#hmm out of context angst

[eilishsmuse]

no need to persuade

— billie eilish x fem!reader

context. at a dinner party for one of billie’s close friends, she pulls you away for a little bit. little do you know she just means a little alone time.

cw. alcohol, swearing, making out, teasing, no smut (sorry not sorry), billie has her little slutty glasses on, billie is a little cutie patootie

soundtrack. generous – doja cat

fer yaps. don’t be mad y’all but this is a little filler for right now. i’m gonna release the other angst fic on friday 😕

Laughter. Chatter. Music. Food.

It was a nice atmosphere. One of Billie's close friends had invited the two of you over to a dinner party in their backyard, and the two of you happily accepted the invitation.

You sat at the long dinner table, surrounded by many of Billie's close friends, and chatted with them all while sipping on some white wine. Claudia and Finneas were both sitting across from you, talking about a movie night they wanted to have with Billie and you.

A double date, Claudia called it.

As you talked with Claudia, you felt Billie lay a hand on your shoulder, making you tense up slightly.

"Hi baby."

Your voice was gentle and sweet, leaning back to look up at Billie and give her a small kiss at the corner of her mouth, followed by a small smile.

"Hi mama," Billie smiled.

"I'm gonna steal her away from you for a little bit, Clauds."

Claudia gasped in fake betrayal, but nonetheless, she let the two of you go and continued to chat at the dinner table. Billie then took your hand in hers and led you into the house, making small talk, asking if you were enjoying the party or not.

As you answered Billie's questions, she pulled you into what seemed like a library-slash-office situation. Pinning you up against the door softly with a smile, her hands finding your waist and gripping softly.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

A smile plays on your lips as your hands travel to the sides of Billie's face, "Yes. Many times."

There was a comfortable silence, and the only sound was the laughter and chatter from the dinner party.

You let a soft smile play on your lips as you looked at her blue eyes through her glasses, which she'd worn a lot more recently.

"Why'd you steal me away?"

Your hands tuck back a piece of Billie's hair behind her ear. Voice gentle

Billie gave a soft hum as she tilted her head into your hand instinctively.

"Hmm, I think you know why," she murmured, nuzzling into your neck softly, her breath tickling your skin and sending a shiver down your spine.

Her hands moved slightly from your hips to wrap her arms around your waist, holding you closer to her.

A small, quiet giggle left your lips as Billie's lips connected to your skin. Tilting your head to give her better access.

"Just wanted a little alone time with you, baby,"

Billie muttered, her lips now connecting to your neck in a trail of feather-light kisses. They were gentle and innocent at first, but they soon began to get more eager and desperate, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin.

"Besides, everyone was getting on my nerves."

A small hum left your lips as you closed your eyes at the nice feeling of having Billie share some attention towards your neck. Your breathing slowed, and you sighed in contentment.

“You don’t mean that.”

Billie chuckled against your skin, continuing to leave light bite marks on your neck.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," she mumbled, pulling back slightly to pull the collar of your shirt down so she could leave a hickey.

"You just taste really good."

A quiet whine left your lips at Billie's words, and you sighed again. This time your sigh was uneven and your legs grew weak.

"Billie."

Your voice was soft and low, eyes still closed, fighting to open to look at her before the two of you did anything in this office that'd make anyone blush.

Your voice was music to Billie's ears. She loved the quiet whine that left your lips, the heavy sighs you would give in between each kiss she bestowed.

But what she loved the most was whenever you would say her name. The way it slipped off your tongue so effortlessly, like a plea, a whisper for her to take you.

Billie let out a quiet hum at the sound of your voice, and pulled back to look at your face, admiring your closed eyes and parted lips.

"God, you look so good like this, baby," Billie muttered, her eyes roaming your face, watching your chest rise and fall with each breath.

"So beautiful, I'm so lucky you're mine,"

Billie then moved one of her hands and gently traced the side of your face, her fingers running across your jawline before moving to your lower lip.

With the left over courage you had, you got a hold of Billie's collar and pushed her back to a couch that was in the middle of the office.

You walked toward her and straddled her hips, your white skirt hiking up in the process. Hands cupping Billie's face and leaning down to finally kiss her soft, plump lips. Her lips sweet with some fruity flavor, probably the punch they were serving in the backyard.

Billie's mind was in a frenzy. One moment she was being the dominant one, and the next, you had her pinned down on the couch, straddling her hips in that pretty little skirt of yours.

Billie let out a quiet gasp in surprise, her hands automatically finding their way to your thighs, giving them a light squeeze. She could feel the fabric of your skirt riding up as you straddled her, and it took all of her control to keep her mind from wandering to impure thoughts.

But those thoughts seemed to disappear as soon as you kissed her. The taste of the wine still lingering on your tongue mixed with your natural sweetness, and she couldn't help but let out a quiet moan against your lips.

Billie's hands then slowly made their way underneath your skirt, hiking it up further, her cold rings against the soft skin of your thighs.

"Mmm."

The moan that left your lips was soft and eager. Your body was fully pushing itself into Billie's grip and touch.

You tilted your head to kiss Billie better, slid one hand up her head and laced your hand into her hair. Her cap falling off in the process, landing on the floor behind the couch with a small thud.

Not paying any mind to the cap and letting your tongue explore Billie's mouth, wanting and needing more of her taste.

Your eager moan went straight to Billie's core, making her squeeze your thighs again in a desperate attempt to keep her control. But as you pressed yourself against her, and let your tongue into her mouth, all thoughts of restraint went out the window.

One of her hands that was on your thigh quickly found its way to your hips, her grip firm as she pressed you even closer against her, her own tongue meeting yours in a passionate battle for domination.

The taste of wine and your natural sweetness was like a drug to her, and she couldn't get enough. She needed more. She needed all of you.

Without warning, Billie then suddenly sat up, a hand still on your hip and the other on the back of your neck, keeping you close to her.

"God, you taste so good, mama," she muttered against your lips, her voice low and raspy, "can't get enough of you,"

A moan left your lips and reverberated against Billie's lips at her words. Your hips bucking into her lap harshly in search for any friction.

Billie then began to plant kisses along the skin of your jawline and neck, working her way down to your collarbones.

"You're driving me crazy, baby," she muttered again, giving the skin of your collarbones a gentle bite, "you just look so good in this damn skirt."

A loud smack was then heard throughout the room as Billie's hand came in contact with your ass.

A half whine and groan left your mouth, throwing your head back softly and pushing Billie further into your skin.

At the sound of your whine and the feeling of you pushing yourself against her, Billie let out a quiet growl.

"You're such a tease," she hissed quietly, nipping and sucking on your collarbone, her hands still exploring your body, finding the soft flesh that lay underneath your skirt. Squeezing.

Billie's hands were everywhere. It was like she couldn't get enough of you, like she needed to touch every inch of your skin.

"Such a good girl, baby," she murmured against your collarbone, "so perfect."

“Dinner’s ready!”

The loud voice was heard from the backyard and caused both Billie and you to stop your actions.

A soft laugh left your lips at both of your reactions, cupping Billie’s face gently.

Billie groaned at the sound of her friend's voice, her head dropping to your shoulder in frustration.

"Do we have to?" she muttered, her voice muffled against your skin.

You lifted Billie's head off your shoulder and gave her a small smile, leaving a gentle kiss on the corner of her lips.

"Yes. I'm hungry."

Her lips were red and slightly swollen, her clothes were slightly ruffled, and her glasses were crooked and not fully on her face like they were supposed to be. The sight made you giggle and you carefully fixed the glasses on her face.

"But I'm still hungry too," Billie mumbled, her voice still whiny, but a small smile began creeping on her lips.

As you fixed her glasses on her face, Billie just sat there and let you, her eyes watching your every move. She then looked back up at you, and let out a quiet sigh.

"Damn it, I'm hungry for you."

You shook your head at Billie with a smile, rubbing her cheeks with your thumbs absentmindedly.

"You can wait till after the party."

Billie huffed at your response.

"That's too long," she whined, tilting her head and pouting slightly, "I can't wait that long. I'm starving."

"Shut up!" You exclaimed with a loud laugh.

You got off her lap and extended your hand for her to get up too and follow you back to the party.

Billie groaned and rolled her eyes, pouting a little but took your hand anyway.

"You're no fun," she grumbled playfully, standing up.

Billie reluctantly took your hand, letting out a final sigh.

"Fine. But as soon as this party is over, I'm absolutely ravishing you."

A laugh left your lips as you leaned to kiss Billie.

"You're such a weirdo."

Billie chuckled at your comment.

"Maybe. But you love me."

She intertwined her fingers with yours, and began to lead you out of the library-slash-office and back to the party.

‧₊˚✩彡

fer yaps!!!

amoooooo!!! 😫

[222col]

is it casual now? | part 2

★ patrick zweig x reader ★ part two of this - based on the song 'casual' by chappell roan ★ 5.7k ★ 18+ | inc: angst, smut, fluff, f oral, unprotected sex, choking, spitting, breeding, smoking, drinking, drugs ★ an: patrick is a college student & also has a sister for context

your grades had slipped, your drinking had gotten worse, your body count had gone up. your focus and energy stripped away from you in one conversation with patrick zweig. you were smoking out your dorm window, rather than just usually at parties. going through bags of weed alone, rather than at the park with some friends. you faked smiles and acted like your world wasn't shattered the minute patrick left you dorm room all those months ago. your friends hadn't noticed how badly you were struggling, putting on too good of a facade for anyone to dig past. you hadn't seen patrick once since he left, not even at parties or around campus. one of your friends heard he'd dropped out of college, but you didn't know how true that rumour was, although you wouldn't put it past him. he never was too interested in classes, more the parties and the tennis. he'd told you once that college was his parents' idea, not his. but, you still couldn't bring yourself to believe that he may have well and truly left.

patrick was on your mind often, when you'd find an t-shirt of his in your laundry, or someone walking past you was wearing his cologne. you'd blocked his number the morning after he left, knowing you'd probably drunk call him if you didn't delete it. his sister calls you sometimes, asking about college, telling you about school, but she never mentions patrick. neither do you, you don't want him to find out you're asking about him. can't face the embarrassment of him thinking you're still pining over him. you always end her call and immediately roll a joint, needing to numb the pain after remembering patrick's actions.

as another friday rolled around, you began your weekend routine. showering, smoking a cigarette out of the window, towel in your hair. doing your make up at your desk, drinking a few cans of whatever was cheapest before slipping into the smallest skirt and top you could find that was clean in your wardrobe. drying your hair, packing your purse and walking over to whatever fraternity was hosting a party that night. meeting your group of friends, stealing a bottle of liquor from the kitchen and sitting outside in the garden. lighting another cigarette as you all shared the stolen alcohol. "do you always have to show us up?" one of your friends laughs to you, passing the bottle along. you laugh back, rolling your eyes. "i'm not showing anyone up. we're all hot." toking on the cigarette, legs crossed on the plastic chair. all of you gossiping about your weeks, pointing out the cute boys inside and laughing your way through the liquor bottle. stubbing out your cigarette, a blonde boy walks outside. "hey, art." your best friend smiles to her fellow tennis teammate. your breath hitches, half expecting patrick to follow him out, they used to be attached at the hip. but art's alone. "what, no patrick glued to your side?" your friend teases, met with a slap to the arm. "i thought we said no mentioning he who shall not be named." your best friend whispers in her ear.

art laughs at your group, lighting his own cigarette. "no, no patrick. he dropped out a couple months ago, haven't seen much of him since." holding in any form of a reaction to art's words, apart from sipping on the vodka you stole. "hmm, interesting. why'd he drop out?" one of your friends asks, as your best friend slips her hand into yours. "not really sure, he just said he couldn't be here anymore, said it was too hard for him." art replies, pulling up a seat with you all. "the classes?" someone asks him. art shakes his head. "i don't think so, i think something must have happened that he just couldn't get over." standing up abruptly, you march inside the house, locking the door to the bathroom behind you. gritting your teeth, head leaning back against the door, holding back your tears. trying to persuade yourself that it couldn't have had anything to do with you. refusing to let your mind wonder, slipping down the door, sitting on the cold floor. did patrick actually feel bad? could he possibly have left college because the sight of you was too hard for him to get over? your mind racing, trying to ignore all the feelings rushing to your brain. you pull yourself out of it when you hear someone saying your name and knocking on the door.

you see the blonde locks before you realise it's art, opening the door fully and letting him join you in the bathroom. "hey, are you okay?" he asks, as you sit down on the side of the bathtub, art joining you. "yeah, sorry, i'm fine." art tilts his head, looking for the real answer. "is this about patrick? i know you guys used to hook up." you can't hold back the scoff, patrick really did never describe your time together as anything more than a hook up. fiddling with your hands, so anxious to be talking about patrick for the first time in over six months. "you know patrick told me he loved me once, while we were hooking up." you start, eyes glued to the floor. "in the bathroom of a restaurant, while his parents were still at the table." you half laugh, as art breathes out. "then when i asked him about it, after he'd kissed some girl at a party i took him to, he just told me he didn't mean it, and that i was nothing more than a fuck buddy to him." art immediately starts to apologise, genuinely disturbed by his friend's actions. "he left me crying on my bed that night, and i never saw him again." nodding your head as you look art in the eyes. he sighs, stroking your back as he apologises again. "so that's why he left." art breathes out. you shake your head in response. "i meant nothing to him, he wouldn't have left because of me." art's hand stays on your back. "patrick gets scared when real emotions come into play, he runs from them. this time he must have just physically ran away from them." tears well up in your eyes, holding your head back, trying to stop them from falling. "i can't think about that, art. he's gone, he's obviously not coming back. i need to try and move on." you respond, standing up and readying yourself to rejoin the party. "thanks, for coming to check on me, and for listening." art smiles sweetly to you, standing up to follow you out of the bathroom. "anytime." closing the door behind you two as he leans down to give you a friendly hug, before you rejoin your girls outside. distracting yourself with more drinks as you attempt to glaze over what just happened, letting your friends lead the conversations and join in the drinking games occasionally. heading home when the sun starts to come up, stumbling into your room, passing out on top of the blankets.

art wakes up the next morning with one thing on his mind, patrick. specifically how patrick treated you, and why he's been hiding everything from him. brushing his teeth before calling his best friend. "a-art? why are you calling so early, are you okay?" patrick's groggy morning voice answers the phone. "patrick it's literally 11am." art replies, pacing around his room, phone to his ear. "whatever, what's up?" patrick mumbles. "why didn't you tell me what actually went down when you left?" art questions, blunt as ever. "what do you mean? i told you, it got too much." art sighs in response. "yeah, but you never said what got too much." it's patrick sighing now, he'd managed to avoid this conversation for all this time. "it was because of her, hasn't it?" art almost whispers into the phone, patrick silent, art speaks your name through the phone. "you left because of what happened between you, didn't you?" patrick still silent, knowing he had to face the music. "yeah," he whispers, voice low. "i couldn't do it anymore, it was killing me to see her around." art hums down the phone, listening to patrick's confession. "how'd you realise?" patrick questions. art explains the conversation you had with him at the party last night, telling patrick how hurt you looked, how upset it made him to see you like that. "she's not doing good, pat. you really fucked up." art tells him off, still walking circles around his room. "trust me, i know." patrick admits to his friend as art asks him, "do you regret it?"

"very much so." patrick replies, without missing a beat. his voice softening with his reply. "apologise and get her back then?" art words phrased as more of an instruction than a question, hearing patrick breathe out heavily. "it's not that easy, art." art slumps onto his bed, aggravated with his friend. "patrick, if you miss her, get her back. she clearly misses you." his words sharp, letting patrick understand the situation. "she was never mine to begin with." patrick chokes on his words, art's never heard him like this. "yeah, and who's fault was that? just don't make the same mistake again, you clearly really like her." art argues back through the phone. "i love her, art." patrick finally admits, his voice soft and quiet, softer than art had ever heard him. "i know you do buddy, that's why you gotta come home and get your girl back." art finally matching patrick's tone. "what if she doesn't want me anymore, art? i fucked up so bad, and hurt her so much. i couldn't cope if she didn't want me." art can hear patrick's quiet sobs as he cries out the words. "look, i'm pretty sure she's not gonna do that, but if she does, i'm always here, okay? i wish you'd have just talked to me in the first place." patrick sighs through the phone before responding. "i know, okay, i'm gonna pack a bag and jump in the car now." patrick says through sniffles. "i'm gonna need your help with this, art."

waking up, head banging, yesterday's make up still on, your room a mess. typical weekend routine continuing. rubbing your eyes, sitting up in bed, checking your texts through squinted eyes.

hey, do you wanna come watch tennis with me today? ur best friend's crush is playing lol if u wanna bring her along. we're all hitting up the dive bar off campus after

you read the text from art, you couldn't think of anything worse than sitting in the sun on the bleachers watching tennis right now, but you know how much your best friend liked this guy on the tennis team. you also know how shy she is about it, despite everyone knowing about her crush. so you of course, as a good friend, accept the invitation.

yeah sure, what time? :)

art tells you the match starts in a couple hours. downing a bottle of water before calling your friend to tell her the plans then jumping in the shower. putting on some make up, jeans and a tank top, placing your sunglasses over your eyes and heading off to meet art and your best friend. a couple girls from your group sit together on the bleachers, as well as the other tennis players that art knows. "you not playing today, art?" you ask him. "nah, my match is tomorrow." nodding your head as your friend starts blushing at the sight of her crush on the court. the game lasts a little while, your friend's crush ended up losing. your hangover finally disappearing as you all head over to the bar. cramming around a couple tables, the big group of you all share drinks and laughs, discussing tennis and college antics.

"where's my blondie?" that oh too familiar voice comes through the door. your body sinking, looking to your best friend for comfort. your back to the door, hoping, praying that it's not him. art's sat two chairs away from you, smile spreading across his face as he turns on his chair. "tell me it's not him." you mumble, grasping your friends hand. her gaze soft, just nodding her head at you. art's engulfed in a hug, those brunette curls are unmistakable. "oh have i missed that face." patrick's words echo around the bar, everyone laughing at the reunion, still facing away from the two of them. as though if you don't look at him, you don't have to accept that he's actually here. he and art walk over to the bar, catching up and ordering drinks. "i need to leave, i can't be here with him." you start standing up, being pulled back down to your seat. "no, you can't give him the satisfaction. you're staying." your knee bouncing up and down as your favourite drink is placed in front of you with a napkin. you don't have to look up to know patrick placed it there, as he and art sit back down on the table. you sigh, pulling the napkin under the table to read the note.

i would have just text you, but you blocked my number. meet me at the park at 10pm?

scrunching up the napkin, you place it in one of the empty glasses on the table. looking over to patrick finally as you do. his eyes locking on yours, mouthing 'please' to you across the table. you roll your eyes and turn back to your friend, telling her what the note said. "you're not going." she instructs you as you sip on the drink patrick bought you. "i know i'm not." you say, eyes drifting back over to patrick who's deep in conversation with all the boys who play tennis. "would you kill me if i did?" you breath out. "yes. yes i would." she laughs, your head falling on to her shoulder. "you're gonna go, aren't you?" her tone is soft, you can feel her shaking her head. "yeah, i am." she simply pats your head. "you're a lost cause." she laughs, the two of you reentering the groups conversation. all the boys at the table gushing over patrick, leaning on his every word, all of your friends are weary of him, subtly giving him dirty looks, smiling at you whenever they do. patrick commands the room, his charm working on everyone at the table, as it always has.

everyone finishes up their drinks around 9pm and heads home, your best friend following you back to your dorm. brushing your hair and reapplying your make up, picking up a hoodie from the floor and slipping it over your head. "just be careful, okay? don't believe everything he says, i'll wait here for you until you get back." your best friend tells you, hugging you before you leave. "and whatever you do, don't fuck him!" she shouts as you close your door behind you. your heart is in your stomach as you walk towards the park on the edge of campus, the path lit by streetlights in what would otherwise be complete darkness. hands in the pocket on your hoodie as you see the park in sight. and there he is. leaning on the wall by the entrance, a toothy grin plastered on his face as he sees you approach. smiling slightly at him as you stand before him. "i'm so glad you came." patrick says sweetly. "why did you ask me here?" you ask, following him as he leads you to a bench in the corner of the park. "this is where we first kissed, did you know that?" he says, the two of you sitting down, his arm resting on the back of the bench behind your head. "mmm, didn't realise." you lie, of course you know that. you've spent hours on this bench in the time he's been away, journalling, listening to music and only sometimes crying.

"we walked here after the party i met you at, we sat here on this bench and talked for hours, before i finally got the courage to kiss you." you scoff at his words, lifting your legs up onto the bench to sit cross legged. "you didn't need courage patrick, i've watched you kiss a girl after two seconds of meeting her." his fingers are inches away from the back of your neck, desperate to touch you. "that's different, you were different." you're shaking your head now, hands reentering your pockets. "i liked talking to you, i hadn't felt like that with someone i wanted to kiss before." he brings his leg up onto the bench, directing his body to you. "oh wow, you were actually interested in what i had to say, that's so kind of you." patrick says your name. "please, this isn't what i asked you here to talk about." his hand fiddling with the hem of his jeans. "well what did you want to talk about, patrick? because i don't have much to say to you." you return, your body shifting to the same position he's sat. finally looking at him, a smile spreading on his cheeks as you do.

it slowly fades as he begins talking. "art told me what happened at the party last night, he called me this morning cussing me out for how i treated you. telling me he knew why i ran away now." your head dips, looking down to your lap. "and he's right, i treated you awfully. you didn't deserve it, i was a piece of shit." he laughs, lifting up your chin to look you in the eyes. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. it was one of the worst things i've ever done, leaving you like that." his hand stays on your face, stroking your cheek. "and it is why i left, i was scared. because i did mean it, what i told you in that bathroom." your lip quivers at his words, desperately trying to not fall for his games. shaking your head and moving from his hand. "you're just saying that to get what you want." you tell him, eyes welling up. "i'm not, i promise you. i'm telling you because it's true, i was scared and stupid and thought i didn't deserve you." his eyes honest, his leg bouncing, hands fidgeting. "i tried to stick it out, but every time i saw you around and at parties, i couldn't handle it. i couldn't deal with how i felt, and how i let you slip through my fingers." quiet tears from your eyes, his hand moving to wipe them away. "so i left," patrick continues. "i went back home and tried to ignore how i was feeling, but when art called me this morning, i realised it didn't work. because," patrick takes a deep breathe. "i love you."

more tears fall down your cheeks, gulping before you think about speaking. "you hurt me so much, patrick. hearing what you told your friends about me, having you tell me to my face how casual it was after you told me you loved me during a weekend meeting your parents." his fingers tangle between yours, too hurt to move them away from his. "i thought i was the stupid one, for believing you could think of me in anyway that wasn't just some girl you fuck." his eyes welling up now too, listening to you intently. "and i'm still being the stupid one, coming here and meeting you the second you come back, because i missed you so much and i love you." you barely recognise that you're saying the words until it's too late. your lip between your teeth, watching the tears fall down patrick's face. "you do?" he smiles through the tears, laughing as you gently hit him on the arm. "of course i do, you idiot."

his fingers grasp hold of yours tighter now, wiping his tears on his sleeve. "i can't believe you've got me here crying, confessing my love to you." he laughs through his sniffles. "i know, what's happened to the patrick zweig that didn't care about anything apart from tennis and art donaldson?" you laugh, wiping your own tears from your cheeks. "shut up." he laughs at your words. "i know i've got a long way to go to get you to trust me, but i really care for you, and i really wanna give this a go." patrick says, his hands still fidgeting with yours. "my best friend is going to kill me." you laugh back at him, hand caressing his cheek as he leans into your touch. leaning towards you, meeting him half way as his soft lips crash into yours. pulling your body towards him as your lips move in unison. "you look really hot in my hoodie, by the way, cute that you kept it." he whispers against your lips, snapping your head down to the jumper on your body. realising 'stanford tennis' is printed on the centre, bursting out laughing. "oh my god, i didn't even realise, i just picked a hoodie off the floor before i left." hiding your face in his neck as he pulls you into his arms, holding you there for a short while. breathing in your scent, hands balled around the fabric of your hoodie, not wanting to let you go.

your name leaves his lips as he gradually releases you from his grasp. "i really am so sorry, you know? i'll never get over how much of an asshole i was." you smile to him, moving onto his lap, arms snaking around his neck. "i know, it's a good job you're so charming, otherwise there'd be no coming back." you laugh to him, patrick laughing softly in response. "can you actually admit that you remember this bench, now you're not as angry with me now?" he jokes, tickling your sides. "patrick, we literally had sex on this bench that night, how could i forget?" the two of you laugh into each others bodies. "god, you're actually my dream girl." patrick utters, blush creeping onto your cheeks, leaning down to kiss his lips. "shall we go home?" you ask him, standing up from his lap, holding out your hand for him. smiling sweetly as he laces his fingers through yours, following you back to your dorm. unlocking your door as patrick stops you before you push it open. "i just wanna say, i promise to never make you feel the way you did last time i was in this room, ever again, okay?" he tells you, hands holding yours, pressing small kisses to your knuckles. nodding your head softly at him as you enter your room.

"oh, i am going to seriously kill you!" your best friend laughs out, completely forgetting she had offered to wait at your dorm for you while you went to meet patrick. jumping up off your bed, she laughs and shakes her head at you, patrick attempting to hide behind your smaller frame. "i know, i know. but-" you start, cut off by her words. "and you, patrick zweig!" his hands up in defence, smirking at her words. "don't get me started on the torturous acts i will do to you if you hurt her again." your best friend continues, half laughing, half serious as she makes her way to your door. "i'm sorry, he just-" you try again to explain yourself, her cutting you off again. "i trust you, whatever makes you happy, girly. call me tomorrow and tell me everything!" she tells you, closing the door behind her.

sliding your shoes off your feet, patrick follows suit. the two of you discarding your hoodies to the floor, patrick sitting down on the bed, pulling you on top of him. laughing as you fall onto his body, knees either side of his thighs. his hands caressing the bare skin on your arms, placing soft kisses to your neck. "i've missed you so much, missed your skin, your smell, your lips." he mumbles, before placing his lips onto yours. grinding against him softly, arms snaking around his neck, tongue slipping into his mouth. soft breathing and quiet moans slipping through the kiss, the denim of both of your jeans grinding against each other. "are you already hard?" you giggle into his mouth, feeling his boner underneath you. "shut up, it's been a while." he smirks, slipping your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently. "you're seriously telling me you haven't slept with anyone else in all this time?" you ask, hands slipping under his t-shirt, stroking the skin on his back. your lips wrapped around his earlobe, flicking your tongue over the skin, small groans falling from patrick's lips. "couldn't do it, couldn't even think about it. just wanted you." he speaks, eyes closed, distracted by your mouth on his jaw. his hands on your hips, grabbing the skin, guiding your movements against him. "god, where's the player gone?" you tease, sucking on the skin of his neck. "i'm a changed man." he smirks, lifting you up, throwing your body down onto the bed, giggling as you land.

pulling his t-shirt over his head, smiling down at you as he climbs on top of you. lips against yours, only pulling apart as patrick pulls your tank over your head. smirking as he notices your lack of bra, his big hands grasping and groping your exposed chest. lips continue attacking each others, reaching between you to undo the top button of his jeans, pulling down the zipper. using your feet to push the jeans down his body. patrick does the rest of the work for you, pushing them down his legs with his boxers, throwing them across the room as you remove your own jeans. patrick's mouth kissing down your stomach, pulling down your underwear with his teeth. heavy breathing filling the room, tension growing, along with your wetness. kicking your panties off your feet as patrick spreads your legs apart, kissing down your thighs, stomach against the bed as his curls disappear between your legs. your back arched, head flung back as patrick's lips leave kisses on your sweet spot. mewling at the feeling, grasping his hair as his tongue flicks back and forth over you. "fuck- i've missed the taste of you." patrick moans against you, causing more profanities to escape you. licking one last line through your folds as patrick kisses his way back up your body to your lips.

teasing you as his cock rubs against you, pushing himself in an inch before rubbing his tip against your clit once more. "jesus, patrick, please fuck me." you beg him, chest rising and falling. "well, seen as in you asked so nicely." he smirks, pushing in, bottoming out. loud moans leave the both of you, patrick grabbing the back of your thighs, pushing your legs against your body. his knees either side of your ass, fucking in and out of you at speed. sloppy kisses against your feet and ankles as sweat slicks his curls to his forehead. sheets balled in your hands, brows furrowed as patrick's name repeatedly falls out from your lips. dropping your legs down as patrick's body weight falls on you, his hands squeezing your waist, pulling you onto him as he pushes himself into you. wet kisses muffle the moans coming from the both of you, tongues gliding against each others. one of his hands moving around your throat, causing your eyes to roll back, signature smirk forming on his lips. "so pretty like this, baby." he utters, moving his free hand down to thumb your clit. "fuck- missed you so much." you confess in your fucked-out state, words coarse due to patrick's hand around your neck. "christ, missed you too princess, missed this pretty pussy too." mouth wide open as patrick's pace increases, eyes not leaving each others, a glob of patrick's spit landing on your tongue. the noise from you has patrick shivering, groaning as he watches you smirk and swallow. "fucking hell, you're perfect. christ, i love you." patrick moans, hand slipping off your throat, clawing at the fabric next to your head.

"i love you- fuck i'm close." you whimper, scratching lines down his spine. "me too baby, shit, fuck-" his hips slap against you a few more times, thumb still rubbing circles on your sweet spot as patrick's thrusts stop, his cum filling you up, painting your walls as your orgasm washes over you. both mumbling each others' names, riding out your high before patrick's body falls onto yours, sliding out of you. your bodies awash with each others' sweat and spit and cum, breathing together as one. patrick falls off to the side, turning to face each other on the bed. giggling at each other, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek as you pull his body closer to yours by his waist. smiles not leaving your faces. "i love you, you're so perfect." patrick mumbles, breathing starting to calm. kissing the tip of his nose as you reply. "i love you too."

patrick spends the week at your dorm, spending every minute he can with you. only darting off to see art during your classes, but making sure he's there to pick you up and walk you home when you finish. going on dinner dates, helping you study, bringing you to tennis with him and art. he hates being away from you, fingers always laced through yours when you're out and about. this week of domestic patrick shows you how far he'd go to get you to trust him, wanting to prove to you that you really do mean everything to him. slowly, but surely, the trust was coming back. meeting art for lunch after your day of classes, the three of you sit and laugh your way through your food. "are you guys coming to the party tonight?" art asks, mouth full of food. it's the one thing you've been scared about. patrick and you had been enjoying your time in your bubble, no real outside influences penetrating. a party with patrick filled you with so much anxiety, knowing how the last one went down. "oh yeah, sure, we'll be there." patrick answers for you, his hand on your thigh.

anxiously getting ready, patrick playing music as you pregame your way through your make up. slipping into a tiny dress, putting your shoes on your feet, asking patrick to put your necklace on for you. looking at you through the mirror as he does, placing kisses on your neck after putting on your necklace. "are you trying to kill me?" he chuckles, zipping up the fly of his jeans. "what do you mean?" you laugh back, packing your bag with your things. "you look so so good, baby." he smiles, pulling you to his lips. "let's go, princess." patrick instructs, lightly smacking your ass on the way out. patrick's engulfed in commotion as the two of you enter the party, by those who hadn't seen him back on campus, his hand never letting go of yours. "i'm gonna go find my girls, i'll find you soon, okay?" you tell him, kissing his cheek as he nods to you, being pulled into the kitchen by the boys. finding your friends hanging around on couches, whistling and complimenting you as you join them. "patrick's still here then, hey?" one of your friends tease you, smirking as you steal her bottle of tequila. gulping some down as the questions come flooding in. is he staying at art's? are you two fully back on then? is it official now? is he re-enrolling?

"oh my god girls, is this twenty questions?" you laugh, swigging down anther gulp. all their heads tilted, waiting for the answers. "patrick's been staying with me, we're doing well but not official no, and he doesn't know yet." you finally breathe out, passing back the liquor. multiple oohs and awws leave your friends mouths, before the tennis boys all join you. squeezing onto couches and piling on the floor as more partygoers join you. "truth or dare!" someone shouts out, everyone nodding in agreement. the big group of you go round playing the game, crushes being revealed, shots being taken, all drinking as you go. "patrick zweig, truth or dare?" one of the boys you've not seen before asks him. "dare, obviously." patrick laughs, sipping on his beer across the room from you. "i dare you... to make out with lucy." the group erupts, reactions mixed. gulping down the frog in your throat, chewing the inside of your cheek. "no." patrick states, shaking his head. "no offence obviously, but i've got a girlfriend." patrick smiles smugly at you, feeling the flush on your cheeks, sipping on your own drink. everyone whispering at patrick's words, as your best friend speaks out. "oh, do you?" she laughs, her head leaning against your knee as she sits on the floor next to you on the couch. "yeah, do you, patrick?" you ask, smirking at him. "you know i do." he laughs across the room, winking at you.

the crowd gradually disperses, patrick nodding you over to him, the two of you heading outside for a smoke. "girlfriend, huh?" you ask, as he lights both your cigarettes. patrick smirks, pulling you into his side. "well, you are, aren't you?" he says, kissing the top of your head. "news to me." you tease him, smirking through your cigarette. patrick says your name, head tilted. "well, you never asked." your eyes looking away, smug as you toke the cigarette. "will you please be my girlfriend?" patrick smiles, pushing your body against his. "hmm, i guess it would be a bit embarrassing if i said no, everyone in there already thinks i am." you continue to tease him. "please be my girlfriend." patrick repeats, laughing through his words. "of course i will." you finally give in, his lips latching on to yours. "i can't believe you did that." you laugh into his neck. patrick just shrugs in response. "i told you, i don't wanna hide how i feel anymore, i'm a taken man!" patrick chuckles. the two of you finish smoking, heading back into the party. patrick pulling you onto the floor where everyone has started dancing, his arms around you, hands resting on your ass as the two of you dance with each other. "hottest girl in the world." he mumbles into your ear, placing kisses below your earlobe. "hottest boyfriend in the world." you mutter back to him. "don't think i'll ever get over hearing you call me that." he states, smirking down at you before kissing your cheek. "i love you."

[daydreams-after-dark]

Free Use Jail Cell, Part 6

MDNI // 18+ content

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader

Premise: you're arrested and held for 24 hours by 8 police officers at the local police station / reader has her fantasy play out.

Word Count: 3.8k approx (part 6)

Chapter Summary: You are at the mercy of Chief Chan and Officer Felix.

A/n: The time has come! Finally the Aussies have their way with y/n. I know so many of you have been hanging out for this chapter, sending messages and comments, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I know it was a long time coming.

Two things I need to mention, though. The first, I forgot Minho was a detective in the last chapter and called him 'officer' (do you think he'd be a dear and punish me for my mistake?), and two, I mentioned his clothes got soaked in the shower, but nothing about him changing into dry clothes. Let’s just pretend he did.

CW below the cut.

CW: where do I start? Frisking innapropriately, vaginal and anal fingering, photographing of injuries, pinching a nipple, spanking with a belt, handcuffs, bloody lip, hole inspection, crude language about how swollen and how much it's going to hurt, spit roasting, oral sex (m rec), cum eating, cream pie, size kink, name calling (cockslut, whore, babygirl, good girl etc, multiple orgasms, brief breeding kink, rough sex, soft dom moments from Chan and Felix, double vaginal penetration, color system (all green for go ahead), aftercare, angst (you'll see why).

>>>>>>>>

The time arrives for you to finally visit the chief and one his officers, Felix.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Minho says as he does up the last button on the oversized shirt he’d helped you into.

You nod. You’re ready, but nervous.

“Now, remember your color system, your safe word. You don’t have to do anything you don—“ he stops abruptly, coughing awkwardly as he realizes he sounds far too concerned than he should.

Flustered, he clenches his hands into fists and steps back from you.

Again, just like earlier, your heart flutters for just a brief moment, and you swallow hard. You can’t understand it. This is definitely not the context to be feeling things.

Detective Minho walks close to your side as you make your way to the Chief’s office, a protective hand on your lower back.

“Just knock and wait for them to answer.” He says stopping at the door. “Make sure you’re a good girl for them, okay?” He leans in to your ear. “I can’t wait to feel you again later.” Your eyes widen and your cunt clenches, but he walks away like he said nothing at all.

Knock knock.

You tap on the door and wait.

You only have to wait a brief moment before the door opens and you see Office Lee. Felix. He gives you a big, beautiful smile and ushers you into the office.

You’re taken by surprise when you’re immediately spun around and your chest is pressed against the wall beside the door.

“Gotta frisk you, love.” Officer Felix says sweetly. His hands are firm and deliberate as he pats over your shoulders and arms, the down the sides of your body.

“You’ll need to step a little wider, please.” He whispers in your ear.

You part your legs and his hand immediately drags up your inner thigh to cup your pussy, sending tingles through your body. You lean your head against the wall and let out a shaky breath.

“Need to do the internal now.” He says low and slips a finger deep into your heat. You squeak at the intrusion, but it turns to a low moan when he slowly drags his finger in and out of you. His fingers are expert, knowing exactly where that sweet spot is inside you. You rock back against his fingers and moan again.

“Hmm,” he says, “looks like you’re hiding a lot of creaminess here.” He reaches around, offering his cream-coated finger to your mouth. You open and let him slip it inside, pressing it against your tongue, and you suck it willingly.

“Now for the other pretty hole.” There’s a strain in his voice as he snakes his other hand underneath your shirt to find your ass. You whimper around the finger in your mouth as he presses his other against your hole.

The ring of muscle offers little resistance, and the tip of his finger pushes past the rim. Your eyes squeeze tight and your hands press into the wall to steady yourself as he begins to press his finger in further. Although your ass has already had plenty of things done to it in the last twenty four hours, the stretch still feels like a sweet mix of pleasure and pain.

With two fingers scissoring your ass, and a few shoved into your mouth, you’re on the brink of coming. You know that somewhere in the room Chief Chan is watching, even though you didn’t get a chance to see where he was.

Your moans are muffled from Felix’s fingers, and your cunt is leaking arousal down your inner thighs. You feel like a mess and they haven’t even started yet.

Your legs tremble as your pussy clenches around nothing, and you come, pathetically, just like that.

Felix removes all his fingers from your ass and your mouth, and wipes them on your shirt. “Good girl. Now we need to take photos. Come.” He grabs your arm and guides you to turn around.

This is the first time you see the room. It really does look like a Police Chief’s office, with a long, low coffee table surrounded by armchair couches.

At the far end of the room is a large timber desk, and sitting on the edge of the desk is the Chief. Chief Chan.

“Y/n.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling, his expression devilish. “Now you’re going to be a good little prisoner for us, yeah?” He stands up only to take a seat in the couch at the head of the coffee table. “Gonna let Officer Lee here take some good photos of your injuries?”

He settles into his chair. “Strip.” He commands.

Your hands tremble as you unbutton your shirt and let it fall to the floor, leaving you bare for them.

“Fuck.” Chan mutters under his breath. “So perfect.” He swallows hard. “Felix, get started.”

Felix pulls a set of handcuffs from his belt and secures them around your wrists in front of you. “I need you on all fours on the coffee table. Ass towards the Chief. He needs to see all of you.”

You climb onto the table, positioning yourself so Chan can see everything. He lets out a low hum, when he sees the red welts on your ass cheeks.

Felix retrieves a camera from a drawer to the side of the room, and begins to photograph and take note of your injuries.

“Those red welts would be from the paddling she received in the interrogation.” Felix says. Click. Click. “And this cut on her neck, was from Jeongin in the shower.” Click. Click. “Note, there’s also some minor marks on her wrists from various restraints.

“What about her nipples?” Chief Chan interrupts.

“Up on your knees, I need to check.” You rise to your knees and Felix reaches out to stroke your nipple, causing you to shudder under his touch.

“They’re a little bruised.” He tweaks the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then pulls away to take a photograph.

You look down at your nipples to see they are in fact bruised. You hadn’t realized how hard Minho and Seungmin had those clamps attached.

Felix continues to examine your body, photographing any marks or bruises he finds along the way.

“Chief. Would you like to do the honors? Y/n, back on your hands and knees. Its time for your ‘hole inspection’.”

Fuck! The words ‘hole inspection’ hit you straight in the pussy.

“Of course. Pass me your torch. Spread her ass wide for me.” Chan says gruffly, his tone laced with arousal.

You sense Chief Chan moving behind you, and the click of the torch. With a hand on each of your cheeks, Felix spreads you wide so you’re on display. You feel a surge of heat wash over you. You’re excited, aroused, and so fucking nervous. You’re loving being vulnerable like this.

You feel a pad of a thumb on your clit, rubbing harsh circles on it. You lean your head on the table, trying your hardest not to whimper. It’s difficult though. Especially how they’re talking about you like you’re nothing but a fuck toy.

“Fucking hell, Felix. Look at how used her cunt looks.” Felix leans in for a closer look, while Chan jams a finger inside your pussy. “Her lips are swollen. So red. Rubbed raw.” He says incredulously. “Chief? How’s she gonna take both our cocks. She looks too swollen.”

“Don’t worry, Lixie. We’ll make them fit. Every inch of us both.” Chan laughs like a crazed man as he tries to spread your hole wide so can try and see inside. “Look at that! She likes the idea of it being a struggle, she’s dripping wet.”

Chan runs a finger along your wet folds, gathering your creaminess. He’s not wrong. This is one of your fantasies. Taking two huge, throbbing cocks in your tight, abused little cunt.

You bite your bottom lip, willing the intrusive thoughts about how sick you must be away, and instead try to remember Detective Minho’s words. “You’re not a sick freak”.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when a loud harsh slap of a belt lands on your skin, hitting you where you were still tender from the paddling.

The sting is almost unbearable, and you bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood.

Another hit with the belt has you crying out, and the third strike has you sobbing loudly.

The fourth lands on your swollen pussy lips, and your knees buckle, causing you slip and land on your stomach.

Chief Chan doesn’t care, and he keeps landing more hits with the belt on your ass.

Felix gently pushes your hair off the side of you face and leans in, kissing your cheek gently.

“Remember you can use your safe word. What color are we on?” He stokes your back awaiting your answer.

Chan pauses his ministrations.

“G-g-green.” You sob. “P-please….need to c-come.” You begin to bawl your eyes out.

“Shh… it’s okay. We’ll take care of you.” Felix reassures you, continuing to stoke your back, and Chan rubs your cheeks gently, before landing three more strikes to your sore ass.

“Time to make the Chief feel good.” Says Felix. “Then we can make you feel good, yeah”. He helps you up but doesn’t uncuff you.

He turns you to face Chan who has resumed his seat in the armchair. He appears to like what he sees. You with tear streaks all down your face, and a bloody lip that’s beginning to drip down your chin, it seems to have an effect on him.

He exhales sharply, his jaw clenched and fists in tight balls on the chair arms. You know he’s going to absolutely enjoy this.

“Come. Down on your knees for the Chief.”

You kneel between Chan’s widespread legs and look up it him through your eyelashes. He leans down and wipes your lip, smearing blood across your face.

“You seem to enjoy pain.” He says low, cupping your cheek. You stare at him wide eyed, holding your breath. “Which is lucky, cos you should have seen your cunt just now. I promised Officer Felix we’d make it fit, but I’m not so sure you’re gonna be able to take it without it hurting.”

You gulp.

“Now,” His grip on your jaw tightens. “I need you to put this pretty little mouth to good use while Felix tries to pry you open a bit, yeah?”

He leans back in the chair waiting for you to begin.

You can already see he is big just from the bulge in his trousers, and when you release it from its confines you can’t help but gasp at the sight.

Enormous. So many thick, pulsing veins, and it's heavy. So fucking heavy looking.

You hold it tentatively in your still cuffed hands, giving it an experimental pump. He hisses loudly when you lean down and lick the slit of his cock head.

“I think you can do better than that.” He growls and grabs a fist full of hair on the back of your head, pushing you down over his length.

He pushes you too deep and you gag loudly around him. But he simply chuckles at your struggle and holds you there.

Felix positions himself behind you, kneeling and pressing his cock to your entrance. He holds your hips steady with one hand and pushes into you. Chan was right, you are swollen, and it is a big stretch just to accept the tip.

Chan loosens his grip on your hair, giving you the opportunity to show him what a good little girl you can be.

You sink back over his shaft, relaxing your throat to take him just that little bit more. He groans in approval and rests his head back on the couch.

Felix fills you inch by inch. It stings, yet it feels so satisfying to be stretched open. You groan, the vibrations from your mouth making Chan shudder.

Felix slams the last of his length inside you, taking you by surprise and making you choke on Chan’s cock.

He then thrusts slowly, allowing you to concentrate on pleasing Chan, but every drag of his cock inside you is bringing you closer and closer to another orgasm.

“I wish all pussies were this compliant.” Felix laughs. “This one’s opening up perfectly.”

He rolls his hips a few times, grinding against you deliciously, then snaps his hips hard, hitting your cervix brutally. He alternates between these actions, driving you crazy, sending you closer and closer to the edge.

Chan lets you do all the work on his cock, watching you drool all over it sloppily. Sucking, licking, gagging. You take as much as you possibly can into your throat. You use your hands where you can’t reach with your mouth. Every now and then he pushes your head down a little more, testing your limits.

“Fuck! She’s so tight, Chief. You wanna feel her? I’d love to come in her mouth if I’m allowed?” He thrusts into you hard. “I’m so close.”

“Mmm, yes, let me fill her little cunt with my cum, you fill her mouth.” Chan agrees.

You’re abruptly emptied of both penises and directed to straddle Chan on the couch with one foot on either side of him, and your back against his chest. He hooks his arms under your thighs and with Felix guiding Chan’s cock to your entrance, you’re lowered onto his length.

You whimper as your body stretches to accommodate him as he continues to fill you bit by bit.

You’re too full. There’s no way in hell you’re going to fit both of them at once.

Eventually, your ass meets his hips and you’re fully impaled on him.

“Fuck, yes. Such a good, tight, filthy cunt.” Growls Chan and he rolls his hips up against you while pulling you down as hard as he can.

You cry out.

“Shh now. Here.” Felix rubs the tip of his leaking cock against your check. You turn your head and open up to take him. He fucks your mouth a lot rougher than he fucked your cunt, pushing himself deeper and deeper into your throat on every thrust. It only takes a few minutes for him to cum down your throat with a pretty moan, his head thrown back.

It makes you clench hard around Chan. “Babygirl likes a belly full of cum? Good, cos she’s gonna be fed a whole lot when all the officers take her at once.” He says, pounding into you from below.

“Open up, love. Show me your empty mouth. That’s it. Good girl.” Felix is pleased when you stick out your tongue and show him just how hungry you are.

He removes the the remainder of his clothes and starts to fist his cock, working on getting it hard again.

Chan stands up, pushing you off his cock and laying you onto the coffee table unceremoniously. He folds you in half, pushing your legs up and then absolutely rams himself into you over and over.

The cold hard wood underneath you is uncomfortable on your back as you’re being fucked into it.

“You like this? You fucking little whore? Hmm? Love having a fat cock filling you up like this?” He leans down and kisses you. It’s unexpected, but you welcome it. It’s rough and harsh, just like his cock, and the pressure inside you becomes too much.

He pulls away and you look down to see just how thick and long he is, and how much he stretches and fills you. Your engorged, pink lips enveloping him as your cunt sucks him in. You whimper as your body starts to shake, and with a loud cry, you drench his cock, clenching around it, coming hard.

“That’s our girl. Yeah milk me. Milk Channie’s huge cock!��� He demands as his eyes scrunch tight and he lets out an animalistic growl as he coats your insides.

He pulls away, panting, sweating, exhausted, and removes his clothes hastily.

Felix is quick to photograph the cum leaking out of you and you hold your legs up to ensure he gets a good view.

“So perfect.” He approves and sets the camera aside. “Y/n. It’s time. Let’s change positions.” He smiles and uncuffs your hands and helping you to your feet.

Chan produces a blanket from a drawer and spreads it out on the coffee table. He lays down on it and instructs you to straddle him.

Holding his cock steady, he pushes inside your still leaking cunt once again. It’s an impossibly tight squeeze, especially after your orgasm, but somehow he manages to fill you to the hilt. You both exhale sharply when he lifts you slightly and pulls you back down again.

“Come here, lean on me.” He invites you to lay against his chest and he wraps his arms around you. “You’re already choking me. I’m not sure I’m going to survive this.” He whispers against your ear.

He fucks you slowly for a few minutes, grinding up into you over and over. Meanwhile, Felix caresses your body, stroking your back, your ass and presses kisses along your back. He spreads your cheeks and curses low at what he sees.

You’re melting under their softer approach, which you know is all part of them relaxing you for what’s about to come.

“That’s it. Good girl.” Cooes Chan.

“Feels s'good.” You mumble.

“Yeah? You ready to take Officer Felix? Think you can do that for us?” He purrs.

You nod against his shoulder. “Wanna be a good girl.” You whimper.

Chan chuckles. “Yeah? I know you’re gonna be. You’re gonna take Felix like a good little cockslut.”

You feel Felix behind you, positioning himself. “Fuck, Chan.” Felix says uncertainly. “She looks so full already.”

“She’s okay, Lix. She’ll take you no matter what. Let’s fuck her brains out. Tear up her pussy.”

You moan and clench around Chan. You’re certain this man could make you come just with his filthy mouth.

You let out a low groan as Felix presses the tip of his cock at your entrance alongside Chan.

“F-fuck!” You cry when his tip pushes past the opening. “S’too much.” You pant.

“Color?” Chan says sternly.

“G-green. J-just slow, please! Slow.”

Chan holds you with one hand around your back, the other gently holding your ass, pulling the cheek aside to help give Felix access. “You guide us, yeah?”

“You ready to try for more?” Felix asks, a kindness in his voice. The man seems so kind, so considerate. You want to have him inside you too.

“Yes…more.” You pant.

Slowly, and under your direction, Felix squeezes in next to Chan. “So tight. Chan, how are you holding up?”

Chan’s voice is shaky when he answers. “M’not gonna last, mate. Pussy’s too good.”

“More…please…make me take it. Wannabe a good girl! Wanna come on two cocks. Just fuck me!” You ramble and nuzzle against Chan.

The stretch is nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your walls are stretched further than they have ever been, and they’re so deep inside you, owning you, making you theirs.

You begin to drool, as they take turns withdrawing and thrusting in a beautiful rhythm.

The men growl and grunt as they work together, eventually deciding that instead of one thrust in while the other withdraws, they are going to thrust in at the same time.

“Oh god! Fuck!” You wail.

The both laugh at your reaction, pleased with themselves.

“Harder! More!” You demand. You need them to really give it to you like they promised.

“Make it hurt!”

Their reaction tells you it is music to their ears to hear that.

“Ready, Lix? You heard her. Babygirl wants it to hurt.”

You almost regret it straight away. Felix’s fingers dig into your hips hard, and Chan digs his feet into the table for leverage.

Together they don’t hold back, fucking you brutally. You feel like your cunt is about to split into two. It’s stretched to its limits, yet it craves more. Frantically, you seek more friction, more depth and your body automatically pushes back down against them seeking more.

Lewd sounds fill the office. Sweaty skin slapping skin. Moans, whimpers and curses of ‘fuck’. Then there’s the wet sounds of your pussy. It’s all so dirty and filthy.

You feel yourself so close to your another orgasm, and when both men move a finger to your ass, you know you’re a goner.

“Think you can take both our fingers?”

“Ngh…y-yes…give it to me.” You sob.

The moment you feel your rim give way, and their fingers slip inside slightly and pulling in opposite directions, stretching your hole wide, your body shakes uncontrollably, and you come hard with a sound that can only be described something raw, something primal.

“Fuck! You feel that?” Cries Felix, slamming into you as hard as he can.

“Y-yeah! Fuck, she’s gonna suck us dry. So tight…. Fuuuuck!!” He groans as he cums, releasing himself deep in you. “That's it, let us breed you like a bitch in heat. Gonna take Lixie’s cum too? Mmm yeah? Gonna suck the cum out of him with your tight, hungry little cunt?”

“Mmhmm… yess…need his cum too.”

“Wanna be bred, yeah?”

“Y-yes….please. Please. Need it.” You’re dribbling all over Chan’s chest, mumbling in confusion. It all feels so overwhelmingly incredible. So good you’re going to -

“I’m fucking coming again!” You cry, clamping down around the the two men.

“Oh fuck! Gonna give you my cum. Gonna-”

Felix’s hips falter as he cums, filling you so much that it begins to seep out around both cocks.

He slips out of your tired pussy, and you already feel far too empty, and then Chan pulls out too making you sob at the loss.

“You okay?” Felix wraps a blanket around you and Chan produces warm towels to clean you up.

You nod and smile, although you’re also bawling your eyes out from how euphoric the experience felt. “It was so good. Thank you for being so…considerate. You know, letting me set the pace. As you know, that was my first time.”

“Of course.” Chan kneels down in front of you. “We take our roles very seriously. Our client’s needs are our top priority.” He wipes a tear away. “Now. You need to stay here and rest. Felix will bring you food. And if you are still up for it, we will commence the final request of yours as soon as you're good to go."

>>>>

Minho listens from the other side of the door. That’s right, you’re a client. Nothing more.

He sighs.

Then why did he listen to that entire interaction? Why did he feel like he needed to make sure they didn’t take things too far with you? Or that they would honor your safe word?

He knows Chan and Felix wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with, yet he stood there, fists clenched, listening to you whimpering? Waiting for an excuse to barge in there.

Fuck! He cards his fingers through his hair.

Why did he feel jealous when he heard the sounds that your sweet cunt made when they were inside you? Why did he want to burst in there and rip them from your body and sink himself inside you?

Why the fuck does he care so much?

He settles his mouth into a thin line. He know why, and it's absolutely not ideal. Not to mention it's against the rules of the job.

He sighs again and forces himself to walk away. He needs to figure out a way that he's going to handle watching you get gang banged, and quick.

>>>>

a/n: Oopies, someone is struggling with some feelings it seems. How did you enjoy this chapter? I really wanted to make it a longish one and really give the the Aussie their moment. Please, if you enjoyed, consider a reblog or leave a comment. I love hearing your thoughts on this series.

>>>>

@jeonginsleftcheek @meilix @itgirlalisaa @linocz @boi-bi-ahaha @frozenpeasworld @grandma143 @milkypinkmimi @bangchansbbgirl @leefelixsslut @privhace @justforreaders @galaxycatdrawz @melochacco @jiwoos-babygirl @lunearta @kavifornia @chuuyaobsessed @iadorethemskz @hyun-hwanj @courtnort455 @brimarie0512 @dwaekkicidal @kibs-and-bits @txa-r @minh0scat @the-sweet-rose @chrizzztopherbang @velvetmoonlght @youcanstayyeah @skzswife @stephanieeeyang @withnia @kibs-and-bits @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @ihrtlino

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin@weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @jiminssluttyminx @dool-set-net @redstayrosie @mintymintmint251 @katsukis1wife @delulustardust @eastjonowhere

[thesecretwriter]

how each moon boy would react to an argument with you (sfw) – part 1.  

summary: what the title says!

warning: angsty angst.

word count: 1.1k

a/n: I’m feeling angsty lately, so here you gooo! ALSO, there’s more context to the situation of these headcanons, but they’ll be revealed in part 2. So don’t go hating on the moon boys just yet.

minors/ageless blogs dni.

Masterlists

part 2

Steven Grant:

“Are you really gonna bring this up now?”

His tone had you looking at him as if he grew another head.

“When else would be a good time to bring this up, hmm? Because I think now is the most appropriate time,”

Steven rolled his eyes as he took off his jacket and sat on the couch facing you.

He had come home from significantly late with no explanation. You found out through social media that he went to an event celebrating Layla without informing you.

“Its late and I’m tired,” he said as he rubbed his face and sighed heavily.

Oh, he is tired?

“You don’t think I’m tired? I understand you have a past with Layla, but the way you go about doing things is exhausting me. All you ever do is talk about her. Everything is Layla this and Layla that,”

You explain to him out of frustration.

“She was right about you,” he says with a hint of sass.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked with furrowed brows.

“I mean that maybe Layla was right about you being controlling. Why do you think I never told you where I’m going. You would’ve tagged along and dampened the mood.

Wow, wow. So, Layla and he talk about you.

“I can’t believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. If you have an issue with the way I am then you should address it to me. Not go and talk to your EX-WIFE about it,” your voice had increased towards the end as you glared at him.

“Its not my problem if you’re insecure,” he said with a shrug.

Each word from him added more cracks to your already breaking heart.

You shook your head at him wordlessly and began to look for your bag and jacket around his apartment.

He sat upright on the couch and watched you with confused furrowed brows.

“What’re you doing?”

Once you gathered your things, you walked towards the door with him now trailing behind you.

“I asked you a question,” he said firmer.

You looked at him with unshed tears and saw his expression soften.

“Leaving,” was all you said before unlocking the door and walking away from him.

Steven cursed under his breath and walked after you.

“Y/n, its late. Stop being ridiculous,”

That ticked your off even further. You abruptly turn around to face him.

“I don’t expect you to be concerned about me anymore. Go ahead and worry about your precious Layla and her thoughts on our relationship,”

You left him standing their speechless as you exited his apartment building. Steven was left feeling an ache in his chest and the weight of his actions and words.

Marc Spector:

“Look at the state of you,”

Were the first words Marc heard upon returning to the apartment. He had been gone for days and you had no way of contacting him.

“Y/n, please. I just want silence,” he said tiredly and sat lethargically on the bed.

“You can’t expect me to not be panicked when you come home with a gunshot wound. Did you even go to a hospital?” you ask in disbelief.

“I can take care of these things on my own,” he groaned and moved to face you.

“Marc, I can’t keep seeing you like this,” you admit to him.

Each time he left that door you would say a silent prayer to ensure he would come back to you.

“You knew what this relationship was going to be like-“

“Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be coming home like this,” you motion to his form.

Marc was growing annoyed.

“This is my life y/n, what do you want me to do?”

Your eyes searched his tired ones as he spoke.

“Exactly Marc, this is your life. I want you to take care of it,”

He scoffed at your words.

“I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life,” he said bitterly.

“That’s not what I’m-“

“Save it, okay? I already deal with enough when it comes to Khonshu. I don’t want to deal with you as well,”

“Deal with me? What? Marc, what have I ever done to make you feel like this? Me being worried about whether your alive or not upsets you?” you asked a string of questions as endless thoughts ran through your mind.

“Just go,” is all he said as he turned his back to you and laid on the bed.

You watch his form, waiting for him to take back his words, apologise… do something – but he just lays there.

You nod to yourself and gather your belongings to leave. It was well into the night and significantly late, but you did as he said and walked out that front door.

He laid in bed with his thoughts, thinking whether pushing you away was the right choice.

Jake Lockley:

You walked into the bar to see him stood rather close to an unknown woman.

With anger running through your veins, you walk up to him and see his eyes slightly widen when he sees your approaching him.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked with a monotone.

“I’ve been waiting for you at home for the passed 3 hours,” you said as calmly as you could.

The woman standing close to him looked surprised at your words but made no move to walk away from the obvious situation.

“You should’ve kept waiting,” he said uninterested as he took a sip from his drink.

You watch him with narrowed eyes as he looked back to you.

“Is this how its going to be? You’re going to act like a total stranger in public and my boyfriend in private?” you asked feeling hurt.

He hummed at your words and sat up straight in his seat at the bar.

“You’re clingy,” was all he said, knowing that those words would hit you harder than anything else.

Throughout your life, you always had someone to be around. Your parents, siblings, friends and now in a foreign country you found solace with Jake spent every waking moment with him when you could. It was normal for you, and he didn’t seem to mind it.

“Clingy?” you asked as you choked back tears.

Jake clenched his jaw slightly before relaxing and putting his arm around the shoulders of the woman next to him.

“You heard me,” he said with a chuckle.

You took in a deep breath to compose yourself. Clearly you were not wanted nor needed here.

“Okay, if that’s what you think. You can have all the space you want from now on,” you said and turned to walk away.

“Is she actually you girlfriend?” asked the unnamed woman.

“One of many, hermosa,” he said under his breath.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin: Chapter 9

Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Klaus pleads his case as you wrestle with guilt, while Elijah attempts to ease your mind the old fashioned way.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, Love Triangle, Infidelity, Klaus Pinning You Against the Wall, Shoving, Neck Kissing, Licking, Elijah Undressing You, Kissing, Massage, Nipple Play, Vaginal Fingering, Lying, Manipulation, Compulsion, Blood, Sweat, Tears, ANGST

Word Count: 3.2k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

His brother? Elijah? Did you really just hear him correctly? No. No, that can’t possibly be true. They look nothing alike! And can vampires even BE brothers, especially if Klaus is over a thousand years old, like he said? Maybe it’s just some weird figure of speech and not an actual term. Or maybe it’s just part of the vampire lore that only the elder insiders know about? You can’t…no… this can’t be happening! Either way, you can’t deny that you’re in deep trouble here. It’s only a matter of time before you get found out, and you can’t imagine that either of them will take it very well.

Time to put that guard up.

“Well, half brother, if you want to get into the specifics, but that’s a story for another time, love.” Klaus’ blonde lashes flutter across your cheek as he kisses the skin of your chin and jawline while you tremble with guilt. He doesn’t seem to be worried about the idea of Elijah right now, so you welcome his continued seduction with a sigh of relief as it helps throw him off the scent. You force a smile as he slowly releases the vice-like grip he has on your wrists only to ghost his hands down your forearms, forcing you to shiver.

“Oh, really?” you whisper as your bloodstream plays host to an increased supply of oxytocin, chemically connecting your body to his no matter how badly your brain wants them to separate. “So do you have, like a whole family of vampire siblings living under one roof?” You jest, only to be met by his thumbs playfully digging into your axilla before squeezing their way down your sides.

“Maybe I do, but it looks like we both have surprise siblings that neither of us knew about until today. It really begs the question though, are there any other secrets that you’re hiding from me, hmm? A husband, a wife, a child?” His mouth moves down to your neck as you shake your head in response, licking the path of your pulse as it continues to throb against his tongue.

“Klaus,” you groan, trying to focus solely on the mental image of your brother instead of Elijah rocking his hips into you, those gorgeously lust-blown eyes of his nearly blacking out completely. That’s something you could never forget, but you shove it into the back of your mind for the time being, anyways. “Klaus, we can’t do this, I’m at work!”

“Oh don’t worry, love. I’ve compelled everyone on this floor to forget that I came here tonight, to forget that you ever left your post.” He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye with a reassuring wink.

“Compelled?” You push your palm against his chest to put some distance between you, secretly hating yourself for cutting off that rush of hormones that set your skin on fire. “What do you mean, compelled?” You need more of an explanation than just the context clues he’s barely giving you.

“Well, if you must know, it’s one of the many gifts that comes with immortality; a sure fire way to get others to do what we want, to cover our tracks.” His hands rest gently against your hips, his thumbs rubbing the skin beneath your scrubs as he explains himself.

“Like mind control?” You had dated some seriously manipulative men in your day, but this really takes the cake. If he can really do that, can they all do it? Can Elijah?

“Think of it more as… the power of persuasion. I could compel your boss to give you a raise right now, Marjorie to give back your favorite pen that she stole, or your patients to stay in bed. But instead I chose to compel every last one of my men to protect you, to keep you safe from any harm that may come your way. You won’t have to worry about any more attacks in the quarter, love, you or your brother.”

Damn. Well, that’s a relief, you guess.

“Wait, have you ever compelled me before?” Your logic finally kicks back in, trying it’s best not to get led astray by his silver tongue and good looks, which isn’t as easy as it sounds.

He pauses and takes a breath, smirking while he chooses his next words very carefully. “The thing I love most about you is that I’ve never felt the need to compel you before.” He weaves his web of words with such eloquent precision, it’s almost impossible to tell if there’s any bit of truth in them. “I’ve compelled people in the past to lie, cheat and steal for me, even to kill for me if the occasion calls for it, but in the end it’s just not as fun as earning their loyalty the old fashioned way.

“Compelling you to act any differently, to be anybody else would just be too boring, and you’re anything but boring, love. You find death just as beautiful and vibrant as I do. It’s apparent in your art and your choice to work here as your patients tiptoe that flimsy tightrope between life and death. You get off on the power you hold over it, the power you have to stop it, to prolong it. In the end, you and I aren’t that different after all.” He strokes your hair affectionately, looking longingly into your eyes as he waits for you to respond.

“You think so?” You reply dumbly as if you’re blown away by his words, trying to really sell the idea of being on board with his ethics of compelling people against their will.

“I left you a note at the nurse’s station next to a cup of chicory coffee from your favorite cafe. Meet me at that address tomorrow night, then we can really begin to flesh out our epic masterpiece… but only if you want to.”

————————

Klaus’ words haunt you well into your much needed shower after work as you try to wash his scent out of your hair and off of your skin. You scrub the wash cloth over your body more times than you care to admit, letting the soap lather up to a ridiculous level before rinsing off in the steaming stream of water. Once you finally reach the level of cleanliness that you desire, you step out of the shower and dry your hair, switching the towel around before wrapping it around your body.

You rotate your scrubs over from the washer to the dryer, making sure to eradicate any of Klaus’ scent from them as well, hoping that Elijah won’t catch on to your surprise visitor at work. You’re sure that he would take the news better than Klaus would, but there’s no telling how merciful a ruthless vampire like him could react when he’s betrayed, no matter how refined he seems so far.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Elijah’s voice is just above a whisper as he enters your apartment through the balcony, your purple curtains surrounding him in the breeze of dawn, staging him to look like your beloved phantom. His suit is littered with streaks of crimson, the truth about his nature staring you right in the face as he slowly takes a step toward you with an outstretched hand.

Perfect timing, as always.

“I just had a really rough day at work.” You mutter, letting your hand instinctively slip inside his fingers as he draws you near. You aren’t necessarily lying to him, but you can’t bear to tell him the whole truth yet either. “That’s all.”

Had he been with Klaus earlier tonight? Had they killed someone together? Compelled them to stay calm, not to scream or run away before they drank their blood until there was nothing left? Had they done it so many times in their endless lives together that they don’t even register it as something bad anymore? How could someone so calm and considerate like Elijah be related to someone so fiercely aggressive as Klaus? Even worse, how could someone like you who claims to be such a good person be attracted to both of them despite it all?

The reality of your situation slowly begins to set in now that you’re free of Klaus’ pheromones, the brutal truth of what you have to do now more obvious than ever. You have to leave. It’s the only logical course of action. If you stay and choose Klaus, you’ll have to deal with seeing Elijah every day, and you’ll be heartbroken as you keep that secret between you… if he’s even kind enough to keep it. If you stay and choose Elijah, you can only imagine what maniacally violent punishment Klaus might dole out to you in retaliation… and to his brother. And if you stay and choose neither of them, well… the odds just aren’t really in your favor, are they?

Damn your libido!

“Are you alright?” Elijah asks softly, placing a single chaste kiss on the nape of your neck as his other hand holds onto your waist, calming your nerves somehow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I umm…” You try to disguise the weight of your dilemma as best you can, all while telling him something along the lines of the truth. “This patient of mine, she doesn’t know how much time she has left. She thought it was just a simple stomach ache, maybe a food allergy or a survivable chronic illness like Crohn’s, but now they’re testing her for something more serious, for something fatal.”

“I’m so sorry.” His free hand undoes the loose knot of your towel, setting your naked body free as he sends the terry cloth falling silently to the floor. “She must be terrified.”

“She is,” you admit, relishing in the comfort of his touch as he navigates his palms over your breasts and belly as if they’re precious jewels to be treasured. “But the choices she’s made up until now can’t be taken back, can’t be erased no matter how hard she wishes they could be.”

Elijah’s lips part as he takes you in, his features softening before shrugging out of his jacket and tie. “Even those of us who live forever wish we could turn back time, that we could take back certain decisions.” He sets his clothes on the back of a chair and unbuttons his collar. “Your job has to be filled with people who are shrouded in regret.”

“It is.” You help him unbutton the rest of his shirt, recognizing that this may be the very last time he holds you in his arms before the truth comes out, before it’s all over. That bittersweet realization fills your eyes with tears that aren’t quite heavy enough to fall onto your cheeks as you look down at his navel before pulling his perfectly pressed shirt off his torso.

Good God, you’re going to miss this. You’re going to miss him.

Elijah takes your hand as his shirt falls to the floor next to your towel and guides you over to the couch, setting you in between his legs with his chest against your back. “And what are your patient’s options? What can she do?” He kisses his questions between your shoulder blades as his fingers massage your aching muscles, releasing the tension in your body the way that only he can. You swear that one of his immortal gifts is the strength in his magical fingers, and you can already imagine how many tears you’ll cry the next few nights in your bed without them. But for now, you’ve got to put on a brave face.

“She could make a drastic life change that might give her a sliver of a chance at survival.” You blink your tears into your lashes before closing your eyes as he continues to knead his thumbs against your skin, replacing your sorrow with a deep somatic pleasure. “But she wonders if it’s too late, if she’s in too deep to even make any kind of a difference.”

“That sounds very bleak, little Lotte.” He rubs his hands over your shoulders and up the back of your neck, collecting your hair at the top of your head to better massage your scalp as you languidly drop your chin to your chest. He grins as your rapid breathing eventually slows to a cool, measured rhythm with each pass of his fingers, the pressure slowly increasing before his hands finally venture down toward the peaks and valleys of your chest.

“I know, I feel terrible.” You mumble as he pinches your nipples, twisting them hard enough for your muscles to tighten back up, ruining all the work that he’d just done to get you relaxed. You lean back against him with a needy moan, your head resting on his shoulder as you feel his heart beating faster, his own arousal grows against the expensive fabric of his pants.

“Why don’t you let me take your mind off of it for a while?” His hand travels down your stomach as he whispers into your ear, sending tingling waves of warmth up your spine as it wastes no time in settling in between your thighs. He kisses your lips with a smile as he feels your body writhe against his, urging him to continue as his fingers take the hint and eagerly glide in between your dripping wet folds, building those waves even taller than before.

“Mmm hmm,” you moan your stuttered approval, suspending your fear for one more night as you practically fall limp in his arms. “I think I’ll let you do that.”

————————

You wake the next morning without him next to you, without his arms to wrap around you with a sleepy groan that you’ve almost gotten used to, without his chin nuzzling into the nape of your neck, pleading for five more minutes in bed with you. Those five minutes almost always turned into ten more of him thrusting inside you, working each and every muscle awake the old fashioned way as sweat dripped down his chest and melted between your thighs and his hips. But not today.

Today starts with you reluctantly opening your eyes, reaching over to the empty spot on your bed that he’d recently filled as his smoky scent lingers on your sheets and pillowcase. You inhale his aroma one last time before forcing yourself upright, greeted at least by a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen and a note next to it saying that he has business to tend to today. You pick it up and sigh with a sad smile, wishing you were awake enough to watch him walk out your door one last time, but decide that it’s all for the best, and get dressed for the day with a heavy heart.

After waiting a few painstaking hours in a cafe down the street for your phone to finally get fixed, you decide to drop by your brother’s place to see how he’s doing, holding your breath in anticipation as you wait for him to open the door after you knock three times.

“Hey loser, what’s up?” Austin seems rather surprised to see you, his expression more tired and worn than usual.

“Oh, thank God!” You wrap your arms around your brother as if your memory of being concerned for his life suddenly returns just by seeing his face. That’s funny, you don’t remember being worried about what happened to him after the night of the attack, but that doesn’t really make any sense, now does it? “I’m so glad you’re okay! I didn’t know what happened to you after…”

“Of course I’m okay, and what are you talking about?” He looks you up and down like you’ve lost your mind, like you have lobsters crawling out of your ears. “And you usually call first before you come over, are you sure everything’s alright?”

“No!” You pause, studying his features to see if he’s attempting to play some kind of prank on you or something. How could he not remember? “My phone got shattered the other night, remember? I just got it fixed.” You barge into his apartment like you own the place, shocked that he even has to ask you about it. Was he feeling alright? Were you?

He continues to stare at you as you wander aimlessly around his living area, completely bewildered.

“You mean to tell me that yours is fine? That your phone survived the attack without even a crack, a dent, nothing?! They roughed both of us up pretty bad that night, I can’t believe you don’t even have a scratch on you.”

“Doing what? And you should talk, you don’t have any marks on you, either, sis.” He seems genuinely confused as he hurriedly shuts the door behind you and locks it behind you. “Look, is everything alright? Did you hit your head or something? Are you talking about the night that we had dinner together? When you ran into your buddy Elijah and I had to walk the rest of the way home by myself?”

“Yes!” You nod, folding your arms across your chest. Now you’re getting somewhere.

He rolls his eyes. “You were supposed to be my designated walker that night, by the way.” He walks over to the couch and plops down with a loud, disappointed sigh, a sound you know all too well. “Thanks for nothing, I guess. I hope you at least got laid, or some free drinks. That guy reeks of money.”

Holy shit, Elijah compelled him to forget everything about the attack that night. It really does work. Fuck, you’re in trouble!

You sit down on the couch next to your brother, looking him deep in the eye. “You really don’t remember anything else about that night, do you?”

“No.” He sits up straight and looks at you solemnly, placing a steady hand on your shoulder. “Sis, what the fuck is going on? You’re scaring me.”

You consider telling him the truth about everything you’ve been through these past few weeks, about Elijah and Klaus, about vampires and witches, but all the sudden you see the benefit of compulsion. You see that wiping someone’s memory of an event or a person isn’t always necessarily a bad thing. It can keep your brother safe and in the dark while the creatures of the night lurk around the corners of the city feasting on the innocent while he remains none the wiser. Maybe it’s better if you leave him like this, to continue on believing only in the things that he can explain with laws and logic.

“Maybe it was just a bad dream.” You whisper softly, looking down at your feet before glancing back up at him. “Sometimes they just seem so real, you know?” You bite your lower lip as a mixture of guilt and futility washes over you, almost triggering those tears to come back with a vengeance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” You take a deep breath and ruffle his hair before standing up from the couch, realizing that you’re on your own with this from here on out. It’s probably better to keep him out of the mess you’ve created for yourself. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Alright, but… don’t be a stranger, okay? And if you need anything, anything real, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I promise.” You hug him before seeing yourself out, walking down the street toward the bus station before everything goes black.

--------------

Tags: @hcqwxrtss123 @hayleym1234 @derangedangel @spnaquakindgdom @natalie668 @arbesa-mind

[mystarsohee]

hate you

authors note: surprise! wrote this drabble in about hmm 30 minutes ... sorry im just feeling angsty right now ( T_T)＼(^-^ ) i just had a random surge to write about ex!mark

genre: angst.

mark misses his ex terribly

it's been 6 months, 27 days, 3 hours, and 23 seconds since you and marks last conversation. in that timeframe, hes probably made the worse decisions that definitely did not help him move on from you.

for context, you two broke up after 2 years of dating. you both ended on good terms, the reason of separation was to focus on your own individual careers and lives. realizing that he was holding both himself and you back from your full potential, mark sat down with you and had a long conversation which resulted with your breakup.

since then, mark feels like he made the biggest mistake of his entire life. he can't seem to move on. he can't bring himself to block your social media. he can't bring himself to do anything that requires him to erase any of the traces you've left behind. you. he feels like you left him behind. your instagram stories full of your friends, hanging out together. it seems that you moved elsewhere to finally fulfill the career you always told him about. oh how he was more than proud of you.

he wouldn't let anybody know that though. nobody would know that he still longed for your presence after all this time. hell, hes planning on taking it to the grave. he masks his everlasting adoration for you by telling his friends that you had a huge argument and broke up after that. he told all his friends stories about how you were being ignorant and distant during the days leading up to it. mark reposts tiktoks onto his story which subtly suggest that hes moved on and hates his ex. obviously all of that is far from the truth, you did none of the things he'd said. he's done none of the things he'd said. maybe hating you's the only way it doesn't hurt.

mark is most definitely still in love with you. but he knows that you'll never come back. you're doing so much better without him. right?

authors note (cont.) : hehe im usually all for angst with a happy ending but i wasn't feeling it today.. i also wanted to try writing something that was non-agere! i hope i did well ^_^ hate you is such an angsty song and since the song released i always think about such gut-wrenching scenarios while listening to it.

pls leave any feedback you have .. im rly nervous posting this even though i wrote it super duper fast

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 9,001 (yeah, she's a beast!) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria S9, post-Negan war, before the bridge Warnings: language (duh, it’s me), violence (no sexual violence), injuries to main character, blood, some kind of dark Saviors shit (not like line-up level dark but kinda fucked), mild angst, Protective!Daryl, hurt/comfort Summary: The war is over, but it isn't all peaches and cream. The Sanctuary struggles to function and Daryl and Y/N struggle with ghosts of their pasts after Rick asks them to take things over there. Deciding they've had enough, they decide to depart for Hilltop but Y/N stays behind for a couple days to help Carol get started taking over. The past comes back to rear its ugly head... A/N: This is an epilogue to the Sacrifice series, but you don't necessarily have to have read all 29 previous parts to appreciate it (though you def should!) [Spoilers (or reminders) for context start here -> -> -> The war is over, Y/N was once one of Negan's wives in order to protect her brother, she went back to Negan to break Daryl out of the Sanctuary, Daryl ends up shooting Negan to protect Y/N when a plan of theirs goes awry and the war ends, Y/N was also shot in the process but survived]

_ _ _ _ _ _

You and Daryl stood off to the side, watching the group of people gather around Rick, flooding the open space on the Sanctuary’s factory floor. You gently touched him on the arm and his blue eyes landed on your face. “Are you going to talk to him tonight?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. I gotta. I can’t—we can’t stay here any longer. I dun want you here either. Bein’ in here, in these walls again, it feels like it’s slowly poisonin’ us…” He glanced at the fresh graffiti someone had sprayed on the wall. We’re still Negan. Saviors Save Us

Your hand slipped down his forearm and you laced your fingers with his. “I know. It’s the right decision.”

“Yeah,” he mused. “Ain’t sure Rick’s gonna agree though…”

“Rick isn’t the one here dealing with all these people, reliving everything every day. It’s too much,” you said. Daryl nodded in agreement.

“Yeah…” Just then, Rick finished talking to the gathered group and there was a smattering of applause and murmuring. You gave Daryl’s hand a gentle squeeze as Rick wandered over. “Good luck,” you murmured.

Soon, various business that needed to be discussed was concluded and the already dim torch and lantern lights on the Sanctuary factory floor were all but put out. Daryl and Rick retreated up to the catwalk.

As they stood side-by-side, looking down at the shadowy, rundown building below them, Daryl sighed heavily and Rick could feel the tension between them. Rick broke the silence first. “So, what’s going on?” he asked.

Daryl gulped and straightened up, looking his friend in the eye. “I don't wanna be the one leadin’ these people anymore.”

Rick’s expression was impassive. “Okay... Why?”

“Bein' here, behind these walls again... It just don't feel right, man. I'm better out there. I always have been. And I’ve got Y/N to think about. After what happened to her in here—with him—”

Rick sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Things happened to you in here too,” Rick said, perhaps realizing for the first time what he’d really asked of his friend, his brother…

“Yeah, well I care more about her than I care about myself. This is where her life was a livin’ fuckin’ nightmare. His wife…” he murmured under his breath. “She wasn’t his wife. She was his damn property. Her brother died here. He destroyed her group just like he destroyed ours. What d’ya think this place reminds both of us of?” He asked, turning sharp eyes to Rick. “Hmm? Did ya even think ‘bout that when ya asked me to come back here? Didya stop to think that ya might be askin’ us to relive some of the worst shit we’ve ever gone through?”

Rick hung his head for a moment, clasping his hands together. A wash of guilt and shame came over him. He hadn’t considered the full extent of it, no. But there was no one else to do the job and so he’d asked too much of Daryl, too much of you. “But you and Y/N have kept this place together. You’ve kept people in line here. We can't just let the Sanctuary fail after everything that's happened,” he said.

Daryl shook his head and paced a small, agitated circle. “Man, s’gonna fail anyway. Nothin’ grows here. It's a damn factory, man. Look, when Negan was around, he needed people to provide for him. It's still the same. Nothin's changed,” Daryl argued.

“It's different now. We give what we give willingly,” Rick retorted.

“And how long's that gonna last? Most of the bridges are out after the big storm. The highway's done. We've scavenged every drop of gas for miles. And we can't make enough corn fuel to run the cars or the trucks. Pretty soon, it's gonna be more than a day's ride from one spot to another.”

“Well, it's on us to figure out how to make it work,” Rick said, leaning forward on the rail again.

“Man, there ain't no ‘us’ anymore. Everyone's everywhere,” he pointed out. “I feel lucky that Y/N and I are even in the same damn place.” He let out another weighty sigh. “That small group we had back in the beginning... plus a few more of the people we picked up along the way, we could do anythin’. That was right. That’s what I know.” Daryl leaned forward beside Rick, chewing on his bottom lip in that signature way.

“Well, you wanna come home to Alexandria, then?” Rick asked. “You and Y/N?”

Daryl shook his head. “No. We'll go back to Hilltop, check on Maggie and the baby.”

“Well, you go, someone's got to take your place here. Rosita and Eugene are headed to Oceanside next. Maggie's sending food, but not people, and Kingdom's got its own problems rebuilding after losing its fighters. If Alexandria sends another person out, I could use the help back home.”

Daryl only let out a small huff.

“We're not together because things have changed,” Rick said again.

Daryl stiffened. “Mm-hmm,” he hummed. His blue eyes turned to Rick again and they were intense. “The thing is, you changed ‘em, Rick.” The tension felt hot and pulsating in the air like liquid mercury. He patted his friend on the shoulder. “But I get it.” And then Daryl took his leave.

On the staircase, Carol backed away as quietly as she could, only to be startled by your voice softly behind her. “Well, that didn’t go great,” you whispered.

Carol turned to face you, her face drawn. “Daryl is right though. Rick shouldn’t have asked that of the two of you after—after everything you went through here. And he should have known Daryl would have a hard time saying no to him.”

You nodded and straightened up, stepping toward her. “Rick’s his brother,” you agreed. “And there really was no one else. But Daryl’s right. We can’t stay here anymore. It’s—it’s wearing him thin.”

“And you?” Carol asked, worried.

You gave her a tight smile and shrugged. But when you spoke again your voice broke. “I’d almost rather be anywhere else…”

Carol nodded knowingly and then grabbed you into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she said. her mind drifted back to her own abuse at the hands of Ed and she felt a swell of affection for you and for Daryl, for both of you taking this on at all after everything… When she pulled back, she cleared her throat, pushing her emotion away. “I’ll—I’ll take over here a while. You and Daryl need to get out. I want to help.”

“Carol—”

“Don’t argue with me. My mind’s made up,” she said firmly.

You nodded. “Okay. Thank you,” you said. “I’m—I’m gonna go talk to Rick,” you said. “Make him understand.”

Carol nodded. “I’ll check on Daryl. Let him know what I’m thinking.”

“Okay. Good idea… Hey—Carol. This is—what you’re doing to help, it’s huge for us. So, thank you.”

She gave you a warm smile and you passed her on your way up the stairs to find Rick. He was still leaning heavily on the railing, clearly in deep thought over his discussion with Daryl. But he turned at the sound of your steps on the metal catwalk and straightened up when he saw you.

“Hey,” you greeted him stopping beside him and also looking down over the factory floor. No one was milling around anymore. Most people had drifted away to bed. “You okay?” you asked, giving him a knowing, sideways glance.

Rick laughed a little wryly and nodded. “Yeah… Just—tryin’ to figure out if and where I went wrong,” he said, clasping his hands together. “Things I’d do differently now…”

You nodded. “You have a lot of weight on your shoulders. Daryl knows that.”

Rick met your eyes again, clearly realizing you’d overhead their conversation somehow.

You straightened up and tilted your head toward the hallway down the catwalk. “Follow me. I want to show you something.”

Rick followed you as you stopped to grab a lantern and then led him down the hallway. This part of the building was mostly empty these days, except for a few people who had carved out some private spaces for themselves. The warm orange glow flickered past many doors and other halls before you turned right and came partially down the next corridor. The nauseous feeling and the heavy pit in your stomach grew as you walked, and before you knew it, your hand was trembling slightly holding the lantern. This place was full of ghosts.

Rick looked at you with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked. The tremble in your hand translated to a shakiness in the shadows cast by the light on the walls and it was easy to see.

“We’re almost there,” you said softly.

You walked in further silence for only another half a minute before you stopped in front of a gaping dark space in the wall, barely bigger than a closet. Rick gave you a questioning look and you lifted the lantern to illuminate it. The floor was filthy with layers of smeared dirt and who-knows what else. “This is where they held us. Me, when my brother and I were captured, and Negan singled me out from my group. And Daryl after the line-up with Alexandria.”

Rick stared at the dirty, dingy space and he could almost see Daryl huddled there in his mind’s eye, wearing that filthy sweatshirt. His brow furrowed and his face contorted.

You pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Your head felt a bit light and foggy. “I—I had the doors that used to be on the cells removed, because—I just couldn’t stand the sight of them closed up like that. I kept—kept imagining Daryl was still in there every time I had to walk past. Or that somehow, I was going to end up back in there.” You glanced over at Rick who was staring straight into the darkness. He watched as you raised your free hand to rub at your bad shoulder, the one Negan’s bullet had pierced. “They took all his clothes at first. Left him in there naked. Cold. Shot. Hungry. Wondering what happened to the rest of you. And the thirst… Then, Dwight humiliated him and they fed him dog food and blasted music to keep him awake. The same song, over and over. Then, they made him work outside in the heat and humidity in that filthy sweatsuit, chaining walkers to the fence for Negan or doing whatever awful chores they could invent. He had to clean up after Negan punished someone, mopping up shit or piss or worse… Dwight made him look at pictures of—of what happened to Glenn and Abraham.” Tears burned in your eyes and Rick’s shut and he dropped his head.

He lifted a hand to wave you off. “I—I understand,” he said in a low voice, his heart breaking. He’d been careless to ask Daryl to come here, too focused on his beautiful dream in the memory of Carl to realize what this would do to you and to Daryl.

“He didn’t want to say no to you when you asked him to come back here. You’re like a brother to him. He didn’t want to let you down even though—it’s literally the last place either of us wants to be.”

Rick sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin. “I don’t have an excuse… I—I shouldn’t have asked it. Of either of you… I just—I was tryin’ to make this all work.”

You nodded. “I know. So does Daryl. But that doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been… We’ve both been reliving our trauma having to be back here. And we’ve hit our limit. That’s all.”

Rick met your eyes again. You hadn’t even talked about yourself, about what you’d been through here in the cell and with Negan after, not really. You’d mainly focused on Daryl. But Rick could guess well enough what it would have been like for you being one of Negan’s wives and living in that constant fear for your brother and yourself, what you’d had to subject yourself to.

He glanced again at that dark space in the wall. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Carol said she’ll take over here for a while,” you said, turning away from the cell and starting back the way you came.

Rick looked surprised but nodded, walking along beside you.

“I’ll—I’ll stay a couple days to get her going here and up to speed. And then I’ll go meet Daryl in Hilltop.”

“Alright,” Rick nodded. “It’ll have to work for now. But I can’t help thinking it’s a patch on the issue and not a fix.”

You laughed wryly again. “Aren’t most things these days? Rick, Daryl wasn’t wrong about The Sanctuary. It’s a resource sink. It doesn’t produce anything. You’re still going to have to square with that one day. I get what you have been trying to do, making peace with the rest of The Saviors, and not all of them are guilty of the awful things that happened during the war. But things are still festering here under the surface.”

Rick looked over at you, concerned. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, about ready to part ways with him on the catwalk again. “You saw the graffiti. Negan might be dead but for some of them, it’s not over.” You gave him one last look. “Daryl and I know you have a lot on your plate, but it’s time for us to get the hell outta here. If we don’t… this place will consume us. We can’t move away from what happened while we’re here. It’s like—it’s like having it shoved down our throats every day.”

You took your leave from Rick then, leaving him again in deep thought. You knew where you could find Daryl, at a spot outside he liked to go where most people wouldn’t be able to disturb him. It happened to be someplace the two of you sometimes went to watch the stars. When you got there, stepping just one foot outside the building, you had to smile to yourself. Daryl and Carol were just sitting together, side-by-side, enjoying a moment after being apart for so long. You decided to leave them to it.

You made your way back to the room you and Daryl had claimed together in a different part of The Sanctuary. You hastily changed your clothes and got ready for bed, knowing he’d come find you there when he was ready. And it wasn’t long before he did, coming in to see you already cozied up in the bed you shared, reading a worn paperback.

You smiled as he came in. “Hi,” you said.

He stopped in the doorway and took you in, giving you a small smile back. “Hey. Sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” Daryl drawled, sinking down beside you on the mattress. “I was out sittin’ with Carol.”

“It’s alright. I know you were. I didn’t want to interrupt,” you said, reaching for a strand of his wavy hair and running your fingers down it gently. “You haven’t seen each other for a while.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling off his boots. “Get this. Ezekiel asked her to marry him,” he said, giving you a conspiratorial look.

You pushed yourself up on the palm of your hand. “Oh my God!” you burst out.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

“Well? What did she say?!”

“Ah… She ain’t ready yet,” Daryl explained.

“Wow.” You thought of Carol and Ezekiel together after the close call at the museum. They were good for each other. “Maybe someday?” you asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm.” His hand came to rest on the graceful curve of your neck. It was cool from the nighttime air. He leaned in and kissed you softly, pulling back just slightly to study the colors in your irises. “Listen—I told Rick—”

“Yeah, I know,” you interrupted him gently. “I could hear the two of you. And Carol talked to me too. She’s gonna take over here for a while.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. So, we can go. We dun have to be here anymore. Figured we can head to Hilltop tomorrow. Check on Maggie and Hershel.”

You nodded and then ducked your eyes. “I’m—I’m gonna stay here with Carol for just a couple more days. Help her get started and settled. Then I can meet you. I’ll take one of the horses.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. You could see that he was getting ready to argue.

“It’s just a few more days,” you whispered, gently grabbing onto the front of his vest. “It’s the least I can do since she’s doing this for us, leaving her family and world in The Kingdom.”

Daryl’s stomach churned a little, leaving him feeling slightly nauseous. “She’ll have Eugene,” he pointed out.

“Barely. He and Rosita are heading to Oceanside next to get the fishery going.”

Daryl sighed heavily and moved back to sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slightly slumped. He was chewing on his bottom lip. You knelt behind him and draped yourself against his back, looping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the curtain of his wavy hair, breathing him in and leaving a kiss on his neck. “It’s just a couple days,” you said again.

He gulped. He didn’t know why, but there was a pit in his stomach. “I dunno…” he mused aloud. “I dun like ya bein’ here without me. Here of all damn places.” His mind went back to that graffiti sprayed on the wall.

“I know. I don’t either. But I want to help Carol as a thank you. And then I’ll come straight to Hilltop.” You moved around to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “Hey—Look at me,” you urged him. “I can handle myself. Or did you forget?” you teased him, bumping into his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know ya can handle yerself. It ain’t that… Somethin’ just—I dunno. Somethin’ dun feel righ’.”

You sighed and nodded knowingly. “It’s never felt right being here.”

“Yeah… maybe tha’s just it. I dunno,” he said finally, but you noted that he still looked slightly troubled. It had been a long day, and his talk with Rick was intense. He stood up and started getting ready to climb in bed with you. You watched the muscles in his back ripple, crisscrossed by his scars, as he pulled off his shirt. You crawled back beneath the sheets and waited until he slipped in beside you.

“C’mere,” he murmured softly to you as he settled into his pillow. You moved into him immediately and he pulled you against him. You tangled your legs with his and gazed into his bright blue eyes. He draped an arm over you and his hand moved to find the hem of your t-shirt before slipping underneath it and pressing against your bare skin, tracing absent patterns on your side, your hip, your back. Daryl leaned in and kissed you, one that was deep and full of wanting.

You felt a pooling of heat expanding in your chest as his lips moved to your neck. Daryl listened to your breathing hitch as he kissed your pulse point and grazed the shell of your ear. His hands wandered over the shape of you beneath the draping of your shirt. In no time, the two of you were completely lost in each other, melting into sensations and quiet gasps of pleasure, bounding hearts and heaving chests, skin on skin. Daryl’s fingers laced between yours, his other hand firm on your hip. Then, after you both reached your blissful highs, you fell asleep in his arms and neither of you woke until the sun was coming up.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You walked with Daryl to his bike and stood beside him as he strapped down his gear, giving him a smile when he looked up at you again.

“Are ya sure ‘bout this? Ya dun have to stay. Carol will be fine,” he said in a low voice. That pit in his stomach had returned almost immediately when he awoke and thought about separating from you.

You gently rested your hands on his sides, stepping in close. “Everything is going to be fine. Go help Maggie. Check on her and Hershel. I’ll see you soon. Okay?”

He looked worried, but nodded. “S’yer call. Two days,” he drawled.

You nodded. “Two days. I promise.”

“Alrigh’…” He leaned in and kissed you deeply, clasping your face and pressing his other hand into the small of your back to pull your body flush against his. You kissed him back heatedly and hungrily and sighed when you broke apart.

“Miss ya already,” he said, breaking contact with you and getting ready to climb onto his bike.

“Same,” you agreed, giving him a tight smile. “Love you,” you added, waiting until the last moment of separating to unlace your fingers from his.

He nodded and studied you, drinking in the view. “You too.”

Then, in a spray of gravel and a cloud of dust he was on his way. You didn’t see him glance back at you over his shoulder before he completely lost sight of The Sanctuary.

You found Carol already on the factory floor standing with Eugene, looking over whatever list of action items were on his clipboard that day. You were absently rubbing your bad shoulder as you came up. It had been aching since the day before. Had revisiting the cell stirred things up? Probably. Carol noticed immediately.

“You okay? Shoulder bothering you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Just a little. The old war wound acting up a bit,” you said with a wry laugh.

Eugene looked up from his clipboard. “I could potentially formulate a topical balm that may relieve some of your chronic pain symptoms, though most ingredients would not sufficiently penetrate the muscle in order to reach the origin of—”

You cut him off with a smile and a laugh. “It’s okay, Eugene. I’m fine. It’s not too bad. What do we need to tackle today?”

The three of you chatted briefly about what needed to be done urgently and then each picked your tasks to start with. Several hours later, you were nearly done trying to treat the small number of plants that were still surviving in the raised garden beds for some kind of insect pest when you were interrupted.

You turned at the sound of footsteps to see one of the Sanctuary residents approaching. You stood and dusted the soil from your gloves. “Hi. What’s up?”

“The guys getting that scrap metal from the upper floors found a water leak. Can you come take a look at it? We might be able to fix it, but we’d probably have to shut the water off completely for a while.”

You sighed heavily and pulled off your gloves. “Always something new, isn’t it?” you said dryly. “Yeah, I’ll come take a look now. Lead the way.”

You passed through the factory floor, noting that the graffiti discovered the day before had been freshly painted over as Daryl had demanded. Carol and Eugene were bent over a table in deep discussion over some new plan. Your stomach flipped as it always did as you passed the oven where Negan used to heat his iron or branding rods. You turned your eyes away.

Soon you were on the upper floors, walking through the dim hallways. It always felt eerily quiet up there. The resident you were following pointed ahead to the next doorway and then stopped to grab some work gloves from a pile of gear set in the hallway. You passed him and stopped in the doorway, expecting to see the group of other people working, but the room was empty. And there was no sign of a water leak. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. “Hey, are you sure this is—”

And then everything went black.

Carol was walking somewhat aimlessly back and forth across the factory floor, weaving through the supplies and little bunched groups of people. She craned her neck trying to see if she could spot you anywhere. The two of you had planned to meet for the evening meal after everyone was done for the day but Carol was suddenly realizing she hadn’t seen you since that morning.

Her stomach began to churn. She bolted toward outside where evening was beginning to fall. The garden beds cast long, deep shadows between them, but she didn’t find you crouched among them. The final place she checked was the room you shared with Daryl, now mainly bare of your items since the two of you had begun packing your belongings to leave. Daryl had already taken his few things away on his bike.

There was no sign of you.

Her heart started to pound. She’d questioned everyone she could think of as to your whereabouts. Where could you possibly be? An anxious thought flitted into her mind. Her stomach tightened into a fist. It wasn’t like you not to arrive somewhere you said you would…

The last thing to do was to search the rarely used upper floors. She knew a crew had been working up there earlier in the day, collecting and hauling scrap metal to be reused to patch the roof and fences. Perhaps something had come up and you were still up there assisting with a problem.

Her boots made a lonely, echoing sound as she rushed around corner after corner. There was a weighty silence and the farther up she wandered, the sicker she felt. Something was seriously wrong. She could feel it in her bones. She called your name out but it strangely didn’t seem to pierce the thick vapor of silence in front of her. Every step increased her heart rate and poured adrenaline into her bloodstream. She felt almost shaky as she loosened her knife in its sheath. Just in case, she thought. In case of what?

Another minute or two passed as she searched. Each moment felt excruciatingly long. And then all of a sudden, her breath caught in her throat. “Oh my God. Y/N!” Carol bolted toward the crumpled form halfway down the hall in front of her. “Oh, God…” The front of your shirt was soaked with blood and you were lying on the cold floor unconscious. Your face was bruised and swollen. There were cuts and smears of blood on your skin. But what held her attention horrifically was that whoever had done this to you had taken a knife and began to carve a word into your chest, just below your collar bone. SA and part of a V. Carol didn’t need to guess what they’d intended to spell. They were making a gruesome point. Her hands shook as they hovered over you for a moment. She said your name again and then gently clasped your face and gripped your arm. She jostled you a little. “Wake up. It’s Carol! Please, wake up!”

You began to stir a little and a grimace contorted your features.

“Oh, thank God,” Carol sighed, hanging her head in relief for a very brief moment before the nausea seemed to rise into her throat again at your condition. “Y/N? Open your eyes, hun!”

You let out a small pained noise and then your eyes did open blearily. You were immediately trying to sit up, pushing yourself up on the palms of your hands but your head felt split in two and your muscles felt rubbery and weak. “Fuck,” you murmured.

“Whoa—okay. Easy! Take it easy!”

You reached up and touched the back of your head. It was swollen with a lump and tender and your fingers came away slightly sticky. You looked down at them and registered the deep color of drying blood. Your chest burned. You looked down to see that the whole front of your shirt was stained crimson. Your body ached and panged with sharp pains. You could feel your heartbeat in your face.

“Is anything broken? Can you stand up?” Carol asked, her brow heavy over her eyes, but the light inside frantic and quickly turning furious.

“I don’t think anything is broken,” you said softly. Your jaw ached. You gave it an exploratory wiggle left and right and immediately regretted it. Your bottom lip was split and swollen. You winced again. “What the fuck?” you murmured. “I mean what the ever-loving, royal fuck?” you growled. The hot rage welling up in you was pushing some of the pain back.

“Let’s just get you up and off the floor, okay? Slowly.” Carol helped you to your feet. Your head swam and you squeezed your eyes shut, not letting go of her hands for a long moment until you felt steadier. Her expression said enough about what you must look like… “What happened? Do you know who did this to you?” she asked.

You shook your head a little, absently pressing a hand to the burning sensation on your chest, but you stopped as the burn surged when your palm landed flush on your skin. You took in a sharp intake of breath through your teeth. “No. Well—I saw one of them… they lured me up here. Told me there was a water leak they found while doing the scrapping and—and then someone hit me on the head from behind and I was knocked out. But I don’t know why. I mean, why me?”

Carol’s expression was taught. Anger swirled in her eyes. She knew exactly why. You couldn’t see it yet, but the word was partially carved into your chest. That graffiti on the wall out on the factory floor was just the tip of the iceberg. Things were rotting here just under the surface, and since you’d once been Negan’s wife, she imagined you were a perfect target for those who wanted to make a point. “Let me see the back of your head,” she said. There was a small split in the skin where you’d been struck, your hair stained rusty red, but she didn’t think you’d need stitches there and she was extremely relieved that it wasn’t worse... not much anyone could do from something like a skull fracture in the apocalypse. She sighed heavily as another flame of rage wicked upwards in her chest. “Okay… Let’s get you back to your room. Hold onto my arm. Can you make it?”

You nodded, gripping her to steady yourself on your shaky legs, and allowed her to lead you away. You glanced back over your shoulder and were sickened to see the smears of your blood shockingly deep red on the tile behind you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Carol had you sitting on the edge of your bed and she set down a first aid kit beside you. You were looking up at her from behind a wall of swelling and bruising on your face. You tenderly wiggled your jaw again, testing opening and closing your mouth. It felt ready to lock up. She could tell from the way you’d moved on the walk back and how you were slumped slightly forward now that there was probably substantial bruising beneath your clothes that she couldn’t see. Your movements were tentative and cautious.

You hadn’t looked in the mirror yet. You were afraid to. The pain was bad enough. The fogginess in your head was bad enough. You were worried if you saw the results of the beating, it would only make it worse, more real.

Carol began unpacking supplies. “Tell me everything you remember,” she said gently.

You shook your head. “Not much. Like I said, I was out working in the raised garden beds and somebody came up to me.”

“Who?” Carol pressed you. “If you don’t know their name, what did they look like?”

“Uhh… his name starts with a ‘G’ I think… Give me a second.” You filed through names in your head until you got the right one. “Graham. I think that’s it… He’s tall. Long black hair past his shoulders.”

“Okay,” Carol nodded, opening an alcohol swab. “What did he say exactly?”

“He asked if I could come look at a leak they found while they were moving all the scrap metal. He said they thought they could fix it but they’d have to turn the water off. I went to see and I was barely in the doorway of the room he pointed out. There wasn’t a water leak. I was just standing there, about to say something and—something hit the back of my head. I don’t really remember anything after that. Some foggy pain maybe but… mostly nothing.”

“Do you think there were others waiting up there? Or could it have just been him?” Carol asked, dabbing at a wound on the side of your face. You shut your eyes from the fumes of the alcohol. She was starting to worry about just how many traitors could be in the walls.

“There was at least one other person. When I got hit, I was looking back at him ten feet away from me down the hall.”

Carol sighed heavily and nodded. “Okay.” Her eyes drifted down to the cruelly carved letters on your chest. Your chin tilted down as you tried to look but her hand on your shoulder stopped you. “Hold on,” she said. Her face contorted with emotion she was trying to hold back. “Better you see this now. I’m so sorry.”

You gave her a perplexed look. You knew you were beat up but what was she—

Carol grabbed the small mirror off the little sink in the corner and held it up so you could see yourself for the first time. Initially, all you saw was the swelling and bruising on your face but then your breath caught in your throat. S-A- and part of a V, cut into your skin. The cuts were deep and she had already had to apply some butterfly bandages to hold certain spots closed. No wonder your skin had burned and stung there since you came back to consciousness.

You felt like you were about to be sick and Carol must have seen you pale because she hastily put down the mirror and gripped your shoulders again as if she was afraid you were going to faint. “Whoa. Deep breaths.”

Your eyes shut and you did your best to swallow down the nausea. “What the fuck,” you muttered, reeling. You blinked away angry tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get you cleaned up and then I think I have some of my special ointment in my bag. If you apply it at least once a day it’ll minimize any scarring…”

You let out a wry laugh. “Minimize,” you repeated. “But I’ll still have half of ‘Saviors’ carved into me for the rest of my life.” Tears burned in your eyes again. It wasn’t bad enough what you had gone through with Negan, with his men, with the war—now this? Would it ever be over?

Carol winced. “I’m so sorry… I had no idea things were this bad here.”

You sniffled and mopped gently at the tears that had broken out onto your cheeks. “I knew they were pretty bad but—can’t say I saw anything like this coming.”

“Well, who could? It’s—horrific.” She gave you a sympathetic look and then surprised you by pulling you gently into a hug for a long moment. Her eyes were teary now too when she pulled back, but she pulled herself together quickly. Back to business, she returned to the first aid kit and continued her ministrations. Your mind was endlessly turning.

“I wonder why they didn’t finish,” you suddenly said softly.

“Mmm,” Carol hummed, nodding, tossing down another soiled gauze pad and reaching for a new one. “They must have gotten interrupted. Maybe heard someone in that part of the building.”

Your eyes lifted and met hers. She paused at the expression on your face. “Do you think they were going to kill me? Leave me there with—with this cut into me to make a statement?”

Carol’s mouth dropped open and she shook her head. “I don’t—I don’t know,” she said, trying to keep her tone flat. Your question had been asked matter-of-factly and Carol was suddenly reminded of all you had gone through in the war and even before any of them had met you, when you’d just been a stranger with a mysterious backstory. “But obviously they knew they couldn’t take you in a fair fight. Fucking cowards,” she growled. “Had to ambush you to even have a chance.”

You sighed, shaking your head again, your eyes dropping to your hands. “They sure beat the shit out of me though,” you mused aloud. “It’s probably good Daryl isn’t here. He’d lose it,” you said, fiddling with another gauze pad which Carol took out of your hands and taped down over the now cleaned cuts below your collarbone.

She cleared her throat. “About that…”

You met her blue eyes again. “You radioed him? He’s probably way out of range by now. He’s probably already in Hilltop,” you said.

“Rosita rode out on the quad immediately to get within range. Eugene is doing a headcount as we speak to see who, if anyone, is missing…”

Another wry laugh left you and you nodded. “That’s why you took so long. And I just thought you couldn’t find the damn kit,” you said, shooting her a look, tears burning in your eyes. “Daryl is gonna go on a rampage,” you said softly.

Carol nodded. “Probably. But he should be here with you. And if I didn’t radio him, I’d be on the receiving end of that rampage. And I think we should focus it on the assholes that did this to you instead.”

You nodded and a sob tried to burst out of you. You suppressed it as best you could and it came out as a hitched breath. “Yeah,” you said, your voice a little strained.

Carol quickly grabbed you into a hug again. “Everything is going to be okay. Daryl will be here soon and we will figure this out.”

You hugged her back and nodded into her shoulder, grateful again for your found family.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was there in an hour, stomping through The Sanctuary with Eugene at his heels, mostly ignoring the stream of words out of the mullet-headed Texan’s mouth. Rosita finally grabbed Eugene’s arm and stopped him, clearly realizing Daryl wasn’t hearing a word of it, didn’t give a shit about anything but going to see you. He was at the door of the little room the two of you had shared before anyone could come to tell you he’d arrived.

Daryl froze and made himself knock lightly, rather than barely in. The last thing he wanted was to startle you. His stomach turned as he waited to hear your voice on the other side, inviting him in. “S’me,” he drawled, the jittery feeling that permeated his body translating to an ever-so-slight tremble in his voice.

You sat up in bed. “Come in,” you said hurriedly, already feeling the tears burning in your eyes again. You were in clean clothes now and thoroughly patched up thanks to Carol, but that wasn’t going to change how rough you looked and how hard it was going to be for Daryl to see it.

The door opened slowly, measuredly, and he took shape in the doorway. He froze for only a split second as his eyes roamed over your face, taking in the swelling and already deep purple bruises. Then he rushed to you and hugged you in against him gently. That was all it took for you to go to pieces against him, clinging to his leather jacket. “Jesus, what the hell did they do to ya? ‘M sorry. ‘M so sorry I wasn’t here. I shouldn’ta left ya. ‘M so sorry, babe. I shoulda been here,” he said into your hair, kissing you on the top of the head, holding you gently so he wouldn’t hurt you but firmly so you knew you were safe.

You sniffled and mopped the tears from your cheeks as he clasped your face and brushed your hair back. “Don’t—don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” you said, looking up into his blue eyes. They were stormy and turbulent. “You couldn’t know…”

“Lemme see ya,” he said, looking you over. His heart ached as you showed him the bruising on your stomach and ribs. “Sit back. Rest,” he said, climbing into bed beside you where you were propped up against the headboard and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You tucked in against him. He left a kiss in your hair again.

“Did—did Rosita tell you what they—that—”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “She didn’t tell me anything specific except that some assholes had hurt ya bad, beat ya up, and that I needed to get back here,” he said. “Tell me what?” His stomach churned around a hard knot. His mind began inventing all kinds of horrific scenarios immediately. What did you mean?

You could see him whirling and quickly tried to explain. “I was unconscious but—” Your hand landed on the gauze pad taped over the wounds below your collarbone. His eyes flitted down to it. “They used a knife and—” You couldn’t get any more words out so you simply lifted the bandage to show him, gingerly peeling back the medical tape and bandaging. Daryl froze completely. Every part of him stilled. He stared at the brutality someone had inflicted on you and hot rage boiled inside him. More tears leaked out onto your cheeks as you saw what it was doing to him to see that on you. You hastily covered it back up.

He softened again, coming back to himself, letting his anger flow away, and wiped the tears from your face with his thumbs. “Hey—it don’t matter to me what they—how they marked ya like that. Ya know that, right? Ya got every right to feel however ya feel ‘bout it. Ya do. But to me—” He shook his head. “It don’t matter, okay? I just see you. It’s all gonna be alrigh’.”

You collapsed into him again, finally letting yourself completely break down, wondering how the fuck you’d gotten so lucky as to find this man. He held you against his chest, his strong arms securely around you. He could feel the bump on the back of your head where they’d hit you. He could feel the swelling on your face and under your clothes, and he internally yelled at himself for leaving you behind, even if it was only supposed to be for a couple days, even though no one would have guessed that anything like this would happen, even though he knew how strong and capable you were. “‘M so sorry,” he murmured again. “I shouldn’t have left ya here… here of all places, with them.” His hands clenched into fists. “I’m gonna track down every one of these assholes and put ‘em in the fuckin’ ground,” he growled.

You couldn’t stand him blaming himself and you pulled yourself together. “It’s not your fault, Daryl. And—maybe… maybe I should have known something like this could happen…”

His brow furrowed. “What do ya mean?” He took a beat, his heart seemingly suspended somewhere in a gaping space that had opened in his chest. “Did somethin’ happen before this?”

You bit your bottom lip, your eyes still glassy. “No. No, not exactly. Nothing happened. I mean, people have—said things to me before. Made comments. I just—”

Daryl frowned, his brow heavy over his eyes, casting them in a deep shadow. “Like what? What kinda comments?”

You sighed and turned to face him more fully. You rested your hands on his sides. “Just—little shitty things. Because of what I’d been here,” you explained. “As Negan’s wife…”

Daryl was boiling again inside with anger. “Ya weren’t ever his wife,” he said. “That word means somethin’ else.” Your fingers went to touch the wedding band on your ring finger, the one Daryl had made with his own hands and given to you.

“Yeah. I know. It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly. “I just wrote them off and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want it to be a big deal and I knew how upset you’d get. It just felt like shitty people being shitty at the time. Mostly…”

“Mostly,” he growled.

“I never thought anything like this would happen. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

Daryl sighed and ducked his head, running his hands gently up and down the soft bare skin on your arms, marred with bruises and abrasions. “Don’t apologize. Ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong. I get why ya didn’t tell me… and yer righ’. I woulda beat the shit out of anybody sayin’ or doin’ anythin’ like that to ya. But tha’s my job. I wanna protect you.”

“I know,” you said. “We’ve just had so much on our plate here. I didn’t want to add something else. And I never thought—I didn’t think—” You grimaced as a wave of pain and dizziness hit you.

“I know. I know. Hey—it’s okay. We’ve talked ‘bout this enough. Ya need to rest. ‘M here now. S’okay.”

“I am really tired,” you agreed, shutting your eyes and waiting for the lightheaded feeling to pass.

He clasped your face again, his eyes flickering from this injury to that, and then he kissed your swollen lips as gently as he could. You managed to give him an overwhelmed, somewhat sad smile which he returned. “C’mon. Let’s lay down.”

Daryl helped you settle down on the mattress and fitted himself beside you. You tucked yourself against his body, breathed in his smell and safety, and shut your eyes. His fingers brushed through your hair, reassuring and grounding.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning Daryl was awake early while you slept on. He carefully, ever so slowly slipped out of bed and pulled a change of clothes on. He snuck out and headed to find Carol, Eugene, and Rosita.

He spotted Eugene first and nudged his head up in a nod as a greeting. “Well, what d’ya got to tell me?” Daryl asked hurriedly.

“We were short five of the former Saviors at the headcount last night, and five again this mornin’. Carol and Rosita have been questionin’ people all night. We don’t think anyone here knew anything about it. They weren’t exactly gentle with their lines of inquiry.”

Daryl rubbed a hand over his mouth and nodded thoughtfully. “Alrigh’. As I thought then... Cowards took off right afterwards.”

“Indeed. I suspect they knew Justice’s hammer would fall hard and swift on them once their atrocious deed was discovered,” Eugene agreed. “No way to know now where they’re headed.”

Daryl sighed. “Hopefully righ’ into a fuckin’ herd of walkers,” he drawled. “Alrigh’. Well, we need to send out runners to get word out to The Kingdom and Alexandria so ev’rybody can watch out for those pieces of shit... Y/N and I will take news to Hilltop today, and keep our eyes open for any sign of ‘em on the way. If I get sight of ‘em, I’mma strangle ‘em with my bare fuckin’ hands…” He sighed again, even more heavily this time. “Thanks. For everythin’ ya’ll did last night.”

“Of course,” Eugene said sincerely. “How is her condition today?”

Daryl sighed and shook his head. “She’s still asleep. She was exhausted. ‘M gonna get back up there. I dun want her wakin’ up here alone and ‘m still afraid there could be somebody in here—” he hesitated to speak his fear lest it become real. “She’ll be alrigh’. She’s tough. But she was shaken up pretty good and I can’t believe how bad they beat her up... and what they did,” he said vaguely, referring to the letterds on your skin. “But she’ll be okay.” He patted Eugene on the shoulder gratefully and headed straight back to you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

With hasty goodbyes and thank you’s to your close, chosen family, still at The Sanctuary you departed for Hilltop on the back of Daryl’s bike. You held extra tightly to him the whole way, and often his right hand left the handlebars to smooth over yours for a moment. The Sanctuary shrank smaller and smaller behind you and then disappeared into a cloud of dust. Neither of you knew it at the time, but you’d never come to that place again while it was a semi-functional community. It would be only ruins when you sheltered there during the storm eight years after the war.

On arriving at Hilltop, Maggie threw her arms around you and tears of shock filled her eyes when she saw your bruised and swollen face. Enid insisted on checking you over again, but gave you the all clear after much expressed anger and concern. Maggie quickly carved out a space for you and Daryl to stay, close to the room she shared with baby Hershel in the big house up on the hill.

Your body had stiffened overnight and on the bike ride. Every movement caused aches and pains to shoot through you and Daryl was attentive and worried as you settled into your new home. When you settled into bed at first, Daryl kissed every part of you where he could see a bruise or injury. His fingers were light and gentle on your skin, and you were amazed as you always were that he could be so soft when he was so strong. Finally, the sun sank below the horizon and you were again laying side by side, your head tucked up under his chin, listening to the whoosh of air in his lungs and his steady heartbeat.

“I had an idea,” you said softly, breaking a long but comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“Maybe when I’m all healed up, if—if it scars bad, I can get someone to do a tattoo over it to cover it up.”

Daryl smiled. You were already thinking ahead to the future, thinking of solutions. That was a good sign. He hugged you more tightly against him. “What would ya get?”

“I don’t know. Something pretty… to cover up something so ugly,” you mused aloud. “Like, there are these flowers that only bloom once in their lifetime and it can take decades to happen.”

“Nah, tha’s no good,” Daryl said quickly.

“What? Why?” you asked, looking up at him with surprise from beneath your lashes.

“It don’t fit ya. Yer bloomin’ all the time. Every day. Ya always have been, even when ya couldn’t see it,” he drawled. He pressed a kiss softly to your forehead.

You smiled at him sleepily.

“Was that too cheesy?” he asked with a gruff laugh.

“No. It was just the right amount,” you said. “Okay… maybe I’ll just get ‘Property of Daryl Dixon’,” you joked.

“No good. Ya ain’t nobody’s property. Ya belong only to yerself. ‘M just lucky that you share with me,” he said, his fingertips tracing vague shapes on the bare skin of your hip, exposed from the way your shirt had draped.

You sighed and nuzzled in against his neck. “I was only kidding,” you said, closing your eyes.

“I know. But it’s true.”

You yawned. “Maybe. But I do also belong to you, by my choice. I have since that night you fell through that rotten floor,” you said with a laugh. Daryl’s chest moved as he joined you with a low chuckle. In another minute, you were asleep. Daryl whispered ‘I love you’ into your hair, and shut his eyes too.

He meant what he’d said—he’d find whoever had hurt you and end them if he could, but after that, he wouldn’t allow the shadow of the past to dim another day. He’d walk with you forward, facing the sun in the same way you’d been doing together since the end of the war. And he hoped this time all of it, all the Saviors, The Sanctuary, the fear and pain, was really behind both of you.

[hopepaigeturner]

An Offer From an Avid Reader: The Tea Scene. (Jail Scene Pt.2)

As part of Benophie week Pt.2 Day 1: Sophie.

So as I have said before that I have split the jail scene in two after pondering @eleanorbradstreet's post (read here) concerning how a lot of the OG jail scene is a bit of a exposition dump.

You can read part 1 here, that also reimagines the confrontation between Sophie and Araminta while also keeping the swooniness and hilarity of the OG jail scene.

Essentially at the end of my jail scene, everything that happened in the book has happened. (Posy swooping in like supergirl, Violet serving the quips, Benedict punching the jailer).

HOWEVER: Araminta has not been blackmailed. Araminta has not been silenced by the Bridgertons and could still loosen her lips and wreck ruin on Benophie. And this Tea Scene resolves this, while aligning with my ideas for how S4 could showcase Sophie and the power of female friendship (posted here).

Context:

Since my jail scene the following events have occurred:

Sophie and Benedict return to Bridgerton house (posted here).

2. THAT Bath scene. (posted here)

3. Dinner with the Birdgerton full family where everyone basically ‘catches up’ and truly witness Benophie perfection/adorableness (my angst strung out heart will NEED that fluff)

a) The dinner also addresses the situation around Benophie, how Araminta is still at large. And even though Benophie express their contentment to slip away into the depths of the countryside, Kate and Violet stop them.

"Just give us a day, we have a plan," Kate's eyes glimmer with glee and she shares a conspirators look with Violet. "Oh gosh whatever scheme the two of you have concocted I'm sure Lady Araminta will run screaming for her life," Anthony teases. "Oh nonsense, Anthony," his mother chides, "we are merely inviting her to tea." All present look at each other in confusion. Kate and Violet sip their wine with perfect synchronicity.

Right, onto the scene. Shoutout to @orangepeelshortbreadcookies for beta reading this.

✨The Scene ✨

The scene starts with a shot of Benedict pacing in the corridor outside of the parlour at Bridgerton House. Anthony and Colin are with him.

“Benedict, you are going to make a hole in the carpet.” Colin says. Benedict runs his hands through his hair.

“She should not have to face that woman, not after…I should be in there.”

Anthony huffs and stops him in his tracks.

“It is different this time, Benedict. This time she is not alone. You need to trust them and you need to trust her. Do you trust her?”

“Ofcourse.”

“Then you need to be patient.”

Benedict bows his head and tries to pull his strength together. Suddenly there is a clatter.

All three turn to find Hyacinth and Gregory in the process of smuggling themselves and some water glasses past them.

“What on earth?” Anthony asks.

“They help you hear through doors,” Hyacinth explains. 

“And how do you know such a trick?” Anthony asks as his eyes narrow.

Hyacinth rolls her eyes,

“Do you want to listen or not?”

She offers Benedict a glass. Benedict looks between the others. Benedict takes the glass.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Scene shifts to the inside of the recognisable Bridgerton parlour where Araminta sits on a couch.

“Well, isn’t this very civil of us,” Araminta says her dark dress contrasting with the lightness of the Bridgerton’s parlour. She looks the perfect poised porcelain picture of a lady. “Especially after all that unpleasantness yesterday.”

“Indeed,” Violet says, after a pause. Her tea sits in front of her. She is flanked by Kate, Francesca and Penelope on her left; Sophie, Posy and Eloise on her right.

“I fear such squalid surroundings brought out the worst of us—or maybe it reflected one's true nature, hmm?” Araminta comments, the smallest hint of a smirk directed at Sophie who rolls her shoulders back.

“Perhaps.”

Another pause.

“Well,” Araminta starts again with a wide smile, “thank goodness that is all over now.”

“Indeed, it is wonderful to have my future daughter-in-law back with us safe and sound,” Violet clasps Sophie’s hand and gives her a maternal smile.

“I beg your pardon?” Araminta replies, tea halfway to her lips.

“Sophie is engaged to my son.” Violet replies, “Now that she is home, we can finally plan the nuptials,” she gives Sophie another smile.

Araminta laughs, the noise sharp.

“No, she is not.” Araminta’s grin falters when she sees Violet’s smile does not falter. “Sophie cannot be engaged to your son.”

“You were in that jail with us, Lady Penwood, I think you heard my son’s intentions loud and clear.”

“You cannot be earnest?” Araminta looks at the other faces, but all the ladies merely sip their tea. “That was an outrageous proposition used to wrangle that thief out of jail—a jail she deserved to be in.”

“Again, I am unsure where such recollection is coming from Lady Penwood,” Violet replies, her brows pinched with concern, “perhaps the fumes of the jail have overcome your senses. Your daughter confessed in front of the magistrate.”

“We all know such things were lies.”

“I am not so sure, Lady Penwood. All I can consider were the events I witnessed.”

“How could you—” Araminta cries then pauses, and settles back on the lounge, her body reassembling like a settling hawk. Back comes the saccharine smile and the perfect poise.

“Well, what I consider, is that within the ton, one is nothing without position and prospects—no matter how pretty the face. And well…I am sure Sophie knows what happens when one merely has a pretty face.”

Sophie bristles, but her gaze does not waver.

“Ah well, that is not entirely true is it, Lady Penwood?” Kate says putting down her teacup. “For Sophie is the daughter of Charles Beckett, a landed gentleman and dearest cousin of the late earl. Such a dear friend that when he and his wife tragically died of tuberculosis, the earl took it upon himself to care for their daughter. I suppose there are brighter prospects but then again…” She gives Araminta a small smirk “there is the connection to the Guns.”

Araminta’s perfect face does not falter—but her eyes narrow.

“If you think that I will perpetuate such a farcical story for a commoner's welp then you are mistaken.” Araminta leans forward, her smile turning into a snarl, “I shall tell them all the truth, that your son is marrying the bastard daughter of a whore—”

The doors slams open, and Benedict enters, his usual charming features twisted by his fury.

Behind him Anthony, Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory pick themselves up from the floor, stumbling over water glasses.

“How dare you!”

“Benedict!” his mother cries, but Benedict ignores her.

“You will not insult Sophie—"

“Ben!” Sophie cries, coming in front and as soon as her hands rests over his heart he pauses. Although, his voice still shakes,

“She cannot, she should not—”

“I know my love,” Sophie cradles his head in her hands, “I know.” But her smile is brilliant.  “Her words cannot hurt me anymore. I know who I am.”

Benedict looks at Sophie, his face a mixture of anguish and care,

“You do not need to do this. Not after all she has done—”

“I choose to do this. I want to do this. For us, but also for myself.”

After a moment Benedict nods.

“Then I am staying. I need to—”

“No.” Sophie replies softly. “Trust me, my love. Trust that I have the strength to do this.”

“I know you have the strength—you are the strongest woman I know,” he whispers back. He then looks back at her, “If at any moment you wish—”

“I know,” Sophie says with a beautiful smile, tracing his cheek. Benedict rests his forehead on hers.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies and he plants the softest of kisses on her forehead. Sophie kisses his cheek and they share a look that only two people with matched souls can share. Benedict walks away, eyes flickering over in the direction of Araminta.

He pauses, and in the next moment pivots and sweeps Sophie into the most romantic of kisses, so overwhelming that all Sophie can do is respond in kind.

“A kiss for luck,” he whispers when they part.

Upon leaving her breathless, he gives her his signature grin and goes to the door—throwing one last grin over his shoulder to Araminta. Sophie stands for a moment, breathing heavily, staring in stunned silence.

“My, my, it seems scrubbing floors is not the only thing one can do on their knees to get ahead in this family.” Araminta sneers just as Benedict goes to shut the door.

Outcries abound. Teacups clatter. Benedict growls.

“There is no indignity in scrubbing floors. After all you never touched a rag, so it must be your character that has caused no other child to dare reside in your womb."

Silence.

A silence long enough for Sophie to take her place back with Violet after her retort. A silence long enough for Benedict to close the door with the proudest of grins for his fiancée.

Clink. Clink. Violet Bridgerton taps her teacup with the spoon.

“Now, down to business.”

“Business? I shall do no business with the likes of you. I am a Countess, she is a commoner with no prospects.”

“Again, that is not entirely true is it, Lady Penwood?”

“And how is that so?”

“I think if you look at the paperwork,” from the table Violet picks up a piece of paper still with remnants of dust over the surface, “say this very legitimate Will that your daughter found last year. It seems that Sophie has quite a lovely dowry—a little larger than your daughters.”

“What?” Sophie turns between Violet and Posy, face bewildered. “I thought…I thought…”

“Your father gave you a dowry Sophie,” Posy explains gently, “and enough money for my mother to care for you and to have you presented.”

“You snivelling snitch,” Araminta spits at Posy who flinches back.

“You shall find that Posy has more spine in one finger than you do in your entire body,” Eloise fights back, holding her friend’s hand. Posy smiles at her.

“Indeed, your Posy is a remarkable and courageous young woman,” Violet says and Posy blushes red. “And I think what is of most importance is this. Where is Sophie’s dowry Lady Penwood?”

Araminta’s face cracks.

“You see, as my daughter-in-law, Sophie shall join the Bridgerton family. Her dowry is now Bridgerton property and well…my family does not take kindly to thieves.”

“I am not a thief.”

“Then where is Sophie’s dowry?”

“She had no use of it, she did not deserve it—”

“You stole my dowry!” Sophie cries.

“Sophie, we have no need for a dowry,” Kate quickly says.

“That is not the point.” Sophie whirls on Araminta. “Your heart is so twisted and spiteful that you stole the final gift my father gave to me for your fancy dresses!”

“I do not need to explain my actions to you.”

“No you do not. But you do to our solicitors.” Violet intervenes, her tone becoming curious as if asking for the time.  “Kate, what is the punishment for embezzlement?”

“Well, a hefty fine—maybe the size of a hefty dowry,” Kate says nonchalantly.

“You cannot—”

“Kate, how long will it take to fetch our solicitors?”

“Why, they live a few streets away—twenty minutes,”

“This is preposterous—”

“Or perhaps ten if the roads are clear,” Kate smirks over the rim of her teacup.

“You will not be able to prove anything!”

“That may be so. It is a shame that our justice system can be so easily swayed by fine jewels—but the scandal that would occur…”

“How would you?”

“You might recall, Lady Penwood,” Penelope starts with a smile that makes Araminta shiver, “that I have had many titles before I became Penelope Bridgerton, such as Penelope Featherington. Or perhaps you remember my other title—Lady Whistledown.”

Penelope pulls out a piece of paper with a very familiar insignia on the top.

“Now, while my pen has tamed a little in the past few years, how can I ignore a scandal like this? A snatcher of servants revealed as a snatcher of dowries? My, my…it would make for the most salacious of returns.”

“You might find your power has waned in your prolonged absence.”

“But not the appetite of the ton.” Eloise says bringing out another Whistledown, this one being the first mention of the servant scandal Araminta has been caught up within. The one Eloise wrote. “And you must know, we would hate to see your name brought into further disrepute.”

Araminta’s cup quivers in her grip.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, you are very fortunate, Lady Penwood, for while our solicitors might take note of mislaid dowries, we believe that Sophie’s character is far more priceless than any dowry.”

“See, we are willing to let your nefarious actions slide, if you would just remember how kind your late husband was to Charles Beckett’s daughter.” Kate explains tilting her head as she holds her teacup up.

Araminta’s lip curls.

“You will not get away with this.”

“Penelope, how soon can those pamphlets be published?” Kate asks absentmindedly.

“On my word.” 

Araminta and the audience feel the power of such a statement.

“You have no sway—I rank higher than you,” Araminta snarls at Kate.

Kate does not falter for one moment.

“You see, I might only be a beloved Viscountess, but my sister-in-law is a Countess.” She nods to Francesca. “My other sister-in-law is a woman whose pen makes the Queen shiver. And my own sister is favoured most highly by her Majesty. And that does not consider my other sister-in-law who sadly could not attend this tea for she is currently in Prussia—the duties of a Duchess and all.” Kate tilts her head to the side and gives a tight-lipped smile.  “Now, Lady Penwood, you are indeed a Countess, but do you truly wish to challenge the Bridgerton family?”

The camera zooms out to encompass all the Bridgerton ladies in the shot. United as one.

Araminta’s smile finally falls.

“Fine. I shall endorse your ridiculous lies.”

“I am so glad we could come to an agreement.”

“Is that what we are calling blackmail these days?”

“Lady Penwood, how absurd. We are merely ladies having tea.” Violet smiles a saccharine smile and sips her teacup. “An afternoon of lovely tea where we have established that Sophie has both the position and the prospects to marry my son. Although she needed neither, for she has won my son’s heart.”

“You think all this will stop the whispers about their…liaisons? Especially with such a hasty courtship.”

“But do you not know? My son has been courting Miss Beckett all season—did you not notice his prolonged absence to the country?” Violet says in the most innocent of tones. “And ofcourse the Guns provided a chaperone at all times, for they are one of the most upstanding families within the ton.”

“Of course we did,” the words bitter in Araminta’s mouth. “The tea is cold—I shall take my leave.” She stands. None of the other ladies stand regardless of the demands of etiquette.

The doors open and the Bridgerton men enter. They stand behind their respective women, while Hyacinth and Gregory stand behind Posy and Eloise.

Araminta surveys them all. Upon seeing Benedict’s hands resting on Sophie’s shoulders, her perfect features falter into something far uglier. Then she reconstructs herself—but not as swiftly nor perfectly as before. Her nose seems a bit upturned, her cheeks pinched, her expression sour.

“Come along Posy!” she barks and strides towards the door. She pauses and turns.

Posy continues to sit between Eloise and Sophie, clutching the girls’ hands in a vice-like grip—but not moving. “Posy, I said come,” Araminta demands. Posy swallows thickly.

“No.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I said no.” Posy repeats, her voice gaining strength. “I have decided to live with the Bridgertons as their ward.”

“How dare you!” Araminta steps forward—as does Anthony Bridgerton with his trademark glower. Araminta steps back, face haughty.

“I think Lady Penwood that you are right. It is time you leave.” Araminta might be formidable in front of defenceless children— but she is no match for Viscount Bridgerton.

“Well, it is a pity that such an illustrious family is happy with my cast-offs. Good riddance, I would have been laden from you until my grave—no one would have ever married you.”

Posy visibly flinches as if struck. Araminta smirks and goes to turn away—

THWACK!

Araminta staggers and turns back, clutching her cheek.

Sophie stands above her, glowering.

“That was not for stealing my childhood, nor my dowry, nor for putting me in prison. That was for not loving your daughters equally. From this moment, Posy and I cast you off. Go back to your pathetic garden full of weeds, for I only have pity for a woman whose heart is so paltry.”

Araminta staggers to the door, eyes wide. At the door she meets Benedict who gives his trademark smirk.

“And I think you’ll find,” he says, almost in her ear, “that I was the one who got on my knees.”

With one final affronted look she walks out, shaking with fury or distress—we’ll never know.

The room seems to sigh, everyone relaxing slightly. Benedict turns to smile at Sophie, she musters up a smile, although her body shakes. Immediately Benedict takes her in his arms and she sags into him, clutching tightly to his jacket.

“I need a moment,” she whispers, pressing her forehead against his waistcoat..

“Take all the time you need.” He kisses her brow. “You do not need to stay silent. Not on my account, never with me.”

Sophie nods and she finally lets all the swirling emotions, and reactions she had tied down during the confrontation bubble over—after all, they may be manageable now, but they are still present. She lets it all fizzle out in shaky limbs, shakier breaths, and little sniffles.

Meanwhile, Posy is still sat on the sofa, eyes distant as if stunned.

“Posy?” Eloise asks, “Posy, what is wrong?”

“I cannot believe it,” Posy says, her words seeming separate from her body.

“Believe what?”

Posy turns her head towards Sophie who looks over from Benedict’s arms.

“We are free,” she says, her voice as soft as the first wind caused by the flap of a bird released from the cage. “We are free,” Posy repeats, eyes watering, smile growing—a mirror of Sophie’s. “We are finally free!” Posy cries and the girls rush together in a joyous embrace, laughing and crying and spinning in unbridled joy.

Just like the princess and the knight all those years ago.

“Thank you, thank you all of you,” Posy addresses the Bridgertons, still in a tight embrace with Sophie even though they have stopped spinning.

“We cannot take the credit. Your characters, resilience, and courage led to your freedom—we merely gave a little help here and there.”

“Still, we owe you our gratitude.”

“As we said,” Kate comes over with all the Bridgerton women, “anything for family.”

All the women embrace in one big huddle, the bond of womanhood as vibrant as the different colours of their dresses.

They finally separate. Then Violet’s face lights up.

“Oh, you know what this means.” Sophie falters in confusion. “Now we can plan your wedding!” The group bursts into chatter of opinions and disagreements. In the middle of the storm Sophie looks over to Benedict, face bemused. Benedict merely smiles and shrugs—Sophie can only accept her new fate. Even though she fell in love with Benedict—she is still marrying a Bridgerton.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I am so happy to finally post this! It has been sitting in my draft for the last six months!

As always I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests!

So, check out the list here, for more of my ideas.

Or check out the general arcs of my prospective S4 under #offer from an avid reader

[pearl-blue-musings]

Just a Friend?

This has been a long time coming ahahahah but yeah

Pairing: Kaeya Alberich x reader

Warnings: this is based off of an @anigomi kaeya audio that I’ll link, slight angst, we’re all bad at feelings

Word count: 1.6K

110% based off of this anigomi and give it a listen before you read for context!

Just a friend?

Is that all you were to him? Sure, you truly did value your friendship with the Cavalry captain and vice versa. But you thought you were special! He stayed with you the entire time you were recovering and was the one to bring you to the infirmary.

So why did hearing those words hurt so badly?

It has been three weeks since your accident and you’re just returning to active duty. The rest of your battalion was happy to see you. You gave them anxious waves as the injuries are still newly healed, not wanting to worry any of them further. Your goal right now is to report to Jean and then start your shift. Your armor clinks as you walk into the acting grand master’s office, coming to a stop to salute.

“Acting Grand Master Jean,” you say on instinct as you finish your salute. “I’ve come to return to active duty. My recovery has finished and the reports of what happened that day and all subsequent work are right here.” You hand Jean the file and return to attention. You watch her carefully look over everything and nod curtly. “Hmm,” she begins softly, “everything seems to be in order. Alright,” Jean says firmly, “report to Kaeya immediately. You two are scheduled to patrol around Starsnatch Cliff. There’s been a strange increase in Abyss Mage and hillichurl activity and the two of you are our best people.”

You gulp and fidget in your stance, feeling your anxiety and sensitivity to rejection rising to the surface. You clear your throat. “If it’s alright with you, I would like to be reassigned.” Your heart is racing as you think more about your commanding officer, the one who’s had your heart for longer than you’d like to admit. Jean’s eyes narrow in on you and calmly places your file down on her desk.

With a sigh, Jean looks toward you. “I’m sorry, there isn’t much I can do. You can ask for a change the next time the schedule goes up. You think you can bear it today?” She gives you a kind and understanding smile. Your shoulders sink as you politely walk out of her office. Your lips purse as you walk out of the knights’ headquarters. At the end of the steps, you see the back of the one person you’ve been dreading to see.

“Oh?” The baritone of his voice tilts upward as you approach him. You notice his body relaxes as he sees you. Kaeya gives you a knowing smirk and cocks out his hip. “You’re earlier than expected,” he coolly states, “shall we begin our patrol?” You nod sharply and start ahead. You miss him giving a small pout as he inhales deeply and follows behind. There’s so many words he wants to say. As much as he needs to focus on the increase of the presence of the abyss that’s been causing trouble for his fellow Mondstadters.

The long trek toward the cliffs is full of awkward silences and the sounds of the windblumes flowing in the wind. Too many times Kaeya attempts to start a conversation with you and you brush away his advances. “Well,” he chuckles an hour into your patrol, “I didn’t expect such an icy reception from you. And after all I did to help you recover. I’m hurt.”

You can hear the fake hurt in his voice and tighten your hand into a fist to resist caving into him. “Well we are coworkers,” you finally speak out. “It’s understandable you would see that I recovered well. You are my boss.”

“And that’s it? I’m just your boss?”

Your eyes tighten shut and you control your breathing. Who is he to imply what he’s implying? Your pace of walking speeds up as your head and heart are having a battle you thought you wouldn’t be having currently. He can’t know about the ways your heart beats out of time every time his cool blue irises bore into yours. He’s not allowed to know how many nights you’ve dreamt of sleeping and waking in his arms. No, the two of you are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

His soft voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “You know,” he slowly begins, “I really missed you these last few weeks. How come you wouldn’t let me see you? After I nursed you back to life and I get the cold shoulder from you?” Kaeya skips ahead of you to stop you in your tracks, his eyes more serious than before. “Why are you avoiding me? There’s no use in denying it.”

You lose your balance briefly as he quickly stops you from walking further. The sun is setting over the ocean waters, casting a beautiful glow on the cliffs as night begins to roll in. The sparkle in his eye is more menacing and serious than before. His hands rest on your shoulders as he searches for the answer in your visage. Your eyes dodge his own as you attempt to find any stains on your uniform. “I,” you stutter out, “I’m not avoiding you. I needed to recover.”

Kaeya’s eyes roll as he grips you tighter. “That’s not the answer, snowflake. I know you and you know me.” He suddenly gets closer to you and his breath is brushing against face. “I was the one on your bedside when you woke up, and now I get nothing? I gave up,” he chuckles dryly, “nights at the tavern to be with you, which by the way you still owe me for. You’re someone I adore and have a connection with. Why are you pushing me away?” His hand had softly began to caress and cup your face. You want to give in to his touch, something you’ve craved for so long. Despite his semi gloved hand and frigid vision, his hand is warm against your skin. You naturally relax against him before your flight or fight kicks in.

You abruptly push him away and turn your body away from him. “You can’t do that! Friends don’t,” you huff, “friends don’t do that. You, you can’t touch me like that a-and expect me to just say “what a great friend you are Kaeya!” I can’t do that. So don’t, d-dont touch me.”

Shock comes to his face as his hand falters against your skin. His bottom lip trembles slightly as his eye takes in your visage once more. Your shoulders are tight, possibly to the point of shaking and your eyes are downcast and to the side. You can’t look at him, not with the way your heart beats erratically in your chest. You hate that his touch sends shivers down your spine and has the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around. You hate that despite how special he treated you, he dare only call you a friend? What were those lingering looks, soft gazes from across the bar, his hand holding yours when you needed support? The audacity of him to kiss your cheek as a way of saying hello and goodbye when he took care of you! What was it? Is it just platonic? Perhaps you were deluding yourself.

The captain studies your face and softens his expression. He takes a deep breath and carefully takes your hand in his. Kaeya takes note of how you flinch and attempts to hide his own smirk. “What if I want to keep touching you?”

“Kaeya..” you exacerbate.

“No listen,” his hold tightens. “You are a friend, a great friend, the best friend I’ve ever known. And when you got hurt under my watch… I had convinced myself it was because someone knew how special you are to me. The farther away you are from me, the least likely you are to get hurt. But I know how much of a strong soldier you are, one of the strongest in my opinion…” He trails off as he relaxes his grip on you. Kaeya hangs his head low, something you rarely see from the confident and charismatic man. Almost weakly he whispers, “why can’t I tell you how I feel? Well I am a man of action after all.”

You lift your eyebrows in confusion as his hands cup your face. You’re taken aback as you feel his lips over yours, your stomach moving like a yo-yo. Your hands fall easily onto his chest, continuing to kiss the man you’ve harbored feelings for. When you both pull away, a shy giggle escapes your lips as your fingers lightly graze the warm and soft skin. His smile is infectious as he extends a hand out for you to take. You gladly take it and proceed to walk along toward the cliff. You clear your throat as you feel yourself wanting to word vomit. “So, do you really have feelings for me? Or was that you trying to get your way? Because I know you Kaeya and-“

You’re cut off by another surprise kiss and come to a halt. Any words you had left to say die in your throat as Kaeya pecks your lips again and again. “You wound me, snowflake. Yes, I love you okay? Now let’s continue our patrol, okay?”

You nod lightly and walk alongside him. You can’t help but muse over how his hand feels in yours. The way your heart is excited yet calm at the same time leaves you giddy and smiling like the teenager you were when you first fell for the captain. You’re pretty sure when this shift is over you’ll have a lot of explaining to do to Jean and the other members of your troop.

[giggly-moon]

Something about 7 makes me think of the gods, like Hermes or Athena (maybe even Poseidon 👀) cause they’re all so full of themselves they legit wouldn’t expect to be ticklish & I think it would be funny

Or, ya know… ghost!polites & someone of your choice? 👀👀👀

7: genuinely believing they’re not ticklish and being proven wrong

A/N: decided to go for the second option cause i’m still not super confident in how i write for the gods, plus i just had to write something for ghost!polites. so this one has a fair bit of angst in it but, like, it’s our ghosty boy. it’s bound to get at least a little angsty. but i chose elpenor as the other character for this prompt because i feel like these two would have a really sweet brotherly relationship and also elpenor is just really fun to write for. also for context, i know polites as a ghost probably still blushes red but in my head, since i imagine the ghost version of him to have a much colder color palette than the alive version, his blush is blue instead so i decided to add it in for funsies.

“So, like, can you still feel things as a ghost?”

“Some things.” Polites gave a half-hearted shrug. “I guess it depends on the type of thing.”

Elpenor has always been endlessly curious, maybe to the point of it becoming a problem. And Polites’ passing had been a rather difficult time for the whole crew, but when their friend somehow came back as a battered looking spirit and the hurricane of emotions surrounding it gradually turned to a tame breeze every now and then, Elpenor couldn’t help that his curiosity was piqued exponentially.

Which, of course, meant he had dozens of questions to ask him. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, in Polites’ opinion, but sometimes his questions could hit a little too close to home.

“Can you still feel different temperatures?” Elpenor leaned forward slightly in interest, sitting across from Polites on the floor of the crows nest with his chin resting on his hands.

“Yup. I feel the cold better than warmth though, i’ve noticed.” Polites absently rubbed at his arm, as if just talking about it made him feel colder.

Elpenor gives a nod as he processes this information, before moving right along to his next question. “Can you feel pain?”

Polites gave a small sigh. “No, at least to my knowledge.”

Despite being given an answer, Elpenor still felt the need to test it anyway, reaching a hand up to repeatedly flick at Polites’ forehead. “This doesn’t hurt at all?”

“Nope.” Polites gave a slightly amused smile, but it was quick to fade. He felt a little silly for it, being sad at no longer being able to feel pain of all things, but in his mind it was just one more thing that made him inhuman. Another reminder that he was dead, that was he nothing but a floating corpse.

“Hmm.” Elpenor retracted his hand as he thought of another question to ask, looking Polites up and down like he was observing a scientific specimen. It was only a little bit uncomfortable. “Are you still ticklish?”

The question is so sudden and casual that it catches Polites off guard. “Wh- i-i don’t think so?” He sputters as he stares at Elpenor in surprise, who just stares back. “Probably not, i mean, ghosts don’t really have nerves, do they?”

“But have you tested it at all?”

Polites looks away from him sheepishly. “Well, no, but-“

With his gaze turned away from him, Polites fails to notice Elpenor reaching out for him again, not even waiting for him to finish talking before experimentally wiggling his fingers against his side. It’s a bit of a strange feeling, like his fingers are phasing through a layer of slightly thicker, cold air. But in a pleasantly surprising way, Polites still flinches away from his touch with a loud yelp, turning invisible for just a split second.

They both go silent. Elpenor stares at him with a surprised but excited look on his face, it has Polites suddenly feeling very nervous as he desperately tries to think of something to say. “Um.”

“You know, Polites, something tells me you might actually be wrong.” Elpenor says with a big grin, shifting into more of a kneeling position to lean in closer, making Polites lean back with a wobbly smile.

“B-but that doesn’t mahahake-“ Polites trails off into a fit of bubbly giggles as Elpenor reaches forward again with both hands this time to continue his attack on his sides, leaning to the side to dodge and batting at his hands. “-any sehense!“

Elpenor lets out a short ‘pffft’ sound. “Well, yeah, it probably doesn’t, but who cares? It’s still cool as hell!” He remains undeterred with Polites’ honestly pretty weak attempts at fighting him off, only moving to a different spot each time, like he’s trying to test out every one he can reach.

For Polites, it’s probably one of the strangest things he’s ever felt, but not in a bad way. It still very distinctly tickles, but in a more light and fuzzy way than he remembers, lighting up his nerves in a way that’s hard to get used to but wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. But god did it tickle like hell.

“Dude, this is great!” Elpenor says with mischievous delight. “I haven’t heard you laugh this much since you came back!” His smile slips a little as he gives it a bit more thought, and Polites thinks he hears something a bit more somber in his tone. “Or, like, at all actually.”

Elpenor doesn’t linger on that thought for very long, at least not for now, choosing to refocus on his task instead by moving his hands down to his stomach, scribbling everywhere he can reach without Polites’ hands getting in the way. And Polites hadn’t noticed it until Elpenor brought it up just how different he sounds, his now broken and raspy voice making for a very squeaky laugh, it’s… honestly kind of embarrassing.

“You sound like a mouse or something.” Elpenor snickers as if he can read his mind, and Polites tries to groan but it ends up sounding like more of a whine instead, a blue blush spreading across his face instantly.

“Shut uhuhup!” Polites aimed his protective smacking and shoving at Elpenor’s chest instead in an attempt to shut him up, and he can’t help but get a little defensive at that comment. “I gehehet ihit, ihihi’m different nohow!”

Elpenor gives him a bit of a strange look for a moment but he doesn’t say anything after that, just speeds up his hands even more and bounces around between spots with a new sense of determination. Until Polites decides that he can’t take much more of it and grabs onto Elpenor’s hands in a firm hold and gently tugs them away.

“Thahat…” Polites forced out through his residual giggles, curling up on the wooden floor and sending a playful glare Elpenor’s way. “…sucked.”

Elpenor raised an eyebrow. “You know, i really don’t remember ever hearing you say “stop” that whole time.” He stated, making Polites let out another groan. “Guess you’re not so different now after all.”

“What?”

“You said you were different now, but maybe you’re not as different as you think you are. Like, you’re still ticklish and stuff so that’s gotta mean something, right?” Elpenor awkwardly shuffled over to sit himself down right beside Polites, giving him a casual shrug. “And maybe there’s other stuff about you that’s still the same that you haven’t realized yet. You might look and sound different, but you’re still Polites.”

Polites took in his words with a surprised, wide-eyed look. But the more he thought about it, the more he started to think he might be right, a genuine smile forming on his face. He let himself lean against his friend, ignoring his lighthearted complaint about him being cold.

He’s still Polites.

[daichinom]

LAST REFUGE

chap. 5

Daryl Dixon x Grimes Reader

Season 1

⚠️Warning: spoilers, blood, mentions of death and suicide, medical terms, angst, typical TWD violence and gore, vomiting, child injury, allusions to gunshot wound

Shane had gone to the trouble of gathering everyone, they had to go into town since supplies were running out.

-"Well… Whoever wants to go will be at their own risk"- Shane announced, you gave them all a tour with your eyes.

Jacqui and Glenn were one of the first to raise their hands, along with T-Dog, then Andrea was encouraged to go along with Morales.

The group was already formed, you gave Andrea the list of everyday things and saw how she put it in her pants pocket, suddenly, Merle Dixon's voice disconcerted everyone.

-"I'm going"- he said with a devilish smile.

Shane frowned, the others too, they didn't like him, but there was no way they could say no.

-"Take good care of yourselves"- you said while hugging Jacqui, you had an idea of ​​how dangerous the city was.

You watched with Carl and Lori as they got into the truck along with Dale's tools, -"Aunt Y/N"- Carl lightly pulled the fabric of your shirt so you could see, -"will they come back?"- he asked, -"Of course, darling"-.

Lori interrupted, looking at you for you to say something similar.

-"I hope so… But what I hope more is for my nephew to cut off that big hair of his"- you said with a smile, earning a giggle from Lori and a grimace from Carl.

They went back to doing their usual chores, Amy asked you if you would accompany her to go get mushrooms to which you nodded.

-"Try to make sure they are not poisoned Y/N!"- you heard Shane's voice, to which you gave him a sign of understanding, getting poisoned with a mushroom was the last thing missing.

You could assure that the screeching of the tires could be heard from the other block, you saw how Shane got out of the patrol car in a hurry from the window, Lori came out to see what she needed.

-"The suitcases, quickly grab everything you can!" - Shane shouted, Carl was hugging your hip, not understanding what was happening, Lori, without asking, did what Shane asked, anxious to know why he it was that way.

-"Shane… what the hell is wrong with you?"- you asked, to have a context of the situation, -"the city… is infested, there are people killing each other left and right"- he told you tensely, you opened your eyes as if dishes before the revelation.

Your mind was processing the information in seconds, until your first thought arrived.

-"And Rick?"- you asked scared, what would happen to your brother? They had told you that he was taken to Atlanta, -"Y/N go home, grab what you can, we'll pick you up there"- Shane told you, taking your shoulders.

You couldn't do anything else, Shane was helping Lori with the things to take them to the car, Lori told you to do the same so you quickly ran home, since it wasn't very far.

Y/N..

Y/N?..

Y/N!

Your eyes blinked, a natural way of returning to reality.

-"These mushrooms… are they groceries?" - Amy asked you while showing you some mushrooms.

-"Y-Yes… tear them out"- you said, while you diverted your thoughts. Amy sighed, pulling out her knife and inexpertly trying to cut it.

-"Hey… What are you thinking about so much?"- Amy asked as she placed them in a basket.

-"Nothing…just the past…before all this"- you said, as you gave him your hand to get up.

-"Well… how about we talk about something more current"- you looked at her, without understanding too much, you weren't much older than Amy, maybe one or two years apart.

-"Who do you think is the most handsome in the camp?"- her question made you smile, damn, it's been a long time since you asked those stupid questions in college.

-"Hmm.. I don't know.. Glenn?"- you said jokingly, -"do you like Asians?"- he said with a face of mock indignation.

-"Nah… I like big eyes"- you said, making them both laugh, not too hard in case they alerted them to something.

-"Have you ever liked a teacher?" - you asked, plucking some mushrooms that were next to a tree, -"my literature teacher, he was gorgeous, it's a shame he had children" - her answer made you laugh, your body had already unaccustomed to laughter, so much so that you went limp and almost tore off a piece of the trunk, you still didn't stop from your episode of laughter along with Amy, who was holding you between laughs.

TimeLapse

You walked in just as Shane was explaining how delicious the frogs were and how he offered Carl to go catch them, -"forget it, they're disgusting"- you supported Lori, Carl smiled at you.

-"At least we will be sure that they are not poisoned"- Shane said, you looked at him and he gave you a mocking smile.

-"100% clean"- you assured, while Lori gave you a smile, -"thank you Y/N"- Lori said, as she left them aside, -"do you also want to go fishing for frogs, Aunt Y/N?"- she asked. Carl, while they were cutting his hair.

-"No, thanks honey, that's too masculine for me"- you said, Shane mocked you, suddenly, the radio started transmitting a signal, Dale tried to listen to it.

It was possibly T-Dog, trapped in the city, Amy quickly became tense, saying that we should go there, to which Shane tried to tell her that it was impossible.

-"She's my sister, son of a bitch!"- Amy exclaimed, as she walked away, Shane sighed.

The only thing left to do was wait, although there was also the possibility that they would never return.

[cry-ptidd]

*clasps hands together* Well since you asked--

What do you think about Laura x, my OC, Augustine?

To give a bit of a background— Augustine Columba is, or technically was, an Italian priest that had no association whatsover ever with Iscariot was murdered by a group of Iscariot paladins who mistook him for a vampire they were hunting. In a panic they unceremoniously left Augustine in a ditch.

In his dying breath, he asked God to bring him back to life so he can enact vengeange and justice to the paladins who wronged him. Much to his surprise, God agreed. However after he finished with his mission, God revealed to Augustine that his current self cannot pass on to either Heaven or Hell and face eternal oblivion because his body had been brought back not his soul.

Faced with this revelation and the fact that he is a literal walking corpse, Augustine contemplates death but after saving another OC of mine throws the concept out the window and decides to spend the rest of his immortal, rotting life to care for my other OC.

In a way Laura and Augustine share a common background. They somehow somewhat have been wronged by men of God and enacted revenge on them but the similarities end there. How do you think their clashing personalities or backstories affect their relationship?

Hell just typing this, I realised... What would happen if Enrico x Augustine were to happen? A hypocritical fanatic and an actual man of God?

OOOOO OC X OC let's mash our dolls together

- personal rating: hmm, maybe a 7/10?

- HCs: I can see both of them allowing themselves to open up a bit, maybe after some banter and venomous words. There's a sense of solidarity there, and I could see both of them begrudgingly sitting after a brawl against a wall before starting to talk.

- OTP level: 5

- Would I have liked to see it canon: Now, Laura is a lesbian, so it wouldn't work romantically. However, I COULD see it in a more platonic context. That said, there will be obvious prejudice on both sides, maybe especially on Laura's, since Augustine is an actual man of God – and Augustine could take offense on the behalf of his God because Laura abhorres Him. It would be a rocky start, but they could make it work through mutual traumadumping. Maybe Augustine would actually want to help Laura in some way, which WILL be very hard.

- general opinion: I had to think about it, but I actually can see this work from enemies to begrudging solidarity to loose allies/"friends" (do either of them even let ppl in??), where they'd have to put their affiliations to the side a bit. I like it, actually. It makes for extremely interesting drama.

Now, Enrico x Augustine? Let's go

- personal rating: 8/10

- HCs: Hatefuck???? All I'm saying is Enrico probably feels REALLY insecure next to Augustine, and could even see him as a rival. I don't know if Augustine would reciprocate the rivalry or maybe dislike/despise Enrico for his hypocritical and selfish ways.

- OTP level: 6?

- Would I have liked to see it canon: If Augustine was a canon character, yes I would have liked to see it. It would've been a very interesting dynamic to explore. It would've given us more information on Enrico as a character too, exploring his views on a person he (afaik?) isn't submitting to him and is an actual man of God, as well as prejudice against an immortal being.

- general opinion: As said above, i think this one is really worth exploring. I can see it as a very bitter potential match, that may evolve into actual feelings (maybe on Enrico's side? Which would piss him tf off). Lots of potential for angst and drama here, especially considering Augustine is a character that could force Enrico to actually confront his hypocrisy and selfishness.

[freyafrida]

Who is your Walter fan cast? 🫢

hello hello! hmm…i don't really have a single person who i envision as walter, but i've seen some photos/other fancasts over the years that i've kinda composited into walter? lol. i will list them below!

so back in like, 2013-14, i remember seeing an edit that used ben whishaw in "the hour" as walter. i cannot find it again (if it still exists) but i always quite liked it! i think the 20th-century clothes/hair helped a lot as well -- i always kind of have trouble transposing faces out of their surrounding hair/clothes which is maybe why i struggle with fancasts! it's not quite perfect to me -- ben whishaw just reads as more cute than handsome to me haha -- but i did always really like that his features are finer and less classically square-jawed.

this lone photo of the model timofei rudenko always stuck me as very young walter-ish -- the otherworldly stare and again, the more delicate/sharper features. he does not remind of me of walter at literally any other angle though lolll

how hard would u judge me if i admit that i first read rilla of ingleside in 2010 and when speak now by taylor swift came out later in the year, my first sort of ~envisioning~ of walter was the dude from the "back to december" music video. lol. again, does not give me walter vibes in any other context but he felt v. walter in all the angsting-in-the-snow shots.

but yeah!! some sort of weird composite of these three guys is usually what i have in mind when i'm envisioning walter. ty for asking nonny!

[karamell-sweetz]

um. i um. i did a thingy and now i’m going to yap under the cut

ok now. so i did this with mainly just dynamics in mind because i am a firm believer that all of these ruikasaverse things can and SHOULD be explored platonically. yk for what they are. and not just in the context of romantic relationships. because. that’s just how relationships work right.

BUT i did split my ult favs into the ones i like more romantically (🚢) and platonically (which i should have labelled as 🍽️). just because i’ve been shipping them romantically for a good while anyway. that said everything in my 🚢 tier can/should be explored platonically too.

NOW ENSUES THE YAP.

TIER ONE: ult favs, romantic

DANTORU OTP OF THE CENTURY. i don’t even have a good reason as to why they’re my favourite of all time, i think it’s mainly just the aesthetics of them together and the romantic implications of piano. and the stars too. think about it guys. imagine playing music with your lover beneath the stars… or playing a duet with them… or laying your hands over your lover’s as you teach them how to play!!! grrrh.

KUROSHIRO OTP OF THE CENTURY #2. dear ruikasers that make them painfully reincarnate into every other universe: you successfully break my heart every single time. that and giving them forbidden romance. and killing tsukasa for plot. it gets me every time. also an aesthetics thing, flowers are awesome and there is something so beautiful about being practically opposites yet coming together all the same. ugh. ughhh.

curtain call has the horrifyingly romantic implications of YEARNING for your lover and the passage of time threatening to break you apart. it’s pining and angst and all the joys and pains of life rolled into one.

if we count filament as nakashira then i LOOOVE them. salaryman yaoi or whatever. it would be AWESOME if we explored them platonically but i like the idea of them getting to know each other and slowly fall in love with each other… and make each other better… grrhh… domestic life… was never quite my style… /lyr

tacthina!! honestly don’t have a reason for why they’re up so high here but i think they’re very sweet. bonus for arranged marriage, and when paired withhhhh tactqilin!!! againnn finding your lover reincarnated over centuries… there’s something cool about going through time and searching for that one person again and again. i think that’s the reason why most of these ships are in the top category lmao it may be my favourite trope.

TIER TWO: ult favs, platonic

GHH as much as i love colorfes ritk romantically i honestly think they should be explored platonically too. like a long distance friendship with an ethereal deity. and also AGAIN with finding that person again and again throughout time and space (teehee)!! because rui’s usually an immortal deity in this au.

both zozos actually could have gone in ‘normal ritk with a mask on’ but idk there’s something about these two designs specifically that scratches my brain. no i don’t really know why i put them so high. they just look really good together.

i can go on forever about pandemonium the event and how it was such a turning point for rui’s relationships and character development and honestly that should be reflected in the cards too. EEESPECIALLY when you put their canon meeting in. stuff like tsukasa slowly warming up to rui’s antics and letting himself be a little less uptight with him. and rui getting to share all of himself with someone close to him!

KIRAPIKA. mmm. i dunno i just like rpg style things. and going out on missions and quests together. i dunno! i think they’re best enjoyed alongside emu and nene so they can all be a party together though.

SURPRISE I LIKE GALAJEST MORE THAN RINGJEST? man i don’t know either? most of the things i see with them are along the lines of rui crafting up tsukasa as a little galactic friend and i think that’s really sweet. hmm other than that i forgot why i put them so high. it’s mainly the idea of rui being tsukasa’s ultimate helper i guess, and tsukasa being rui’s companion in return. :)

TIER THREE: scrumptious!

BOODEVIL IS SO CUTE! something about rui, filled with all sorts of bitterness, being brought into the light by tsukasa’s simple ways of enjoying life.

wl is cute too, not much to say with them. i feel like i see so much royalty-based ritk that it’s hard to have any large feelings about it, at least in my case lol.

ROSEOU… mmm… it’s neat to make friends with your butler or other sort of royal advisor. and also that idea of getting closer from a place of formality, and getting to show the hidden sides of you to another person especially when you’re both in a formal position.

lilyrose goes well together aesthetically. or as aesthetically as you can get with rose’s abysmal colours 😋 other than that it’s usually giving the same as roseou so not much to say that hasn’t been said already.

space opera… not much to say about them. intergalactic partnership ✨

now prommy i DO like ringjest. it’s good that they have each other’s backs. its just that certain bits of fandom have sort of ruined them for me :/ still cute tho

ahhh white day… there’s so much white day out there that i have no idea what’s going on with it /pos. that said, love the doomed yaoi.

i don’t have too many feelings on the seibaitAAAAAsu cards honestly, mainly because i haven’t had the time to read the story or really look into it in detail. these cards are stunning though. love the doomed yaoi again.

ok i’m actually a sucker for phantom thieves even though i have no idea what they actually do… it’s the cat and mouse aspect + mysterious identity for me!

lilyfes… mmm… againnn the reincarnation thing!! or rui looking over his partner throughout immortality and protecting him. oughh.

merking and merprince areee basically the same thing right? i love a bit of little mermaid style pining to be a land dweller, or even the opposite with king/prince wanting to partake in the ocean’s beauty or whatever…

cyberpunk on its own feels a bit too loose conceptually for me to be fully on board with it but once you slide idolkasa in there it has more weight to it. love me some hidden identity once again.

kemo… they are very cute… again not a strong enough concept/difference to get me fully on board with it

pop in my heart! bakerkasa feels very similar to boodevil now but it’s still cute

TIER FOUR: it exists.

hakapega… bwaaaah… i love the idea of pegasus being a robot replacement for tsukasa and the angst that that brings with it, but other than that i have no strong feelings on it. i’m a lover not a fighter 😔

sorry fesdog lovers but i am not sure about the dog… that’s all i will say.

potato boys are fun, just not hitting with me tbh

mmm you all know i have my own fairy au so technically i should be on board with the fairies… i just haven’t seen much of it. the idea is adorbs tho. just two bros living the miniature life in little fairy domestication…

the idea of colorfes and tinykasa is also very sweet, just not my cup of tea personally ><

i don’t have strong feelings for the starry sky melody set in general so unfortunately this ritk is getting the mid.

zozo2… same as zozo1 but they don’t hit as hard for whatever reason. they are still pretty though

knightfes is cool? but once you put sorcerui in the picture it’s not really unfortunately.

octoking is the same as merking and merprince. it’s in this tier because the tentacles do not entail the best things maybe. also i don’t know if i like them on rui.

knightprince could be cute actually. switches up what we’ve seen so far in roseou etc.

rmd… idk it’s interesting in regards to designs and the power dynamics but i’m really not feeling it :/

detectives are cute too but it feels like more office yaoi!! and i just prefer nakashira and phantom thief rui in that case.

never seen skaterzozo in my life but that’s because skaterkasa is relatively new. i think it’s cool tho.

i should have put middle school in tier three because it has a lot of potential platonically, but i honestly just like preserving the canon timeline regarding that era

sanrio is like if boodevil/pimh met merking/merprince. rui coming out of the water to visit tsukasa’s cafe… very sweet. no strong feelings for it though.

TIER FIVE: erm.

with starry sky orchestra it really depends on what angle you look at them from. most of the things i see with these two are trying to push the whole sibling thing in a weird way unfortunately, so that’s tainted my view of it a little. but if you DON’T make them related it’s just mid i think.

again, never seen skaterdog because skaterkasa is a new card. same issue as fesdog though. can’t get over the dog allegations.

‘TIER SIX’: normal ritk with a mask on

these are for the aus that are close to canon. i prefer to look at them platonically in that case.

anyway that’s enough of me!! sorry once i left this overnight i forgot what i wanted to say + after the first few tiers i ran out of things to say :P

[wickedlyqueer]

do you have any elphaba headcanons? like just in general. your last headcanon post was really fun to read!! :)

Hmm, I feel like I put most of my Elphie headcanons in my fics so after 7 years I doubt there's much new I have to deliver but here goes:

Elphie is intersex, non-binary, aromantic and bisexual. I might stray from this sometimes for the sake of a fic, but it does feel like "straying" from their Original State to me.

Elphaba never makes the first move on Glinda, fully convinced it's one-sided. If you put all my fics next to each other, you'll see a pattern where Glinda pretty much always kisses or confesses first. Or, figures it out and makes Elphaba confess. It's just not in Elphie's self-depreciating nature to move first (which is ironic, if you watched my wicked is gay video. bc I make the case Elphaba is super impulsive and Glinda always needs to think everything through. But, this is the one area where Elphaba restrains herself. And Glinda does move. But only if she's sure it has the outcome she wants—hence why gelphie can be such a delicious mutual pining ship).

Elphaba's character is full of adolescent angst and esp in canon that trauma takes a hold of them. But, as I've gotten older myself and found more stability, I really like to play around with a mature(d) Elphie. Who might still have some negative thought spirals, but has enough life experience to recognize where it comes from, and doesn't get lost in it. Sometimes I do worry it strains too much from their "core" character, but I find it so tempting to play with, because it's such unexplored territory.

Like, Elphie is such a tragic character on a fundamental level, that giving them a happy/cathartic ending is about the most radical thing you can do. Which does feel really in character again, somehow.

Actually, I'm going to stop myself, bc I'm noticing that I'm brushing very broad strokes, which doesn't make for a fun list (like the gelphie one), but that's because — especially when it comes to details — I've always argued that:

Whatever you headcanon Elphie as, you can argue the complete opposite of that, and it still would feel in character.

(e.g. Elphaba has the cleanest room. Elphaba has the dirtiest room, or is Elphaba an incredible cook or a terrible one?)

Both make total sense to me, because Elphaba's character depends so heavily on the context they're in. So if you want more fun/quick Elphie headcanons, I feel like you'd actually need to give me a setting. :') Because through making this list, I realized it heavily depends on that.

[flowercrowngods]

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

hmm i don’t know about reading, but writing i can tell you: a the rest of us just live here-esque wayne munson/scott clarke story of how they find each other through the years of canon events

for context, the rest of us just live here is a beautiful YA novel by patrick ness in which the protagonists live in a city where The Chosen Ones kinda wreak havoc every now and then and they’re really just kids who don’t have special powers and who are just dealing with teenage angst and stuff, essentially shining a light on the lives of those who don’t get to change the world but have to live in a world that’s changed

all the canon events still happen, except we get an outsider pov that’s unaware of everything at best, and ignorant of it at worst.

for the sake of ✨hyper specificity✨ let me paint you a picture

the story would start in a little corner café, early enough in the day for scott to stop and grab a coffee because it’s something he used to do in university and then later as a teacher student and then when he started out, and he can’t shake the habit and at this point he doesn’t want to anymore, appreciating the extra bit of time in the morning taken to read up on the news or latest scientific breakthroughs or work on his children’s book series about a bunch of kids who investigate supernatural phenomena in their rural town and get help from their science teacher (he’s a sillyman and i love him)

wayne frequents the same cafe, either in the morning after he worked the graveyard shift and he just wants some good fucking coffee before going home and passing out just as eddie leaves for school, or in the mornings before he has to work the day shift. he almost always runs into scott, but it’s more of a polite nod situation than anything else because they never really have anything to say to each other and scott is always preoccupied while wayne is just dead to the world and here to enjoy the silence

but then one day will goes missing, and they both hear about it. when hawkins PD organises and mobilises the whole town to comb the forest for any traces of will, scott and wayne end up finding each other, spending the search together, and they get talking about will — whether scott knew him, whether he was a good kid, whether scott thinks the kid just up and left or if something terrible must have happened. they also talk about eddie, after an hour or two, about why wayne is here if he doesn’t even know will.

“that kid is someone’s boy. if anything were to happen to my boy, i’d want the whole town on its damn feet looking for him.”

they don’t find will, but with that first instance of talking, the two of them don’t really stop. they gravitate toward each other in the mornings; wayne finding a table with two chairs, inviting scott to take a seat even if they sit in silence as scott reads or writes or grades some tests. they instantly fall into a comfortable dynamic that shouldn’t work but it does.

at some point they like really get talking and sometimes when scott has a free first period wayne will stay as long as he can and they’ll just talk the whole time and scott finds that wayne is super smart but more in a practical way and wayne finds that scott is obviously smart in the hypotheticals and the natural sciences and explains things in a way that doesn’t feel too draining or too much. and sometimes when scott is writing or stuck at a particular scene or plot point, wayne helps him out. because eddie gets his storytelling ways from wayne actually. the man’s an avid storyteller if he wants to be; he just usually has a deadpan way about it now that eddie’s a teen, doesn’t make a big deal of the vivid imagination he has, but scott learns to appreciate it anyway.

and wayne tells stories about mysterious monster dogs living in the junkyard (bc the man sees shit that man is aware that man is nocturnal by trade and this town can’t fool him!!!!) — and it’s fine while it stays like that, but soon they’re talking about will again; about kids and teenagers dying in this town. first the holland girl, then so many others. scott knew them all, is haunted by it, gets oddly quiet and wayne wants to change the topic, but he knows something’s wrong in this town.

he talks about moving, too, wants to take eddie with him and leave, but then he ends up not doing it when things calm down in the summer of ‘85 and the mayor resigns and the police is more present. even though the chief is dead. and that hargrove boy. still he decides he’ll stay, knows eddie wants to try one more time even though wayne doesn’t care about shit like that, knows that eddie’ll fall through the system and still find his way — scott agrees every time, speaks of eddie in the highest praise, adoring the way he thinks and the strategies he has to turn everything he learns into some sort of story setting. scott feels for both eddie and wayne every time he hears that the boy flunked a test again, failed his finals, skipped school for a week. he knows how cruel it is, this system, to boys like eddie munson.

things are fine when eddie starts senior year again, wayne says the boy is determined that this time it’ll work out, this time he’ll make him proud and stick it to the rest of hawkins. scott believes him. believes in eddie. lays his hand on wayne’s and smiles, and wayne smiles back.

and then kids are dying again. one of them in his home. and eddie is gone and people don’t talk to wayne anymore because he’s the Devil’s blood, but scott finds him anyway and holds him and tells him that “i’m here.” and “i’m sorry.” and “let’s go look for your eddie.”

and then eddie is dead but not really, and then there are so many kids in that tiny hospital room who didn’t die but look like they’ve looked death in the eye anyway, and maybe this town is cursed, but eddie is back and he’s alive and scott never left wayne’s side, not even in this claustrophobic hospital room that’s posing a fire hazard — but they’ve learned that a fire hazard is the least of their problems, especially when it’s caused by people caring for his boy.

and when that harrington boy is holding eddie’s hand in the hospital bed and on the living room couch like he’s afraid the boy will disappear if he looks away, wayne reaches for scott’s hand, too, because he doesn’t want the man to disappear either. ever again.

and he keeps holding that hand when his kids disappear again to save the world, leaving him with haunted looks that pull up into teary-eyed smiles and the pale promise to come back. and he keeps holding that hand when they come back, when it’s the harrington boy who needs his hand held in a hospital room with eddie refusing to let go. and he keeps holding that hand when scott joins eddie by steve’s bed and takes over with the storytelling. and he keeps holding that hand when he joins in. and he keeps holding that hand when the kids start crying because it’s scott’s tale that makes them realise that they’ve won. that it’s over.

he pulls scott out of the hospital room into the dark and empty hallway and tells him, “i love you.”

because the man is more than ridiculous sweater vests and wholesome funny quirky stories and an ever sunny disposition and scientific tangents about aliens and their existence over his fifth cup of coffee that afternoon that makes wayne contemplate whether he should consider grabbing decaf the next time he’s out for groceries.

the man also makes him dinner and lunch and breakfast and coffee when his nephew is missing and presumed dead. the man massages his shoulders and scalp when wayne’s been on the brink of tears for too many hours now. the man will talk in quiet hushed tones when the police sirens are too loud, and he will shut up when wayne needs nothing but silence.

they have become attuned to each other over the course of 3 years without realising it.

and they can hold hands about it if they want to because the world ended and children died and the government screwed them all over, so maybe it doesn’t matter if two men in their late forties or early fifties decide that each other is what they want next in life.

scott kisses him for the first time in that dark hallway outside that hospital room, holding wayne to his chest as they wait for the kids to trail out of the room one by one so they can drive them home.

the world ended and then it didn’t, and scott and wayne fell in love along the way.

🤍🌷 come ask me questions for writers