#i have crossed the horizon to find you. i know your name. and they have stolen the heart from inside you. but this does not define you.

[onebadassunicorn]

The Spy Who Loved Me

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: none really, just some kissing.

word count: 5.9K

Taglist: @motheroffae

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Chapter 1

********

Chapter 2

The Summer Court’s palace shimmered like a mirage against the sapphire sea, its golden spires reflecting the sunlight as waves lapped gently at the white sand below. It was a picture of peace and prosperity, but you knew better than to be lulled by its serene beauty.

Beneath its calm surface, the court was as rife with politics and subterfuge as any other.

You stepped into Tarquin’s private council chamber, where the High Lord awaited you. The room was filled with the scent of salt and sun, the light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sparkling sea. Tarquin stood by the window, his arms crossed over his chest, his turquoise eyes scanning the horizon. He turned as you entered, his expression calm but sharp, his gaze immediately locking onto you.

“You’re back,” he said simply, his voice rich with curiosity and authority.

You inclined your head, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind you. “I am. The ball went as expected—perhaps better.”

Tarquin gestured for you to sit at the table in the center of the room, and you took your seat as he lowered himself into the chair opposite you. His focus never wavered, his sharp mind already piecing together the weight of your expression and the tone of your voice.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

You recounted the events of the Autumn Court’s masquerade in meticulous detail. The atmosphere, the key players, the whispers you overheard. When you reached the part about Eris Vanserra, Tarquin leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued.

“He noticed me immediately,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “It took little effort to draw his attention. He was… enchanted, or at least pretended to be. We danced several times, and he invited me to walk with him in the gardens.”

Tarquin’s brow furrowed, though not in disapproval. “And?”

“I kept to the persona we crafted,” you assured him. “Kaela, from a lesser court with ties to the Summer Court. I dropped your name subtly, as planned. He seemed intrigued but didn’t press too hard. If anything, he seemed more interested in my… presence.”

Your words trailed off, and Tarquin’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Eris is well-known for being easily swayed by beauty, especially when it serves his ambitions. I take it he was quite forward?”

You nodded. “He kissed me before we returned to the ballroom.”

Tarquin leaned back, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed the information. Finally, he spoke, his tone measured. “It’s a good start. If Eris is already that taken with you, it will make the next steps easier. But you must tread carefully. Eris may seem infatuated, but he’s as cunning as his father. He’ll test you, and if he finds even a hint of deception, he won’t hesitate to turn on you.”

“I understand,” you said firmly. “What do you want me to do next?”

Tarquin’s gaze hardened slightly, the weight of his responsibility evident in his expression. “We need to confirm what Beron is planning. The rumors of an uprising have reached too many ears to be mere speculation. If Beron is aligning himself with outside forces—Hybern sympathizers, rogue courts, or even traitors within the High Lords—then we need to know. Eris is your way in. He’s ambitious, yes, but he’s also desperate to prove himself superior to his father. Use that.”

You nodded, already anticipating the intricacies of what would come next. “The Autumnal Equinox is in a week. Eris will expect me to be there.”

“Good.” Tarquin’s voice softened slightly, though his resolve remained unshaken. “Keep the ruse intact. Push for more, but don’t overplay your hand. Beron is ruthless, and if he so much as suspects you’re working against him, no alliance with me will save you.”

His warning was clear, but there was also trust in his gaze. He had chosen you for this mission because he believed in your skill, in your ability to navigate the perilous waters of Autumn’s politics. You had spent years honing your craft in the shadows of the Summer Court, learning to become whoever the situation demanded.

This was no different.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“There’s one more thing,” you said carefully, hesitating for the first time. “Someone else was there. From the Night Court.”

Tarquin’s brows furrowed, a shadow of concern crossing his face. “Who?”

“Their spymaster,” you replied. “Azriel.”

Tarquin’s reaction was subtle, but his eyes darkened. “What did he want?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “He danced with me, asked who I was, and seemed… suspicious. He watched me the entire night, even when I was with Eris. He’s perceptive, Tarquin. If anyone can sense something is amiss, it’s him.”

Tarquin’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. “That complicates things. The Night Court has no love for Beron, but Azriel’s presence suggests they’re watching Autumn closely. If he suspects you, he may try to intervene—and that could ruin everything.”

“I’ll be careful,” you promised. “I don’t think he trusts me, but he has no proof of who I really am.”

Tarquin studied you for a moment, his gaze weighing something unspoken. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. Continue with the mission. But be wary of Azriel. The spymaster is not someone to underestimate. If he’s watching you, then he’s already planning his next move.”

“I understand.”

As you rose to leave, Tarquin’s voice stopped you. “One more thing,” he said. “I trust you to see this through, but remember: your safety is not worth the secrets we seek. If it becomes too dangerous, pull out. Do you hear me?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I hear you.”

But as you left the chamber and stepped out into the sunlit halls of the Summer Court, the weight of the mission settled heavily on your shoulders.

You couldn’t afford to fail—not for Tarquin, not for the Summer Court, and not for yourself.

The stakes were rising, and the lines between loyalty and deception were beginning to blur.

********

The Autumn Court was alight with the golden hues of the equinox, a celebration of harvest and fire, of the season’s fleeting beauty before the long, cold descent of winter. The festival sprawled across Beron’s grand estate, spilling from the opulent halls into the sprawling courtyards and gardens, where lanterns cast flickering shadows across the leaves.

This time, you wore no mask.

Your gown was a masterpiece of autumn’s essence, crafted from silken fabrics in shades of burnt orange, deep crimson, and gold that shimmered like fire when you moved. The neckline framed your collarbones elegantly, and your honey-colored eyes gleamed with intelligence and quiet determination as you stepped into the festivities. Your dark hair was loosely braided, intertwined with strands of gold and tiny jeweled leaves, as though autumn itself had claimed you as its muse.

The court was alive with music and laughter, the scent of spiced cider and roasted meats wafting through the air. Long tables groaned beneath the weight of seasonal delicacies: golden pastries, rich stews, glistening fruits, and warm breads. Dancers swirled in the courtyard to the lively hum of fiddles and drums, their movements as wild and untamed as the season they celebrated.

You moved through the crowd with effortless grace, your every step drawing attention. Males turned to look as you passed, their gazes lingering too long on the sway of your hips, the way the lanterns caught the fire of your gown. You felt their stares, their whispered words, but you paid them no mind.

You were used to this by now—attention was a tool, and tonight, it was one you wielded with precision.

Eris, as always, was pleased by the effect you had on others. He stood near the main table, clad in deep red and gold, his fiery hair catching the light. His amber eyes followed your every move, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he noticed the way other males watched you.

He liked that they wanted you.

He liked it even more that you remained by his side when he summoned you.

But tonight, someone else was watching you, too.

Azriel stood at the edge of the festivities, his form cloaked in the shadows that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. He wore no mask either, and his Illyrian leathers had been traded for a simple, elegant black jacket that made him look no less dangerous. His hazel eyes—keen, sharp, and piercing—followed you as you moved through the crowd, his jaw tightening each time another male drew too close.

He had come for answers, but the sight of you, unmasked and radiant, had unraveled something inside him.

Before you could make your way to Eris, Azriel stepped from the shadows and intercepted you, his approach silent but purposeful. His voice was soft but firm as he spoke, “You’re hard to miss tonight.”

You turned, startled at first, but you quickly schooled your expression.

Seeing him without his mask was a shock.

The stories hadn’t done him justice—Azriel was devastatingly handsome, his features sharp and angular, his scarred hands folded behind his back. But his eyes, those hazel eyes flecked with gold, burned with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Shadowsinger,” you greeted, your tone calm, though your heart raced beneath your ribs.

“Azriel,” he corrected, his gaze never leaving yours. “And you are?”

“No one of importance,” you replied, the familiar words slipping easily from your lips.

Azriel’s mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You said that before. I don’t believe it now any more than I did then.”

You raised a brow, your gaze steady. “And what brings the spymaster of the Night Court to an Autumnal Equinox festival?”

“The same thing that brings you, I imagine,” he replied, his voice low. “Curiosity.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Curiosity about me? Or about the Autumn Court?”

“Both,” he admitted without hesitation.

There was something in his tone—something raw, honest, and entirely unexpected.

It unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

Before you could respond, Azriel gestured to the long tables laden with food. “Would you sit with me? I think we could both use a reprieve from… wandering eyes.”

You hesitated, glancing toward where Eris stood, still speaking with a group of nobles. For a moment, you considered refusing, but something in Azriel’s gaze stopped you.

He was looking at you not like you were a prize to be won, but like you were a puzzle he was determined to solve. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself nodding.

“Very well,” you said. “Lead the way.”

He guided you to a quieter corner of the courtyard, where the lanterns cast a softer glow. You both filled your plates with roasted meats, golden squash, and warm bread before sitting at a smaller table away from the chaos. The sounds of music and laughter faded slightly, leaving you in a pocket of relative quiet.

Azriel studied you as you ate, his gaze thoughtful but unrelenting. “You’re different tonight.”

“Am I?” you asked, keeping your tone light as you picked at the food on your plate.

“You aren’t hiding,” he said simply. “No mask. No pretense of blending in. You’re…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right word. “…bold.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “And what about you? I doubt the Night Court sent you here to enjoy the festivities.”

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips. “Perhaps I came for the food.”

“Liar,” you said softly, but there was no malice in your voice.

He leaned forward slightly, his expression serious. “I came because I couldn’t get you out of my head after the last time I saw you...And because I think you’re hiding something.”

You froze for half a heartbeat before forcing yourself to smile. “Aren’t we all?”

Azriel didn’t look convinced, but before he could press further, a familiar voice broke through the moment.

“Kaela.” Eris’s tone was smooth but edged with subtle irritation. He was standing a few feet away, his amber eyes flicking between you and Azriel with barely concealed disdain. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You rose gracefully, offering Azriel a polite nod before turning to Eris. “I was just… meeting new people.”

Eris smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Come. There’s much more to see.”

As Eris led you away, Azriel watched, his shadows curling tightly around him, restless and frustrated.

You didn’t look back, but you felt his gaze like a brand on your skin. You knew this wasn’t the last time he’d seek you out.

Eris seemed to swell with pride as he took your hand, guiding you through the heart of the Autumn Court’s festivities. The firelight gilded his crimson hair and sharp features, making him look every inch the heir to a throne of flame and power. His grip on your hand was firm, possessive, as though parading you through the crowd was as much about his status as it was about you.

You allowed him to lead, a delicate smile playing on your lips, your demeanor graceful and composed. Inside, you were calculating. Every introduction, every gaze that lingered on you, was a potential piece of the puzzle you were here to solve. Eris introduced you to noble after noble, his voice smooth and charming, but there was always a sharp edge to his tone—a warning to those who looked at you too long or spoke too boldly.

“And this,” Eris said, his hand tightening slightly on yours as he addressed an older male in an autumn-orange cloak, “is Kaela. A guest of the Autumn Court and… my most delightful companion this evening.”

The male’s eyes swept over you, appreciation flickering in their depths. “Delightful indeed,” he said, his voice rich with insinuation. “Tell me, my lady, how is it that the Autumn Court has been graced with such a beauty?”

You smiled politely, keeping your voice light. “It seems your court has a way of drawing people in, my lord.”

The older male chuckled, his gaze lingering on your face. “If only I were a younger man,” he said with a mock sigh. “Perhaps I’d have a chance to steal you away from Eris.”

Eris’s smile was tight, his amber eyes narrowing slightly. “Perhaps,” he said, his tone cold enough to make the noble falter. “But I doubt you’d get very far.”

The exchange was brief but effective, the older male bowing slightly before excusing himself. Eris’s hand remained firmly on yours as he guided you onward, his smirk returning as he leaned closer. “It seems everyone here is desperate for what they can’t have.”

You glanced at him, your tone carefully neutral. “And you enjoy that, don’t you?”

He didn’t deny it. “Why shouldn’t I? Let them look. Let them wish. At the end of the night, they’ll all know you’re with me.”

The words should have unsettled you, but they didn’t.

Eris’s possessiveness was a tool you could use, a shield that kept others from prying too deeply into who you truly were.

Still, you felt the weight of every gaze on you, men and women alike casting bold looks your way, their compliments growing more brazen with each introduction.

“You look like a goddess of autumn herself,” one male said, his voice dripping with admiration. “Surely no mortal could compare.”

“If only I were brave enough to ask for a dance,” said another, his eyes trailing over you shamelessly.

Eris, to his credit, didn’t allow their words to linger. “Bravery wouldn’t save you,” he said coolly, his arm slipping around your waist now, pulling you closer. “Some treasures aren’t meant to be touched.”

The possessive gesture drew murmurs from those around you, whispers that only seemed to inflate Eris’s ego further.

He thrived on the attention, on the envy that radiated from the other nobles.

And though you played along, offering a charming smile or a soft laugh at the right moments, you couldn’t shake the feeling of another gaze, one that burned hotter than all the rest.

Azriel.

You hadn’t seen him since Eris had taken you from his table, but you felt him. Felt the weight of his hazel eyes on you from the shadows, the intensity of his focus like a tangible thing.

It wasn’t just jealousy—you knew that.

It was something deeper, more complex.

He was watching you not as a predator watches prey, but as a hunter studies a puzzle he’s determined to solve.

As you moved through the crowd, you caught glimpses of him at the edges of your vision. Always in the periphery, never too far but never too close. His shadows curled around him like restless vipers, their movements barely restrained.

His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his body, the sharpness of his gaze, told you all you needed to know.

He hated seeing you like this—on Eris’s arm, surrounded by adoring nobles.

Hated the way Eris leaned into you, whispered in your ear as if you were his to command.

And yet, he did nothing.

He stayed hidden, his hands clenched at his sides, his shadows betraying his frustration.

Eris, oblivious to the spymaster’s presence, led you to a quieter corner of the courtyard where another group of nobles gathered. They greeted you warmly, their compliments flowing freely. One particularly bold male, tall and broad-shouldered, leaned close enough to make your skin prickle.

“If Eris ever tires of you,” he said, his voice low and dripping with innuendo, “I’d be more than happy to show you the true charms of the Autumn Court.”

Before you could respond, Eris stepped in, his voice sharp as a blade. “Careful, Halric. Flirting with what’s mine is a dangerous game.”

The other male chuckled, though he stepped back, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Of course, my lord. No harm meant.”

Eris watched him retreat, his hand sliding lower on your back, his lips brushing close to your ear. “They’re fools,” he murmured. “All of them. They see only what’s on the surface.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze with an enigmatic smile. “And what do you see?”

Eris’s eyes flickered with something more—something darker. “I see fire. A fire that can burn everything to ash if it’s not handled carefully.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but you hid it well, your expression unreadable as you allowed him to guide you back toward the heart of the festivities. All the while, you felt Azriel’s gaze following your every step, his shadows whispering to him in the darkness.

And though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was there, watching, waiting.

You could only imagine the storm brewing in his mind as you played your part, as you allowed yourself to be paraded like a trophy at Eris’s side.

The celebrations had reached their peak, the golden lights and laughter fading into a blur as Eris finally pulled you away from the crowd. His hand was firm around your wrist as he led you down a quiet hallway, away from the revelry and into a shadowed alcove tucked between towering stone walls. The flicker of distant torches barely reached this secluded corner, casting everything in dim, golden light.

The moment you were alone, Eris turned to you, his amber eyes gleaming with desire and triumph. He didn’t waste time with words, didn’t ask permission. His lips were on yours, hungry and demanding, his hands sliding over your waist, your back, your hips as though he was staking a claim. You didn’t resist, couldn’t—not when playing the part demanded compliance. So you kissed him back, letting your hands rest lightly on his shoulders, your movements calculated to seem eager, even though your heart wasn’t in it.

Eris groaned against your lips, his hands wandering lower. You caught his wrist subtly, guiding him back up without breaking the kiss. He smirked against your mouth, mistaking your restraint for coyness. He pressed closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours, but before he could push further, a voice called his name.

Eris cursed softly under his breath, pulling back with a frustrated sigh. “My father always has the worst timing,” he muttered. He cupped your chin, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as he smiled lazily. “Wait here for me. I won’t be long.”

With that, he left, his footsteps echoing as he disappeared into the distance. You exhaled slowly, your heartbeat steadying as the heat of his presence faded. But before you could compose yourself fully, a shadow moved in the corner of your vision.

Azriel.

He stepped from the darkness like a wraith, his hazel eyes burning with fury, his shadows coiling around him like restless predators. The sight of him in the dim light was enough to steal your breath. His sharp jaw was clenched, his scarred hands at his sides, though tension radiated from every inch of him.

“What game are you playing?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His words cut through the stillness like a blade.

You stiffened, meeting his gaze with as much calm as you could muster. “I’m not playing any games.”

Azriel scoffed, taking a step closer. His presence was overwhelming, his shadows licking at the edges of the alcove like they couldn’t contain themselves. “Don’t lie to me.”

You lifted your chin, refusing to flinch under his scrutiny. “I’m not lying. My name is Kaela, as I told him. And I’m genuinely interested in him.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but you said them anyway, your expression carefully blank. Azriel’s reaction was immediate. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as if the very idea disgusted him.

“Interested in Eris?” he repeated, his voice laced with incredulity. “Why would you want anything to do with someone like him? He’s—” He broke off, his wings flaring slightly behind him, as if he couldn’t find words strong enough to describe his disdain. “He’s vile. And you let him put his filthy hands on you.”

You held his gaze, refusing to waver. “What I let him do is none of your concern.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes darkened, the shadows around him swirling faster. Before you could react, he closed the distance between you in a single, fluid motion. His hand shot out, pinning you gently but firmly against the stone wall. His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to his as his lips crashed against yours.

It wasn’t like Eris’s kiss—calculated and arrogant. This was fire and desperation, a storm breaking after too long held back. Azriel kissed you like a man starved, his mouth devouring yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. A soft moan escaped your lips, and his grip on your jaw tightened slightly in response, his body pressing closer to yours.

Your hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him even closer, and he responded in kind, his kiss deepening, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that sent sparks shooting through your body. Heat pooled in your core, and you felt yourself melting into him despite every logical thought screaming at you to stop.

When he finally pulled away, your lips were swollen, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Azriel’s eyes bore into yours, his own breathing ragged. His thumb brushed over your cheek as he stared at you like you were the answer to a question he hadn’t even known he was asking.

“Now I know you’re a liar,” he said, his voice rough. “You didn’t kiss him back like that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. He leaned in again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Who are you? The truth this time.”

You swallowed hard, your resolve cracking under the weight of his gaze. But before you could speak, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the moment. Azriel stepped back, his shadows swallowing him as he disappeared into the darkness once more, leaving you alone, shaken and utterly undone.

You barely had time to compose yourself before Eris reappeared. His amber eyes glinted with the light of the torches as he stepped into the alcove, a slow, satisfied smirk curling his lips as he looked at you. He appeared every inch the confident heir to the Autumn Court, but his gaze carried a possessiveness that made your skin prickle.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he drawled, stepping closer until the heat of his body was brushing against yours. He cupped your face with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheek as his eyes roamed over you. “Where were we?”

Before you could reply, his lips captured yours again, the kiss hungry and insistent. He pressed you back against the stone wall, his hands wandering over your waist, your hips, and lower still. You stiffened slightly, your hand darting up to catch his wrist, stopping him just as his fingers began to stray too far.

“Eris,” you said softly, your voice calm but firm. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his brows furrowing slightly. You kept your expression neutral, offering him a small, teasing smile to soften the rejection. “Not here.”

He studied you for a moment, clearly debating whether to press the issue. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he stepped back, though his hands lingered on your waist. “You’re maddening, you know that?” he said, his tone a mixture of irritation and amusement.

“Perhaps,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “But I don’t think you mind.”

His smirk returned, his amber eyes glittering with amusement. “No, I don’t.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, “But you’ll have to make it up to me later.”

You didn’t respond, just smiled faintly as he pulled away. He straightened his jacket, his confidence undiminished, and reached for your hand. “Come on,” he said, his tone lighter now. “I’ve been gone too long already. Let’s not give the vultures anything to gossip about.”

He didn’t wait for your response, simply laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the heart of the festivities. His grip was firm but not harsh, his stride confident as though parading you through the crowd was a display of his power.

When you re-entered the courtyard, the music and laughter enveloped you once more. The crowd had thickened, and the firelight cast a warm glow over the dancers swirling in the center of the space. Eris held your hand tightly as he wove through the crowd, pausing every so often to speak with a noble or exchange pleasantries. Each time, his arm would slide around your waist, pulling you close as if to remind everyone watching that you were his for the evening.

The attention was as suffocating as it was useful. Nobles cast envious glances your way, their eyes filled with curiosity, admiration, or outright jealousy. Compliments were thrown your way with little subtlety, each one bolder than the last.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Eris,” one male said, his tone dripping with envy as his eyes roved over you. “I didn’t know the Autumn Court could attract such… radiance.”

Eris’s smile was sharp, his arm tightening around you. “Some treasures find their way to the right hands,” he said smoothly, his gaze daring anyone to challenge him.

You played your part perfectly, offering polite smiles and soft laughter, but you felt the weight of another gaze on you—one that burned hotter than all the rest.

Azriel was still watching.

From the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, he stood like a sentinel, his wings folded tightly against his back, his hazel eyes following your every move. He was a master of stealth, but you knew where to look now, could feel the intensity of his focus even when you didn’t meet his gaze.

His presence was a storm brewing on the horizon, and each step you took with Eris felt like walking closer to its center.

Eris, oblivious to the spymaster’s watchful gaze, led you toward the center of the festivities, where the music swelled and the dancing was at its most fervent. He turned to you, his hand still on your waist, and offered a slight bow. “Dance with me.”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Refusing would raise questions, and so you placed your hand in his and allowed him to guide you onto the dance floor. The music was lively, the rhythm fast and playful, and Eris was a skilled partner. He spun you with ease, his movements graceful and commanding, his smirk growing with every admiring glance cast your way.

But no matter how charming Eris was, no matter how well you played your role, your mind was elsewhere.

You could feel Azriel’s gaze on you even now, searing into you from across the courtyard. Every step, every twirl, felt like a challenge—a test to see how far you could push the illusion without breaking.

When the song ended, Eris pulled you close, his lips brushing your temple. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Every single one of them envies me tonight.”

You didn’t respond, simply offered him a small smile as the next song began. But as he led you into another dance, your thoughts drifted to the shadows, to the figure watching you with a gaze that felt more intimate, more piercing, than any touch Eris could muster.

The festivities were finally winding down, the golden light of the torches dimming as the Autumn Court’s revelers began to thin. The music had slowed to soft, wistful melodies, and the air carried the scent of burnt leaves and smoldering embers. Eris stood at your side, speaking with a small group of nobles, his arm draped loosely over your waist as though to remind everyone of your place. His laugh was sharp, cutting through the night like a blade, but his attention wavered when a steward approached, murmuring something low in his ear.

Eris sighed dramatically, his hand brushing over your hip as he leaned in. “It seems I’m needed again. Don’t stray too far—I won’t be long.” His amber eyes gleamed with promise before he turned and disappeared into the shadows with the steward, leaving you standing alone at the edge of the courtyard.

You exhaled slowly, the weight of your role settling heavily on your shoulders now that his presence had lifted. For a moment, you considered retreating to a quieter corner to compose yourself, but before you could take a single step, a familiar figure emerged from the darkness.

Azriel.

His approach was silent as ever, but his presence filled the space like a storm rolling in. His hazel eyes were sharp, cutting through the autumn haze as they locked onto yours, and the faint flicker of his shadows around his shoulders made him seem even more menacing.

“You’re alone,” he said, his voice low but carrying an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

You straightened, meeting his gaze with as much calm as you could muster. “Not for long. Eris will return soon.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened at the mention of Eris, his wings shifting slightly behind him as though the name itself irritated him. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate and controlled, and you instinctively took a step back, your shoulders brushing against the rough stone of the wall behind you.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his tone sharper now. “And don’t give me the same rehearsed lie you told Eris.”

You lifted your chin, refusing to let his intensity intimidate you. “It’s not a lie. I told you the truth—I’m Kaela, from a lesser court with ties to the Summer Court. Tarquin encouraged me to attend these festivities to build connections.”

Azriel scoffed, his expression darkening. “Do you think I’m a fool? That I’d believe you’re here for some… socialite mission? With him?” He stepped closer still, his body radiating heat and tension. “You expect me to believe you’d associate yourself with Eris Vanserra for connections?”

“Why does it matter to you?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. “What I do and who I do it with are none of your concern.”

“It matters because you’re lying,” Azriel growled, his hands suddenly gripping your arms as he pulled you close, his face mere inches from yours. His scent—night-chilled mist and cedar—filled your senses, making it harder to focus. “You’re not who you say you are. I see it in your eyes, in the way you carry yourself. You’re hiding something, and I want to know what it is.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing as his piercing gaze pinned you in place. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Then tell me,” he said, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “Tell me who you really are, and why you’re letting that vile male touch you.”

You hesitated, the weight of your mission warring with the intensity of his presence. But you couldn’t let the facade crack—not now, not after all you’d worked to build. “I told you who I am,” you said, your voice quieter now but still firm. “And as for Eris… perhaps I see something in him that you don’t.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening slightly, though not enough to hurt. “You can’t seriously mean that. Eris is a snake. A power-hungry coward who’d sell his own court for a sliver of advantage. And you—” his voice faltered, a flicker of something raw flashing in his eyes, “—you’re too clever to fall for him.”

You exhaled shakily, your heart pounding in your chest. “And what do you think you know about me, Azriel? You’ve seen me at a ball and a festival. That’s hardly enough to claim you know anything.”

“I know enough,” he said, his voice low and rough, the tension in his body palpable. “Enough to see you’re not who you say you are. Enough to see that you didn’t kiss Eris like you kissed me. You say you are interested in him but your body says otherwise.”

Your breath hitched, and his gaze dropped briefly to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes. He leaned closer, his voice a whisper now, but no less commanding. “So tell me, who are you?”

You stared at him, your mind racing. His proximity, the heat of his body against yours, the way his shadows curled restlessly around you—it was too much. Your carefully crafted persona felt like it was slipping, but you held onto it with everything you had.

“I’m exactly who I told you I am,” you said softly, forcing the words out even as your chest tightened. “And you have no right to demand otherwise.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his frustration evident as he released your arms and took a step back. His shadows writhed around him, their whispers like faint echoes of his turbulent thoughts. “You’re lying,” he said again, his tone quieter but no less certain. “And I’ll find out why.”

With that, he turned, disappearing into the darkness as swiftly as he’d arrived, leaving you standing there, shaken and breathless. You pressed a hand to the wall to steady yourself, your thoughts spinning.

You’d held your ground, but Azriel was relentless, and deep down, you knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d confront you.

Chapter 3

[mbat]

the fact that disney is more determined to give us "amazing" visuals rather than good stories and songs anymore is insulting

like they act like they cant have it all. youre the biggest studio ever, you own more companies than anything ever should, you have more money than i can even concieve of.

YOU ARE FULLY CAPABLE OF GIVING US MOVIES THAT ARE AMAZING IN EVERY ASPECT. SO FUCKING SHOW IT

[poguehearted77]

Portugal Nights

Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey

Portugal Nights-> The day was tense. Rehearsals were much more heated than the lines intended and the thin rubber band of restraint holding you both apart was bound to snap, and it finally does.

This belongs to my OBX Season 5: Payback For Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

smut: lots of making out (they've both needed this forever lol), oral sex (f! and m! receiving) , heavy petting, hickeys, shower sex, hand holding, protected sex and unprotected :( , drew is so pussy whipped omg, just passionate sex tbh, sex everywhere?? lmao.

"Action!"

Rafe paces back and forth in the abandoned dungeon-like room with his hands on his head, plotting desperately. You're surrounded by nothing but eroding walls, stained with foreign substances. There's dried blood on the floor that adds slight resistance with every lift of his heel.

You fume silently every time you look at the tall blonde who can't seem to stand still. You reflect on how he got you both in this mess in the first place and your eyes roll reflexively.

Earlier today, a little before dawn you and the pogues had just docked in Portugal, wasting no time to try to find Finch's fortress so you could find Groff, but you were being followed.

You noticed it first around sunset but kept it to yourself not wanting to distract the pogues from the objective of the mission in case you were wrong.

You'd all set up camp a little outside the city, not wanting to catch the attention of any civilians. However, you didn't rest. Not when you knew trackers tend to get a little careless as the sun slips below the horizon. Relying on the shadows of darkness to conceal their footprints and hide their silhouettes.

"I'm gonna scope the area a bit," You said, flipping your signature steel weapon up in the air and catching it coolly as you entered the darkness of the shrubs and out of sight. "I'm goin' after her." Rafe declares, already trailing behind you as Sarah calls for him but it falls on deaf, determined ears.

He's trekking closely behind you, so you stop walking and convey your message without even turning to face him. "Another step closer Rafe and I swear to god they'll have to dislodge steel from places you can't even name." He doesn't back down, nor does he step closer.

"I don't trust you." He says, and you scoff. "I don't care, Rafe," You finally turn, "Why don't you do us both a favour and go back to the others, yeah? I got this." For a moment he goes silent, almost like he didn't know what to say.

"No comeback? No insult?-" You start, always looking for a fair fight with him.

"Shut up." Rafe snaps back, stepping closer to you and your arms crossed while you plant your feet firmly where they are, refusing to let anything about the rich boy intimidate you.

"Looks like I finally got under your skin-" It's all a blur when he suddenly cups a hand over your mouth to silence you, "Will you shut the fuck up?" His words are delivered in a harsh whisper as his eyes scan your surroundings suspiciously.

At that moment, there was no Piper and Rafe. It's you and Drew. He met yours with a wild gaze, something unhinged about the way he was looking at you. Not as sincere and admirable as the longing stares from across the room that you're used to--no, this was something much more perilous.

"You hear that?" He whispers, softer this time. There's another rustle in the bushes around you. Shit.

With your backs turned and the area being so dark, the opposers use the darkness to their advantage and strike you both in the back of the head, knocking you out cold.

Which brings you to where you are now.

"For the love of god, will you stop the back and forth? You're driving me insane." You exclaim from where you rest against the contaminated walls.

"Listen," He now stalks to you slowly, like a predator approaching its prey. "I'm a proactive type of person. I'm not just gonna sit on my ass all day and let Finch come back and kill us!"

"Us? This didn't have to involve you! Maybe if you'd just taken that stick out of your ass for once and stayed with the group you could've saved yourself the trouble." Kicking yourself off the wall, you shout as loud as you can but he doesn't flinch.

Rafe's chest heaves rapidly, trying to calm himself down. "Well we're here now, and If I'm ever gonna make it back home, I have to get out of here alive."

You stand still, silent. Analyzing his features and expression, but your silence makes him uncomfortable and it etched across his face,

"Who is she?" The question is simple, and straightforward, yet far too complicated for Rafe to understand.

"What?" He questions.

Over the last few days you'd spent near the pogues, you'd gotten to know most of them quite well. All except Rafe that is.

"Your dad is dead, your little sister and your money are under your stepmother's possession. What do you have to go back to? Who is drawing you back?" He gulps, his defences crumbling evidently as his shoulders slumped.

For once, he didn't fight you on it.

Sofia. That's the name he shares with you and a little about their recent argument.

"Jus' don't tell anyone, alright? I don't need the others knowing more than they should." You shrug, "I have no reason to tell them about your cute wittle wove story." You couldn't stop yourself from teasing him.

Rafe charges towards you in anger with a glint of jest. You try to run backwards, away from him but your shoe is bound to the floor credit to the various adhesives meant to replicate stains and puddles.

By the time Drew realizes you aren't moving, it's too late and his body is already colliding with yours. Tangling together and sending you both tumbling to the ground with Drew between your legs and his head buried in the side of your neck.

You can hear the blood pumping in your ears. Drew's body completely covering yours on set in front of the crew should have you rolling out from underneath him and returning to reality, but no. There you lay, daring to glance into the piercing blue eyes that were already staring at you.

You take into account the notes of his cologne as they intermingle with the detergent of his clothes. The combination clouds your judgement and sends you reeling into a headspace you've been avoiding for the last three months.

You're in deep. Too deep.

"Cut!" Drew gets up like a kid caught red-handed before offering you a helping hand that you take graciously meanwhile the other guides you at the waist so lightly you'd barely notice it was there had your body not been burning at a thousand degrees.

Something is off. Usually, the two of you would be in knots of laughter after something like this, instead only the crew had giggles to go around but you both stood still. Unmoving, eyes locked on each other, looking within.

Could he see you? You wonder, does he know what you're thinking?

You swallow hard, your lips parting to say something, but no words come out. Instead, your gaze flickers to his mouth, and you catch him doing the same thing, just for a split second before he looks away. His jaw tightens as he shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping back, but the tension doesn’t break.

--

The day progresses into a warm summer night as the cast and crew gather at a charming Portuguese restaurant perched high in the city's hills. Lanterns nestled among lush potted plants cast a warm glow, while fairy lights drape elegantly from flowers cascading down from the ceiling, creating a dreamlike ambiance.

The long table overlooks the rolling hills below, their silhouettes dotted with the golden lights of the nearby city. Beyond, the navy-toned ocean stretches out, its gentle waves shimmering under the moonlight, completing the serene view.

The laughter is bubbly as the champagne flows between the tables. The cast looked amazing tonight, everyone had put on their best outfits for a fun night out with their castmates.

While Madelyn and Carlacia posed for a selfie together, Chase helped himself to the last bread roll left in the baskets the waiters had left earlier.

"Did you--" Drew titls the basket towards him so he can analyze the full damage of Chase's consumption. They both laugh, realizing the basket is completely void. "Maybe if we weren't waiting on JD and Y/n, we could get some real food going around."

The sole mention of your name has Drew on edge. He's recently lost the ability to control his own reactions around you as his body surrenders to the very mention of your name.

"Speak of the devil," Chase says as you and JD enter the restaurant side by side, a little embarrassed. "Fashionably late, as always." Madelyn remarks and you giggle.

"I'm sorry guys! I couldn't find my shoes and I extorted Jonathan for his kindness, so don't get mad at him." Your voice is sweet as you make your way around the table. Drew felt as though there were noise-cancelling headphones blocking out any surround sound.

His eyes fulfill their god-given purpose and stay glued to your frame--a very well-dressed frame might he add. You look stunning. He notices that you styled your hair differently. He's unsure if it's personal preference or a maintenance concern, but you rarely wore your natural curls out.

You're always opting to straighten them or put them up, but he thinks it amplifies your allure tenfold. Maybe he's just biased. That must be the case when he realizes he hasn't taken a breath since you walked in.

You situate yourself in the last empty seat between Madelyn and Chase, directly in front of Drew. Oh, this should be fun.

He clears his throat behind a closed fist, glancing up at you by chance and catching your gaze by luck. He does a double take and straightens up. "You look, just--" The words fade on him and he prays the ground would burst open at the seams and swallow him.

"Thank you, so do you." You return the half-finished compliment. However, it's for the best you don't say much about how Drew looks tonight. You're not sure you'd be able to conclude the sentence without the words 'edible', or 'sex on legs'.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the table, JD leans forward to whisper to Madison. "Remember that bet we made for Drew and Y/n, you predicted they'd get together within three months, and guess what? It'll be three months at midnight."

Madison giggles with a playful roll of her eyes. "What? Do you have this on your calendar or something?" JD does in fact proceed to show her his calendar with a marked date that says "Pay Day." Her eyes squint at him, "You are so ridiculous do you know that? I'm not backing down. The night is still young." She grins, and JD just shakes his head at the girl in clear denial.

The night flows on, filled with warmth and familiar laughter circulating the tables as everyone enjoys their conversations. You glanced down into your lap while Chase recounted a funny moment from earlier today on set.

You're anxiously considering if you should succumb to your sinful nature of greed and steal another glance at the breathtaking man sitting across the table.

You shouldn’t glance up—you know you shouldn’t—but you do anyway, and there he is, already watching you. The corner of his mouth curls into the faintest, most maddening smirk like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You hate to admit it but it intimidates you. The weight of his gaze sends an electric chill down your spine, prompting you to shift in your seat. Drew reaches for a sip of water from the crystal glass on the table while you shift in place.

You cross your legs and your left heel accidentally brushes the inside of Drew's leg and he chokes. He quickly shields it behind a cough and you look like a deer caught in headlights as his ice-blue orbs are piercing through you.

Your foot hasn't moved, but you decided not to provoke him any further and retract it back within your bounds. Your heart is racing and suddenly you're the one reaching for a glass of water to satiate your thirst, but you both know it's an impossible task since there's only one remedy and he's sitting right in front of you.

-

By midnight the cast made it back to their rooms, ready to unwind from a long day and eventful night meanwhile you're stuck. Your mind is bouncing between the walls that seem to get closer the more you pace back and forth.

You've been at it for the last 5 minutes since you made it back to your room. Any normal person would be putting the night behind them and getting ready for bed--but no.

You're not normal. You're obsessed.

Pathetically hooked on the idea of a man who's just 3 doors down the hall--completely oblivious to the trainwreck Drew was making of himself because of you.

You're chewing at your fingernails, contemplating just knocking on his door. Is that crazy? What if it's all in your head?

The latter possibility didn't weigh enough to hold you back from any impulsive decisions as you're stepping over to his door with your heels still on and all it takes is one deep breath before you're raising your hand to knock but it swings open before it makes contact.

Drew looks like he hadn't taken a seat since he got back either. He looks restless, frazzled, and maybe even frustrated. His chest halts on the incline as he holds his breath, startled to see exactly who he'd been looking for standing right in front of him.

His eyes rake over your figure frantically as if trying to decipher if you're truly standing in front of him.

"Hi," You breathe out, your head angled up to admire his perfect features while he stares down at you.

"Hey," His voice is soft, struggling to mask the undertone of sheer need.

Your mouth gapes, hesitating to say something but you decide to let your body speak for itself. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and tug him down so your lips crash against his.

The dam finally bursts and Drew's hands fly to wrap around your waist and pull you inside, swiftly closing the door behind you before he has you pinned up against it. His lips worked desperately along the expanse of your neck, trying to be mindful about his marks but he couldn't help himself. He's wanted this for so long-- Needed you for so long.

"Drew-" You gasp as he sucked particularly hard just below your ear, it sends you reeling and your eyes roll back with the little bit of your sanity that remains. "Hm?" He hums into the sweet scent of your skin, the same scent that's taunted him for months.

"Never mind." You dismiss yourself and resume the heated kisses that were paired with your desperate hands. You hastily unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped the back of your dress, all while never breaking the kiss.

It's intense. Your hands ghost over the definition of his abs and he tenses a little as he curses under his breath. Every ounce of contact you made with his body, lit his skin on fire.

Your dress puddles around your ankles once it meets the floor and Drew wastes no time before he's slowly sinking to his knees, your head shakes repeatedly but no words escape.

You're not even sure why you're denying it, your body wasn't functioning correctly--but could you blame it? You had thee Drew Starkey on his knees for you, and he was about to put his mouth to good great use.

Your point is proved once he had your panties on the floor and one leg hooked over his shoulder. His tongue lapped over your folds, languidly at first, as if to test the passion-infested waters.

"Drew--please." That's all it takes. One airy breath from you and he's consuming you from the core. His nose brushes against your clit every so often as his warm, wet tongue slides over your cunt with an unnatural hunger.

Your hands reach out to hold on to something, anything, but you're left to scratch at the door desperately as he works you to till you're tight-roping across the edge. Drew's just as turned on as you are, the rock-solid boner he's sporting beneath his dress pants a true testament to it.

His focus finally shifts to the pearl of your pussy, and you almost wish he'd never moved to it. X would never recover if they knew Drew Starkey ate pussy with his life.

Your legs are beginning to shake and it's a telltale sign that within seconds his name will be the only word falling from your lips. Once it finally hits you, the world crumbles and you feel like an angel falling from heaven. His mouth had pulled you down into the depths of hell, right into his arms and you couldn't be happier.

You make this clear when you pull him up to meet your gaze, he towers over you but you distract yourself from the effect it has on you by taking his thumb and wiping your slick off his swollen pink lips and sucking it off, wrapping your tongue around his thumb until he snaps.

Within the same second, he moves his hands to grab at the sides of your face, kissing you deeply. It's nothing but tongue and there's spit rolling over your bottom lip by the time you're both pulling back, chests heaving, lungs filled with each other's air, but it still wasn't enough.

He's holding onto you like he can never let you go. "You've got no idea how long I've needed this, needed you." He says and it makes your heart stutter in its rhythm. "Oh please," You dismiss him but his left hand stays on your waist while the other gently cups your cheek.

His eyes scan to search for yours in the dimly lit room, the only source of light stemming from the lone lamp beside the bed. "I like you, Y/n. It wasn't a secret. How could it be? I can't help myself around you." His words put a cheesy grin on your face.

"I like you, Drew. Always have. Big fan of your work, by the way." You giggle, referring to the almost degrading acts he'd just committed between your legs, but it evokes a breathy chuckle from him.

"Yeah?" He teases, stepping towards you and you take one step back, but he surprises you and scoops you up into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he leads you to the bed, tossing you onto your back and he crawls between your legs.

There's one last soft glance between the two of you. No more yearning, no more stealing glances from across the room. Finally, you're in his arms and you fit more perfectly than he could've imagined.

"What?" You say blankly, wondering what had him warped inside his own mind for so long. A smile stretches across his lips, "Nothin', just happy to be here." It's corny, but you laugh anyway. Moaning into the sweet kiss he dropped down to your lips, holding himself up with those big strong arms of his.

The rest is a blur of strong hands and intoxicating kisses that are used to distract you from the sweet burn that engulfed your body into flames as he rolled his hips into yours, letting his cock push into you for the first time.

The gasps you both let out are innocent, shocked and full of bliss from the moment he bottoms out. "Just l-let me know if you want me to slow down at any time, okay?" The sentiment comes out through clenched teeth as he refrains from any sudden movements.

The heat of your velvet walls convulsing around him is driving him to a point beyond insanity. "Oh god, start moving--please," you whine and Drew's body shudders.

"Fuck, don't beg. I'll give you anything you want, baby." He seals his promise with an accelerated pace, his cock driving in and out of you at a steady rhythm that had you arching into him, eyes screwed shut and unable to meet his gaze."

"Hey, hey, look at me." He deepens his thrusts and it makes the requirements of his words that much harder to meet. Struggling, your eyes flutter open but you shy away under his piercing gaze.

He looked too good for a man fucking your brains out. The way his jaw worked, locked in place from concentrations. His body was coated in a thin sheet of sweat that made him glisten under the rays of the lamp.

"God, you look perfect. So gorgeous." He flatters you and it heightens your high tenfold. Your hands reach out to grab onto the sheets of his bed but he offers you his hand instead. Giving it an assuring squeeze as you tumble into a vortex of euphoria. "I'm-" Interrupted by your own orgasm you short-circuit and the sight of you unravelling underneath him is enough to make him cum.

"Y/n-- shit!" He groans, hips stuttering rapidly until he blows his load and holds his place over you. The room goes quiet, filled with nothing but the consistent attempts for you to catch your breath. When you're ready, he pulls out slowly, tying off the condom and tossing it out.

"I'm gonna head to the shower," It falls from your lips suggestively but Drew waits for you to make your intentions clear. He licks his lips as he watches you strut your way to the bathroom, stopping once you're in the frame.

There's a charming grin you flash him from over your shoulder, "You coming or what?"

He was in fact coming. Twice, in the shower, you made sure the first time you repaid the favour with your mouth that was too talented for him to handle. His palm held your hair tight in a makeshift ponytail, holding onto the glass for his life before he fucked you up against it.

Sensically, there were no condoms available in the shower and you both recognized the risk you'd be taking but anything was worth the risk if it involved you. Besides, you both swore this would be the first and last time you fuck raw.

What a lie.

The minute you felt the unfiltered length of his cock slip into you, you knew it was a done deal. This was going to be a very big problem for both of you in the near future. He's your new addiction and you'll never quit.

The following morning the cast was expected to meet each other downstairs at 11 am for brunch, but here you are, tangled up under Drew's sheets at 1 in the afternoon after waking up only 20 minutes earlier. Your excessive sexcapades from the night before had worn you both out.

The blankets are covering your bodies as Drew slides between your folds with leisure, taking his time and fucking you open intimately. "You think they noticed we're missing?" Drew breathes out and your arms go to wrap around his neck as you answer. "Definitely. I'm not sure, but I think Madison was betting on this."

"Give her whatever she's owed. She wins, and god I'm so glad."

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav, @rafeycameronsgf, @moonlitunicorn, @thepopcultureaddict, @livinobx, @rafeycameronsgf.

[frenchie-simone]

Physicality

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader

word count: 2.8k

tags/warnings: SMUT 18+, reader is some kind of wolf/dog-ish mutant but no tail/ears described, reader has hair, reader is in heat, unprotected piv, creampie, logan has a pain kink (duh)

a/n: y’all i wrote this because i sometimes do feel like a bitch in heat, so this is self-indulgent as it always is. a tiny bit rushed so it’s not the best but i think it’s alright. if i forgot tags or warnings lmk!!

Today marks the day that you've officially been a part of the X-Men for six months. Your first mission feels like an eternity ago, perhaps because you're so busy every day, no day quite like the previous one. Being an X-Man means two things to you: dangerous missions and physics classes.

Oh, and of course, the massive crush you have on Logan. He doesn't know, how could he, when you cover up your feelings with snarky comments and distant behaviour? Logan doesn’t question why your anger seems to be directed at him the most, he just thinks you hate him more than you hate the average person. It’s partly true, you hate him for the way he makes you feel. More than that, you hate the fact that it's a full moon tonight.

It's after school hours, and you're preparing yourself for spending the night in the forest. You grade the physics homework, take a shower, change to more comfortable clothes and eventually sneak out of your room, trying to avoid anyone asking questions. It’s evening and the sun is setting early, so you decide it safer to leave the mansion now, just in case.

You greet students downstairs, and thankfully no one decides to chat more than that. You make it out to the courtyard without anyone interrupting you. You hop the fence and head towards the entrance to the forest, but your heightened senses pick up a familiar musky smell. You stop in your tracks and mutter a “fuck” under your breath before turning around. To no one’s surprise, you find Logan trying to follow you. He widens his eyes, but quickly regains his composure, his usual smirk creeping on his face. His gorgeous face…

“Were you following me?” you ask and cross your arms, glaring at Logan. He huffs a laugh and props a hand on his hip.

“Yeah. Was curious as to where you're sneaking out on a Tuesday” he says casually and raises an expectant brow, waiting for an explanation. You clench your jaw and look away, trying to figure out a plausible excuse.

“It’s a full moon tonight. I just wanted to watch the sky. In peace” you emphasize the last word. It’s getting darker by the second, and the minute the sun leaves the horizon, it's too late. Logan can't be near you tonight. You already feel the heat simmering on your skin despite the cool breeze.

Logan scrunches his eyebrows and looks at you, unconvinced. And yet, he only exhales and nods. “Alright, sweetheart. Just try not to get mauled by wolves, will ya?” he says with a smirk. If only he knew you were the wolf to look out for. You roll your eyes at him and mutter some curses under your breath before turning around and walking deeper into the woods.

It’s midnight and the sun has set. You're located deep in the forest, far from other people. The heat is getting to you now. Your muscles are twitching, your core is aching and it feels like your blood is boiling. You sit down and lean against a tree trunk, not caring about the dirt ruining your clothes, panting and trying to calm yourself down. You know that pleasuring yourself won't fix it, but it'll at least bring temporary relief. You slide your hand down your pants and under your panties and start massaging your clit. Pictures of Logan pop into your mind; images of him shirtless, sweaty, just after a workout… you can't help but imagine what he would look like on top of you. Or under. Or from the side.

“Logan…” you can't help but moan his name at the thought. Even imagining him is bringing you close to finishing. You move your fingers from your bud and curl them inside you, inside your already soaking pussy, and press your palm down on your bundle of nerves. You add another finger and start pumping slowly at first, but you lose your cool almost immediately. Your pace quickly becomes fast and hard, and with Logan's face and body plastered on the wall of your mind, you release on your fingers in record time. You mutter a "fuck" at how quickly you came because the ache comes back almost as fast as you finished. You lean your head against the tree and groan in annoyance, before bringing your fingers into your mouth to clean them. It hurts so much, it throbs and aches, so you bury your head in your knees and try to distract yourself from the pain that you can't fix yourself. You try to think about your next physics lesson, upcoming missions, and what you'll do on the weekend... and for a while, it works. Until you hear a twig crack and snap your head towards the sound.

You'd been so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't smelled Logan approaching. Now he's appearing through the trees, searching for you. And that musky, earthy scent of him is even stronger to you in your current state, and your nose twitches involuntarily. He sees you crouched on the ground, dishevelled and seemingly exhausted, and he quickly rushes to you. Worry etches his face as he kneels before you and places a hand on your knee. "Sweetheart, what happened? Are you alright?" he asks, searching your body for cuts or bruises. You swallow and look down at his large hand touching you.

"I'm fine, but you really shouldn't be here" you try to tell him, your voice shaky. He furrows his brows and gently strokes your knee, the worry still there. "Don't lie to me, Wolves. What's up?" he pushes, not listening to your dismissals anymore. You lightly shudder under his touch and your breath quickens. You try to calm yourself, but it's no use. "Logan, I'm serious. This is something I gotta deal with alone" you manage to say between shallow breaths. His hand stops stroking and slightly tightens its grip on you. "I'm not leaving 'til you tell me what's going on" he says with a stern voice. You can tell he means it. You swallow your pride and just decide to give him the truth.

"I'm in heat. You know, like an animal…" you mutter and look down, embarrassed to admit it. When he doesn't answer you, you carefully glance up. His eyes have gone wide and you hear him take a shaky breath. Oh fuck, did you make him uncomfortable? You turn your head to the side to avoid his face and you feel shame creeping on your cheeks.

"Hey, it's okay... I was just taken by surprise, I had no idea..." he explains after seeing you turn your head away. You turn your gaze towards him again, and he doesn't appear disgusted or uncomfortable, just a little... nervous. Logan takes a deep breath before speaking again: "Do you..." he clears his throat, "want me to help you?"

Your mouth falls agape at his words and your eyes widen. He can't mean what you think he is, right?

"How?" you ask him, eyes still blown wide. He rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to phrase it. "You know... take care of you," he says and looks at you, anxiously waiting for your reaction. You didn't think he'd actually suggest it, but now that he did, your body goes hot all over. You try to play cool even as you hear your heartbeat in your ears. "I couldn't possibly make you do that, Logan. It doesn't feel right" you answer with your remaining sensibility, but your urges and instincts strongly disagree. You look down at your knees, trying to hide the pleading in your eyes. Logan only scooches closer to you and takes your chin in his hand and tilts your head towards him.

"You're not making me, Wolves. I want to help you, wanna make you feel good. C'mon, let me take care of you" he assures you and holds eye contact, wanting to show you he means it. His words, his closeness, his tenderness... it's too much to refuse. You can't control your urges anymore.

You bite down on your lip to keep in any pathetic whines, but the way he looks at you is like an invitation to pounce on him. Before you can register what you're doing, you're pressing your lips to his. You only get a taste before you realize what you're doing and quickly pull away. "Shit. I'm sorry" you mutter and move away. You see his jaw clench, and you think you’ve upset him. The thought makes your heart drop.

Until he grabs your neck and smashes his lips on yours. You whimper at the sudden movement, but you quickly kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He groans against your mouth, before his tongue runs along your lower lip, asking for permission to enter. You part your lips instinctively and he doesn't waste a second shoving his tongue in your mouth. Your own tongue quickly joins in, until you're both devouring each other with such passion and hunger that it makes your head spin and core overheat. Logan sits down on the ground without parting his lips from yours and pulls you down with him, and you adjust your thighs to straddle him.

Neither Logan nor you thought this was how your first time would go, but neither of you could foresee this. All your sensibility, rationality and critical thinking were thrown out the window, and all you can think about is his large, muscular, perfect body under yours. In the heat of the moment, you start subconsciously grinding your core against his already stonehard length. His hands fly on your hips to guide you, and he groans against your mouth at the friction. You pull away only to catch your breath, still rocking against him, and your hands go to lace themselves in his brown hair. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting against his skin, but the need for more becomes too strong.

“Please, Logan… I need you inside me” you practically whine, teeth sinking into his neck in an attempt to muffle your pathetic whines and mewls. Logan groans at the sting of your teeth in his neck, and if you’d see his face, you’d notice his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Mmh, you’ll get what you need, sweet girl. I’ll take good care of you” Logan coos into your ear, lifting you up and placing you to lie back on the ground. He’d like to take his time, draw out your pleasure, but Logan can sense the urgency of your situation. You start quickly unbuttoning your pants, needing to get him inside before the painful throbbing of your pussy becomes too much to bear. Logan complies, starting to unbuckle his belt, although he’d very much like to see you naked, to see that skin he’s been dreaming about ever since he laid eyes on you. Another time, he thinks to himself.

You pull your pants off hastily, while your eyes are fixed on Logan’s bulge still hidden beneath the fabric. When you’re in just your panties, you start helping him, or at least you try to, but you’re just fumbling with the zipper because of the hurry you’re in. Logan can’t help but smirk to himself, but he makes no comment, knowing you’re more than just desperate. He pulls down his jeans along with his boxers, freeing has impressive and extremely hard length, the tip already leaking pre-cum. Your eyes widen at the sight, and you feel your walls clench around nothing. You’d like nothing more than to run your tongue over his prominent vein, or take his cock down your throat. That’ll have to wait for another time.

You pull Logan closer by hooking your legs around his waist, and he falls forward with a grunt, but quickly steadies himself on his forearms. You don’t even take off your drenched panties, you just pull them to the side, waiting for him to give you exactly what you want and need.

“You sure you want this, darlin’?” Logan asks you, giving you one more chance to change your name. You quickly nod your head, grabbing ahold of his dick and guiding it to your entrance.

“Words, baby” Logan tsks at you, wanting verbal confirmation. You mentally groan, feeling like if you opened your mouth you won’t be able to shut it. “Yes, fuck, I want it. Need you” you pathetically beg, still trying to pull him closer.

Logan straight up growls as he finally caves, despite that nagging feeling in the back of his head telling him this is wrong. That he’s taking advantage of a poor bitch in heat. He quickly realises the guilt is not enough to stop him. In one hard thrust, Logan sheathes himself inside you, and you gasp at the sudden but very welcome intrusion. He’s already panting heavily, trying to take it slow, as to not hurt you. Too bad you’re not having it.

“Please move, Logan…” you whine, trying to rock into his shaft. Logan’s large palm quickly moves to pin your hip down, and before you can protest, he pulls out almost all the way, before slamming into you. You cry out in pleasure, your hands flying up to claw at his shoulders. Logan buries his face in your neck, as he repeats the motions, going slow but incredibly deep inside you, you can feel him in your tummy. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, he can’t help but groan, trying to muffle his noises against your skin. He moves his arms to wrap underneath you as he now picks up his pace, unable to go slow when it comes to you. You moan at the increased speed, your sharp nails scratching down his arms, and to your surprise, he lets out a moan at the sting.

“Fuck, baby… gonna come before you if you keep that up” Logan grunts, but makes no effort to slow down. You start trying to meet his thrusts with your hips, but Logan is not having it. He holds you tighter, fucking you down on his cock. He frees one hand from underneath you, moving it between your bodies to rapidly draw circles your swollen clit. You whine at the added sensation, your back arching off the ground.

“I’m gonna- fuck!” you cry out, unable to finish your sentence as your orgasm suddenly crashes down on you with a brutal force. Your nerve endings are lit on fire, but in the best way, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you’re struggling to stay grounded. Logan holds you through it, just whispering sweet nothings to you:

“That’s it, baby. I’ve gotcha.”

“Did so good for me…”

Logan helps brings you down from the high, and for the first time in days, that seemingly insatiable hunger that had been residing in the pit of your stomach is gone. But not for long.

“Logan, I want you to cum in me, please…” you whine, your weak thighs shaking as you try to pin him to your pussy. Logan groans, knowing he really shouldn’t. It’s reckless, irresponsible, but how can he refuse you when you’re being so pathetic and needy for him to fill you up?

Logan lifts you up from the ground with effortlessly, making you straddle his thighs. He holds you down on his cock as he starts thrusting up into you, now just chasing his own release. You whimper as he pierces you on his dick, but you take it, more than willingly. It doesn’t take long, until he’s coming with a strained groan, holding you down on him, his grip so tight it’ll bruise. You feel his warm spend coat your inner walls, filling you up to the brim as he pumps himself empty. You let out an almost obscene moan as you cum on his cock again, the remnants or your previous orgasm not having faded.

“Fuck, Wolves… I shouldn’t have done that” Logan murmurs into your ear but with a slight grin betraying his words, and you can only giggle in response. There was no regret in either of you, you’ll worry about plan B tomorrow. If you remember…

You sit on his lap for a few moments, letting him catch his breath. For only a split second, you’re aware of the fact that you’re in the middle of a forest, both of your clothes covered in dirt, and you’re pretty sure you feel a leaf in your hair. When you feel him soften in you, you look up from his neck, admiring his face for a second. Your lips curl into a small smile.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part 2

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader/ford x fem!reader

choose your own ending / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

(if you would like a link to the playlist i created for this series, lmk!)

part one | part three

tag list: @awitchersbard / @theilluminatidragonqueen / @jazzypop-op/ @maryclanders/ @chaimshelii/@starship606/ @swimmingrascalbatdragon / @stanfordsbaby / @gxstiess / @skrunkle11 / @valinbean / @funkyenby / @therealgoofygoober69 / @theblueraven / @adrian920155 / @im-kinda-bored / @miarabanana / @uwauiss / @leo4242564 / @doggosnoodles12 / @soupieoopieisloopie / @zhungxi / @bandaids-n-porcelain / @marvelous-maniac / @opossumclown

It was a tense interaction following your question. 

Ford’s eyebrows raised in alarm and he carefully approached you, “Of course, we’ve met before, it’s me, Stanford.”

You pause, glancing between Stanley and his twin before replying hesitantly, “Sorry, the name doesn’t ring a bell. I just learned your name a few seconds ago from your brother.”

Ford’s lips narrow into a thin line, vexation written all over his face, “I know we parted ways on less than ideal terms, Y/N, but there’s no reason to pretend like you don’t recognize me.”

Your eyebrow raised at Ford’s firm stance, crossing your arms, “I’m sorry to say but I truly don’t. Maybe you have me mistaken for someone else perhaps?” You can’t help but get defensive, feeling accused that you were blowing off this complete stranger.

“Oh, I’m not mistaken. I know you very well, Y/N. I know that you got your Masters in Geology at Backupsmore. I know that ammolite is your favorite gemstone. I know that you learned hamboning from Fiddleford just to get on my nerves.” Ford counters you with facts, his own stubbornness coming through as you stare each other down.

Your eyes widen at the amount of detail Ford seems to know about you, “How do you know all these things about me? How do you know Fiddleford? Did you help him with his research out here?”

Ford sighs heavily, “I know I messed up back then and I know you must hate me but can you please drop this childish charade?” His low voice raises slightly in volume as his frustration mounts as he finally snaps at you. 

“Ford!” Stan cuts in between the two of you, catching both of you off guard, “Lay off her… I genuinely think she doesn’t… remember.” He sighs, putting the pieces together surprisingly quickly compared to his brother. He grabs his twin by the arm, pulling him off to the side, “Give us a second, we’ll be right back.” Stan says to you, giving you an apologetic stare.

You nod slowly as you decide to take a seat on the steps, watching as the sun slowly begins to set in the horizon. This new information perplexes you as you try to wrack your brain if Fiddleford had ever mentioned working with someone during his time in Gravity Falls. 

Meanwhile, the Pines twins walk off into the distance, just out of ear shot. “So who is she?” Stan questions, needing answers from his brother before he can present his finding. Ford bristles at  the question, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looks off into the distance before answering, ���Remember when we were out at sea commiserating on past romances… and I told you how I had met someone during my time in college but she left after I had gotten too deep into my involvement with Bill.”

“Yeah, vaguely, I thought you were just making that up to try and relate to my stories about my ex-wives. You never were smooth with the ladies.” Stan admits with a shrug to which Ford rolls his eyes at. “Well, that’s her. The age old cliche of the one that got away.” Ford summarizes, “But she was never this petty before. I know I hurt her immensely but…”

“She’s not being petty, poindexter. Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Stan sighs, running a hand over his face in exasperation. Ford stares back blankly at him, unsure how to respond. “God, you’re supposed to be the smart one here. Remember your old friend McGucket’s invention? You know the one that can literally erase memories? The one that erased all my memories?” Stan spells it out for his brother.

It all clicks in Ford’s head, “You don’t think… Fiddleford wiped her memory, do you?” 

“Ding, ding, we got a winner!” Stan says sardonically, “Took ya long enough.”

“Why would he do that? I need to get to the bottom of this, Stanley…” Ford looks over his brother’s shoulder, staring at you. Despite the time that has passed, you look just as vibrant as he remembered you, your features highlighted in the orange glow of the sunset. 

Stan notices the longing look on his brother’s face and places a hand on his shoulder, “You know she’s supposed to head out tomorrow morning? Got a whole road trip planned ahead.”

“Well, let’s see if she’d at least be willing to stick around to talk to Fiddleford.” Ford says with steely determination as he begins to walk back towards you, Stan following at his heels.

You look up as the pair walk up to you, able to see them side by side. There were distinct differences in terms of style but they were nearly identical, only just now picking up the cleft in Stanford’s chin and their different glasses. 

Ford mulls over his choice of words. Despite being the more logical twin, Ford had to admit he was perhaps just as stubborn as his brother. “My apologies for my directness. I know you may not remember me, but please trust me when I say that we have an extensive history together. What if we were to visit Fiddleford tomorrow to perhaps quell your doubts and clarify some things?” He offers, hoping in the back of his mind that you’ll say yes.

You pause at the offer, thinking it through. You had the urge to decline, still on the defense. After all, this man pretty much accused you of acting like a child when you didn’t recognize him.

However, you did wish to see Fiddleford again, so curious about what happened to him after all these years. 

“Alright, I’ll stay another day in Gravity Falls to see Fiddleford. But I want to know a little bit more about you.” Your eyes narrow in on Ford. Stan clears his throat, very aware of the tension between the two of you. “Well, I’m gonna go take care of… the broken thing inside...” He grumbles out the last part, making an awkward escape as he walks past you up the steps before pausing at the door to address you, “Come back inside whenever you and Sixer are done talking, I’ll clear out one of the rooms so you can stay for the night.”

Before you can protest, Stan closes the screen door behind him, giving you and Ford some privacy.

“So you had some questions for me?” Ford sighs, deciding to take a seat next to you. It felt so strange to be so close to you physically after all this time yet so distant due to your loss of memories, wishing that he could pull you into a tight embrace and apologize for everything that happened in the past. 

“Well, I’m assuming if you know Fiddleford and somehow know that I got my Masters in Geology that you went to Backupsmore as well.” You start there, knowing the common thread that connects the two of you is the university you all attended, “That’s correct, not my first choice obviously.” Ford replies with a nod.

“Is it anyone’s first choice?” You comment which pulls a chuckle from Ford who shakes his head. “Very true, I know it wasn’t either of ours. Fiddleford was just elated to be the first in his family to even go.”

“So what did you major in?” You ask with a tilt of your head, “And how did you meet Fiddleford?”

“What didn’t I major in is the better question. I technically have 12 PhDs but my main focuses were Physics and Molecular Biology.”  Ford admitted with a sense of pride, your jaw almost dropping at this information. ”As for how I met Fiddleford, I had proposed a theory in class one time that immediately got shot down by my professor. But Fiddleford shared my passion for pushing boundaries of existing theories and knowledge and we spent the whole night trying to prove it had validity.” Ford said, smiling at that particular memory. 

You note the admiration in Ford’s voice as he speaks of Fiddleford, knowing that their relationship must be close. “I’m so confused… how do I not remember you if you and Fiddleford have such a close relationship?” You sigh, second guessing your own memories at this point. All this information felt like it made sense logically but it was difficult to suspend your disbelief. You hesitate to ask the question, “How... did we meet?”

Ford pauses, staring out into the forest, unable to meet your gaze as he recounts your first meeting. It seems so distant but it was a simple time before life got complicated. 

Before he made your lives complicated. 

Before he can reply, you cut him off, seeing the pained look in his eyes and realizing you may have gone too far. Whoever you were to him, something must have happened between the two of you that led to this reaction. “Actually, don’t answer that… It's getting late and I know we’ll have all of tomorrow to go over this with Fiddleford.” 

“Right… we should probably call it for the evening.” Ford lets out a sigh of relief, getting up from his spot on the steps. He offers his hand, your eyes flicking towards it and noting the six fingers that were facing towards you. Realizing what you’re staring at, he is about to withdraw his hand, an embarrassed flush to his cheeks, but you take it, your warm fingers wrapping around his palm, as you stand up. 

“Are you heading inside?” You ask, still holding into his hand. He realizes you have yet to let go and basks in the moment, fighting the urge to intertwine his fingers with yours. “I’m going to stay out here for a bit longer. I should probably fix that invention that I was working on before…” Ford admits, almost waiting for you to scold him like you would in the past.

But you don’t.

Instead, you nod in understanding, squeezing Ford’s hand one final time before letting go. “Alright, I’m gonna head inside and see where I’m sleeping for the night…” You begin to walk towards the doorway before pausing at the door. 

“Hey… I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I really hope tomorrow something sparks my memory.” You say, “Good night, Stanford.” You disappear behind the doorway, not waiting for him to respond.

Ford stares as he watches your frame retreat from behind the door, “Good night, Y/N… my dear.” The old pet name feeling heavy on his tongue but he can’t help but let it out.

-

As you stare up at the ceiling, you wonder how you even ended up in a storage room inside a tourist trap, laying on an air mattress.

Your trip - at least for the next day or so - is derailed. You’re thankful that Stan had offered to let you stay in the Mystery Shack as you were planning on sleeping in your car underneath the stars, drained from today’s turns of events and too tired to drive into town to try and find some sort of accommodation.

Yet your trip isn’t even the most pressing thing on your mind.

Who is Stanford Pines?

Your eyes shut tightly, trying to mull over the potential possibilities of how you might know this man who vehemently claims to know you. You knew you were getting older but there’s no way your memory was this shot, especially considering the fact that Ford had shared that he and Fiddleford were close friends and went to Backupsmore.

Your mind continued to draw blanks, unable to pinpoint a single memory that involved him.

Yet something about him was so familiar. Maybe that’s why a sense of deja vu had hit you the moment you met his brother and walked through the Mystery Shack.

Finally, fatigue hits you and you are able to fall asleep, slipping into a new dream.

You find yourself back at Backupsmore, walking through the quad and making your way to the library. The campus is decorated in hues of orange and yellow, autumn leaves scattered across the grass. Your boots crunching against the leaves as you weave through the bodies that mill around to and from class.

A gust of wind hits your face, wincing as the harshness against your skin as you had forgotten to bring a scarf on your trek. You finally make it to the library, opening the heavy doors to be greeted to the warmth and scent of old paperback books. 

You walk past the front desk, making your way directly to the back of the library to the stacks. You pass the mostly empty study carrels one by one, looking for someone specific.

You get to the very end of what seemed like a never ending maze and see a table tucked into the corner, surrounded by bookshelves. A broad-shouldered figure, wearing a sweater vest, sits facing away from you, their head buried in the pile of books around them. 

Your lips begin to move, calling out a name to address the person before you.

Stanford.

You wake up in a startle, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you feel a sudden pressure on your chest. Your eyes adjust to the sight in front of you, seeing a blur of pink, thinking you’re still dreaming. Rubbing your eyes vigorously, you realize there’s a pig sniffing your face in curiosity.

“God, what have I gotten myself into?” You groan out groggily, laying back in defeat as Waddles begins to lick your cheek.

-

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Ford sits awkwardly in front of an audience of his great nephew and niece who are gaping at him in awe, just having explained the whole situation to them as they questioned who’s car was parked in the front of the Mystery Shack.

Stan sips from a mug that spells ‘World’s Greatest Grunkle’ that Mabel made him, a slightly amused grin spreading across his face. The look on their faces was priceless, he thinks to himself, wishing he could take a photo of it. Though, he was in their shoes just last night, still processing that his poindexter brother actually landed someone after all those years of fearing girls and that she somehow ended up stranded on the side of the road just as he was driving back home.

He was just grateful though that his brother wasn’t around for the parts where he was clearly smooth talking to you, unaware that you were his twin’s ex-lover.

“Oh my god, Grunkle Ford, this is amazing!” Mabel exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief, “See, I’ve been trying to figure who the ideal candidate would be to match you with but I couldn’t think of anyone in Gravity Falls. Maybe you two can rekindle your romance! We just need to do what we did with Grunkle Stan and show her things to remind her of your time together!” 

“Or maybe her memories are stored where the Society of the Blind Eye held Old Man McGucket’s memories? There were a ton of Gravity Falls citizens’ names in there, I’m sure she’s somewhere in that pile.” Dipper offers as a suggestion, more invested in understanding how to restore memory loss from the Memory Gun than Mabel’s romantic plans for her uncle. 

Though he had to admit that there was a sliver of him that was rooting for his Grunkle Ford in the romance department.

“Those are excellent suggestions, kids. I’m hoping perhaps talking to Fiddleford today will be one of the first steps into getting her memory back. There is one issue though with your suggestion, Mabel.” Ford admits, slightly crestfallen, “I don’t really have anything left from our time we were together. When she left, she took all remnants of her, photos of us together, letters she wrote to me. What I do have left I’m not sure if it will be effective in bringing those memories back.”

“What is it, Grunkle Ford? Maybe we can still use it, you never know if you don’t try!” Mabel said in reassurance.

Ford hesitated, feeling Dipper, Mabel and Stan’s eyes trained on him, waiting for a response. 

Thankfully, your presence saved him in the nick of time, clearing your throat awkwardly. This catches everyone’s attention, Dipper and Mabel’s head whipping around. You stand in the entrance to the kitchen, still clad in your pajamas and your hair tousled from sleep, holding Waddles in your arms.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting, I just wanted to make sure this pig is supposed to be in here. He somehow got into my room.” You say, noticing how Waddles squirms now in your arms as he sees Mabel. You put him down and watch him scurry to Mabel who eagerly scoops him into her arms, nuzzling his pink cheek. 

“You’re all good, we were just having breakfast. Need a cup of coffee?” Stan says nonchalantly, grabbing the coffee pot that was by his elbow. You nod eagerly, walking towards him and taking the mug that he poured you. “These are me and Ford’s grandniece and nephew, by the way, since you didn’t get to meet them last night. They’re staying here for the summer.” Stan gestures to the two twins that are staring at you like you had a second head.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mabel! Sorry about Waddles, he kinda wanders around the house if I’m not awake yet.” The energetic brunette introduces herself. “No need to apologize, he was very sweet. If anything, he got me out of bed to get my day started. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You say with a relaxed smile.

“I’m Dipper, nice to meet you. Grunkle Stan was just telling us how you ended up staying here.” The more relaxed male counterpart to Mabel chimed in, trying to move the conversation away from the topic discussed prior to you entering the room. Ford let out a slight sigh of relief, grateful that he was no longer in the hot seat.

“Well, your Grunkle Stan saved me from having to spend a pretty penny on a tow truck and a place to stay so I’m very grateful for that.” You chuckle, getting used to the term ‘Grunkle’.

“Sooo, Y/N, mind if I do a little Q&A with you? Since you’ll be staying here, I wanna get to know you better!” Mabel said eagerly, mentally mapping out her questions already. You blink owlishly before your eyes flick between Stan and Ford in amusement, “Fire away, Mabel. Though I hope your Grunkles didn’t put you up to this as a little payback for when I interrogated them yesterday?”

“She questioned you too?” Ford says in surprise to his brother who scratches chin mindlessly. “A little bit after finishing up the tour I gave her of the Mystery Shack. This one’s ruthless, no wonder she works for the government!” Stan taunts, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Wait, you work for the government?” Dipper asks, his eyes slightly narrowing in skepticism. You blink at his almost defensive reaction before elbowing Stan in the side who almost chokes on his coffee, “I literally asked you three questions. Don’t listen to him, I work for the National Parks, not the CIA.” 

Dipper visibly relaxes and Mabel’s eyes linger on where you elbowed Grunkle Stan, picking up on how relaxed you seemed around him compared to Grunkle Ford. In fact, you had barely acknowledged Ford this morning, standing by the counter next to Stan. Mabel decides to take matters into her own hands, playing matchmaker as she gets up from her chair. 

“Well that answers one of my questions. By the way, take a seat, Y/N! You’re our guest and I’m finished with my pancakes!” She walks over to you, pulling you by the hand as you plop onto the chair that is coincidentally right next to Ford. “Thanks Mabel..” You roll with the situation before looking over at Ford who stares at you with what seems to be pride.

“You really made it to the National Parks, huh? That was your dream since freshman year…” Ford says though immediately regrets it as you stare back at him in surprise. “Yeah.. I did. No one really knew about that.. Not even Fiddleford.” You reply, running your thumb over the print on the mug bashfully. “Well, um... I’m really happy for you. I know you must have worked hard to get there.” Ford offers, not sure how else to respond.

You smile warmly, taking a sip from your coffee, “Thanks, I appreciate it. It means a lot coming from someone with 12 PhDs.” You tease at the end to which Ford’s cheeks redden in embarrassment and flattery.

Mabel hops up on the counter next to her Grunkle Stan who mutters under his breath, “Smooth move, kid.” 

You turn to look back at Mabel, “Any more questions for me?” 

Mabel taps her chin, deep in thought. Her eyes flicker over to great-uncle Ford who continues to stare at you in admiration. She snaps her fingers, putting her match-making skills to use once again, “What would you say is your type in a partner?”

“Mabel! What kinda question is that?” Dipper groans, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Wow, we’re getting to the real hard-hitting questions.” You say in amusement, slightly caught off guard but amused. You ponder the answer yourself, wondering if the kids would understand what you mean by this.

“Well, does your generation know what a silver fox is?” You ask with a sheepish grin and a flush to your cheeks, rubbing the back of your neck.

Your answer causes a chain reaction of different responses.

Mabel squeals with an eager nod, looking over hopefully at her Grunkle Ford.

Dipper and Stan both end up spitting out their milk and coffee respectively.

Ford sits at the table, blinking in confusion.

“What’s a silver fox? Is that a new type of species?”

-

After cleaning up the mess that Stan and Dipper had made, you finally start getting ready to head out with Ford to visit your old friend. You stand in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing your outfit before reaching to grab the hairbrush Mabel graciously lets you borrow after you realize that you had forgotten yours in the car.

Stan walks down the stairs, having changed out of his white tank-top and pajama pants into clothes more suitable for going out. He pauses at the open bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Hey, while you and Poindexter catch up with McGucket, I’m gonna swing into town later tonight to get you a replacement battery for your car.”

Placing the brush down, you address Stan, “You sure? I can always ask Ford if we could stop by the auto shop on the way back to pick it up.”

Stan scoffs, “Please, my brother’s smart and knows a ton about science-y stuff but he’s hopeless when it comes to cars. Besides, I know a guy, I’ll get you a discount.”

“Alright.. Just let me know how much I owe you, I’m for sure paying you back.” You say hesitantly as you make your way towards the door. Stan steps aside to let you through, “Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively.

Technically, that guy was Bud Gleeful and that discount was five-fingered but you didn’t have to know that.

“You found your way around the Mystery Shack pretty easily, by the way. Didn’t even have to show you where the bathroom was, I sometimes have a hard time finding it and I’ve lived here for over 30 years.” Stan comments. You realize that even this morning, you walked directly to the kitchen, almost like your feet knew where to go through pure muscle memory.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” Ford’s deep voice calls out, walking down the hallway to approach you and Stan. 

“Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” You say, slightly nervous to see Fiddleford again. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he didn’t even remember you just like you couldn’t remember Ford?

Ford could see the furrow in your brow, a sign he had picked up through the years you had been together that you were overthinking. He hesitates for a second but places a hand on your arm, snapping you out of your rumination. “He’ll be elated to see you, Y/N. Though to give you a fair warning, he looks a lot different than how he did during our college days.” He says reassuringly.

You nod, smiling up at him, your nerves calmed down for now. “Thanks, Ford. I’m gonna go grab my bag and I’ll meet you outside.” You make your way back down the hallway, leaving the twins by themselves.

“Think she might already be starting to getting some of her memories back just by being here…” Stan muttered, following his brother outside. Ford’s eyebrow raises in confusion, “What makes you say that, Stanley?”

“She knows how to get around the house without even thinking about it. I know I gave her a tour but that was just the showroom and the gift shop.” Stan shares his observation, holding the door open for Ford as they step out into the front yard where Stan’s car is parked.

“Fascinating… maybe her memories may come back more organically than we had thought.” Ford muses before placing his hand out, “The keys, Stanley?”

Stan sighs, rummaging through his jacket before placing his keys in his brother’s hand, “You know I could have just driven you two up to the mansion but someone insisted I give you two alone time to bond.”

Ford squeezes the keys in his hand before smiling at his brother, “I should probably say thank you to Mabel then… and thanks Stanley for bringing her here.”

Stan punches his twin in the arm affectionately, “Whatever, I just better not see a scratch on El Diablo when you two get back.” Ford winces but grins, rubbing the spot on his arm.

Right on cue, you close the creaky door behind you, bag slung over your shoulder as you walk over to the pair, “Alright, I’m ready to go! Sorry, Mabel stopped me on the way out to ask my opinion on what sweater she should wear to the roller rink. Apparently, none of you guys have the taste to give her a valid opinion.” You chuckle.

“Roller rink? I swear these kids turn thirteen and think they can just go around without telling their Grunkle where they’re going.” Stan sighs in exasperation, calling out Mabel’s name as he walks back inside. You follow Ford to the car, sliding into the passenger side. “Sorry if my driving is a bit rusty, Stanley’s usually the one that drives us around when we’re in Oregon for the summer.” Ford apologizes in advance, pulling out of Mystery Shack and onto the open road.

“I mean as long we come out unscathed, I’m not complaining.” You say nonchalantly, taking in the sight of the massive trees that tower over the two way road in front of you. 

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, neither one of you knowing how to spark conversation. There lingered an unspoken heaviness, mostly due in part the intensity of your exchange the previous night. Ford desperately wanted to talk to you and yet he was drawing a blank on what to even talk about. 

As you make your way up the winding hills, Ford finally speaks up, deciding to ask you more about your work, “So you work for the National Parks? Are you a research scientist or did you go the natural resource conservation route?” He asks, remembering how you were torn between pursuing further research or honing in on your love of preserving nature.

“You’re pretty well-informed about the geoscience field. I just tell most people I look at rocks all day.” You admit, toying with the necklace that you had tucked into your shirt, “I started off in research but I realized that most of my time was spent in labs and studying specimens rather than actually out in the field. I love the parks so much, I was itching to get back out there so I switched to conservation.” 

“Makes sense, just studying concepts and theories in a controlled environment isn’t nearly as fun as getting hands-on experience.” Ford chuckles. His eyes flick over to see your fingers rolling around the vibrant orange gemstone attached to your necklace, almost choking on his spit. Your eyes meet his and your eyebrow raises as Ford’s expression is like he’s seen a ghost.

“You okay? Do I have something on my face?” You question, pulling down the sun visor to check your appearance in the mirror. Ford shakes his head vigorously, clearing his throat, “No… I… do you remember where you got that necklace?”

You pause at his query, putting the sun visor back into its original position and glancing down at the sunstone that dangles from the simple gold chain. “Oh this? I honestly don’t remember, I’ve had it for quite some time. Why do you ask?”

Ford takes a deep breath before looking back onto the road, “I… well… gave it to you. We drove up here from Backupsmore to start my grant research. Along the way, we stopped near one of the parks and you found that piece of sunstone. You carried it around everywhere so one night, I took the time to fashion it into a necklace so you’d never lose it.” 

There’s a pause before you speak. That pause felt like eternity to Ford.

“You know…I think you were in my dream last night...” You say, staring at the necklace with a newfound understanding. “I was back at Backupsmore and walking to the library. I ended up walking up to someone with their head buried in the books and I called out your name but I woke up after that.”

Ford was not expecting that response, looking over at you in alarm, “This may be a stretch but was there indication in your dream that it was fall?” You nod slowly.

“That was the first time we met. You were struggling with the section on seismic refractions in a physics course that I had taken a semester prior. Our professor recommended me as a tutor.” Ford recounts, his fingers gripping the wheel slightly tighter.

“Jeez… could all my dreams… just be memories?” You mutter to yourself but loud enough for Ford to hear it. “You’ve had other dreams….?” Ford questioned, his mind reeling with this discovery. “Yeah, I’ve had them for years. There’s always someone else in them… but before I can figure out or discern who it might be, my body wakes up.” You admit, rifling through your bag before pulling out a small leather bound journal.

“This is a bit embarrassing to admit but I’ve been keeping track of them here.” You say hesitantly as you hold up the leather bound journal. Ford stared between you and the journal in awe. He had always found preparation attractive and he thinks he may have fallen in love with you all over again.

“Perhaps we can go through some of them and see if it correlates to any memories I have.” Ford attempts to say with a steady voice but there’s a hint of excitement in his proposition. “I honestly would love that… I feel like I’ve been trying to crack the code of these dreams without any key.” You reply eagerly.

Ford makes the final turn up the hill, approaching the massive gates to what was formerly the Northwest Manor. Your eyes widen, staring at the impressive estate before you. You watch as Ford presses on the intercom, “Fiddleford, we’re here.” before the gates open to let you in.

“This.. is where Fiddleford lives? Did he make a breakthrough with his personal computers or something?” You question to which Ford chuckles nervously. “You could say that. Honestly, it’s quite a long story that we can talk about inside.” After parking the car in front of the fountain, Ford gets out of the car before opening the door for you.

You two make your way to the wooden front door, which bursts open soon after Ford raps his knuckles against it. You’re greeted by your friend, who looks considerably older despite being the same age as you and Stanford that you almost didn’t recognize him. Fiddleford embraces Ford first before stepping back to assess you. You gulp, anxiety filling up your system once again.

You’re quickly enveloped into a tight hug by Fiddleford, which you return. “My god, Fiddleford, it’s been too long. I thought you disappeared off the face of the Earth.” You said shakily. You two pull apart as Fiddleford grasps your arms, “Sweet sarsaparilla, look at you, Y/N! You make me and Ford look like old geezers! I’m real sorry I hadn’t reached out until now…”

“There’s no need to apologize, Fiddleford… I’m just glad we reconnected.” You say, a wave of nostalgia hitting you. “Come on in, you two! We got a lot of catching up to do!” Fiddleford says, ushering you into the massive home with his arm before closing the door.

[rhenuvee]

Playing Animal Crossing New Horizons with HSR Men

Warnings: ugly villager slander, established relationship (can be platonic or romantic)

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Argenti: Your fellow knight of beauty grows quite fond of the game, immediately finding the freedom of creativity in decoration endearing. He always gives you compliments on your OOTD, and takes screenshots whenever you design a new area on your island. Argenti gave himself the gardening job- spending his bells on red rose seeds. He gets proficient in following the flower guide, and is very proud of himself if he ever gets a golden rose on your island. He loves the villagers, finding them each very cute, and even beauty in the "ugly" villagers. "Did you see the villagers wearing the red rose on their head? I must say I am flattered they love it so much. Though, I am more happy that they appreciate the beauty of our island." He enjoys documenting the beautiful places in your island with photos <3

Aventurine: From the beginning he points out the fact that Tom Nook is a capitalist, which makes you roll your eyes thinking he thinks this game is silly. However, it is quite the opposite as it doesn't take him long to get out of his home loan debt and is somehow extremely lucky. It's unfair to you that he could just log in on any given day and have the best deal for turnips. However because you are his favourite he says he’s willing to buy you whatever you want, he guesses. He happens to be able to catch rare species like the Coelacanth, and it infuriates you but you really can't be if it's helping the museum. "445 bells per turnip, sounds like music to my ears~" "What's that? You want this violin? Well I guess I could spare you a few bells... is one million okay?"

Blade: Let's not kid ourselves here- it takes a lot of convincing and help from Silver Wolf to get him to even be in the presence of Animal Crossing. He says he would much rather stand and look at the wall (SW: "You already do that everyday"). Eventually he sits himself next to you, and listens to your giddy rambling about what to do in the game while he puts on a serious face not saying anything. After the preliminary tutorial/startup gameplay, he finally says, “…why is this rat harassing me for money.” However, the loans aren't the worst but the villagers chasing him down are. He purposely ignores them and grumbles when you tell him to answer ):/. He prefers to watch you play, but because he sees you smile and laugh at his sarcastic comments, he thinks it's not so bad.

Boothill: He's definitely down to try it out, but he ends up being a bit of a troll. He doesn't really mind cute/ugly villagers, until he judges them for what they say. “That’s right, (y/n) did catch all those fish.” “Did he just ask me if he could call me Muffin.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I GOTTA PAY ANOTHER LOAN?!!?” Yeah… he quickly feels the grindy-ness, complaining that Tom Nook was working him like a forkin’ dog. A little bit of comical rage, but he won’t lie he is enjoying it. He also asks if there are any guns and he is disappointed, so he opts for the net. He's a little rough and rowdy, but he does it in style. That being said, he 100% spends his extra bells on a cowboy outfit.

Dan Heng: He agrees instantly- aw :(. He knows you (and March) have been begging him to play. He’s is fairly good at it- gets out of the tent quickly, masters catching creatures, a nicely organized house… He’s quite resourceful too, chopping down trees and going to mystery islands to farm the heck out of it. The villagers love him, both of you often seeing them run to him with the little sparkly flowers. And even though he's normally serious, you can't help but fawn over how sweet he is with the villagers. "...She wants to call me Shmoopy, do I-" "YES." Villagers asking him to catch a fish? He's immediately on it. He remembers their names and treats them like real people :(

Dr. Ratio: "Is it educational?" Bro is such a nerd. You deadpan at him, and sass him for expecting this to be IXL or something. He is also one to get through the tutorial part easily. You expected him to be overly critical of the game, but he finds appreciation in the museum: both the creatures and the art. Is it a farfetched idea that I think he'd know how to tell the reals and fakes right off the bat? "Do you really think Da Vinci spilled coffee on his work?" At least it saves you the troubles of wasting your bells and getting a fake. I think your island would not be a mess, and would have at least a few statues (you know the ones) which add his touch to it.

Gallagher: Honestly he's happy as long as he gets a little area for himself. Kind of a wild card this one- somehow calm and chaotic at the same time, and it's puzzling because how is he doing such weird things with a straight face? Trolls the villagers quite a bit (he's lucky ACNH villagers are nice) by hitting them with a net (just once though) and giving them different catchphrases every time they ask. "Why is Bob saying 'spaghettini' at the end of his sentences?" "Um, because I thought it'd be funny? Also I'm kinda hungry so-" "Gallagher ):/" Despite the randomness, he is wholesome at times. He is also one to compliment your new outfit, and stargaze with you on the new area you decorated.

Gepard: He's busy so you weren't expecting too much from him, but he takes pride in having a well-rounded island. He gets so excited when he catches a new species that you don't have yet- what a cutie. Also goes full throttle when there's a bug-off or fishing tourney. Despite being a video game, I feel like there will be some way he messes up taking care of plants. The flowers overgrow, the turnips rot, and he doesn't understand why the trees aren't growing? But with some tips from you along with your island designing skills, your island rank moves up and he is BEAMING. "Zucker asked about you." "...he did?" "Mhm, he asked how you were doing, and said he saw you laying out pathways on the island."

Jing Yuan: He finds it so cute when you ask him to play. Lowkey like Blade where he likes watching your happy expressions when playing. He's happy that this game provides him a way to relax while not getting bored. Secretly an enjoyer of villager drama: "Wolfgang wants to apologize to Audie with this present. What happens if I don't deliver it?" "Again? Ah, just give it to her quickly." "...what if I don't." "...Jing Yuan." Oddly I feel like he'd enjoy the group stretching (what an old man), and encourages you to join. Like the "Dozing General" he is, there will be times when he's inactive and gets the bed head.

Luocha: You weren't expecting him to enjoy the game, but he's surprisingly willing to be resourceful. His storage is full of materials, which you scold him for because this is the reason for his empty undecorated house. But he always has things you need so you can't exactly complain. Also one to be pretty smart with managing bells and resources, able to maximize their worth. When the island gets visitors like Label or Flick, he has items ready. "Luocha... where did you get that coat?" "This? It's a designer piece, from Miss Label." I'd say he does have a sense of beauty in design, so thankfully your island is gorgeous.

Sampo: Sympathizes with Redd like a true scammer. "Aw look, he just needs a bit of money to get started... he even gave us a 'cousin's discount'." However, a rivalry starts with Redd when Sampo's first art piece turned out to be fake (scammer gets scammed moment). He asks if he can be the salesman that he's supposed to be. When villagers run up to him to offer bells for an item he has, he accepts thinking it'll get him a deal along the way. Unfortunately friendship gets you nowhere in terms of home loans. I'd say he's pretty good with the turnip stonks, so there's a balance. Also TRASH ISLAND. I'm sorry, but your man is a hoarder, "But what if I need this?" (Literally me.)

Welt: When you ask him to play he asks why the animals are crossing. He finds the style and characters are so cute, and he can see why you enjoy it. This is definitely a way he gets in touch with his "youthful" side. He loves the creative freedom in the game, even getting indecisive about how to design your island, and thinking of what outfit to wear. He once made a simple t-shirt for fun, but was surprised when he saw a villager wearing it. It'd be so cute and funny when he learns new emotes- and he just spams them with a straight face. Not gameplay related, but I feel like in his free time he'd draw you both in villager form <3.

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[pressureplus]

I actually have this request in my head for a while now... but I'm not sure if you be up to do it so thank to let me know if you will do it or not. Fem! Reader who is happily married and live together with Sebastian (when he still human). Until, Sebastian was arrested and sentence to dead. Reader found no long after his dead that she was pregnant. Years later, Sebastian manage to escape Hadal Blacksite probably very injured in the process. He was soon spotted by the kid that look similar to his human self (the kid probably be now close to be a teenager now), as the kid call up their mother. Sebastian was shocked to see his wife come to view.

I'm looking 👀

Love this dramatic shit, I'm SO here for it!

I'm going to be referring to your son as S/N, so y'all can name your boy yourselves! (I'm real interested in the stuff you might choose, so if you wanna put them in the replies, I'd love to see your baby names!)

Smaller Hands

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: [Unnamed]

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, an Absent Father, injury, and Imprisonment

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞���ི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had been running a very long time before he got to where he was now.

Escaping the Blacksite was only the beginning of his long, long journey home. He had wrestled himself from the depths of the deep ocean and fought his way all the way up to the light far, far above him.

Breaking through the surface of the water had provided him with a hope he never thought he'd see truly grow into something he could really hold. Sunlight and open air and a horizon that stretched endlessly in every direction... Sebastian hadn't known freedom in over 10 years, but there it was.

The way the natural light caught the glint of his wedding ring had him already tearing through the water with a grin, energy back in his tired body. It certainly wasn't his original ring, no, that one wouldn't fit on his new, much larger hand anymore, but the replacement that he got so he could wear a ring on his hand and not just as a pendant was enough of a visual reminder of his love, sending him treading the water the way this body was made to do. He had to get to his wife.

He had to see his Y/N again. That's always what his efforts were for.

It was days before he even reached a beach, and weeks of dragging himself through the shadows and the alleyways, keeping himself out of sight. He would squint at road maps and try to figure out how he was going to get himself home, not very well able to get on the public transport or drive himself there with a body like this. He had to be more than a little creative with how he was going to cross the countless miles between his lover and himself if he wanted to make it there at all. He'd spend his seemingly endless days hopping trains and swimming rivers just to close the distance faster, like it may wash away the last decade he's had to go without her.

Sebastian could only hope she waited for him, though those chances were next to none. She had been there the day he was 'executed', watching him get taken back to the chair that was supposed to put his story to its end. She has every right and reason to think he died that day, and he could never be angry or upset if she decided she still needed to be held the way his other hands used to hold her... Would these hands even fit her anymore? They'd outgrown his first ring... Would they be too big to hold hers anymore? The painful thought was a reoccurring one, and it plagued every dream he had in the moments he would manage to rest.

He's nearing his old cottage now, beaten and scarred from the long trip home, more than a little bit tired and definitely hungry. He's barely going to make it if he manages to get to the doorstep at all, but more thankful than ever he'd made his home with her outside of the city and out into the woods so he might have a moment to his thoughts. He could very well find her with another man, or he could find a completely new family, or even find nothing but flowers and trees- The life that he made with her could be all but ashes on a breeze that swept this place years ago. She could be a memory and this could all be for nothing just as easily as anything else. He wouldn't even have a right to be angry... He wouldn't even feel a right to cry if she's decided to move on.

"SNAKE MAN! SNAKE MAN!!!"

He's shaken from his pondering by an unfamiliar voice, a starry eyed child fumbling out of the bushes like a little animal.

He nearly panics and flees before the brave, feral little boy reaches out for his hand and looks up at him like something right out of a story book- Which, he supposed may be fair given the way that he looks now.

"Are you a forest monster!? Do you grant wishes and eat people and stuff?!" It's clear the boy doesn't know fear, young and small still, with new eyes... But familiar ones.

Sebastian's heart drops into his stomach when he begins to recognize the thick, dark hair and deep brown eyes. This boy is the spitting image of the way he looked when he was around 10 or 11... It's like he's been pulled right from Sebastian's old childhood photos.

Too dumbfounded to speak, Sebastian stands there, every muscle in his body tense while his eyes flick around the boy's face trying to figure out how this could be.

"S/N! What are you doing talking to strangers, you were supposed to be at least playing in the yard and not the woods before the sun started setting." Y/N rounds the trees with a stubborn look on her face and immediately freezes when her gaze meets Sebastian's.

The air is knocked out of the both of them, leaving them only able to stare, and he notes the way she's remained nearly the same as the day that he was forced to leave her behind. Like a flower that never wilts, she stands as beautiful and as amazing as she was when he had first met her. Frozen with an expression he can't place, she makes no motion to do anything at all. The larger man acts first at the realization she must be frightened of him, going to put his two unheld hands up and open his mouth to explain himself-

"You said not to talk to strangers, this is CLEARLY a forest monster." Little S/N beats both of them to the punch and confirms to Sebastian all at once that his attitude is as strong in his blood as that unruly dark hair is.

"Heed your mother, would you? I could very well eat you." Sebastian ushers the child forward with a playful threat, the boy in reference pouting and looking back up at him.

"Come on, I'm only out a little bit late! It's not dark yet! Monsters only eat people in the dark." The boy argues, unfamiliar with the idea of real danger, it seems, but certain of himself the way only children really can be.

"Sebastian I can't believe it... Is it you? Am I losing my mind?" Putting the scolding and corrections on her son's statements off for a better time, Y/N looks up at the mutated form of her lover, hoping she might be right. When Y/N speaks, it's soft and uncertain, a hand going to rest on her child's shoulder so as not to lose him while she's distracted.

"You recognize me?" His heart practically jumps into his throat and he struggles to cope with how quickly she's guessed it was him.

"If not for the way one soul knows another, then for your voice and... Our ring." Unafraid just as well, she walks right up to the towering creature and brings her hand up to the necklace it's strung onto around his neck.

"Am I too late?" Sebastian asks, still scared.

"You're late, but never too much. You had better come home now though." She gets firm near the end and he laughs, melting.

"Awe that's no fair! I'm in trouble for being a few minutes late and he gets to be gone forever!" The boy whines and Y/N seems to laugh when she ruffles his hair.

"You can be out of trouble because it's a special day. Now, let's go home and get you to bed." Y/N's eyes stray back up to her husband, the fondness that was there in those beautiful eyes he fell in love with was something that had grown blurry and hard to recall until now. The way her gaze rested on him so softly brought him back like he'd never left in the first place.

"I think I have some things to talk about with your monster, here." She smiles at him and goes to slide her hand into his, the cold feeling against his palm of her own ring -the matching one to his from the promise that they'd made at that altar a long time ago- made him feel warm again, and made him feel alive.

"Yes, I've got a lot of things I've been waiting to tell her for these years we've spent apart."

[surftrips]

CROSS YOUR HEART AND HOPE TO DIE

pairing: young coriolanus snow x reader

word count: 600+

summary: based on "follow you" by bring me the horizon. young/slightly ooc coriolanus snow finds comfort in y/n's arms.

a/n: yeah, i can't believe i'm returing from my hiatus with a coriolanus snow x reader fic, but here we are. please feel free to send in prompts/requests with him though ;)

"Because I don't want to fucking hurt you.” Coriolanus snapped. "God, half the time, I'm scared I could break you, even though I'm doing everything I can to hold back."

Your boyfriend was having a hard time lately. The anniversary of his father's death was creeping up and you knew he was having those thoughts again.

He had confided in you early on in your relationship his two biggest fears: losing you, and turning into his father. Now, he was spiraling with thoughts of both happening.

"Talk to me," you said, trying to reassure him. The two of you were by the lake, entangled in each other's arms on a blanket.

"I- I just..." he was trying to catch his breath. "I'm so angry all the time and you, you're an angel. You've never done anything wrong in your life. I don't deserve you, I don't know how to not fuck this up."

You couldn't help but smile at his name for you, reaching out to caress his cheek. He leaned into your familiar touch, one of the few things that could calm him down when he was like this.

It was true, he did get mad at the smallest things. Just last week, he got jealous of Sejanus for holding up your skirt as you went down the stairs, even though the two of you were clearly just friends.

And yesterday, he was frustrated with something that happened during training and came back to the cabin furious. You had asked him how his day was, like usual, and he had snapped at you.

"It was bad. Do you have to ask me that everyday?" he retorted, knocking over the items on the shelf closest to him.

But even though he got jealous or angry sometimes, you knew that he was working on it. He always felt awful afterward, and always made sure that you knew how sorry he was. That night, he had drawn a bath for you and even added some wild lavender he found near the water.

"Hey, you know I love you, right?" you said.

He sat up slightly to make better eye contact with you, "I do. But what if that's not enough?"

You frowned, "My love isn't?"

"No, no. I meant what if love, in general, is not enough? What if that's not enough to change my fate? Y/N, you know about my father, he was awful."

"I know, Coryo," you sighed. "But I also know you, and you're a good person. You love me, you love the Covey. You care about me, and your family. You want to be good, and I think that is enough."

Still, he didn't seem convinced. "I hate that I can barely remember him anymore, but he's still haunting me. The rebels that killed him haunt me. What if that happens to me?"

"Stop. No one here is going to do that, they know you're on our side. Don't you see? You're trying so hard to not be like your father, but you don't have to try to be good. You just are, deep-down in here," you pointed to where his heart is. "You are."

He leaned down now to pull you into a kiss. "Angel, can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"Promise me you'll never leave my side."

"Coryo, you could drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. We're in this together."

That seemed to please him, finally. He wrapped his arms tighter around you and pulled you to lay back down with him. The two of you stared up at the stars, each silently wishing for this to work out.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 1}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: But what is there to miss at the end of the world? It depends on the person, but you? You would do anything for decent kitchen gadgets, something you let slip to your routine patrol partner, one Joel Miller.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: canon typical violence (later chapters), canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, pining, unrequited feelings, joel a little daft in this, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, head injury, reader bonks her head, mild concussion, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, jealousy, two (2) instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting. fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name

A/N: home on bed rest today after a cortisone shot and i was reading through the draft for this when the words all came together for the first installment and i'm super excited to share it with y'all ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Joel Miller was a quiet man, not quick to engage in conversation beyond the pleasantries of greeting someone as he crossed paths with them, or asking after the issues people bring to his attention. Not quick to divulge his personal activities or words of his past. But he was willing to help anyone who approached him, the list on the spiral notepad in his back pocket never ending. Every single pair of the man’s pants held the same distressed markings, a testament to how he never left home without it wedged into the fabric.

But you wouldn’t admit to having noticed such a small thing.

The man’s pants were none of your concern, truly. As someone who regularly patrolled with him, would wave to him throughout the town’s streets and gatherings though he would seldom return it, his attention pulled toward someone wishing to interact with him. But that didn’t mean you weren’t aware of the faded lines along the denim stretched over his backside.

Almost as if were a secret you held to yourself much like the fondness you found pulling at your lips every time you mounted your horse alongside him and left through the gates.

The man in question held out a thermos to you, steam rising from the top of it where he had left it open to breath. The early morning carrying a slight chill despite the birds chirping happily and the buds beginning to bloom along the trees around the town.

“So, I know you’re good with a shotgun,” His rich baritone washed over you, warming you faster than the coffee he had taken the time to brew and the rising sun, barely cresting over the horizon now. “But what do you like to do to fill your time?”

“Like…for fun? Or to make the day go by?” You quirked an eyebrow, looking sideways at Joel as he rode a few paces ahead, he knew the trail by heart at this point. The same one you always did this time of the month, a routine set in stone that allowed you a pocket of alone time with him outside the town’s walls.

“Either. Both.”

“Um, well it’s not so easy now, but cooking, making things for people to enjoy.” You took a tentative sip, slurping accidentally as you realized it was still a touch too hot for the sensitive skin of your lips. You sputtered, droplets of the hot liquid flecking along the saddle and back of the appaloosa’s neck. The sweet mare startled, halting in her steps. The sudden stop causing you to knock the top of the thermos to your chin, more of the hot liquid finding your lips.

“Fu- c’mon Lowry, you know I didn’t mean to get ya!” You lightly scolded, tugging on the collar of your button up to wipe at your now throbbing face. You felt heat flood you, fluttering in your stomach as you realized how embarrassing a sight you just put on for the man beside you. But he wasn’t chuckling with that deep rumble he tended to do sometimes. Instead, he was calmly urging his own steed to come to a stop.

He dismounted, coming up beside you. He had a clean kerchief in his hand that he was holding out to you. You had no idea where he pulled it from, his jacket pockets were zipped closed. At least, they looked like it as your eyes had roved over his form ahead of you. Once you wiped the coffee from your face, he was moving closer, causing your heart to flutter.

“Lemme see,” His thick fingers were brushing your bottom lip and you froze. His eyes were focused on the way they looked irritated, catching the soft morning light. You tried to hide the way your breath hitched, but you were sure it puffed against his thumb, giving your nervousness away. He had never been so forward before, only spare instances of hands and thighs brushing against each other over the months you’ve been paired with him. “Doesn’t look too bad, sweetheart.”

As quickly as he had reached out, he was moving away with a lingering brush of his hand along your chin, an unreadable expression on his face. All you could do was nod an affirmative, feeling heat bloom in your chest and the swell of your cheeks.

Lowry knickered, bobbing her head. Joel’s hand then reached out and caressed the side of her face, gentle sounds humming from his chest.

“Were you a fancy, make it from scratch kinda cook or one that threw everythin’ in a crock pot and played the waiting game?” He turned his head to the side, catching your eye. A small grin you weren’t sure how to read pulling at his plush lips. “I was pretty hopeless in the kitchen, made a lot of spaghetti and had a lot of cereal.”

“Oh, um, from scratch.” You thought back to the meals you would create, the flavor profiles you would put together. “But that’s not so bad, sometimes routine is good, I’m sure you needed the carbs and protein to do….carpentry?”  

“Contracting, actually.”

“I had a contractor scheduled to look into a re-do of my kitchen, but they never showed. It was such a letdown; he came so highly recommended. But I guess it was just too big of a project for him.”

“Nah, was probably just a matter of supply and demand.” He easily comforted you. “Kitchens are a lot of work. Especially if the design is for someone who spends a lot of time in the room. Need all kinda gadgets for that, hmm?”

“Typically, which is why it can be such a hassle nowadays. But it’s a small price to pay for being so safe in town. The loss of a good cutting board or sturdy utensils is a good trade for the life we have.”

Joel only hummed in response, and you felt like you had spoken too much. Opened up in the wrong way to the man back in front of you, his horse trotting along happily.

He didn’t ask you any more questions as the route was made and you didn’t try to bridge the gap, feeling foolish for voicing your rather naïve loss of kitchenware. You often has small conversations of a similar fashion, a simple question. Not too focused, general. Easy going subjects that allowed you glimpses of each other.

Later that night, Joel stood in the doorway of his workspace.

He had just stepped out of the shower, washing the long hours of the day from his shoulders. Ellie had left a plate of what she deemed dinner for him with a note before she had taken off for the night.

‘Gotta keep your mind sharp, old man. Here’s some dinner cause I know you didn’t stop to eat all day.’

She had even included a smiley face with downturned eyebrows, the little shit. And it made him realize he needed to set some time aside for another guitar lesson, just the two of them. A day on the porch in the warm sun while it was still the season for it. It was well into Autumn, the leaves changing into rich colors all around the town and in the forests beyond the walls.

But not seeing her didn’t feel like the worst thing because it had been a productive day. Patrol with you, then helping Tommy to work through foundation of a few new houses. The town was growing and he was glad to help, never having even dared to dream of a place such as this before he had quite literally stumbled upon it nearly a year ago.

Eyes trailing over everything he had neatly organized in the room. The different, albeit only a handful, types of wood he had accumulated with the help of the council. There was an ancient sawmill in one of the town’s buildings, used to help cut downed trees to turn them into lumber for construction. Tommy had been able to help them run diagnostics on it once he had become a part of the population, his shared past with his brother allowing for him to have the knowledge to maintenance it and get it in operating form.

He wasn’t sure what wood was typically used for kitchenware, nor was he sure he had a food safe sealant. But he was going to inspect everything in town, mind working overtime as he removed the small spiral notebook from his back pocket and began writing down his thoughts as they bubbled up.

Spatulas

Serving spoons

Rolling pins

Spoon rests

Cutting boards

Joel underlined the last one, knowing what a vision it would be to see you lovingly stood at the counter in his kitchen making a meal for a shared dinner. And excited smile on your face, explaining the details of the recipe you were working on. And he would listen to every word, even if he didn’t understand. To see the brightness of your soft smile as you shared parts of yourself with him. He rather liked that you had become his regular patrol partner, you could read the moods he felt. If he was open to conversation, if he needed little quips to keep him on his toes, if he had had a small argument or disagreement with Ellie and needed to either stew or hash it out.

You were good and he wanted to use his aching hands to not only provide for the town, but to provide for you as well.

The rest of the week passed easily, another patrol alongside Joel having occurred. But he had been rather quiet, in his head for most of the silent trip around the settlement. You hadn’t thought much of it, in your own thoughts as well. Made okay by the pair of thermoses of coffee he had brought along for you both indulge in. An easy-going rapport built up between the two of you, one where the sharing of such a commodity was matched.

Upon taking the first tentative sip, he had assured you it wasn’t as hot as last time.

The strong heat it lacked seemed to bloom across your cheeks, recalling the last time he had handed it to you. The whisper of his fingers against your lip as he inspected it for burns making it hard to look at the man watching you take a drink, ensuring that it really was cool enough to not harm you.

Smiling to yourself at the memory, you made your way through the streets and into the front of the town, toward the collection of shops with a list in your pocket. But all thoughts of productivity were halted when you spotted him.

Joel’s broad back was visible even from down the main street. Busy working on repairing a sign for one of the shops that fronted along it. The sawhorses he had propped up supported the new frame he was building according to predetermined measurements. You watched as he leaned down to read something along the wood, pencil tucked behind his ear, a tape measure carefully stretched out. His hand patted at his back pocket, the sound making heat bloom in your stomach and dive lower as suddenly as the sound.

Someone shouted his name before you could even form your lips around the sound of his name, his head lifting up and looking right past you to whoever it had been. Your half-raised hand feeling awkward, and a wave of embarrassment whooshed through you. You shoved your hand in your pocket and kept on your path, though you had no true reason to be on this side of town. The only one you had now occupied with someone else.

You didn’t dare look his way or see who it was who called to him as you crossed the street and began to inspect the fruit out on display. The first tentative crops of the season had done decently enough and then flourished. Apples aplenty. The trees so fruitful this year. Reprimanding yourself for entertaining the thought of ambling around, you decided to actually get a few errands done. You were out already, after all.

You had signed your name along the inventory and the weight of the apples you deemed worthy of being backed into a pie when a bark of laughter had you whirling around. He was working no longer, attention pulled to the woman standing closely in front of him. Joel’s hand cupped over her shoulder. His expression was so open, his eyes kind and trained on her. She reached up to brush some sawdust from his curls and you bolted.

But you hadn’t looked.

And you ran right into the end of the wooden boards Tommy had balanced on his shoulder as he walked down the street. Pain blossomed on the corner of your forehead at the contact, balance suddenly gone along with it. The canvas bag of apples flies from your grip, bouncing around the packed gravel of the street just as your body thumps to the ground.

A pair of voices pulled you back from unconsciousness. A dull ache reverberating from your temple and you groaned as you brought a hand up to gently prod at the spot. You were in your bed, a small thing to be grateful for. Not too fond of the small medical center set up in the middle of town, right off of main street. Tommy’s steps were quiet as they came down the hall, his voice preceding his entrance.

“You awake, Olive? What had you so distracted? You walked right into me.” His strong brows were furrowed, concern etched into his weather features. His curls bouncing with his steps as he came to rest on the end of your bed. He wasn’t teasing, question genuine and worry wafting from him as he reached a hand out to jostle your foot atop the covers.

“Shut up, Tommy. I was lookin’ at my feet.” You felt heat creep up your face, recalling the way you had been ogling his older brother and then gotten so worked up that the man had been touching another woman so causally. It shouldn’t have bothered you, it was really none of your business.

Sensing the serious hush of your words, Tommy regarded you with sharp eyes.

“It’s not like you to not be aware of your surroundings. Please tell me what happened?”

“Nothing happened.” You kept his gaze, eyes not giving anything away as you moved to sit up. But it was too fast a movement, the momentum of your balance thrown off as your temple throbbed. A hissed curse fell from your lips.

“…okay. Well, you’re off from patrol tomorrow, to rest that bump on your pretty little head, okay?”

“I can do patrol.” You felt panic flare hot in your chest, worried for the reason of losing your time with Joel out beyond the gates and not because the man in front of you thought your injury was serious enough to take you off of rotation.

“Honey, you smacked your head into some lumber. Don’t think you need to be on a horse right now, just take the day, okay? For me?” When you looked back up, he was making big eyes at you, knowing you couldn’t resist his kicked puppy routine.

“Tommy, do not look at me like that.”

“Can’t blame me for using it when I know it makes you crumble.” A upturn of his lips on one side allowed for a dimple to appear. Maria was a lucky woman, though you knew that for all the strength and seriousness she possessed, she was no match for the same look aimed her way.

“You’re a butt.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and settling into the pillows even more.

“Yeah,” He stood from the bed and walked over place a bottle of aspirin on the small table you kept beside it. “But you like it.”

“Not when it’s aimed at me.”

The apples you had tried to get yesterday were on the counter down the hall when you finally got up from the bed. It was late, well into the night but sleep wasn’t coming easily. The echo of Joel’s easy laughter and voice from across the street as he talked with the woman in your ears.

With the warm light of your kitchen, you washed away your worries and thoughts by beginning to mix together a dough. Letting it set to rise for a bit as you washed a circular pan, cut the apples into thin slices, and prepared a mix of seasonings. Creating something with the energy flowing through you that had no other outlet.

You had just made a kettle of tea, body tired from the out-of-routine events of the last twelve hours and allowing you to sleep well past the rising of the sun. A distant thought of now being about the time you would be approaching the gates and waiting for them to allow you back in.

Curling your legs up, you had just settled into the couch with a book and your mug when a knock sounded on your front door. Startling, you felt your heart hammer harshly a few times before you stood back up and moved toward it.

You weren’t sure who you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Joel in his post patrol glory. His curls were windswept, some of them frizzing and creating a hallow around his head. His cheeks were a little dusty from the strong rays of the early morning sun, illuminating his golden skin in a rather eye-catching way.  

“Hey, sorry, did I wake you?” One of his hands was resting on the doorway, his jacket pulled open as it rested over his shoulders unzipped. Broad, your mind helpfully pointed out. He took up nearly the entire doorway, the sun behind him and his face lit up from the open windows of your living room. Shadows making it obvious how big of a man he was.

“Oh, um, no. I was just starting to get up and about.” You stepped out of the way, a silent invitation for him to enter your home. He had only been a handful of times before. To fetch Ellie as she waited for him to return from a later patrol, not wanting to be in the main part of his house alone. Or to help fix something that had begun to have problems. There had always been a reason and you were trying to figure out the current one. “Do you want some tea? I just made a kettle of orange spice.”

He followed you through the living room after ensuring the door was securely sealed. As he did you were made aware of the oversized cardigan you had thrown on over a camisole, sweatpants that were too big fastened around your waist.

“Missed ya on patrol this morning,” He took the offered mug, taking a tasting sip before offering you a grateful smile. You knew he wasn’t big on tea, but this one you suspected would pass the test. His voice was low, velvety smooth in that drawl of his. It warmed you up, filling your chest. And for a second, you thought he meant it. “Jesse was the replacement. That boy sure does have a mouth on him, prattled on and on about I don’t even know what.”

Only for a second, because of course he would prefer you to one of the younger members of the settlement alongside him.

“I was just feeling a little under the weather,” You averted your eyes from his, roving up and down your form at your words. A glint of something behind them you couldn’t read. He didn’t buy it, the flimsy excuse. You could tell because one of his brows arched and that damned dimple appeared in his right cheek as his lips lifted up in a teasing smirk.

“Not tryna get away from me, are ya?” That same, syrupy drawl coasted you and made your movements slow. There was an undertone of something in his words that you tried not to read too much into. He was just joking, right?

As if you could even try. He was a staple of the town, from his physical presence at every important meeting to the things he fixed. Pieces of him, of the life he had created for himself and for Ellie prominent all around.

“No, ah- ha, this is so embarrassing but,” You busied yourself with finding a small enough container to send him home with a piece of the pie sitting uncut on the table. Having been left to cool after your late night baking escapade. Setting it down beside the pan, you picked up the knife you had taken out just before Joel knocked on your door, intending to cut into it at some point during the day. “I hit my head yesterday and Tommy insisted I take the day off.”

“Are you alright?” He was stepping close, one of his hands coming up to gently brush your hair away from your face while the other took the knife from your hand and set it back on the table. Eyes searching for any sign of the injury, his lips thinning when they landed on the bruise on your temple you had tried to hide. It had mottled overnight, into a dark purple, faded around the edges of the raised bump in the middle. His thumb whispered against it, causing you to suck in a deep breath full of the smell of him. His chest was so close that it brushed against your own with it, his face was so close that you could see the individual hairs of his salt and pepper scruff, the freckles decorating his weathered skin.

Dizzying, it was so dizzying to be that close.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he was suddenly leaning in even closer. His head ducking to allow for his lips to softly brush over the bruise, not wanting to agitate it but wanting to soothe.

“There,” His breath fanned over your face, the lingering scent of coffee along with it. And then he was stepping back, his hands dropping from where they had cradled you. “All better.”

The sunlight was soft, streaming in through the kitchen window. Illuminating a rich, thick cut of mahogany. Stepping closer towards the counter, your hands twitch as if to reach and run over the expanse of the smooth wood. It was carved to be a perfect shape and size, small feet propping it up from the counter directly. Little flowers engraved in the corners and protected by a sheen of sealant. It was beautiful and you blinked quickly to stave off the tears surging at the sight.

He did it. He listened to you.

Footsteps had you turned from it, hips meeting the edge of the counter as you tried to act like you hadn’t been admiring the new addition to the home casually laid out for people to see.

Tommy had a bottle in his hands, wine he had found on a recent patrol that he thought you’d like. But as soon as he entered the room, he clocked that you had gotten up from your spot, what you were next to.

“Who knew my brother would end up making decorative pieces in the apocalypse, huh?”

“I don’t know him well enough to agree, we only patrol together.” Smooth words didn’t betray the way you pictured the man seated and concentrating on carving into the block of wood to create something so beautiful. His large hands gripping the handles of tools you couldn’t even begin to name, brushes to wipe away the shavings, to slather the sealant over it. The striking sound of sandpaper fills your senses along with the scent of freshly carved wood.

A lingering one you could often catch if Joel was close enough, of rich cedar mingled with whatever he used to wash. Culminating into how he always smelled, signature, familiar. Easy to pick out in a crowd and no it was him. Blinking, you focused back in the present, reigning in your thoughts of a man you had no business thinking after in such a manner.

He was a patrol partner. An acquaintance.

“Oh hush, Olive, you know him more than most.”

You just hummed, eyes looking everywhere but at the man across the room. He busied himself pouring a drink into two glasses. Just as you took a sip, Maria entered the room with Joel right behind her, shoulders laden down with canvas bags. Seems they had been out, and he decided to walk her home, protective even on unsure ground with the woman deep into her pregnancy.

“It really is beautiful Joel, already have a few requests for them from some people around town.” Maria joined in the conversation, noticing the way that Joel’s eyes had zoned in on the piece of wood settled atop the counter. As if he was seeing each mistake and wrong shave of the wood even from across the room. He moved to place the bags he had taken from her atop the table, nodding a greeting at you as he realized you were right beside the thing he had tried his hand at creating. Spurred on by your little tangent weeks ago.

“Not really lookin’ to make that my pastime, yours was just a trial run.” Joel shrugged the words off, the praise off, like he so often did. Even when the haphazard crew he worked with completed repairs on a building or created a new one from the ground up, it was always the same response. A brush of the direct compliment to everyone who worked on it together, even if it was his plans and his hands that had played a part in the whole thing.

“Don’t even know where you got the idea, brother, such a random thing to think to make.” Tommy moved to press his lips to Maria’s cheek in greeting before helping her to put things away.

Your eyes snapped to Joel, willing him to admit that it hadn’t been his idea, but your own. It was silly, really, to want his immediate family to know that you two had talked, shared things with each other that resulted in an item that was now a part of their life. Pointless, no real connection except for the one made up in your mind and an overinflated sense of importance. Just a throwaway comment when you recalled the difference good cooking supplies could make. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, his hands deep in his pockets and his shoulder hunched.

“Jus’ came to me, one night, is all.”

Your chest panged at his indifference; it didn’t have to mean anything. But it meant something: that he didn’t want to reveal that he had opened up to you once upon a time on patrol. That he had listened to you as you had done the same. Couldn’t let others know that he was open to genuine conversation sometimes. Or maybe just that it was with you, someone he tended to look over in the crowds of gatherings and events, more often than not You huffed around a mouthful of wine and set the still half full glass down.

“I’m shoving off, see y’all later.”

“Oh wait, I wanted to see if we could trade patrols. Kinda why I brought out the bribe of wine.” Tommy turned wide eyes to you, knowing the whole set up of his favor was being thwarted by the arrival of his wife and brother. It was easier to ask you of things alone, not that you were known to turn them down, but you preferred to stay under the radar. Avoid direct attention, direct recognition for the things you accomplished and helped with around town. For the way you always made sure the elderly got home safe after important meetings and children who got turned around were reunited with their guardians.

“….which patrol?” You tried to hide the suspicion in your voice, positive he was about to ask you to do the overnight route with Joel in his place that would happen in a few days’ time. Something you didn’t do. Ever. Overnight routes something you didn’t have the wherewithal to handle, not since you had lost your last connection to what the world had been before. It had been relatively soon after settling into Jackson when it had happened, a handful of years ago now, but Tommy nor Maria had ever even thought to ask it of you.

You supposed they figured with Joel having settled in nicely himself the past year, that it was time to consider broaching the subject.

“Teton.” Joel supplied when Tommy choked, unable to voice his request. Knowing they would all be standing there for a few moments for the younger man to find his words between your almost fearful look and the suspicious one Maria was pinning him with as she looked from you to the wine and toward to her fumbling husband.

“Oh, um, I haven’t done that one in a long while. I don’t do the overnight routes, you know that. Surely you wanna find someone who’s done it more recently? Someone who does it regularly.”

“Think-you, uh, you’re about ready.” He managed to get out, his body no longer relaxed but picking up and responding to the way you had tensed up. The way his brother had. Feeding off of each other’s energy in a way he couldn’t begin to understand, but wanting to assure you that he had confidence in your skills and knowledge. Despite the things that had occurred for you to only stick to the same routine of early morning patrols a week.

“Tommy…” You didn’t feel particularly comfortable being asked in front of Joel. You don’t think he knew, had any idea of how had lost yourself. Rumors ran rampant around the settlement, but you hoped that those surrounding you had dwindled down to nothing but recent events. You knew for a fact Marsha liked to say you put too much sugar in your pie fillings, trying to hook everyone onto them with a heavy hand. But it wasn’t your fault that her pies always got looked over when yours was set right beside hers.  

“I know you have your reservations, Olive. And I understand,” Tommy watched the stilted way you downed the rest of your wine, setting the empty glass atop the counter with careful movements. “But it would mean a lot to me if you covered this one time.”

With a sigh, you agreed.

Ignoring the weight of Joel’s curious eyes as they followed you out of the kitchen.

Thoughts a whirlwind as you tried to flee the seen without it being obvious that you wanted to be anywhere but in that kitchen with two pairs of apologetic, concerned eyes and one that held curiosity.

next chapter

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @merz-8 @morning-star-joy @joelsgreys @orcasoul @sawymredfox @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag @pascalpvnk @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @idontknowyou-12345 @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld

[eu-nicola]

sand part 2

summary: Rafe got a new haircut and that catches your attention

warnings: mentions of smut but actually nothing cus i’m to poetic

word counter: 2591

author's note: english is not my first language

tags: @juliwzy @sweetgoldwoman

The nights after the party passed in a blur, but the image of Rafe Cameron was still there, fixed in your mind like a tattoo that couldn't be erased. You had tried everything to get him out of your head: staying busy, spending time with your friends, even going surfing for the adrenaline that used to distract you from everything. Nothing worked.

On one hand, you were grateful that you hadn't seen him since that night. You didn't know what you would say if you found him or, worse yet, what you would do. But on the other hand, you wanted to see him. Now that you had crossed that line, that invisible barrier that had always kept your paths separate, you were consumed by the need to know how far you could go.

Every time someone mentioned his name, a knot formed in your stomach. On those occasions, you pretended disinterest, as if you didn't care at all what he did or where he was. But inside, curiosity ate away at you.

JJ and Pope had talked about him the day after the party. “Did you see how Rafe disappeared early?” Pope had asked, laughing. “He was probably too high to hold out.”

You had faked a smile and changed the subject quickly, but the truth was that Pope’s words only fueled your thoughts. You had been the one who had disappeared with Rafe, and even though the night hadn’t gone past that desperate kiss, the memory of it was enough to keep you up at night.

There was something about the way he had kissed you, like he was letting go of everything he couldn’t say. And there was something about the way you had responded to him, like you were finally admitting something you had been denying for a long time.

You tried not to think about it as you walked along the beach one afternoon, your bare feet sinking into the warm sand. The breeze was gentle, and the sound of the waves usually calmed you, but today it was no use. Your mind kept going back to him, to his face, to his voice, to how he had looked at you that night as if you were the only thing in the world.

You stopped and stared at the ocean, your hands clinging to the edges of your shirt. “What am I doing?” you muttered to yourself. Why couldn’t you just let it go? There was no future in this, you knew. He was a Kook, you a Pogue. Your worlds should never have crossed like that.

But they had.

And now, all you wanted was to cross that line again, to push the boundaries and find out how far you could go before everything fell apart.

You sat in the sand, hugging your knees as you stared at the horizon. Part of you expected to see him appear, his tall, familiar figure standing out among the shadows of the sunset. But he wasn't there. And, perhaps, it was for the best.

As the sun began to descend, you realized something: even if you tried to stay away, even if you tried to ignore what you felt, you knew that if you saw him again, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself. That night on the beach had changed something in you, and there was no turning back.

When you finally got up to head home, there was only one thing clear in your mind: no matter how much time passed or how wrong it might seem, you wanted to see him again. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you needed him.

Your wishes were sure to come true, the heat of the party filled the air, a mix of laughter, loud music, and the sound of the waves hitting the shore in the distance. The lights of the torches illuminated the beach. You had arrived, trying to distract yourself, as always. But as soon as you set foot on the sand, you felt it.

You didn't know if it was a sixth sense or just your bad luck, but you looked up and there he was. Rafe.

He was leaning against one of the tables near the bonfire, surrounded by some of his Kook friends. His relaxed and confident posture made him seem completely oblivious to the chaos the party brought with it, but you knew better. You knew what was behind that facade, and that made everything harder.

His eyes met yours, and your heart skipped a beat so hard it almost hurt. There was something about that look of his that disarmed you, as if he could read every thought, every emotion you tried to hide.

You tried to look away, to feign disinterest, but you couldn’t. Your eyes kept coming back to him like they were drawn by a magnet. And the worst thing was that Rafe knew it. The slight tilt of his lips into a cocky smirk told you that he understood exactly what was going through your mind.

You hated yourself for it, for giving him the power to make you feel this way, so vulnerable and so exposed. But at the same time, a part of you wanted him. You wanted him to come to you, to take control, to end this tension that had been consuming you since that night.

You grabbed a glass of something strong from a nearby table and took a long drink, hoping the burn in your throat would distract you. But not even the alcohol could drown out the fire you felt inside you. Not when you could feel his eyes on you, following you as you moved through the crowd.

You tried to keep yourself busy, dancing with your friends, pretending that the music was enough to drown out the thoughts that filled your mind. But no matter what you did, you always felt him there, watching you. And every time you dared to look up, there he was, his eyes locked on yours, like he was waiting for you to do something, anything.

Your breathing quickened as heat crept up your neck. You couldn’t go on like this. You couldn’t keep feeling this way, like you were on the edge of something and he held the key to push you over the edge.

You took another drink, shorter this time, and set the glass down on a table. You didn’t know what the hell you were doing, but your feet carried you a little closer to where he was. Just a few steps, nothing too obvious. Enough for him to know you weren’t running away, but not so much that it looked like you were running towards him. 

Rafe noticed the movement, of course. His lips curved into a wider smile, and he left his spot by the table. He started walking towards you, with that relaxed confidence that he’d always hated and, at the same time, silently admired. 

When he finally got to where you were, the noise of the party seemed to fade away. He looked at you with that intensity that made your skin crawl, and you stood still, as if you were caught in his orbit. 

“Are you going to keep staring at me like that all night, or are you going to say something?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but loud enough for you to hear over the music. 

“And what do you want me to say?” You tried to sound defiant, but even you could hear the slight tremor in your voice.

“Stop pretending.” His smile disappeared, and his expression became serious, almost defiant. “I know what you’re thinking. I can see it in your eyes.”

Your breathing became heavier, but you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Because he was right, and you knew it.

“Say it,” he insisted, taking a step closer to you, so close you could feel the heat of his body. “Admit that you want it as much as I do.”

You didn’t respond with words. You couldn’t. Instead, you stared at him, letting your silence speak for you. And before you could stop yourself, you raised a hand and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you.

The kiss was like an explosion, a release of everything you’d been holding back since that night. There was no room for doubt or questions, only heat and the desperate need to feel him.

Rafe didn't waste any time. His hands settled on your waist, holding you tight against him as he deepened the kiss with an intensity that nearly took your breath away. It was like he was unloading everything he'd been holding back, and you did nothing but respond, letting him know that you needed him too.

The party continued around you, but it didn't matter. At that moment, there were only the two of you, two lost souls trying to find something in each other. And as your hands ran up his chest to his neck, you knew there was no turning back. You had crossed the line, and you didn't care where it took you.

The music turned into a distant murmur, a barely perceptible echo as your senses focused completely on him. Rafe didn't pull away from you, he didn't give you time to breathe or think; it wasn't necessary.

Suddenly, he stopped kissing you, just a few millimeters separating his lips from yours. His gaze pierced you like an electric shock. He leaned toward your ear, his voice low and husky, vibrating against your skin.

“Come with me.”

You didn’t ask where. There was no room for doubt at that moment. You simply nodded, and when he took your hand, you followed. His grip was firm, determined, like he knew exactly what he was doing, what he wanted from you.

He led you away from the crowd, away from the flickering lights and the bustle of the party. The sound of the waves grew louder, a steady, calming rhythm that contrasted with the chaos of your thoughts. You felt the cold sand beneath your bare feet and the brush of the wind on your skin, but all of that was secondary. The only thing that mattered was him.

Rafe stopped when you reached a secluded spot, where the darkness was thicker and the beach seemed to belong only to you. The moon hung in the sky like a silent witness, its light bathing his face in a pale glow that made his eyes seem even deeper.

There were no words, they weren’t needed. When his hands found your face, his fingers brushed your skin with a tenderness you didn’t expect. There was something in his gaze that completely disarmed you, a mix of desire and vulnerability you had never seen before.

Your hands clutched at his shirt, pulling him towards you, and when his lips found yours again, you knew there was no turning back.

The world disappeared as you gave yourself to him, every kiss and every caress erasing any doubt, any fear. His hands moved over your body as if he were memorizing you, as if he wanted to keep every detail in his mind. And you did the same, letting your fingers run over his back, his neck, his freshly cut hair that had enchanted you from the start.

There was no room for judgment, for the boundaries that had always kept your worlds apart. There, under the moonlight and the whisper of the waves, all that mattered was what you felt in that moment: the raw, intense connection, and the desperate need to be closer to him.

Rafe held you like you were something precious and fragile, but also like he wanted you with an urgency he couldn't control. And when his lips left yours to run down your neck, when his hands held you tighter, you understood that this was more than a whim, more than a simple attraction. It was something you couldn't name, something that consumed you from within.

That night, you lost yourself in him. In his caresses, in his voice that whispered your name like a prayer, in the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered. And when you finally gave yourself over completely, you knew that the line you had crossed no longer existed. It had been erased, swept away by the force of what you shared, leaving you in a place unknown but inevitably yours.

The night enveloped them in its blanket of stars and waves that whispered secrets. They spent hours there, away from the noise, the rules and the differences that separated them. The cold sand beneath your bodies mixed with the warmth of your skin, a reminder that you had crossed a boundary you didn't want to undo.

Rafe stayed by your side, his arm around your waist as if he was afraid you might disappear. You spoke in whispers, not caring about the time.

When exhaustion finally overcame you, Rafe pulled you close to him, and you snuggled into his chest. His steady, calm breathing was the last thing you heard before you fell asleep.

Morning came with the light of dawn bathing them in golden hues. You opened your eyes slowly, feeling the weight of his arm still on you. For a moment, everything seemed unreal, as if the previous night had been a dream you didn’t want to wake up from. But when you stirred, Rafe opened his eyes too, his slow, lazy smile making you feel an unexpected warmth in your chest.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“Morning,” you replied, feeling a shyness you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

There was a moment of comfortable silence before he began tracing circles on your arm with his fingers, as if it was something natural, something he’d done a thousand times before.

“What now?” you asked, trying to keep a light tone but knowing the question carried much more.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, that mischievous smile appearing on his face. “What do you mean by ‘what now’?”

“I mean… last night was…” You paused, searching for the right words. “…unexpected.”

He leaned into you, his eyes locked on yours as his smile widened. “Unexpected, huh? You didn’t seem that surprised.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile that was struggling to break out. “Oh, shut up.”

“Shut up?” Rafe sat up slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked at you in amusement. “That mouth of yours never stops talking, does it?”

You looked up at him, feigning indignation. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, leaning into you until his lips were a breath away from yours, “that you don’t have to say anything now.”

Before you could respond, he whispered against your lips, “Shut up, baby.”

And then he kissed you, his mouth taking yours with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the night before.

When he pulled away, just a little, he looked at you with that mix of amusement and something deeper that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “You know, you talk too much. But I think I can get used to it.”

[emilys-bangs]

Orion - #14 “I can’t believe you remembered.” I think Emily would remember the smallest details about the ones she’s closest to but gets surprised when someone does the same for her. Could really go any way! Could I just request some fluff for it though? Happy 200 followers! ❤️

Anon you are so so sososo right, ty for requesting <3 I’m so behind in finishing these but whatever I really loved the way this one turned out :) reader is down so bad (me)

Part of the 200 celebration

Word count: 0.9k

In all honesty, you don’t even know what makes you do it. It could be the crisp air, or the warm scent of just-baked pastries lifting your mood, making your shoulders go loose and light before you head to the BAU. 

But really, you think it’s the coffee. Freshly brewed and bitterly dark; it reminds you of a pair of eyes ringed with thick lashes, wide under feathery bangs that dip into the crevice between manicured brows. 

Just the thought of your coworker brings a heat to your body. You flush under your coat, hands clammy and warm as you reach the counter and order one coffee for you, one hot chocolate with extra cinnamon for Emily.

“And can I have two of those croissants?” You point to the pain au chocolates, thinking there’s no point in handing her a sweet drink without also getting anything to eat. Emily mentioned it a while back, when the two of you were on a stakeout. On cool fall mornings—any mornings, really, but especially those—she prefers a hot chocolate over a coffee, something sweet to give her that rush when the sun is just barely off the horizon. It wasn’t really surprising to hear—she has a sweet tooth to rival a young child’s. That said, you almost never see her with a cup in her hand; she comes in, almost every day, just a few minutes before what could be technically considered late.

You have a sinking suspicion that even if she did end up crossing the line one day, a pointed heel accidentally slipping over it, she’d be able to slither her way out of a reprimand, charming and sly. After all, it’s easy to fall prey to the entrancing curve of her lips, the half moons of her dimples gently digging their heels in ivory cheeks. 

The yell of your name breaks you out of your unwarranted daydreams. You blink and find yourself back in the warm bakery, enveloped in the scent of sugar and coffee beans.

God, you need to stop thinking about her.

Which proves difficult when you’re carrying her an armful of breakfast, a smile tingling at the corners of your lips whenever you catch your name scrawled on her paper cup. Pressing the elevator buttons is a struggle, but it’s one you don’t mind as you rise up to the sixth floor and something far more interesting than paperwork.

It’s only when you approach yours and Emily’s joint desks that you remember the others. Morgan and Reid lounge in their chairs, bickering about something you’re sure is too early to bicker about. JJ seems to be locked in her own office, but your stomach preemptively twists in knots at the thought of them seeing the handoff, your hands empty of treats for them.

You inhale a deep breath and keep your eyes forward, not chancing a glance at anyone but Emily, who looks up with a smile when she sees you approach. Distantly, you think it’s unusual that she’s here so early, but the thought evaporates when her eyes brighten.

“Morning,” she says, and her voice is already smooth honey, warm and inviting as you approach. Her eyes drop to the cup holder in your hand, the paper bag gripped between your fingers. “Got anything for me in there?” She teases.

Oh, only if you knew.

“Actually I do,” you smile, irrationally proud at the way her brows lift in surprise. Finally reaching her desk, you set down the cup holder and loosen your grip on the paper bag. “Got you breakfast.” You say softly, almost hoping to keep the words between you and her.

Emily’s mouth parts. For a moment she stares, almost in shock, before regaining her composure. 

“Thank you.” She says sincerely. Her eyes are piercing on yours, then trailing over your jaw and cheeks, in search of a reason, no doubt. “You didn’t have to.”

You hum, dropping your gaze before you confess your love. “Yeah, I know. Here,” you pluck out the heavier paper cup from its holder, “it’s hot chocolate.”

Emily’s smile turns incandescent. “It is?” She gasps softly, her pupils blown wide. Her irises turn to thin rings, her voice dulcet and warm, almost as sweet as the drink in her hand.

Your heart flutters.

“It is. You said you like hot chocolate in the mornings.” You say quietly. Somehow, the words sound like I love you. “Uh, thought it’d go well with the croissants,” you mumble, but Emily is still hung up on the chocolate.

“I can’t believe you remembered.” She whispers, her fingers tightening around the cup like it’s something precious.

You shrug and take the opportunity to shed your coat. Heat simmers under your skin, crawls up your jaw and to your ears. “You remember stuff about me all the time,” you say, taking your load and your coat over to your own desk. Pretending like it’s no big deal. Like you don’t want to get her hot chocolate every day, just to see the shine in her eyes.

Emily looks down. She chews on her lip as she pops open the lid, a flush spreading over her pale cheeks. You blink in surprise, thinking you’d imagined it, but the blush remains firm, staining her skin a soft, rosy pink.

“Oh, c’mon, hey.” A voice breaks through the silence. You distantly identify it as Morgan, but you’re too busy tracing the blush with your eyes. “None for us?” He asks; you’re not sure how serious he is.

Emily looks up. Her eyes meet yours, expectant. You look away and clear your throat, swallowing down butterflies as they rise from your stomach. 

“Nope.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi

[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 2

Russell Shaw x reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: missing child trope, description of murder, very light smut.

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Read Chapter 1 here

Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

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The October wind chilled through Colter’s jacket as he made his way inside Mitchell’s. Meeting up in a diner–he certainly felt a sense of deja vu. Though, this time, they opted for one with roof. It was fall, for god’s sake.

Once he stepped inside, he scanned the area for the familiar chestnut-haired face he was looking for. It didnt take long to find it–in fact, it found him, waving at him with a nod. 

Russell looked pretty much the same as he last saw him a couple of months ago. Maybe his hair got slightly longer.

Colter approached the table and slid into the booth across from him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Didn’t leave me much of a choice” Russell chuckled as he munched on the burger in front of him. “You said it was important. What’s this about? Not that I’m complaining. Working together from time to time. Kind of like a family business” he mused.

Without addressing his last words, Colter reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila folder. He placed it on the table between them, pushing it toward Russell. “You need to see this.”

Russell eyed the file, a slight suspicion crossing his face as he put his burger down. He then flipped the folder open. As he started to skim through its contents, his brows furrowed. The file contained pictures, reports, details…everything about a missing girl.

“Who is she?”

“Her name’s Emma. She’s been missing since yesterday. Abducted from her house. No leads yet.” Colter said and then after a few moments of silence, he added. “I think the people responsible are connected to something you were involved in years ago.”

Russell froze mid-page turn. “What the hell are you talking about? I haven��t been involved in anything for a while. You know that.”

“I’m talking about The Horizon Group, Russell.”

At the mention of the name, Russell’s face hardened. “What does this have to do with them? I told you, I cut ties. I can’t give you intel or anything like that on them.”

“Look closer.” Colter said and nodded towards the file.

Russell frowned but flipped through the file again, but this time even more carefully. It was when he hit a particular page that he stopped cold. His eyes locked onto a name he hadn’t seen in years.

Y/N Y/L/N.

The file listed Emma’s mother as Y/N. Russell’s heartbeat quickened, his mind racing through memories that rushed back to him about the woman he’d left behind long ago. 

“What’s this about?” Russell asked, still trying to sound neutral. “Y/N. I, uh… Yeah, I knew her. A long time ago.” he admitted. “This— uh, this is her daughter?”

Colter nodded slowly, watching as the realization began to hit Russell. “Yeah. Emma’s her daughter.”

Russell’s hand shook slightly as he flipped through the file again, looking more closely at the girl’s picture this time. She was small. Had wide, innocent eyes and an undeniable resemblance to Y/N. Her eyes were shaped just like her mother’s, same with her lips… But her iris–pale green–and her nose… It wasn’t her. They seemed eerily familiar, though.

“She’s… four?” Russell asked, doing the math in his head, suspicion rising in his mind.

“Yeah” Colter confirmed. He could see the wheels turning in his brother’s head. 

Russell leaned back in his seat, his face paler than usual. “Colter, why the hell are you showing me this? Why does this have anything to do with me?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

“Because I think you need to ask yourself if there’s a chance… that you’re Emma’s father.”

The words hit Russell like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling. His mind scrambled to piece together the timeline. 

The last time he’d seen Y/N. It wasn’t a peaceful break-up, not in the slightest.

“Are you saying—” Russell’s voice cracked, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Are you saying that I might be her father?”

“I don’t know” Colter said, but in fact, according to your own words, it was more than a possibility. “But the timing fits. And if you are, this isn’t just about a missing kid anymore, Russell. They didn’t just take any girl…they took your daughter.”

Russell stared at Colter, the weight of his heavy words sinking in. He had spent years running from his past, trying to bury it. But now, it was staring back at him right in the face in the form of a little girl he hadn’t even known existed.

His hands gripped the table, knuckles going white. “I… didn’t know” he said quietly. “I didn’t know she existed.”

“I believe you” Colter said. “But if Horizon took Emma, there’s a chance they’re using her to get to you.”

Russell’s heart almost skipped a beat. “They’re using her…because of me?”

Colter nodded. “It’s possible. It’s leverage. You were involved with them once, Russell. You know how they operate. They think they can use Emma to force your hand. And if they’ve gone this far….”

“...they’re not going to stop until they get what they want” Russell finished his sentence. He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. It was too much, all at once. The realization that he had a daughter, that she had been taken because of his past…he had never felt so powerless. “I–I have a daughter” he whispered.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up again “I never wanted this” he added, his voice laced with emotion. “I left so Y/N could be safe.”

Colter reached across the table. “I know. But now we need to focus on finding Emma. This isn’t just about the past anymore. It’s about finding her.”

Russell lifted his head, his eyes as determined as ever. “What do I do?”

“We start by figuring out what Horizon wants” Colter said. “You need to think. Are there any old connections, anyone from that time who might have known you were still around? Anyone who could’ve tipped them off?”

Russell thought back, his mind racing through the faces and names of people he had cut ties with long ago. “I don’t know. I kept my distance. I thought I was careful.”

“Well, someone wasn’t” Colter said. “They found Y/N and Emma, and now they’re making their move. We need to be one step ahead of them.”

Russell nodded, the knot in his chest tightening. “We’ll find her. We have to.”

Colter stood, signaling to the waitress for the check. “We will. But it’s going to take everything we’ve got.”

As they left the diner together, Russell couldn’t shake the image of Emma’s face from his mind. He didn’t know her, didn’t even know if he had the right to call himself her father.

But one thing was clear: he was the reason she was in danger. 

And that meant he would do whatever it took to bring her home.

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“Fuck, Russ” you murmured against his shoulder while he relentlessly pounded into your deepest parts. His thick, veiny arms held you steady, his soft grunts and curses going from your ears straight to your core.

The bedroom was a mess, sheets tangled and clothes scattered around the floor. You were lost in the moment, completely. But then, the bliss was shattered.

A loud crash echoed through the house, making you both freeze. Your heart raced as the sound of shattering glass filled the air, and a surge of adrenaline shot through you.

“Russ!” you gasped almost in a whisper, pulling away to look at him. Panic flickered in his eyes, and in an instant, he was off the bed, putting on his pajamas in record time. You never saw him like this before, this…focused.

“Stay here” he commanded, his voice low and serious.Where did this tone come from? 

You nodded, but fear gripped you. You couldn’t just sit back and wait.

You slipped out of bed, instinctively grabbing one of his discarded shirts and pulling it on as quickly as your trembling hands allowed. You peered into the hallway, your heart pounding as you heard footsteps echoing through the house.

“Russ!” you called softly, straining to hear him over the rush of blood in your ears.

Then you heard it— a loud bang followed by a deafening silence. The next moment, you saw him move down the hallway, his expression set and focused, a stark contrast to the intimacy you’d just shared.

“Get back!” he shouted as he rushed toward the sound, and you felt a chill run over you. 

Something was terribly wrong.

You stepped into the hallway, heart racing as hell, when suddenly, you saw the flash of a figure moving quickly toward him. Instinct kicked in, and you were about to scream when Russell pivoted, drawing a weapon you never knew he had.

In a split second, he fired. The sound of the gunshot echoed like thunder in the small space, making you jump. 

The intruder stumbled, and then collapsed to the floor in a heap.

You stood frozen, eyes wide, as the realization of what just happened hit you. YOu just witnessed a murder. There’s a dead body. In your house. 

The body of the intruder lay motionless, and a knot of horror tightened in your stomach.

“Russ…” you breathed, struggling to process what you’d just witnessed. He turned to you, his face pale but his eyes dark, filled with an intensity that was absolutely foreign to you and terrifying.

“I’m sorry” he said, breathless. “I–” he stammered. “I didn’t want you to see that.”

“Who was he?” you asked, voice, hands, body, trembling. “W–Why did you shoot him? We could just... we should have just called the cops!”

Russell stepped toward you, his gun still in hand, his breath coming in quick bursts. He contemplated what to say. But the months of keeping you in the dark… it was enough. It was time to finally tell the truth. Even if it hurt like a son of a bitch.

“He… He was here to kill me. Kill us.”

Your heart sank, and the pieces began to fall into place. You had known Russell had a past, but this? You had never imagined he was mixed up in something this dangerous.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. I wanted to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” you echoed. "From what?"

“From Horizon... From... all of this." he said motioned to the now blood-soaked carpet. "I didn’t choose this life” he sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. “I wanted to leave it behind. But they won’t let me. They never will.”

The gravity of the situation pressed down on you, and you felt your world tilt on its axis. You couldn’t comprehend the reality of what was unfolding before you.

The man you loved, the man who had shown you such tenderness, was also a part of something dark and deadly. The man you thought you knew— he killed a man. He shot a man right in front of your very eyes. And he did it precision. Without any hesitance. And it scared you. No, it terrified you.

And… what the hell was Horizon?

“We need to go” Russell said urgently, glancing at the still body on the floor. “They’ll come looking for him, and we can’t be here when they do.”

“What? Where?” you asked, feeling the panic rise in your chest.

“Anywhere but here” he said, taking your hand and leading you toward the back door. “Trust me, Y/N. I’ll keep you safe.”

“No” you said stopping in your tracks as you pulled your hand out of his hold. “Why would I trust you? I– I won't go anywhere with you.”

“What?” Russell stopped in his tracks to turn around and face you. “Y/N, we don’t have time to argue right now, I–”

“No, Russell. You fucking lied to me, kept secrets from me. I won’t go anywhere with you. I–” you trailed off. “Get the hell out of here.”

“Y/N”

“I said get the hell out of here!” you shouted.

“There’s a body in your house. I won't leave you here like this. At least– fuck, at least let me take care of it” he said frustratedly. Though her words stung, he knew he deserved it all. Still, he got her in this mess… the least he can do is to try to get her out of it. “Then… I’ll take you to your sister’s” he added reluctantly.

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You were in the middle of scrolling through social media on your couch. All of your friends, mutuals and family members had shared the news of Emma’s disappearance. It was desperate, you knew, but all means necessary to find your daughter. You were about to share the post in another Missing Persons Facebook group when the doorbell rang.

You opened the door, expecting only Colter standing there. But he wasn’t alone. It was the man behind him that made your heart skip a beat. 

Russell. 

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Next on Tuesday’s Gone (Sneak peek from Chapter 3):

“Why are you here?” You spat, your voice trembling with anger. “Are you actually worried about her… or are you just feeling guilty?”

“Because I didn’t know” Russell replied, his expression softening. “I didn’t know what I was missing until Colter called. He told me about Emma, about how scared you must be. And hell yes, I feel guilty. I— I wish I knew about her” he sighed. “Maybe I could have protected her from all of this.”

Just as you were about to answer him, to tell him another wave of fuck yous, Colter marched into the house. “I think you should see this.”

Both you and Russell turned to the younger Shaw, and you eyed him warily. “What?” you asked, still heated from the argument you and his brother had.

“There are new footprints on the front porch.” Colter said and motioned for you to follow him outside.

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Aaand the plot thickens.

Thank you for reading Chapter 2 of Tuesday's Gone, I hope you liked it!

Read Chapter 3 here

Xx Pam

[luvjunie]

— when the dam breaks

contains: third person pov (42!miles’), no reader, feelings of anxiety, some harsh language, use of the n-word once, a one-sided fight, angst, mentions of grief, brief comfort at the end

summary: miles was holding himself together just fine, until he wasn’t. wc: 2,748

a/n: this fic is based on one of my headcanons from this post,(the 12th one). handling the grief of losing a parent is one of the hardest, most painful things to navigate, especially when you’re a teen and in school. i can directly relate to miles!42 because of this, which is probably why i’m able to go so in depth with his character. i’m really proud of how this turned out so i hope you guys enjoy reading <3

The back of Ms. Bellam’s history class was Miles’ favorite spot to sit in. The seat by the window, specifically. Where he could gaze out with the fantasy of being anywhere else but stuck listening to the lecture in his fifth block; forced to hear his teacher rave on about some old expedition he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about.

But today, Miles was not in the back of the class.

He had a bad feeling the moment the bell rung and the projector powered on to display the newest assignment the tall, stocky woman had on the agenda; a partnered project. Which, unfortunately, meant a new seating chart was on the horizon.

Miles must’ve spaced out during the introduction of the assignment, but his teacher’s assertive voice brought him back to the very moment he was dreading.

“Cody, you’re paired with—“ Ms. Bellam pulled a small slip of paper out from a little bucket of randomized names on her desk. “—Lauren.”

She ignored the quiet groan she got after unknowingly pairing two exes together and drew two more names. “Bailey, you’re with Lucas.”

“Sarah, you’re with… Faith. And Miles,” The brunette-haired teacher stuck her hand into the bucket once more to pull out the very last slip of paper, and read it with finality. “You’re with Gabby.”

Miles lifted his head and did a quick scan of the faces around, until he met the eyes of his new partner, Gabby, who gave him a small wave from the front of the class. His jaw clenched at the realization that he’d have to give up his safe corner, since the seats around him were filled, while the one next to her was open.

“Alright everyone, if you’re not already next to your partner, go find them.”

With an inaudible grumble and something along the lines of ‘i hate this fucking class’ and a mix of ‘kill me now’— Miles rose from his chair, snatched his backpack up with a little too much force, and crossed the classroom to plop down defeatedly next to the girl he was paired with.

Chin tucked in his hand and eyes glued to the ticking clock above the white board, he didn’t know how long he sat like that, or how much valuable information he’d missed while he ignored the overly peppy, thirty-year old’s directions to the class. But he did know that the minute hand on that damn analog device wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. The droning of voices overlapping and the bouncing of ideas filled the once silent air after instructions had been given, but Miles was far from focused on the task at hand.

The incessant tapping of his pencil against the hard plastic of his desk, matched with the clearly agitated bounce of his leg had his partner stealing experimental glances in his direction— her lips having been licked ample times from the stress of debating on whether to make the difficult decision of speaking to the boy who was clearly not interested in conversation— or even being here at all.

She spoke up anyway. “Um… So most of the other groups have pretty much chosen already. That means we’re left with James Cook, Vasco de Gama, Ferdinand Magellan, or—“

“You can pick for us. I don’t really care which one.” Miles interrupted.

“Oh—“ Gabby blinked. His response was curt, but at least she got one. “Okay then, Ferdinand Magellan.” Flipping through the rubric that had been passed out at some point, she referred to the second page with her index finger. “It says our presentation has to be between six to eight slides, which includes the works cited for our research. So we could do one introduction slide, and maybe about,” she paused to think. “Four?— information slides? And then we could add some fun facts and trivia questions at the end so we can get our class participation points in without too much effort. That cool with you?”

Gabby was a nice girl. She never bothered him, never looked at him weird when he’d come into class late sometimes, and had actually ran through the hallway to return the notebook that fell out of his open backpack just last week. He wasn’t aggravated at her, but more so at the fact that everybody could stare at the back of his head now instead of the other way around, like it was before. It made him self conscious about everything, even down to the way he was sitting in his chair. He could feel a few beams on his back right about now, and adjusted his position slightly.

Miles sighed and reminded himself to respond to her politely. “Uh-huh. Sounds good.”

A voice to his left behind him caught his attention, the voice in question belonging to one of the most obnoxious boys he’d ever had the displeasure of knowing— Ethan Thompson. Someone who always had too much to say and nothing productive or appropriate to add— it usually being something creepy or gross about a girl he wanted to ‘get to know’.

Miles would’ve tuned him out, like he always did, but this time it was impossible. Probably because out of all the conversations regarding the explorers meant to be researched, this one had absolutely nothing to do with history, or even school for that matter.

“Bro, did you hear about what happened to…”

Miles strained to hear as best as he could without moving from his seat, though it was a struggle since Gabby was still talking his ear off to the right of him about who would do what when it came to their workload.

“Miles?”

He ignored her as another voice chimed in, and his back stiffened.

“I know dude, my sister told me about it. Said he was killed in action or somethin’ like that… I just know his mom is crushed. I feel really bad.”

Miles knew people talked about this, he wasn’t dumb. But damn, did they have to do it when he was right there?

Then, there was a laugh.

Miles was confused. He didn’t find anything regarding the topic of their conversation even remotely comical.

“Fuck that,” Ethan quieted his voice, though not quiet enough. “That just means Mrs. Morales is single and up for grabs now.”

It took less than a second for Miles’ blood to simmer to a scalding boil. He held a subtle finger up and quieted Gabby, who was currently asking him about what they should research first.

“Can you give me just… one second?” he asked gently.

Gabby’s words died on her tongue and she gave a muddled nod.

Miles threw his elbow over the back of his chair when his torso whipped around, his eyes glazed with enmity and immediately catching Ethan’s.

“The fuck you just say?”

Ethan froze.

Miles’ tone was lethal, rage lifting the volume above the blurred chattering around, venom spitting from his tongue like he intended to kill the boy with words alone. The speed in which the class fell silent would’ve been humorous had there not been such hostility within the air.

“Miles, language!” Ms. Bellam’s eyes snapped up from her computer screen, her face a picture of disbelief at his unusual vitriol. He was always quiet as a mouse in her class, well behaved above all.

Jaws hung slack, the gazes of the students around darted back and forth between the two boys continuously, the tension in the room palpable.

Miles sat up straighter in his seat, jaw clenched and his patience dwindling. To say he was seething would be a dangerous understatement.

“Nah, nah Ms. B,” His head cocked, and his eyes narrowed at Ethan, ruinously. “I wanna know what this nigga just said ‘bout my fuckin’ mom.”

“Oh shit…” Gabby gulped. Today was the most she’d heard Miles speak in class almost the entire semester.

“It was a joke, bro.” Ethan huffed a chuckle, a nervous thing that his friend easily picked up on. Miles was not one to bluff, and Ethan was notorious for taking things too far.

“Don’t bro me, repeat that dumb shit you just said and watch how fast I knock your ass out.” Miles gritted through his teeth, hot air puffing through his nostrils like a bull who’d just seen red.

“Boys, enough!” Ms. Bellman was standing now, hands planted to her desk as she watched with bated breath, just like the rest of the class-now-turned-audience.

Ethan shrugged, and Miles swore he felt his eye twitch.

Strike one.

Then, the boy playfully nudged his friend’s arm with a cocky smirk, as if he thought the threat he’d just received wasn’t one that would be carried out.

Strike two.

“He’s baiting you, Miles…” Gabby whispered dejectedly, in warning, only so Miles could hear. But his tunnel vision had already set in.

“Go ‘head. Repeat yourself.” Miles demanded.

Nails digging into the skin of his palms hard enough to leave crescents in their wake, there was a voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he could get into serious trouble if he didn’t get his emotions in check, fast. He’d progressed so quickly in his after school M.M.A classes, that now, even getting into a simple fist fight could land him a serious assault charge. A judge would take one look at the history of his intense training, and the option to deem his hands as deadly weapons in the case would immediately be presented, and most likely acted upon.

Knocking the teeth out of a rich white boy would never be the smart decision here, especially not for someone who looked the way he did.

He’d be sent straight to juvie.

“I mean, all I was sayin’ is, technically—“ Ethan threw his hands up in a careless manner. “If I play my cards right, I could be your future step-daddy.”

Strike three.

Ms. Bellam was yelling now. “Ethan, principal’s office, now!”

And that probably would’ve been the better option, had he actually had a choice.

Miles’ movements were swift when he shot out of his seat, and the students in his way followed suit with yelps and gasps as they quickly removed themselves from the area. The desks blocking his pathway to pummeling the shit out of this kid loudly screeched against the school’s tile when they were shoved out of the way, and the one he’d mindlessly flipped over in his stampede proceeded to erupt the room into pure pandemonium.

One punch would’ve been good enough, Miles knew that. But in this moment, thinking rationally was so far out of his reach he would’ve missed it even if he’d jumped for it. He’d swung a closed fist to Ethan’s jaw and knocked him to the floor with ease, then followed him down, sat on his chest and had the boy’s arms pinned under his knees so he couldn’t protect his snobby-ass face. One punch would’ve been good enough, but just two vehement blows later, the satisfying crack of a bone that wasn’t his under Miles’ knuckles had him sending a few more into the reddened face of the boy beneath him, just to really get his point across.

“Jesus Christ— Miles!” Ms. Bellman scrambled from her seat in a panic and rushed to fling the classroom’s door open, her desperate yells directed to anyone who might’ve been strolling the hallways. “We need security in here! You-!” She pointed to a student with a bathroom pass. “Go get security, and tell them to come to room 205, now! Go!”

Everyone was yelling at once, but Miles couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing of rage in his ears. Anger is only grief turned sour— a terribly perilous thing to leave untreated.

Some of his classmates were frozen with shock, or fear, maybe— hands clasped over their gaped mouths while others had their phones out with the camera app open—vampires for some good drama while they hooted and hollered at the most exciting thing they’d seen this entire year.

“That’s enough!”

Strong arms suddenly hooked under Miles’ armpits and prevented his fist from worsening the damage already done. Two male teachers from neighboring classrooms had rushed in and yanked him up and off Ethan, his hips bucking as he kicked his way up onto his feet. Miles’ chest expanded and collapsed with the weight of his heaving breaths, face flushed with the remnants of his lost temper as he directed his attention to Ethan’s friend, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“When your boy wake up, tell him watch his mouth next time!”

Miles didn’t know why he was yelling. It was common knowledge that it’s pretty rare for someone who’s unconscious to understand what you’re saying to them.

He didn’t struggle when the two teachers dragged him away, but when they shoved him out the door and into the hall with more force than he thought necessary, he snatched his arms away from their grasp with a rolled shrug, and huffed a frustrated grunt about how he knew how to walk on his own.

—

The drive home was eerily silent. The radio hadn’t been touched, and neither had Miles by his mother’s gaze the moment they’d left the principal’s office after he received his verdict.

Out of school suspension. One week.

It was the best the administrative staff could do after Rio swallowed her pride and went as low as begging them not to expel her boy.

Slumped in the passenger seat with his hands in his lap, Miles didn’t bother to look at the bruises he knew were forming on his knuckles. It was a familiar feeling, and at the moment he was more concerned with why it felt like his throat had been stuffed with cotton when he tried to talk.

“Mamá, I—“

“Do not. Speak.” Rio’s breath wavered, her hands clutching the wheel so hard she thought she’d crush it. She tried not to let her voice break. “Not one word.”

Silence.

—

It all settled in as they climbed the stairwell, the images of what just happened flashing back in his mind every time he blinked; what he’d done playing over and over again in a continuous loop. The wooden railings creaked under the weight of his mother’s hand, and as she knowingly skipped the one that had weakened over the years, he knew the home that held every single emotion he tried to leave behind when he went to school was now just a few steps up.

Rio’s key twisted in the lock before she opened the door, and Miles followed behind her, shoulders slouched dispiritedly. He resembled something of a stray puppy; desperate for attention, but acceptant and grateful that it, as much of a nuisance as it may be, was being tolerated enough to stay on it’s finder’s heels.

He thought being scolded by his mother was bad, but the lack thereof was even worse. Her brows were clenched, and her conflicted yet somehow blank expression told him that she truly did not have any words for him as she leaned on the kitchen counter, hands clasped firmly around the edge so tightly her knuckles paled. She didn’t even know where to start, and Miles didn’t blame her. He refused to explain why he’d snapped when it was asked of him. When his mother’s widened eyes had pleaded with him to tell the principal what happened in that classroom that set him off in such a way, he didn’t. He had no reason not to, at least one he could think of right now, but his voice just wouldn’t allow it. Both in that office, and now in their kitchen, dimly lit by the warm light above the stove, the weight of his mother’s disappointment clung to the suffocating silence, like a fish to a hook and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mamá, I’m sorry.” He whispered in a quick breath, the lump in his throat painful when he swallowed it.

“Good money, Miles.” Rio shook her head, a hand coming up to rest over the rise and fall of her chest. “Good money! We paid good money to get you into that school, your dad and I. I work hard to keep you there and you just—“

Dad.

And the dam broke. Though its foundation wasn’t very strong to begin with— Miles’ shoulders crumbled under the weight of his actions and his tears flooded past his waterline with choked sobs that left no room for air.

Whatever Rio was going to say had been forgotten. The sight of her son sobbing in a way she hadn’t seen since the night they’d received the news immediately put a stop to her reprimanding. Now, she was truly worried.

“Oh Miles, come come come,” She hastily tugged him into a hug and wrapped him firmly in her arms, her hands repeatedly rubbing up and down the expanse of his back. “¿Qué es Mijo? (what is it, son?) Talk to me. No te lo guardes, ¿recuerda?” (no holding it in, remember?)

Miles could barely catch his breath, and somehow talking about it was just as painful as the ache that resided deep in his chest.

“I—It was Dad, it was about—“ a quick breath in split his sentence in half. “About Dad. He was—talking about what ha—happened and I—“ Miles tried for another, but it caught in his throat, ragged and choppy and had his ribcage stuttering from the lousy attempt to cease his hyperventilating. The fact that he couldn’t get his words out uninterrupted only frustrated him more; only made him cry harder. He scrubbed at his tears with the back of his hand, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t he stop crying?

“He said—“ Another wilted inhale, and a hiccup. “It was abo—about you, and it was terrible and I— I just, I got so angry, and I tried Mamá, I did. But I couldn’t and—and then I was on him and I’m sorry—“

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Rio used a hand to bring his head into her shoulder, his cries muffled and his tears wetting the sleeve of her blouse as his rambling came to a halt. Miles clutched onto her tightly, arms round her waist as he fell apart in front of the woman who’d tried her best to piece him back together.

“Respira, Mijo, respira… (breathe).” Rio whispered. “Please.” Seeing her son so distraught had brought on tears of her own, but she shut her eyes, and tucked away her own feelings so she could focus on his. “It’s okay. It’s alright.”

“But you’re mad at me, I don’t want you to be mad at me—“

Rio shook her head and tutted at him. “I’m not mad at you, papa. I understand. Okay? I’m not angry. No.” She couldn’t be upset with him for something like this, not when he could barely shelter himself from his own guilt.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Miles was inconsolable as Rio continued rubbing his back, and her voice shook when she spoke, but she kept the uncertainty she held within her heart concealed from her promise to him.

“We’re going to be okay.”

[alastwhorez]

Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned

​† Pairing: Priest!Alastor x Reader

​† Summary: Alastor wants to save your soul

​† warnings: 18+, MDNI, mention of religion, masturbation, p in v, talk of oral, talk of masturbation, defiling a church, semi-public sex, public sex. Mention of Susan. I think that's everything.

​† An: I can't get priest Alastor out of my head. I'm working on turning this into a series. Will be linked when first chapter is out. Not proofread, possible spelling errors.

In your quaint little town, the old stone church stood as a beacon of solace and hope. The townsfolk often spoke of their new priest, Father Alastor, whose voice was as soothing as a lullaby and whose presence brought comfort to all who sought it.

You had been attending his services for months now, drawn not only by his inspiring sermons but also by something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. Father Alastor’s kindness and wisdom had touched your heart, and you found yourself looking forward to each Sunday with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the church, you decided to go to confession. Your heart pounded in your chest as you entered the dimly lit confessional booth. You had a secret to confess, one that had been weighing on your mind for some time.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “It has been a month since my last confession.”

Father Alastor’s voice, calm and reassuring, came through the screen. “Speak, my child. What troubles you?”

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Father, I… I have developed feelings for someone. Feelings that I know I shouldn’t have.”

There was a pause, and you could almost feel his gaze through the screen. “Feelings are a natural part of being human,” he said gently. “Who is it that you have these feelings for?”

Your heart raced as you struggled to find the words. “It’s you, Father Alastor. I have a crush on you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You feared you had crossed a line, that you had ruined the trust and respect you had built. But then, Father Alastor spoke, his voice soft and understanding.

“My child, love and affection are powerful emotions, and they can often lead us down unexpected paths. It is not a sin to feel, but we must be mindful of our actions and intentions.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, but the weight of your confession still lingered. “I don’t know what to do, Father. I don’t want these feelings to come between us or to distract me from my faith.”

Father Alastor’s voice was filled with compassion. “It is important to acknowledge your feelings and to understand them. Sometimes, our hearts lead us to places we do not expect, but it is our faith and our commitment to our values that guide us.”

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “I am here to support you, to help you navigate these emotions. Together, we can find a way to honor your feelings while staying true to your faith.”

“Father, I have another confession” You say

“What is it my child?” He speaks voice smooth

“I have committed the sin of the flesh, Father”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. “Urges and temptations are natural child, it's what makes you human”

You wiggle in the confessional before turning toward the screen and gripping it with your fingers.

“It's all the time Father, all I can think about”

You hear a slight gulp and he pauses briefly.

“My child, there is nothing wrong with you. You just have to stay committed to your faith. God will lead you in the right direction.”

“But Father, I'm scared I won't be able to control myself. I think about it all the time, even now. And the man I imagine makes it so much worse. He isn't available for such acts. I shouldn't be thinking of him this way.”

“Child, could you give me a better understanding of these acts you speak of? Maybe I can be of more assistance if I understanding”

Your legs rub together thinking about admitting these things to Father Alastor. You suck In a breath before speaking in a low breathy voice.

“I-I touch myself Father—Down there. And I know I shouldn't but I can't stop. And the sin doesn't stop There Father. I want to do more. The man I think about. I want him to do things to me, to touch me in unholy ways”

You hear his breath hitch and you can slightly see him fidget behind the screen as you hear the sound of clothes rustling.

“There is nothing wrong with imagining things you can not have, child. It becomes a sin when you act upon these Urges. I would suggest removing yourself from this man until the urges and actions cease.”

“But Father, that Would mean missing Your sermon”

“My child, if it is someone at the church you can always come to a different sermon, or speak to me privately. I'm more than willing to help you.”

“I don't think that will work, Father. He will still be here. He's always here”

“If you don't mind my asking, child. Who might this man be?” his voice is filled with curiosity

You bite your lip. “Oh Father, it's you. I already admitted to my crush, but it's so much more. I want you, Father. I want you to do unholy things to me. When you are up there speaking all I can think about is you taking me right on pew or the altar. Hiking my dress up and having your way with me. I touch myself to the thoughts of you, Father Alastor.”

You hear him choke. He is quiet for several moments. So long that you speak up. “Are you alright Father?”

He clears his throat. “Yes, Yes I'm fine”

“What do I do, Father Alastor? Can you help me? I can't be having these unholy thoughts about a holy man”

Alastor thinks for a moment. What no one knows about him is that before he became a priest he committed several sins. So many he knows he will never be forgiven for, but this is something entirely different.

Alastor has watched the several months You have attended his sermons and he has grown quite fond of you, and he has to admit you are a very attractive woman. You have suitors constantly banging at your door, and you want him?

Alastor was never one For physical touch and sins of the flesh, never having found someone he deemed worthy of doing such acts with, but you. Oh you could his perfect little sock sleeve. He could mold you into the perfect little pet. Just as long as no one finds out about it that is.

“child could you describe these acts and thoughts to me so I may be of bigger assistance”

You let a sigh escape your lips.

“I dream of you Father, dream Of you touching me, fucking me, letting me suck your cock As you fuck my face.”

You hear the sound of clothes rustling then a zipper

“Keep going my child”

“I let my hands wander around my body. I pinch, squeeze, and rub all over—anywhere I can touch. I take my clothes off and do things to myself.”

You hear panting and Heavy breathing.

“How do you touch yourself”

“I lick my fingers to wet them, then i slip them into my panties, i start stroking myself, rubbing, gathering up my slick, before I start to rub my clit. Slow then fast. When I'm close I sometimes slip a finger in maybe two. I like to think they are yours.

You hear a bang as he throws his head back and hits it against the wall. “What do you wish to do to me?”

“I want to suck your cock. lip up from the base to the top before taking in my mouth, down my throat. I play with your balls and when you cum i swallow it all down, not wasting a single drop.”

His breathing is more ragged and the movement faster.

“Fuck”

“Father, did you just?”

“ fuck, fuck, fuck”

Alastor is Fisting his cock, humping into his hand as he imagines it's yours, or even your cunt. He's close but can't push himself over the edge.

“goddammit! Get over here”

And you do. You exit the confessional and look around the church. No one is paying attention. You open the door to his side and slip in. You gasp at the sight.

Father Alastor, pants down, cock in hand. It's leaking, dripping down his hand. He growls. The confessional is small. Only big enough for one person. He grabs your hand and pulls you on top of him. He lifts your dress up over your hips and pushes your panties to the side.

“Father, what are you—” He cuts you off

“I'm helping you over this sin my dear. Together we will find salvation.”

He pushes you down by the hip, sliding into you, stretching your walls. Your mouth falls open in pleasure as his falls back.

He grips your hips and starts grinding you on him, slowly. He bucks up into you every now and again.

“Oh, oh father” He slams his lips against yours in a heated kiss silencing you. Can't have anyone knowing he is defiling you in here.

His tough wrestles with yours. You moan into the kiss, hands gripping his hair. he slaps your ass and tells you to ride him. You bounce up and down on his cock. His hand slides down your body finding you bundle of nerves before his skilled fingers start to rub.

You feel heat start to build and so does Alastor. You throw your head bad cumming all over his sock, squeezing him as he shoots his load into you, milking his cock.

Your head falls onto his shoulder and he stroking your back and hair. He pulls out and puts her panties back in place before patting your Clothed cunt. “Don't waste any of it” you nod.

You both sneak out of the confessional undetected. He opens his mouth to say something when someone walks over.

“Father Alastor, you're needed upfront.” his eyes turn to slits and his grin tightens

“Of course, Susan. I'll be right there”

He walks past you, his hand sliding along your body. He leans down against your ear.

“Meet me in the parsonage after the last sermon. We still have work to do to save your soul from total damnation”

Series table of contents

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Alliance of Shadows (1)

Author's note: This is the beginning of a new series! I just need our baby boi to find happiness somewhere. Also no beta- we die like our hyperfixation

Pairing: Adar x reader

Warnings: none- we're just getting started babes.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adar stood at the edge of the forest, his sharp eyes trained on the distant horizon, where the lands of men and elves and dwarves spread out like a patchwork of history he had no desire to join. The offer from Galadriel still echoed in his mind—empty promises of peace, woven with the threads of distrust and superiority. He could never trust the elves. They would never understand his mission, his children, the ones he had shaped and led, the ones he was trying so desperately to protect.

But he had heard whispers. Rumors of a dark queen in the East, hidden away in the Black Mountains with her people. She, too, did not trust easily, shrouding her realm in magic and mystery. If anyone could understand what it was to protect those you created, to keep them safe in a world that rejected them, it would be her. The Witch Queen. Her reluctance to step into the light intrigued him—her strength, her caution. Perhaps she would see his vision as something more than mere conquest. Perhaps, she would understand what it meant to carve out a place for those the world would rather forget.

____________________________________________________________

You sense him long before he crosses the threshold of your realm. His presence is a disturbance, an anomaly cutting through the ancient wards woven into the mountains. No one comes here unless they are lost, desperate, or seeking something far beyond their reach. You wonder which he is.

Standing at the balcony of your stone fortress, you watch the dying light of day slowly succumb to the night. The wind is cool, whispering through the peaks like an old song only you and your people remember. Down below, the forest stretches like a black sea, the trees swaying in rhythm to the unseen forces that rule here. Your people have thrived in these dark places, far from the prying eyes of men, elves, and dwarves. The world beyond is not your concern.

And yet, he is coming. Adar.

You've heard his name on the lips of your seers, in the cries of the earth, and the howling winds. A figure of contradiction, neither wholly elf nor something else entirely. You’ve felt his ambition pulsing through the air, a thread of fate pulling him toward you. He wants something, and you know men like him are rarely content with what they already possess.

Still, there is something about him that intrigues you. It is not just the magic that hums within his veins, dark and ancient like your own, but something deeper. A hunger. A sense of belonging, perhaps? The thought amuses you—he does not belong here, and yet he comes. Perhaps, in some way, you have called him.

The sharp knock on the great doors of your hall shatters the stillness. He is here.

When your guards open the doors, Adar steps inside, his tall figure cutting an imposing silhouette against the moonlight streaming in from behind. He meets your gaze almost immediately, as if he has been seeking you through the mists, through the wards, through time itself.

You remain seated on your throne, carved from the stone of the mountain, cold beneath your touch. The air between you feels charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. He approaches slowly, his eyes fixed on you, dark and unreadable.

"Adar," you say, your voice calm but carrying an edge of curiosity. "You’ve traveled far for someone so reluctant to forge new alliances."

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break eye contact. "I come seeking something greater than an alliance, Witch Queen."

You let a faint smile touch your lips. His arrogance is a thin veil, hiding something deeper. "And what is it you seek, then? Surely not the fleeting loyalty of my people."

He takes a step closer, his movements measured, as if testing the air between you. "Your power. Your aid. Your people’s strength. I need them. You know the war that comes."

A war. You know of many wars, past, present, and those yet to be born. But your people have lived untouched by them, your magic keeping you hidden from the eyes of those who would exploit it. The mountain has always been your sanctuary. His presence, however, threatens to disrupt that balance.

"What makes you think I will give you what you seek?" you ask, rising slowly from your throne. The power in you ripples out, subtle but unmistakable. You want to see how he reacts to it, to you.

Adar’s gaze sharpens, but he does not waver. "Because you want what I want. You want something beyond this mountain. Beyond what you’ve kept hidden for so long. I can give that to you."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, but you keep your tone neutral. "And what exactly do you think I desire?"

He steps even closer now, his voice lowering, his dark eyes burning into yours. "Freedom. The world beyond. A kingdom of your own, forged not in the shadows, but in the light of your enemies’ ruin."

His words stir something in you—something dangerous, something you have buried for longer than you care to admit. The promise of power, of stepping out from the sanctuary of the mountains and into a world that could be yours.

But you are not foolish, nor easily swayed.

"Why should I risk the safety of my people for your war?" you ask, your voice as cold as the stone beneath your feet.

For a moment, he hesitates. And that hesitation tells you more than his words ever could. He needs you, truly needs you. And perhaps, there is more to this than simple ambition. You see the hunger in his eyes, the same hunger that burns quietly within you, waiting for the right moment to be unleashed.

"Because we are not so different," he finally says, his voice steady once more. "You feel it, as I do. This world was never meant for us, for those like us. But together, we could make it ours."

You study him, your mind racing through possibilities, the risks, the gains. He is dangerous, yes. But so are you. And maybe, just maybe, he is right.

Still, you will not be moved so easily. "Perhaps," you say softly, stepping closer to him, until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "But I will need more than promises, Adar. If you want my aid, you will have to earn it."

For the first time, a flicker of something like surprise crosses his face. Then, it is gone, replaced by the smoldering intensity that draws you to him.

"I intend to," he replies.

You smile—a dark, knowing smile. "We shall see."

[ashtxrie]

oh no... am i falling in love? (sunoo)

PAIR. high school!sunoo x gn!reader GENRE. fake dating au, high school au, best friends to lovers, fluff WORD COUNT. 2.2k WARNINGS. none! NOTES. first post kinda nervous!! <//3 i need a sunoo irl he is truly the greenest of green flags

you and sunoo are those friends

you’ve got that type of friendship where something clicked and suddenly you were both attached at the hip for years

because apparently having the same clear muji pencil case with the holy grail 0.5 black muji pen at the beginning of middle school meant best friends ride or die in seventh-grade culture

like, someone who prioritized aesthetics in notetaking as much as you did? even in the confines of this crusty campus? crazy.

but anyway, with you being absolutely intent on making friends, sunoo couldn’t get rid of you if he tried but pls he could never survive without you anyway... who else would he trust enough to exchange his top-tier notes with?

and since then you’ve both been best friends for life! well, ever since the +6 with the introduction of sunoo's other friends [read: the rest of enhypen...]

and at first you were super happy because new friends!

but then they kind of stopped hanging out with you in the middle of sophomore year or so and went off into their own little world

and you were a little sad

ok maybe a lot sad. devastated, even.

but that was okay because that meant you were able to meet new friends and expand your horizons! you even got the chance to focus on yourself and join some new clubs, too!

who even is sunoo anymore lmao you don’t know him

but anyway

it was junior year and you were so tired of your friends bugging you to get a s/o

“[name], why don’t you date someone?”

“you’d really hit it off with so and so, don’t you think?”

“just put yourself out there”

ರ_ರ

ayo... excuse me

so one day you just can’t take it anymore

and maybe you should’ve thought this through but... nope

you don’t pause to think things through

because life is for living in the moment hell yes yolo gang

“umm guys i’m already dating someone!”

needless to say your friends go INSANE

like who tf is [name] gatekeeping from us they’re so fake /j

so like any sane and mentally adept person, you say the first name that comes to mind

“hahaha … sunoo!”

your friends stare at you. flabbergasted, shocked, stunned beyond words.

blink blink

“but … weren’t you guys just friends”

“NO”

you’re panicking but

trust

“we’re in LOVE”

ur friends are really like ok whatever, but go off

and that is how you find yourself dragging yourself over to sunoo's fifth period and placing your hands on sunoo's shoulders

“promise me you won’t freak out”

and ofc sunoo is already freaking out

bc why are you standing in front of the ap lang classroom with this crazily determined face and forcing him to listen to you

and this is how you get into this situation

with sunoo having a literal double take and you doing your best "pls help me out i beg of you" impression

“i can’t DATE you”

what

you give sunoo your best professional face even though inside you’re ???

bc um is it that bad to date you??

you are confused???

you’ve saved sunoo thousands of times in his high school career in both academics and social standing he can afford to pretend to date you ONCE

“WHY NOT”

“BECAUSE”

...

is he being fr rn

obviously you’re not getting anywhere and you turn around to walk away, kind of annoyed

“fine then, i’ll just find someone else to date me.” shrug (dies inside).

as soon as you say that, it’s like you’ve flipped a switch and suddenly sunoo is very concerned and almost a little upset

and when you don’t notice him contemplating something, he runs in front of you and nearly knocks you over

“second thoughts?”

sunoo scowls

although it looks more like a lil pout pushing at his lips and he crosses his arms

lmao who is this and what’s happened to sunoo

you shrug and start to leave for real until sunoo reaches out to tug at your arm

“NO, NO WAIT … I’LL DO IT”

you whirl around immediately and you are needless to say, very relieved!

｡◕‿◕｡

“perfect!”

but apparently sunoo hasn’t recovered from his fall from before

bc he can’t stop rubbing his hand against his neck and his face is all blotchy and pink

kinda cute, but in a best friends way.  like wowie my best friend looks kinda adorable look at that boy go

but ofc sunoo has to ruin the special moment because he offhandedly says, “shouldn’t we have rules or something?”

rules???

RULES???

this is fake dating sunoo wdyfm rules? that's so silly goofy

“huh?”

“like … things not to do? maybe one big rule is not ruining our friendship???”

ʘ‿ʘ

oh

he kinda smart for that

“ok easy then, just don’t fall in love with me”

apparently this is the WRONG thing to say?

sunoo is RED like boy is not pink anymore his cheeks are burning red

“you can’t just say that?”

????

you are confused bc what does that even mean

“why not?”

“that’s like ...  y-you you can’t just say that.”

you are, if possible, even more confused?

“okay and?”

sunoo blinks

pls this boy has the audacity to just shrug

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

u are dumb af sunoo bout to throw hands here

but he won’t bc he loves u <3

so fifteen minutes later you guys decide to make three big rules

sunoo had a whole list of like twenty but you narrowed it down to these:

1. don’t ruin ur friendship

2. no kissing

3. and ur paying for three rounds of mint choco ice cream after this is over

honestly you think this is kinda rude considering sunoo is richer than ur entire life but whatever, at least he’s not leaving you out to the wolves

so when it’s finally time to put this fake dating thing to the test, you tug sunoo over to your side of the table during lunch and make sure to swing his hand

which actually feels kind of nice??

like you’ve never actually thought about this before

but sunoo is comforting

his hand fits right in yours, and he’s so warm

and i mean haha it’s not like this is a new thing, you two hold hands all the time!! but adjkaldjkfl not in a dating way

ur friends are shocked. bamboozled.

like they never thought you’d actually show up with a DATE

and bc they’re all RUDE they grill sunoo

but sunoo is best boy

best bf

and answers all their questions like a pro

that's my man

i mean what???

ur so proud

you let ur head rest against sunoo's shoulder and BITCH

sunoo presses a kiss to ur forehead

YO........................ insane.

why are u so happy? what is this??

it’s just so gentle and soft and you feel your heart getting all mushy and warm

your friends all give a big collective aww because one, they’re annoying af and yes y’all are cute cute and this is cute

but ur going through some existential crisis

and later when you’re walking with sunoo to all your classes, you can’t stop thinking that hey, this fakedating thing isn’t that bad

but whatever it’s just cause u miss spending time with sunoo!

yes, that’s it!

you’re just sad that sunoo always hangs out with his new group and you don’t get to see him as much

so this is nice!

you’re just going through some bff nostalgia rn... it's just gonna take some time for [name].exe to start working again

anyway now bc of this fakedating thing, you and sunoo just spend so much time together

like you guys have always been best friends, but this feels different

sunoo will run over to you when he sees you and wrap his arms around your waist

the first time he did it, he had the cuteness to go “is this okay? are you okay? is this too much?"

and YOUR HEART WENT !!!!!

you might’ve blushed

okay you did

but you convince yourself it’s just because ur touch starved and bitchless

c’mon... get it together

but whenever you call sunoo and wave at him, his face just LIGHTS up

and you’re pretty sure yours does too

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

needless to say, you kinda don’t want this all to end

because somewhere in the middle of all this, your head has gone from calling sunoo your fake boyfriend to your real boyfriend

and you don’t really want to go back to just being friends if you’re honest

wait hold up

uh oh

UH OH CODE RED

INTERPOL INTERPOL.....

did you just admit you liked sunoo?? in a FOR REALS way?

UMMMMM

so like the only way you know how to deal with things, you avoid it!

you start to act really distant

and now whenever sunoo wraps his arms around you, you stiffen up

and sunoo like the angel he is pulls away so quickly bc ?? is his best friend upset? uncomfortable?

did HE make his best friend for life, his 4lifer, uncomfortable? omg this isn’t ok what is happening

everyone can tell something is up

ofc they can, what with you going to the extent of running away whenever you see sunoo and sunoo reacting like the entire light got blown out his life

and bffr sunoo may be innocent but he ISN'T dumb

he knows your schedule he KNOWS you’re ignoring him

and baby is upset

because lately you’ve been starting to feel a lot more to him

and now you’re just gone??

that’s not okay and sunoo isn’t just gonna sit around and be sad

if there’s something he can do he’s gonna do all he can to try to fix it!

he corners you one day and holds up an angry piece of paper

“excuse me but you broke rule number one which is, in case you forgot, don’t RUIN OUR FRIENDSHIP”

“oh haha uh sunoo! hi uhh i gotta go 👉👉 ”

sunoo's face falls

and that was it

you just wanna hold his cheeks and tell him things are fine and that you love him

wait WHAT

but sunoo is still staring at you with that wounded look

like you’ve just ripped up his heart and torn it to shreds

bc that’s kinda what you’re doing

omg what’ve you done

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

“sunoo…”

his eyes lock onto yours so fast that you’re afraid he’s got whiplash

your mouth goes dry, and for a few moments it’s hard to talk

but you finally manage to tell him that “i don’t think we should fake date anymore.”

sunoo's face breaks

his eyes go wide, and it looks like he wants to stagger. and he almost does, just a little bit

“is it something i did?”

WHAT

this boy

kim sunoo is really gonna be the death of you

you’re shaking your head back and forth so fast because NO of course not of course this isn’t his fault

sunoo is Not Okay, and he looks so, so concerned for you. “because i swear i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. if i screwed up just tell me and i can fix it, [name], please”

you shake ur head, already starting to panic.  “of course not.  it’s not YOU sunoo. i just can’t fake date you because--”

you clamp your hands over your mouth

“because?” sunoo prompts, his voice careful

you just shake your head, already starting to turn and run back to somewhere, anywhere because this is stupid and you’re scared

terrified, actually

but sunoo just takes your hand and tugs you backward a bit, almost like a scene from a movie

you do that little twirl back and are face to face with the one and only

“do you … do you like me?” sunoo asks

that’s it

it’s out

you’re ready for your entire friendship with sunoo to come crashing down

“do you?” he repeats softly

you try to pull away but sunoo isn’t having it

he’s still holding onto your hand, gently, of course, and his eyes are boring into yours

you’re too scared to look because you’re afraid of what you’ll find

but when you can’t take it anymore and finally tilt your head up you realize something important

because his eyes aren’t full of disgust

in fact, that’s further from the truth

kim sunoo is staring at you with the biggest heart eyes you’ve ever seen and you’re confused as to how you’ve never seen this sooner

it’s almost like you’re his whole world, and now you can’t fucking breathe

is this real? chat is this fr rn??

your heart’s pounding in your chest so fast and there’s something bursting at your lungs

you nod faintly.  “yes. i like you”

the huge grin that spreads across sunoo's face is everything

he rushes forward to pull you into a gigantic hug, even lifting you up a little as he spins you around and lets out a little happy noise

“i’ve liked you forever, [name], i can’t believe this is real”

what

so u could’ve been dating sunoo before??

“you dork why didn’t you tell me?”

“because you didn’t like me like that!”

BITCH WHAT

“well maybe i was confused” you pipe back

sunoo just laughs, burying his head in your shoulder.  “i’m so happy right now.”

and honestly ?

so are you !!