightened as she tried not to laugh, shutting her eyes and leaning her head back against the closet wall.  Bucky bit his lower lap, looking both amused and horrified at the same time, which made Y/N huff a silent laugh.

“Aren’t they both married?” Bucky whispered.  Y/N nodded.  “To other people?”  She nodded again, her shoulders shaking with the effort to not laugh out loud.

The couple were going at it, and Y/N couldn’t tell if the sounds they were making were real or exaggerated.  It sounded like a badly made porno, and as much as it was enough to make her laugh, once the sound of skin slapping on skin started she felt a small fire start in the pit of her belly.  Am I seriously getting turned on by this?

She didn’t have much time to think about it as Bucky shifted in front of her, his hips inching away from her.  Y/N could barely see in the closet, but looked up at him in question.  His face was turned away from her, glaring daggers on the door with a deep frown, but she swore she could see…was he getting turned on, too?  Y/N tried to subtly glance down, then as she shifted to try and get comfortable, her arm brushed against something hard.  Bucky nearly choked, and Y/N silently gasped.  He was getting turned on.  He had a raging boner.  Right now.  In front of her.  While they were stuck in a closet together.

Bucky shut his eyes tight, his head hanging low as he let out a slow puff of air.  “Please don’t judge me,” he whispered.

Y/N almost didn’t hear him over the loud moans and slapping noise outside the door.  She frowned at what he said.  “I’m not,” she whispered.  He opened his eyes and looked at her.  “It’s…it’s kinda hard not to be with all that going on out there,” she breathed, trying to play it off.

Bucky eyed her, his signature deadly smirk appearing on his ridiculously handsome face.  Playing a couple with him wasn’t hard.  Y/N had always had a small crush on him, and could have sworn that every once in a while during a stolen moment she could see him looking at her with desire.  That look was now solely focused on her, his eyes hungry as he looked down her body then back up to her eyes.  “Are you turned on right now?” he asked teasingly.

Y/N felt like she was shrinking under his stare, a shiver running down her spine.  Butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach as her heart did a flip.  “Maybe,” she whispered.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, then he shifted again but this time forward, pushing his hips into her, letting her feel his hard cock against her stomach.  Y/N gasped and Bucky quickly put his flesh hand over her mouth.  The couple was getting progressively louder, saying ridiculous things to egg each other on.  Y/N wondered if the woman was okay by how much she was screaming, and how hard the man was pummeling into her.

Bucky leaned down until his face was in front of hers.  He nuzzled her nose as his eyes flicked across her face.  Her breaths huffed against his hand as she stared at him.  “You like overhearing people fucking?” he whispered against his hand.  Y/N shuddered at the tone in his voice, and felt herself involuntarily nodding against his hand.  “Dirty girl,” he smiled.

Y/N felt like her heart was about to implode.  The sounds of sex echoing in the room with Bucky being this close to her, teasing and testing her while in hiding was all making her feel dizzy with anticipation.  The fear of being caught in this compromising position, being completely at his mercy was overwhelming.  Her breath came out as a stutter as she tried to relax.  It would do her no good to freak out while they waited out the spy couple to finish then do the handover. 

Bucky’s metal hand moved down to grasp her right wrist, bringing it up and pressing her palm over his bulge.  Y/N whined softly in her throat and his flesh hand pressed harder against her mouth.  “Sshh baby, we can’t let them hear you being a dirty little girl in here,” Bucky breathed.  He pushed her hand up and down his length, letting her feel how hard and big he was.  “You feel that, Y/N?  Yeah, I’m turned on because of overheard sex, but I’m mostly turned on because I’m stuck in here with you,” he said, his lips starting to graze over her nose and across her cheeks.  

This was how she was going to die, by a heart attack caused by the hottest man alive teasing her to her wit’s end.  Her head thrashed against his hand and he slowly pulled his palm off her mouth.  “Bucky, I can’t,” Y/N whispered desperately.  “Please stop teasing–”

The sounds outside the closet reached a crescendo, the man and woman finally cumming with long, loud moans.  Y/N’s mouth dropped open and Bucky dipped his head and kissed her hard to shut her up, his flesh hand lightly squeezing her throat before she could whine or moan, cutting off the sound and literally stealing her breath away.  The kiss was quiet, their heaving breaths covered by the sound of gasps and guttural moans outside.

“Holy shit, Antoine, that was amazing,” the woman huffed.

“Told you I’d fuck you hard,” the man said with clear pride in his voice.  “I love it when I make it so the neighbors hear you screaming my name.”

The woman giggled.  “Me, too.”  She sighed heavily.  “Here’s the info.”

He sighed as well, the sound of shifting on the bed as he took it from her.  “Thanks, toots.”

Bucky huffed a laugh against Y/N’s mouth and she broke the kiss to put a hand over his mouth.  They both froze for a moment, waiting to hear for anything, but the couple didn’t seem to hear them.  

“Should we finish that dessert?” the man asked.  “Then we can come back up here and go for round 2?”

The woman hummed.  “And then I’ll be in charge.”

The man chuckled and Y/N could hear them getting up and getting dressed.  After a few minutes their footsteps went out the front door.  Once the door shut Bucky nipped at her hand, making her gasp and pull her hand away, then he kissed her hard again, caging her against the closet wall and pressing his whole body against hers.

“Got our evidence,” he breathed against her mouth.  “Mission’s over.  Now, can we go back to our room, and I’ll fuck you until you scream my name?”

[teecupangel]

What if desmond was reborn as the 5th auditore child? Like he was just a baby/toddler when the auditore were executed

Hey, nonny.

We can make Desmond be born on March 13, 1476 so he would only be months old when the Auditores are executed.

Wanna fuck with Desmond and the Auditores some more?

What if we keep Maria’s mental state after the execution and make her believe that the baby in her arms is Petruccio.

The only person who could remind her that she was holding and caring for her fifth child was Claudia and it was becoming harder and harder for her to keep trying to stay strong when her mother treating Desmond as Petruccio makes her think that she’s in the past and asking when her husband would be back or if Federico and Ezio be back from playing outside.

The final nail in the coffin is that Maria mistook Claudia as someone else, maybe an older sister that was already dead or even her old nanny who died when Petruccio was just born.

Ezio saw what was happening and pushed Claudia to managing Monteriggioni to keep her from spiraling.

It becomes apparent that Maria sees Giovanni in Ezio and Mario tells him that it might be better if they slowly separate Maria from Desmond.

It’s not doing either of them any good and making Desmond replace Petruccio was a fate that no child should ever shoulder.

So Ezio pretends to be Giovanni taking Petruccio for walks and tries to be there for his younger brother.

But being an Assassin made it hard for him to return home frequently.

He tries his best and he knows Claudia also tries to make their younger brother understand that they don’t see him as a replacement and that their mother is simply… confused at the moment.

That’s how Desmond grew up, pretending to be Petruccio when he’s with Maria Auditore.

Mario trained him while Ezio was running around but he couldn’t leave Monteriggioni because Maria starts to ask where Petruccio is whenever she doesn’t see Desmond for a few hours.

Ezio went to Firenze after journeying to Spain (and got entangled with Bonfire of the Vanities) when Maria finally realized that Desmond isn’t Petruccio. To be more exact, Desmond had turned 21 and Maria cried as she remembered that Petruccio would have never grown as old as Desmond.

At that point, Maria’s relationship with her youngest child was strained by her own guilt and grief while Desmond just accepted it because he loved Maria and a part of him believed that he should have done something more (even if he was still a baby, guilt does not care about one’s age)

Desmond starts doing Assassin work as well but goes rogue for a few months, returning with the remaining seals for Altaïr’s statue.

Desmond takes the armor for himself and just shrugged it off as Ezio’s birthday present or something equally unimportant and Ezio returned to Monteriggioni with… well…

A very awkward family reunion, that’s for sure.

So many things have happened at that point and, as much as he is happy to see his mother healing, he feels guilty for not being there for Desmond who just shrugs it off and tells him “I understand.”

“I understand.”

That was the worst phrase Ezio heard.

He kept hearing it from his younger brother.

At first he was relieved that his brother understood.

Then he realized that the phrase meant more than that to Desmond.

It was a resignation to his current situation.

And Ezio wasn’t really in the best place himself.

He was still grieving the death of Cristina who died while Ezio was in Firenze for Savonarola and his men so there was also a bit of guilt there.

So Mario suggested Ezio takes Desmond to the Vatican with him as a ‘trainee’ and Ezio agreed.

He tells Desmond that he never wanted him to be an Assassin, that he hoped he was the only one who had to carry the blood that drenched the Auditores’ blade.

Desmond just stares at him and goes…

“I understand.”

And Ezio knew that he failed being a brother to his youngest in this bloody path of vengeance he had taken.

[josephandrewstarkey]

beach fight — part 5

warnings: not really any i think

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

part 1 — part 2 — part 3 — part 4 — part 5

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

After the chaos on the beach and Rafe’s revelation that he’d been the reason Alex ghosted her, Y/N was furious. She felt betrayed, hurt, and done with Rafe Cameron. She couldn’t believe how possessive and controlling he’d become, always tearing apart anyone who got close to her. That night, JJ was the one who stayed by her side, listening to her vent, offering the support she needed. Over the next few days, he kept her distracted from the mess that was Rafe—taking her surfing, watching old movies, and going on long walks along the beach where they’d talk about everything, life, dreams, and escape. JJ helped her through the anger, the sadness, and even the guilt she felt over her tangled feelings for Rafe. He became her escape.

Tonight, they’d planned to let go of everything—to drown out their emotions with laughter and liquor. y/n and JJ had taken the Twinkie for a quick run to the liquor store, their last stop before joining the others.

As they turned the last corner, there stood the one and only, Rafe Cameron, standing right in front of them with that same intense stare. Before she could pull back, JJ leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered, “Play along.”

Y/N shot him a curious glance, but his smirk told her all she needed to know. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, JJ steered them down the aisle, and she leaned into his touch, letting herself laugh as he murmured random things to make her smile. They strolled right past Rafe, and she could feel his eyes like a searing brand on her skin. She bit back a smirk, feeling her pulse quicken as JJ’s hand slid down to rest on her butt, almost on instinct.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched, and for a moment, it looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he just glared, simmering with barely contained anger. JJ caught his glare and decided to make it worse, resting his hand on her hip as he whispered something else that made Y/N giggle. She kept her expression cool, keeping her gaze averted from Rafe’s furious stare as they paid for their drinks and walked out.

Once outside, she thought they were finally free of him, but then came the familiar voice, tinged with desperation and anger. “Y/N.”

She paused, rolling her eyes, and turned around with a sigh, JJ standing firmly at her side. “What?”

Rafe ignored JJ, his eyes fixed on her. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. “No.”

“Y/N, please,” he pressed, voice softer this time, almost pleading. “Just hear me out.”

JJ looked at her, raising a brow as if to ask if she wanted him to intervene. She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and frustration bubbling up. Against her better judgment, she nodded for JJ to give them a minute. He shot Rafe a glare before stepping a few paces away, just close enough to intervene if he needed to.

“What do you want, Rafe?” she asked, voice sharp and cold.

Rafe’s gaze softened, regret visible in his expression. “I want to apologize, alright? I know I fucked up, fucked this up. All I’ve been able to think about is you. I miss you.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s what you said last time, Rafe. And the time before that.” She took a step back, her voice dropping to a tired whisper. “I don’t trust you. Not anymore.”

His face fell, desperation evident in his eyes. She started to turn, wanting to end this exhausting conversation, but Rafe grabbed her wrist, pulling her back toward him. She shot him a glare, her body tense as she remembered how their last confrontation had gone.

He hesitated, loosening his grip just enough for her to snatch her wrist back. JJ stepped forward, fists clenched, ready to jump in if needed. But Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender, trying to keep the situation from escalating.

He hesitated, loosening his grip just enough for her to snatch her wrist back. JJ stepped forward, fists clenched, ready to jump in if needed. But Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender, trying to keep the situation from escalating.

Y/N turned sharply and stormed back to JJ, who protectively threw an arm over her shoulder as they headed out, leaving Rafe standing alone, clenching his fists and barely able to hold back his anger.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Back at home, Rafe was still furious, every memory of Y/N and JJ at the liquor store playing in his mind. The idea of JJ being so close to her, the sight of him with his arm over her shoulder, and especially the thought of him being the one to comfort her—it all pushed Rafe to the edge.

He stomped into his house and slammed the door shut, not even noticing Sofia standing nearby until she approached him. She looked up, concerned, trying to get his attention.

“Hey, baby, you oka—”

But Rafe ignored her, brushing past her and heading upstairs, lost in his own thoughts. Sofia trailed after him, not giving up, until he finally stopped in his room, turning around to face her.

“What do you want?” he asked, annoyed.

Sofia’s face fell. “Nothing. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Well, I’m clearly fine,” he scoffed, sitting down on his bed. “So can you leave? Thanks.”

Sofia turned to walk out, her shoulders slumping, but Rafe suddenly called after her.

“Hey, Sofia.”

She turned around, looking hopeful. “Yeah?”

“We’re over.”

Sofia’s face went pale, and her voice shook. “W-what? Why?”

“Because I said so,” he replied coldly, his patience snapping. “Pack your shit and leave.”

Tears welled up in Sofia’s eyes as she stood there, stunned, before she quickly left the room, crying.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

We got back to the house,I was still processing everything that had happened. JJ and I were quiet about it, both of us not wanting to bring any of that drama to the night.

Everyone was already getting comfortable outside, smoking and drinking as usual. It was like nothing had happened, and for a little while, I let myself get lost in the fun. JJ was by my side, as always, his arm draped around my shoulders or pulling me into side hugs. He’d whisper jokes in my ear, making me laugh and forget the mess of emotions swirling inside of me. We drank, we smoked, and for a while, everything felt right.

Before long, everyone was asleep. I could hear the soft breaths of the others in the hammocks, the sounds of a peaceful night settling in. But I wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet. I stood up, slipping quietly past everyone, making my way inside to go to the bathroom.

I hadn’t noticed JJ was still awake until I turned around at the sound of footsteps behind me. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him standing there in the hallway, a look of quiet intensity in his eyes.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his voice soft, almost teasing.

“It’s fine,” I smiled, though there was a sudden flutter of something else in my chest, something I couldn’t quite name.

I tried to open the bathroom door, but before I could, JJ was there, stepping closer, his hand on the doorframe as he leaned in. His lips crashed into mine, deep and urgent, surprising me. But before I knew it, I was kissing him back, my body responding to his in a way I hadn’t expected.

He pushed me back against the wall, his hands roaming, fingers pressing against the soft fabric of my clothes as he kissed me harder. It felt different than anything I’d ever experienced—intense, full of raw energy. My breath hitched as he moved even closer, the heat between us building.

Without saying a word, he scooped me up, carrying me effortlessly upstairs, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as I pressed against him. He kicked the door shut behind us, locking it with a quiet click that seemed to seal us in, alone in this moment.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

@thepopcultureaddict @lovrsin @heartsforrafecam @aerie717 @4ria790 @idkimagines @trapistani @ravngers @stardrewkey @poisonedsultana @toterry @esquivelbianca @rrosiitas @izurelia @faephoria @alayaaaahhhhhh @effyssky @frankoceanluvr11

[chrissturnsw1fe]

SWEETDREAMS

Chris Sturniolo

Warning: none just swearing and pure fluff

Summary: Chris and been a dick to you all day until you finally snap at him and he comes back later to apologise.

Chris had been in a mood since this morning he’s been dry and making you feel like shit all day. You guys have been together for a couple of months now and never had an argument. He’s currently out filming a car video with Nick and Matt hopefully he comes back in a better mood.

He’s been gone around an hour so you decided to message him to just see when he was going to be back home.

* message *

Do you know what time you’ll be home around?

Idk.

okay baby see you soon ❤️

yh 👍🏼

* end of message *

“I wonder what’s pissing him off” you speak to yourself. you wanted to pass time so you decide to clean up and do the dishes and have a shower , once your changed in your pjs you walk down the stairs and hear the front door open to see a very grumpy looking Chris walk in.

“hey baby” you smile at him

He ignores you and walks over to the fridge , wow that was rude you thought to yourself. You walk over to him

“Are you okay you seem angry about something”

“Omg can you get off my dick” he replied aggressively

You was so confused on why he was being like this it was starting to get on your nerves a lot. You was reminding yourself over and over again to not get angry.

“Gosh what’s a matter with you grumpy pants”

You let out a sarcastic comment he should know your joking until his flips on you out of no where,

“God just fuck off you annoying little bitch your always here like just go away and get out of my face”

That drew the line for you and you snapped back,

“You know what Chris I’ve done nothing but help you I clean the house for you because your lazy ass doesn’t. Yeah you go out and film with your brothers of course I’m gonna be clingy I barely see you anymore so fuck you too bro”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes but refuse to let me drop.

“Bro are you for real you seriously just called me bro”

“Yes I did now you take that Pepsi and shove it straight up your fucking ass see if that knocks some sense into you , you rude bitch boy”

You storm upstairs into the bedroom and slam the door shut and just start crying you don’t know what to do, one part of you feels bad , you’ve never snapped at Chris like that before, no you decided your gonna wait for him to apologise.

You go in the shower to release some stress off your back , you brush your teeth and get into your pjs to put a movie on and hopefully Chris would’ve decided to say sorry by then.

It’s been about 2 hours since the argument, you feel your eyes drifting off to sleep you check the time on your phone, it’s 11:32pm, you switched the tv off and nodded away to sleep.

Time skip (Chris’ pov)

I felt so bad for snapping at y/n like that I shouldn’t have said what I did, I check my phone and it’s 2am I choose to have a shower and do the the right thing.

After my shower I walk into the bedroom and see y/n sleeping, I walk over and get into bed,

“Hey baby you up”

She hums in the sleep

“I’m really sorry you was right I promise I’ll be better and I was just having a bad day I didn’t mean to snap at you the way I did please forgive me”

“It’s okay we all have bad days I understand just don’t take them out on me you know you can talk to me about it” she smiles at me

“I will thank you for always being here for me and also never call me bro again I did not like that” I laugh a little

She giggles at me “I won’t but let’s talk in the morning I’m tired”

I nod at her and bring her into my chest

“I love you”

“I love you more”

I smile and kiss her forehead as she drifts back off to sleep. Wow it feels like a weight has been taken off my back.

“Sweet dreams”

A/n: I hope you liked this it was my first fluff I’m open to any requests if you want some dm me.

[mustainegf]

I totally understand if you won’t be comfortable with writing this, but could you write something, where the reader struggles with an ED? James (any era is fine) obviously notices her weightloss, and discovers her purging one night, comforts her, and helps her with recovery? I completely get if you don’t want to write this, but thank you anyway, for all your amazing fics! 💞

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mention of ED, purging, mention of vomiting

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ¹⁹⁸⁷

It was late one night in '87, and the stars outside our small apartment seemed extra dark, as if even they took a cue from our dramas. The city was quiet, but my mind was loud, racing with thoughts that couldn't let me sleep. James had long since taken up most of the bed, sprawled out and snoring like a chainsaw, as he always did after a night out. We had been out with his bandmates earlier, grabbing burgers and beers after their rehearsal. I tried to enjoy it, went along with everyone, laughing and talking; but as usual, couldn't get past that nagging voice in my head telling me I shouldn't have eaten so much.

I waited for James to go deep into sleep, his soft hum of breathing filling the room. Quietly, I slipped out from under the sheets, my heart pounding. I hated myself for what I was about to do, but the shame was just like that itch I couldn't ignore. My feet padded softly across the cold floor toward the bathroom, and I shut the door behind me, trying to be as silent as possible.

This was not something I wanted to be doing. Still, it had to be the only way to undo the guilt, wash away that heavy feeling which could trap a person in their skin. I leaned over the toilet and started to do what I had to, hands gripping the sides of the porcelain, eyes shut tight. Just as I started to groggily stand back up, a creak sounded from behind me. I turned around, my stomach falling. There, in the doorway was James. His face screwed up in a mixed expression of. He didn't say anything at first, he just stared, he couldn't believe what he'd just walked in on.

My heart raced in my chest, and I could feel the tingle of heat rise to my cheeks. "James… I, I didn't mean—"

He shook his head and stepped into the bathroom, softly closing the door behind him. "Babe, what are you doing?" His voice was soft, without any trace of anger or disgust, as I'd feared it might be. He reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. I tried to look away, but he tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"I-" My voice came out hoarse; the words seemed to catch in my throat. "I don't know. I just... sometimes I just can't control it... I don't wanna be fat..."

James exhaled deeply, his fingers warm against my skin. "You don't have to do this. You don't need to hurt yourself like this... and you aren't fat." His voice was steady but with a slight crack, it sounded like he was trying not to break down right there in front of me.

Immediately, my eyes welled up with tears, blurring my vision. "I just… I feel like I have to. It's like… no matter what I do, I'm not enough. Not good enough. Not thin enough. Not… I don't know." I wiped at my face, embarrassed to be breaking down like this.

James hugged me tight, holding me close. He didn't let go when, ashamed and embarrassed, I squirmed and tried to pull away. Instead, he drew me closer still, his gentle circular motions on my back soothing me all the more. "Hey, listen," he whispered. "You're enough. You are so much more than enough. You don't have to do this to yourself. Not for me, not for anyone."

We stood in the bathroom for what felt like forever, him just holding me as I cried into his shoulder. I could feel his heartbeat.

After a while, he leaned back, his hands still on my shoulders. "Have you been doing this... a lot?" he asked softly.

I nodded, my head hung in shame. "Yeah..." My voice was barely above a whisper. I didn't want him to know, yet at the same time, it felt like a weight had been lifted just by saying it aloud.

He nodded, his eyes off mine for a moment before he refocused on mine. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrugged, swallowing hard. "I didn't want you to think I was weak or… crazy."

"Hey, hey," he said, the tone firm. "You're not weak. And you're definitely not crazy. But we're gonna get through this together, okay?" His eyes softened into a warmth that I hadn't felt in so long. I nodded, something small flaring to life in my chest.

After that night, James was by my side every step through recovery. He would leave little notes around the apartment reminding me how beautiful I was, how much he loved me. He'd take me out on walks in the city, not to burn calories or anything, just to feel alive, to remember that the world was bigger than the darkness inside my head.

There were days it just seemed impossible. Days when the voice in my head was louder than his reassurances, and I'd find that old urge crawling back. But every time, James was there. Sometimes with a hug, sometimes with a distraction, and sometimes just with silence beside me, making sure that he wasn't going to go anywhere.

He helped me to view food as other than just calories or numbers on the scale. We would cook together, laugh together, making a mess of the kitchen, flour everywhere and dishes piling up in the sink. He would make me his pancakes on lazy sunday mornings, and though that voice in my head still nagged, it started to fade, little by little.

Slowly but surely, I taught myself to trust again. Not because I was just ready to trust, but because I had learned that I didn't have to be perfect to love, or to be loved, and that I didn't need to punish myself to feel in control. And every time I doubted that, every time that old fear began to creep in, I would look at James, at the way he looked at me, and it was a reminder that I was enough.

It wasn't easy, and I knew that days of roughness would lay ahead. But having James at my side made me feel capable of handling them. That somehow, I was strong enough to press on-to keep fighting for me, for us.

That for now, was enough.