#i finally get to look at him clearly after all these years

[bunnis-monsters]

The Dragon Prince, in need of a mate

Dragon Prince x Fem!Reader

summary: After a desperate search for his mate, the dragon prince leaves the celestial realm to drink away his sorrows, only to find the person he was looking for in a commoner. You.

warning: breeding, mating, lots of cum, scenting, he fucks you in his dragon form

WK: 10k words

The sounds of heavy footsteps echoed down the palace halls, a growl leaving the throat of the celestial dragon prince.

It was tiring, looking for a bride every day. Not a single woman had been the right one for him… how would he ever be king without a mate?

It made him both angry and strangely… lonely at times. Everywhere he turned there seemed to be a happy couple. Noblemen and women lounged together, being fed grapes or massaged. Even when his eyes glanced towards the common folk, he would spot lovers holding hands or sharing a secretive kiss while serving the palace.

It was enough to drive a dragon to drink.

So while everyone celebrated in the palace after another boring day, the prince transformed into a more suitable appearance, taking on the form of a beautiful nobleman.

He assumed it would be enough to stay under the radar, unaware that his beauty and elegance would draw the attention of every maiden at the bar.

Leaving the celestial realm to dine among humans wasn’t exactly forbidden, but it was looked down upon for higher beings such as himself to dine amongst the common folk, hence the disguise.

Though, with his antler-like horns and claws, there was no doubt he was a being from the celestial realm.

As he walked through a quaint town, people stopped to stare, often with mouths agape.

He didn’t notice, eyes transfixed on the ground. All he could think of at the moment was finding something to drink his sorrows away.

In the distance, he saw the glow of warm lighting coming from a small tavern.

‘Perfect. Seems like a place the common folk gather. I should fit in well enough.’

Though he thought this, the second he walked in the bustling tavern grew quiet, all eyes on him. This wasn’t picked up by the prince, and he continued towards an empty table.

After getting comfortable, his mind began to wander. Life at the palace had been… stressful as of late.

He was used to the rumors, even used to people fearing and avoiding him. But what was unusual was his own insecurity in his heart.

Why hadn’t he found a mate yet? Part of him wandered if there was something inherently wrong with him. Although he hadn’t made much time to truly search out his soulmate, it shouldn’t have been so hard.

He was a prince… yet when he looked at the scars on his body that wouldn’t heal, he felt like a failure.

Weak.

As he sulked, he didn’t even notice that a glass of wine had been placed in front of him. What made his head snap up was the sound of a soft voice.

“Are you alright?”

He looked up, eyes wide as your smell hit his nose. That scent, the way it made his body react…

The woman before him was plump, your eyes giving him a soft and concerned look as you held the empty serving tray to your… ample chest.

It took him a moment to register your words. You glanced at him and then back at the bar, a nervous smile on you face.

You had never interacted with such a handsome man that was clearly of a higher class than yourself. Was it disrespectful to speak out of turn?

Your heart was kind and gentle, so you couldn’t help but speak up when he looked so down.

Once your words fully registered in his mind, he cleared his throat. This was all too much. For several months, nearly a year he had been halfheartedly searching for his mate, and here you were, in a random bar in the human realm.

His eyes moved from your face and down your body, taking in your features. Again, you were plump, with heavy looking breasts, a soft belly, and the outline of thick thighs and hips he could see through your dress.

A perfect mate.

The prince finally looked up, studying your face. Chubby cheeks, a soft smile, pretty eyes…

He had never put much thought into what his mate would look like, but now that he had seen you, he knew that this is all he could ever want.

“I’m alright… another glass, please.”

As you walked away with a flushed face, he downed his glass quickly to try and calm his racing heart. Gods, just the scent of you was enough to have him struggling to control himself.

“Here you are…”

You placed another glass in front of him, smiling shyly as he took it. He was handsome, regal and nearly lit up the room with his beauty. Everyone could tell he was not of this world, and you felt beyond honored to be the one who got to serve such a special man.

But in his mind his thoughts were far from graceful. His eyes didn’t leave your figure, continuing to glance at your hips and soft belly. Both features were absolutely perfect for breeding purposes…

“My dear, what is your name?”

You blinked, taking a moment to process his question. In all honesty you had been completely distracted by his beauty that you zoned out. This was so embarrassing, your cheeks heating up as you struggled to answer.

“M-my name? Oh it’s (Name)!” you babbled out, covering your mouth afterwards. Oh no, you probably sounded way too eager!

He just smirked, taking your hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “(Name)? That’s lovely… (Name).”

Your name being said by such a handsome man had your body feeling hot. This man was looking up at you with an air of confidence that had you flustered, your eyes unable to look into his.

Was it disrespectful to not answer? He was most likely a noble…

“Th… thank you, sir. It’s just a common name, I’d say.”

He reached out and cupped your cheek, his large palm warm against your face. “Perhaps, but it’s a name I will never forget.”

Your cheeks flushed at this, and you looked up at him through your eyelashes. That alone was enough to have his pants tighten.

The two of you exchanged longing glances throughout the night, and when your shift was ending, he stopped you before you could leave.

The dragon prince stood, his full height dwarfing you completely. “Come. Let us find somewhere quiet.”

Though you had always been warned by the tavern owner to never follow a guest outside, you were transfixed by his confident smile and intelligent eyes.

As he led you outside, his form seemed to almost… shift slightly. Though he still appeared mostly human, his horns grew longer and teeth sharper.

The moon shone down on them, their breaths coming out in white puffs. It was cold enough for you to shiver, but soon you were warmed by his embrace.

“It’s quite chilly at this time of night, is it not? Stay by my side.”

He led you through the night, the only light that of the shining moon. When it was covered by clouds, he still had no issue guiding you around uneven terrain and the occasional tree root.

It was then you realized there was no way he was human. You had your suspicions before, but it wasn’t uncommon for some human mages to take on animal features to help them with their magic endeavors.

This man, however, was no mage or lowly magical creature. You could tell by the way the moonlight enveloped his body, making him glow in the dark of night.

“What are your plans for me?”

Your voice was shaky, but you felt no fear. The trembling came from a sense of excitement and lust.

And he could smell how wet you were.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead lifting you over a puddle of water and setting you down on the other side.

The dragon prince paused after this, cupping your cheek as he took in your curious expression.

“I will take you on as a mate. From the moment I saw you, it was clear you were the one I have been looking for.”

He cleared his throat before he continued.

“I am the current celestial dragon prince. You will love a life of luxury and never be without…”

It was hard for him to speak when he could smell your arousal growing thick in the air, his own scent mixing in. “… will you be mine?”

Your body felt so warm, you wanted so badly to say yes…

But it didn’t feel real. He was bound to you of all people? You were a lowly tavern barmaid, born into a life of poverty. Nothing about you was inherently special and it was hard to comprehend anyone as beautiful as him wanting to spend his eternal life with you.

“You… are joking, right? Did you drink too much?”

The words coming out of your mouth felt wrong. You could feel the sexual tension in the air, yet your mind wouldn’t listen to your body’s natural instincts.

“I do not joke about things as serious as this, my love. I am your mate, we are tied together by fate.”

He lifted your hand, kissing the back of it.

“How can I prove to you that I am serious?”

Before you could answer his form began to shift again, his hands becoming claws. It was getting even harder to hold back, and you were soon lifted into his arms.

“I can’t… hold back anymore… since I realized you were my mate, I’ve been dying to taste you.”

The world became blurry, your body growing hot and your head woozy as everything faded and shifted. Next thing you knew, the two of you were in an intricately decorated room.

You were set onto the softest bed you had ever felt, given no time to take in your surroundings.

He was already opening your thighs, sniffing at your clothed cunt. A groan left his lips, his long black hair tickling your sensitive thighs as he dipped his head between them.

“Gods, you smell delicious. Please… I must taste you.”

You swallowed when his nose rubbed against your inner thigh. The way he was looking up at you had your heart thumb ping rapidly in your chest.

“A-alright…”

Within seconds of your consent his claws ripped through your underwear and his face was buried between your thighs.

His tongue swirled around your clit, and all you could do was moan and hold onto his horns for support.

He grabbed hold of your hips, squeezing the soft fat and pulling you closer. Your pussy had already been drooling with need, and now you felt your arousal dripping down your thighs, his chin covered in your slick.

It was erotic, the sound of his grunts and groans filling the air with each lap of his tongue. You tasted divine, and he was losing himself in you.

Nothing else besides you mattered in this moment. All he could think of was how good it felt to have your thighs squeezing around his head. The moans you let out had his cock twitching incessantly, and he wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer.

“Gods…”

He pulled back, looking at the wet mess your fat pussy had become. Your eyes were glazed over, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath.

How many times have you orgasmed so far? You felt almost selfish, already wanting more from him after he just pleasured you.

“My sweet little mate, how do you feel now? My precious, you’re glowing.”

He almost purred when he leaned forward, breathing softly against your neck. You let out a content sigh, reaching up to play with his long black hair.

“Mmm… I’m feeling pretty tired, I’d say… I’ve been working since noon.”

He stiffened a bit at that, resting his chin on your head. The prince did not enjoy thinking about you working so hard. Even though he had only known you for a few hours, you were his mate.

“Well, my dove, do not worry your pretty little head anymore. You will work another day in your life. From now on, you will be pampered and taken care of… I guarantee it.”

Despite how his cock ached to be inside of you, he decided to wait until you were rested to properly mate with you. It would take more energy and leave you exhausted…

You fell asleep in his arms, feeling so warm and safe. How long had it been since you had been held? That last time you could remember was your childhood, when you were just a tiny thing.

He made you feel small, protected, and… so, so warm.

In the morning you awoke, stretching with a yawn as you sleepily stood to get ready for your job. It was strange, when you reached for your apron on your nightstand, you couldn’t find it.

That’s when you remembered the previous night.

Your face warmed immediately, and you barely held back an embarrassed squeal when you noticed the man groan tiredly, his face buried in your chest.

“Go back to sleep, love…”

It was too early in the morning for you to protest, and you haven't slept in since you were a child. It felt nice, getting to fall back asleep in his arms, his hair tickling your cheek.

You listened to his breathing, smiling sleepily. His sharp claws slowly ran through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp to lull you back into slumber.

The next time you woke up it was nearly noon. This was beyond embarrassing, even as a child you had only slept in this much when you were deathly ill. The prince still attempted to get you to stay in bed longer, but when you protested he huffed.

“Alright, alright… stubborn little thing, aren’t you?”

He snapped his fingers, servant girls appearing at your side immediately.

“Your highness,” they greeted, bowing before your bedmate. The prince waved a hand dismissively, rubbing his temple.

“Take my mate and get her a bath and some fresh clothes. Treat her well, she is your future empress after all.”

The servant girls bowed again, raising their hands. “Yes, at once.”

They led you away, and you could only look back pathetically as he lounged in bed, watching you go with a smirk. Your plump rear was certainly a nice sight, and your hips swayed deliciously while you were guided away.

He couldn’t wait to feel how warm your cunt was when he sank into you that night.

As you were led down the halls and into the bathhouse, you saw female royals and nobles alike being pampered by the servants. They were fed grapes, massaged, and even dressed.

You weren’t even sure if they had ever lifted a hand to take care of themselves your entire life. It left you feeling sour. Every day had been a struggle to even put food on the table, much less properly take care of yourself, and here these women were completely pampered to the point their skin glowed.

In all honesty you had never seen yourself as anything special, but before you at least thought you could marry someone with a bit of wealth and settle down peacefully.

After seeing the beauties of the castle, you were left feeling… insecure. How could you ever compete with these gorgeous women?

Without much warning you were stripped down to your birthday suit. The servants weren’t rough, but they weren’t exactly gentle either as they helped you into the bath and scrubbed at your skin.

“Filthy, and you slept in the same bed as the prince. Have you no shame, human?”

You flinched as their nails dug lightly into your scalp. It was painful, but you dared not to make a sound.

“And those rags you wore… just disrespectful, I’ll say.”

Unfortunately, you agreed wholeheartedly, and wondered why such an elegant and noble person such as him dared to even touch you. After all, you had the entire day’s sweat and dirt decorating your skin and clothes.

Unbeknownst to you, the fact that you had been sweaty and strongly scented played a big part in his list for you. A mate was meant to smell like themselves, and to him you smelled absolutely divine.

You looked away in shame as you were rinsed off. Although you felt rather uncomfortable, the floral scent of the soaps and the quality didn’t go unnoticed by you. Never before had you had access to such luxurious toiletries. It was rare for you to have scented soap, but this moisturized your skin and made you feel like a brand new person.

“Worry not, we are well aware of the prince’s mating bond with you. Be you royalty or common folk, we will ensure you will look the part of a princess.”

With that, you were quickly dried off and moved along towards a dressing room.

As you waited in a small room, being told to water yourself, you could hear voices speaking softly nearby.

“Truly, one could even feel sorry for a common girl marrying that insane prince.”

“Oh, dear heavens, do not let any of the celestial royalty hear such things.”

“But I am not wrong, am I? I worry he will simply dispose of her when he is done. Even the humans know that the celestial beings here can do with them as they please and no one will bat an eye.”

You stayed quiet, simply staying near the warm hearth as you continued to dry off slowly. Of course you had heard rumors of the infamous deities residing within the celestial realm.

None of those rumors were good.

Despite feeling a bit nervous, you shook off their words. Even if you were to be tossed aside, you wanted to spend at least one day feeling beautiful and… loved.

If what this was could even qualify as love.

He had called you his mate, did celestial beings mate for life? You were human, it was something hard for your mortal mind to comprehend.

A mate… like a soulmate perhaps? Did that mean he thought the two of you were destined for one another?

Could that mean that none of this was natural, that you were bound together without much choice?

What if he was desperate for a mate and didn’t truly love you?

These thoughts swirled around your head as you were brought into the dressing room.

Before you, rows upon rows of dresses and different types of clothing you had never seen before hung on racks. A few servant girls were already waiting in front of a mirror, holding measuring tape.

“Stand here while we take your measurements.”

You held out your arms, cheeks hot as your naked body was put on display for various women. Their expressions were neutral, and they simply figured out what size you were before running off to fetch various clothing items.

This only added on to your stress.

“Your own personal wardrobe will be prepared shortly, but as the seamstresses are working, you will wear pre-prepared dresses.”

You were dressed in something elegant and flowy, a light blue and white in color. It was something you had never worn before, the fabric soft yet thick and warm.

“With a bit of work, you will be ready for the banquet tonight. For now, the prince is requesting your presence at his bedside once more.”

A servant girl led you way, and you heard the others discussing how to prepare your hair and makeup later in the evening.

You were not looking forward to that.

You were led back to the room you woke up in. The smell of incense wafted from under the door, the lavender and vanilla scent making you relax.

“Come in,” the prince called out after the servant girl knocked. After being ushered in, you slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room and opened your eyes.

He was laid out in the bed, taking in your new look with eager eyes. “Mmm… you clean up nicely, though I preferred your scent before.”

The prince gestured for you to join him in bed, and you quickly scurried to his side, shyly climbing in next to him. “What’s the reason for all this timid behavior? My tongue was buried deep inside of you last night, was it not? There’s nothing to be shy about.”

Your cheeks heated up once again, and you avoided his gaze. “S-saying things like that… isn’t it a bit inappropriate for a p… prince? Won’t they-“

He laughed, grabbing your chin and turning you to face him. “And you think a prince would care who hears him speaking to his mate as he pleases? You are mine, how I talk to you is no one’s business.”

The way he spoke made a shiver go down your spine. He was so confident… and you?

You were the daughter of a simple tavern owner, having no prospects other than hopefully marrying a decent man that would take good care of you.

Though you could feel your body yearning to be near him, almost instinctively drawing closer, you thought it was… strange.

Was the only thing connecting you to this beautiful man instinct? Though you ached when he looked your way, you couldn’t help but feel empty.

What other reason than being forced by fate would a man like him choose to be by your side?

You softened when the pads of his fingertips slowly slid down your side. He was gentle with you, though you had the feeling he wasn’t always like this.

“Come closer, I wish to hold you.”

Slowly you climbed to his side, melting into his touch when he cupped your chubby cheek.

The servant girls called him insane before, insinuating he was cruel and beastly.

But could someone with a touch this gentle truly hurt you?

“You look lovely. Perfect, I’d say,” he mumbled, burying his nose into your hair. You held onto his sleeve, feeling his horns lightly rub against you.

“… you call me lovely, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more handsome man than you.”

He chuckled, his chest tumbling pleasantly. “Am I? Darling, you’re going to make me blush.”

You could tell he was lightly teasing you, which led you to letting out an involuntary huff. This made the dragon prince’s laugh increase in volume.

“Oh? My little mate is pouting now? How cute.”

He tilted your chin up, taking in the way your chubby cheeks puffed out lightly, and how your lips pursed.

“Ahh, you’re going to be the end of me, darling. I can hardly control myself when you’re looking at me like that,” he purred, his voice almost a growl.

Before he could continue his teasing, there was another knock at the door. His demeanor shifted from relaxed and amused to irritated in seconds.

“Who dares to interrupt my time with my precious mate?”

You rested your head against his chest as a woman entered. She certainly was no servant girl, you could tell by the silk and thick wool she wore.

“Mother…”

He held you close, wrapping his arms around your body and tucking your head under his chin. It was almost like an animal protecting its young from a vicious predator.

The woman before you had icy blue eyes, dark hair, and pale skin. It was almost like she was looking into your soul, judging you from within.

Though she looked so different from the prince, he called her his mother…

“You are to report to your father within the hour with your… so called mate. He will be the judge on if this is an actual mating bond this time. You should hope it is, to save yourself the embarrassment.”

With one last look that could freeze hell itself, she turned away, a servant girl shutting the door for her.

You looked up to ask the prince about the woman from before, but he looked distant and cold himself. He stared at your soft body, caressing your cheek and keeping you close to his chest.

“… worry not about that hag, my love. She is not my true mother, simply a woman the emperor, my father has married.”

Though he told you not to worry, the way he held you was enough to have you tense.

The prince held you as if letting you go could only invite trouble… and you knew that woman was the reason for his uneasiness.

Walking with him through the halls made you feel like a princess. People bowed as you passed by, but you noticed others retreated out of fear. Though he kept up a cold facade, you could feel his grip tighten on your hand each time a servant or royal scurried away.

Her presence definitely had a profound effect on him.

He stopped before a massive door, so big it could easily crush you if it were to fall forward. Carved into the dark oak were images of what you could only assume was the banquet of the Chinese zodiac.

They danced and feasted all over the door, and in the center was a dragon watching over them all. The eyes of the dragon were encrusted with sparkling red jewels, and it almost felt like they followed your every movement.

The doors opened, relieving you of the dragon’s intense stare… only for you to come face to face with a real one.

“Father,” the prince acknowledged the dragon, bowing low before you blinked rapidly.

“F-father!?”

The dragon before you was easily the size of the tavern you worked at, if bigger. It sat on a (most likely) custom made thrown, glaring down at your with red eyes that matched the one from the door.

“Ah, your mate already sees me as a father. How cute.”

You stiffened as the dragon stood, causing the palace to shake. Everywhere you turned, people either continued on or stood politely nearby, completely… calm!?

So, trying to fit in, you bit the inside of your cheek and looked up, meeting his eye. You reached out your hand as he approached.

“It’s good to meet you, y-your highness. My name is (Name).”

The prince gave you an amused, incredulous look from the corner of his eye, but you could see the way the corner of his mouth twitched in panic.

The floor shook with the emperor’s laughter, his tail lashing behind him and knocking over a potted plant.

“My son, your supposed mate is quite funny. She offers me her hand like a commoner would, not surprising considering her upbringing.”

Though his words sounded rude, there was no malice behind it. He reached out one of his claws, and you shook it.

It took you a moment to register the cool feeling of his claw turning into the warmth of a human hand. He had shifted into a more humanoid form… and a handsome one at that.

Though he was older and taller, you could tell the resemblance to the prince. He was definitely his father, there was no doubting that.

“I assume this form may be less threatening to a human such as yourself. It may not seem like it, but I take no pleasure in frightening those who may become my family.”

His touch was firm, but not rough. The emperor moved away from you just as the prince’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

“Ah, my apologies, son. She’s yours, isn’t she?”

The prince’s appearance had changed slightly, his dragon features becoming more prominent. Dark scales appeared along his face and arms, his horns growing in size to the point they looked too heavy for his head.

It was clear he was incredibly protective of you, disliking his father being too friendly with his mate. It made you feel quite happy, seeing how worked up he got over a perceived threat.

Your fingertips lights caressed his cheek, and slowly he calmed down. His scales flattened out into smooth skin again, and he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, kissing his cheek. “Don’t fuss, everything will be okay.”

Something about you soothed his soul in a way no one else could. To anyone watching, it was obvious that you were his soulmate.

“It seems you have finally found the one, my son.”

Your hand suddenly grew hot, and you yelped as you held your hand up to see what was causing the sudden pain.

There was now a ring on your ring finger, the color of the stone the same as the prince’s eyes. On his hand was a matching band, encrusted with jewels that matched your eyes.

“I have recognized your mating bond as being valid. The wedding shall take place when the moon is full once more.”

The prince squeezed your hand, his thumb running over your new ring possessively. You could tell by the way he sniffed at you that he was eager to get you back to his bedroom.

Though part of you was thrilled to be tied to someone that made your heart flutter inside your chest… insecurities still lingered in your mind.

Did he truly love you? You’d only known him for 24 hours, there was no way he could… it all had to be because of your mating bond…

Right..?

Almost as if sensing your unease, the emperor chuckled. “My son, it seems you and your mate are eager to consummate this mating bond. Perhaps it’s time to show her your feelings.”

With that, he gave a nod to one of the deities lounging about nearby. “Begin preparations for the wedding… and tell everyone that interrupting the future emperor and empress tonight will bring severe punishments.”

The two of you were dismissed with a wave of the emperor’s hand, and your lover was quick to gather you in his arms and carry you back to his room.

“Father may be intimidating and married to the most evil bitch alive, but at least he can understand that the newly tied need privacy.”

You whimpered when his face nuzzled against your neck, your heart beating faster as he inhaled your scent.

“Gods… I’ll be mating with you before the banquet, I cannot hold back any longer…”

The second the door to his room was closed, his lips smashed into yours. He was desperate for you, his hands roaming your plump hips and holding on tightly.

“Your scent has been driving me insane… I need you, darling…”

You let out a whimper as he lowered you onto the bed, your thighs trembling lightly at the memory of last night. Pleasures unimaginable had been given to you, and you were sure that it would only get better now.

But…

“… are you sure this is what you want?”

His lips paused on your neck, his hands moving from your hips to your face. He held onto your chin, tilting it up to meet his face. “… what do you mean, my love? Of course I want you, we’re mates-“

“Is that the only reason!?”

His eyes widened when you raised your voice, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. The past day you had been doubting his love for you, seeing it as only instinctual…

“(Name)… you don’t understand how much I adore you.”

You melted as he kisses your eyelids, his touch tender and affectionate. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were the one. Mating bonds are important, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you outside of it. You’re kind, you make me smile and feel like…”

He sighed, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Let me show you something.”

The prince pulled back, and you felt your body ache when his warmth faded from your skin. He slowly disrobed, letting the expensive fabric fall to the ground.

His torso was littered with scars, long and jagged, all seemed to be caused by fighting. The prince didn’t meet your eye as he spoke.

“Most celestial deities heal wounds like these easily, but try as I might, these scars do not seem to heal. It is because… I am weak.”

He hung his head in shame, hair falling to hide his face. “How can I even think of taking care of a mate when I can’t even protect you? I’m-

You reached out and grabbed his hand before he continued. You placed your fingertips over one of his scars, shaking your head.

“Don’t say that…”

It was quiet, your touch soothing on his scarred skin. He shuddered as your traces each wound, every movement of your fingers tender and full of love.

“Having scars doesn’t make you weak, not at all… it shows you’ve survived so much… it’s evidence of how strong you are.”

The prince did not say anything, simply wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest. All he could have ever wanted was his mate to accept him as he was, completely.

You truly were meant to be his.

“I need you, (Name), my love… my body burns with desire every time you touch me.”

He had waited long enough. Being so close to you had caused him to slowly enter an almost rut like state. If he couldn’t mate with you soon, he’d go crazy.

“Then I want you to have me… I need to be yours…” you said, leaning into his touch. His chest tumbled at your words, the scales from before coming back. This time it wasn’t out of anger, no, he was very pleased.

“As you wish, my love. I will make you mine entirely, just give me your trust and I will give you my heart.”

This time you initiated the kiss, much to his delight. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in.

A battle for dominance began, your tongues fighting but you gave in quickly. He was strong, and you wanted him to ravish you. You were giving yourself to him.

He was quick to shred through your clothes. The displeasure of such a nice dress going to waste only lasted for a second before you melted into his arms.

“Divine, just gorgeous…” he murmured, groping one of your breasts. “You’re truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…”

He lightly tugged at one of your nipples, the other one sucked on lightly. His tongue swirled around the perky bud, his free hand moving downwards, towards your clothed cunt.

For a minute he rubbed you through your underwear, lightly circling your clit. His ear twitched when you let out a breathy moan, your hips bucking lightly into his hand.

His cock twitched, already erect and desperate to be inside of you. But he was a gentleman, and couldn’t bear the thought of potentially hurting his mate.

So he was gentle, removing your soaked underwear and prodding at your needy hole. “Look at that, someone is excited…”

“Says you…” you managed to get out between moans, feeling his fingers curl up and hit the perfect spot inside of you. “You’re spilling precum all over my thighs…”

He grinned, enjoying your back and forth banter. “Oh? Then perhaps it’s time to get on with it. After all…”

His head pushed against your cunt, eliciting a moan from both of you. “I don’t want to waste a single drop of my seed… it all needs to be inside of my mate…”

And then he penetrated you. At first it hurt, the stretch feeling uncomfortable, like you were being pulled apart. You’d never seen a human man naked, but you assumed he was bigger than average.

If you had to guess, you’d say he was around 8-9 inches long, and girty too. Taking him wasn’t easy, and he hated seeing tears well up in your eyes because of him.

Being inside of you felt heavenly. You were warm and tight, and he could cum just from being fully sheathed in your fat cunt… but he felt terrible for feeling so much pleasure while you were in pain.

“It’s going to be alright, sweetheart…” he murmured, one of his claws caressing your hips. “I’m going to be gentle, this pain won’t last for long…”

He peppered kisses along your neck, waiting patiently for you to calm down and for the pain to ease. The prince was well aware of the size difference between you and him, and that if he wasn’t careful during mating, his form could shift and grow larger, potentially harming you.

He was right, soon the pain began to ebb away, dulling until all you could feel was pleasure washing over your body. His cock twitched inside of you, and you arched your back.

“Ready?”

You nodded, your chest rising and falling as your breathing picked up. He could feel how wet you were, and began to move slowly.

The moan the movements of his lips elicited from you caused him to groan, his eyes flicking to your flustered face.

“M-more… please?”

Though there was part of him that wanted to make you beg and plead for more, he wanted to fuck you too much to pause and wait. They had all of the time in the world to make love, but right now he needed you desperately.

His hips slapped against yours as he picked up the pace, claws gripping so tightly that you could feel them piercing your skin.

But that light pain paled in comparison to the intense pleasure you felt as your velvety walls clenched around him in your first orgasm of the night.

“So good… so fucking good…”

He groaned into your neck, breathing your scent mixed in with the smell of sex in the air. The prince could have gotten drunk off of that alone.

Your head soon grew fuzzy with pleasure, and all you could think of was how good it felt to be absolutely ravished by your mate.

All thoughts of gentleness were thrown out the window as he threw one of your legs over his shoulder so he could push deeper inside. He watched as he cock moved in and out, covered in your slick…

When he came, you felt yourself being stretched, his cock swelling inside of you. So much cum was stuffed into your womb, your tummy full of his seed.

Something about being filled with your mate’s cum felt… right. Like it was the natural thing to do, he needed to stuff you full of his seed like a good mate should…

He stayed inside for a while, rutting against you even as he continued to cum. He didn’t want to leave your warmth…

But despite that, he was nowhere near satisfied… but despite your whines, he pulled out a moment later.

“… gods… don’t fret, my love… we can continue after dinner. Trust me, you’ll need your energy for tonight.”

He gave your clit one last teasing flick before pulling your soaked panties back over your cunt.

“Ah, my love… you’ll need another bath. I’ll fetch the-“

You held onto his hand, shaking your head. “I wanna… take a bath with you…”

In reality you didn’t want to be with those gossiping women again. The things they said about the prince upset you, and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to hold your tongue this time.

Even if some of the rumors might be true, your mate wasn’t some monster. He was kind to you, he yearned for acceptance in a world that deemed him weak for having scars.

“A bath with me, hmm? Can’t get enough of me can you?”

Though he was teasing you, it was clear the fact you wanted to stay near him brought the prince endless joy. “It seems my puppy knows where her home is already.”

This made you pout, and he cooed over you. “Oh, don’t make that face, I’m joking.”

With that he lifted you up, kissing your forehead. “Of course you can bathe with me. I’d rather not have anyone else see you covered in my seed anyways.”

You let him rinse you off, his hands lingering on your messy cunt as his cock fucked your thighs. You were both still feeling needy, wanting to fuck like rabbits, but were holding back.

It wasn’t easy, and you felt your cheeks grow warm over how much a whore you’d become in 24 hours. All you could think of was him sinking his cock inside of you again…

“Mmm…” he purred against your neck, rubbing the washcloth over your tits as his cock stayed nestled between your thighs. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your body…”

He gently squished your soft belly, playing with your warm and malleable fat. “So squishy, I love it so much…”

From one look around the palace you noticed most of the women were quite thin, so it was safe to assume he really had never been in the arms of a woman like you.

You were chubby, with thick thighs and an ample bosom. To just commoners, you were seen as a fertile woman that could handle childbirth without any problems.

And it seemed his dragon side went completely feral at that thought.

The two of you cuddled as you waited for the servant girls to bring your fitted dresses. There was a fluffy robe for each of you waiting on the freshly cleaned bed after your bath.

This was what being rich probably felt like. Being waited on hand and foot, not even having to tell someone to clean your cum and sweat soaked sheets.

With an embarrassed squee, you made a mental note to thank the women that had to clean that up later. It couldn’t have been an easy task.

A knock on the door caused you to look up. The servant girl from before bowed, walking in and offering her hand.

“I can dress you n-“

The prince pulled you back into his lap, growling lowly as his scales popped up all over his body. Even his face looked more reptilian than human.

“Don’t you dare touch her without my permission.”

You blinked in surprise, glancing up at him and raising an eyebrow. He seemed almost feral, and you could feel him rubbing against you, trying to make sure you were covered in his scent.

The servant girl was on the floor, trembling and holding her arms up to defend herself, which caused your mate to ease up. You could tell he felt guilty for lashing out at a defenseless woman, but he was on edge knowing you’d be seeing his stepmother again at dinner.

“… I apologize, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

His grip loosened on you, allowing you to feel all forward and help the woman up. “Get her dressed… then take the day off.”

You glanced back at him as the servant girl dressed yiu with shaking hands. It was clear he felt terrible despite the cold facade he had up. You knew you mate well, already able to tell when he was upset.

“My love…”

He perked up when you were fully dressed, your hair and makeup done to perfection. The prince’s tail slapped against the floor, his cheeks flushed a light pink.

“You’re gorgeous…”

When he realized how lovestruck he looked, the prince cleared his throat. His signature cocky smirk overtook his face once more, and he offered his arm to you. “May I escort you to the banquet, my princess?”

You gave him a fond smile, taking his arm. “It would be an honor, my prince.”

He escorted you to the banquet, barely holding back from grabbing your ass as his hand slipped to your lower back. You just smelled way too fragrant, making his cock twitch in his pants as he imagined being inside of you again.

“Welcome.”

The prince froze in place, his hand pausing on the small of your back as he met eyes with his father’s wife.

“Mother. Thank you for putting this together…” he said, his tail slowly wrapping around your lower half and pulling you close. It seemed his dragon features became more prominent when he wanted to protect you…

“I hope your little… mate knows proper etiquette. She will not embarrass me at this banquet. Having a commoner, a mere human peasant as a mate is already humiliating enough, so make sure you keep her in check.”

Your smile faltered, an uncomfortable silence falling over the two of you.

The prince’s jaw tensed up. “… don’t speak of her as if she is not here. Whether you like it or not, she’s my mate and I love her.”

Her face became even colder, her eyes narrowing. “You should watch who you’re talking to. I’m the empress, y-“

“And? (Name) will soon be the empress herself, so have some damn respect!”

His stepmother drew back, clutching her pearls. “I hope you know your father will hear about this!”

With that, she turned on her heels and left. You glanced at him, holding onto his sleeve. “… why does she treat you like that? You don’t deserve it…”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “It’s because I’m the son of a concubine. She hasn’t been able to birth a son for my father, meaning none of her children will be able to take the throne. It’s pathetic, and I’m not afraid of her anymore.”

He pulled out your chair for you, smiling fondly. “When I was a child, she used to terrorize me… but I have someone I need to protect now. I don’t have time to be afraid of some old hag.”

Before you could sit, he took your seat and pulled you into his lap. “Maybe it’s better if you stay close. She can be pretty vindictive. And…”

You felt his bulge rub lightly against you.

“We should have some fun at our own banquet, shouldn’t we?”

The table was filled with various foods, some you had never seen before, but everything smelled absolutely delicious.

There were deities taking seats all around you, some glancing your way but quickly turning when the prince bared his fangs. Not a single person dared to challenge him, not when his protectiveness was high due to mating with you for the first time.

The emperor and empress entered the banquet hall, and everyone stood besides you and the prince. He kept you seated on his lap, lightly moving your hips along his clothed erection.

The two took their seats, and the emperor waved his hand, causing everyone to sit as well.

“As you all know by now, you've all been gathered here to celebrate my son’s success in finding his mate. Now that he has one, the throne shall be passed down to him after the wedding.”

Whispers broke out among the dinner guests, some upset and others curious. You wanted to hide away, having everyone’s eyes on you made your heart race.

“Silence.”

Not a single peep could be heard when the emperor’s voice rang out in the banquet hall, echoing off the walls.

“I heard my son was disrespectful towards the empress. Was that right, my son?”

The empress stared down at the happy couple, her lip twitching into a sinister smile. The prince gave his father a nod.

“She bad mouthed my mate. If you were in my shoes, you would have done the same thing.”

Before the empress could retort, the emperor held up his hand. “I see. I hope my family can get along in the future. After all, my son will soon be the emperor.”

His eyes shifted towards the empress. “Some of you would do well to remember that soon, he will be the one in charge.”

The empress quietly seethed after that, and the banquet continued without a hitch. As you ate, he rubbed at your belly, his fingers occasionally brushing against your crotch.

He was an absolute horndog, needing you like a man dying of thirst needs water.

“We’ll be taking our leave now,” your mate announced once you both had your fill. He did nothing to hide his erection, lifting you into his arms.

“I hope you keep your promise to make sure no one bothers us, father.”

The emperor simply chuckled, waving the two of you away. “Go on, you won’t be disturbed.”

With every step he took towards your shared bedchambers, the prince became more beastly. It seemed it was hard to keep his human form when he was this needy for you.

The second you were both behind closed doors, his cock was already out of his pants and rubbing against your back, his hands trembling with excitement as he lifted your dress to stare at your drooling cunt.

“You need me, don’t you princess?”

His fingers dragged along your wetness, gathering up your slick before bringing it to his mouth. “I could taste you for hours…”

You felt his fingers pump in and out of you, and this time he wasn’t as gentle. He bit down on your thigh, leaving a few hickeys and bite marks along your soft flesh.

Anyone that saw you would know you were his, the prince would make sure of that.

Your brain was already starting to turn to mush, you weren’t sure if you’d be completely luciduribg this. It just felt so good, he was an expert at this.

His long, textured tongue lapped at your folds. It was almost like a cat’s tongue, just less rough, and it was replacing his fingers. That’s how long it was.

He tongue fucked you, his hands squeezing your thighs as he drew out your moans and cries, lightly smacking your ass when you squirmed. It was a gentle warning to stay still…

The prince wanted to enjoy his meal.

You came around his tongue, clenching as your hips bucked wildly upwards, and only then did he draw back and give you a lust filled look.

That’s when he slowly pushed his cock into you, the familiar feeling of you warmth making him melt against you. Nothing else had ever made him feel so at home, he only got this feeling when he was buried inside of your cunt. This was where he was supposed to plant his seed, and he had to breed you.

He rammed into you, moving his lips to your neck to suck and bite at you as he pounded your poor pussy.

But after a moment, he pulled out, his hand on your belly as he panted softly. The way you whimpered and begged for him to continue was endearing, but he had other things in mind.

“You’re mine… and I just can’t hold back anymore…”

His form frew, his cock nearly doubling inside as he became the closest to a dragon yet. Dark scales covered his body, massive arms at eaither of your sides keeping you caged underneath him. His scaly underbelly brushed against you,

Though his cock was intimidatingly big and would stretch you out to your limit, he knew he could fit it inside of you.

It throbbed, laying against your belly as he leaned forward to nudge his dragon head against your face in an affectionate and possessive display.

Though for a moment you felt fear seeing such a beast hovering over you, his eyes met yours and you relaxed. This was still the prince… and you loved him even in this form. Not despite it, no, you adored his smooth black scales that felt like cool river rocks and the warmth of his belly.

“I need you…” he murmured, his chest rumbling with a purr. “If… you don’t want this, I’ll-“

You lifted your hips, letting the top lip of his cock rub against your folds. He let out a growl, his hips snapping forward, and you felt him pushing in.

Even though the stretch felt like your virginity was being taken for a second time, you kissed his snout. “O want this…”

With your confirmation, he sunk fully in, giving you a moment to adjust before he began to move.

Moans and whimpers echoed through the room as your lover fucked you stupid. With each slap of his hips against yours, you saw stars.

Your tummy bulged with his cock, his claw running over the imprint. “You’re taking me so well, such a good little mate…”

His balls tightened, and he roared as he came inside of you for the first time that night. Hot, thick ropes of sticky cum shot inside of you, filling your womb and making your belly feel hot.

But he wasn’t done with you, not even close.

The prince turned you on your back, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he mounted you, pounding your pussy at an animalistic pace. Your cunt clenched around him so perfectly, the fat flesh on your ass rippling with each powerful thrust.

A clawed hand reached between your legs, carefully rubbing at your clit. He loved the way you came around his cock, how you cried out for more even as you were stuffed to the brink with his cum.

“I know, my sweet, you want it all don’t you? Selfish little thing, but I love you all the same.”

He pushed your face into the pillow, growling and purring into your ear as he listened to your muffled moans. You were drooling, your eyes glazed over with pleasured tears, and his chest swelled with pride to know he was the one making you feel this way.

No one else could see you in this state. Your body bare and covered in your own cum, his beginning to drip out of your cunt. You were an utter mess, only able to moan and babble out pleas for more, and each time you did he fulfilled your requests.

After all, he was a good mate. You wanted him to touch you, to increase his speed, or change the angle of his hips so his cock hit the perfect spot? He’d do so in a heartbeat, all to please you.

The prince slumped over you, slowly reverting back to his humanoid form as he came inside of you again. You were worn out, and he could see your pussy clenching around nothing when he pulled out.

“Aww, still needy…”

He gathered up some of his cum, cooing softly as he shoved it back into you with his fingers, pumping them in and out. “Look at you, wasting all of this. Naughty girl, do I have to start all over again?”

The night was long, and every time you grew too exhausted to carry on, he used a bit of his power to rejuvenate you. Heated kisses were left along your bruised skin, a satisfied purr leaving his throat as he spotted some of the hickeys and bites he had given you earlier.

“You look so pretty, decorated with my marks. No one else would dare to even lay a finger on you, not when you’re completely covered in my scent and bites.”

He nuzzled against your neck as you sat on his lap, cockwarming him. The prince was kind enough to give you a break, though he couldn’t bear to pull out of you, even for a second.

The prince smiled fondly, rubbing his hand over your swollen belly. “You know… I’d be happy if you were able to carry my young, but I know there’s a chance it won’t happen due to our difference in anatomy.”

He nibbled softly on your neck and shoulder. “But I don’t care, you’re my mate regardless. Having children would be nice but it’s not a necessity.”

You sighed in relief. In all honesty, part of you had been afraid he would abandon you for another celestial deity if you could not produce an heir. You were only human after all…

His teeth grazed your jaw, but you felt no fear. “Mmm… I’ve only known you a day but it feels like an eternity. Perhaps that is what being soul bonded to someone feels like…”

“I feel that way too… it’s like we’ve always been together, or at least… we were meant to be.”

The two of you shared a kiss, one of his hands on your ample breast, squeezing the soft flesh as his tongue ran across yours.

Once you both were worn out and the sun had come up, he finally curled up in bed with you to rest properly. Binge again you felt almost like a newborn baby being held and protected, safe and warm. You were getting used to this kind of thing… getting used to being loved.

When you awoke with a whine, you were being carried away by the prince. He glanced down, giving you a quick kiss. “Quiet now, love. We’re going to escape for a bit. Let’s call it our early honeymoon.”

You let out a laugh, quickly shushed by your mate. “But we haven’t even married yet, love.”

The prince grinned. “Yes, but once we’re married I’ll have too many responsibilities to take care of because I’ll be emperor. Let’s enjoy our freedom until then.”

He leapt across a sea of stars, and you reached down to touch it. Bits of stardust clung to your fingertips, glowing brightly.

“There’s a hot spring, we’ll relax there for a few days… or until they notice we’re missing.”

The celestial hot springs were beautiful, and once you stepped into the water, you felt your body relax and melt. “Oh wow…”

The prince pulled you in, holding you in his lap. “B-but this isn’t the mixed bath, you shouldn’t-“

You were quieted when his cock nudged against you. The two of you were both still very sensitive from your mating bond, there was no way you could say no to having him inside of you.

“Mmm…”

He admired your curves, one of his hands giving your soft belly a squish as you lowered yourself onto his cock. “Pretty girl knows where the best seat in the house is, doesn’t she?”

You pouted, but he was right. The last few days had been utter bliss, you were already addicted to your mate’s scent and cum.

Just a whiff of his cologne or musk was enough to have you clench around him, and he was close to bursting when he smelled your arousal.

“Good girl, my sweet little mate…”

He bounced you on his cock lazily, sinking into the water a bit as he licked at your neck.

“I love you, (Name).”

You leaned against his chest, letting him guide your hips up and down. He was good at this, knowing when to speed up or change his rhythm to really get you going.

“And I love you, my prince. More than anything… you’ve made my life worth living.”

He tucked your head under his chin, embracing you. It wasn’t long before the two of you were done in the hot springs and ready to continue your love making in the bedroom.

The two of you spent several days at the hot spring, enjoying the water, food, and making love as often as possible. By the time someone came to pick you up, you were sure the hot spring was at least 80% cum.

‘Sorry, future customer,’ you thought to yourself, leaving against the prince as he guided you to the carriage.

It had all been like a dream. He had whisked you away into a fairy tale world, making you feel like a real life princess.

For the rest of your life, he would worship and adore you. With every kiss and touch, that fact was made clear.

To be loved by the prince was an honor. You were the thing he treasured the most, and you would continue to love him just as he was.

“Do you think dreams come true?” your asked, leaning against his shoulder as the carriage continued on towards the palace.

“Mhm, I do,” the prince murmured, pulling you closer. “Because I’ve been dreaming of this my entire life… and I finally have you.”

You smiled and drifted off in his arms, feeling like the luckiest girl ever.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[cjjohansson]

i remember.

natasha romanoff x reader - angst, fluff - 6.2k

You don’t know what’s happening. That’s the first thing you think of when you wake up in an alley, gloved hands covered in blood. Confusion filters through your head. 

What happened?

Where are you?

You stand up slowly, your body swaying as you look down at what you’re wearing. You’re in a pair of black jeans, with rips throughout both legs and as you look closer you only notice how the rips have been made from slashes of a knife as your blood is dry underneath them. Your hoodie is soaking wet, your hands going into the pocket to be met with a gun and a knife. 

None of this makes sense. 

Standing there confused you try your hardest to remember anything. Anything at all. 

Red hair. Piercing green eyes. 

Death. Destruction. Pain. Loss. 

Memories whip through your brain as soon as your hand wraps around your gun. But still, none of it makes sense. 

What year is it?

You stumble down the alley, hand still wrapped around the gun resting in your pocket. You stare up at the buildings surrounding you. New York. You’re in New York. 

You watch as people pass by, words fading in and out of people’s conversations. You feel a pull, your body trying to get you to move in a certain direction but you have no clue why. 

You decide to give in, allowing your body to move. You stumble into someone muttering a sorry as they tell you to watch where you’re going. 

“What year is it?” You ask them, panic and confusion filling your voice.  “2018…” Panic feels you all over again. No that doesn’t make any sense. That’s not the year. 

Red hair. Piercing green eyes. 

A name to match the features. It echoes around your head in confusion. You know her. You can feel it. You can feel it with everything inside of you. 

Your breathing picks up, and you need to hide. You rush down another alley, hiding behind a dumpster as your head falls into your hands. 

It hurts. Your brain hurts. 

Everything is rushing through you. A place called SHEILD, the Avengers. Red hair and piercing green eyes. 

But then that stops. 

Memories of your hands hurting people now rush through you. People hurting you.

Cold. Dark. Wet. Pain. Agony. 

Then it all hits you at once. You can remember it so clearly. 

The mission, your arm getting trapped under rubble, telling her to leave. The building exploding. All you can remember after that was black and then it’s the pain. 

5 years. How, how has it been 5 years? 

Natasha? 

Natasha. Red hair, piercing green eyes. 

Her face is now so clear in your head. 

You’ve been gone 5 years. You need to find her. 

You stand up again. Walking out of the alley, taking in your surroundings as you try to get your memory to cooperate with how to get to the tower. 

She will be at the tower. 

She is the only person who makes sense. 

Everyone else is a blur. 

You find yourself walking so fast down the street, people staring at you as you practically start running. The route becomes clear in your head as you finally stop outside. 

Your hand grips your gun, you can’t be too careful, not until you find her. They could still be looking for you. 

As you walk in, alarms go off behind you as you pass through the door. Confusion fills you as you hurry to the desk. 

“Natasha. Where is Natasha?” Your hand is gripping your gun so tight.  “We need you to step back.” Voices surround you. You turn slowly, people with guns ready and raised. Your hand now lifting out of your hoodie, gun in hand like it would even match theirs. 

“NATASHA. WHERE IS NATASHA!” You shout, frustration coursing through you, why won’t people answer you?  “PUT THE GUN DOWN!” You don’t. You move closer towards the man who is shouting. Before you can reach him he shoots. 

You feel the bullet lodge into your shoulder. But you don’t stop, no pain registers. 

“I need Natasha! Listen to me!!!” You beg, you plead. Why won’t they listen?  “Natasha, who?” You wrack your brain for an answer, you try so hard, your hands finding your head as you start to hit it to try and remember. 

“Red hair, piercing green eyes!” The men around you turn to each other, murmuring as they continue to look at you.  “Come with us.” Sirens go off in your head. You aren’t leaving unless it’s with her.  “No. No. You bring her here to me, NOW!” You raise your gun again. Everyone raises theirs to face you, matching your stance. 

“We need you to drop the gun.”

“Not until she is here.” You don’t give up. If you’re leaving it’s with her. 

She is the only thing clear in your head. Your body calms with the thought of her. Memories of whispered confessions, secret nights lying beside one another, her laugh, the way your body reacted to hers, and vice versa. She is the only thing clear. You need her here now. 

“Y/n?” A man’s voice has you turning around. Your gun now facing him. His face seems familiar but you can’t place a name. It’s so frustrating, having that familiarity, but none of it makes any sense. “I don’t, I need Natasha.” You stumble over your words, tears filling your eyes at the pain going through your head. 

“Okay, okay. Do you remember me?” The man asks you, you close your eyes, trying so fucking hard to remember but you can’t. You shake your head at his question, opening your eyes to see him moving closer. 

“No, stay back! Don’t, don’t come closer!” You shout at him. His movement instantly stopped at your words. “Ok, I’m sorry. I’ll stay right here. Everyone clear the room!” He shouts his last sentence your body tensing as you watch everyone start moving around you, hurrying to the doors. You’re left in the lobby of the tower, just you and this man standing opposite each other. 

“Natasha.” Is all you can get out of your mouth once everyone has left. “She is coming, ok. How about we lower the gun and take a seat?” You shake your head no. You can’t sit down. Your hands find your head again. Your gun hits the side of your head as your frustration builds. You’re pacing around now. Even more, memories spiral around. 

The man with you, his face shows in some of the memories, but his name is still so far away. It frustrates you to no end. All of this is so confusing and you’re becoming tired. 

“Clint? What’s going on?” You turn around at the voice. Your arm lowers as your body sags in relief. Her voice is the same, she is the same. 

“Y/n?” She asks in shock, your body shaking as tears build in your eyes. She is real, you remember her. She starts rushing towards you and you hate how your body’s reaction is to raise your gun again. But she doesn’t stop moving. She keeps coming closer. 

“Stop, stop.” 

“Y/n, it’s okay. I’m here.” No, no. This could be a trap. 

“Tell me something only you would know.” Her eyes widen, you can see her wracking her brain for anything. 

“You have a birthmark that looks like a giraffe on the inside of your left thigh.” She smiles shyly at you but it only breaks you more. 

“No, no, they…they’d know that now!” You shout at her, gun gripping so tight as you move your aim to her head. If you pulled the trigger it would hit right in between her eyes. 

“Ok. Ok. Let’s calm down. It’s fine. Your favorite time of the year is winter, and it’s because it means we have longer nights in bed where we can just cuddle and be us. We can make hot chocolates and watch films in the comfort of each other arms. With no one else annoying us because they know it’s our time. Your favorite color is green, but not any green but the green in a forest when the sun hits it just right, it’s your favorite because you always said it reminded you of me. You only like marshmallows when they're toasted over a fire, other than that you hate them, they have to be gooey. You only like peanut butter with apples, anything else and you hate it. You used to hum songs in the shower no matter your mood. You would always wake before me and pull me closer to you and let me sleep for a little while longer before we had to get up to train-”

“Natasha…” You sob out, dropping the gun as you fall to your knees. Natasha finally approaches you properly now. Her arms surround you as she brings you so tightly into her. You hesitate to put your arms around her, but you grip her thighs so tightly you’re afraid you’ll leave bruises. 

“I remembered you. Only you. It’s taken me too long. I’ve been gone. I got taken. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Five years. Natasha. Red hair, piercing green eyes. I remember you. I only remember you.” You can’t stop crying, your face pushing harder into her neck and finally, you allow your arms to surround her as you take in the scent of her shampoo. 

“You’re ok. You’re here now. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Natasha whispers into your ear. Her hand comes up to the back of your head, holding you where you are, not letting you out of her arms. It’s like your body reacts to her now exaggerated breathing, her silently telling you that you need to calm down, you need to breathe. You take yourself out of her neck, your forehead finally resting on hers as you stare into her eyes. 

“I remember you.” You mutter. A smile and tears grace her face as she cups your cheek. 

“I’m glad you did. Let’s get you home, okay?” Confusion fills your face. Moving back and looking around you. “This is home?” You’re confused and rightfully so, it has been 5 years. 

“We moved a few years ago, somewhere bigger, more private. Come on, let me and Clint take you home.” She starts to stand up, her hand reaching out for yours. “Who’s Clint?” You whisper, holding her hand gently as she starts to walk towards the guy who called your name earlier. “This is Clint.” She points to him, he offers you a gentle smile, your face staying straight as you take him in. You know his face is familiar and you know that you do know him, the earlier memories of him popping up but everything else is blank. You hate it.

You stay silent the whole car journey, your hand fiddling with Natashas as she sits in the back with you. You keep trying to remember, but nothing is coming through, memories rifle through your head but they're all silent. Only she is clear, her voice is clear, her laugh. Nothing else. You can feel Natasha's eyes on you, moving between your bloodied gloved hands that she hasn’t said anything about, to your face, and then the blood seeping from your wounded shoulder. 

You pull up to the ‘compound’ as Nat called it, people rushing out of the doors have your body tensing, your hand instantly going into your pocket to grab your gun but come up empty remembering that you dropped it at the tower, but your hand wraps around the knife still present in the pocket. 

“Hey, it’s okay. They’re good, they’re safe. You know all of them but 3, it’s okay.” Natasha turns to you, her hand finding your cheek as she tries to reassure you. 

You step out of the car slowly, Natasha staying close to you as you finally approach the people standing in front of you. 

“Y/n?!” You meet eyes with another tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was in your memories. He seems shocked, relieved, and also kind of scared. But you’re not shocked, they must have thought you were dead for the past 5 years. You go to reply but stop short when you take in the person coming up behind him. That’s another face in your memories but they’re not good. 

You take a glance at Natasha, her gun in a holster on her side, you reach towards it before anyone can see what you're doing, aiming the gun at him. Everyone stands still, no one talks, no one breathes as you stare at him. 

“You said it was safe.” You say out loud, your words aimed at Natasha, but you can’t look at her, you can’t take your eyes off of him. “It is. Put the gun down.” Natasha steps in front of the gun but you aim it higher, moving your body a fraction so if you shoot it will still hit him. 

“It’s not safe if he is here!” You try to tell her but she shakes her head. “He is good, whatever memories you're thinking right now, he is good. He was taken too. He was brainwashed, he is Steve's best friend, think back more, before the Avengers, think!” You close your eyes when you feel Natasha’s hand touch your chest, your arm lowering as you allow her to take the gun. You try to think, pushing away the bad, you try to think of anything and then it happens. The guy's face coming up next to the blonde man, both wearing army uniforms. It hurts, it’s confusing, and nothing makes sense.

“You’re safe here, I wouldn’t lie to you. Would I lie to you?” Natasha whispers between you both, your eyes opening and meeting hers, your body relaxes again as you shake your head no. She wouldn’t lie to you, she never would. She sends you a small smile as her hand finds yours again, walking you towards the compound, towards the people who move out of the way for Natasha and you. Only one person goes to speak, but Natasha shakes her head and pulls me along with her, the person instantly silencing themselves. 

You take in your surroundings. Counting every step you take, remembering the way to where Natasha is taking you. She places her thumb on a doorknob, the door clicking open, and she takes you into what looks like an apartment. You walk through yourself stopping just after the door not knowing what to do with yourself.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can talk, okay?” You nod your head, words seeming like they can’t come to you right now, the confusion lingers, and nothing makes sense. Everything is so quiet. 

A knock at the door has you gripping your knife again, Natasha pauses and moves back towards it being met with the guy called Clint. He hands some clothes to Natasha, sending her a smile before she closes the door again and meets you back in the middle of the room. She walks you through into a bedroom until she opens another door and you're suddenly in a bathroom. 

“Do, do you want or need help cleaning up?” You stare back at her, you don’t want her to leave, she is the only thing that makes sense. You nod, accepting her help as she places the clothes onto the side, moving to another cupboard taking some towels out, and placing them onto the same side. She stands opposite you, her eyes still filled with tears as she takes a deep breath. Her hand moves slowly to your jacket, peeling it off of your body gently, her hands then go to the bottom of your hoodie, lifting it over her head. When it hits the floor she steps away from you, her tears falling, her mouth hanging open as she stares at you. 

You don’t understand why until you look down on yourself. Your left arm is…it’s metal? Shock feels your face as you take off the gloves covering your hands, your flesh arm moves to touch the metal, it’s freezing. You spot a mirror on the wall moving quickly to stand in front of it, you try your hardest to ignore Natasha's gasp as you stand with your back to her. You take yourself in, your metal arm, scars littering your whole torso. 

You close your eyes again. 

Your left side was trapped in the explosion. You open your eyes suddenly, more memories coming to you as you hurry to take off your trousers pushing them down your legs. Your left leg is metal too… You suppose it makes sense, you were trapped, they were probably ruined, and whoever got to you knew you’d be useless to them without anything replacing them. You flinch slightly when you feel hands slowly gliding up you're back. You look into the mirror your eyes spotting Natashas as she looks back at you through the mirror. 

“You were trapped…” 

“I know.” 

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“I told you to.”

“I shouldn’t have listened.” 

“You’d be dead if you stayed.” 

She doesn't say anything to that, because she knows it’s true.

Her hands surround your waist as she buries her head in between your shoulder blades. 

“I missed you, every day, I missed you so much.” You hear her mumble. Your back starting to get wet from her tears. You don’t know what to say, the past 5 years don’t make any sense, you can’t tell her you missed her too when you don’t even know if, in those 5 years, you even remembered her. And it breaks your heart when your silence makes her sobs echo within the bathroom. 

You don’t move, allowing her to get out what she needs to. This can’t be easy for her either. She thought you were dead for 5 years just to show up all over again. The years of bent-up anger and grief spilled out of her. 

You only then move when you feel her arms losing their grip and her sobs only seeming to get louder, if that was even possible. You turn around just in time to catch her, her body giving out to her emotional turmoil. Bringing her head to your chest, while holding her so tightly just so she can feel that you're real, feel like you are truly here after all this time. And secretly to remind yourself of the same things. She is still here too, she is also real, she isn’t something your mind has conjured up in your state. 

It isn’t long before she pulls away again, turning her back to you as she subtly wipes her eyes and cheeks before moving towards her shower. She doesn’t say a word, she doesn’t make a single sound while she focuses on her task at hand. And when she is done, she stays with her back to you and leaves the room before you can even utter any more words to her. 

You let the water completely engulf you as you try to focus on everything flowing through your head. You need to remember everything, every single moment, every single name and memory. The bad, the good, the ugly, you don't care. You lean over to grab some body wash on the side and the smell seems to trigger everything. 

Memories flood through you, names, faces, voices, everything. Your whole life flashes before your eyes and it should overwhelm you. But all you feel is relief. Relief of remembering, regardless of the bad you remember after being taken, that somehow fades away when Natasha’s face sits at the front of your mind. 

You're drawn from your thoughts when you can hear shouting echoing through the sound of the water hitting the sides of the shower, rushing out and throwing on the clothes Natasha left you before stepping out of the bathroom. 

Natasha is standing with the door wide open as Fury stands opposite her. They both stop talking when you slam the bathroom door to draw their attention away from one another.

“Nicholas.” You say clearly, shock filling Natasha's face as you move closer to them. 

“Y/n.” He echos right back, a smirk filling his face when you finally approach him, your arm winding around Natasha's waist to bring her closer to you, needing to feel her body heat against your cold skin. 

“Why are you both shouting, I could hear you both in the shower.” Natasha stays silent, her eyes furrowing as she looks up at Fury, his face having the same expression as hers. He doesn’t answer you and neither does she, he simply looks between you both and then speaks to Natasha, “10 minutes, meeting room.” And then he walks away. 

Natasha gets out of your grip, closing the door when Fury moves away. She stays quiet again, her back facing you as she stays with her back to you. The coldness confuses you, it hurts just as much. 

“We should head to the meeting room.” She finally says, her back still to you. “Nat, what’s, what’s wrong?” You whisper, placing your hand on her shoulder but you're met with her shrugging it off and moving away from you. 

“You were dead, for 5 years, to me, to all of us, you were dead. I grieved you, I put flowers on your empty grave every week. Every week since your funeral. For a whole year, I couldn’t go on missions, I couldn’t work. I didn’t leave the tower until your funeral, and then after that, I didn’t leave my room for 3 months. I then didn't go on missions for 6 months either, because you were dead. And I, I hated you for that, I hated that you made me leave, I hated that you radioed Tony to come and get me and I hated that we were forced to leave without even looking for your body. I hated that when I finally found the strength to pack your stuff away, I found a ring in your shoes. And right now, god I am so fucking happy and relieved you're alive but…” She breathes, she wipes her eyes and she meets your eyes, and the look in them breaks you. 

“But, I have now lived 5 long years without you and I’m not the ‘me’ you remember or know, Y/n. I’m not.” 

“I remembered you, Natasha, I woke up in an alley not even knowing what year it was and all I could remember was you. I remember YOU. I can- let me get to know who you are now, let me, let me remember you for who you are now.” You beg her, you need her. Especially now.

“You remembered the old me, Y/n. I’m not someone who you can love anymore. I’m not, that’s gone, that person died the day that you died.”

“Natasha…”

“We need to go to the meeting room.” She tries to deflect.

“I want to talk to you more than talking to Fury.”

“I can’t do this right now, please. Just please, let me take this in, you're here and you're alive and I don’t, I can’t process this right now.” She opens the door and walks out, the conversation over with. 

She leads you down to the meeting room, walking in front of you the whole time, every time you try to match her pace she only walks faster to get further away from you. You hate the distance between you both but you do understand it, as much as it hurts. She needs to process this, you’ve been gone, a lot has happened in those years and you can’t force her to stay if she doesn’t want to. So you’re not shocked when she walks you into the meeting room and leaves immediately after. 

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

You tell Fury everything. How you somehow survived the explosion, and how you remember your body being pulled from the rubble, thinking it was SHEILD but it wasn't. You tell him about the months of tests completed on you, the super soldier serum that now floods through your veins. You tell him every mission you remember, the dates, the countries, the kills. He takes you to the med bay next, and more blood is taken from you as you show them your new leg and arm, they pay close attention to the scars covering your body and you try not to cower away at that. After he is done with that he takes you to the gym, making you run the fastest you can, lifting the heaviest weights you can. You ignore the looks of shock on his and Marias faces as they write everything down. 

When you finally land back in the meeting room, you all sit in silence. Fury and Maria, continuously look at each other and then back to you. You sit back twirling your thumbs as you wait for them to say anything. And Maria is the first one to choke. 

“How do you feel? You couldn't remember anything but Natasha 5 hours ago.” I shrug my shoulders trying to find the right words to say. 

“Honestly, I feel okay. At first, it was overwhelming not remembering anything, but then when everything hit me, I was just relieved, relieved that I could actually remember. Yeah, my time at Hydra was shit, but it happened, and I’m here now. And there is only one Hydra base left which I just gave you the location too and within days that will be gone too. So I feel relieved because I won’t go back there. Because I am here, with people I know and remember. I may be different now, I know I’m different and in a week I could be feeling completely different, so if and when I do feel different, I will come straight to Maria. I promise, I am here and I am present.” I lay my hands on the table as I finish talking, Fury and Maria nodding their heads at my words. 

“I’ll sort out your death certificate. I’ll sort out your bank account and ID, all of that stuff. You’ll have it within a day. Oh, and all of your pension that we owed you for being dead I guess.” Fury tells you, standing up and leaving, but not without placing his hand on your shoulder and saying, “I’m glad you're back Y/n.”

Maria stays sitting for longer, her hands fiddling with paperwork as she gets it all together. You know she wants to say something, but you know she won’t. “So, Natasha kind of hates me, I guess.” You try to break the silence, but Maria's sighing makes her stop her movements. 

“It was rough. She wasn’t Natasha anymore, any trace of her was gone and it took a while to try and bring her back but she didn't, not really anyway. I’ve seen Natasha be so many different people, around different people but around you, that was Natasha. How she was with the guys, it wasn't how she was when you were here. But no one could do or say anything because we all knew it wouldn’t matter. Because you were gone and because of that, she wasn't ever going to come back. Especially after she found the ring. She used to wear it you know. All the time, no one said anything, worried about how she would react and then one day she stopped, and we all just thought, she had accepted it. That you were gone and wasn't coming back. She doesn’t hate you, I know she doesn’t, but right now, those 5 years of grief and loss, she is hating herself for giving up when you were out there all along, alive.” Maria, sits herself down next to you, leaning against the table as you furrow your brows, trying to process her words. You get it, like you already said, you understand. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like if the roles were the other way. Honestly, you would probably react the same way she is. 

“It wasn’t her fault.” You whisper, tears building in your eyes.

“To her, it is, was her fault. So what are you going to do about it, super soldier?”

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

You had been at the compound for a week now. It had been good, fun even. You knew most people, that is the original 6 of the Avengers. It was nice to be with them again, joking and laughing like you did all those years ago. It also helped that some new additions to the team were also nice.

It would have only been perfect if Natasha was there too but she wasn't. She had disappeared when you finally came out of your meeting with Fury and Maria, and it didn't surprise you when Clint was also gone. You knew where they were, at Clint’s farm. She needed space, you understood that but you wished she at least told you she had left, but you had to realize she didn't owe you that at all. 

It was by the second week at the compound that it then started to feel like you were now intruding into Natasha's life without you. She still hadn't come home. The constant thoughts of just leaving so she could come back were always floating around your head but another part also kept telling you that she just needs to process this and then she will be home, she will be back and it will all be okay. 

It was so conflicting, the constant back and forth. You wanted, no needed to call her but knew you shouldn’t. It kept you up most nights, resulting in you ending up falling asleep on the couch instead of in your cozy new bedroom, courtesy of Tony, it felt weird sleeping in a bed without her. It might have been 5 years, but in those 5 years, you hadn't even slept in a bed. It just never felt right, you didn't know what to do with your arms, and you didn't know how to lay. It was as if you could only exist with your arms surrounding her and it was tearing you apart.

By the third week, you were begging Maria for permission to use a jet. Natasha hadn’t answered any of your calls, texts, or even emails. Neither had Clint. Everyone could see it was affecting you, they all kept trying to tell you she would be back when she was ready but at this point, it didn't feel like she was coming back. Clint showed up in the middle of the third week, you tried speaking to him about Natasha but he wouldn’t budge. He wouldn’t answer any of your questions, but he could hear and see the distress. You felt erratic, you didn’t feel like yourself and it was making it all worse. He wouldn’t let you see her or speak to her, he wouldn’t even say her name. He wouldn’t even tell you if she was safe, and that’s when you lost it. 

You had him pinned against a way, Bucky and Steve on either side of you trying to pry you off of him but even with their strength, you didn't move a muscle. And finally, when Clint realized you weren’t going to let go that’s when he muttered that Natasha was safe, something he could have done 30 minutes ago when you had asked in the first place. But you continued to hold him. Maria walked into the room then, coming up by your side and telling you to let him go. You could hear it in her voice that she wasn't going to ask again and you dropped him, walking away and out of the door without turning round. 

It got to the point where the weeks turned into months. Still no sign of her, still no word from her. It was breaking you apart. You completely distanced yourself from everyone, only coming out of your room in the middle of the night to go to the gym and then taking as much food and drink as you could back up to your room. You hadn't slept, and the bed still didn’t feel right. It was exhausting. 

And that’s when it suddenly felt like you were being punished. 

That this was only a fraction of what Natasha felt. And that she was doing this on purpose.

It all turned to anger. 

You didn’t expect to get taken. You thought you were going to die. It wasn’t your fault you lived, it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look for her. You didn't remember anything until waking up all over again in an alley 5 years later. 

She was punishing you, even if she didn't realize it. 

You called her again. Her answerphone breaks you. You cried down the phone, begging for her to come home, to talk to you. To stop acting like you had died. That you have both already lost 5 years, you don’t need to lose more. 

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

Tony was having a party, you don't know what for. Something about it had ‘been a while’. You wanted nothing more than to stay in your bedroom, but Bucky and Steve wouldn’t let you. They forced you up, made you shower and get dressed. 

The party was boring, Thor had gone back to Asgard so in turn had taken his mead, which was the only thing that could even get you the slightest bit drunk. It felt pointless drinking when it didn’t do anything. 

The night seemed to go too slow, people coming and going as they pleased. People greet you for one minute and then say goodbye. It felt pointless. It felt like maybe 5 years ago you should have died instead. It felt like life didn’t have a meaning anymore. 

Everyone tried to get you to stay, the party still in full swing but you felt so dejected and so far from everyone it just seemed so pointless. All of it seemed pointless. They could see it too, the light in your eyes was gone, the lingering thoughts of Natasha affecting how you carried yourself every day. They saw the similarities from when Natasha lost you. It started to feel like Natasha definitely wasn’t coming back and everyone else finally started to agree. 

The party had been over for a few hours now, the clock reading 3:23 am. The room was still a mess but it felt fitting that it was the only place that would stop your thoughts from flying all over the place. You were no longer in the clothes you wore to the party but were now sporting an oversized hoodie and sweats. You got yourself comfortable on the couch. Throwing the rubbish on top of it onto the floor, someone else will deal with it tomorrow. 

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You needed to sleep. It had been days since you last slept, you were well and truly exhausted. You just needed to sleep to get your head straight again. 

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

You felt a weight on your chest, your body going tense instantly, wanting to sit up. But a hand on your cheeks stops you. You keep your eyes closed, afraid that if you open them it won’t be real. That the familiar touch and smell isn’t Natasha, that she is a fragment of your exhausted and emotional mind. Her whole body lay on top of your own. Her head is tucked into your neck. Her hand tangled in the hair on the side of your head. 

“I know you're awake.” She whispers, her breath tickling your neck. 

“You’re real.” You sigh out, opening your eyes and wrapping your arms around her back. Holding her tightly against you. Her body fits perfectly with your own.

“So are you.” She whispers again, not wanting to ruin the quietness that surrounds you both. 

“I’m sorry, I left, I just…”

“I know, I’m sorry too.” You move your body to lay on its side, Natasha's body falling beside you, trapping her between yourself and the back of the couch. You move your hand slowly to run through her hair, her breathing slow and gentle. She stares at you so intensely, and you can’t help but stare back. 

“You remembered me.” She whispers, moving closer despite the very little space between you both anyway, resting her forehead on yours. 

“I think I will always remember you, Natasha.” You breathe out, a small smile gracing her lips as she opens her eyes after taking a deep breath. 

You feel her head moving again, so slowly and subtly but you know her, even if it has been so many years, you know her. Her lips meet yours slowly, and your body starts to shiver from the action. 

The kiss is slow, but hard, every unspoken word flowing between you. 

“I will always love you, whether I am dead or missing, or simply just alive, I will always love and remember you, Natasha Romanoff, that will never change, I promise you that.” You whisper against her lips as you both pull away, a smirk now lying on her lips. She presses her lips against yours again, short and sweet just like her. 

“I will always love you too.”

You remembered her, and you always will. 

[ts-janus-rp-blog]

"Didn't want you to?" Remus snorted, "well, sucks to be him, huh? It's a good thing you didn't, I bet he would've hurt you if you did... And yeah, probably. Really? You don't mind your body?" Remus nodded, "I thought you would've, if I'm being honest. You pass so well that I thought you would've hated your body. I don't mind it either, whatever you're happy with then I'm happy with. I just...wanted you to know that you don't have to keep this body if you don't want to. I'm happy with anything." He smiled to him, then he worked his way back up to start washing the blood off of his neck. "I really have made quite a number of bruises on your neck... We better talk to Patton before he freaks out about this."

"Hm, I doubt that would work... I mean, he won't believe you if you call him. Even if you get Roman to call him and tell him directly that he's safe and happy, I doubt he would believe it. I mean, you can try... But that's just my opinion." The man shrugged, "Yeah? Alright, I'll send him a few dogs with a note. Mhm... Well, he clearly likes dogs, judging by Janus, so I think dogs may be the best bet. I'll get on that right away." The man grabbed a pencil and started writing that down on his notes.

"Oh, also, I have something else to report, talking about Remus... So, one of the boys mentioned that they've been keeping tabs on their ex. This ex lives close to Remus, and he used to be Remus therapist. He also is friends with Roman. But neither of them has spoken to this ex for some time. However, as of recently, after you finally got Roman, he's been spending an awfully long time with Remus all of a sudden. He's got some cameras set up inside of his ex house, and this is what he's caught." The man pulled out his phone, and he hit a few buttons. Finally, he presented the phone to Virgil, it was a live feed of Remus and Emile in the shower, and how they were giggling and moaning. "There's feed of them having sex too. Remus cares so much about his brother that he's having sex with someone he hasn't talked to in years instead of searching for his missing brother. That's horrible, don't you think?"

"Oh? He actually wore that and didn't complain? Huh, I thought he would've complained. I bet he looked quite adorable in it! Did you take any pictures of him? I would love to see it! Oh, I'm sure you made that clear amongst the boys, I heard them chatting about how they would love a piece of roman but they cant. Wow! And he let you do that?" The man chuckled, "I bet that was incredibly hot. Have you had sex with him yet? Do you think he's going to get pregnant anytime soon?"

"Hm... Well, that's another matter I wanted to talk to you about. I feel that the mutt is a liability. He may be working on getting out, or be Romans voice of reason. And we can't have that. I do understand that it makes Roman happy, so I agree that he should stay. However..." The man smirked as he opened his file and slid it over to Virgil. "I have an idea... I've been really interested in doing this experiment, but the opportunity hasn't presented itself yet. This is the perfect opportunity." He grinned, "Why don't we turn Janus into a stuffed animal? He won't be able to talk, he won't be able to get into Romans head, and he won't be able to help Roman escape. Hell just be a little plush toy that Roman can hold and feel comforted by. Now... Obviously, Roman would feel distressed to find his friend has turned into a plushie. But, I can manipulate Romans memories to make him think that his plushie has always been that, a plushie." He sipped.

Patton knocked desperately at the strangers door, praying someone, anyone was home. His heart beat as fast and loud as the rain thundering against the sidewalk. He was sure he was being followed, they were going to catch him. They were going to drag him back. He wasn't sure if whoever lived here might be worse, but he was willing to risk it at this point. Anything to escape.

{@moralpuppylover2}

Janus didn't know who would be at the door. It was late, but his master won't surely be home at this time. He normally doesn't get home until the sun starts to come up.

So, as the dog hybrid walked up to the door and opened it, he wondered who it could be. And if he should open it at all... Who knows, he may get in trouble with his master for opening the door. But, his curiosity was getting the better of him-

He stopped when he saw the soaking wet cat standing at the doorway. He could tell that this cat needed help almost immediately. Well, if his poor state of clothes were anything to go by. His eyes flickered up and down the sidewalk before he grabbed pattons arm and pulled him inside.

"are you alright?" Janus nervously asked as he grabbed a towel from the mud room. "Well, that's a stupid question, of course you're not alright! Are you...running away from your owners?" As Janus walked, the collar around his neck would jingle loudly. And even though it was cold outside and even in the house, he only had a pair of boxers on. Because of that, Patton would be able to see the numerous large scars that covered his body...and the countless amounts of fresh bruises.

@moralpuppylover2

[scorpio1205]

Matt talking about Bambi Compilation

Summary: A tiktok compilation of Matt finding ways to talk about or bring up Bambi

Warnings: swearing, talks of fluff, Matt being a simp, Matt being in love and cute Bambi and Matt stories

Bambi sighed opening her eyes, she had been laying in bed, her back pressed into Matt's chest for about an hour with no luck falling asleep, no matter how hard she tried she ended up just staring at the wall. After a minute she leaned over to the bedside table grabbing her phone and opening tik tok, making sure that the brightness and sound of her phone didn't wake Matt up.

She scrolled aimlessly barely paying attention to the videos when she scrolled past a video that she had assumed was a Matt edit only to see her name as she scrolled down, she quickly scrolled back up pausing and reading the title.

'Matthew Sturniolo Finding Any Excuse to Bring Up Bambi Compilation'

A small smile formed on her face, she didn't think Matt brought her up that much but apparently the fans thought otherwise. She looked over at Matt for a second before looking at the screen unpausing and getting comfortable.

Clip 1. from THEY'RE A 10 BUT... they aren’t your valentine

Matt sat in the drivers seat looking at his phone clearly not really paying attention that much

"They're a ten but every time you ask them a question they say 'huh' but when you go to repeat yourself they finish the question then answer it."

Chris snickered slightly "That shits so ann-"

"That's not that bad" Matt immediately cut him off finally looking up from his phone a little defensive.

"Kid what are you talking about that shit is really fucking annoying"

Matt glared at his brother "It isn't that annoying. I say 10"

Before Chris could respond Nick started to laugh "I know that look"

"What loo-"

Nick and Chris both cut him off in unison "The 'I'm about to bring up Bambi look'"

Matt smiled sheepishly looking away for a moment before looking back at his brothers "Okay but she can't help it. She isn't saying what cause she can't hear you, it just takes her a second to register what you're saying."

His brothers sighed leaning back, they knew Matt was about to go on a rant about Bambi

"She's literally perfect. Her doing that doesn't change the fact that she's a 10, scratch that shes a 100. You two are just-"

"We get it Matt, Bam is a goddess"

"And don't you forget it."

Clip 2. From Ghost Hunting at Haunted Driskill Hotel (ft. Sturniolo Triplets)

The triplets stood near Sam and Colby, Chris and Nick explaining that they had spent the last month studying their videos to prepare for this Collab.

The boys all turned to Matt for his answer.

He grinned like a kid on Christmas. "My girlfriend, Bambi, has been watching your guys videos for a few years"

Nick and Chris groaned knowing Matt was waiting for an opportunity to bring up Bambi.

"So I feel like out of Nick, Chris and I, I might be the most prepared for this."

"Just wait, this won't be the first time he brings up Bambi this video"

Clip 3. From 20 year olds playing with kids toys.

Matt held Snowy the lambs leash looking at Nick and Chris. "Pretend Bambi and I have a kid right-"

"Does Bambi know about this?!?"

"Shut up Chris." He motioned back to Snowy. "And this is our baby, and we're introducing them to you for the first time, You guys are uncles for the first time and it's Snowy!"

Nick made a face "This is getting a little to realistic to me, but continue"

"This is all normal okay."

Chris looked weirded out and a bit jealous. "Is this a disclaimer or something?"

"Shhhhh,"

Clip 4. From RATING A DOZEN CRAZY DONUTS 1-12 (Special appearance from Bambi) *May make a blurb on this*

Chris was annoying the shit out of Matt with his constant badgering about the donuts ratings.

"You know what we need, an unbiased opinion. Someone who's likes donuts but it really picky....."

Chris looked up confused not fully registering what he was saying, but Nick knew what he was saying "I couldn't agree more"

Chris realized what they were implying and smiled having a feeling that he was gonna win in this case. "Fine"

"Should I get her?" Matt waited for them to both nod to stand up "Baby, can you come here for a second!"

After a second Bambi walked into frame in a pair of grey sweats and a blue tub top "What's going on?" She noticed the camera and smiled waving slightly.

"We need your help" They spoke in unison.

Clip 5. Waffles, Pancakes, or French Toast (Ft. Bambi)

"Matt, you are such a fucking baby and I hate it! Cause I know what you're gonna say. You like chocolate chip cookies as if you're not about to be fucking 19 years old"

Nick made a face "Chocolate chip pancakes?"

"Yeah chocolate chip pancakes" Chris corrected rolling his eyes.

"Good, I was about to say what do cookies have to do with this"

Chris ignored him continuing continuing his rant, his annoyance clear.

"Matt have you ever gone to Denny's and gotten the french toast slam?"

"No but i've gotten chocolate chip pancakes from there"

"And they were fucking gross I bet"

Matt rolled his eyes turning away and opening his phone "You're fucking gross" he shut out what his brothers were speaking about texting someone, after a moment he looked up. "You know who I bet agrees with me?

"Who Matt?"

Matt smiled "Bambi"

A loud scoff left Chris' mouth "There is no way Bam-Bam agrees with you"

"Wanna bet" Matt laughed pressing the call button.

"Dude, she's probably sleeping hang up"

"She's not sleeping, we were just texting-"

Suddenly the phone stopped ringing "Hey"

Matt smiled hearing her voice "Hey Bam. We have a question for you"

"What's the question?"

"If you had to get rid of pancakes, waffles or french toast. What would you get rid of?"

They all waited patiently for her to answer.

"Do you want me to answer honestly?"

Both Chris and Matt answered immediately "Yes"

"Honestly, I'd get rid of waffles or french toast" She laughed.

"YES!"

"WHAT?! Bambi, how could you get rid of waffles or french toast?" Chris was absolutely flabbergasted.

"I'm not the biggest breakfast person. When I go to diners I normally get a bacon cheese burger and fries. But I do really like pancakes just not from a diner. I'd rather make them at home"

Chris looked appalled "So you'd get rid of waffles or french toast"

"Yeah, but I think I'd get rid of french toast if I absolutely had to choose"

"WHAT?!?!"

Matt looked like he was on cloud 9 "Bam, have I ever told you how much I freaking love you?"

"Not nearly as much as you should"

"Well I'll start telling you more. Thank you for answering"

"No problem, I'll see you guys tomorrow" With that she hung up.

Bambi was a giggling mess when the tik tok ended, she suddenly felt Matt's grip on her tightening.

"Maybe Nick and Chris are right....I do talk about you a lot." Matt mumbled groggily.

She turned over putting her phone down, her nose immediately brushing his. "It's okay.... I like it, makes me feel loved"

"Good, that's all I want" He leaned in tiredly kissing her.

Comments

User432: The fact that you can see how in love with her he is just by the way he lights up when he says or hears her name! STAWP!

User000: I didn't realize how much I needed this

User420; Need someone to love me like that

boarders made by @bernardsbendystraws

Tagged:

@sturnmeovr @big-poppa23 @colorthecosmos444

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 6

Masterlist

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence. Word Count: 2162

Danyal keeps to the shadows as he enters the town. He doesn't know where he is or if anyone that could recognize him is here. The last thing he needs right now is for Grandfather to know his location; or Damian. Which is not a thought he would ever think of. While the two of them certainly had their differences, Danyal never thought they would end like this. He should have though he realizes; their story was only ever going to end with a tragedy.

Grand- Ra's has made his displeasure of Danyal known for quite some time now so it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did when he and Damian were forced to fight. What was surprising though is just how easily his brother accepted it.  

Was he not worth fighting for?

He was prepared to stand against Ra's with Damian at his side knowing full well that it wouldn't have ended favorably for them. It seems his brother didn't feel the same way though. 

Damian and him weren't brothers anymore though were they? He wasn't an al Ghul after all. Danyal al Ghul is dead from this point forward; he's just Danyal right now.

As the sun begins to set lower and lower it makes Danyal feel more comfortable with exploring the town's streets more in depth. The first thing he needs to do is find a place he'll be able to safely lay low for the night. If he can do that then he'll be able to sit and think more clearly about what his plan for the future is. 

What Danyal doesn't expect though is that while making his way through an alley he would have a run in with a girl with bright orange hair who looked to be a couple years older than him. While his first instinct is to immediately eliminate this unknown threat he decides to instead push that feeling down when he realizes that this girl would stand no chance against him in a fight. 

He's not going to let Ra's training control his life anymore; not everything needs to end with spilt blood. So against everything he's ever been taught Danyal runs, or attempts to at the very least. 

The girl on the other hand decides to chase after him instead of simply letting him melt into the night. 

"Hey! Hey wait!" She calls out after him.

Best to get this situation over with now. Danyal abruptly stops and turns to the girl, "What do you want?" 

"Are you ok? Do you need help?"

Which is honestly a fair question honestly now that he thinks about it. He is, after all, still mildly damp, his shirt is torn with blood stains, and overall Danyal would say he looks similar to that of a stray cat. "I'm fine. Leave me alone, and go back to wherever it is that you need to be."

"You look hurt though. I can bring you some bandages, or water!" It's obvious that she's not going to simply let this go anytime soon, After a few moments of silence though she hesitantly offers her name. "I'm Jazz, what's your name?"

"Danyal." He finally answers after a few seconds. 

"Daniel?" 

"…Yes" Everything about his old life is gone from this point forward. Might as well start with a new name. They sound similar enough anyway it won't be a difficult transition to make for himself.

It doesn't take a lot after that for Jazz to convince him to accompany her back to her home. To this day he'll blame it on the exhaustion he was feeling. At the same time though he knows he made the best decision he could have going with his, now, sister. He doesn't know what his life would be like right now if Jazz hadn't followed after him and- 

"-ny! Danny!" Snapping back into reality he sees both Sam and Tucker looking at him questionably.

"Yeah, um yeah! I'm sorry, what were you saying Sam?" 

"I was asking what your thoughts on the new planetarium Wayne Enterprises just opened are. It was apparently something Damian Wayne himself advocated for. Maybe we'll have to plan a group trip to Gotham to check the place out." Sam repeats herself with a dramatic eye roll before her face softens out with a more gentle tone in her voice. "It might be good for you to get away for a bit, away from your parents." 

When it's clear Danny doesn't show any sign of answering right away Tucker takes the moment to try and lighten the mood, "It seems even your celebrity look-a-like is interested in space!" 

Damian was never interested in space that Danny knew for a fact based on how many times he would have to beg his brother to go and watch the stars with him. His twin always did it though, no matter how much of a fuss he put up Damian would join, and listen to him explain the stars. 

"Maybe you're right Sam," He can't help, but let out an exhausted sigh, "Maybe getting away will help them come to terms with everything. I think we should avoid Gotham though; that's basically me asking for trouble. I hear Central City is pretty this time of year though." 

Danny knows that his friends will assume that avoiding Gotham will be about not wanting to get involved with any hero/villain problems, but really it's so that he doesn't have to worry about running into any of the Wayne's, specifically Damian. He'd sworn off the city entirely when he first learned about his brother's dramatic arrival. Danny has long accepted that this would mean never meeting his father. 

“How- how are they doing now? Do you need to stay here again tonight?” Tucker hesitantly asks. It seems like all their conversations eventually lead them to the topic of his parents nowadays. 

“Thanks man, but no. I’m going to be going back tonight. Everyone in the house has been avoiding the topic, and staying away isn’t going to help fix anything either.” It wasn’t easy being in that house though. It’s tense everytime he interacts with his parents. The looks they always give him, as if he’s just some stranger living in their home now. 

At the same time though he can tell that they want to understand, to learn. They haven’t gone hunting since they found out, and removed any kind of weapon from the house; securing them up tightly down in the lab. 

Danny doesn’t quite fault his parents for how they're acting right now. Years and years of research only to learn that everything they have built their lives on is a lie. At the same time though he hoped that all of this could have been a much easier situation for everyone. 

“Before we can plan any summer trip away though we need to figure out a way to deal with the GIW. They’ve been much more active lately, and I’ve seen more and more trucks leaving Amity this past week.” Danny needed to talk about anything other than his parents right now. 

“You think they’re setting up shop somewhere else now?” Tucker questions, already pulling out his laptop. 

“Where would they even move to? They’re already in the most haunted city in America.” Sam gives Tucker a slight nudge, “Mind looking up the second most haunted city?” 

"New Orleans." 

"Yeah, that tracks." Sam peers over Tucker's shoulder to look at his screen, "Think you can finally hack your way into their systems?" 

"You're only talking to the second greatest hacker," He cracks his knuckles before beginning to type, "I'll have us inside in a matter of minutes, and with what Technus and I have been doing lately they won't have any clue we were even there to begin with." 

Despite already knowing what his friend is going to say he still asks, "Second? Who's the first then?”

"If you don't know Danny then I haven't been talking about them enough. Don't worry though I already have a presentation I can show you about why Oracle is the greatest hacker." 

"Nope, I'm good." 

"That's what I thought next time don't-" Tucker cuts himself off as he shouts, "I'm in!" 

Immediately, both Sam and him are moving to see the screen. "Search for anything that talks about moving or new locations."

"Really think it's gonna be that easy?" Sam asks, "That obviously marked down for anyone to find?" 

"If their filing system is anything like my parents, then yes." 

She seems to be thinking about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "That's fair." 

"Got a match with 'new location'. Anyone want to place a bet on where they're going before I open it up?" Tucker grins as his finger hovers over the search hit. 

"Hopefully somewhere cool since Danny is definitely going to drag us there to check the place out." 

"Well you're free to stay behind and miss out on all the fun then, Sam." He laughs at the playful glare she shoots at him, "Open it up Tucker! Let's find out where these guys are going." 

With one click a file was opened and right there at the very top it read: Protocols for new location — Gotham. 

The world really does hate him, Danny thinks to himself. Of all the places the GIW could have picked they just had to pick the one place he desperately wanted to avoid. It was already going to be hard enough staying off the GIW's radar, and now he'll have to plan to stay off the bats' as well. Which Danny was already admitting to himself was a plan doomed to fail from the start. 

He needs to stop the GIW though, "Does it mention anything about what they’re wanting to do there?"

Tucker nods and points to a specific area to screen, "It seems like they’re looking for something called a revenant that’s been detected in the area. They mention it several times throughout all this. Priority number one it’s been listed as."

"Revenant?" Sam asks. 

"A person who has returned from the dead." Danny answers her, "Good to know that all those books Clockwork had me read are actually helpful." 

"And this is different from what you are, how?" 

"I'm both alive and dead right now, this revenant died and is now alive again. They don't quite have a full core though — more of a baby core — which I guess is enough for the GIW to want to capture them." It seems not even being completely alive again is enough to keep the GIW away.Danny can't help but think about how many people they must have taken.

As if sensing his thoughts Tucker turns from the screen, and places a hand on Danny's shoulder, "Are you sure you want to get involved with whatever they’re doing in Gotham?" 

"I- I need to at least warn whoever this revenant that they're being hunted. To give them information about who is after them. I would have given anything to have a friendly stranger answer all my questions." He admits. 

"Seems like we'll be going to that planetarium after all then, huh?" 

Danny is honestly a little shocked at the laugh that creeps out of him, "I guess we will won't we? Might as well see the sites while we're there." 

"Oh! Maybe you'll run into your doppelganger too!" Tucker exclaims, "I'd love to see just how similar you two are in person." 

"I hope not, it's bad luck after all to meet your own doppelganger. Combine that with my Fenton luck, and you can bet on it that if I see Damian Wayne I'm running in the opposite direction. I don't need that in my life right now." Danny assumes that his friends think that he's joking, but if he does run into his twin he's booking it.   

It doesn't take them long after that to get a semi figured out plan sorted. They have a vague idea of where to find the revenant due to the file, mostly likely to be found in a place called Crime Alley. How they're going to find their mystery person he doesn't know, but Danny is hoping that dead recognizes dead will handle that part. 

The hardest part of all this is getting their parents' permission. It's a bit of a back and forth with getting Tucker and Sam's parents to agree to their impromptu travel plans, but they agree in the end. 

Danny on the other hand hesitates over contacting his own parents, and so he doesn't. He sends a text to Jazz to let her know the full situation around why he's going to be spending some time in Gotham. With how little his parents and him are interacting they might not even know he was even gone in the first place. 

With the soonest flight booked the trio this time tomorrow afternoon are boarding the plane to Gotham. 

[kyeomkuppie]

Me? Jealous? Pfft!

Pairing: Minghao x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, a tinge of angst

Synopsis: in which you were jealous but your boyfriend knew how to exactly comfort you.

Why has he standing with her for over 10 minutes?! It wasn't like it mattered to you. Pfft! of course not.

You've known your boyfriend to be very respectful, so it wasn't like you didn't trust him, I mean he clearly carried the Victoria's secret shopping bag that obviously belonged to you. It was as if 'I have a girlfriend' was written in his forehead. But it didn't help that some thoughts were starting to invade your mind.

She was refined. Her back straight, making you suddenly aware of your posture. Her voice quiet, making you too conscious about you naturally outgoing nature.

And most importantly, she embodied everything you wish you were. But this wasn't the time to go through internal monologue of how you think she's better than you! She has been talking to your boyfriend like she has known him for 30 years.

You were starting to go over 30 ways to commit murder without getting caught but your boyfriend finally made his way to you, after, in your opinion, a conversation that has been going on for too long.

"I'm sorry if I made you wait." He smiled guiltily.

"It's fine." Your sudden quietness caught him off-guard, and for someone as perceptive as Minghao, it wasn't hard to guess that something was off.

The store names in the mall were suddenly very interesting and it was painfully obvious that you were avoiding his gaze.

"Baobei, are you upset?" He knew you were weak for that nickname and it was apparent from the rosy tint of your cheeks, but you were giving one-word responses, which wasn't like you at all.

"No, Why would I be?" You manged to fake a smile which pretty much looked like a grimace.

You scoffed "Me?Jealous? Pfft!"

"Did anyone bother you while I was talking to [girl's name]?"

Oh, so he also knew her name?

Unfortunately for you, he noticed the furrow of your eyebrows when he said her name.

"Or is it me?...Are you jealous?"

He raised an eyebrow at how defensive you suddenly got. You two were back to his car and as soon as you closed the doors, you knew he had something to say.

"Baobei, talk to me. You know I don't like leaving things unresolved." His tone was serious but still gentle.

"No- No, It's not something to resolve. It's silly and I don't want to make a big deal out of nothing." You bit at your fingertip.

"It isn't nothing if it makes you upset, please tell me." He grabbed both your hands.

"She was just so...you. She is everything I want to be and that just made me a bit insecure and it really isn't your fault and the fact that I didn't know what had you so focused on what she said made me feel...I'm sorry I'm being childish." You look down at your hands.

He raised your chin with two fingers and slowly pulls you closer. "First of all, she is the choreographer of our new comeback. She wanted to ask about my input for the choreography. And what do you mean she's so me? You're a part of me that could well enough define who I am. No other person could ever replicate whatever you could do to make me feel how I do."

At this point these words were too much for you, and how he described you so romantically wasn't helping in how red your face was getting.

"Yes- I mean no and um you know-" You could no longer make sense of what you can say. You were too hyper-aware of the distance between you two.

He smiled knowing the buttons he pushed and decided to pull the final move.

He pulled you in and his lips landed on yours. You grabbed onto his shoulders and started kissing him like it was the last time. The slow yet desperate rhythm of both your lips was too much for you and when you suddenly pulled away a realization dawned upon you.

He could talk to a thousand girls and only you could get to devour his lips that way. You smiled to yourself at the thought but you instantly snapped out of it at your boyfriend's voice.

"Was it that good?"

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[twstfanblog]

hello! hope the new year has been going well so far!

i would like to make a request; can i ask for a Vil x reader, can be platonic or romantic your choice, where the reader is an artist that has drawn a portrait of everyone EXCEPT for Vil and he just tries to do everything to get the reader to draw him. like, posing more dramatically while doing mundane things or sets up dramatic lighting in a classroom

just to have the reader finally draw him after he gets caught in the rain or something XD

sorry if this is too much, feel free to change anything or ignore

Draw me, I demand it

Vil x Reader

Vil would insist he wasn't petty or Divine forbid, jealous. He was a celebrity, an icon, he knew his worth more than anyone. But to know one of the few people he'd ever dare call his friend seemed to be purposefully excluding him made him a bit...upset.

The prefect was a lovely person, fun to talk to and occasionally had an outsider perspective on the media he was engrossed in. While they didn't have the pleasure to talk often, he considered them fond of each other at least. He did anyhow. That was until he learned from Epel that the prefect was an artist, traditional in sense with the medium of simple pen and paper.

Such a fact had been made know because Epel had shown him a sketch the prefect had done. While it wasnt a masterpiece, Vil wouldn't deny it carried potential and clearly show cased a high amount of skill. It was during the conversation that Epel had stated the prefect had drawn all of them.

So the next day, when their paths had crossed, Vil had asked with a teasing edge to see one of the sketches they had done of him. Thats when he learned Epel was wrong. The prefect had done at least one sketch of everyone from their collective friend group, except him.

He'll admit, he was mad in the moment. But now, days later, he finds himself putting more effort into his makeup and hair in the morning. Wearing new tie and shirt combinations with various patterns and textures. Trying new shoe styles for the sake of the Seven. But nothing seemed to spore the prefect to pull out that damned spiral bond black book and annoyingly powdered yellow pen.

At some point, he had even enlisted Rook to plan and stage worthy environments to spark artistic creation. None of which worked, other than Rook appearing all too happy as he put together an entirely new scrapbook of his own.

It wasn't until the weekend. A torrential downpour had suddenly affected the campus, sending students flocking into buildings and dorms. Vil had been in the middle of another attempt to swoon the prefect into sketching him when the rain started. An hour of crafting a vine and flower arch ruined. By the time they had made it to Ramshackle, they were both nearly soaked through.

So now he sat in the lounge of the rundown dorm, a towel that smelled lightly of mothballs and holding an old mug of cheap hot chocolate being warmed by a fire. The prefect had just stepped in the lounge, mouth open with their own mug before they froze. Then they scurried away, returning with that forsaken notebook and started to scribble.

Vil raised an eyebrow, confused as to what they could possibly be sketching. Looking out the window at his side, Vil noticed in the sanctuary of an overgrown bush and the windows ledge were two butterflies. One noticeably bigger, wings packed with technicolor blues and purples, while the other was a simple silver-grey. He huffed, seeing the cosmic irony of the two insects cuddled together while he sat across the room from his own plain butterfly.

The rain didn't let up. It rained for hours at the same intensity it had started. With his drink gone and the prefect lulled to sleep, Vil finally stood to gently pull their sketchbook from their limp hands. Looking through the pages, he couldn't help but pout at seeing multiple sketches of the others and none of him. But on the newest page, he was met with a picture of him waterlogged, sitting by the fireplace and smiling into the mug of hot chocolate.

"..." Vil chuckled, looking to the sleeping freshman before slipping the book back into their hands, "Silly potato. At least you captured my beauty properly..."

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 28- 'Safe Now' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 12.9 k

The house party had fallen into complete and utter chaos. Jess stood off to the side watching it all unfold with Megan beside her. She rolled her eyes looking on as you sobbed into Trent, his hands bloodied, Jack attentively speaking with the police, Josh licking his wounds as he got escorted out of the house, Noah consoling a terrified Layla, Devon still on the phone. Out of the corner of her eye Megan caught the reaction. 

“Jess, what the fuck…”  Megan asked, confused why her best friend just rolled her eyes looking at you bruised and battered. 

“They all protect her like she’s five years old.” Jess quipped very clearly disinterested in your wellbeing. 

“Jess, they protect her like someone has hurt her… Like someone has abused her.” Megan corrected her, annoyance and anger evident in her voice, and empathy for you in her eyes. 

“Abuse? Please.” Jess scoffed with a shake of her head. “Whatever, it used to happen to her all the time and no one said shit before this whole "relationship." Before T decided she was something she’s not.” Jess complained, taking another jab at you all whilst revealing she’d known about the way Josh had treated you.

“Sorry?” Megan looked at her gobsmacked. 

“Oh Meg, come on. You didn’t see the way Josh would throw her around?”  Jess snickered with a devious grin watching your body shake in Trent’s hold. Meanwhile, Megan’s voice cracked as she turned to Jess. The realization of everything that had been going on hit her like a ton of bricks. 

“Jess, you knew about the way he treated her? The abuse?” Her voice was strained, a mixture of hurt and disbelief. “What the fuck?…. You don’t have to like her, that’d beside the point… Y/N aside, knowing that’s going on and not saying anything is fucked up” Megan yelped feeling betrayed by her best friend. Jess rolled her eyes again, as if she had no remorse for the situation unfolding around her. 

“Is it?” she sneered, the venom in her voice unmistakable. “Because some people… I don't know, kind of deserve it, don’t they?” Jess explained her rationale, clearly believing it. Megan’s face twisted in disgust, clearly disagreeing. 

“Fuck you! You knew about this, you bitch” Layla interjected, after overhearing, shoving Jess. Jess’s back hit the marble bar top behind her. 

“Ow, you cunt. Fucking psycho, that hurt!” Jess yelped. The tension in the air was thick, and the atmosphere felt like it was on the edge of shattering. Layla, who had been at the center of the emotional whirlwind all night, couldn’t hold it in anymore. Thankfully someone else was going to intervene to prevent another fight breaking out. 

“Aye! Aye! Aye! C’mere,” Noah yelled, trying to prevent another explosion between Layla and Jess, dragging Layla back into him, leaving Jess standing a few paces away, looking frustrated and defensive, and inappropriately strangely offended. Jess’s smirk had faltered, but the bitterness in her gaze hadn’t gone anywhere. Layla collapsed into Noah’s arms, her sobs racking her body. He held her tightly, trying to offer comfort despite the mess of emotions swirling around them.

“Jess, I can’t… I can’t be friends with someone like that… I… I… can’t be your friend anymore.” Megan’s words were quiet, but they rang with finality.  Her jaw was slack, just in utter shock. She took a step back, as if the physical distance could help her emotionally detach from the girl she once thought she knew. “This is too much. You’ve done too much.” Then Jess’s smirk faltered for just a moment, her defenses cracking as she realized Megan wasn’t backing down, in fact, she was backing out. 

“You don’t understand, Meg. You don’t get it.” Jess babbled trying to buy time to come up with an excuse that’d salvage a friendship.

“No,” Megan said, shaking her head, her voice firm. “I get it, Jess. You let someone suffer. You let a man hurt a woman. You willingly let that happen…” Her voice wavered slightly but grew stronger with every word. “And you know what? I’m done.” She wiped a tear from her cheek, turning away from Jess. Layla’s sobs grew more desperate hearing them, the reality of your situation reduced down to ‘a man hurting a woman,’ it didn’t feel like enough. Noah could feel the weight of her emotions in his own chest. 

“I gotcha,” He whispered softly, gently rocking Layla back and forth as she clung to him, her hands gripping his shirt tightly. 

When Devon awkwardly came back, he took a deep breath and moved closer to them, trying to assess the situation. He tensed up when he saw Noah consoling Layla, his mind racing with uncertainty. He wasn’t sure how to react. He didn’t want to intrude, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that Layla was falling apart right in front of him and comforted by someone else.

“Layla… we should probably head out,” Devon suggested gently, his voice barely above a whisper. His words were careful, trying not to add any more weight to an already fragile situation but trying to take back something he thought he wanted. Noah’s hold on Layla loosened slightly, giving her the opportunity to go freely but she clung to him even harder, her grip tightening as if she feared losing him, or worse, losing herself in the storm of everything that had happened.

“I… I can’t. I’m sorry, no,” Layla whimpered, her voice broken and raw. The words were barely audible, but they hit both Noah and Devon hard. Noah hesitated, his heart aching for her. He looked down at her, unsure of what else to say or do. Devon stood silently, exchanging sympathetic glances with Noah. He knew Layla was in a fragile state, and he didn’t want to push her. His own discomfort was palpable, but he tried to mask it.

“It’s cool, bro. As long as she’s good,” Devon said quietly to Noah, his voice steady but laced with concern. His attempt to brush off the awkwardness was clear, but it didn’t quite work. He didn’t want to make a bigger deal of it than it already was. Layla and his potential romance really wasn’t the concern tonight, especially not to Layla. Devon was trying not to take it personally. Noah nodded, still unsure of the best course of action. He wasn’t sure what was driving Layla’s need to cling to him, whether it was the trauma of the night, the need for comfort, or something else entirely. He figured it was just that she needed to be with someone she trusted, someone who understood her, even if he didn’t fully understand her emotions at the moment and why he was the one she wanted. He could feel the weight of the night pressing down on both of them, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed between them all. They stood there for a long moment, in an uncomfortable silence. Devon didn’t object. He just nodded, stepping back and allowing Noah the space to comfort Layla. They all felt the gravity of the situation, but for now, the most important thing was making sure everyone was okay, and doing whatever that took.

The room felt suffocating, like everything that had just transpired had pressed the air out of the space. Jack was still speaking with police officers, as you clung to Trent on the ground. You looked almost unrecognizable, your eyes swollen shut from tears, bruising beginning to purple from Josh’s hands on you, your top ripped, Trent’s hands holding you, but simultaneously leaving behind a soft trace of soft still coming from his knuckles. All of it was amplified by Layla’s sobs echoing softly in Noah’s ears, and he could feel the tremble in her body as she clung to him. It wasn’t just the weight of the night; it was everything coming to the surface—her frustration, fear, the weight of everything she had witnessed, everything she felt for you. She was unraveling, and he couldn’t look away. Noah’s arms held her gently, but his mind was a blur. He wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t been expecting this, hadn’t prepared himself for the emotional gravity of the situation. He’d never expected things to come to this. Come to something so serious. He had always been the lighthearted one, keeping things in check, but now? He was standing at a crossroads. He was hurting for you and Trent, and Jack, now Layla needed him... and what if he might've needed her too.

“Noah…” Her soft, desperate voice broke through his thoughts. He leaned in, trying to find some calmness to anchor the situation. 

“Hmm? You want me to get you back home or you to Jack and Y/N’s?” Noah offered sweetly, brushing past his own emotion. But she shook her head, and Noah felt a slight chill. There was something more here. Something deeper than just the chaos of the night. His gaze softened as he tried to make sense of it. “Devon’s?” he asked quietly, his mind grasping for a logical answer. But the tension in Layla’s body told him she wasn’t thinking logically right now. “Just gotta get his address for me. Just wherever you want, alright Lay?” He whispered. She was overwhelmed. She needed something, someone, to ground her. He wasn’t sure where that was going to be, but he wanted to help.

“Yours,” Layla whimpered.  Noah’s body stiffened holding her, something shifted in him. He froze, his entire body stiffening, his heart thudding louder in his chest. Her words were soft, vulnerable, and they hit him in a way he didn’t expect.

“Ah… Lays,” he stammered, not sure if that was a good idea but she was already pressing into him more, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Please,” she begged, and Noah could hear the rawness of her plea, her quivering lip breaking through the last of her control. In that moment, Noah knew he couldn’t turn her away. Despite the confusion, the weight of his own feelings, and the uncertainty of what this might lead to, he couldn’t let her go.  Noah hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of Layla’s distress. He had never seen her this vulnerable, and it weighed heavily on him. He’d known her for years, but tonight, everything felt different. As she sobbed against him, his protective instincts kicked in, but at the same time, the tension in the air made him question his decision. He knew that taking her to his place would complicate things further, but her pleading eyes made him relent.

“Yeah, alright,” he murmured, squeezing her tighter, his voice thick with emotion he hadn’t anticipated. He wanted to say more, to ask questions, to try and make sense of what was happening, but he didn’t. He accepted trying to do anything to deescalate tonight, although in his right mind this felt like opening a can of worms.  Tonight wasn’t about figuring it out. It was about being there for her, letting her lean on him when everything was falling apart around them. He didn’t want to overthink it, even though he knew this was going to lead them down a path they hadn’t expected. But for now, in the quiet of this moment, he just held Layla. And that was enough. Layla’s sobs slowly softened, and she nodded weakly against his chest. She wasn’t looking for an answer from him. She just needed to feel safe, needed something familiar. Noah pulled back slightly, brushing his hand through her hair and wiping away the stray tears that had fallen down her cheeks. He wasn’t sure what this would mean for them, for his relationship with Layla, if there was one. He had never imagined he’d be the one comforting her like this, not in this context.

“I’m here, Lays,” he whispered, his voice soft. “I’m not going anywhere.” His mind was racing with questions he wasn’t sure he had answers to. Noah’s thoughts kept drifting between the night’s chaos and the way Layla clung to him like a lifeline. He wasn’t sure if he was the right person to help her through this, but he wasn’t about to leave her alone. He gently guided her out of the room, trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to bring any more attention to themselves. The night had already spiraled out of control, and Noah wasn’t sure what the next steps would be. But for now, all that mattered was making sure Layla was okay. That was all he could focus on.

The party, which had already turned into an emotional minefield, was officially a wreck. People were starting to trickle out, some of the boys from the group still standing in stunned silence, unsure of how to react. The only thing that seemed certain was the mess of relationships, friendships, and trust that had been irreparably shattered. But as the last echoes of chaos subsided, Trent was there, by your side, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. And though things felt broken, in that moment, at least you weren’t alone.

When Noah and Layla arrived to his place, he flicked on the lights, his voice light but cautious. “Alright, home sweet home.” He muttered, scratching the back of his head as he stepped aside to let Layla in first.  Layla, still shaken by the evening, wasn’t really in the present moment but she was taken aback by the organization of it all. She’d been over before, she thought she had at least, but there were always boys there, beers everywhere, balls being kicked around, the tv on. But right now, it was so clean. She anticipated a space full of clutter, leftover takeout, and the remnants of last night’s entertainment. But as she walked further inside, her brows furrowed slightly in surprise. It was immaculate. The living room was tidy, pillows arranged perfectly on the sofa, no stray bottles or misplaced shoes in sight. Even the air smelled fresh, clean. She blinked. Noah caught her staring, a bashful chuckle escaping him.  “Okay, so…” he exhaled, shifting on his feet. “I don’t really have much… stuff for when a girl comes over.” He earnestly admitted. Layla’s lips twitched at his awkwardness mostly because it was so uncharacteristic but before she could say anything, he rushed to clarify, waving a hand. It wasn't like Noah wasn't hooking up with people ever. It was more of a preferred way of living. He wasn't exactly keeping extra towels around just for them. “Nah, fuck off. That’s not—what I mean is, I don’t like extra stuff. I just—I like my things neat and tidy.” Layla let out a soft giggle, stepping further into the him. 

“I can tell.” She teased, her eyes scanning the space as they made their way upstairs. His bedroom was just as pristine, the bed perfectly made, not a thing out of place. She glanced at him, tilting her head. “This is… not what I expected.” She giggled. Noah scoffed, smirking as he leaned against the doorway. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Thought I was a mess, didn’t ya?” He teased with a smirk. It was a soft remnant of normalcy but at the same time, it was a reminder of how incredibly abnormal the night had been. 

“I mean… a little.”  Layla shrugged, grinning. He rolled his eyes dramatically before nodding toward the bed. 

“Alright, you take my room, I’ll grab the couch. Good?” He instructed her. There was an elephant in the room but they were both going to ignore it best they could.

“Are you sure?” Layla hesitated. Noah dug through a dresser drawer finding a shirt. He turned with a smile and tossed it to Layla. 

“Beauty sleep and all that, you know? Look at me—” he gestured to himself with a smirk. “I could use a night on the couch, it’s starting to get unfair.” He cheekily laughed.

“You’re so obnoxious.”   Layla let out a giggle, shaking her head with a smitten smile, grabbing the shirt.

“Some call it endearing.” He shot back effortlessly. Layla bit her lip, shaking her head fondly before meeting his gaze. 

“Count me as some.” She murmured. Noah’s smirk softened, something unreadable flashing across his expression for a brief moment before he gave her a small nod. Noah ran a tired hand down his face, exhaling as he moved around the room, the weight of the night still heavy on his shoulders.

After teeth were brushed, and lights beginning to turn off, Layla lay tucked into his bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, watching him through tired eyes as he grabbed his glasses from his nightstand. He looked exhausted—worn from everything that had happened.

“Alright, get some rest, Lay.” He cooed.  She exhaled, exhaustion finally hitting her as she settled into the bed.  She glanced down at the oversized t-shirt she was wearing, the fabric soft and smelling like him. Guilt tugged at her chest as she watched him stretch his shoulders, rubbing at the tension in his neck. She hated the thought of him sleeping on the couch when there was enough space for both of them.

“Noah… you can stay.” Layla murmured, voice soft in the quiet of the room. It was olive branch, but simultaneously a devil's offer. Noah stilled, his hands dropping to his sides as his gaze met hers. 

“Yeah? You sure?” His voice was hesitant, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. But internally he was biting at the bit. Layla simply nodded, shifting onto her side in silent invitation. He hesitated for a moment longer before sighing and switching off another light, then crossed the room to the bed. As he crawled in, he kept a safe distance, lying on his back, one arm draped over his stomach. The space between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it felt natural, unspoken trust settling between them. For a long moment, they just stared at each other in the dim light filtering through the curtains. It wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt grounding. Then, Layla’s voice broke the silence. 

“You always take care of everyone, Noah. Who takes care of you?” She asked. Noah’s breath hitched slightly, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t have an immediate answer. Nothing quick witted came to mind. The question hit somewhere deep, somewhere he didn’t often acknowledge. Being the middle child in a big family, he’d always been the peacekeeper, the one who looked out for everyone else. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Ah, I’m a big boy, Lay. I’ll be alright.” He attempted to brush it off, forcing a small smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Layla exhaled softly, her voice laced with something that sounded a lot like understanding.

“Yeah… but we all appreciate it. I appreciate it.” She whispered. Noah didn’t respond, just stared at the ceiling, something warm settling in his chest at her words. She meant them. He could feel it. Layla shifted, rolling onto her side, facing away from him. Noah turned his head slightly, watching the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders before letting out a slow breath,

“Will be alright.” Noah leaned over and kissed her hair. A gesture that innately he hadn’t had thought twice about but it was loaded now, they were in bed. Noah's lips had barely grazed the back of her head before his brain short-circuited. Shit. Shit. Shit. He cursed himself instantly, eyes snapping shut as if he could undo the moment. Layla stiffened, the silence stretching for what felt like eternity. "... sorry Lay... I...." His voice was rough, hesitant, already preparing to get pied off and laughed at. Layla didn't turn to look at him, but her voice was soft, almost shy when she spoke.

"You're really sweet, Noah." She told him gently. His heart pounded. He should've left it at that— should've rolled away, thrown himself off the bed, maybe out the window. Instead, she spoke again, quiet and unsure. "Noah... do you... do you like a cuddle?" He exhaled, relief washing over him but it was laced with trepidation.

"Yeah, 'course." He told her. Layla didn't move. She just lay there, waiting, as if silently asking him to do something about it. Noah swallowed hard. "Would a cuddle make you feel any better tonight?" His voice was softer now, more careful. She nodded over her shoulder. Noah was fucked-and he knew it the second she arched her back, just enough for him to pull her against him properly. His hands slid around her waist pulling her into him, unintentionally dragging up the oversized t-shirt she was wearing, his shirt. He hadn't meant to, but Layla didn't stop him. "Better?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper. Layla hummed in response, melting into his touch. Letting his hands begin to wander-skimming her thighs, the dip of her waist, the curve of her ass.

And then he heard the most perfect thing he’d ever heard in his life, Layla whined. Noah nearly lost it, his mind went bank. "Yeah, you're good." He murmured, lips ghosting over the back of her neck. Every muscle in his body was tense, but his touch remained slow, careful. "Just wanna make sure you're good." He whsipered. Layla barely managed a breathy response. 

"Yeah, I'm good." She whined. But then she moved. Intentionally. Grinding her ass back against him, slow and deliberate. Noah clenched his jaw. He was fighting demons. The way her body fit against his, the heat of her pressing back on his already rock-hard dick, the way she whimpered so softly, he thought he might die right there.

"Good girl." He spoke and Layla was very much so in the same boat as him. She swore she blacked out for a second. This was Noah-silly, goofy, Noah. The same one who gave her shit for everything, made every joke on the table. And yet, right now, he was none of those things. He was careful, but firm. Gentle, but commanding. His hands weren't just holding her anymore-they were learning her. Her pussy was throbbing, desperate for something, anything. She barely recognized the noises leaving her lips, soft little whimpers that only spurred Noah on. Meanwhile, Noah was struggling. Every instinct in him wanted to flip her over, push her thighs apart, wreck her. But he didn't. He held himself back, settling for pressing his mouth against her skin, letting his fingers roam just enough to drive her crazy. He didn't know what the fuck was happening between them, but he knew one thing— Layla was ruining him.

When you all stepped back into your house, the silence was oppressive, almost deafening. It wasn’t the comforting kind of quiet that accompanied safety—it was heavy, suffocating, and filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. Trent carried you in, his strong arms holding you as securely as he could. Your face stayed buried in the nape of his neck, where it had been for what felt like hours. He didn’t mind. He’d have carried you forever if it meant you didn’t have to feel the weight of the world pressing down on you. The house was dark, every shadow stretching out like a reminder of the emptiness you felt inside. Even with Trent’s steady heartbeat against your cheek and Jack’s concerned presence lingering nearby, the void within you consumed everything. Trent shifted slightly, his voice low and soft, like he was afraid to disturb whatever fragile piece of you was holding on. 

“I’m gonna take her upstairs,” he whispered to Jack. Jack nodded quickly, his own voice equally hushed. 

“Yeah, course.” He stepped closer, his gaze darting to you, searching for any sign of recognition, of acknowledgment. “Y/N…” he whispered, crouching slightly to meet your height in Trent’s arms. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? We’re here, and you’re safe.” His voice was gentle, his tone pleading for some sort of response, some proof that you were still there with them. Jack leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as if the gesture alone could transfer his strength to you. But you didn’t respond. You didn’t flinch or pull away. You didn’t nod or hum. You remained still, silent, completely withdrawn. Trent adjusted his hold on you, his grip firm yet tender as he carried you up the stairs. Jack watched after the two of you, his heart heavy, wishing he could take the pain from you, share the burden somehow.

Upstairs, Trent moved slowly, as though every step might break the fragile stillness surrounding you. He pressed another soft kiss to your temple as he reached the bedroom.

 “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe now.” He whispered opening the door. But even those words, the ones you always believed when they came from him, couldn’t reach you—not yet. You stayed curled into him, as small as you could make yourself, lost in the dark and quiet, hoping for the light to find you again. “Alright, let’s get you to bed, baby,” Trent murmured softly, his voice calm despite the storm of emotions raging inside him. His hand throbbed, his knuckles bruised and aching, and his face still stung from the earlier confrontation, but none of it mattered—not when he looked at you. His heart clenched at the sight of your fragile state, your tear-streaked face buried in his neck, your body trembling against his. He carried you further into the room like you weighed nothing, your trust in him the only thing grounding him in the moment. Carefully, he lowered you onto the bed, but the moment your body hit the mattress, the dam inside you broke. A guttural sob tore from your throat, and tears began streaming down your face all over again. You reached out for him desperately, your fingers clutching at his shirt, clinging to him as though you were afraid he might disappear. “Hey, hey, I’m here,” Trent whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he settled down on the bed beside you. He reached for your hands, holding them firmly but gently, as if anchoring you to him. His eyes scanned your face, taking in every inch of your pain, his own heart fracturing under the weight of it. “You don’t want me to let go?” You shook your head frantically, burying your face into his chest as your cries grew louder. 

“No, T,” you choked out between sobs, your voice small and broken.

“Okay, okay,” Trent murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, cradling you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever, baby. I promise. I’ve got you.” For a while, he just held you, letting you cry against him as his hands rubbed soothing circles over your back. Every now and then, he pressed soft kisses to the top of your head, whispering reassurances into your hair. “You’re safe now, baby. It’s over. I’m here.” Eventually, when your sobs began to quiet, Trent gently pulled back to look at you. His fingers came up to brush away the tears from your cheeks, his touch so soft it felt like a whisper against your skin. “Can I get you into some different clothes, pretty girl?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a murmur. “Might make you feel a little better. Little comfier, cozier.” He tried to smile but it was hard. You didn’t respond, only whimpered quietly as your body trembled in his arms. Trent let out a shaky breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I know, I know,” he said gently, his tone soothing as his fingers stroked your hair. “C’mon, I’ll help you. I’ve got you, baby.” Moving carefully, as if you might shatter under his touch, Trent began peeling your clothes off. His heart sank as he saw the bruises littering your skin, the harsh marks standing out like cruel reminders of the nightmare you’d just endured. When his eyes landed on the cut near your collarbone—where Josh had torn your necklace off—his breath caught in his throat. He turned his head away for a moment, his jaw clenching as tears filled his eyes. He blinked them back quickly, swallowing down the anger and guilt that threatened to overwhelm him. You didn’t need his pain right now. You needed his strength. “Do you want to shower, baby? Or is that too much right now?” he asked gently, his voice thick with emotion. 

“No, T… I just want you.” You shook your head quickly, your voice breaking as you whispered. The sheer vulnerability in your voice broke him. 

“Alright, alright. I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” Trent said softly, his hands trembling slightly as he grabbed one of his oversized shirts. He slipped it over your head carefully, the familiar scent of him surrounding you like a protective cocoon. Once you were covered, Trent quickly peeled off his own clothes, leaving himself in just his boxers. He pulled down the sheets and climbed into bed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. He tucked the blanket around both of you, his strong arms wrapping around you as he held you close to his chest. Your head rested against his shoulder, your body curled into his as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, his touch slow and soothing as he whispered to you.

“I’ve got you,” Trent murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. You’re safe now, yeah? I promise you, you’re safe.” Your breathing eventually began to even out, though your body still trembled slightly against him. He held you tighter, his hand moving in slow circles over your back. “Not letting go, baby,” he whispered again, his lips brushing against your temple. “Not tonight, not ever.” You nestled against Trent’s chest, your head tucked under his chin as his arms wrapped around you protectively. His steady heartbeat echoed in your ear, grounding you amidst the swirling chaos of your mind. The warmth of his body and the way he held you felt like a lifeline, tethering you to safety when everything else felt broken. “I love you,” Trent whispered, his voice soft and trembling with emotion. “I love you more than anything in the world. You’re everything to me, baby.” His words washed over you like a balm, soothing yet bittersweet. Your heart ached, a deep, raw pain that mirrored the soreness in your body, but Trent’s voice kept pulling you back, reminding you that you weren’t alone in this. And then, as if trying to fill the empty, aching spaces inside you, Trent began listing every reason why he loved you.

“I love because of everything that you are, pretty girl. You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair between words. “You’re so sweet, nicest girl I know, you care so much about everyone, even when they don’t deserve it. I love how smart you are, how funny you are. I love how you light up a room without even trying.” His voice cracked slightly, but he kept going, his hand rubbing slow, gentle circles on your back. “I love the way you laugh, the way you smile at me like I’m the only person in the world. I love to make you smile, baby. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I used to come over and just pray you’d be home, just so I could sit next to you, make you happy, keep you happy.” Trent ached recalling how you two grown up together and all he wanted was to keep you happy and yet here you were crumbling in his arms. You cried harder listening to him but he kept going. You needed to know. “I love how you’re always there for people, even when it’s hard. And I love how you let me be there for you, like now. I love you, baby, more than I’ll ever be able to say.” You listened in silence, tears streaming down your face as you burrowed closer into his chest. His words carried so much love, so much tenderness, it was almost unbearable. You cried harder, the weight of everything crashing down all at once. “I’ve got you,” Trent murmured, his voice steady even as his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him. “Always.” His lips found your hair, pressing soft, lingering kisses there as he held you tighter, yet with so much care it felt as if he thought you might break. His hands never stopped moving, tracing slow, comforting patterns across your back. Eventually, your sobs began to quiet, exhaustion overtaking you as Trent’s warmth and gentle reassurances lulled you into sleep. Your breathing evened out, your body going limp in his arms as you finally found some semblance of peace. Trent stayed still for a moment, his chest rising and falling steadily as he looked down at you. Your tear-streaked cheeks glistened in the faint light, your lips slightly parted, your face still etched with the pain you carried even in sleep. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. Tears filled Trent’s eyes, spilling over as he shut them tightly, his chest heaving with quiet, shaky breaths. He pressed another kiss to your hair, the salt of his tears mingling with your scent.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he held you closer. “I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry, baby.” He cried silently, his tears dampening your hair as he stroked your back, his thumb brushing over a small bruise on your arm. The sight of your battered body and the weight of your pain tore at his heart, and all he could do was hold you, hoping his presence would be enough to start piecing you back together. “I’ll fix this,” he murmured softly, his voice a quiet vow. “I don’t know how, but I’ll fix this. I’ll keep you safe. Always.” Trent stayed awake for hours, his tears eventually drying as he held you close. Every now and then, he’d press another kiss to your hair, his lips lingering as if he could somehow pour all his love and apologies into you through that simple touch.And as the night stretched on, Trent whispered one final promise into the quiet room: “I’ll never let you hurt like this again. I swear, baby. Never again.”

It was late into the morning, it was actually leaning into the afternoon when Jack knocked gently on your bedroom door.  Trent barely heard it. Jack opened the door seeing that he heard no sound on the other side. Jack stepped into the doorway, his face etched with concern as he took in the sight before him. The room was dim, the curtains still drawn, letting in only a sliver of the afternoon light. You were completely draped over Trent, your body molded to his like you couldn't bear even the smallest distance. Trent was awake, but his entire focus was on you-his hands never stopping their slow, soothing strokes along your back, his lips pressing gentle kisses into your hair every so often, murmuring soft ‘I love yous’ like a prayer. 

“Yo.” Jack whispered quietly, nodding to grab Trent's attention off you, if only for a moment. Trent glanced over, his tired eyes meeting Jack's as he reached out a hand, silently dapping his mate up. It was a simple greeting, but there was a quiet understanding between them-Jack was checking in, making sure Trent was alright too. But the moment Trent's hand left you, you stirred, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you instinctively sought out his touch again. Your body shifted on top of him, nuzzling into his chest, your arms tightening around him as if to pull him back. Trent immediately brought his hand back to you, rubbing slow circles into your back again.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm here," Trent whispered, his voice impossibly soft, his lips brushing your forehead. Jack watched, something deep in his chest aching at the sight. He had never seen you so vulnerable before, so completely dependent on someone else's presence just to feel safe. And he had never seen Trent like this either-his usual confidence stripped away, his entire being consumed by the need to comfort you, to protect you.

"She get any sleep last night?" Jack looked at you, keeping his voice low. Trent nodded, but his eyes were still full of exhaustion. Trent let out a slow breath, looking down at you. Even in sleep, you still looked troubled, your brow slightly furrowed, your grip on him impossibly tight. He hated it-hated that you were hurting like this, hated that he couldn't take it all away.

"Yeah... cried herself to sleep, but she's been in and out for a while now." His hand never stopped moving on your back, keeping you tethered to the safety of his touch. "She's not let go of me once, though." Jack sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

"I figured. Just wanted to check on you both." He hesitated before adding, "When she wakes up, I'lI make sure there's food, yeah? She'll need it." Trent nodded, a silent thank you passing between them.  The room stayed dimly lit, the curtains still drawn, keeping the world outside at bay. The only sound was your steady breathing, though even in sleep, your body remained curled into Trent’s, as if afraid to let go. His hands never stopped moving, rubbing slow circles along your back, grounding you in whatever way he could. His own body ached—his swollen hand throbbed, his face bruised and sore—but none of it mattered compared to the way you clung to him. “Brought you some ice too…” Jack held up an ice pack Trent hadn't noticed was in his hand.

“Thanks, bro. Probably a little late now… swollen already.” Trent exhaled, a tired chuckle escaping his lips as he nodded down at his bruised hand on your back. Jack shrugged, setting it down on the nightstand.

“Yeah, well, if you want it, it’s here.” He hesitated for a moment, eyes flickering down to where you lay on Trent’s chest, his arms locked protectively around you. His voice dropped even lower. “How’s she been, seriously?” He asked, looking for more. Trent sighed, rubbing his thumb over your shoulder absentmindedly. 

“The same as,” he admitted, his voice thick with exhaustion. “Obviously rattled, but she’s just been sleeping… if she wakes up, she cries for a bit and then back to sleep.” Jack gave a sad, knowing nod, his brows furrowing as he reached out, gently brushing a piece of hair from your face. You barely stirred, just nestled deeper into Trent, as if even in your sleep, you knew where you were safest. Trent’s voice softened even more, his grip tightening around you instinctively. “If I take my hands off her, asleep or not, she freaks out, so…” Jack inhaled sharply, shaking his head. 

“Jesus.” His voice was barely above a whisper, a mix of anger and sorrow laced in the single word. Trent’s jaw tensed, his gaze fixed on you. 

“I don’t even know, mate… this is…” But his sentence trailed off into nothing, because there weren’t words for it. Jack sat on the edge of the bed, watching his sister— someone he used to think of a strong—curled up like a wounded animal, looking anything but. 

“It’s awful,” he admitted. “But she trusts you. She just feels safer with you after last night. She always has.” Trent swallowed hard, nodding. 

“It was fucking awful, but she should trust me. I love her. I tried to protect her, mate.” Trent tried to explain. Jack met his eyes, nodding with quiet conviction. 

“I know, mate. You did.” Jack confirmed sincerely. Silence settled between them again, thick and heavy. Trent shifted slightly beneath you, hesitating before lowering his voice, not wanting to wake you, as if an inch more of space between you would make it so you couldn’t hear, what he was going to ask.

“Any word on…” He didn’t say the name, he didn’t even need to say Josh’s name. He didn’t have to. Jack already knew. Jack’s jaw clenched.

“Said charging him with assault and extortion.” Jack explained. Trent’s brows shot up in surprise. 

“Really?” He said low but surprised. He had expected Josh to walk away unscathed, like he always did. The fact that something was actually sticking this time? It stunned him. Jack nodded. 

“Yeah, I mean, obviously the physical evidence on her from what he did that night was obvious to them, he had her under his fingertips." Jack swallowed and Tfrent winced. It was just as brutal to hear as it was to say. "And all the other times—she had photos of, so I grabbed those. And then Ty got all the video stuff sorted. So.” He shrugged, like it was nothing, but Trent knew how much effort it must’ve taken to pull all of that together over just last night. Trent let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Wow…” His arms subconsciously tightened around you, like holding you closer could erase all the damage that had been done.

“Yeah…” Jack exhaled, rubbing his face before standing up. “It’s good though, mate." Trent nodded. "Need anything?” He asked. Trent shook his head.

“Nah. Just gonna chill for a bit. See what she feels up to later. Sorry. Hope that’s—” Jack cut him off with a look.

 “Bro, it’s cool.” He said but then paused. His voice softened as he looked at you again. “Thanks for being there for her.” Trent glanced down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. 

“There was never a choice, mate. She’s everything to me.” Trent let out a deep breath, adjusting his grip on you as you stirred slightly in your sleep. His hands, despite their own aches, instinctively resumed their slow, comforting strokes along your back. Jack stood beside the bed, watching the two of you with a mixture of sadness and quiet admiration. “But Jack…” Trent spoke, causing Jack to pause. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” Trent murmured after a moment, shaking his head. “There was no world where I wasn’t going to be there for her.” His voice was firm, unwavering. Jack nodded, rubbing a hand over his jaw, his expression unreadable. 

“I know,” he said simply. “But still.” A beat of silence passed between them, heavy with the weight of the last twenty-four hours. Trent glanced at the ice pack on the nightstand, then at his swollen hand, but he made no move to take it. His priorities were elsewhere. Jack noticed. 

“You should at least put that on for a bit,” he said, nodding toward it. Trent let out a small, humorless chuckle. 

“Hurts like hell, but it’s nothing compared to…” His voice trailed off as he looked down at you, his chest tightening. Jack sighed. 

“Yeah, I get it.” He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “She’ll be okay, you know.” Trent swallowed hard, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on your back. 

“I hope so,” he whispered, almost like he was afraid to say it too loudly. Like the thought of you not being okay was too much to bear. Jack looked at him, really looked at him. 

“She will be,” he reassured. “She’s got you.” Trent met Jack’s gaze, something unspoken passing between them—an understanding, a shared promise. Jack had done everything he could to ensure Josh faced the consequences. And now, it felt like it was Trent’s turn to do what he did best—love you, protect you, make sure you never had to feel that kind of fear again. Jack gave Trent’s shoulder a firm squeeze before stepping back. 

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” he said before slipping out of the room, leaving the two of you in the quiet sanctuary of each other. Trent exhaled slowly, shifting just enough to press a lingering kiss to your forehead as he tightened his arms around you.

The cinema room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the screen in front of you. Trent had managed to convince you to leave the bed, but not much had changed—you were still draped over him, wrapped up in his arms like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. His fingers traced soft, absentminded circles on your back, his lips occasionally pressing against your hair. Then, a quiet voice broke through the silence.

“Hii…” Layla’s whisper sang through the room as she stepped in, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace. She approached with a soft smile, her eyes scanning the way you clung to Trent, how his arms cradled you protectively. She sat down next to you both, reaching out with gentle hands. “Can I have a cuddle too?” she asked, her tone light but full of love. She squeezed your arm gently, and Trent kissed your hair, nudging you ever so slightly, encouraging you to shift toward your best friend. Reluctantly, you lifted your head, sitting up on Trent’s lap and Layla pulled you into her arms, her warmth wrapping around you. You sniffled, your body weak against hers. “Oh babe…” Layla whined, holding you tighter. She hated this—hated how fragile you felt, hated that she could feel the weight of what had happened in your trembling frame.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t even know why you were apologizing, but the embarrassment, the shame, it all sat heavy on your chest. Layla sighed softly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she kissed your cheek. She hated that she could feel not only how broken you were emotionally but physically too in her arms. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, yeah?” Her words were firm, but her touch was impossibly gentle. She let you go, letting you settle back down against Trent, his arms immediately reclaiming you, holding you just as tightly as before. Layla wiped her eyes quickly, trying to keep things light.  “Okay, be honest though… better cuddle—me or T?” She sniffled through a teasing smile, nudging your side playfully. You tried—really tried—to laugh, but it wouldn’t come. It felt stuck, like everything else inside you. The pain was still too raw. Trent glanced down at you before looking at Layla, smirking, appreciating her efforts. 

“I might edge you out, you know, Lays.” His voice was soft, teasing but careful. He reached out and gave Layla’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, making sure you didn’t feel like you had to answer.

“Maybe… I am her best friend though.” Layla shot back with a giggle, wiping at her nose. Then she leaned down toward you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “But you’ve got your dream boy now, hmm?” And there, then in that moment, your best friend joking around with your boyfriend, Trent holding you, keeping you safe, Layla kissing you reassuring you, you let out a real giggle, something light bubbled up inside you. Soft, quiet, but real. It was there. Trent felt it more than heard it, the way your body shook ever so slightly with the sound. His chest tightened with relief, his heart aching in the best way. Layla’s eyes softened, glistening with emotion. Trent held you even closer, burying a kiss into your hair. 

“Yeah, you’ve got me. Love my pretty girl so much.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but you felt every word settle deep in your bones. His arms squeezed you, grounding you in the only truth that mattered right now—he was here, Layla was here, and you were safe.

Jack dropped down into one of the seats with a dramatic sigh, stretching his legs out as if he’d been carrying the weight of the world and he might as well have been. 

“I don’t know, Lays, you might get boxed out like me and Noah. Trenty says they’re best friends.” He tossed the words out with a smirk, arms folding across his chest as he gave a pointed glance in your direction. Layla gasped, her mouth falling open in mock offense. 

“Excuse me? And here I was thinking I was special.” She placed a hand over her chest, shaking her head like she’d just been personally betrayed. You could only let out another quiet giggle, hiding your face deeper into Trent’s chest, a small, shy smile pulling at your lips. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear—it was the only thing keeping you grounded. You felt his arms tighten around you slightly, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Yeah, best friend… love of my life too, hmm?” Trent hummed, his lips grazing your temple before trailing down to your neck in soft, playful kisses. His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper in it, something so undeniably him—warm, sure, and full of a love so consuming you almost felt overwhelmed by it. You nodded against him, your arms slipping under his to hold him tighter, fingers gripping at the fabric of his shirt like you never wanted to let go. It had been such a hard few days, but in his arms, even with the ache in your chest, you felt safe. Slowly, you lifted your head, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, letting it linger for a moment longer than necessary. When you pulled away, you turned toward Layla, stretching your hand out. She took it instantly, her fingers wrapping around yours in a firm but comforting squeeze.

“I can share,” you murmured softly, eyes filled with the quiet affection that only Layla could truly understand. She softened immediately, squeezing your hand back a few times in silent reassurance. 

“You’re very loveable, babe. Hard to resist.” She giggled. Trent kissed the top of your head again, holding you closer. Layla smirked, shooting a look at Jack before grinning. “Guess Jacky boy will be an okay sub then.” Jack scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Okay sub? Wow, alright then.” He laughed, flicking his gaze between the three of you. “Fine, I’ll take ya.” Without warning, he threw an arm around Layla in a rough, brotherly way, yanking her into his side like an annoying sibling. “Let them be gross together. We’ll survive.” He quipped. Layla groaned dramatically, struggling in his grasp. 

“Oh my God, Jack—you’re crushing me! Get off!” She struggled in his strong arms. Jack only laughed, keeping his grip tight, making it impossible for her to wriggle away. You lips uncontrolled pulled into a soft smile. As ridiculous as they were, these were your people.

“Nah, you said I was a fucking sub. If you’re bringing me in, this is what you get.” He smirked. Trent chuckled, shaking his head as he looked down at you, his grip never loosening. 

“They’re just jealous, baby.” He whispered against your hair, his voice full of playful amusement. You giggled softly, the sound barely audible, but real. It was small, but it was something. And for the first time in days, something inside you felt just a little bit lighter.

The room had been filled with an easy warmth, the kind that only came from the presence of the people who loved you most. Trent’s arms remained securely around you as you laid curled into his chest, his steady heartbeat your grounding rhythm. Jack and Layla sat close by, still exchanging playful jabs, the remnants of your soft laughter lingering in the air. For a brief moment, things almost felt… normal. Almost. But then as Jack was flicking through channels on the tv, he paused on a one, a news update cut through the soft atmosphere like a blade.

“It seems the ruckus of the Liverpool-Manchester United match this season has carried off the pitch and into an exclusive neighborhood of Hale last night. A disturbance call made to a Cheshire luxury home early Sunday ended with one arrest being made, Manchester United’s left winger, Josh Ellington…”

Your body instinctively tensed the moment you heard his name, your breath catching in your throat. Trent felt it immediately. His grip on you tightened, his large hands running soothingly up and down your back, his lips pressing a silent kiss against your hair as if to say, I’ve got you. You’re safe. He can’t touch you anymore. But it didn’t stop the ice-cold shiver that ran down your spine. Jack and Layla had gone completely still, their playful banter vanishing as quickly as it had come. The room, which had been filled with lighthearted teasing just seconds ago, now felt unbearably heavy, like the air had been sucked from it entirely.

“Police reported to a house party after receiving a call about the disturbance. It’s been understood that there were multiple footballers from both clubs in attendance. There is widespread speculation that a row kicked off between the rival clubs’ players…”

The words felt distant, like you were hearing them from underwater. You knew what had happened. You had lived what had happened. This wasn’t speculation to you—it was real. The bruises on your skin, the lingering ache in your ribs, the shattered feeling deep in your chest… all of it was evidence of that night. Josh had been arrested. That should’ve meant relief, right? But all you felt was a deep, aching sadness. Because even though he was behind bars, you were still here, curled into Trent’s arms like a wounded bird, your body still bearing the marks of what he had done. Jack let out a sharp exhale, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he shook his head. 

“Fucking dickhead.” His voice was tight, filled with barely restrained anger. Layla swallowed hard, her gaze flickering to you immediately, her hand reaching out, rubbing your arm in silent comfort. Trent stayed quiet, his chest rising and falling beneath you in deep, controlled breaths. You knew him well enough to know what that meant—he was pissed, trying his hardest to keep himself calm for you. His fingers brushed the side of your arm, tracing slow, deliberate circles over your skin, his way of reminding you he was here. You took in a shaky breath, pressing your face further into his chest, as if you could disappear into him entirely. His warmth, his strength, his love—it was the only thing keeping you from unraveling completely.

“Fuck ‘em honest. He can’t hurt you anymore, baby.” Trent murmured so quietly only you could hear it, his voice thick with emotion. “Never again.” And even though the sadness still clung to you like a second skin, you believed him. Because as long as you were in his arms, as long as he held you this tightly, you knew you were safe.

A while later, Jack strolled into the kitchen, rubbing his face tiredly as he made his way to the fridge. Layla was already there, quietly making tea for you. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched as she moved around, carefully pouring the hot water into a mug.

“I'm glad you came over, Lays. She hadn’t been talking much, so this has been good,” Jack finally said, stepping up beside her. His voice was gentle, as if he knew she was holding onto something fragile. Layla turned her head slightly, and Jack caught the way her eyes filled with tears. She blinked quickly, as if willing them away, but they were there—threatening to spill over.

“I needed to see her, Jack,” she murmured. “That was so scary.” Layla admitted. Jack sighed, leaning back against the counter. 

“Yeah, was a lot.” He ran a hand over his jaw before glancing at her again. “You okay?” He asked. Layla hesitated before exhaling, stirring the tea absently. 

“Yeah… I just…” She trailed off for a moment, her voice quiet. “Honestly, I never knew it was so bad. And even then, I didn’t think anything like that would happen.” She earnestly told him. Jack nodded slowly, his expression darkening. 

“Neither. I can’t wrap my head around it.” He shifted, standing up straighter as he reached for two more mugs. “I’m sorry we didn’t check on you last night, though.” He set them down beside her, his voice laced with sincerity. Layla glanced at him with a small, appreciative smile. 

“Jack, there was a lot going on,” she reassured him, her tone understanding. She turned back to the tea, adding sugar and a splash of milk. “I was fine. Noah took care of me.” Jack stilled. His eyebrows shot up as a slow smirk spread across his face.

“Did he?” He smugly responded too fast. Layla hummed in response, not picking up on his inflection, oblivious at first. 

“Yeah?” She turned toward him just as the tea bags steeped. Jack didn’t say anything at first—just gave her a look. Layla blinked. Then it hit her. “Oh my days—No! Jack! Stop!” She yelped, half-groaning, half-laughing as she shoved his arm. The smile on her face betrayed her, though. No was not the time for Layla to spill anything. Jack held his hands up in mock innocence, grinning. 

“I’ve said absolutely nothing here, Lays. You’re the one reading into things…” He let the sentence hang, watching her squirm, “Unless…” His smirk deepened. “Is there something I should be reading into?” Layla gasped dramatically, pointing at the door. 

“No. No. Just go away. We can’t be best friends anymore. This won’t work. I need Y/N back from T” She teased. Jack cackled, reaching for his drink. 

“Yeah, yeah, keep deflecting.” He joked. Layla rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her neck said more than words ever could.

“You alright?” Megan’s soft voice rang through the entryway as Jack let her inside, her arms full of bags. Her presence another addition to the arsenal of people supporting you. Not asked, but offering.

“Yeah, we’re alright,” Jack murmured, his eyes softening the moment he saw her. He reached for her, pulling her into a warm embrace. “You look beautiful, my Meg.” His voice was low, affectionate, as he pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. Megan sighed into the moment before pulling back with a small smile. 

“Brought her some things.” She held up one of the bags and a bouquet of delicate flowers. “Just gonna put these in her room. Don’t need to make a big deal out of it or anything. But I also brought some food and all sorts of things.” She let out a quiet giggle, trying to lighten the air. Jack, however, didn’t let her slip away just yet. His lips unconsciously pouted, his heart swelling at her thoughtfulness. He pulled her into another embrace, tighter this time, his chin resting on the top of her head.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Just chilling today, but I’m glad you’re here.” He took the bags from her, one hand still clasping hers as he kissed her temple. They began walking further into the house, but before they could step fully into the living room, Megan hesitated. Her fingers curled around his, pulling him back gently. Jack turned to her with a questioning look, but her gaze was cast downward. He felt the tension in her shoulders before she even spoke.

“Jack… I… I’m so sorry,” Megan whispered, her voice unsteady.  “I feel so at fault.” Jack’s brows furrowed. 

“Meg…” His voice was careful. “This is no one but Josh’s fault.” Jack explained.  

“I know… I know.” She exhaled shakily, wringing her hands together. “But it’s also…” She hesitated, her throat tightening, as if saying the name would make it more real. “Jess's” The name came out barely above a breath. “I’m sorry.” Jack’s jaw clenched at the mention of her. The weight of it all was still settling, but Megan’s guilt? He wouldn’t have that.

“Hey, my Meg…” His voice softened, and he stepped closer, cupping her cheek so she would look at him. “You’re not her, are ya?” Megan shook her head quickly, a quiet sniffle escaping her lips. Jack brushed his thumb over her cheek, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers for a moment. “Then don’t take this on. Not for a second.” His voice was gentle but firm, the conviction in his words wrapping around her like a safety net. Megan let out a shaky breath, nodding slightly. Jack pressed another kiss to her temple, lingering there for just a second longer. “You’re good, Meg. And you’re here. That’s what matters.”

They walked into the kitchen together, Megan placing the flowers down carefully before slowly unpacking the bags she had brought. The rustle of paper and plastic filled the quiet space as she moved around the kitchen island with ease, knowing exactly where everything belonged. Jack, perched on a stool, watched her with a lazy smile, his chin resting in his palm. Without looking up admist her swift movements, Megan reached out and pinched his side.

“Aye!” Jack yelped, jolting upright with a cheeky grin. Megan giggled, her eyes twinkling as she opened a bag of Percy Pigs she’d brought over, popping one into her mouth before turning to him with another between her fingers. She stepped closer, pushing it toward his lips. Jack caught her wrist gently, holding it still. Instead of just taking the sweet, he pulled her hand closer, slipping the gummy into his mouth while keeping his eyes locked on hers. And before she could react, he kissed her fingers softly. Megan let out a breathy giggle, her cheeks heating under his touch. Jack smirked at her, but the lightheartedness of the moment only distracted him for a second. If he was honest with himself, there was a part of him that was scared—scared of letting another woman into his life, one that wasn’t you or, more frankly, your mum. He had spent so long keeping people at a distance, afraid of the hurt that came when they left. A linger aftereffect of the pain of loosing your mum. He knew you wouldn’t leave. But seeing you hurt, seeing what Josh had done to you, had shaken him more than he ever thought possible. And right now, watching Megan show up—not just for you, but for him—when he never even asked, terrified him. Yet, it also meant everything.

"Meg?" Jack's voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. She turned back to him, and he reached out, gently pulling her between his legs as he sat on the stool. His hands found her waist instinctively, his thumbs grazing her sides in slow, soothing strokes.

"You okay?" she asked, offering him a sad smile. Jack exhaled, his fingers flexing slightly against her hips. 

"I just... you know I care about you." Megan nodded without hesitation. "And you know I love you." His voice was steady, but there was something deeper behind it— something vulnerable. Megan swallowed, her breath catching in her throat. He had told her before, but it had been in fleeting moments, in passing, when emotions were high. She had never been fully sure if he meant it in the quiet, in the stillness. 

"And you're sure about that?" she whispered. Jack didn't even blink. 

"More sure than l've ever been about anything." He rescinded immediately. Megan's lips parted slightly, her heart thudding in her chest. "It's been a little mad lately," Jack continued, his thumbs still running absentminded circles against her, grounding himself in the feeling of her beneath his hands. "And I just wanted you to know I want you." He paused, searching her eyes. "And I'd want you to maybe be my girlfriend when it's mad and..." His voice softened, "even when it's not."

"Jack..." Megan whimpered, emotion pooling in her chest, threatening to spill over. Her hands ran over his chest, feeling the warmth of him beneath her palms. "I can be yours, always. Mad or not." She giggled nervously, biting her lip. Jack smiled, but there was something cautious behind it. He tilted his head slightly, exhaling before murmuring, 

"It's just... once you're here, you're here for me, you know?" The weight of what he was saying lingered between them. His fear of being left coming in with a force.  She hummed in understanding, her fingers curling into his hoodie. 

"Okay," she said simply, her voice steady. "And I'm here." Jack closed his eyes for a moment, like he was letting it sink in. 

"Thank you for understanding." He whispered.  Megan smiled up at him. 

"So... am I your girlfriend, Jacky?" she teased, her voice light but full of meaning. Jack huffed out a bashful laugh, rolling his head to the side for a second before standing up, wrapping her in his arms, and pulling her against his chest. He hummed, swaying her back and forth in his embrace, his lips pressing into her hair.

"Yeah," he whispered with a happy chuckle. "My Meg."

In the days following, Trent’s arms wrapped snugly around your waist as he stood behind you, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder. His warm brown eyes met yours in the mirror, filled with soft adoration.

“What do you think about getting out with me today, baby?” Trent asked sweetly, his voice low and coaxing.

“Out?” You pouted, barely entertaining the idea. The comfort of being wrapped up with him felt too good to leave behind.

“Pleaase.” He grinned, pressing soft, rapid kisses along your cheek, one after the other, until you finally gave in with a quiet giggle. “C’mon, pretty girl,” he murmured against your skin. “For me? Please let me take the most beautiful girl in the world to go get some…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering back to yours in the mirror, waiting for you to fill in the blank. 

“Coffee?” You sighed playfully before mumbling. Trent nodded immediately, kissing your cheek again. 

“Yeah, baby. Whatever you want.” He told you. You hesitated for a moment.

“Can I shower first?” You asked softly. A small, sad smile tugged at your lips. Trent’s smirk was slow and teasing as he met your gaze in the reflection. 

“Can I…?” His tone was full of mischief, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. You giggled, nodding as he pulled you back against his chest, wrapping his arms tighter around you. His lips brushed your neck, lingering with playful kisses. “C’mere, baby,” he murmured, making it clear that, coffee or not, he had no intention of letting you go just yet.

The steam curled around you both as Trent guided you gently into the ensuite, his hands never leaving your skin. He undressed you slowly, his fingertips trailing over every inch of you as if he were handling something delicate, something sacred. The soft hum of the shower filled the air as he turned on the water, and the moment the warmth hit your skin, it felt like the weight of the past few days was being washed away. The hot water cascaded down your bodies, you found yourself drawn to him, your hands reaching out to trace the contours of his golden skin. Trent's muscular frame glistened with moisture, his tanned skin a stark contrast to the tiles surrounding you. You couldn't resist him; your fingers itched to explore every inch of his body. Trent pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a beat before his kisses trailed down your temple, along your jaw, and finally to your neck. His touch was tender, reverent, but even still, you could feel the tension in his body, the restraint he was forcing himself to hold. Your hands moved over him, tracing the planes of his skin, desperate to pull him closer. He shivered under your touch, his body responding instinctively even as his mind told him to slow down. You pressed yourself into him, tilting your head to kiss his neck, your hands gripping at his back, his shoulders, his waist—anywhere you could reach. You needed to feel him, to remind yourself that you were safe, wanted, that you were his, that he was yours. Trent let out a breath, hesitating for just a moment before his hands found your waist, holding you gently but firmly. 

"Nah, baby, please," he murmured against your ear, kissing just behind it. His voice was hoarse, filled with longing, but there was something else there too-concern. "Maybe let's slow down, yeah?" But you didn't want slow. You wanted to feel. You wanted to drown in him. Leaning forward, you grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your lips sought his neck, kissing and sucking gently, leaving a trail of wetness on his warm skin. He tasted like the essence of desire, and you craved more. Your hands roamed over his broad back, feeling his muscles beneath your fingertips.

"T, I need you," you whispered, your voice hoarse with need. "I just want to feel how much you love me again." you whispered, your voice desperate as you began to sink to your knees in front of him.

"Nah, nah, stop, baby," Trent's voice was firm as his hands cupped your face, guiding you back up. His deep brown eyes searched yours, his thumbs stroking gently over your wet cheeks. You tried your hardest to not be offended but he spoke again before your thoughts could spiral that far. "You promise you want to feel how much I love you... like this?" His voice was thick, serious, grounding. Your breath caught, and you nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. The heat between you was unmistakable, and the ache in your core had nothing to do with the warm water cascading around you. Trent exhaled slowly, letting his hands glide down your back, feeling the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. "Alright," he murmured, his touch sending a shiver through you. "But you know this is because I love who you are, yeah?" His voice was low, a whisper meant just for you.

"Yeah," you whined, your hands grasping at him, needing him closer, needing him to erase everything but this moment. And then, finally, Trent gave in, pulling you into him like you were the only thing keeping him upright.  You felt your heart beat harder hearing him. You gasped, silently, your voice breathless. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat of Trent's body as he pressed you against the cool tile. His hands roamed your body with purpose, his lips leaving a slow, lingering trail of kisses down your neck. 

"Cause I love you," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "And I love this body. I love everything inside of it." His words were spoken like a vow, his hands moved to greedily palm your ass, pulling you closer into him. 

"And you like my ass too?" you teased, relishing in the feeling of his hands of you, tilting your head back as his lips grazed over your collarbone. Trent pulled away just enough to meet your eyes, his grin lazy and full of adoration. 

"Absolutely. Like nothing else. Love every inch of you." You let out a breathy laugh between the pleasure, feeling light despite the intensity between you.  Before you could respond, he bent slightly, his strong arms scooping you up effortlessly, hands gripping under your thighs as he pressed you against the cold tiled wall more. Your breath hitched, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your body instinctively molded into his– The contrast of the cold surface against your heated skin sent shivers down your spine. Trent's lips found your neck, his kisses hot and demanding. His hands roamed over your tits, squeezing and kneading, making you arch into his touch. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his voice filled with admiration. "Every fucking inch of you." Your core clenched at his words, the pleasure intensifying with each caress. Trent's fingers found your wetness, stroking and teasing, making you gasp and squirm against him. He was smooth, moving to stroke his cock some before aligning it with your core. Then, with one swift thrust, he filled you completely, his cock sliding deep within your hot, wet core. You cried out, the sensation overwhelming as he stretched and filled you. Trent's hands gripped your thighs again, holding you steady as he began to move, his hips snapping forward with each powerful thrust.

"I love you, T," you whimpered, your voice breathless. His movements were slow at first, deliberate, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, 'I love you,' 'I love you,' like a prayer against your lips. Every thrust, every touch, was filled with something deeper than just desire. It was devotion, a need to remind you how much he worshipped you, how much he needed you just as much as you needed him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he grunted, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight and wet for me." You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he pounded into you. The water continued to rain down, mixing with your sweat, making your bodies slick and glistening. Trent's eyes never left yours, holding you captive in an intense gaze as he fucked you with abandon. His love for you was evident in every stroke, every touch, and every kiss.

"You're everything l've ever wanted," you whined, voice breaking as the emotions overwhelmed you. The pleasure built alongside the flood of emotions, your chest heaving as you clung to him. Trent's grip on you tightened, adjusting one hand holding your thigh securely around his waist so the other could slid up, cupping your jaw, tilting your face, making your eyes met his. Your eyes had filled with tears. 

"I'm here with you. Tell me you're here with me, baby," he rasped, his own voice thick with emotion, his dark eyes searching yours.  You nodded, unable to speak, your emotions raw and exposed. He held your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes, the deep brown pools reflecting the love and desire you felt. "You know I’m here?" he asked, his voice filled with concern and adoration. You managed a weak nod again, unable to find the words to express the depth of your feelings. Trent understood, his eyes softening as he held you close. "YN," he called your name, his voice filled with emotion. He held you tightly, his strong arms supporting your weight. Your heart was pounding, and you could feel the tears stinging your eyes. It was an overwhelming mix of emotions—love, passion, and a deep connection that left you breathless. Trent's lips found yours, kissing you softly, gently wiping away the tears that had begun to fall. "I'm here, baby," he whispered against your mouth. "I'm right here with you." The intensity was too much. The way he was looking at you like you were his entire world, the way he was holding you like you were something to be cherished-it broke something open inside you. Tears streamed down your cheeks causing Trent to still, concern flickering across his face. 

"No, baby. Please. Don't stop," you gasped, voice trembling. "I need you." His brows furrowed for just a second before he nodded, his hold on you tightening like he wanted to fuse you to him.

"Okay," he murmured, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your wet cheek. "You've got me." Then he moved again, slow and deep, his forehead pressing against yours, groaning into your skin as he gave himself to you completely. And in that moment, it wasn't just about making love-it was about healing, about holding onto each other in a way that nothing else in the world could touch. As the water continued to wash over you, you realized that this moment was more than just physical pleasure. It was a testament to the powerful bond you had with him. Trent's love for you was evident in every touch, every kiss, and every whispered word. And in that steamy shower, with his strong arms holding you, you knew that you had found something special, something that went beyond mere physical attraction. And so he drove into you again, hitting all the right spots, your climax building. Your body trembled, and your breath came in short gasps. Trent's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice hoarse. "Let me feel you cum for me. Look so beautiful when you cum f'me." His words were like a trigger, sending you over the edge. You cried out his name as your orgasm washed over you in waves of pleasure. Your inner walls clenched around his shaft, milking him as your body shook. Trent's own release followed, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep within you. 

The steam curled around you both, the water cascading down your entwined bodies as you remained wrapped in each other's arms. The remnants of passion, of pain, of everything that had come before, swirled down the drain, disappearing as if they had never existed. It felt baptismal in a way-not in religion, but in renewal. The past, the bruises, the weight of men like Josh, washed away, leaving behind something untouched, something whole. And that something was Trent. It was you, with him. Trent held you close, his breath warm against your temple, his hands steady and grounding against your back. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just existing in the aftermath, feeling each other's hearts still pounding in sync.

When he finally moved, it was with a gentleness that sent another kind of shiver through you. His strong arms lowered you carefully onto the cool tiles, his hands never leaving your waist, like he was afraid you might slip away from him. His eyes roamed your body, lingering over your damp, glistening skin. His gaze caught on the bruises, the faint scrape marring your décolletage, the reminder of Josh's cruel grip, of the necklace he had torn away. The sight of it made something flicker in Trent's expression-an ache, a silent fury, a desperation to undo what had already been done. Without a word, he dropped his head, his face level with the tender marks. He didn't say anything, but you felt everything in the way he pressed his lips to the bruises, the scrape, the places that hurt. His kisses were reverent, delicate, as though his lips could will the pain away, as though he could rewrite the past with every press of his mouth. He nuzzled his face against your skin, his breath shaky, his hands gripping your hips like he needed to hold onto you just as much as you needed to be held. He took a deep breath, attempting to reign in his own emotions.

"I hate that he hurt you," he murmured, voice thick with something unspoken. "Hate that I wasn't there to stop it." Your fingers slid into his wet curls, tugging gently, grounding him. 

"You came though.” You whispered ,feeling a lump form in your throat making it hard to speak. “And you're here now," you sniffled, feeling the tears come back with force again. He exhaled against your skin, pressing one last lingering kiss over your heart before looking up at you. His eyes were warm, filled with devotion, and something deeper-something unshakable.

"Yeah," he whispered, gripping you tighter. "And I'm never letting go."

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 29 xx

[vyxenisl0st]

╰┈➤ 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙄𝙑

Alastor x reader

🀥 Summary: You despised the TV Demon—the sound of his voice, his face, and especially his incessant news channel. But what happens when he finally says something worth listening to?

🀥 Warnings: fem!reader, slight angst, vulgar language

🀥 Word count: 1k

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V-coming soon

ﾟ･:,｡★＼(^-^)♪ありがと♪( ^-^)/★,｡･:･ﾟ

Back at the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor was doing his best to avoid the inevitable—talking to his wife.

He sat in the lobby, one leg crossed over the other, tapping his fingers idly against the armrest of his chair. His usual grin was still in place, but his mind was far from present. Angel and Vaggie were arguing nearby—about what, he neither knew nor cared. Their voices were just white noise, blending into the static that hummed at the back of his mind.

Instead, his thoughts fixated on her.

He had imagined seeing (Y/N) again countless times over the years. In some scenarios, she was furious, cursing his name with all the fire and venom he loved her for. In others, she was cold, looking through him as if he were nothing. But reality had been much crueler.

She had come to see him, stood right before him after all those years, and all he had done was push her away.

A mistake.

A mistake he didn’t know how to fix.

With an exasperated sigh, he snapped his fingers and teleported to the hotel bar.

Husk barely looked up as he approached, but the moment he caught sight of him, one of his brows arched in amusement. “Well, aren’t you just a sight?”

Alastor let out a dry chuckle. “Your job is to pour a drink, not make a statement.”

Husk smirked and grabbed a bottle. “Didn’t take you for the drinking type.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you here?”

Before Alastor could answer, Angel suddenly appeared at his side, draping an arm over his shoulder with an infuriatingly smug grin. “Oooh, somebody’s in a mood.”

Alastor didn’t flinch, nor did his smile waver, but his eyes flickered with something dark. A warning.

Angel ignored it. “I bet it’s about that chick that came to see you last week. What was her name? Wait, she didn’t tell us. Anyway, you’ve been out of it since then. Did she hit your ego too hard when she punched the radio static outta you?”

Alastor’s fingers twitched.

Husk sighed. “Angel, don’t.”

Angel simply gave him an innocent look. “What? I’m just saying, if I got my ass handed to me in front of a crowd, I’d be in a mood too.”

“I do not get my ass handed to me,” Alastor said, tone even but sharp enough to cut.

Angel shrugged. “Tell that to your face.”

Alastor’s patience was wearing thin, but he knew better than to let Angel get a rise out of him. Husk, however, had mercy on them both. “Her name is (Y/N),” he muttered.

Angel blinked. “Huh?”

Husk poured himself a drink. “The woman. She’s (Y/N). One of the oldest Overlords here. Runs the Pleasure District.” He paused, side-eyeing Alastor. “Alastor’s wife. Or, ex-wife. He’s not sure anymore.”

A sharp crack split through the air as Alastor’s fist slammed onto the bar.

“She is still my wife.”

Angel let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the show. “Oof. You sure about that, buddy? Because she sure didn’t look like your wife when she stormed outta here.”

Alastor’s fingers curled tighter against the wood.

Husk shot Angel a warning glare. “Enough. Give us a minute.”

Angel held up his hands. “Alright, alright, I’m going.” He took a few steps away before glancing back. “Still think she’s too hot for ya, though.”

Husk groaned as Angel disappeared into the lobby.

A heavy silence settled between the bartender and the radio demon. Alastor had yet to lift his hand from the bar, fingers tense against the polished surface.

Husk sighed. “You know, you gotta talk to her eventually.”

Alastor let out a short, mirthless laugh. “And say what, exactly?”

Husk gave him a flat look. “Do you want her to forgive you?”

Alastor hesitated.

For all his confidence, his charm, his power, the idea of speaking to (Y/N) again—really talking to her—unsettled him in a way few things did.

He had always been the one in control, the one who dictated the game. But this?

This was different.

“…Yes,” he finally admitted.

Husk scoffed. “Then go and fucking apologize.”

Alastor stared at him for a long moment before sighing and rubbing his temples.

“Easier said than done, old friend.”

Alastor returned to his room, his usual confident stride feeling strangely heavy. The door shut behind him with a quiet click, leaving him alone in the dimly lit space. For a brief moment, he simply stood there, staring at the floor, lost in thought.

What could he possibly say to her?

Apologizing wasn’t something he was accustomed to. He was a man of charm, of carefully chosen words, of showmanship. But (Y/N) had never been fooled by theatrics. She knew him too well—knew when his grin was real and when it was just a mask. And after seven years apart, he wasn’t sure if he could still tell the difference himself.

With a quiet sigh, he crossed the room, heading straight for the nightstand. He hesitated for only a second before pulling the drawer open.

There, nestled in a small, elegant box, was his wedding band.

The silver gleamed even in the low light, a cruel reminder of what once was. His fingers hovered over it before finally picking it up, the cool metal sending a shiver through him. He turned it over in his palm, tracing the familiar engravings on the inside—ones that once brought him joy but now felt like ghosts of a past he had abandoned.

‘Forever yours.’

His fingers trembled slightly as he slipped the ring onto his finger, where it had always belonged. But it felt heavier than he remembered.

For years, he had been too ashamed to wear it. How could he? He had left her behind—disappeared without a word, forcing her to live in a world where he no longer existed. He had convinced himself that he wasn’t worthy of her anymore, that she deserved more than the mess he had become.

But now… now that was no longer for him to decide.

Whether she still considered him her husband wasn’t his choice to make.

But he had to see her again.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his tie, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in his vest. He glanced at himself in the mirror, his smile—so often effortless—feeling foreign for the first time in decades.

Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left the hotel.

He was going to get his beloved back.

‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿

Taglist: @msfandomsblog @l34n @l3rittany @hayamie @lynsexperience @sirens-and-moonflowers

[butlervibesonly]

hi!! I love ur writing and I had this idea if you could please write it!? It could be Austin x actress reader, they are dating and made a movie together and now they are at some kind of interview, but they are both distracted by each others pressence 🤭 maybe like the tension between them growing visibly and it could end with some funny comments from fans? Thank you in advance! 🌼

𝑈𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 || Austin Butler

• Pairing: Austin Butler x actress! reader

• Warnings: Austin and reader can’t take their eyes off of each other, flirting, desire,…?

• Note: HIII! What an absolutely amazing idea! You can’t imagine how I enjoyed writing this!! ( @eternal-love could tell… 😝) also! picture used at the end is fictional; created with app called TwiNote! AND YES, I HAD TO ADD THIS SONG.

You and Austin have been dating for a long time now. You both met thanks to the same industry you two work at and that nothing less than your beloved acting. Now that Hollywood has given you the opportunity, both of you were casted in a movie where you played love interests.

That was of course very easy for you, since the love you guys feel for each other is truly unconditional. When it comes to making movies there are a lot of duties to promote the movie by any kind of a way. One of them is interviews. Austin and you are on a press tour, promoting the movie you guys made and today… there is something in the air…

The bright studio lights cast a warm glow over the set, highlighting the two stars seated side by side in chairs. And that is of course you and Austin. The interviewer has barely finished the introduction before the oddly satisfying energy filled the room.

Even tho that the two of you have been together for nearly over a two years now, sitting next to each other like this, all dressed up for the press tour, makes it feel like you are back on set, falling for each other all over again.

You look absolutely breathtaking in a formal black dress in Austin’s eyes. Austin is wearing his grey shirt and black pants – so damn handsome. There are some glances between the two of you from the beginning of this interview. Something so unspoken but still so obvious.

“So,” the interviewer started, bringing you from your own thoughts. “Austin, Y/n… It’s nice to have you here today.” Both you and Austin smile warmly. “Thanks for having us.” Austin says, his voice low and deep - just like the way you love it.

“You two have worked together before, but this was your first time playing romantic opposite each other. Did that make things easier or harder?”

Austin opens his mouth to answer, but then you shift beside him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and he gets completely lost in thoughts. His gaze flickers to you, and you only, caught in the way your lips curl so slightly at the edges, because you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

You raise an eyebrow, noticing his hesitation. “Easier,” you answer smoothly, tilting your head toward him after breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Definitely easier.”

Austin clears his throat, attempting to focus on the interview that’s being recorded. “Yeah, I mean, when you already have a connection, it helps.” He finally manages to say, though his words came out slower than he wanted, as if his brain is struggling to catch up with the sight of you beside him.

“I see. So you slid into the characters pretty easily, didn’t you?” Austin chuckles, wanting to answer the question with confidence, but then your fingers brushes his to hold his hand. Just for a second, just enough to send a spark up his arm. Austin of course looses the thoughts again. You can see he is out of his straight thinking, and take over the question again.

“Mhm, yes. The characters we got to play are actually not so different from us, so it was really easy to bring those characters alive.” you smile warmly. The interviewer grins, clearly noticing the interaction of you and Austin. “You both look like you’re still in characters.”

Austin rubs his tight as he always does, his other hand rubbing his lips - as he always does. “Are we?” he smirks, letting out a laugh to ease the atmosphere in the air.

What Austin actually does is that he unbuttons the few buttons of his shirt on his chest. You peripherally see his chest glistening in the studio lights, the lust in your eyes growing stronger. Okay. Focus. Just answer the questions… goes through your head.

The interviewer is speaking about the movie, but neither you and him registers the words. You shift beside him again, crossing your leg over the other. You just look so stunning for Austin to keep his eyes off of you. Too stunning. How is he supposed to form sense able sentences when you’re sitting this close?

Little does he know that you are now kinda doing it on purpose. Austin hears his name being mentioned, knowing he needs to get back to reality from his fantasizing about you. Say something, Austin. Anything.

“So, Austin, what was your favorite scene to film?” the interviewer asks. His favorite scene? He blinks, hesitating. Right. The movie. The reason you’re both here.

His brain is stubborn, refusing to pull up any scene except for that one; The one where your hands roamed around his body, the way you whispered his name like it belonged to you. The way it never felt like acting.

“Um…” He starts searching for a savory answer. “I really liked the one that actually director decided to remove… But it was some kind of scene where Y/n and I run through the rain on a beach.”

You smirk, knowing he is lying and tries to hide his real intentions. It’s actually no longer after when you are the one being questioned, and suddenly know how it felt for Austin when you are being seduced by the sight. He’s staring.

You can feel the weight of Austin’s gaze without even looking at him. It’s been happening since you walked onto the set of this interview of course, but now it’s getting way harder to ignore. Every time you move, his eyes follow. Every time you smile, his lips twitch like he’s fighting the urge to do the same.

It’s distracting. So unfairly distracting. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, again, pretending not to notice the way his hands flex slightly, like he wants to reach out and just touch you.

As the interviewer continues to say something, you risk a glance at Austin, and sure enough, he’s already looking at you with that expression of his. His blue eyes are squinted due to his eyebrows furrowing, more intense, almost as if he has forgotten you’re supposed to be acting professional.

You notice the way his jaw clenches when he’s thinking. His fingers drumming against his knee when he’s trying to focus. The way his unbuttoned shirt opens just right, and how his cologne still lingers.

“…undeniable desire,” the interviewer says. “I mean, come on, do you two even realize how you look at each other?”

Austin finally tears his eyes from you, shaking his head with a breathy chuckle. You cross your arms, biting back a smirk. Damn yes you do. And so does everyone else.

Interviewer leans back in his chair, watching both of you being barely present. You and Austin are both trying to stay focused, you really do, but at this point, it’s a lost cause already. Every glance, every half-smirk, every moment or hesitation before answering a question. Too much to handle at this point.

The interview ends the moment, thanking you both for coming - even tho you did absolutely nothing at the interview - and with a quick glance behind the camera at his producer he grins. Yeah, this definitely going viral.

With a teasing smile the interviewer calls it a day and shakes both of your hands. “Well, I think that’s all the proof we need.” Austin’s furrows his brow. “Proof?”

You are equally confused as Austin. “Of what?”

The interview chuckles, standing up. “That the two of you are terrible at pretending you’re not totally into each other.”

Austin lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head and you groan, covering your face with one hand. “Yeah, it’s just hard not to keep eyes off of her,” Austin’s hand lands on the small of your back and you shiver at his touch.

You two walk off the set, heading into the backstage. As soon as you both arrive at the changing room, Austin smashes the door to close them. You gasp surprisingly and he leans you against the door.

“You will be the death of me, Y/l/n.” he whispers into your ears, his lips then capturing yours. He grips your hips, pulling you close enough to him as he savor the fact he can finally kiss you. Only a fool wouldn’t know how you spent the rest of the night after arriving at the hotel.

[nameless-jamie]

Birthday Boy

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

It was still early in the morning when Y/N arrived at Jamie’s house, the first rays of sunlight spilling through the windows as she approached the front door. She had come well before anyone else, knowing that setting up for Jamie’s birthday party was going to take all day. As his personal assistant, she’d seen her fair share of birthday disasters. But this one would be different. She was determined to make sure everything went off without a hitch, even if it meant dealing with Jamie’s antics, especially early in the morning.

She rang the doorbell, shifting the stack of decorations in her arms, hands too occupied to rummage for her keys. The door opened almost immediately, and there he was: Jamie Tartt, the birthday boy, wearing a goofy grin and a T-shirt with boxer shorts. His hair was a mess and he was barefoot—clearly, he had just rolled out of bed. Not a sight that Y/N isn't used to, being his assistant for almost one and a half years

“‘Bout time, love,” he said, stepping aside so she could come in. “Been waitin’ ages.”

Y/N snorted, stepping inside with a bag full of decorations. “Jamie, it’s seven in the morning. I know you've been sleeping...”

“Exactly. I've waited for you to congratulate me in me dreams,” he said, dramatic as ever.

She rolled her eyes but grinned. “Happy birthday, Jamie.”

Before he could respond, she pulled him into a warm hug. He barely hesitated before wrapping his arms around her, squeezing her just tight enough to make her stomach flip.

“Mmm,” he hummed, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Best gift so far. You're always the first person to wish me happy birthday, never breaking that tradition,” he mumbled into her hair.

Y/N huffed a laugh, pulling back, but Jamie kept his hands on her waist for just a second longer than necessary before finally letting go.

“Alright, let's get to work,” she said, clearing her throat and ignoring the way her skin burned where he’d touched her. “We’ve got a lot to do before tonight, decorations, setting the table, and so on. So you go eat some breakfast or something while I get started.”

Jamie didn’t move. Instead, he crossed his arms and gave her a smug look. “Or—hear me out—I stay right here and help.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Help? You? On your birthday?”

Jamie gasped. “Excuse me? I can be helpful.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Jamie, last week you tried to put together a shelf and nearly set your kitchen on fire.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jamie said, holding up a finger, “there was no actual fire, just a tiny bit of smoke. Second, this is different. It’s my party, innit? I should get a say.”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “Fine. Just—try not to destroy anything.”

Jamie grinned. “No promises. You want coffee?”

"Yes, milk, no sugar please!" Y/n shouted after him as he made his way to the kitchen. She was hot on his heels.

"I know how you drink your coffee, silly" Jamie shouted back.

"Sooo," Y/N said while propping herself on Jamie's kitchen counter while she watched him prepare her cup. "You got any special wishes for your birthday this year?"

Jamie only hummed in thought then walked towards her, standing between her legs and handing her the cup.

"Not that I can think of right now." he placed his hands on her knees.

Nervous, that's one way to describe Y/N's feelings, being in this position with Jamie right now.

"Well, if you can think of any presents you'd want, tell me." She hurriedly said and jumped off the counter. "Time for decorations!"

An Hour Later

Y/N stood on her tippy toes, trying and failing to tape up a banner over the kitchen doorway. She almost had it—just a little higher and—

“Need help, love?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin as Jamie suddenly appeared behind her, way too close. She could feel his chest against her back, his breath tickling her ear. He changed into his joggers, wanting to get a workout in before the party started.

“I got it,” she said, trying to act unaffected, even though her pulse had gone haywire. So close. She could feel his warm breath in her neck.

Jamie, of course, ignored her. His hands landed on her waist—big, warm, deliberate—and he effortlessly lifted her an extra few inches.

“There ya go,” he murmured, voice low, right by her ear.

Y/N’s fingers fumbled slightly with the tape, her brain short-circuiting at the very obvious way his hands tightened around her hips. She pressed the banner in place, clearing her throat.

“Okay. Done.”

"Look you did it all by yourself now, I only gave you a little boost..." Jamie didn’t put her down immediately. Instead, he hummed. “Y’know, this is kinda nice.”

Y/N scoffed, but it was weaker than intended. “Jamie.”

“What?” he said, finally lowering her back to the ground, though his hands lingered. “S’not my fault you’re tiny. Kinda cute, actually.”

Y/N turned to glare at him, but Jamie just smirked, tilting his head.

“You’d make a good birthday present, y’know.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Jamie grinned. “I mean, s’my birthday, right? You asked me what I'd wish for. And you’re already here, lookin’ all cute, helpin’ me set this all up an’ shit. If you really wanted to make my day, you could just—” He gestured vaguely, smirking down at her. “—put a bow on or somethin’.”

Y/N groaned and slapped his chest lightly. “Jamie, for the love of God—”

“Ohhh, or better yet,” he continued, completely ignoring her, “I could unwrap you instead.”

Y/N then smacked his arm, hard, face burning up. “Jesus Christ, Jamie!”

He cackled, clearly pleased with himself. “C’mon, love. You wouldn’t deny me my biggest birthday wish, would ya?”

Y/N shook her head, biting back a smile. “You are ridiculous.”

Jamie just grinned. “Yeah I know, but you love it, right?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

Jamie leaned against the counter, watching her with that infuriatingly smug expression. “Ok enough banter,” he said, “seriously, what did you actually get me?”

Y/N smirked, crossing her arms. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Jamie pouted like a toddler. “But I hate waitin'.”

“Too bad.”

Jamie sighed dramatically, but there was something else in his eyes—something softer, fonder, beneath all the teasing. “Fine. But if it’s not as good as you in nothing but a bow, I will be disappointed.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Duly noted. If you don't like my present, that's my plan B then.”

Jamie's smirk widened, wiggling his eyebrows. "I already fuckin' hate it'."

But as she turned back to her work, she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Jamie wasn’t entirely joking.

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 20: Final

wordcount: 9,860

(Sorry babes I'm like that toxic ex that comes back in ur life and gives you hope just to ghost you 💔👻 BTW no this is not 'final. Series is done' there is a Scream 5&6 I'm combining but this is the final for 4.)

—————————————

   You laid in bed with your own thoughts. you REFUSED to sleep at night in this damn hospital after what happened last time. Getting startled in your half-sleep state was common. Even by Karla knocking on the door and Mindy and Chad barreling in during the late afternoon while you had almost dozed off.

“Hey! She's hurt you two.” Karla scolded harsher then she usually did as Mindy almost tried jumping on your hospital bed and reluctantly stayed to the side. “We brought your purse that was in Randy's car. Oh, and your suitcase from the house.” She offered as she sat both down on the floor near a hospital chair.

“Oh…Thank you.” You murmured sitting up to look at her in a tired voice. Then casted your gaze to look down at the two bright eyed innocent kids staring up at you.

…You couldn't help staring at them and wanting to cry. Seeing Randy's lopsided smile and curious eyes in Chad and seeing his personality and sharp tongue in Mindy. You felt your throat tighten seeing them all dressed up. Karla in a black dress shirt and pants…Already knowing where they had been today.

Mindy and Chad asked you so many questions and you realized you had just been blankly staring at them with tears in your eyes.

Especially when Mindy just bluntly said, “Our Daddy died. We buried him today.”

As if you didn't already know.

You swallowed hard and furiously nodded, “I-I know honey. I'm so, so sorry.”

The guilt from just looking at them. How in the Hell could you see them knowing their Dad died because you got careless? Because of a stupid choice you made to go talk to those two in that barn and separate from Randy…That his final wish was you to stay far away from him and his family...How can you live with it?

Both 6 year olds looked sad, confused and concerned. This had to be so hard for them to fully process.

Karla, with a tight smile, talked a bit softer this time as she told them, “Here. Go to that vending machine down the hall where I can see you. No further.”

They took the money and nodded; running off as Karla tiredly sat in a chair near the door to watch them before asking you, “How ya feelin’, YN?”

“Better I guess. Not as sick. I…Should be asking you that.” You spoke barely above a whisper and tried not to cry. “I'm so sorry I missed Randy's funeral today. I-”

“No, not at all. Please, YN. Don't think like that. You can barely get out of bed.” She gave you a remorseful look. “I just- Shit. I should've known. I mean, you meet a man at a survivors meeting for victims of serial killers and think your life will be normal?” She wryly smirked and shook her head all before it faded. She looked at you with her own guilt. “YN…I didn't know you were kidnapped by those men when I called. I'm sorry, I should've known or helped or something. I could've accidentally got you killed! I-”

“No.” You interrupted her. “It's alright, I didn't speak in code or anything and…I'm okay.”

You hated being vague but she couldn't know. No one could. Dewey and Gale were a nightmare enough to deal with.

Karla watched her kids before leaning closer to whisper, “YN…Are you sure you're okay? They…They didn't? They didn't force you or…” She trailed off her question with immense worry on her face.

You stared before quickly shaking your head, “Oh no! No, nothing like that um…I don't know why they gave me up other than, uh, fear of being caught?”

You swore the way she looked at you was skeptical but maybe that was just your paranoia?

She exhaled, averting her eyes as something was clearly on her overworked mind before she just forced it out. “I gotta know...What happened?”

Your chest ached and stomach turned at her question. You already knew she'd ask. You almost hated talking to her because of it.

“Karla, I…” You faltered. Could you completely lie to her?

“Please.” She grasped your hand. A pleading gaze thrown your way with tears in her red rimmed eyes. “It makes no sense for Randy to split up. He wouldn't leave you alone, he wouldn't be in a parking lot of cars in a dark field by himself, he shouldn't have even been at that party…Why? Please YN, why? Dewey won't tell me anything and Gale…She's saying crazy things. I deserve to fuckin’ know as his damn wife, do I not?!”

“Crazy?” You repeated with a tense look at her hand clasped over yours.

“Talkin’ all kinds of craziness like you…Ya know. Like you know the whole story and you're…” She trailed off swallowing as her gaze wavered. “Not tellin’ it all or something.”

You frowned. “Gale's wrong. Whatever she said is just her hounding for more fame the older she gets…I had nothing to do with anything. NOTHING. I would never.” You couldn't even finish getting too devastated and angry to speak. That Gale, that dumb bitch, might be telling Karla YOU ACTUALLY could've killed Randy. That you murdered your best friend...It made your blood boil; Made your heart monitor rise a little too.

“Shh, I know.” She affirmed in a hushed tone at hearing your beeping heart monitor rising. “I just…I'm frustrated that no one has answers.”

Truly she was the only friend you had left, and yet, you had to lie through your teeth to her.

She continued in a whisper, “I also know you were his friend and you were together before he died. Please. If you know anything…Something.”

You stared at her for a moment before sighing, “...We went to the party cause we heard a noise at your house and figured we should be trying to catch the killer rather than wait…We did split at the party…We had…An argument-” Tears tried burning your gaze as you blinked up at the ceiling.

Karla looked both equal parts sympathetic yet urgently curious. “About?”

Your frown deepened as you tried to not let your lower lip wobble.

“YN, please. Not a single thing about any of this makes any damn sense. Where are those guys? Why is Dewey avoiding everyone? Why did they take you? How were you and Jill attacked at the hospital?...Please, what did you and my husband argue over?” Her voice grew more firm. Unrelenting in her pursuit for the truth about why she was now a widow.

Your voice failed you especially as you saw her crying as well. She quickly wiped her tears and you did the same as the kids came back and Chad slid you a candy bar. “Here, so you feel better.” He told you in his tiny voice. His eyes, despite being Karla's color, were Randy's round observant eyes to a Tee.

"I picked it out!" Mindy chimed in.

"Did not!" Chad scoffed.

"Did too!"

Karla quieted their petty bickering as a wry chuckle bubbled on you at their carefree issues they focused on at 6.

You forced a smile. You didn't have the heart to tell them you were so sick that even hospital food tore your stomach up on these heavy antibiotics. Let alone a candy bar. No you'd just hold onto it. “Thank you. I just ate but I promise I'll eat it later and think of you two being so thoughtful!”

You kept that forced a smile and also forced your voice to be sweet. But on the inside; You felt…Like a stranger. You felt like an outsider. Everytime you looked at these kids it was painful. You knew Karla would not rest till she knew what you and Randy argued about and you couldn't tell her. You just couldn't tell Karla and it ate you up inside. She was going through it. Husband dead, two kids, a bank teller job she didn't make enough on to really afford anything now that she was a single income household.

Mindy and Chad yapped away while you looked at Karla who dabbed her eyes. She looked ready to go step into the hallway or bathroom to collect herself but she had more stress on her shoulders than you felt she deserved.

There was only one thing you could do. You were 32 with no kids and in the lifestyle you had; it would be selfish to bring any into this. You had your home, you had passive income from ‘Out of Darkness’...And who were you kidding? Who needed retirement if Ghostface would kill you? You'll be lucky to make it to 60...After all, Randy made it to 32 almost 33 and still didn't make it.

“...Mindy? Can you get in my purse?” You asked her as she paused to hear your request before obediently getting it with an eager ‘Yes!’.

In all the chaos; you forgot it. Hell, you wouldn't have had your phone had it not been in your pocket that night. “Careful, too heavy. Your Godmother has too much stuff in there... Thank you.” You joked as you helped her lift it over the bed with what little strength you had right now.

All three of them curiously watched you get in your checkbook and get out a pen.

Mindy and Chad watched while Karla looked perplexed before she mumbled, “What are you?...” Then dumbfounded as you wrote a check and handed it to her. “What is this-” Her voice trailed off and eyes widened to saucers as she saw the amount.

“A check. Pay for the funeral cost, live on it, I suggest moving the fu-”

Chad and Mindy gasped. Mindy pointed, “Aw, you swore!”

You couldn't help a snort like chuckle that hurt your stitched up stomach. “Ugh, sorry. Moving from Woodsboro.” All before seriously looking at Karla. “And if you stay then…Use it to get the best security system known to man.”

Karla was floored at the amount of 0's you wrote. “YN! There is no way I'm accepting this!”

“Karllaa,” You drew her name out in light scolding. “Take it. Put your pride aside and think of these two…You don't owe me anything. I'm the one that owes you.” You sighed at the last part.

She gave you an odd look, “Whaddya mean?”

“...Nothing. Survivors' guilt, I guess....”

She tried shoving the check back at you, “YN, you don't owe me for living! Randy would never accept this from you and neither am I!” She went to rip it.

“Karla!” You forced out firmly. “Use it for his funeral, use it for groceries, damn it, think of your kids! Just because Randy was stubborn doesn't mean you have to be.”

She faltered, her fingers on the check as she gazed down at the twins. Her eyes softened just looking at her children she and Randy brought into this world together. They stared up at her, their only source of comfort and protection now.

“Please…It's all I can give you. It's the only way I know how to make this right. I promise, that isn't going to break me. I have plenty to live off of.” You gave a tight smile while trying to reassure her.

This was the only thing you had. If you couldn't bring Randy back then you'd at least take care of his family. He's probably rolling in his grave cussing you out right now for this but all well. If you couldn't tell her the truth then this was the least you could do.

“YN…” Fresh tears of a different kind tried springing to her eyes. “I-I…I don't know what to say but…Thank you.”

For the first time in days, you felt a warmth spread through you as she hugged you. Leaning over to give a friendly hug to show how grateful she really was under her pride to not accept it at first. A small smile graced your lips as you soaked it in.

The kids watched and as you released her. You patted the bed offering them to sit on either side of you. Karla helped them as you looked between them. “I don't know how often I'll see you two after this.”

“But why?” Mindy urged.

“Yeah, why?” Chad begged even more. Eyes looking extremely sad and it tugged at your heart.

“Well…” You pondered what to say. “I just have a lot to think about. And you guys do too…And after all this I have to be very careful coming back to Woodsboro.”

Mindy frowned, “I heard people saying people die when you're here…”

“Mindy.” Karla scolded.

“No, no they do say that. I don't know if that's true or not but I can't risk it.” You sighed out ruefully.

Chad's eyes looked so scared, “So we'll never see you again?”

“Oh…Oh no, no. I'll try. Maybe when things settle down you can visit or I'll visit but…I need to go home and recover and figure things out.” You offered him a small smile.

He took this even harder than Mindy as he bribed you. “You can sleep at our house! You can have my bed!”

You gave a sad smile as you hugged him close and rubbed his back. Keeping one arm around Mindy as well.

You couldn't risk it. Not with Dewey, Gale, Jill…And besides that, even if Randy didn't mean it, he still told you to never see his family again. It felt like a direct spit on his grave if you came around every holiday or god forbid lived with them. It would also put them in danger of Jill or Billy and Stu or anyone else…Besides, the guilt would be astronomical and you knew if Karla knew the truth; she'd tell you the same thing Randy did if not worse.

“No, I need to go home. We'll figure this out somehow. Just know that I loved your Dad, I love your Mommy and I love both of you…We'll be together soon I just need time to think.”

It hurt. It hurt so goddamn bad. But they were in kindergarten. They'd move on, forget about you the more you space out visits and phone calls and soon you'd be like some distant family friend they forget for their own safety.

You just sat on that bed comforting them as Karla watched. Just soaking in this normal human warmth and contact. This motherhood you'd never get to experience. This family you'd never have of your own…Maybe if Mark would've lived; you'd have some kids of your own? Just imagining him as you remembered him. Some domestic normal fantasy of him smiling at you in the morning making pancakes with a daughter or son in the morning…But it faded to reality just as quickly. Of Ghostface storming in and Mark going for his gun and the kids screaming…That was reality. Domestic bliss was never for you. Fate had other plans.

At least you had the peace of mind that Randy's death wouldn't be in vain. He didn't have to work his ass off anymore and Karla didn't have to either for quite some time. They could rest. Something they needed after losing a husband and father.

———————————

Days went by. Jill was out of the hospital and already doing interviews on tv. You just turned the channel every time.

Everyday, Karla and the kids visited you and you were both grateful yet…Sad. It made things harder. And only one day went by of her not prying; you could tell it was eating at her. Why wouldn't it? Her best friend and husband she loved made her a widow over a secret argument that split you and him up while a killer was on the loose and you couldn't tell her what it was about. You prayed she didn't think it was an affair or something outrageous especially since you and Randy dated for a hot minute years ago.

You finally had to lie poorly and say it was stress over this killer and things got said that you shouldn't have that neither of you meant. Blaming each other in the heat of it all…Not a complete lie but a piss poor one that made you feel like shit for telling it. You swore one day you would just start hallucinating and see his ghost mocking you or something…

She bought it, comforting you that whatever he said, he didn't mean…But if only she knew. None of it made you feel any better.

And what made you feel worse, was besides the media trying to sneak in or Gale trying to act friendly like you were an idiot thinking she didn't have on a damn wire…But that Dewey didn't visit you. Not even once.

It went from heartache to bitter anger that he wasn't willing to talk. To hear you out without Gale present. To not ask his own questions…But then again, maybe you couldn't trust him anymore anyways?

You even played with Sidney's locket you had in your suitcase Karla brought and suddenly it felt empty too. Somehow in your mind, you had clung onto hope that her and Tatum would forgive you and understand the position you had been forced into for years but with Randy and Dewey's reactions…You weren't sure now. You weren't sure this locket that now felt like any other teen short lived friendship instead of a beacon of hope wasn't just…A thing. Just a thing that the person that died had gave to you and that the person wouldn't hate your guts or act like you don't exist if she was still around.

You sighed, hanging your head with the locket in your grasp…

You knew on that video that piece of shit Charlie had; was a recording of Randy begging for his life and not only for his kids and wife's lives but yours as well. It hurt so much worse than if he would've hated you to the very end. And yet, you couldn't be sure. Would he try to forgive you somehow? Rally against you and say fuck Dewey and Gale?... Or would his reaction be like Gale and Dewey? Agree with them even?

And yet, something in you screamed he may have been angry but eventually would have attempted to be a Mark and help you catch Billy and Stu and get therapy or something. At least you hoped. Another part of you said with his family now; he would've told you to stay away. Dewey couldn't look past his grief of Tatum and the betrayal of you lying. Gale was just an enemy in disguise from day one. The one friend who could possibly have forgiven your sins was dead and his wife and kids were reminders.

You got off your hospital bed and now dressed in comfortable clothes…It was time to leave. Well, actually it wasn't but it had been a week in here and you were ready the second they switched to oral antibiotics. You were both scared yet relieved. Tired of expecting cops to bust in your hospital room to book you or Jill to finish off as a loose end. You swore she tried but to your relief, it seemed despite his reluctance to see you; Dewey and now Judy were not taking chances after last time. Your room was monitored round the clock.

Sooner you leave to go to your secure home in the woods away from everyone, the better…Even if it is lonely.

“Do you need a car called for you?” The receptionist asked.

“No, I'm just going to the nearest bus station. Thank you.” You mumbled. Not sure who to trust.

So here you were, recovering but healed mostly, and lugging a suitcase on wheels behind you on the sidewalk. Thankfully, even if some recognized you, they were too hung up on Jill as you tried to avoid everyone. Frowning deeply at the bookstore you passed with a permanent closed sign. Passing all the changed buildings from when you had lived here in '96…You'd give anything to go back to being that 17 year old YN in the 90's.

You walked until you almost got on the outskirts of town, then settled. Getting out your phone…Karla knew where you lived…Maybe just this one time? Maybe have dinner and-

You looked up feeling watched. And you instantly scowled…That little bitch.

You just knew it was her. You tsked and hauled your suitcase up the best you could; subtly getting your knife that had been in your purse transferred to the inside of your boot lining. You stooped down to ‘pick up’ something and shoved the knife inside your jacket's sleeve.

As you got near the cemetery at the edge of town, you felt a presence as if someone was right behind you and whipped around.

“You wanna finish it? Do it!” You snapped. Tense and ready to fight that stupid cunt once again, and this time, you'd risk prison if it meant she was dead after everything she did.

“Oh, I wanna finish alright. But if I do it, you'll yell at me.”

You blinked at the voice before seeing Stu near a tree in garb he'd normally not wear to disguise himself.

“...Stu?” You gasped out and he shhed you harshly.

“Babe. We have been over this for 15 years. Stop name dropping in public.”

You looked around and got closer to whisper to him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. It's been a week. Too risky to call you.” He nonchalantly gave. “Ready to leave?”

“Um…Yeah but?-”

He grinned, “C'mon. Asshole is nearby. We'll take you home. I got on better meds at a hospital for a few days and we're both fine just waiting on you, Sweetcheeks.”

You eyed him skeptically.

He rolled his eyes, “Hey, that hurts. And after our moment? Tsk.”

“...No thank you.” And kept lugging your suitcase.

“No??” He looked dumbfounded and folded his arms. “So you're gonna huff it on foot clear back to your cabin an hour away, huh?”

“I'll figure something out. Just stay away from me.”

“Ouch.” I scoffed.

“I'm serious!” You hissed out picking up speed. “If Jill or Dewey or Gale or Judy sees you with me, you idiot, we're both fucked. Go!” You grumbled as you nervously looked around.

He sighed heavily. “Fine. Have it your way.” And to your immense relief he walked away. You let out a sigh of relief and kept walking away. You'd get Karla or a car to the nearest town or rent one or something.

You huffed to yourself trying to drag your suitcase too heavy to constantly carry across the sidewalk. You knew this was being stubborn but after so many have attacked you…How were you going to just be like ‘Oh yes! I am a suspect that was dropped from multiple cases and yes the internet thinks I did it and yep of course you random person can have directions to my secret location where I live!’

What fucking choices did you have?

You panted and took a break. Your infection is mostly gone but you were still weak, woozy and short of breath. You looked up seeing the street you were near and decided to take it.

Damn…What a blast from the past. Your mind tried remembering the houses and shrubs from late September to Early October 1996. Teens walking everywhere talking with backpacks. 90's fashion and older more reliable vehicles on the roads. You passed the streets that were familiar yet foreign now. And finally you got to an area where Billy had jumped out at you as a teen. The bushes there were gone now…You got to your old house and not a single bit of it was the same at all yet you recognized it. It was your home for only a little over a year but you still remembered walking through the front door, saying hi to your cat, getting on your house phone to talk to Sidney or Tatum, going upstairs to listen to cassettes and do homework…Damn…God what you wouldn't give for a time machine. And you asked yourself as you stared…Would you have let Gale kill Billy? Would you have let Sidney kill Stu or kill him yourself? A decade ago; fuck yes you would even with Stu visiting you. After their help this time…You weren't sure.

You saw people staring in their yards and forced yourself to keep walking. If they didn't know you from the massacre of '96 and Stab; they'd probably think you were a burglar staking out a place or a drifter or something. Your stitches still hurt but they were manageable. You still felt sick but it was like a mild belly ache and fatigue.

You should've never come back. Period. You should've never convinced Billy and Stu to return. You and Randy should've fled town that night instead of going to that party; let Kirby and Jill and all those teens that died anyways figure it out. Why the fuck did you always have to be the hero just to get tossed aside after? Like some service dog forced back outside once its job is done…You felt so defeated. What good did you do this time? Jill got away with it, Randy's dead, you have to lie to his family, Dewey can't stand to look at you, Gale is just a bitch as usual but you put your pride aside to give her the benefit of the doubt and look...And now, all you had was Billy and Stu. Unbelievable.

You got on the outskirts of town near the ‘Leaving Woodsboro Sign’ same as the one on the highway the opposite way and…Your handle on your suitcase broke with everything tumbling out as the zipper busted.

“Fuuucckkk…No, please no-” You groaned pitifully and you tried getting on your knees to put everything back. Hissing in pain at all your injuries and as you tried putting it back and it didn't fit and…And…

You just collapsed on the ground on your rear and couldn't hold back tears. What the fuck did you do to deserve this life? WHAT!? Just the wrong friend group as a teen? Being nice to two guys that didn't deserve that kindness? A stupid teen crush or two that went horribly wrong? Trying to do the right thing-

You quietly sobbed in your hands, shoulders heaving each tiny cry. You didn't care who saw. You didn't even care if Jill came up behind you and finished the job. Hell, Stu and Billy might. Even if you and Stu kissed; he had a fucked up logic and way about him. He'll even admit it.

Instead, you just sat there. Done crying after a few moments with your face in your arms propped on your knees, knees to your chest. Just shutting the world out. About to suck up your pride and shove caution to the wind and call Karla that; yes you passed her house on purpose but you couldn't do this alone...

You didn't know how long you sat there till you heard brakes squeaking, creeping to a halt in front of you. You sighed heavily and looked up seeing Billy and the van.

“You getting in or what? We don't have all day.” His even toned voice rang out.

You narrowed your eyes and looked away. “I'm fine.”

“Really? Cause you look like you're two seconds away from a mental breakdown.” He mumbled.

“I'll…I'll get Karla.” You gave quietly.

“Yeah, you could… And let her pester you the whole way on what you know about Meek Geeks Death or risk her life or something with that bitch on the loose…Get the fuck in here before someone sees, idiot.”

You stubbornly hesitated. But damn it, he was right. An hour ride with Karla would be filled with awkward guilt and ‘the talk’ of Randy because no matter how much you rehearsed it; she was upset and guilt ridden and just going over it like clockwork. You understood even if it was bad for you to keep explaining half truths and lies. You knew it. If the kids were there, it may buffer but…

Billy added, “You know we gotta talk anyways about all this. You owe us that.”

You glared. There it was. This ‘owing’ thing they constantly claimed. They act nice and there it was…But, what choices were there?

“...Fine.” You grumbled like you were 18 again and hauled your suitcase the best you could as Stu opened the sliding van door. You got in and closed your eyes leaning back in the seat. “Please…Just take me home. Same cabin as before.”

———————————

The whole ride was awkward silence but more comfortable than what it would've been with Karla's rehearsal of what happened to Randy.

Stu tried to make conversation every so often but you tiredly ignored them. Talking only to stop and order at a drive thru. You swore, Stu was bionic or on some DAMN good pain relievers as injured as he had been and he still leaned over Billy's driver seat saying, “Hey yo, gimme a number 5-”

You couldn't help it. You stifled a rueful smile at the enraged look on Billy's  mug at Stu just laying over him and his ass almost in his face. Billy raised his fist to hit it and Stu told him mid order, “Smacking a guy's ass is gay, man.”

Billy sneered at him and jerked him back to his seat by his shirt instead. Stu made some snide remark about pulling off clothes; Purposely moaning to make it gay just to embarrass his former partner in crime. You looked away rolling your lips to not smile. Yeah, you were wallowing but it felt like a necessary guarding of your mental health right now.

You ate your simple order, took your pills for the day, made small talk about how they treated you in the hospital when finally Billy just blurted out the elephant in the room.

“...What did Jill tell you?”

You sighed and told him as you all drove, “She was waiting on me when I woke up. Whispered to me what to say. We both described you as having dark hair, blue eyes and a hooked nose and Stu as reddish hair, tooth gap, dragon tattoo on the right shoulder.”

“Aw man.” Stu scoffed. “Now what if I wanted a dragon tattoo there?”

“Too bad.” You shrugged.

“Hmph.” He huffed, “You couldn't make me Asian and 5’8 or something?”

Billy rolled his eyes, “They saw us on Camera, douchenozzle.”

“Exactly. We had to make you guys close but not quite. Just enough to give you both time…We're lucky as fuck Jill was cornered somehow and was willing to cooperate.” You wanted to yell at them for making a risky choice for you that could've got you arrested or killed but held back.

“She try anything?” Stu asked suddenly with a more serious tone.

“Oooh sure.” You smirked wryly. “Unlucky for her, I was awake at night and Dewey had cops outside my door at all times.”

“Yeah, probably to make sure you didn't flee.” Billy mumbled.

You faltered and grew silent. A part of you really hoped it was protection...But...

“...Yeah…Yeah probably.” You quietly agreed. “Can we make a stop? I gotta pick up something.”

—————————————

It was the longest talk of your life you had to cut short with your family but their house was on the way to yours anyhow. They grilled you for not letting them know you were in the hospital or answering your phone right away once you were safe. You just used their safety as a half truth. You lied and said Billy was a friend taking you back and cut off questioning before they really dug in. Hugs, condolences on Randy, fear, them believing Jill's lies, anger at you, sadness but relief. You promised you loved them and you'd talk to them more. It was the type of love you give to family just because they're family but at this point any contact was better than absolutely zero options. And love was love even if it wasn't chosen.

And they did watch Cherri as your elderly Golden Retriever sat in the backseat while Stu tried loving on her, “Hheeyyyy, old lady, how's my favorite girl?...Hey…Cherri!…Hey, dog-” He snapped his fingers and she huffed and rolled over to ignore him. “Well fine, guess I'll see you from your 15th nap today, you old bitty.” He playfully grumbled in disappointment only remembering her at about 3 or 4 years old not 13 with cataracts and lighter aged fur. You smiled and petted her as she snored. Thank God for her.

“Think cops could be here?” Billy asked as he drove up the hill to your house way off the beaten path.

You shook your head and replied, “No. If they were gonna arrest me, they would've done it in Woodsboro or on the way here…Place might be staked out though. Like, Media in the woods.”

“Maybe I should take off my pants near the woods and give them a show?” Stu gave a sly smirk and you rolled your lips to not grin.

“They see plenty of twigs and berries out there.” Billy mumbled. “I think they'll ignore it.”

“Hey-” Stu scoffed, “Fuck you, man. I have a log down here, alright? They'd probably be overwhelmed by the sheer size of my manhood.”

“Manhood? The Hell is this? Some Erotic novel on your mom's bookshelf?” Billy huffed mockingly with a bewildered expression.

You shook your head in amusement as he drove up the mountainside to your secluded residency. A few neighbors but far and few in-between. Was it lonely? Yeah. But it was also peaceful. You learned a long time ago you'd rather be alone than be surrounded by people that make you feel alone.

“So…” Billy pulled up to your cabin. There was a weird silence among you. The curves, dense forest, your unchanged cabin are the only comforting sights these last few days. “...That's it?”

You nodded solemnly, taking a breath to reply. “Yeah…Yeah, it is.” You shakily sighed, “She won.”

“...YN, that's bullshit.” Billy uncomfortably mumbled.

“No, she did. She fucking won and that's that.” You scoffed with a humorless laugh. “She took everything from me. My best friend, my freedom, my life, my career, my sanity. How can any of it be the same now? No more Randy…Can't even see his kids without immense guilt.” You sniffed trying to keep yourself neutral as you looked down while talking. “Always gonna be looking over my shoulder, always scared I'll get a knock on my door from FBI or a news article of me being a suspect, can never go to Woodsboro or see Randy's family again even if I wanted to…My Grandma is buried there for fucksake and I can't even visit her grave. Not really.”

Stu frowned in the front seat and Billy looked at you with his mirror.

“I know I know. Preaching to the choir with your lives but you made a choice and…Oh fuck. So did I. Unlike you two, I just thought it was the right choice. It wasn't, obviously.” You wryly huffed with a smirk and wrung your shirts hem as you kept going, “The one person, Dewey...Okay, the one person who should have my back?…Told me to not come back and won't even talk to me. I understand why but…I did all this for him and Randy. If they weren't a thing? I would've left Woodsboro the second a murder was announced. And look-” You shrugged with a heavy sigh. “I fought for them and it kicked me in the ass, tossed me on the ground and spit on my face while I'm down there too. Jill destroyed everyone's lives, made everyone else comply, got treated like the victim, is gonna be set for life and the people that should believe me; don't…She won.” You quietly ended your rant with a shaky tone.

“Man, screw that and screw her.” Stu grumbled. “We'll get her.”

“You can't.” You firmly told him dabbing your eyes to not accidentally cry in front of them. “She's gonna be heavily guarded and prepared. Especially from you two…She won.”

“She didn't.” Stu firmly gave with a glare. “Okay, I refuse to be outsmarted by a teenage bitch like her!”

“Why? You guys were once-”

“Har Har, YN. Because we were teens…” Stu made a face and waved it off. “We're grown men now. Advanced. Okay, we have years under our belt compared to that prissy ass thing…We'll get her. She'll slip up and BAM-!” He smacked his hands then grimaced at his injuries.

Billy rolled his eyes, “Yeah well, count me out of it.”

“Seriously? Pussy.” Stu scoffed.

“Look, dickhead.” He growled out with his own glare at Stu. “For the first time in a long time; we may be off the hook. I'm not going to prison or death row because some little twat wanted to put on the mask. I'd LOVE to kill her and that entire fucking bloodline…But it's over.”

You stayed silent as they bickered before Stu huffed and fell back in his seat muttering cowardly diverted insults. You frowned and went to lug your suitcase out and despite your best efforts a bit of pain hit you where Jill cut you and your stuff fell all over the yard. You smacked your hands against your thighs and didn't see Stu giving Billy a look and Billy rolling his eyes as they both got out to help. Cherri groaned, getting her old joints moving and wagging her tail at being home.

Stu and Billy helped and you reluctantly mumbled, “Thanks…Can you?-” You gestured to the suitcase as you lightened it by holding some of your stuff.

“Yeah of course.“ Stu had replied carrying the mostly empty busted suitcase eagerly to your house.

You looked back at Billy, “You might as well come in.”

“Oh…” He had his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I don't think that's exactly great. Uh…Considering everything.”

“Well, can you at least bring my purse in?”

Billy rolled his eyes, “What am I, you're damn Butler?” He grumbled under his breath still walking like an old man with being cut horizontally over his abdomen and shot in his leg.

Cherri just moseyed around the yard with its fence as you all went inside.

“Jesus YN, do you ever want a change of scenery??” Billy mocked as everything was the exact same as it was in 2001.

You shrugged, “Hey, I've been busy the last few years. And no. I like my quaint home.”

Stu mumbled as he gingerly sat down the suitcase with a groan, “Who are you to talk? You had 80's paneling and shag carpeting in your trailer.”

“Oh fuck off.” Billy tossed your purse and started going to the door. “It housed your ass just fine-”

They both bickered as usual as you sat everything down and your heart sank seeing Sidney's locket but more so seeing your answering machine…You hesitantly clicked it and closed your eyes. Swallowing hard as Randy's voice played. “Hey YN, um I can't get ahold of your cell so maybe you're book signing or-”

You almost zoned out hearing his voice. Your eyes burned and watered and your lips trembled. Frowning to force yourself not to cry.

…Stu and Billy heard it and faltered their petty bickering back and forth. Billy steeled a neutral stare at your back while Stu looked a mix curious and concerned as your shoulders tensed and you looked down at Sidney's locket sitting on a pile of clothes. They both knew it was her's. “...That fucking cunt.” You gave low in your throat. They both looked surprised when you tossed it aside. “FUCK her!”

They looked confused thinking you meant Sidney until you ranted, “Jill Roberts. That bitch…That fucking-” Your hands were tight fist at your sides.

Stu looked more than understanding. Mildly glaring while Billy looked away.

You sucked in air and then finally said it, “...You're right, Stu. She's not getting away with this.” You shook your head and angrily started unpacking your things. “She isn't getting away with killing my friend and ruining my life! What life I had!” Jerking Sidney's locket from where it landed. It wasn't just a necklace yet it also didn't hold the weight it once did upon you.

Stu smirked, “Hell yeah.” He softly agreed at your declaration.

“Tsk. Yeah well-” Billy went to leave. “Good luck with that.”

“Wait.”

Billy stopped and raised a brow. Curiosity got the better of him as you swallowed and tried to find the words. Your pride and past regret and hurt and anger warring with each other. But right now, justified rage and contempt for the latest Ghostface won out.

“...I need you. I need both of you.” You forced out.

“Yeah yeah, we're your body guards or killers depending-”

“No!” You cut Billy's cynicism off. “No, I need you and you need me. We all 3 need each other. Now more than ever.”

Stu's eyes widened. “...What are you saying?”

You sucked in a breath. After all this? Priorities changed. Now that you weren't in Woodsboro or under threat. Now that it was settling in. Now that you heard Randy's voice knowing it was the last…Suddenly, Tatum and Sidney felt like distant memories. Suddenly, past wounds felt temporarily sealed with a good metaphorical bandaid. Now all the sudden, you had no one but them and the pros outweigh the cons.

“I am saying…” You paused a beat to ponder your next statement as bitter tears had ran down your cheeks, “That Jill doing this has us completely looped together now. Think about it. We gave vague descriptions but they could still match up. They could find your fingerprints at the crime scene. Your blood. Your hair or clothing fibers. I bought you both time; not safety. And me? I'll never be safe. Jill is coming for me one day; she made that pretty fucking clear.”

“So?” Billy shrugged and tried looking aloof but you knew better. Could see it in the way he didn't look at you. “We'll go into hiding and deal with it when the time comes. Like we always have.”

“Yeah…” You shook your head. “But I don't want to. I almost died. Once from being gutted and again from sepsis. I laid on that kitchen floor in my own blood holding onto you thinking that was it.”

Stu frowned but said nothing and Billy glared at the floor.

You continued, “Why? Why are we living far away in hiding and trying to get ahold of each other halfway through the murders when it's pretty much too late? These fucking Ghostface are not going to stop.”

Billy huffed and smirked wryly, “Cause of us right?-”

“We're past that.” You sternly cut him off. A fire in you that you hadn't had in a long time.

He looked with widened eyes at you. It was no secret you usually blamed them and yes, they did horrible things and started all of this. But right now? Jill took the whole damn cake.

“Jill made an enemy of all of us. She heavily injured us, got your faces on camera, got your DNA at the crime scene, may know your van now, made me as much of an outlaw as you two as far as ever even attempting to relax or have normalcy!…" You ranted with pure emotion. "And she ruined my friendship and killed the other. Fuck that bitch. She's gonna pay.”

Adrenaline pumping just thinking about what you wanted to do to her. Thinking back to the last Ghostface that tried you after tragedy. How you stabbed that wannabe star so many times it shocked everyone; even you.

“God you're even hotter now.” Stu mumbled in awe. Zero filter.

Billy rolled his eyes and pinched his nose bridge. “So what? You want us to be…What!? Fucking cool with each other or something-”

“I want that bitch dead, Billy.”

Billy's eyes widened a fraction more and his mouth parted while Stu grinned in wide eyed excitement.

You continued and held your stare, “She'll fuck up. One day, she is going to fuck up. Majorly. She'll get paranoid that we're after her or she'll get paranoid I'll talk. Or maybe she'll just get bored and crave that itch again because NO ONE kills their entire friend group and first boyfriend and their own mother just for ambition. She loves the hunt, she loves the kill, she'll get cocky…And when she does? I want to hang her and have her bleeding out of a fucking tree.”

“Fuucckk, I'm so hard right now.” Stu groaned loud enough to interrupt your train of thought.

You blinked, your anger momentarily halted by…Whatever that interruption was as Stu grinned like a kid in a candy store at you. He came towards you, “Sweetcheeks…Baby…You might as well be proposing to me. I am down. So, so down. I say we hunt her and-”

You put up a hand, “No." You halted his train of thought. "Not right now, anyways. Too much publicity.” You looked at him then Billy. “What I am saying is…We all need to stay in contact. We need to stick together even just texting…We just can't separate and let her one day pick us off. It's not enough to keep our promise to get any Ghostface's after Neil and Roman. She's got too good of a handle on this and we are fucking prey. You two are prey now just as much as Neil made all 3 of us sitting ducks back then. Only this time, there is no definitive answer.”

Stu grinned even wider, “You mean…Like, calling? Texting? Hanging out?”

You faltered…Was that what you were saying? Not exactly but…In a way…

“Okay, this has been a real fun time.” Billy waved you both off. “And by fun I mean pain in the ass. But if you two think I'm being chummy? You're both nuts! I have tried to kill you both plenty of times and after Stu punched me and you have been avoiding my kill list for years; I want to stab your faces more.” He mockingly smirked. “So fuck you both. Don't call me unless a new threat happens DIRECTLY to me-” He grunted and fell on his ass as a wet Golden Retriever barreled him over in the doorway. Rain pouring outside and just getting so much so that it was a white out.

He groaned in pain at his injuries as he fell and Cherri to add insult to injury shook off water on him, “You stupid mutt-” He grumbled going to shove her away as she left; old and oblivious to him.

Stu just stood there snickering while you went to help him up. He didn't accept your hand at first but had to when he hissed in pain through his teeth.

“Sorry. She's very demanding in her older years.” You sheepishly gave.

“Rain. What is it with rain whenever I'm near you??” He grumbled clutching his still bandaged stomach.

You shrugged, “It's almost winter. And we're elevated land. We get a lot of rain.”

“Maybe God cries every time he sees your face?” Stu mumbled in mock innocence.

Billy whipped his head to glare and you gave Stu a look but thankfully he groaned and led Cherri to the bathroom to towel dry her. Everything the same as the last time he was here. Well, mostly.

“...You might as well stay. You can't drive in this.” You offered softly.

He sided eyed you, “What is wrong with you? Why are you being nice, huh? I killed your friends, your Highschool Sweetheart, I tried to kill you multiple times and still plan to.”

Why indeed. Were you suicidal still? Maybe. Were you desperate? For sure. Were you lonely?...Regrettably, yes.

You breathed through your nose as you pondered, “...The enemy of my enemy is my ally. Or however that goes. You have no one-” He huffed in offense but you cut him off before he argued and repeated. “I have no one. Stu, well I actually don't know what the Hell Stu has. But all 3 of us are wanted or could be and our lives lie in the hands of a psychotic narcissistic teenager.”

“...Hmph.” He huffed and looked out the open door at the rain pouring off your enclosed porch.

“Huh. Maybe life does work out? Wanted you to stay a while.” You mused.

“Don't start getting philosophical with me, you freak.” Billy grumbled with no real heat in his words.

“...This might fill up my pond.”

He raised a brow. “You have a pond? Where?”

A sly smile crept upon your face as you gestured him to follow you. He looked puzzled but shut the front door and walked with you to the back of the house. You opened the secured back door to show him…True to your word; a man sized open grave like hole right there in the yard.

“It's half filled with water now. Might be kinda gross to bury you in it if you act up.”

You expected anger, mockery, defensiveness…Instead, Billy gave a low rumbling chuckle that eased to a soft laugh. “Yeah right. Keep dreaming, bitch. I'd use it for your body instead but I like to display my corpses.”

He walked away and you smirked slightly. A hint of camaraderie between you both that seemed inevitable considering the circumstances. You shut and locked up the backdoor to see Billy groan and reluctantly take the recliner while it rained.

Stu came out, “Umm…That is my chair. It was my claim a decade ago.”

Billy shrugged, took the remote. “Oh was it? Awww…”

He reluctantly grumbled and took the couch. Trying to get Cherri to sit with him when she kept staring at Billy. Billy huffed out, “YN, what does your ugly ass dog want?”

You couldn't help but chuckle at a rumbling groan of displeasure from your dog as she stared at Billy.

“You're both wrong. YOU are in her seat.” You called as you made coffee.

“Too bad, mutt.” He replied and faltered at her resting her face on the arm and looking sad.

Stu awwed, “Awww...Give her the chair, asshole! She's probably got minutes to live. She's like a corpse now.”

“No, I am not!” He smacked the arm in frustration and she took it as an invitation to just crawl up and make herself at home. “Ack! Fuck, watch the stitches you damn-” He growled out with a grimace as her big body laid on him.

Stu huffed, “You don't want his smelly lap! C'mon. C'mon girl-” He whistled and she just tried sleeping on Billy. “Traitor.”

Billy sighed with a glare. “You can have her; as soon as this rain lets up I'm out of here. You coming with me or what?”

“Undecided.” He gave a sly smirk as he eyed you up and down. Indulging in his new appreciation rekindled as you moved around the kitchen.

You came back with coffee for each of them. You knew you were being too nice and hospitable to literal killers but…What else was there? It was obvious even if things weren't ‘good’, they were not the enemy now. Or at least, not the immediate threat they once were.

You sighed, “Listen, I don't care how long you stay. We need to discuss how we're going to handle Jill. When? How? What signs?” You mumbled as you sat in the other chair.

Stu grimaced, “Ugh, babe. You know I take sugar in my coffee.”

“Now, how would I know that?” You deadpanned and gestured to the kitchen. “Cabinet on the right.” As he got up slowly with his injuries and hobbled to the kitchen. None of you were in any shape to fight or kill each other; let alone Ghostface's.

You and Billy talked amongst yourselves as Stu rummaged. He was sneaking, he just couldn't let you know. Curious about guys in your life, your personal life, all while ‘trying to find the spoons’. He was a controlling, possessive, demanding guy and if he had to kill competition then he would.

Then…He found a knick knack sort of catch all drawer…

He went to shut it but something caught his gaze. His blue eyes sparkled in wonder, softening at what he saw.

A necklace he had worn all the time. He lost it back in the day while visiting here. You most likely found under or behind something…And the note he wrote you with his number was A

all wrinkled and worn but still there.

You didn't forget him. A rare warmth bloomed in his chest at that. That maybe, just maybe, he really wasn't a last resort...

He chuckled a bit and with a coy rare little smile, gently put the note back where it came from. Acting like he saw nothing as he stirred sugar in his coffee.

This was…Going to be an interesting turn of events.

————————————

One Year Later…

“Hey! It's Jill Roberts!” Some guy called out and ran up to her, “Holy shit, can I like get a selfie or?-”

“Yeah, of course.” Jill forced the smile and that sweet act for the public her first day at Uni. She did a kissy face as he snapped a picture of them and rambled to her; asking for her socials and she declined.

It wasn't anything for guys to ask if she had been sexually assaulted or if being stabbed turned her on. She was attractive in a world of dehumanizing horny teen boys. She also got plenty of jealousy from girls. She just ignored it mostly.

She hated going to University but she was pressured in Interviews and she couldn't say ‘Take the money you idiots give me and spend it on a birkin.’ No, she had to say ‘I want to go to University and study something to help others!’ She settled on Medical for now. She just kept telling herself she could drop out in a year or two once the hype died down then work on a book deal…Hmm…Maybe if it gets too stale; another Ghostface killing spree she ‘narrowly’ escape could boost her relevance again?

On her laptop, all she did was scroll past a few nosey people saying she did it and on her phone she got prank calls constantly but she had to answer to make sure it wasn't an important person wanting her.  Despite it all, she smirked as she walked. They were talking about a documentary about her. Best of all? YN has gone MIA. No one has seen or heard from her...Good.

She walked and paused hearing someone calling for her. “I'm not into autographs or sharing details. Sorry.”

“Jill, it's me.”

…She froze hearing the familiar female voice. Of all the people…She heard news Kirby lived about a month after everything but Jill distanced herself on purpose. She turned around with a fake smile, “Hheeyy!”

Kirby smiled and they both awkwardly hugged. Kirby had a longer pixie cut, “Um how are you? I called you and you never really got back with me a few months ago.” She lowered her voice, “Jill you're my best friend and we almost died, I mean…Shouldn't we stay in contact?”

That Dipshit Charlie... He couldn't do one job.

Jill forced a smile while her eyes looked nervous, “Yeah I'm reaaalllyy sorry about that. Life has been…”

“Yeah.” Kirby agreed and nodded. “What major? I'm going into Criminal Justice with a few Sciences under my belt. Maybe some Sociology.”

Jill gave a tight lipped look, “Uh Medical. Nursing.” She vaguely gave.

“Really? Wow, man. I just…Never considered you into that, I mean, you were always as obsessed with horror as me and after what happened...”

“I need stability.” Jill saved with a sharp tone but forced herself to soften it. “You know, after everything.”

“No, I get that. I might epically fail Crime stopping anyways.” She gave a self deprecated joke as they both forced a chuckle. “Actually…I really wanna talk with you. You know about everything.”

Fuck.

“Yeahh.” Jill forced out with a too big of a smile, “Yeah, absolutely. We'll just fit our schedule.”

“Cool. The stab wound is healed ya know, if you're wondering.” Kirby mused almost passive aggressively at Jill not even asking.

She had to get her shit together. She couldn't let a year of planning and careful narratives be washed away- “Sorry, sorry. I suck.”

“Yeah you do.” Kirby smirked. “Coffee?”

“Uh, not right now. Sorry. Just trying to settle in.” Jill grimaced slightly as Kirby grabbed her phone.

“Welp, you leave me no choice. Here's my number. Call me or I'll hunt your ass down and call you.” She chuckled before handing the phone back. “I'm glad you're alright, Jill.”

“Yeah. You…Too.”

Jill watched Kirby leave and her smile dropped. No, Kirby didn't see the kitchen. She got stabbed outside by Charlie but…If she brought up that viral dark web video most sites took down every few weeks just for someone to inevitably upload it again of Olivia's murder…

Her only hope was to say Charlie had to have planted it in her room and admit to any affair and…DAMN IT!

Her hand tightened on her bag. This stupid paranoia never went away. It was all YN's fucking fault. That and those two. And Gale…She might hate Gale most of all, the ex journalist still snooping.

She had a paper thrown at her while walking and she scoffed, “Okay, asshole. Who threw that?” She announced but everyone kept walking, spared a glance but ignored.

She grumbled and picked it up. The note reading, ‘I know what you did-’

She tore it up, not even reading the rest. “Real fucking original.” She grumbled as she tore it up and tossed it like confetti…Not even knowing who sent it…Who threw it…

Or the person watching her from across the Courtyard.

[chibi76321]

For a JayVik WIP! (Season 2-Ep7 Spoilers)

Chapter 1

Jayce was clinging onto life for what felt like years. He had been stuck deep in that hole for days on end, weeks, months. And yet, it felt like an eternity. It had all been too much for him to handle. The broken leg, the weak body, the raw newt he was forced to eat..it had been pure torture. No one should ever have to experience what he went through. He wouldn't wish that upon anyone.

Jayce went through so much to get here. Now, he was face-to-face with the mage he'd thought about for so many years. The man that helped him through hard times and inspired him to mess with the Arcane, the worst decision he's ever made. But now, knowing this man's true identity, knowing what this world could become through the dark magic he's faced, he has found understanding in what he must do.

Jayce's large hands wrapped around the hex-corrupted hammer that has been here for so long. He pulled it from the hollowed body's grasp, looking to the older version of Viktor. He gave a smile of thanks before he was surrounded with a blue aura of magic. The mage began to swirl his staff around. Jayce closed his eyes, soaking in this power that he recognized from so long ago. He felt like he was being transported. Soon enough, he could have his reality—the world he'd been so far from for what felt like so long. The place where he could put an end to all the bloodshed and make peace in Piltover. The place where he could stop Viktor from messing up this world more than he has. Where he could fulfill his promise to his best friend and finally destroy the Hexcore as he was always meant to do.

Slowly, he felt like he was floating on air. Once his feet were planted firmly on the ground again, Jayce opened his eyes. It took a minute for him to get used to the light that poured through the windows. He'd been stuck in a storm for so long that any sort of brightness was almost unfamiliar to him.

He took a moment to take in his surroundings. Everything was a little blurry, but it looked like he was in the lab. As everything got clearer, Jayce realized he was in the lab. He hasn't been here in a good while. Last time he came here was with Ekko and Heimerdinger..but everything was out of place now.

He turned his head to the center of the room. The membrane that Viktor had been stuck in for so many days was gone. He never moved it. He turned to the work stations, noticing their cleanliness. He left it a mess before he left.

And before Jayce could even imagine this getting any weirder, he saw his partner. There was no way that was him. But..how could it not be? The ruffled brown locks, the academy uniform, the crutch that he made for him..it was all Viktor's.

He had no words. He kind of just stared blankly in the direction of his partner, questioning how the hell Viktor was here..and younger. This was a couple years..maybe months ago. He really couldn't tell. Everything went to shit only a couple months before Jayce entered the rune. Still though, it felt like it all went down so long ago. Viktor using Shimmer, him leaving, everything with the Hexcore..it was a lot.

Should he talk to him? Should he wait to be noticed? He didn't even know if he could move. All of this was so shocking and it was sudden. He was expecting to be somewhere else back home, not here.

Turning around, the younger version of Viktor pulled his goggles off after working on some gadgets. At first, he didn't seem to notice Jayce. At least, he didn't see his appearance, but clearly sensed his presence. He sighed.

"Honestly, Jayce," He gave a huff. "How many more times am I to remind you? Those councilors do not care for the people of the Undercity. They care about Piltover. It's their own little world to take care of, not Zau–.." He paused mid-sentence.

Jayce stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, large hand holding onto the hammer that was mostly just resting on the floor in his loose grip. He couldn't help but gaze at Viktor without a word. That accent..he forgot how much he missed hearing it. That sweet and gentle tone. The tongue that allowed his own name to roll from his mouth so perfectly. The care he took in making every word so clear, whether he was scolding him or simply explaining a project. Everything he did was so affectionate. He was always so full of love, but ever since he left Jayce alone in their lab, he no longer felt the warmth of his love.

Or maybe everything was just a dream. A long and terrible dream. Maybe this was a reality where all the pain and suffering never happened. One where he wasn't starving in a ravine for weeks, desperately trying to crawl his way out with a broken leg, eating raw salamander like it was candy.

Though, with the way Viktor was looking at him right now, so confused and speechless, it seemed this was not the reality he was hoping for. He had gone through anguish and it was clear this wasn't his Viktor. This wasn't the man he knew. He wasn't the man that had dreams for an evolution of humanity, a plan for Zaun and a plan to heal those poisoned by Shimmer.

Jayce managed to take a step, trying to remain hopeful, trying to think that maybe everything was back to normal. He tried to make himself believe this was truth. That the Viktor before him was the partner he knew and loved.

Still a WIP, so it's unpublished. The name will be; You Are My Dream.

[sheets-of-your-own]

DC (Batfam)

Rise of Cardinal

JustThatOneGirl1815

103,585 words

Long Recommendation

When Tim Drake was 17, he faked his own death. Three years later, a new guy has entered Gotham, with hacking skills that outmatch Oracle’s, a blade sharp enough to cut through bone, and a penchant for disappearing better than the Batman himself. And he’s making a mark on the villain population of Gotham. He leaves no evidence behind, nothing to mark himself by, only the remnants of his kill and a name: Cardinal

This fic is one that I saw and put off reading for a while, but once I finally did it- I loved it so much.

It's dark!Tim drake centric, which is one of my favourite types of fic. Lots of BAMF characters, not just Tim- though he is the focus.

Much of the fic is Tim operating as a villain/anti-hero and evading the bats, but throughout the fic you never get the feeling that the bats are stupid or bad vigilantes. A lot of fics accidently fall into that trap of making other characters worse to make one look better in comparison, but here everyone is clearly competent- Tim is just better

The ending is amazing, and I think I had 3 separate breakdowns from all the twists. I am so glad for being able to read this after it finished, I think if I had to wait through update times with all the cliff hangers I would have crashed lol

So so much angst and unreliable narration. Tim is very smart but even he is not immune to cult tactics and mind-fuckery. The double think, and Tim recognizing that but not really being able to fight it is so well written, you worry for him in every line.

Love the Ra's arc, I hate him as a character, but love fics with him in them, and the way he's written as this overseeing force watching Tim, but also having his own agenda is really well done.

The fic is graphic (in terms of violence, no smut) and it gets dark, but it's such a good fic!

[lucifermonsii]

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

part 1 Jet finally moves to a new task force after being a solo combat pilot after years of service. Upon meeting his new teammates one in particular caught his eye, a stoic, deadpan masked British man who seems to be interesting in nothing but be a brick wall.

"I'm going to what?" Says the pilot as he stared at his captain in disbelief, eyebrows furrowed as the information of him moving to a new task force, permanently without needing to help other ones registered in his mind. Was he really about to give up his solo life of assisting other teams in need and hopping from one to another just for some contract with a good deal and payment? Well, his captain would. The other day his captain was meeting with various of other ones from other task forces to find one that would peak his interest, that was until the well known bearded captain Price has met him. Through long conversations Jet's captain managed to get a pretty sweet deal from the older man that he couldn't turn down. "You're moving to another task force, permanently this time." He replies firmly, shoving the information into his pilot's head. Jet couldn't really imagine how life would be like to work with others instead of flying solo and being a lone wolf. He wasn't ready to let go of this lavish life style yet, having not to worry about others or disagreements, it was truly a life. But all things come to an end. He stared down at the contract paper in his hands that his captain had handed him, reading the terms and conditions and such. Task Force 141? Seems.. Promising. With a sigh he finally signs the contract and hands the paper back to his captain. "M' gonna miss you kid." The captain gruff as he looks down at the paper, the other male now no longer under his care. "You too." ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ The sound of blades slapping through the air fills their ears as the chopper descends on the heliport. Captain Price awaits the arrival of their new combat pilot as the other members stood beside him. Eventually the chopper landed safely and Jet hopped out with his black duffle back slung over his shoulder, wearing a black military jacket along with some sage green loose cargo pants and black combat boots. Winter was around the corner so at that time everyone was wearing a jacket. Small flakes of snow started to fall from the pure clouds above as Jet's captain followed suit behind him. "G'day hm Captain?" His captain greets Price as they shook hands firmly, exchanging a slight smile before letting go and sighing. Looking back at Jet who was standing beside him like some parent about to send their child to kindergarten for the first time. "G'day to you too Captain Red. Glad the weather isn't all too terrible" Price says as he gives him a slight chuckle, the creases of his eyes slightly wrinkles as Red huffs in return. "M' glad too.. Anyway, here's the soldier I've been telling you about, he's quite something so I suggest you start off slow.." Red musses as he gives a firm pat on Jet's shoulder. The masked male on the other hand inspects his new teammates through tired, half lidded eyes through his balaclava as they gazed around the faces he had to get used to. A few of them flashed him a slight smile— one of them being a mohawked Scottish along with another man who seems to be wearing a cap. The two seem friendly enough— unlike the one in a skull balaclava who seems to be eyeing the other male up and down through a hard gaze. "Looks better in person.. Well, let's go shall we?" Says Price as he leads them all inside of the base, Red and Price went away to another room to discuss further about Jet and his application as the others were inside a common room— having a little lets get to know each other session. ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"So, Jet is it lad?" The Scottish mohawk man perked up as he approaches Jet, clearly interested to get to know the male. "Mhm.. Yeah, who might you be?" He asks as he stares back at him through half lidded dark piercing eyes through his balaclava. "Call me Soap." He says as he took his hand out to shook the male's— to which jet shook firmly before glancing over at the other guy who seems to be watching, tilting his cap a bit forward as he introduces himself "Name's Gaz." "If you don't mind me asking— how was it like to be a solo soldier hopping from taskforce to taskforce?" He asks as he raises an eyebrow at Jet, clearly interested to know the answer as well as Soap. (maxed)

[goldsbitch]

Twelve Grapes

-chapter 7, part 2 - A bit of a bad boy

It's no coincidence Cruel Summer came out that year...

or - ✨ Austria 2019.✨

word count: reasonable warning: hard racing

Two entire races go by before he gets so much as a glance from Charles. In both of those, Charles ends up ahead of Max. It feels like getting personally kicked in the balls. Max plays the PR game the best to his abilities and self-control, but behind the scenes, it's a total mayhem. Anyone who questions him about anything receives a snapshot answer. He hands out sarcastic comments like Halloween candy. The only time he laughs is when he beats Daniel in their little video game nights.

The first week, Max loses all remaining inhibitions and keeps blasting Charles' phone up with calls and texts. Unhinged amount of advances, jokes and random questions. No reaction.

The second week, he goes radio silent and tries to get hold of Charles around the paddock. He never goes looking for other drivers after the race, especially when they get to stand on the podium and he doesn't. As always, restraint regarding Charles never comes as easily. However, the Monegasque is always two steps ahead of him.

Alas, finally, they end up next to each other in a post-qualifying media pen in Spielberg. Max is not subtle about trying to catch Charles' eye. For a brief moment, he does. It turns his stomach over immediately. Max searches Charles’ face like it holds an answer, some kind of hidden message buried beneath the surface, but there’s nothing. Not a flicker of hesitation, no softness, no ghost of the Charles he used to know. They used to share a look that would say it all. No trace of that now.

His expression is cool, unbothered, a perfect mask of professionalism. The same way he looks at a journalist asking a pointless question, or a sponsor he doesn’t particularly care about. Detached. Uninterested.

Max wants to do anything else than be swamped by useless questions now. Not when he's eating crumbs in the form of overhearing Charles' voice. He has to force himself to even look at the journalist standing in front of him, let alone take in what she has to say. Charles, on the other, does not seem to share this problem. His voice is passionate, excited and his words land like a punch in the face. Max can't see it, but since he'd studied Charles from every angle possible, to be able to picture his smile clearly, just based on the tone. It's the nonchalant, I'm-the-world's-sweetheart smile that always works on everyone. Max is secretly present on social media, he has seen the fan edits of his - well, not boyfriend apparently.

"Charles, you seem to be on a great run of form lately, have you and the team at Ferrari found good rhythm after the unfortunate Monaco Grand Prix?"

Max has heard many things on that topic from the restless Reb Bull strategists. All of them flaunting ideas and theories around, none of them realizing what Max knew. That the magic fuel Charles is running on is spite. He asks the journalist in front of him to repeat the question, while he focuses on Charles' answer.

"Ah, you know how it is...The start of the season has been challenging. Changing teams, new environment...All of this takes time to process. But, I am stronger than ever. I've cut away all unnecessary distractions keeping me from being locked in on the target and pulling me to the wrong direction. With the amazing team I have - I am finally recognizing myself in the mirror after few strange months."

Charles must know that he can hear every word coming out of his mouth. Max's blood boils and freezes at the same time. He doesn’t react. Giving away anything more seems like a direct pathway to hell.

He stands there, nodding absently to whatever the journalist in front of him is saying, his mind busy with reading in between the lines, Charles' words echoing through the media pen like a fucking death sentence.

Distraction. That’s all he's reduced him to. His heart beats like it's about to go to a fight. The realization settles in his stomach, cold and heavy. He tilts his head slightly, just enough to catch Charles in his peripheral vision.

He’s still talking, crafting the perfect story. His posture is easy, he's leaning closer to the reporter than one probably should, his voice is smooth and warm. It has the word likable written all over it.

It's hardly a surprise that the reporters eat up every single sentence he says, playing up to be the golden boy everyone wants him to be.

And maybe he is. Charles keeps getting better and better at this - playing the part, giving people what they want. He’s charming and sharp, smart enough to be a goddamn PR dream but ruthless enough to keep them all at arm’s length. Except he wasn’t like that with Max.

No. With Max, he was real. Unfiltered. Messy. The kind of Charles who picked fights just to feel something, who grabbed Max’s face like he couldn’t breathe without kissing him, who pressed his forehead against his in the middle of the night and whispered things he could never say in the daylight. The kind of person who acted on what his heart desired, instead of what reason demanded. That's not the Charles standing next to him.

Something inside Max cracks. It doesn’t come in a rush - it settles, careful and slow, a icy coldness spreading through his chest.

Fine.

If Charles wants to erase him, to pretend he was just a mistake, Max will make him remember. Not with words. Not with apologies or late-night texts, stupid fucking phone calls or dangerous public driving.

Tomorrow, on track - where it’s just the two of them, where he can't pretend or avoid him endlessly. Charles will feel exactly what happens when you try to push Max Verstappen away. If he wants to pretend Max was just a distraction, Max will remind him that distractions don’t just disappear into thin air.

"It's great to be on pole, but points are tomorrow. But of course, the idea of a first win is something you can't not get exited about," he hears the last part of yet another one of Charles' speeches and this time he smiles. Time to prove everyone wrong. Make the damn strategists happy for once again.

//

It's hell. Pure, unfiltered hell. Charles arrives in Maranello in a state of a complete breakdown. He was running on some sort of manic fuel the whole Monaco drive. All was somehow bearable - until Max stopped chasing behind him. The absence of his headlights in rear-view mirror worked like a bomb detonator. He is a crying, miserable mess the whole drive. One time he has to stop over, because his breath gets stuck in the lungs and it sets his head into a dizzy spin. He collapses onto his bed in the small Maranello safe house and spends the night fighting terrifying nightmares.

After losing the next day by being glued to his phone, waiting for Max to call for one more time, he decides he can't take that anymore. He missed his chances. Ran away, fucked up everything and tired Max out. He knows him - if he stopped calling, he stopped caring. Charles can't bare himself to get to be the one to make the desperate move, especially after he let so blatantly known that he's totally under Max's spell. He cried in front of him. Nearly begged - but who knows, the whole conversation is becoming a blur, like an old tape wearing thin from being rewound too many times, the sound glitching, words distorting until they barely make sense anymore. So, the first evening after the fight, he blocks Max's phone number. This way, he can still hope that he is trying to reach him and he does not have to stare the unbearable truth in the face. That Max does not, in fact, call anymore.

He completely drowns himself in work. His trainer has to remind him to eat, even though the thought of food makes him sick. He's floating around, allows the team to handle him about and keeps his focus on racing exclusively. Because, that is the only means of communication with Max he's got left. On track, nothing changed. They still cruise around each other, expertly read each other's moves and for once, it all works out in Charles' favor.

The irony of him finally getting a grip on racing when he feels like he'd rather jump under the car instead is not lost on him.

The first step into the paddock after their fight feels heavier than it should. No matter how much he tries to shake it, there’s still a glimmer of hope that he and Max can fix this. But hope, in all its twisted absurdity, only makes him avoid Max more. Because, if this is suppose to be the end, he wants prolong this uncertain period as much as he can. His own misery is becoming the only thing he has left from Max and if that is the truth, he will cling on it. It's him and Max. Any reminder of that is better than nothing.

Red Bull ring. Half of the grandstand is covered in eye-searing orange, the other in signature deep blue that keeps haunting him. They are all waiting for him to fail. He can't. If he has to suffer, because of his feeling towards the Dutch driver, so should everyone else. No matter how mellowed down their devotion to Max might be compared to his own.

It's scorching hot. As is should be in hell anyway. Charles is sitting in his car, front row providing a clear view to the task ahead. Beat Max on track. It's like he can't see any other of the remaining eighteen cars. Lights out and away we go. The all familiar noise of roaring engines makes his ears hurt. His reaction is perfect, almost divine. He launches forward, sliding through the first turn like a man possessed, and when he glances at his mirrors, Max is gone. Buried in the chaos behind him, swallowed by his own mistakes. A chuckle bubbles up in Charles’ throat, raw and breathless, nearly manic again. This is what he wants. Him being able to prove that he is sharper, better and faster when giving as similar chance as Max. Not only that. To himself, and in extension Max too, he needs to prove that he can exist without Max fucking Verstappen.

He flies away, leaving the rest of pack behind. It's only in lap two where he figures out that Max fell five places down. There is a momentary wave of sorrow, one intrusive idea about Charles wanting to be the only to beat him, regretting that other drivers are doing so too. But they're both on their own. Max would never share this sentiment towards him. Whatever Charles is doing must be working, because it looks like he got into Verstappen's head. He's slowly extending the lead, keeping Bottas in a safe distance, far enough no DRS.

Ten and few more laps later, he notices Max working way up the field quite effectively. He keeps calm, because with every car Max passes, Charles makes up a second on Bottas.

Max's got the fastest lap now. Charles is managing tires, bracing for the future. Pit stop - the one thing he truly fears - gone right. He's in a completely calm and periodic rhythm, none of the cars providing a real challenge. He prays to the gods of racing for no mechanical failure this time. Destiny owes his at least that. Give him the right tools, he won't ask for help when all it lies on is his own abilities. He's making his way through the traffic, lapping cars and occasionally looking behind his back at Verstappen fighting Bottas. And after few more laps of this routine - Max is the first car on his tail. Charles expected nothing less. He digs into everything he has - not only in him, but in the car as well. The whole race was just a prep for this moment. Barely four seconds. Max is faster, a fact his dearest fucking engineer feels the need to point out, as if he couldn’t see it himself. But quick math tells Charles he should survive this. 3,8. 3,6. For Charles, there really is no other car on the track than Max's. The others are just annoying little gravel stones, hitting his visor and robbing Charles of clean air. A half of a second is lost only by having to cruise between them. He tries his best to stay cool. One final wish goes towards his tires.

He gives it all. Five final laps and the gap is dangerously close to one second. He spends what feels like two years stuck between Pierre, who's suppose to let him through and Max who is closing in on him. Two Red Bulls. Please, Pierre. This is the first time Charles regrets not telling his friend about the love affair. He knows Pierre is instructed to make it as hard as possible for Charles to get through while keeping it all legal.

"Verstappen behind, one second."

"Leave me alone."

And then - it's on.

It's like he can feel Max breathing down his neck. The DRS is inevitable. Max is inevitable. Charles defends for his life. He forces him to have to go around the outside, off the racing line. Turn 4 is the Achilles heel and Charles survives the first time they pass it through.

But he knows Max. Understands the way he moves, instinct in perfect symphony with logic, calculating every weakness...No stone left untouched. Why should Charles be the exception. He remembers the way he looked at Charles the first time they kissed - half a dare, half a warning. It's the way he uses his touch - firm, yet gentle - to bend Charles into whatever shape he wants. 

On the next lap, Charles watches his mirrors, waits for the lunge. This time Max doesn’t go for the outside. No, this time, he comes from inside, slicing through the turn with an aggression Charles thought he was ready for. It’s all so quick, just like their fallout. 

The wheels are millimeters apart. Charles tries to force him wide, but Max refuses to back off. Of course he does. Max has never learned when to let go. Never knows when to stop taking.

And then, it comes again.

Max is right there, alongside him, closer this time, pushing, forcing. Charles grips the wheel tighter, body locked in, blood roaring in his ears. He doesn’t lift. He doesn’t yield. Max doesn’t either.

A nudge. A shove. Space shrinking into nothing. Everything slows.

He’s back at the Monaco apartment, late at night, Max’s voice low against his neck. “If I have to take a win from you, will you ever kiss me again?” Charles had laughed, breathless. “You already take everything from me.”

Charles barely registers the moment his tires leave the track, but he feels it. The smudge of gravel beneath him, the split-second loss of control, the sheer force of what Max has done.

Max’s fingers curled around his wrist in a hotel hallway, yanking him back to the room before they could be seen, grinning like it was a game. "You can’t get enough of me," Charles had scoffed. "Give me all you have, Charlie," Max hummed in between kisses.

The back of Max’s neck in the early morning, hair still damp from post sex shower, heartbeat steady under Charles’ hand. "Would you ever crash into me?" Max had asked once, drowsy, barely awake. Charles had said no. Max had never answered.

The car snaps back into control just before he spins. Charles feels it all in his arms, his whole body resisting the centrifugal pull. No. It takes him half a second to realize what just happened. The next half is spent knowing, with absolute certainty, that it wasn’t fucking legal. Max robbed him. They have to make him give the place back.  Charles grips the wheel so hard it might break, breath coming short and sharp. His visor feels suffocating, the heat pressing in from all sides. He should have known. Should have known Max would take everything.

He genuinely can't remember the rest of the race.

Just like that, it's over, he's getting out of the car and his own disbelief is preventing from believing any of this is real. His mind stayed back somewhere around Turn 4 and he's having something he thinks others describe as out of body experience. He understands there are words coming out of his mouth, but no one is in control of them. They roll of automatically and he's only aware that most of them are about the stewards having to have a look at the move.

He is painfully aware of the cameras in the cooldown room. That is the only thing grounding him and not flying into a shout festival with Max. The words he has reserved for this man are intended for him and his ears only. Survival mode kicks in and he tries to ignore him as much as he can.

He'd prefer getting punched instead of having to stand on this podium. Any attempt from people trying to congratulate is met with a face one does not forget. Max's smile is impossible to ignore, bright and shamelessly arrogant, the kind of grin that demands to be seen. Mercilessly cuts through like a knife.

Charles sees the way Max points at the Honda logo on his race suit, exaggerating the motion, playing up the moment. A distant memory flickers in. Charles remembers when Max came home one day, irritated after yet another Red Bull PR lecture about mentioning Honda at every possible opportunity. Max had rolled his eyes, complaining about contractual obligations, flapped himself on the couch and refused to talk. So, Charles came up with a game, with hopes of turning the mood around. Say it so much they beg you to stop. He still remembers Max’s mischievous smirk, the way they looked at each other every time he did that. Now? It feels like Max deliberately twisting the knife he shoved into Charles' guts. As if Charles isn't standing right there, watching it all, bleeding out behind a forced expression. Max took it all. No one would be mad or surprised if he hadn't won today. It means he did all of this on purpose. Inflict as much as he possibly can. Something he appears to be very good at.

Someone puts the dreaded Dutch anthem on and every note drags on and on.  Charles stares to the deep hills, avoiding the crowd below. His nails pressing so hard his racing suit he’s surprised there isn’t blood between his fingers. This is the sound he will die to. The tune that will crawl inside his skull, rot there, and play on an endless loop. If there’s a god waiting for him at the end of it all, this is what they'll hum as the gates get shut in his face.

Max is right there, right fucking there, barely an arm’s length away, standing taller, chest out, sweat still clinging to his skin like it’s something to be proud of. Charles doesn’t dare look at him. Doesn’t trust himself not to flinch, not to break. The heat between them is unbearable, suffocating, a reminder that not long ago, Max had pressed against him in a different way. The hand he now had to avoid from accidentally brushing against is the same one that used to grip Charles like he was something for Max to own.

He knows Max doesn’t even think about that. Not now. Not while he stands here, grinning like he was made for this moment, swimming in the praise from crowd that loves him, while Charles stands frozen beside him, barely holding himself together.

The anthem swells, the final few notes longing out like they’re mocking him, and Charles forces himself to swallow, forces the bile back down his throat. He knows it's over. Deep down inside, he stopped hoping for stewards standing by him.  Another mistake and he looks down the crowd. Roars of people suffocating him, stealing the air directly from his lungs and among all of those, one face stands out. Everyone is looking at Max, apart from this person, who's unmistakable smirk reminds him so scarily of the smirk he used to love. Jos Vestappen is unashamedly staring down at him, even though he's several meters below him. For the first time, he sees the resemblance between Max and his father.

He calls himself stupid about fifty times. The door for Max would not have opened if he hadn’t allowed it. He got burned once. It can’t happen again. Things have to change. He has to change.  The champagne tastes like a spoilt milk, Charles does everything in his power to get out of the podium stand as quickly as possible. He will go on to the stewards with his team, even though he knows the battle is lost. If there is one thing he is grateful for, it's the crying Honda spokesman, that wiggles in between him and Max for the final photo. Charles is spared of the final blow - feeling Max's cruel hands on his back again.

//

The come down of emotions is quick. He did it. Snatched Charles' first victory right from his hands. Celebrated so loudly, encircled Charles so efficiently he was sure he must be getting claustrophobic. Killer instinct called upon him and he gave in completely. Charles can't rely on ignoring him. He won't go away without a fight, without destroying him. Max is hardly a sappy dreamer, but all of today feels like it was written long time ago and he was just following the script. Charles is sitting by his right side during the press conference - exactly where he belongs. There is an evil joy Max feels from having him so close during his first win of this season. Charles has no choice but to endure every second of it. Weeks of silence, of trying to erase Max from his life, and yet, here they are. No matter how hard he tries, he can't escape him.

The questions roll in. "How does this win compare to the ones he's had before?" Oh, he has many words he can't say out loud. The reported receives some basic technical summary, but what he really wants to say - scream, shout to the world - is that this win feels sweeter than any candy, he's reclaiming his strenght back and Charles can try as much as he can, but Max proved today that he won't back down.

"When did you start to think the win was possible today?" Easy. Once the door shut behind Charles when he ran away. When his smug smile started to haunt Max in every waking moment. When he heard the words, his former lover, calling him a mere distraction.

Next question is aimed at Charles. General, basic, nothing out of the order. He steals one glance. A thunder of a feeling he can't name properly shoots through him. His bloodshot eyes, purple lips and hands with practically no nails left on them scream the truth louder than anything else. It's the moment Charles finally speaks, his words rolling out of his tongue when Max's heart stops. It is probably unrecognizable for the crowd of journalist in front of them, but he knows this tone. It's the utterly broken one. His words make sense, it's composed and measured, but the accent creeps in and gives away all. Just like it did whenever Charles felt unsure about their love affair. His voice is soft, too soft for a post-race fatigue. Max has to put his head down, to hide behind his cap for a moment. He hears Charles gulp and surprisingly it's that what breaks Max. Numbness descends over him. Next question is aimed at Valtteri and for once, he's glad.

Max sinks in. He tries to stop the guilt from drowning him. For once, this is a battle he can't win. The darkest worry Max always had about himself is that he it too ruthless. Can't see the line until he's way past by. Cruel, calculating monster, that will destroy anything or anyone standing in his way. Suddenly, he find himself regretting it all. His move was over the top, but he can't admit that now. This wasn't racing anymore, this personal vendetta, childish anger spree, because Max can't have what he truly wants. Maybe it's sadly better this way. By forcing Charles to hating him, he will make sure he stays far away from him. Max knows he'd crumble apart, had Charles given him any inclination that he wants him back. That man could probably ask for anything and he'd give it to him. Max is not strong enough to resist Charles. He's also just proven how much of a selfish dick he can be when things don't go this way. The reality of him coming to the conclusion, that Charles hating him instead of loving him might be safer and better option for the Ferrari driver is a hard pill to swallow. Max had spent years perfecting the art of fighting for every inch, of clawing his way to the top no matter the cost. And now, sitting here, drowning in his own victory, he wonders if the cost this time was too high. Max knows his actions today bought him all the time in the world to wallow around this idea. Because, it's obvious Charles can't stand him anymore. He finally sees Max for what he is. His father's son.

Another question, particularly snarky one comes at him and Charles together and something inside Max takes over. He's saying words, explaining the nature of his specific overtake and it takes him everything he has to prevent his voice from shaking. He ends up defending himself again, but the doubts flood his consciousness. Charles finally throws in a sarcastic comment, calling the move illegal, and something ugly inside Max likes it. If Charles has to hate him, let it be like this - spiteful, angry, not distant and indifferent. At least anger means he still cares, even if it’s in the worst way possible.

He will forever admire Charles for being able to sit through this, so strong and still.

We never gave up, he hears himself saying. His only hope is that Charles won't give up too.

"Charles, do you feel like this one has been stolen from you?" Yes. Obviously. Once again, Max questions the sanity of everyone in the room. Another punchy note about the legality of the overtake and Max revels in it.

"Will you stop being the polite driver you are?" Is this the first time people watched Charles racing? A polite driver? The menace that would rather have them crash into the barrier than get overtaken? The driver Max had to pull out his dirtiest trick only to get a chance on getting in front of him?

"On track I'm a bit of a different person than in the car." Max has never disagreed with something more in his life.

------- @chezmardybum @biancathecool