#in little ways that mean the world to her

[phaedraismyusername]

Seeing as this list is being shared around again I just wanted to add on a few more I've read since then that I'd highly recommend

Mapping the Interior by Stephen Graham Jones

This little 100ish page novella was my very first read of the year and I truly could not have started with better. It follows a 15 year old Native American boy who believes he sees his dead father walk through their house one night and his mission to recreate the experience to find answers. It's an exploration of grief and trauma, and whether or not these cycles can be broken

A Mind Spread Out On the Ground by Alicia Elliott

This is a nonfiction book about the authors life experiences as she is reflecting on what it means to be Indigenous in North America. She covers every aspect of life including race, colonialism, love, identity, health, politics, parenthood, etc. but for me it was her musings on mental health, especially depression, and how not having the 'right' language to communicate what's wrong can lead to catastrophic deterioration and dehumanisation when living with your oppressor that just blew me away.

Green Fuse Burning by Tiffany Morris

This weird little story follows Rita as she spends a week at a secluded pondside cabin with the goal of completing her current art series when things start to take a graphic turn. It's about grief, identity, family, and cultural bonds and how you can be left behind when those bonds break. I was sold on this book in just one word - *Swampcore*

Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

If you can then please get ahold of the audiobook version of this so you can listen to the authors dulcet tones as she introduces you to her lifes passion as a botanist and just fills you up with hope and wonder and gives you the language to understand and celebrate the natural world and the knowledge of how you can play a positive role in it.

I Was a Teenage Slasher by Stephen Graham Jones

One of my favourite reads of 2024. This a slow, meandering stream of consciousness style story about a teenage boy in Texas in the 80s who finds himself at the centre of a slasher killing spree that's targeting his high school classmates. The way the author mythologises the slasher genre and moulds it into a possessing spirit hellbent on revenge is just so good and so original. I genuinely don't think I've ever read anything like it.

This year some of my favourite books I read were written by indigenous American authors and I just wanted to shout out a couple that I fell in love with

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones

Horror being my second most read genre, I did not think books could still get under my skin the way this one did lol. It follows four Blackfoot men who are seemingly being hunted by a vengeful... something... years after a fateful hunting trip that happened just before they went their separate ways. The horror, the dread, the something... pure nightmare fuel 10/10

Moon of the Crusted Snow by Waubgeshig Rice

An apocalyptic novel following an isolated Anishinaabe community in the far north who lose contact with the outside world. When two of their young men return from their college with dire news, they set about planning on how to survive the winter, but when outsiders follow, lines are drawn in the community that might doom them all. This book is all dread all the time, the use of dreams and the inevitability of conflict weighs heavy til the very end. An excellent apocalypse story if you're into that kind of thing.

My Heart is a Chainsaw by Stephen Graham Jones

This book follows Jade, a deeply troubled mixed race teenager with a shitty homelife who's *obsessed* with slasher movies. When she finds evidence that there's a killer running about her soon-to-be gentrified small town, she weaponises that knowledge to predict what's going to happen next. I don't think this book will work for most people, it's a little stream of consciousness, Jade's head is frequently a very difficult place to be in, but by the last page I had so much love for her as a character and the emotional rollercoaster she's on that I had to mention it here.

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger

Taking a bit of a left turn but this charming YA murder mystery really stuck with me this year. Elatsoe is a teenage girl living in an America where myths, monsters, and magic are all real every day occurrences. When her cousin dies mysteriously with no witnesses, she decides to do whatever she can, including using her ability to raise the spirits of dead animals, to solve the case. The worldbuilding was just really fun in this one, but the Native American myths and influence were the shining star for me, and the asexual rep was refreshing to see in a YA book too tbh

Split Tooth by Tanya Tagaq

The audiobook, the audiobook, the audiobook!!!! Also the physical book because formatting and illustrations, but the audiobook!!! Tanya Tagaq is an Inuit throat singer, and this novel is a genre blending of 20 years worth of the authors journal entries, poetry, and short stories, that culminates in a truly unique story about a young girl surviving her teenage years in a small tundra town in the 70s. It is sad and beautiful and hard but an experience like nothing else I read this year.

[extinctlesspains]

I really loved the salesman imagine.could you write one where the reader and the salesman had a romance.But he gives a card sending her to the games.Feeling and hurt and betrayed she does her best to survive and she ends up winning along with Gi-hun.now three years later the reader goes to visit Gi-Hun with her 2 year old daughter.(she had found out she was pregnant after the games)she walks in on Gi-hun and the salesman during Russian roulette 

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑒 [𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

☆ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ x ᴀғᴀʙ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ

☆ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏ sᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇs, ᴅɪsᴄᴏᴠᴇʀs sʜᴇ’s ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇʙᴜɪʟᴅs ʜᴇʀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ. ʏᴇᴀʀs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, sʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴғʀᴏɴᴛs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛᴇɴsᴇ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ɢɪ-ʜᴜɴ’s ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴄʜᴏᴏsɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs.

☆ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ, ᴋɪssɪɴɢ, ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ ʟᴏss, ᴀʀɢᴜɪɴɢ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɢᴜɴ ᴛᴀʟᴋ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

It all started with a simple game.

You’d been on your way home, drowning in stress and overdue bills, when a man in a sharp suit approached you at the train station.

“Care for a little fun?” he asked, holding up a red and blue envelope.

At first, you wanted to refuse. But his easy charm—and your desperation—drew you in. He explained the slap-match game, and soon you were caught in the strange, exhilarating rhythm of winning and losing. By the end, you were breathless, laughing despite the sting on your cheek.

“Not bad,” he said, handing over the cash with a smile that felt too warm, too genuine for a stranger.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him after that. When you ran into him again a few days later, he acted like it was coincidence.

“Maybe it’s fate,” he teased.

Soon, he was everywhere—buying you coffee, walking you home, and making your life feel just a little less heavy. He made you laugh, listened to your frustrations, and looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

One night, after weeks of growing closer, you found yourself in his arms. You’d invited him in after a long evening, your walls lowered by exhaustion and the warmth of his presence. You were full of ecstasy after that night. The way his lips kissed your neck, the way his thrusts were so sensual.

“You’re special, you know,” he murmured as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back.

“Do you mean that?” you whispered, scared to hear the answer.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

His words were your undoing. That night, you let him see all of you—your fears, your flaws, and your dreams. For the first time in years, you felt safe.

The illusion shattered when he slid the card across the table.

“What’s this?” you asked, staring at the embossed logo. Circle, triangle, square.

“A chance to change your life,” he said, his tone eerily calm.

You frowned, a pit of unease forming in your stomach. “What kind of chance?”

“It’s a game,” he explained. “An opportunity to win enough money to solve all your problems.”

“Why are you giving me this?” Your voice wavered, the trust you’d built with him suddenly fragile.

“Because I care about you,” he said, his gaze steady.

His face softened, but he didn’t retract the card. “I believe in you, Y/n. More than you believe in yourself.”

His words felt like a betrayal wrapped in a compliment. Against your better judgment, you took the card, driven by desperation and the hope that maybe he was right.

The games were worse than you could have imagined.

Every death chipped away at your soul, and every betrayal reminded you of his. But you refused to break. Gi-hun became your lifeline, his determination and kindness pulling you through when you felt like giving up.

“We’re going to make it,” he promised one night, his voice steady. “We have to.”

You survived, but at a cost. The prize money felt like blood money, and the nightmares lingered long after the games ended.

A month later, you discovered the pregnancy.

At first, you were terrified. The thought of raising a child alone, of explaining where her father was and why he wasn’t around, felt overwhelming. But when you heard her heartbeat for the first time, everything changed.

You named her Hana, meaning “flower.” She became the anchor that kept you grounded, her laughter a reminder that there was still beauty in the world.

When she was born, you held her close, tears streaming down your face. “You’re my miracle,” you whispered.

Hana grew into a bright, curious toddler who filled your life with light. But you couldn’t shake the shadow of her father—the man who had once made you feel safe and then abandoned you to the wolves.

Two years later, you decide to visit Gi-hun. He had become like a brother to you, someone who understood the darkness you’d endured. As you climb the stairs to his apartment, Hana babbles in your arms, clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit.

But when you reach the door, the sound of voices stops you cold.

“Are you sure about this?” Gi-hun’s voice, tense and uncertain.

“I never force anyone,” a familiar voice replies.

Your heart races as you push the door open.

Gi-hun and the salesman sit at the table, a revolver between them. The salesman looks as composed as ever, while Gi-hun is pale and trembling.

“What the hell is going on here?” you demand.

The salesman looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he sees you—and the child in your arms. “Y/n.”

Gi-hun stammers, “It’s not what it looks like—”

“You’re playing Russian roulette!” you snap, your voice rising. “How is that not exactly what it looks like?”

The salesman’s gaze flicks to Hana. “You have a daughter,” he says softly, putting the pieces together.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, clutching her closer. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to act like you care.”

“I do care,” he says, standing slowly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You lied to me,” you spit. “You used me. You sent me to those games knowing I might die.”

“I gave you a choice,” he says, his voice calm but firm.

“You gave me a death sentence,” you fire back. “And now you’re here, dragging Gi-hun into your twisted games? Haven’t you done enough damage?”

The salesman’s jaw tightens. “It’s not that simple.”

“No,” you say, your voice shaking. “It’s exactly that simple. You destroy people’s lives and pretend it’s for their own good. But you don’t get to do that to us anymore.”

He looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, his eyes lingering on Hana one last time.

“Goodbye, Y/n,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the door closes behind him, you sink into a chair, trembling.

Gi-hun reaches out, his voice filled with regret. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s not your fault,” you say, cutting him off. “He manipulates people. That’s what he does.”

Hana wriggles in your arms, her tiny hand brushing your cheek. “Mama,” she says softly, her voice filled with love.

You press a kiss to her forehead, tears slipping down your face. “We’re okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than anyone else.

Gi-hun watches you, his eyes filled with both guilt and gratitude. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

You meet his gaze, your resolve hardening. “We save each other.”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Still You Want Me

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, tooth-rotting fluff, pregnancy, a little angst if you squint, pre-established relationship.

Summary/Warnings: Dean's fought the worst evil in the world, but only one thing has really managed to scare him. His pregnant wife.

Author's Note: Request from an anon!! I got emotional with it, and I'm very sorry about that but I couldn't help myself. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.9k

“We got three hours left.” Dean returned to the parked Impala, sorting through the bags in his hands. “But we can make it back in two if I-“

Sam shook his head, taking his bag of bird feed—trail mix, but the pointless kind without any M&Ms—from Dean with a frown. “Two’s a bit stretch, don’t you think? I mean even for you, Dean, and it’s not like we’re in a rush-“

“You’re not in a rush, Sammy.” Dean muttered, dumping the rest of the snacks in the backseat. “I got a pregnant wife who’s left me three voicemails about how she’s either gonna castrate me or give me head, and-“

“Gross, dude.” Sam walked around the car, making a scrunched bitch-face of disgusting. “All you needed to say was that’s she’s got mood swings-“

“Don’t call them mood swings.” Dean dropped behind Baby’s wheel, saying Her name with a sigh. “She hates that. And you can’t charm your way out of like I can.”

“I think I could.” Sam shrugged. “She likes me more.”

“She’s my freakin’ wife-“

“She loves you.” Sam grabbed his phone as they pulled out of the lot. “She likes me. I’ve never been threatened with castration-“

“Yet.” Dean muttered. “Cas thought he was safe until he got a shade of yellow that was too red for the nursery. I mean, yellow is yellow, Sammy, but she threatened to cut off his wings-“

Sam frowned. “I don’t think she could do that-“

“Trust me, man.” Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. “She’d find a way.”

Sam just nodded, because they both knew Dean was right. He was pretty goddamn sure that, if She wanted—or if Dean pissed Her off enough—She’d figure out how to send him somewhere worse than the Empty, bring him back, then start sobbing and apologizing on Her knees all within a ten-minute span. Then She’d probably give him a blowjob, he’d saying the exact wrong dirty talk, and she’d bite off Little Dean. Shit, he’d only been gone four days for the hunt, but half that time had been spent on the phone, reassuring Her he was being safe, the hunt wasn’t a part of any world-ending scheme from a new big bad, and he’d be home soon. The time that Dean wasn’t on the phone, Sam was, promising he wouldn’t let anything happen, that Dean was sleeping well and looking at the baby names list She’d sent, and that he’d called Eileen so she wouldn’t worry either.

Annoyingly, Sam had been keeping his promises to Her. Dean read the baby names list because Sam wouldn’t let him leave the table until he did, Eileen had gotten two calls, and Dean was being safer than he’d ever been in his freaking life. At this point, he was pretty sure the pregnancy was just one long scam to make him take care of himself. He was drinking and hunting less after Her breakdown that she’d lose him, driving a little slower—just a little, he wasn’t a blind old lady—after the ice incident got him the silent treatment for three days, and he’d even tried some of Sam’s rabbit food. He’d spat it out, but he’d tried it. For Her, for the baby, and because he was terrified for his life.

Dean loved Her more than every pie in the freaking universe, but She was freaking terrifying right now. She might be the only thing he’d ever really been afraid of. Planes he could avoid. Ghosts and monster he could kill. Hell, even Lucifer had been better. At least the son of a bitch hadn’t begged to give Dean a hand job, then started sobbing because Dean tried to move it to sex and they didn’t feel pretty enough for sex. And if Lucifer had done that, Dean wouldn’t have cared. He didn’t give a shit about Lucifer. 

But he gave a shit about Her. Every time She cried it felt like someone was stabbing him, but he had less and less of a damn clue for how to help her the more pregnant She got. She’d said she felt ugly, he’d told Her she was beautiful, and that her tits looked better than ever, and She’d started accusing him of not loving her tits before. He’d missed one phone call and She’d sent Cas to teleport him home. He’d gotten the wrong candy bar and She’d had a breakdown about him not loving her enough to get the right one.

That last one was why the gas station had taken so long. Dean had triple checked every single snack he’d bought, and added a few extras just in case she changed Her mind. He’d even had Cas text him a second list after She’d told him all her requests over the phone, out of fear that he’d missed even a single one. Even now, on the road, he was running through everything one last time, because he’d gotten five different Gatorade colors, but maybe She’d want a sixth, or two of the same color, or only one color and he’d get yelled at because She didn’t even like orange-

“Hey!” Sam pulled Dean out of his thoughts with a shout. “Phone!”

“Wha-“

Sam said Her name, holding Dean’s phone in front of his face. “She’s calling you-“

“I got that.” Dean snatched the phone, shooting Sam a glare. “And that’s not safe, Sammy. Gonna get us fuckin’ killed-“

“Yeah, sure, Dean.” Sam just shrugged—even though Dean was right, that was dangerous—and nodded to the phone. “I’d pick up if I were you-“

“Shut up.” Dean muttered, ignoring Sam’s laugh as he answered the call. “Hey, baby, we’re-“

“Dean!” Her voice was a half-shriek through the phone, and Dean winced. “Holy shit, you’re alive, that’s good-“

“Course I’m alive, I promised I would be-“

“But it’s not up to you!” She was pacing. Her voice had grown frantic and high, so She was pacing. “Monsters don’t ask before they kill you, and they’d defiantly want to kill you, and Sam told me he’d take that bullet but I don’t want him to die either, and you’re both amazing hunters but if you die now, you can’t come back, and I’d miss you, I miss you now, why aren’t you home, you dick, I fucking hate you-“

Dean swallowed, saying Her name slowly as Sam snickered at his side. Asshole. “Take a breath-“

“Don’t tell me how to breathe, Winchester, I’ve been breathing my whole fucking life-“

“I know, sweetheart, I have too-“

“You’ve never had to breathe while pregnant-“

“And I’m not planning to, ever, but- just listen-“

“We should get you pregnant, it’s only fair-“

Sam started to cackle, Her voice loud enough he could obviously hear every word. It wasn’t really helpful. 

“That’s not gonna happen,” Dean muttered, giving Sam a death glare that just made him laugh more. “Sweetheart, we’ll be there soon. I promise.“

“Okay, but don’t go too fast, if you’re far, because you promised me you’d drive carefully, and you need to be safer. I don’t want to lose you.” She started to sniffle. Shit. “I can’t lose you, De, I need you, the baby needs you, and Sam and Cas are cool but they’re not you and I want you and the baby wants you. It wants you more, it hates when your gone, it just keeps kicking me and if you die I’ll be a terrible mother with a baby who hates me-“

Dean snapped Her name, pressing the Impala’s pedal to the floor. He needed to be home soon. “Listen to me. I’m not gonna do anything stupid like die, and you’re never gonna lose me. Plus, our baby won’t hate you. It’s half me. It can’t.”

There was a slightly static hum from the other side, and Dean sighed.

“I know you miss me, baby, and we can get you whatever you’re craving, but-“

“I do miss you, De.” Her voice was soft and pleading through the phone. 

But it wasn’t Her crying voice. That was her-

“I miss your cock, too. I miss touching you, and why is your bed so stupid and big-“

Dean chuckled, shaking off the whiplash. “Because I’m stupid and big-“

He could hear Her pout through the phone. “Don’t say that. You’re not stupid, and our baby’s gonna be a genius-“

“Because they’ll get their brains from you, pretty girl.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean leaned slightly forward, checking a highway sign. “Hour and a half, okay? Then I’ll be home.”

“Fine.” She mumbled. “I love you. Be careful.”

“I love you too, baby. And I’m always safe.” Dean waited for Her sigh, letting her hang up first. He’d learned to do that the hard way. “Not a word, Sammy, or I’ll shoot you.”

Sam raised his hands, palms up. “I didn’t even open my- got it.”

Dean turned his scowl back to the road, and he could be safe and get home in an hour. Both could be possible, and She’d never have to know that he’d been going 15 over the speed limit. And if She started to catch on, Dean could distract Her with his hands and dick and mouth, because—as hot as she was when she was pissed—Sam said stress wasn’t good for the baby.

They made it forty-five minutes of mostly safe driving—Dean’s hands gripping the wheel and listening to the music at a deafening volume, Sam texting Eileen and pretending he wasn’t bothered by the deafening music—before another incident.

Cas appeared in the back seat, said Her name instead of hello, Dean—already a bad sign—and looked almost genuinely scared. Dean had never seen his face do that before—red and sheepish like a child being scolded by a dinosaur—and it was a little off-putting.

He was used to Cas doing this enough to not swerve off the road, but he was still pissed. “Fucking hell, Cas, a warning would be nice-“

Cas frowned, then leaned forward, turning down the music. “Did you not hear what I said.”

“No, the music was on, I know you said-“

Cas said Her name again with Dean. “It was her message. I would, ah, prefer not to repeat it.”

Sam blinked, turning in his seat. “Why, is she-“

“She is well.” Cas’ eyes stayed on Dean in the rearview mirror. “She is feeling some very… confusing emotions. Towards Dean.”

Sam frowned. “Confusing? How-“

“She told me to relay to Dean that she hates him, and she hates hunting, and if he’s not home in forty-five minutes she’ll leave him, but she can’t leave him because she loves him more than life and she cannot live without him. Specifically his smile, voice, hands, stupid flirting that did this in the first place, and,” Cas swallowed, his voice dropping slightly as his face grew red. “Big cock.”

Dean smirked slightly—she was a menace, but damn it if he didn’t love his girl—as Sam paled next to him.

“By this,” Cas mumbled. “I assume she was referring to the baby. Which is in good health. I checked this morning.”

“Good. Thanks, Cas, but,” Dean sighed. “This could’ve been a phone call-“

“I was instructed to deliver it in person. To make sure you were safe, and driving carefully.” Cas leaned forward with a frown. “The speed limit on this highway is meant to be-“

“I know what the speed limit is.” Dean grumbled, refusing to ease his foot off the gas. “I’m tryin’ to get home, Cas.”

“I believe she would prefer you get home slower, rather than sacrificing your safety.” Cas let out a long sigh. “Although, I will admit I’d prefer you return quickly. I am not equipped to handle a pregnant woman alone, despite reading all of the books on the subject I could find. And, uh,” Cas said Her name with a red face. “Is frightening in this state.” 

Dean sighed. “Thirty minutes, dude, can you hold down the fort-“

“He could take you now?” Sam cut in with a small frown. “Cas could zap you back to the bunker, and I could drive Baby home.”

“Sammy-“

Cas nodded. “I agree with Sam’s plan. If you could pull over, Dean-“

“I’m not gonna pull over!” Dean snapped. “I can get back just fine myself!”

“But I could-“

“You won’t always be there, Cas.” Dean grunted through his teeth. “I gotta be able to take care of my family by myself. Shit, I’m doing all the safety bullcrap for it, and I’m hunting less.” He said Her name, his grip on the wheel painful. “She’s gotta know I can take care of her, and the baby. I said I’d drive home, so-“

Sam cut Dean off a sigh. “Dude, she’s gonna care way more that you’re home with her.”

“Sam is correct.” Cas said, and Dean could feel his gaze through the mirror. “I attempted to make her breakfast this morning, and she started crying. When asked, she told me that you make it better.” Cas frowned. “It was cereal.”

“C’mon, man. Let Cas take you home.”

Dean glanced over to find Sam giving him puppy eyes—the bitch—and groaned. “Fine. But if I see one scratch on Baby-“

“You’ll kill me, yeah, I know.” Sam unbuckled as Dean pulled over, not sounding nearly threatened enough. “Let’s move.”

It took a minute for Dean to get all the snacks, but the moment the last bag was in his arms Cas grabbed him by the shoulder, the world because a spinning rush, and he was home.”

“Dean!” 

He was barely on steady legs when She slammed into him, sending him stumbling slightly back as his arms wrapped around her, careful not to push too far into the baby bump.

“Hey, Sweetheart. I heard you missed me-“

“Of course I missed you, you asshole!” She pushed off of him, shoving his chest slightly. “Do you have any idea how many pies are just rotting in the fridge for you! You said the hunt would be fast, Dean, but I was stuck alone for four fucking days-“

Dean frowned. “Wasn’t Cas-“

“Cas doesn’t count!” She screamed, and over her shoulder, Cas didn’t look that offended. He’d probably gotten this outburst—and the following, tearful apology—at least twice already. “Cas isn’t you! He didn’t knock me up and then leave me-“

Dean thought about pointing out that he had not left Her, but thought better of it and let her keep shouting. She usually calmed herself down. 

Usually.

“And Cas is an angel, and he’s been okay, and I feel so bad because I was such a bitch to him, but he deserved it! He wasn’t you! And I missed you and I hate you, Dean, I fucking hate you, why weren’t you home-“

Dean caught Her hands in his, pressing a gentle kiss to Her knuckles. “I’m home now, baby-“

“I know.” She whispered, crumbling in half a second into Dean, clinging to him like a koala. “And I missed you so much, De. I can’t do the laundry with this stupid bump, I can’t do anything, I’m useless and I’m a bitch and I think made Cas cry-“

“I’d pay to see you make Cas cry,” Dean muttered Her name, running a slow hand through her hair. “And you’re not useless. You’re growing a person, that freaking awesome and insane-“

She tilted her head back, pretty eyes glossy and wide on Dean’s. “But what if I mess it up? What if I fuck the baby up and you leave me-“

“I’m never gonna leave you.”

“But I’ve been mean-“

“You’re always mean, baby.” Dean grinned at her, letting his affection show in his voice. “And it’s always pretty freakin’ hot. And you aren’t gonna fuck up the baby, and I’m not gonna leave you, but,” he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “If you wanna make Sammy cry a little more, I think he’ll deserve it.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. “I’m not making Sam cry-“

“He said you had mood swings.”

She gasped, hitting Dean’s chest.  “You’re a snitch-“

“Gotta spread the love somehow.” Dean shrugged, squeezing his hands on Her as he dropped his voice down. “But I can think of a few other ways, just you and me, to spread some better love.”

She flushed—already putty in Dean’s arms—and almost dragged him back to their room. 

And this made it worth it. All the screaming and flying objects and threats, all the living in cautious fear in his own damn home, was more than worth it for this. Not just the awesome sex—sex was always awesome, sex with Her was better than almost anything, and sex with pregnant Her was what Dean imagined crack was like—but the way that, in the end, She smiled at him no matter what. She smiled and giggled and moaned, proving to Dean in a million ways both between the sheets and after that she didn’t really hate him, and he got to rest his head on her stomach and feel a small kick near his brow. Her fingers combed through his hair peacefully, all her noises made of content, and everything was more than worth it.

Worth pushing through the worst of the screaming and moods—just like She’d pushed through all of his world-saving bullshit—to see Her peaceful face as she slept by his side. Worth letting Sam drive the Impala just once, so Dean could get home faster.

Worth the family he was finally getting to have, and being here with them. 

End Note: Sam Winchester once again being a true trooper in my stories.

Title from Next to Me by Imagine Dragons

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

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@Youdontknowwe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

[ipushhimback]

we were drunk, it happens - pt. 2

part 1: here

pairing: lando norris x verstappen!reader warnings: smut (marked with 3 red stars), oral (f receiving), p in v, no protection word count: 3k summary: Y/N attends a GP, saying if Lando wins he will be rewarded

Only a couple days later, Y/N got a message from Max.

The Monaco GP is next week. I know you are not really into F1, but I’d love for you to come, and I am sure Kelly and P would also be happy to have someone to spend their time with. What do you think? – Max

Y/N really hated Formula 1, but not because of the sport itself. She loved the fast cars, the races, how everyone wants to be the best. But her dad had ruined it all for her when they were kids.

She had always loved karting. Sometimes she was even allowed to drive Max’ kart, but when she told her dad that she also wanted to kart competitively, just like her brother, he had said she couldn’t. How could she even think of that as a girl. She would never have a chance in the sport.

Sometimes she thinks that her dad was right. She probably wouldn’t have come far as a woman, but she still would have loved to race.

Maybe it was for the better. Jos wasn’t known for being the best dad to Max. He had always pressured him. Punished him when he wasn’t good enough. And Y/N knew how it affected Max now. She didn’t know if she could have handled that as a kid.

So, from there on she had avoided Formula 1 as much as possible as it simply reminded her too much of her father.

But how could she say no to her brother. Moreover, it could be a great opportunity to spend some time with Lando. Even though they had agreed to no feelings. But honestly, Y/N didn’t know how long that would work. Or if it even could work. She had doubts.

I’m not sure. Is dad going to be there? - Y/N

No, I don’t think so. At least he didn’t say anything to me. But that doesn’t mean anything. - Max

Ok, then I guess I will come. Would you or Kelly pick me up? I don’t want to have to search for a parking lot. - Y/N

Of course. See you then. – Max

Somehow, Y/N was even looking forward to attending the Grand Prix. She didn’t know when the last time was that had happened. But now she just had to hope and pray that her dad wasn’t going to be there as well. Then she would for sure go home. She would just take a walk as it was only half an hour from her home.

She picked up her phone again and opened her chat with Lando. They exchanged their numbers before he left, so they could chat about when they could meet up again – but no feelings involved, of course.

Gonna be at the GP next week. You better win, Norris. - Y/N

She waited a bit, but Lando didn’t go online. He probably was at training, Y/N thought. But just as she wanted to out her phone on the coffee table in front of her, her phoned signaled an incoming message.

Really? How come I have never seen you at one before? But if I win, I wanna be rewarded… - Lando

Long story. But ofc you will. Why else would I tell you to win? – Y/N

K. Have to get back to training, bye. – Lando

Yeah, bye. - Y/N

Y/N couldn’t help but grin. Lando had interrupted her training. For her. To answer an unimportant message. She leaned back on the couch pillows, sighed and smiled to herself.

She sat back up. No feelings. He is probably an arrogant, rich person. She would just end up hurt if she fell for him.

She took a deep breath and got up from where she was sitting. The world champion’s sister made her way to the kitchen where she took a cup from the cupboard and made a huge coffee. The pill she took earlier did little for her headache, so she hoped that the caffeine was going to help.

Then she took her laptop and decided to watch some silly show to take her mind off Lando.

***

A week later, Y/N was ready to go to the GP. She was wearing a bright blue summer dress, her favorite. It had a lot of little white flowers printed on the fabric and it had a quite low neckline, which she hoped Lando would notice.

She actually thought about wearing something orange, in fact it had been one of her favorite colors to wear for quite a long time, but she couldn’t wear papaya-similar colors when she was there to support her brother – or when she was at least pretending to support her brother. Because even though she did not have feelings for Lando – no, really, none – she had been so horny the last couple of day, she just needed Lando to win this Grand Prix.

So now, Y/N sat in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water while scrolling through instagram and waiting for her brother and Kelly.

She watched her Labradoodle puppy trying to catch his own tail which made her laugh, so she got up to pet him.

Eventually she heard the doorbell ring. She quickly went to open the door, but instead of her brother or Kelly, it was P standing on the doorstep.

“P! Hey! What are you doing here? Are you going to drive me to the Grand Prix?”, Y/N was joking which made the five-year-old giggle.

“No, silly. I can’t drive. But Maxie said I could ring, and I have to tell you to hurry because we are late.”

“Ok, I just need to get my jacket from upstairs”, Y/N said.

“No!”, Penelope exclaimed. “You can’t. Maxie said we are late. Now come on.” P grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her outside and towards the Audi that was parked in front of her house.

The young woman new better than to argue with the little girl so she decided to just follow her. Who needed a jacket anyway. In the worst case she would just ask Max or Kelly for something warmer to wear.

An hour later Y/N was hanging around with Kelly and P around Max’ garage and she regretted that she didn’t come later. They have been standing around for what felt like hours and the race wasn’t even close to get started. The only thing that prevented her from going home again to sleep and coming back later, was P who was full of energy and Kelly who just couldn’t keep up with it anymore, being 9 months pregnant.

“Y/N, can we go to Lando? I wanna see him and tell him good luck. Can we go? Now?” P looked at Y/N with that cute little pout. “Please?”, she added after seeing the critical look on Y/N’s face.

“P… Lando is probably really busy, just like Max. Does it really have to be now?” If the Dutch woman was being honest with herself, she just really didn’t want to see Lando right now.

No. That was not correct. She wanted to see him. And that was the problem. She shouldn’t do that. No feelings. Just fun. That can’t be that hard, right?

Wrong. It can be hard. Not falling for a handsome guy with the curliest curls in the world, the cutest, widest smile existing on planed earth, the prettiest blue eyes that seemed to be green in different lightning and – stop.

“It really has to be now! If I don’t wish him luck, he won’t be good and he has to win!” P looked at her with these pleading look Y/N just can’t resist so there she was, walking with P to the McLaren garage.

“You know that Max would kill us if he saw us here?”, Y/N said jokingly. “By the way, don’t you want Max to win? Why Lando?”

“Maxie won too often. Now it is Lando’s turn. It is boring with Maxie. I like drama. And we don’t get drama when Maxie always wins. And Lando is great! He always plays with me and lets me do his hair. He has nice hair. It is curly.” P grinned happily while she explained to Y/N why Lando was so great.

A bit later they were standing in front of Lando’s garage and Y/N went to the first mechanic she spotted.

“Sorry, where is Lando? P wants to tell him good luck for the race. Is that possible?” Y/N just hoped that the mechanic would recognize P or her so she could go to Lando.

“I know her. Who are you? I am sure you understand that I can’t just let anyone to him.”

Y/N nodded. “I am Y/N Verstappen. You know, Max’ sister? Kelly didn’t come with us because, well she is pregnant and probably sleeping somewhere.”

The mechanic looked satisfied with the answer. “Ok. You just have to go straight there and then the third door on the left side. There should be his name on the door. Just knock. He will open if he isn’t preparing for the race at the moment.”

“Ok thank you. Have a nice day, bye!” Y/N looked at the five-year-old next to her who had a content look on her face.

Just a minute later they were standing in front of a wooden door, they could hear loud music from inside, so Y/N knocked again, even louder this time.

“God, how isn’t he deaf already”, she murmured more to herself than anyone else, but P commented it anyway.”

“Because he is Lando. He is not becoming deaf ever. He is great.” The older woman could barely hold the laugh that was threatening to spill over.

“Yes, he really is”, Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head at P’s enthusiasm.

Finally, the door was opening, and Y/N was standing in front of this handsome guy Lando.

“P!”, he explained.

“Hi Lando! I want to wish you good luck. Y/N said you were busy, but I had to because you have to win, ok?”, the girl asked in just one breath while falling forward and demanding a hug from the driver.

Y/N could only laugh. Too adorable was the childhood crush Penelope obviously had on the older guy.

“That’s great! Thank you, P! So, you are going to cheer for me? Isn’t Max going to be sad?”, Lando asked.

“No, he will understand. You will win. I know because I wished you good luck.”

Lando just laughed, and Y/N couldn’t help but admire how cute he was with Penelope. And that laugh… she could listen to it for hours and- stop.

***

Lando did in fact win. And Y/N couldn’t be happier about it. During the Podium celebration – Lando came in first place, Max in second and Oscar in third – she just stood in front of it, being impatient.

But then finally, Lando came to her, already changed into a hoodie and simple jeans, his hair damp from the shower he probably had.

“So… what about my reward? Should we drive to your place again or mine?”, Lando asked with that damn smirk on his face.

“Mine. I need to feed my dog.” Lando shot you a surprised look.

“You have a dog? Why didn’t I see him already?” Y/N noticed how disappointed Lando looked.

“I just got him like a week ago. He is super cute, but right now he is at my neighbor’s, and I don’t want her to spend even more of her time taking care of my dog.”

Lando just hummed and led the younger woman to his car. She let out a whistle when she saw how nice it was.

“I assume you won’t let me drive that beauty?”, she asked the brunette.

“You want to?” Y/N nodded enthusiastically.

“Go for it”, Lando eventually said, throwing his key in her direction and she caught it easily.

She let out a high-pitched squeal when she sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Carefully, she pressed the accelerator, and the car shot forward.

“This is so crazy, oh my god… I will steal that beauty from you.”

It only was a short drive to Y/N’s home, so she had actually thought about driving differently so she could enjoy the feeling of the car even longer but honestly, she didn’t want to. She knew exactly what would happen when they arrived, and she didn’t want to wait any longer for it.

But it turned out she did not know what happened next. Lando kneeled down and cuddled with her dog who seemingly enjoyed that as he fell asleep right in Lando’s arms.

“Can you leave Milo alone? He’s not the reward I meant…”, Y/N said a bit disappointed because she knew her puppy was cute, but she didn’t imagine Lando just playing with her dog for the next hour.

***

Eventually Lando set down the sleepy puppy who immediately curled up on the couch and they went upstairs, not wanting Milo to watch them do whatever they were planning to do.

“So… now I will finally get my reward?”, Lando asked, this stupid smirk back on his face.

“Oh, shut up! You were the one who needed to cuddle with Milo”, Y/N said before stepping forward and pulling Lando to her by grabbing the strings of his hoodie.

She tilted her head up and just a moment later, Lando’s lips were on her’s. Y/N hummed and opened her lips slightly.

Lando moved towards her bed, not breaking the kiss, until Y/N flopped on the mattress. He pulled back just enough to have access to her dress so he could pull it over her head, leaving her in just her underwear. Y/N then tugged at Lando’s hoodie, and he ended up helping her by slipping it off, as well as his pants. Y/N stared at his chest.

She knew she had seen it all before, when they hooked up after the dinner, but the memory of the night wasn’t too present anymore, and honestly, Y/N didn’t know how she could ever look at Lando and not think how hot this guy looks.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Lando kisser her again, rougher this time. More demanding than anything else did he press his lips on her’s. Her back arched off the bed which Lando saw as his chance to get his hands behind her back to open her bra.

“So gorgeous”, he whispered on her lips and pulled back just for Y/N to feel his mouth closing around her nipples, making her gasp.

His lips trailed lower until he stopped above the waistband of her panties. His index fingers hooked into it, and he pulled them down until he could throw them to where he thought the rest of the clothes already is.

His went even lower until his lips hovered just above her. Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked down at Lando who was spreading her legs. He looked up at her, his eyes dark and his pupils dilated.

The first touch of his tongue felt… electric and it made her back arch. He teased her with fast licks and gentle pressure which made Y/N move into his direction.

“Patience. Trust me”, Lando said, and Y/N would throw a pillow at him if it hadn’t felt this good.

But it wasn’t long until Lando grew more and more impatient, and he didn’t want to continue teasing Y/N.

His tongue worked not only faster but also firmer and soon she was teetering right on the edge. Her hands came down to grab his hair, pushing him closer to her and she couldn’t stop the loud moan from slipping through her lips.

Lando hummed against her and the vibrations just pushed her even closer to the edge. His fingers joined his tongue as he curled them in her, pressing into that sweet spot.

When Lando realized that Y/N was about to come he worked even more precise, rougher. And just like that she tripped over the edge, and she felt the release wash over her. Lando didn’t stop thrusting his fingers in and out of her until she rode out her orgasm.

Y/N felt her legs tremble and she slowly opened her eyes again just to see Lando over her. His lips were glistening from her juices as he moved to press a kiss on her lips. She tasted herself on his lips, the taste blending with the champagne he drank earlier on the podium and just the taste of him.

She pulled back just enough to mumble, “Need you, Lando. Please.”

Lando didn’t say anything just moved to get rid of the boxers he still wore. Y/N couldn’t help but stare at him, her lips parting slightly.

“Like what you see?”, he teased her though it was apparent that he wanted it just as much as she did. His cock was hard and leaking and huge. Y/N really didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of that.

“How did that fit the last time?”, she blurted out and wanted to take it back immediately when Lando chuckled.

“Wanna find out?”, he said and even though he was just teasing, Y/N knew that if she just said no, Lando would stop immediately, no questions asked.

But she nodded, wanting to finally feel him in her. Lando positioned himself between her thighs, teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock.

Y/N breath hitched as he pushed into her with one hard thrust. Her hands flew to his shoulder, and she was sure that her nails would leave marks on his skin, as she adjusted to the stretch. Lando stilled just for a moment before pulling out nearly fully before slamming back into her.

Y/N moaned his name which just seemed to fuel the Brit, and he started thrusting into her even harder.

“God, you feel so god”, he moaned, his hands gripping her hips and Y/N was sure she would have bruises by tomorrow.

Only after a few thrusts Y/N was already close again, still sensitive from her previous orgasm.

“Lando, I-“, her voice broke but Lando hummed, knowing exactly what she wanted to say.

“I know. Come for me.”

Her orgasm hit her even harder this time, her body still high from before and Lando came just a moment later, with himself buried deep inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moved but then, Lando slowly pulled away, collapsing onto the bed just next to Y/N.

She stared at the ceiling, her chest still heaving as she was catching her breath.

“Happy with your reward?”, she asked Lando.

“Very. This was amazing.”

Y/N rolled to the side to face Lando, a grin tugging at her lips.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Norris,” she said with a sly grin.

A/N: Should I write a pt. 3? I kinda want to but idk if anyone wants to read it

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part13

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: daddy issues

previous - next

The golden glow of the late afternoon sun bathed the shoreline in warm hues as the car came to a stop in front of a small, weathered beach house. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore was faint but unmistakable, a background melody that you hadn’t realized you missed until now. It had been years since you’d last set foot in the Outer Banks, but as you stepped out of the car, it felt like the island hadn’t aged a single day. 

From the backseat, Liliana was practically vibrating with excitement, her little sneakers tapping against the edge of the seat as she craned her neck to take in the house and the stretch of sand just beyond. “Is this it? Are we here? Is the beach right there? Can we go now?” Her words tumbled out in a rush, her face lit with pure anticipation. JJ had really hyped this up for her. 

JJ chuckled as he opened the trunk, throwing you a knowing glance. “Told you she wouldn’t be able to sit still the second we got here,” he teased, slinging a couple of bags over his shoulder. He leaned into the car to unbuckle Liliana, who was already wriggling like she could free herself. “Hold your horses, Lily! The sand’s not going anywhere.” 

“As if you didn’t spend the entire day filling her head with stories,” you shot back, grabbing your bag and giving him a pointed look. He just shrugged, flashing that lopsided grin of his that always brought out his dimples. 

“And I’d do it all over again,” he said, stepping closer, the playful glint in his eye unmistakable. 

Your brow shot up. “Oh, would you now?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with mock solemnity, scooping Liliana out of the car like she weighed nothing. 

The moment her feet hit the ground, Liliana shot forward like a firework, running a few steps before skidding to a halt and turning back to you both. Her face was a mix of wonder and worry. “But what if the waves get too big and take all the sand away?” she asked, her big eyes wide with concern. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you shut the car door. “That’s not how beaches work, sweetheart.” 

JJ walked over, effortlessly lifting Liliana back into his arms. Her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and her free hand pointed enthusiastically toward the dunes. “Come on, uncle JJ! You promised to show me the secret seashell spots!” 

He adopted an exaggeratedly serious expression, as if carefully considering her words. “Oh, you mean the super secret ones? The ones where mermaids leave their treasures?” 

The sharp intake of breath Liliana let out was so dramatic that you were sure the neighbors heard it. “Mermaid treasures? Really? You never told me that before!” She wriggled, trying to break free to race toward the beach. 

JJ held her a little tighter, laughing. “Easy, kiddo. First, we have to go over the beach rules. Right, Ma?” 

You arched an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms with a faint smirk. “Oh, there are rules now? This is news to me.” 

JJ grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he bounced Liliana lightly in his arms. “Rule number one: You always stick with your beach buddy.” He gave Liliana a small shake for emphasis. “And guess what? I’m your official beach buddy. Certified pro.” 

Liliana nodded seriously, like he’d just shared the most important information of her young life. “Got it. Beach buddy. What’s rule two?” 

JJ tilted his head like he was deep in thought, but you could tell he was stalling. He clearly hadn’t expected her to press for more. The realization made you stifle a laugh. 

“Rule two…” He trailed off, then snapped his fingers like he’d just remembered. “Oh, right! Never, ever leave the beach without finding the perfect seashell for your mom.” 

The warmth in your chest spread so quickly it was almost overwhelming. You didn’t even try to hide your smile. “A very important rule,” you said softly. 

“And no going into the water without our say-so,” you added, shooting JJ a quick look. He nodded firmly in agreement, giving Liliana a playful kiss on the cheek. 

“Got that, sweet pea? Most important rule of all,” he said, his voice gentler now. 

Liliana turned to you with the most serious expression her tiny face could muster. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll find the prettiest one for you. Maybe even a mermaid shell!” 

When JJ finally set her down, she took off again, her little feet leaving chaotic patterns in the sand as she dashed toward the dunes. JJ stepped beside you, setting the bags down as he followed your gaze. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly, his hand brushing yours in that casual, familiar way that always made your stomach flutter. 

You glanced at him, sunlight catching the angles of his face in a way that was almost unfair. Beneath his usual playful demeanor was that rare sincerity that always left you a little breathless. “She already loves it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Liliana’s excited shout broke through the moment. She stood at the edge of the dunes, waving frantically. “Come on, slowpokes! We’ve got mermaid treasures to find!” 

JJ nudged your shoulder and leaned in, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “You heard the boss.” 

And just like that, the two of you trailed after her, leaving the bags behind for now. As you watched Liliana’s tiny figure dart across the vast expanse of sand and sky, the weight of your old worries began to fade. 

With JJ and Liliana by your side, the past didn’t seem so heavy anymore. Their laughter and joy had a way of grounding you, steadying you like nothing else could. Almost like a balm for every wound you thought would never heal.

-

The soft rays of morning sunlight filtered through the expansive windows of Cameron Development's conference room. Rafe sat at the head of the table, pretending to listen to the consultant leading the meeting. Carefully crafted slides lit up the large screen, their graphs and figures giving the room a heavy, serious air. But Rafe’s mind was far removed from the dense mathematics on display.

He absently twirled the pen in his hand, his fingers tapping a rhythmic pattern on the table. The others in the room were focused—scribbling notes, nodding in agreement, and asking sharp questions. Yet Rafe felt as though he were sealed off in a bubble of silence, alone amidst the crowd. Inside, a weight lingered—indescribable and unshakable, like an itch beneath the skin.

“Mr. Cameron, the cost analysis for this property is displayed in the following chart...” a voice began, pulling him out of his thoughts. The woman's words, however, sounded distant, as if she were speaking from another room. Rafe’s eyes flicked to the screen, but the numbers meant nothing. They blurred together like meaningless symbols.

After a moment, his assistant Jasmine leaned over and whispered, “Mr. Cameron, is everything all right?” 

Startled, Rafe tore his gaze from the screen and looked at her. He straightened in his chair, shaking his head. “Yes, go on,” he replied, his voice harsher than he intended. Jasmine recoiled slightly before retreating, returning to her notes as the presentation continued.

But that unease—that suffocating sense of discontent—had been with him all morning. Even as he sipped his coffee earlier, he’d tried to pinpoint its source and come up empty. Maybe it was the wine he’d indulged in last night. Or the muggy weather. Yet, deep down, he knew it was neither. This wasn’t the usual stress of work. It felt like a harbinger of something unknown.

He was tired of certain things. Years ago, he’d envisioned this life differently. But now, as his father Ward Cameron prepared to pass the company to him in just a few months, Rafe couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been chasing the wrong dream. Gaining his father’s approval had been the ultimate goal for years, and now that it was within reach, he wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore.

What did he want? He couldn’t answer that either. But he knew it wasn’t this monotonous grind. Waking up, burying himself in work, and returning home late at night to collapse into bed—it was draining him. He missed having a life.

He felt like a machine. His hangouts with Kelce and Topper had dwindled. There was no one special in his life. Occasionally, they played golf, only to part ways afterward. 

Not that he wanted his old life back. The endless partying had lost its appeal long ago. He was closer to thirty than twenty. 

Parties were for the young, and he wasn’t young anymore. His life revolved around work now. But even so, he wished for something resembling balance. 

No one forced him to work until midnight—he chose it. He could leave at a normal hour, like everyone else. But then he’d just be another employee in his father’s eyes. And yet... he couldn’t tell if his father’s opinion even mattered to him anymore.

The meeting finally wrapped up. As the attendees trickled out, Rafe stayed seated, leaning against the edge of the table and staring out the window. The city outside was alive, its energy a stark contrast to the sterile stillness of the office. Cars passed, people chatted. It was just another day for them. For Rafe, nothing felt ordinary anymore.

He heard Jasmine approach but didn’t turn to her. His gaze remained on the street. Outer Banks moved at its own pace, a rhythm he’d forgotten how to follow. “What’s next on the schedule, Jasmine?”

“There’s a site visit this afternoon, and a meeting at five,” she replied. He nodded, not saying anything more. Taking the cue, Jasmine stepped away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Fishing it out, he saw Topper’s name flash on the screen. With a resigned sigh, he answered, “What is it, Topper? I’m busy.”

Grabbing his wallet and car keys from the table, Rafe listened as his old friend’s voice came through, casual and unapologetic. “Man, you’re always busy. It’s boring as fuck!”

Suppressing an eye roll, Rafe considered hanging up. Topper could be exhausting.

Unlike Rafe, Topper hadn’t taken on any family responsibilities. He lived off his parents’ wealth, hosting parties and drinking himself into oblivion on his yacht. It was the life Rafe used to lead, now a distant memory.

“If you’ve called for no reason, I’m hanging up. I’ve got work to do,” Rafe said, heading toward the elevator. He nodded briefly at a few passing colleagues, their polite smiles a reminder of his carefully curated image.

“Don’t tell me you’re skipping my birthday, man. It’s my 25th! It’s gonna be legendary! You know that new yacht my dad got? I’m packing it full of people—drinks, music, girls—the works!” Topper’s enthusiasm was palpable. 

Rafe stepped into the elevator, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. Five years ago, he might’ve been thrilled. Now, it felt like a relic of a life he’d already left behind.

“Topper,” Rafe said, his tone sharp with warning. He rubbed his temple, already tired of the conversation.

“Come on! It’s my birthday! We’re best friends! You can’t ditch me—it’s practically betrayal!” Topper’s mock indignation made Rafe huff out a reluctant laugh. As much as he could be a pain, Topper had been his closest friend since they were kids.

“Fine,” Rafe relented. “I’ll be there. But don’t expect much more from me.” 

Topper’s triumphant whoop on the other end made Rafe’s lips twitch into a faint smile. Annoying or not, Topper had a way of breaking through his walls.

“Bring Sarah too,” Topper added slyly. At that, Rafe’s smile vanished, replaced by a sharp furrow of his brows.

"Fuck off. You’re disgusting. She’s married, man." Rafe grimaced as he stepped out of the elevator, almost revolted. He couldn't stomach the idea of his best friend dating his sister again. Once was bad enough; thinking about it now made him queasy all over again.

"I know, I know. I was just joking. Besides, Ruthie would lose her mind if she saw us." Rafe rolled his eyes, heading toward the company entrance.

"If you think I’ll let you use my sister to make Ruthie jealous, I’ll come over there right now and break your nose." He pressed the button on his key fob to unlock his car parked at a distance.

"If that’s what it takes to get you to hang out, sure. Come on, man, I just wanna spend some time with my buddy." Rafe opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat.

"Yeah, no. Screw off. I’ll see you tonight."

After hanging up on Topper, Rafe let out a deep sigh, though it did nothing to ease the tension gnawing at him. He stared at the phone in his hand for a moment before tossing it onto the passenger seat. 

Of course, he’d meet up with him later. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do tonight—today had already been a miserable excuse for a day. Maybe killing time with a drink and some banter would bring a flicker of color back to his gray world.

His schedule after the meeting had him heading out to scout a new piece of land, but he found himself pulling into a store parking lot instead. Maybe he needed a bottle of water, a cup of coffee—or maybe just something, anything.

He’d always hated smoking. The handful of times he’d indulged were just to blend in, and even then, he’d sworn it off years ago. Two years clean, give or take. 

But now? Now he craved something—cigarettes, coffee, maybe just a distraction. 

Music might help, or something to drown out the endless chatter in his head. He couldn't seem to live with the gnawing unease inside him. Not just live—enjoy. Life had become tasteless.

He was tired of the monotony, yet he didn’t want to fall into the reckless chaos of living without direction. He didn’t want to become like Topper—didn’t want to go back to the way things were four years ago. He’d left that life behind. Still, he couldn’t shake the hollow sense that life itself had no meaning anymore.

Wake up. Coffee. Work. Lunch. More work. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

It wasn’t that he expected something or even hoped for it. He just believed—deep down—that his life needed spontaneity, something unscripted.

When he glanced at other people’s lives, he hated the envy that simmered under his skin. He had everything—literally everything. Half the island bore his family’s name. He had the money, the yachts, the cars, the houses, and the company that would eventually be his.

Thinking back on how hard he’d tried to earn his father’s approval made him cringe. The future had already been set in stone. He would have ended up with it all anyway. Sarah had never wanted the company, not even as a backup plan. She couldn’t picture herself stuck in a 9-to-5 grind. She’d built a life with John B—a life she’d chosen.

Sarah made her choice.

But Rafe couldn’t help feeling like he’d fought too hard for the life he now had. The absurdity of struggling for something he was destined to inherit stung.

Looking at Sarah’s life now—running that local restaurant with the guy she loved, the one they built brick by brick—it was obvious she was happy. They spent their time together. And whenever Rafe saw her, she wore a smile so big it was impossible not to notice.

She enjoyed what she did. She had a purpose, a goal—not a grandiose one, but something she’d worked toward piece by piece.

Rafe had always aimed for the top. He wanted the best and wouldn’t settle for less. Every time he fell short, he hated it. But Sarah Cameron—now Sarah Routledge—knew how to stumble and pick herself up. She wasn’t afraid to rise slowly, setting her sights a little higher each time. Rafe, on the other hand, had always gone straight for the summit.

Sometimes he wished he could be more like her—the beloved child, the one who succeeded without trying too hard, who didn’t draw ire even when they failed.

But those thoughts felt toxic now. He no longer envied Sarah the way he had years ago. He knew her ability to be loved came from the absence of the poisonous thoughts that plagued him.

He didn’t want to look at her with bitterness or jealousy anymore. He wanted to erase those thoughts from his mind. She was his sister, and he was happy for her.

Still, he couldn’t help but admire her.

Rafe pulled his car into the convenience store’s lot and stepped out quickly, desperate for a distraction.

Every time his mind drifted to the past, it felt like his heart skipped a beat. The way he’d treated his sister—the jealousy, the reckless behavior—it was nothing short of awful. He had been a terrible person, a terrible brother.

And a terrible boyfriend.

Even if he wanted to believe those years hadn’t happened, some moments—some memories—clung to him like an unwanted shadow. During the rare moments when he let his guard down, his mind always wandered back to one thing.

Regrets and what-ifs.

His thoughts would take him there, wandering through a maze of past mistakes and fleeting happiness.

Of course, he had happy moments, as everyone did. But the happiest ones stuck with him, refusing to fade—even when he drank to forget them. 

And sometimes, he hated that. The harder he tried to drown those memories in alcohol, the sharper they became. He’d never seen himself as the kind of guy to cry drunkenly. Not until the last three years.

He clung to regrets and the potential of what could have been. He despised the ideals and fears that had once defined him. He loathed how every "truth" he’d believed in had turned out to be a lie, and how he was always the wrong person at the wrong time.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but question and compare the choices his current self made versus the ones he’d made in the past. If he’d do it differently now. Would he, or wouldn’t he? The answer had never once changed: he’d undo every mistake. Every single one. He wouldn’t have done any of it. Not a single thing. 

She had been the right person at the right time. There was no way it hadn’t been the right time for her. But for him? Rafe wasn’t so sure. He’d been the wrong person at the wrong time—both, at once. 

Rafe stepped into the store, pulling his phone from his pocket as it buzzed with a notification. Jasmine. She was texting about some of the stakeholders causing trouble regarding the new property. 

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, irritation already bubbling up. He inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself. He had to think this through carefully and not let his temper get the best of him. This wasn’t some minor hiccup in his day—this was business. He couldn’t make rash decisions and screw it all up. 

He focused on steadying himself, considering what sort of issue this particular idiot might be stirring up. Was the guy testing his patience on purpose? Trying to push his boundaries? 

With another deep breath, he worked to calm the tension in his chest. Ward would have handled this with ease, but Rafe’s impulsive nature had always been his Achilles' heel. He cursed himself for it. Quickly, he typed a reply to Jasmine, asking her to cancel the evening’s meeting and schedule one with the problematic stakeholder instead. He followed up with instructions for Jasmine to stall the guy and keep things civil until then. 

As soon as the messages were sent, the sound of his own thoughts drowned out the world around him. It was like something was pulling at him, calling his name. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, trusting Jasmine to handle it. She always did. 

Looking up, he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze wandering toward the aisle ahead. That’s when he saw it—the door opening, letting in a gust of cool air. A woman walked in, a small child at her side. 

At first, he couldn’t make out her face, but something about the way she moved felt… familiar. Rafe’s heart stuttered, an inexplicable urgency creeping into his veins. He knew her. He knew her well. Or at least—he had, years ago. 

The woman stepped further into the store, placing a few items on the counter. Then, she turned. 

And Rafe froze.

You. 

It was you. He was sure of it. Nothing in his life had ever felt this certain. That face—etched into his memory, the one he used to know every detail of—was still the same, even with the faint traces time had left behind. His heart raced and sank all at once. Seeing you again, after all these years, wasn’t supposed to be this easy. 

Four years. Four long years without hearing your voice, without holding your hands. Yet you had never left his mind. Your name, your face, every moment spent with you—they were all still there, as vivid as ever. 

You had lost the golden tan you used to have, but your eyes—they spoke volumes. And your smile? God, that smile. It could kill him. A smile that big shouldn’t even be legal. 

Shit. You were still breathtaking. Rafe wanted to fall at your feet, worship you. You were still the most beautiful girl on the island, and nobody else even came close. 

He had thought about you so much. There were nights he thought he might go insane from not being able to see you. The disappointment he felt when he saw you’d removed most of your Instagram followers, leaving only a few family members, and then made your account private—it had stung more than he cared to admit. 

How many times had he stared at your profile picture, wishing he could have just one more chance to stand by your side? To go back and rewrite everything? He couldn’t count. He would’ve given up everything for a do-over. 

But then his eyes drifted to the small child by your side. His heart, which had been racing, suddenly slowed to a halt. He hadn’t noticed the little girl at first, too focused on you. She was cheerful, looking around the store with wide eyes, holding up a chocolate bar in her tiny hands. She said something to you, and you bent down with a soft smile to answer her. 

But Rafe wasn’t watching that moment of sweetness. He was staring at her face. 

Those eyes.

Rafe’s breath caught in his throat. The girl’s eyes—they were his. The same intensity, the same color, the same expression. Something deep inside him caught fire, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe properly. Everything felt so sharp and clear, yet utterly chaotic. 

He had always known this was a possibility. In the back of his mind, he had replayed your last conversation over and over. You’d told him you were drunk. He had assumed you’d terminated the pregnancy. But the thought that you might not have—that had lingered in his mind all these years. 

You’d told him you were keeping the baby. He hadn’t asked, and you hadn’t offered any more than that. 

And now, standing here, it hit him like a truck. 

A girl. 

She was his. Yours. 

Their daughter.

You lifted your head then, your eyes meeting his. And Rafe saw the panic there, the shadow of old memories and old fears. For a moment, you froze. The child clung to your leg, oblivious, as you and Rafe just stared at each other. God, he had missed looking at you. Even from a distance, he had missed seeing your face. 

But then you moved. Quickly. You grabbed the little girl’s hand and turned away, your other hand carrying the bag of groceries. You headed toward the exit without looking back. 

Rafe stood there, rooted to the spot, as if chained in place. He wanted to call out, “Wait!” But the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to chase after you, but he didn’t know what he’d say if he did. 

The way you had left made it clear you didn’t want to talk. And he had already hurt you enough. The last thing he wanted was to reopen old wounds. 

And yet, he couldn’t stop staring after you, his heart in his throat. He’d need time to process this. To figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now.

He felt like he was drowning. All he could think about was getting out, finding air, calming himself. Memories crashing against him so vividly made it hard to breathe.

As he rushed out of the store, he tried to steady his breathing, but it didn’t help. His hands were trembling as he walked to his car.

It was as if he were drowning. He just needed to get out—out of this moment, out of this place—and catch his breath. The way his past had suddenly been thrust in his face made it hard to breathe.

He left the market in a rush, trying to control his deep, shaky breaths. His hands trembled as he walked toward his car.

---

Rafe, still struggling to process what had happened in the market, found himself standing outside Sarah's office. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too hard, a physical reflection of the chaos in his mind. He had seen Bella. A little girl... and now, everything was in disarray.

He didn’t think much—he couldn’t. He was looking for a safe harbor, someone to help him shoulder the weight of seeing you again after all these years. The missed chances, the regrets—they crushed him.

He had been young then, practically a fool kid. He was never sure if the decision he’d made was the right one.

So, without a second thought, he drove to Sarah. He knew he couldn’t go to Topper. Topper wouldn’t understand—he didn’t even know about the baby. And even if he did, he was too shallow to handle something this big. Kelce wouldn’t get it either; he’d just tell Rafe to let it go. That left Sarah as his only option.

Despite the fact that Sarah could be insufferably annoying sometimes, Rafe knew she would understand. Unlike him, she was good with emotions. She could empathize and offer sound advice. She was the only one who could talk him through this.

No matter how much she had changed, when it came to you, Rafe knew Sarah would hesitate to steer him wrong. This wasn’t some trivial matter—it was serious. It was about the woman he had once loved. 

When Rafe knocked on Sarah’s door, he was a tangled mess of unease. He couldn’t get you out of his head. The way your hair had once been straight, now effortlessly wavy. The childlike look on your face had been replaced with a maturity that only made you more beautiful—almost impossibly so. You’d always been an angel in his eyes, but now? Now you seemed ethereal.

“Rafe? What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, her tone laced with worry. She was almost panicked at the sight of him. It had probably been months since her brother had shown up at her door. To see him looking so unhinged? That had been years.

“We need to talk,” Rafe said, his voice lacking its usual edge. It was almost shaky. He needed to calm down, and he needed Sarah’s clear-headedness to help him think straight.

Sarah hesitated but opened the door fully. “Of course, come in.”

Rafe walked into the living room but didn’t sit down. He shoved his hands into his pockets and paced around before facing Sarah. “I saw her today,” he blurted out. His hands, deep in his pockets, felt ice-cold despite the sweltering heat outside.

Sarah’s face froze. “Saw who?”

He steadied himself, finally saying your name. His gaze fixed on some point on the wall, far away. “She was in the market. She had a little kid with her,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He didn’t know what to do. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing again like a trapped animal. He felt like he was losing it.

Sarah stayed quiet for a moment, a shadow of concern crossing her face. “And?” She was bracing for some sort of story—a confrontation, a drama, maybe even a fight. Watching Rafe’s agitated figure pace the room was dizzying. He needed to calm down.

“And…” Rafe shook his head slowly. “Nothing happened. Just… our eyes met. Her eyes…” He trailed off, haunted. “I couldn’t stop looking. But I told you, didn’t I? She said she called me because she was drunk. And I thought that she… that she got rid of her. I thought she—” His voice cracked. “I thought she did. I never knew for sure because we stopped talking, but I saw them today. Both of them.”

Sarah took a deep breath, trying to steady her tone. She didn’t want Rafe to catch on to her growing unease. “Rafe, I’m not sure bringing this up is a good idea.”

“I just keep thinking!” Rafe’s voice rose. “It’s not like I wanted this! She told me she was drunk—what was I supposed to think?! And now—now, after all these years, I see her, and I don’t know what to do.” He was trying to rein himself in, to pull back the storm brewing inside him. He wasn’t blaming you. He regretted the pressure he had put on you back then, hated himself for it. It had always been your choice. It always would be.

But he had spent years in limbo, stuck in a no-man’s-land between missing you and wondering what had become of you.

Sarah looked down, staying silent. But Rafe’s eyes stayed locked on her, probing. “You shouldn’t do anything, Rafe. Maybe she’s just visiting. After all, she and Liliana haven’t been here in years—”

Rafe froze. His entire body went still, and his head snapped toward Sarah. “What did you say?”

Sarah stammered, realizing too late what she’d let slip. Her lips parted in panic as she cursed herself inwardly. All she had to do was keep quiet—and she hadn’t.

“I—I mean, I just—”

“Liliana?” Rafe’s voice was ice-cold, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Who’s Liliana?”

Rafe blinked, his mind whirring. Just moments ago, he had been pacing like a caged animal. Now, he stood stock-still, rigid as if he were a machine running out of power. The silence in the room was deafening. “Is that her name?” His voice grew sharper, angrier with Sarah’s continued silence. “How do you know her name?!”

Sarah stayed silent for a beat, her gaze dropping to the floor as she braced herself for the hell she knew was coming. Her lips opened and closed uselessly before she finally exhaled. She was screwed. “I—I mean, we—met a few times. In Asheville—”

Rafe stumbled back, almost losing his balance. He shook his head slowly. “You were meeting with her? While I was here, losing my mind, wondering if she was even alive?!” His voice cracked with fury, spiraling out of control. Sarah flinched at his rising volume, clasping her hands nervously in front of her. 

“Rafe—” Sarah started, her voice defensive. She knew she had messed up, big time. Not only had she let it slip, but now, with Rafe losing it right in front of her, she had to keep herself from blurting out everything else. Because if Rafe knew this, he’d want to know the whole truth.

“She didn’t want our family involved,” Sarah explained cautiously. “And you—”

“Stop right there, Sarah! That should’ve been my choice!” Rafe roared, his voice shaking with emotion. “I didn’t want it, fine, I’ll admit that. But that doesn’t mean you had the right to take away my chance to know her. Or— or what she’s done! You’re my sister—my own blood. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sarah narrowed her eyes, fists clenched. It took everything in her not to hurl the closest vase at his head. “You already made your decision, Rafe! You chose to stay out of her life, to abandon her! So don’t you dare come at me now just because I didn’t fill you in on everything she’s been up to! If you cared so much, you’d have been there! Instead of partying while she was pregnant, maybe you could’ve been in the delivery room with her!”

“Oh, so I didn’t care?!” Rafe barked out a bitter laugh, his hands trembling. You had been the first person who made him believe in love, the first to show him kindness for no reason at all. The only person who made him want to be better. The only person he ever loved. “That’s your excuse? My mistakes? You think I don’t know I screwed up? Of course, I know! But since when did that give you the right to keep everything from me?”

Sarah shot to her feet, glaring daggers at him. “Oh, don’t even start with me! Since when did me being there for my niece and her mom turn into ‘keeping things from you’? Yes, I spent time with them. What was I supposed to do? Ignore them just because you didn’t want to be in the picture? Grow up, Rafe!”

“It was my choice!” Rafe yelled, his voice raw with frustration. His eyes burned with an intensity that matched his words. “But don’t you get it? I was falling apart! Every day without her—without them—was hell! And you saw it! You knew how much I loved her! You knew why I made that choice, why I did that!”

The argument had reached a boiling point. Sarah shook her head, finally stepping back, her voice quivering with quiet fury. “Oh, I remember your ‘choice,’ Rafe. The one you made to earn Dad’s approval by erasing her and the baby. That’s what we’re talking about, right? Own it for once!” Her voice dripped with venom, though her expression was eerily calm. She was done yelling.

At this point, she didn’t think there was anything left to defend. Rafe wasn’t the only one who had suffered. Sarah had been there. She had been there for you when you gave birth, and the father of your child wasn’t. Instead, JJ, Cleo, Pope, Kiara, John B, and Sarah herself had stood by your side. But Rafe? Nowhere to be found.

“At least when you got wasted, you had the luxury of waking up the next morning and moving on. She didn’t. Eight months after you walked out, she was leaking milk through her shirt while a baby screamed in the next room, and she was still recovering from giving birth. You left her alone, Rafe. So no, you don’t get to come in here and play the victim. I didn’t tell you, yeah. You’re damn right I didn’t.” Sarah crossed her arms, forcing herself to stay calm. Despite everything, he was still her brother.

“And you know what? I’m glad I didn’t. Because if you had even a shred of courage, you would’ve been there to find out yourself.”

Rafe froze for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to contain himself. He took a long, shaky breath, but the anger in his eyes refused to fade. Finally, he shook his head, his jaw tight, and turned sharply toward the door. The slam echoed through the house, leaving Sarah standing there in silence.

Everything was a disaster. He hated it all—hated the situation, hated himself. But most of all, he hated that Sarah was right. 

[wosoloml]

— third date || alessia russo x reader

summary: after your third date with alessia things get heated and one things lead to the other

from this request

masterlist

wanrings: smut, alessia top, reader bottom, fingering, use of nicknames, oral, thats it kinda

smut but with fluff

wc: 2,464 words.

a/n: I hope my girlfriend isn’t reading this. If you do, you don’t. <3 I’ve been listening to too sweet by Hozier while writing this, so maybe it’s fun to listen to it while reading! enjoy !

—————

"This was an amazing movie choice, I have to admit," Alessia said, her smile growing as she glanced at me.

"Really?" I arched an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in my voice. "I thought you hated cheesy romcoms."

Alessia stepped closer, her hands resting gently on my waist. She brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and leaned in, her voice a soft whisper. "How could I hate something so sweet when I’m experiencing it with the person who means the world to me?"

Her words made my heart flutter, but I fought to keep my composure. "God, Russo," I said with a smirk, "you should be writing those movies next time."

Something changed between us at the cinema—I could feel it.

It all began when I picked her up from her home. The way she greeted me—her smile, her tone—everything about today felt so much more intense.

From the not-so-innocent touches we exchanged at the cinema to the way her tongue slipped into my mouth when we kissed tonight, every moment carried a spark I couldn’t ignore.

And I have to admit—I liked it.

We’ve been on two other dates before today, and ever since the last time we met, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about taking the next step.

It won’t be our first time, but I’m still nervous. I mean, it’s the Alessia Russo. I’m sure she’s far more experienced than I am.

The way she linked her arm through mine pulled me back into reality. "Lost in your thoughts, darling?" she asked, and I felt exposed.

"I was just thinking about the movie," I tried to play it cool. "I really liked it."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing I might be holding something back. She gave my arm a gentle squeeze as we continued walking.

"The movie? That's it? Nothing else on your mind?" she teased, nudging me lightly with her shoulder.

"Nothing else," I smiled innocently in her direction.

I tried to change the subject by asking if I should drop her off at home, and of course, she agreed. The drive back to her apartment was relaxed… except for her hand on my thigh, and that damn thumb of hers, slowly circling higher the closer we got to her place. It was getting harder to focus on the road with a certain blonde teasing me like that.

As we approached her door, she suddenly grew quiet and looked deep into my eyes. I knew she wanted to say something, so I stayed silent. Her voice broke the intense silence between us.

"Thanks for driving me home," she said, her voice low and sultry. I was unable to find the right words, so I pulled her close and pressed my lips to hers. After a few seconds of processing what was happening, she kissed me back. And when I say she kissed me back, I mean she kissed me back. The way her hands cupped my face, her tongue pleading for me to let her in, and the fight for dominance made me weak in the knees. I knew she liked to be the dominant one in the relationship, but I never imagined I'd enjoy it this much.

She leaned back slightly, being the first to break the silence.

"Wow, if that’s how you react every time I thank you, I should do it more often," she smirked, her mischievous grin lighting up her face. I could feel my cheeks flush, and my smile shifted into a shy giggle.

"Maybe you want to come upstairs with me? I could show you my little cozy apartment. But only if you want to—it's totally fine if you don't." She trailed off, and I had to interrupt her before she started getting too wild.

"Lessi," I said, grabbing her hand. "I'd love to come upstairs with you."

I thought it was cute how she turned all shy, asking me to come into her private space after just kissing me like that. But that’s why I fell for her.

Little did I know that the part where she shows me her apartment would be the most irrelevant one.

As Alessia pulled you into her house and closed the door behind you, she pushed you up against the wall, her lips crashing into yours in a heated kiss. Her hands roamed over your body as she pressed herself closer to you. Her lips traced a path down your jawline, finding a sensitive spot on your neck that made you gasp lightly. She noticed your soft gasp but simply smirked at your neck as she continued.

Alessia's smirk widened as she kissed and nipped at your neck, noticing the effect it had on you. Her hands slowly moved down your body, unbuttoning your shirt and revealing more of your skin to her touch.

She locked eyes with you, seeking permission. You were too lost for words, so you simply nodded in her direction. But that wasn't enough for her. "Use your words, baby," were the only words that left her mouth, breathless.

A shiver ran down your spine as Alessia spoke, her breathless voice sending a wave of desire through you. You met her gaze, your own eyes filled with a mixture of arousal and eagerness.

"Yes," you managed to say, your own voice betraying your desperation. "Please, yes."

"Yes what my love? What do you want?"

As Alessia asked the question, her lips hovered just above your ear, her breath hot against your skin, her body still pressed against yours. You could feel her body heat, the way she trembled with her own desire.

"I want you," you said, your voice low and raspy. "I want you now."

Without saying a word, Alessia pulled you into her living room and guided you to the couch. Her hand remained linked with yours as she led you. The room was softly lit by a dim lamp, casting a warm, intimate glow. She gently pushed you down onto the plush cushions, straddling your lap as her gaze met yours. Her eyes, darkened with desire, locked onto you, her chest rising and falling with each heated breath.

"You're so gorgeous," she whispered, her fingertips tracing a path down your chest.

I'm too stunned by the fact that she's straddling my lap, so I just stare at her, my eyes filled with desire.

Alessia smiled at your reaction, enjoying the obvious effect she had on you. Her hips moved against yours, a slow and sensuous rhythm that drove you crazy. She brought her lips to your ear again, her voice a low murmur.

"I love seeing you like this," she said, her breath hot against your skin. "So flustered and undone already, and we've barely even started."

I gulped at her words, my throat tight with anticipation. "I need you so badly," I begged, desperate for her to touch me, to do whatever it took to relieve this overwhelming desire

Her own hunger and desire growing with every word. She leans closer, her lips grazing your earlobe, her voice a needy whisper.

"That's it," she murmurs, her hands roaming over your body. "Beg for me, baby. Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it."

"I want you to fuck me," I said, my voice betraying the shock I felt at my own words, yet driven by the undeniable need to finish what we'd started.

As the words left your mouth, a shiver ran through Alessia's body. She looked down at you, her eyes darkened with need.

"That's what I wanted to hear," she whispered, her hands sliding to the hem of your shirt. "I'm going to give you what you need, my love."

Alessia slowly pulled your shirt up and over your head, her fingers trailing along your bare skin. She took a moment to admire the sight of you beneath her, her eyes roving over your chest, taking in every inch of you.

She murmured, "God, you're so beautiful." Her hands roamed down your sides. "I can't get enough of you." I close my eyes and enjoy every second of her hands on my bare skin.

She leans down and kisses your collarbone, her lips moving lower, her tongue tracing a path along your skin.

She teases me by kissing my titts and putting her tongue around my nipple. I made a small noise when I felt her mouth on my breast. With her hand, she made sure to stimulate my other nipple. She knew exactly what she was doing and how much she turns me on.

My back involuntarily arching as her lips and tongue worked their magic.

"I love hearing you moan," she murmured. "It drives me crazy when you make those sounds. She made sure that everyone passing her apartment knew who is fucking you right now.

Alessia's hands move to your thigh as she begins to unbutton your jeans. her touch is slow and deliberate, a torturous tease that leaves you aching for more.

"I want to taste you," she says quietly, her voice full of hunger. She is slipping her finger into your pants as she notices how already wet you are. "That's all for me, sweetheart? I blushed at her comment, feeling embarrassed that she had aroused me so much before even touching me. "God, you're so hot."

You shivered as her fingers teased your entrance. She hesitated for a few seconds before inserting her finger. I grasped at the sudden contact between my folds, I love how her finger feels inside of me.

As you took her fingers into your mouth, Alessia's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She let out a ragged moan, the sight and feeling of you tasting her driving her wild.

As she leaned in to kiss you, her tongue slipped into your mouth, seeking out the taste of yourself on your lips. Alessia let out a low moan as she tasted you, hungry for more.

"You taste so sweet; I want you to come undone on my fingers."

Alessia's hand returned to your sensitive area, her fingers finding their way back. "You like that, baby?" she asked, a smirk playing on her lips. "You want more?" I nodded at her. "Your words, baby."

"Yes. I want more. Please stretch me with your fingers Alessia" unable to focus on anything else than her touch on your skin.

"Mmm good girl," she said, her fingers sliding deeper into your folds. A moan escaped my lips. It feels so good to have her inside me.

Her fingers curled inside you, seeking out that sweet spot that would have you moaning. She added another figer to fully satisfy me after noticing my reaction.

"Oh my god, please, Alessia." She began pushing her fingers roughly inside me, instantly understanding what I wanted from her. My hands found her hair as I tried to pull her head to my breast. Her fingers moved harder and faster as she began to suck on my nipples. The cozy room was filled with the sounds of my low moans and her palm pushing against my wet, bare pussy.

She knows exactly how to make you feel good, her lips finding their way back to your neck as she speaks. "You're so close, aren't you, baby.""Please" was the only word that left my mouth. "Please what, darling?" "Please let me cum."Her eyes darkened with desire, clearly enjoying how desperate you were for release.

She knew you were close by the way your folds were clenching around her fingers. "That's it, baby. You're such a good girl. Come for  me.  That's everything you needed to come undone on her fingers. She felt so amazing inside of you. Her fingers continued her movements to help you ride out your orgasm. She watches your face as you finish, her eyes dark with passion. A satisfied smile spreads over her face as she pulls her fingers out. She lifts them to her mouth, tasting you once again.

"You're so damn sweet," she muttered, clearly enjoying your taste. "I could do that all night."

"Now it's my turn.". 

[stylesispunk]

The soldier in the armour | part ii

marcus acacius x f!reader

masterlist | previous part | next part

summary: Acacius left for battle while emperor Geta makes his way back to you in a sinister way. After returning, Acacius realizes he is not enough to protect you and you reunite with someone from your past.

wc: 14k???

warning: angst, fluff, age gap, power imbalance, harassment, anxiety, someone bites another person on here, allusions to smut, mentions of poisoning, mentions of blood, reader has a mental breakdown on this one.

a/n: hello! First of all I want to thank everyone for the amount of love you gave to the first part of this fic that was a request and it was going to be a one piece only. But now it has become a series. This chapter is full of a lot of things so i hope you like it and share your thoughts with me. I spent the whole afternoon finishing this and the weather is almost killing me. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You could feel the change of beating in your heart when marcus acacius looked at you now. The years of yearning and longing for freedom felt like they had met a fate the moment he said three words to you.

The golden cage you had been part of, the years of being of prisoner faded to nothing after he poured all his love for you in that kiss, in the way he touched every single inch of your skin when he made love to you.

You felt the freedom kissing your skin because you had him. You felt a string connecting both hearts beating and that was the way you coped with everything that was taken away from you.

acacius saved you, he completed you and made this world feel less lonely for you.

He felt the same, since how his hand burn over your skin or your heart beated like a beast under his palm.

He had come to learn how to love you, beyond the duty and protection he has swore to work for.

Now you were his heart and your life his purpose.

The hours before he had to leave for battle, the air around the Villa felt heavier. Charged with and unspoken tension of an impeding separation just when he had become addicted to your presence next to him.

Acacius busied himself with preparations, knowing he would give up everything in order to stay back with you. But he knew better. He was aware of how the glories he brought back from battles became the privileges that would keep your life safe.

After Lucilla sent Lucius away, you and her stayed in Rome, becoming prisoners under the ruling madness of Emperor Geta and Caracalla.

Always at bay, always with your life depending of the outcomes of Acacius battles.

And you, bound by blood and beauty, remained, a pawn in a dangerous game where your survival now depended not only on Acacius’ victories but also on Geta's unpredictable affection.

Geta’s obsession with you had become a double-edged sword. His love, if it could be called that, offered a semblance of protection, a shield against Caracalla’s wrath. Yet it was a prison of its own, trapping you within the steel of a cage, where every glance, every word, was laden with passive threats. You lived in constant vigilance, knowing that Geta's favor could turn to fury in an instant, and that fury could mean your end.

Now, Acacius battles weighed heavier over his shoulder. From this moment, with every campaign, he would risk his life, leaving you to endure the suffocating air of the emperor’s court, where you were little more than a gilded possession. He hated it, the helplessness, the waiting, the gnawing fear that one day he might not return, and you would be left to fend off Geta's advances alone.

You watched him from a distance, your fingers gripping the edge of the balcony railing. His broad shoulders bore the weight of his duty, but the occasional glance he cast your way betrayed the turmoil beneath his composed exterior. He was a man bound by honor, but also by a love that had grown more profound with each stolen moment between you.

"Will you look at me?" you whispered, your voice breaking the silence that had grown unbearable for him.

Acacius paused, his hands stilling on the edge of the balcony. Slowly, he turned to face you, and the weight of his gaze, filled with longing, regret, and the love he could never fully express in words, made your breath hitch.

"I fear," he began, his voice rough with emotion, "that if I do, I may never be able to leave."

You stepped closer, slowly, as though you could hold back time itself. "Then don't," you said, your hands reaching for him, your touch soft yet insistent as you placed your palms over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath his clothes.

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead falling to rest against yours. "You deserve more than this life of waiting, of uncertainty. I cannot give you freedom, not truly. All I can give is my promise that I will return."

"Acacius, that’s all I need from you." you said, your voice firm, closing your eyes as you felt his warm enveloping you. “I have a surprise for you”

Acacius raised his head slightly, his brows knitting together in curiosity. “A surprise?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with intrigue.

You nodded, a small smile breaking in this moment of madness. “Come with me,” you said, taking his hand in yours. He hesitated for a moment, his sense of duty tugging at him, but the warmth of your touch and the glimmer in your eyes proved irresistible.

You led him through the villa, weaving through the familiar halls now draped in the golden hues of early evening. The air grew warmer as you approached the chamber where the servants had worked quietly under your instruction. Pushing the doors open, you revealed the scene you had prepared.

The bath was set within a sunken marble basin, steaming water rippling gently beneath a scattering of rose petals. The room was lit by the soft glow of dozens of candles, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. The scent of lavender and sandalwood lingered in the air, soothing and rich.

Acacius stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. “You did this… for me?”

You turned to face him, your smile soft and filled with affection. “You’re always giving so much of yourself to Rome, to the battles, and now to protect me. Tonight, I want you to let me take care of you.”

His eyes softened as they landed on you. "You’ve thought of everything," he murmured, his voice laced with gratitude.

You graced a small smile. "You deserve at least this much."

Acacius began to remove the layers he had worn all day, setting them aside piece by piece until he stood before you in nothing but the bare vulnerability you had come to know by yourself. He stepped into the bath, sighing as the warm water enveloped him, washing away the weight of the day.

You moved to leave, thinking he might prefer solitude, but his voice stopped you.

"Stay," he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "I want you close tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat at the quiet plea in his tone. You hesitated only briefly before nodding. Removing your dress, you stepped into the bath, the warmth of the water immediately soothing your tense muscles.

Acacius reached for you, pulling you gently toward him until you were nestled against his chest. His strong arms encircled you, his hand brushing lightly against your damp hair.

"For all the battles I’ve fought," he murmured, his lips brushing your temple, "this one feels different. I can’t bear to leave you behind."

"You’ll come back," you whispered, your voice firm despite the lump in your throat.

He tilted your chin up, his gaze piercing and filled with emotion. "I will move heaven and earth to return to you, my lady." he promised.

You sat in the water together, the silence filled with the unspoken fear and hope that swirled between you. For that moment, there was no war, no emperors, no uncertain future, just the two of you, bound together by a love that defied everything else.

But still, you shifted slightly, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body and the soothing water wrapped around you, but the weight of reality pressed against your mind. After a moment, you spoke, your voice soft but filled with worry.

"I don’t like you fighting Geta and Caracalla’s battles," you admitted, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “They have done nothing to deserve the place they are at. All his glory comes from blood and murder. They don’t deserve loyalty.”

He sighed deeply, his hand stroking your back in slow, comforting motions. "I know," he said, his voice heavy with the same frustration. "I’ve questioned my place in their service more times than I can count. But my duty... it’s the only thing that keeps you safe. As long as I fight their battles, they have no reason to turn their cruelty toward you or Lucilla."

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. The name of your mother troubled you. You couldn’t even name the feeling, perhaps jealousy. After all, the years Acacius had spent his life on battle were to protect her before you.

"My happiness," he whispered, “It’s you.” He said as he could read your thoughts

"How was it like?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible above the gentle ripples of the water. "When you served in Maximus's army?"

Acacius shifted slightly, the tension in his body growing palpable. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, and he took a moment before responding. "It was... different," he began cautiously, his hand never ceasing its soothing caress along your back. "Maximus was a man of honor. He fought for the empire, yes, but also for something greater. For justice, for the people."

You noticed the change in his demeanor, the way his jaw tightened and his gaze drifted, as though he were remembering something painful. You knew there was more he wasn’t telling you, a truth hidden beneath his words. "You respected him," you said, more a statement than a question.

"Yes," Acacius admitted, his voice low. "He was a leader unlike any other.”

You studied his face, searching for more, for the deeper truth that lay behind his guarded expression. "Did you know him well?" you asked, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Acacius hesitated, his eyes meeting yours with a flicker of hesitation. "I knew him," he said carefully. "He was a great man, but like all great men, he carried his burdens."

There was something in the way he spoke, a weight that suggested he knew more than he was letting on. Your curiosity piqued, but you decided to tread carefully. "My mother never spoke much about him," you said quietly. "Only that he was a noble warrior."

Acacius's hand stilled on your back, and he took a deep breath. "He was loved by people." he said gently.

You nodded, understanding the unspoken words. "I remember him more than I remember my own father," you murmured, your mind drifting to the stories you had heard of Maximus’s valor and strength. “I remember seeing him fighting at the colosseum and I remember how Lucius got obsessed with becoming a gladiator…”

Your eyes drifted somewhere else as if you were trying to find an exact extract of a moment where you would find your brother inside your memories. Acacius’s expression softened, but there was a shadow in his eyes. He knew a truth beyond, something Lucilla had confessed to him only and he had sworn never tell.

 "He defeated your uncle," he reminded you, his voice barely above a whisper trying to bring you back from your thoughts.

“I know. I can recall that day.” You said, and after a pause you spoke again. “He wasn’t different from Geta or Caracalla, but I remember how much he loved Lucius. More than me even.” You looked up at him for a moment, “I’ve never feel truly seen, truly loved…”

Acacius kissed your head, his lips lingering against your damp hair as though trying to imprint the moment into his memory. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies.

“You will always be loved by me” he whispered as you closed your eyes at the sensation of his lips on your head. “Until my last breath.”

You tilted your head back slightly to look up at him again, your eyes searching his face. The flickering light of the lamps cast soft shadows across his strong features, but it couldn’t mask the vulnerability in his expression.

"You remind me of Maximus” you said, tracing his jawline “You’re the strongest man I know," you whispered, placing your hand gently on his cheek. "You’ll come back to me, General Acacius. I believe in you."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remained solemn. "You make me want to survive every impossible fight, just to see your face again."

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own. The bathwater lapped softly around you, the warmth a stark contrast to the cold reality of the coming day.

"Promise me something," he said after a long silence.

"Anything," you replied without hesitation.

"If I fall—"

"No," you interrupted, your voice sharp.

"Listen," he urged, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your arm. "If I fall, I need to know you’ll keep going. You’ll live, for yourself.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. "You’ve always been the braver of us," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "But I need to know you’ll fight for your happiness, even if I’m not there."

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the ache in your chest. "I’ll try," you promised, though the words felt hollow. You didn’t want to confess he had made your life easier to bare.

He kissed you then, not with urgency or desperation, but with a deep, abiding love that seemed to say everything words could not express. It was devotion in a silent vow; he would return to you.

And as the water cooled and the night deepened, you stayed in his arms, unwilling to let go, even as the weight of tomorrow loomed over you both.

When the early morning light peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the bed where you still slept. Acacius lay awake, his arms wrapped around you, his chest pressed to your bare back, feeling your skin against his own. He observed the gentle rise and fall of your breathing, committing the peaceful moment to memory. Every fiber of his being ached at the thought of leaving you behind haunted by the demons that threatened to take you away.

Quietly, he shifted, slipping his arm from under you and placing a kiss on your shoulder. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake. With a heavy heart, he got out of bed, moving through the bedroom as he dressed in his armor, getting ready for another senseless battle. The sound of leather straps and the faint clink of metal echoed softly in the room.

Acacius paused at the edge of the bed, glancing back at you one last time. Your face, serene and unguarded in sleep, was a sight he wanted to carry with him into battle. He closed his eyes briefly, murmuring a silent prayer for strength before placing a longing kiss on your temple and stepping out into the hall.

Outside, a handful of guards waited, their expressions tense but respectful. They fell into step behind him as he strode toward the courtyard, the weight of his duty heavy on his shoulders. The morning air was crisp, a sharp contrast to the warmth he had just left behind.

“General!” a guard called suddenly pointing at behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

He turned, his heart clenching at the sight of you running toward him, barefoot, wearing your nightgown you must had put on in hurry. Your hair was loose, tumbling in waves around your face, and your eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Acacius!” you called out, your voice trembling with urgency.

He met you halfway, his hands reaching out to steady you as you nearly collided with him. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, his tone both tender and concerned.

“I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye,” you said, your breaths coming in quick gasps from running. “Not like that.”

His expression softened, and he pulled you into his arms, ignoring the curious gazes of the guards. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his armor as though you could anchor him to you.

“It’s too early for you to be outside. You’re freezing,” he murmured, rubbing his hands over your arms to warm you.

“I don’t care,” you replied fiercely, looking up at him. “I couldn’t let you go without telling you that I love you, Acacius. And I’ll be waiting for you to come back to me.”

His breath hitched at your words, and for a moment, the stoic general was nowhere to be seen. In his place was a man who adored you with every fiber of his being.

“I love you, too,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“You have made my life worth living again,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the weight of your words hung heavy between you.

His breath caught as he stared into your eyes, the raw vulnerability there piercing through every defense he had ever built. The battlefield, the war, the chaos Rome had become, all of it disappeared in that moment. There was only you, grounding him, giving him a purpose beyond the duty that had defined his life.

Acacius covered your hands with his own, the calloused warmth of his touch steadying your shaking fingers. “You’ve done the same for me,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I was lost until you brought me back to life.”

You smiled faintly, though tears streamed down your face. “Promise me you’ll come back. Promise me this won’t be the last time I see you like this.”

“I swear it,” he said firmly, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “By the gods, I’ll return to you. Nothing will keep me away.”

Your lips brushed his in a fleeting kiss, filled with all the love and hope you couldn’t put into more words. When he pulled away, he gently placed your hands back at your sides, as though committing every detail of you to memory.

“I’ll see you soon, my lady.” he said softly, before mounting his horse.

As he rode away, you stood there, the wind tugging at your gown, your heart heavy with emptiness. Watching him disappear into the horizon, you clung to his promise and touch, letting it light a spark of hope in the uncertain of what was coming without him anchor.

A gentle hand touched your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned to see one of your loyal servants, her eyes filled with concern as she took in the sight of your tear-streaked face.

"Come with me, my lady," she urged softly, her voice full of care. "You’ll catch a cold out here."

You nodded silently, allowing her to guide you back toward the warmth of the villa. The wind whipped around you, carrying the scent of the olives and the distant sound of Acacius’s departing horse still in your mind. Each step felt heavier than the last, your heart aching with the weight of a farewell.

Once inside, the servant led you to your chambers, where a fire crackled warmly in the hearth. She helped you out of your damp gown, wrapping a thick shawl around your shoulders. "You need to rest, my lady," she said kindly, her hands lingering on yours in a gesture of comfort. "General Acacius will return sooner than you expect.”

You offered her a faint smile, though the ache in your chest was still fresh. "Thank you," you whispered, sinking into the plush cushions of the chair by the fire.

The servant bowed her head slightly before retreating, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, their warmth doing little to ease the chill in your heart. You stared into the fire, replaying Acacius’s words in your mind, clinging to his promise as though it were a lifeline.

A few weeks had passed since Acacius left for battle, the days had stretched into endless hours that seem not to meet the dawn, time felt longer, the nights colder without Acacius filling the space. You found yourself feeling more tired lately, there were new changes happening to you body, some pain, uncomfortable sensation that you blamed on the deep emptiness settling in your heart that nothing seemed to fill.

So, as you sat at the table for breakfast, the familiar clink of silverware was the only sound in the room. Lucilla sat across from you, her regal presence unshaken, but there was a softness in her eyes as she regarded you. The way he looked at you, as a mother who was supposed to love her daughter.

"Acacius will return soon, my child," she said gently, her voice calm and reassuring. "He never—"

Before she could finish, you interrupted, a sharp edge to your tone. "You must know a lot about it," you said, your gaze fixed on your plate. The bitterness in your voice was unmistakable.

Lucilla’s expression shifted, a flicker of pain crossing her face. She set down her cup, her hands folding neatly in her lap. "What do you mean?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with a sorrow that mirrored your own.

You looked up, the walls you had built around your heart beginning to crack. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and shared pain. “You were the one he returned to before.” you said, bitterness inking your tongue.

Lucilla's face softened, her eyes reflecting the guilt he carried, the story between her and Marcus that seemed unfinished. She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on the table.

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He was bound to me once, by duty and by the burdens we shared. But that was a different time, a different life.”

You felt the sting of her words, the truth you had known but never fully confronted. “Different time?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Your question hung in the air, thick with the weight of your emotions. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you looked at your mother, waiting for an answer. The air between you was charged with uncertainty, like the quiet before a storm.

Lucilla shook her head, her gaze steady and filled with an intensity that made your heart ache. “Yes” she said firmly. “You are his heart now. I see the way he looks at you as if the world begins and ends with you.” She paused for a bit "I never wanted you to be caught in the politics of this empire, my dear," she said, her voice soft but laden with guilt. "I never wanted you to be a pawn in a game of power between two men. But I feared what would happen if I didn't do something."

You looked at your mother, the weight of your question pressing on you. The air between you was thick with the tension of everything unspoken, of truths that had been hidden for so long. Your voice trembled slightly as you asked, "Would you have married Acacius if the emperor hadn’t courted me first? Would you have still arranged for him to marry me, or would you have chosen a different path for us?"

Her gaze fell for a brief moment before she raised it to meet yours again. "Had it not been for Emperor Geta, I would have never allowed Acacius to marry you.”

A bitter smile tugged at your lips as you absorbed her words. "But you didn't expect he would end up loving me instead of you," you said, your voice laced with a mix of hurt and defiance.

Lucilla’s eyes flickered with a flash of emotion-wether it was regret or something deeper, you couldn’t quite tell. She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her tone measured but filled with a quiet resignation. "No, I didn’t expect that. I thought his loyalty would always lie with me. I never imagined he would find in you what he once saw in me."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her confession settling heavily in your chest. "And yet, you still pushed us together, knowing it would tether me to a life I never wanted."

"I believed I was protecting you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "From the dangers of court, from the whims of powerful men. I thought if you were with someone like Acacius, someone strong and honorable, you would be safe."

"Safe?" you echoed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You call this safety? Acacius leaving to fight battles to kept your place in this empire and protect me?” You took a deep breath, anger raising within you. "And what about Acacius? Did you ever consider how he felt in all of this?”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she met your gaze once more. "I didn’t think he could love anyone else," she said, her voice breaking. "I thought his heart was mine alone, even if our paths diverged. I never anticipated that he would find solace, comfort, love... in you."

The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of her words pressing down. "Well, he did," you said, your voice steady but filled with a quiet strength. "And now we’re both paying the price for your miscalculations."

Lucilla reached out, her hand hovering in the air between you. "I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered. "I only wanted what was best for you."

The silence stretched once more, but this time, it was not filled with bitterness. It was laden with understanding, a shared pain that neither of you could escape.

“I only want him to come back,” you whispered, finally allowing the tears to fall. “I want him to be safe.”

Lucilla reached out, her hand covering yours in a gesture of comfort. “He will,” she promised, her voice soft but resolute. “Acacius will return, because his heart belongs to you now, and nothing will keep him away.”

You couldn’t bear the thought of a life without him. Ever since Acacius had shown you kindness, the warmth his love could offer, he had filled the hollow spaces in your heart. You had become addicted to him, to the gentle way he would brush a stray hair from your face, to the force of his arms around your waist when the weight of the world threatened to crush you.

Before Acacius, your life had been a series of obligations and sacrifices, each day blending into the next in a monotonous cycle of duty you didn’t choose. But then he appeared, his unwavering loyalty and quiet strength breaking through the walls you had built around yourself. He had finally seen you as a woman with dreams, fears, and a desperate need for freedom.

You and Lucilla remained in a heavy silence, the weight of your shared worries filling the space of the room. The warmth of her hand on yours felt protective as never before.

A servant entered the room, bowing respectfully before addressing Lucilla. "My lady, Emperor Geta has requested your presence."

Lucilla shook her head, her voice firm yet calm. "Later," she said, unwilling to let the fragile moment between you both be shattered.

The servant hesitated, shifting uncomfortably before speaking again. "No, not you, my lady. Her." His gaze flicked toward you, and the room seemed to grow colder.

Lucilla’s hand tightened on yours, her expression hardening as she closed her eyes briefly, understanding the implications of Geta’s request. She knew this moment would come, had dreaded it ever since Acacius left for battle. Geta’s twisted fascination with you was no secret to her to you, neither to Acacius. That was the reason of your marriage after all, him providing protection from him.  She feared what it meant now that Acacius was no longer there to shield you.

"Stay calm," she whispered, her eyes opening to meet yours with a shining light. "I will do everything in my power to protect you. Remember, you are stronger than you think."

Her words were meant to reassure, but the unease in her voice betrayed her true fear. You swallowed hard, trying to gather your courage as you stood. The servant’s eyes avoided yours, his discomfort evident as he waited to escort you.

With one last squeeze of your mother’s hand, you followed the servant, each step feeling heavier than the last. The shadow of Geta loomed over you, his intentions clear and menacing. But even as dread settled in your chest, you clung to Lucilla’s words and the hope that Acacius would return, his promise lighting a fragile spark in the darkness.

The quiet of the palace gardens was only broken by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant murmurs of servants. Emperor Geta was sitting on the stone bench, perhaps trying to gather his thoughts, when he noticed your presence. He turned around to face you, his golden robe gleamed faintly under the pale light of the sun, and there was an intensity in his eyes that unsettled you.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he accused you, his voice carried yearning and longing. “I understand why, but I needed to see you. To speak to you.”

You stayed silent, your gaze fixed on the ground. His presence was overwhelming, and the weight of everything he had done, and might still do, pressed heavily on you. Yet you knew there was no escaping this conversation.

Geta crouched before you, his piercing gaze softening as he studied your face. “You’ve always been kind, even when you had no reason to be. Even when I didn’t deserve it. That’s why I love you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Not because you are the princess of Rome, not because of your beauty or grace, but because you have a heart unlike anyone I’ve ever known.”

You flinched slightly at his words, unsure how to respond. “Emperor Geta,” you began hesitantly, “I’m your prisoner and my heart belongs-“

“To General Acacius,” he interrupted, bitterness creeping into his tone. “Yes, I know. But does he truly deserve it? Does he love you as I do? Does he see you for who you are?” He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and cupped your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I would give you everything,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “The empire, my loyalty, my life… I would burn the empire for you.”

You felt a lump in your throat as his words echoed in the morning. His words were both a confession and a threat, a reminder of the power he wielded and the danger that came with it. Before you could move away, he leaned closer, his forehead briefly resting against yours as if seeking solace.

Then, without warning, his arms wrapped around you in an embrace. It wasn’t harsh or demanding, it was almost tender coming from him. But the closeness made your heart race with fear. His lips hovered near your ear as he spoke again, his voice low and possessive. “You were made for me. There is not marriage, no power that can change that.”

Before you could respond, you felt the sharp sting of his teeth against your shoulder. It was a claim. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and wild, and you could see the faint trace of blood on his lips.

“That mark,” he said, his voice steadier now, “will remind you that you are mine, no matter what. Even if you deny it, even if you run to Acacius, you will carry me with you.”

You stared at him, horrified and furious, your hand instinctively going to your shoulder. The pain was sharp, and you knew the wound would scar, a permanent reminder of his obsession.

“You’re mad,” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear “This isn’t love, Geta. This is control. And I will never belong to you.”

His expression flickered, as though your words had struck a nerve. But the defiance in your voice didn’t deter him. Instead, he straightened, his composure returning. “You may hate me now, but time will change that. You’ll see,” he said softly, almost as if convincing himself. “One day, you’ll understand.”

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone under the light of the sun, that now seemed to disappear.  Your hand remained pressed against your shoulder, the wound throbbing painfully against your fingertips.

Your gown clung to your shoulder, damp with the blood running from the bite Geta had inflicted. The metallic smell lingered in the air, and the dull throb of the wound made your steps falter as you returned to the villa. You wrapped a shawl tightly around yourself, hoping to conceal the evidence of what had transpired.

The flickering lamplight in the villa's corridors cast long shadows as you entered quietly, your heart pounding in your chest. You prayed no one would notice your state. But as you made your way toward your chambers, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Daughter?” Lucilla’s voice was soft but carried a tone of concern. She had emerged from her own chambers, her sharp eyes immediately taking in your pale face, the stiffness of your movements, and the crimson stain slowly seeping through your shawl.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re distressed. What happened?”

You shook your head, attempting to brush past her. “It’s nothing. I’m tired. I need to rest.”

But Lucilla was relentless. She reached out and gently pulled at the shawl covering your shoulder. “Let me see,” she insisted, her voice tinged with a maternal sternness that left no room for argument.

You hesitated, swallowing hard, but the look in her eyes left you no choice. Slowly, you loosened the shawl, revealing the blood-soaked fabric of your gown and the angry bite mark on your shoulder.

Lucilla gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “What in the gods’ name happened to you?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the words. “It was Geta,” you whispered hoarsely. Regretting the words you had throwing at her earlier, “He... he bit me. He said I was his. That I would never truly belong to anyone else.”

Lucilla’s face hardened, horror contorting her features. “That monster,” she hissed, her voice trembling with anger. “He’s lost his mind. He has no right to lay a hand on you- no right at all!”

She took your hand, guiding you firmly toward your chambers. “We need to clean this wound before it festers,” she said, her voice now brisk and focused.

You followed her silently, the weight of the revelation pressing heavily on your shoulders. The pain from the bite throbbed with each step, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. Lucilla’s grip on your hand was firm, a silent promise of protection despite everything that had transpired between you.

Once inside your chambers, she set about gathering water and cloths, her movements efficient and practiced. She didn’t speak, but the tension in the air was palpable, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. You sat down, your hands trembling as you tried to steady yourself.

Lucilla knelt beside you, gently peeling back the fabric of your gown to get a better look at the wound. Her expression darkened at the sight of the raw, inflamed skin. "This will sting," she murmured, dipping a cloth into the water and pressing it against the bite.

You winced, biting back a cry as the cool water met the tender flesh. "He said I could never escape him," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "That no matter what, I would always be his."

Lucilla’s hand paused for a moment before resuming her careful cleaning. "You are not his," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt. "You are your own person. No one has the right to claim you, especially not in such a barbaric way."

You observed her, focused on mending your wound with such caring.

“Was it worth it?” you asked.

Lucilla’s hands stilled, her eyes momentarily closing as if the weight of your question struck her deeply. When she opened them again, her gaze was heavy with emotion.

She set the cloth aside and sat back on her heels, her hands resting in her lap. "I don’t know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I was doing what was best, what would keep you safe. I believed that Acacius could protect you in ways I could not. He brings the glory they lack of and-"

Her eyes met yours, the pain in them reflecting your own. "But I never anticipated this. I never thought Geta would..." She trailed off, her voice faltering as she fought to find the words. "I wanted to shield you from the dangers of this world, from the cruel games of men like him. I thought I was giving you a chance at something better, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing heavily on your heart. "But it didn’t stop him," you whispered, the bitterness and sorrow mixing in your voice. "Even with Acacius by my side, he still came after me."

Lucilla’s expression crumpled, her composure breaking as tears filled her eyes. "I failed you," she admitted, her voice cracking with the weight of her guilt. “I should have sent you and Lucius away.”

Her words hung in the air, a heavy confession that seemed to echo through the silence of the room. You felt a pang of sadness at the mention of your brother, the thought of him bringing back memories of simpler, happier times.

"You wanted to protect us," you said softly, your voice trembling as you tried to console her. "You did what you thought was best."

Lucilla shook her head, her tears falling freely now. "I thought keeping you close would be safer, that I could shield you from the worst of it. But I underestimated him, underestimated the depths of his cruelty." She paused, taking a shaky breath. "Sending you away might have spared you from this... this nightmare."

You reached out, placing a hand over hers. "We can’t change the past," you said, your voice steadier now.

As you held her hand, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over you, making the room spin. You blinked, trying to steady yourself, but the sensation only intensified. Your grip on Lucilla’s hand tightened involuntarily.

Lucilla’s eyes widened in concern as she noticed your pallor. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with worry. "You’re pale."

You nodded weakly, though the dizziness persisted. "It’s nothing," you murmured, attempting to downplay it. "It’s been happening lately... just moments of dizziness. They pass."

Her brows furrowed with worry, and she guided you to sit down, her hands firm on your shoulders. "You’ve been pushing yourself too hard," she said, her tone gentle but insistent. "Rest now. I’ll send for the healer."

You wanted to protest, to assure her that you were fine, but the fatigue and the weight of everything that had happened made it hard to argue. With a reluctant nod, you allowed her to help you lie down, her concern evident in every movement.

"Promise me you’ll tell me if it gets worse," she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "We can’t afford to ignore this."

"I will," you whispered, the heaviness of your eyelids pulling you into a restless sleep, Lucilla’s soothing presence the last thing you felt as you drifted off.

The moon casted a pale glow across the courtyard as Acacius rode back into the Villa. His horse’s hooves echoed softly against the stone pathway, a familiar sound that had once brought comfort. Now, with the weight of the world pressing down on him, it only seemed to remind him of the uncertainty and chaos that had taken hold of everyone he cared about.

As he dismounted, he glanced toward the fountain where Lucilla was tending to the delicate flowers growing around its edge. The peacefulness of the moment, in stark contrast to the storm brewing inside him, caught him off guard. His breath caught in his throat when Lucilla looked up, a soft smile appearing on her lips despite the weariness in her eyes.

"Acacius," she said warmly, her voice filled with relief as she walked toward him. Before he could say anything, she closed the distance between them and enveloped him in a tight hug. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, the familiar embrace both comforting and bittersweet.

"I’ve missed you," Lucilla murmured against his chest. "We’ve all been worried."

Acacius hesitated for a moment, then slowly returned the hug, the feeling of her presence grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. The tension in his shoulders seemed to lessen, but only slightly. He pulled back, searching her face for answers, as if he could find some peace in her expression.

"Where is she?" he asked, his voice low and urgent. His eyes flicked to the passages of the place, his heart racing at the thought of seeing you again.

Lucilla sighed softly, her expression softening with concern. "She’s asleep," she said gently. "She’s been resting a lot today."

“I need to see her.” Acacius said.

Lucilla placed a hand on his arm, stopping him from moving toward the door. "She’s asleep, Acacius. She needs rest more than anything right now," she said, her tone firm but caring. "Let her sleep, please. You’ve been gone too long. You need to eat something first. You’re no good to her if you’re running on empty."

Acacius clenched his jaw, his gaze flickering toward your chambers once again. "It doesn’t matter," he said, determination in his voice. "I’ll see her now."

Lucilla’s hand tightened on his arm; her voice soft but insistent. "Please, Acacius. For her sake, you need to rest too. She’ll be fine. I’ll wake her once she’s had some rest."

He looked at her, torn between the urge to be with you and the concern for your well-being that Lucilla had so clearly expressed. The room was heavy with unspoken words, the tension between what he wanted and what was best for you both almost too much to bear.

“No. I have to see her first.” He said, walking towards where you were.

The door creaked softly as Acacius entered your chamber, his heart pounding in his chest as the longing and concern filled his. The room was dimly lit by the fading light of the moon, casting soft shadows across the bed where you lay, still deep in sleep.

He moved quietly toward you, his steps light, careful not to wake you. His gaze softened as he looked at you, taking in the way your body relaxed under the weight of exhaustion, your face serene in a peaceful slumber. The sight of you brought a bittersweet smile to his lips, and without thinking, he sat down beside you on the bed.

His hand hovered for a moment before gently caressing your face, the touch tender and filled with affection. His fingers traced the delicate curve of your cheek, as if he could somehow erase the pain and hardship, you’d endured His thumb brushed over your skin, a silent apology for everything that had happened, for everything he hadn't been able to prevent.

He observed you. He watched over you memorizing every inch of a face he had missed you for weeks.

He lived for you, breathe for you.

At the touch, you stirred, your eyelids fluttering open slowly, the fog of sleep still clouding your mind. For a moment, your gaze was unfocused, as though you weren’t fully aware of where you were or who was beside you. Your eyes met his, but there was a distant look in them, as if your mind was still caught somewhere between the dream world and reality.

Acacius held his breath, his heart aching as he watched you struggle to fully wake. "It’s me," he whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath. "I’m here."

But before he could say more, your eyes fluttered closed again, and you drifted back into a deeper sleep, your breathing slow and steady.

A soft chuckle escaped him. He leaned closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face as he whispered to you, his words meant only for your ears.

"Rest, my love," he murmured, his voice full of emotion. "I’m back.”

+++++++++++++++++++

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The air felt fresh, the quiet stillness of dawn wrapping itself around you like a gentle embrace. You slowly stirred, the remnants of a dream still lingering at the edges of your mind. For a moment, everything felt hazy, like the lines between the real and the imagined were blurred.

As your eyes fluttered open, you felt the comforting weight of warmth beside you, and a soft breath against your skin. For a heartbeat, you thought it was just another dream. Your mind was still foggy, the night’s turmoil and the strange sense of peace from the past few hours making it difficult to separate reality from the dreamworld.

But then, as your gaze shifted, you saw him.

Acacius was there, lying beside you, his presence so real, so tangible that it almost hurt. His features were softer in the morning light, his expression calm and peaceful as he slept. His hair fell in gentle waves around his face, and the steady rise and fall of his chest was a reminder that he was truly here.

You blinked, unsure whether this moment was part of your dream or if you had truly woken up to find him next to you. The feeling in your chest, the warmth, the weight of his presence, it was so vivid that it seemed too perfect to be real.

You slowly shifted, sitting up slightly, careful not to disturb him. Your hand reached out tentatively, brushing a strand of hair from his face. The touch was soft, hesitant, as if you were afraid, he might vanish like a dream upon waking.

But he didn’t. His warmth was solid, his breath steady, and as your fingers lingered near his skin, you realized with a rush of relief that he was truly there. You felt the tightness in your chest ease, the anxiety that had plagued you for so long slowly dissipating in the comfort of his presence.

Acacius shifted slightly, his eyes opening slowly, and when they met yours, they were filled with warmth, tenderness, and something more, something deeper.

"You’re awake," he whispered, his voice still thick with sleep but filled with a soft affection that made your heart flutter.

You nodded, still taking in the reality of the moment, still unsure whether you were dreaming or not. "I... I thought you were just part of a dream," you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath.

“I came to see you last night, but you didn’t truly see me” he smiled softly at you.

Your smile widened; he mirrored your smile. It made your heart swell. You were overwhelmed by the certainty that he was real, that he was here, and that this was not just another fleeting dream.

Without thinking, you leaned closer, your hands trembling slightly as you cupped his face, pulling him toward you. The space between you shrank with every heartbeat, and before either of you could say another word, your lips met his.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle testing of the waters, but the emotions swirling inside you, the love, the longing, the relief, soon poured into it. It deepened, quickening, both of you unable to hold back the fervor that had been building for so long. Your hands slid into his hair, tugging him closer as if you couldn’t bear the distance between you.

Acacius responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you to him with the same urgency. His kiss was filled with the same passion, his hands tracing the lines of your back, pulling you into the warmth of his embrace as if you were the one thing that anchored him in this world.

You broke the kiss slowly, your forehead resting against his neck as you both breathed heavily, your heart racing. You lifted your head, looking at him into his eyes, searching for the same love dancing on them.

"I’ve missed you," you whispered, your voice shaky with the intensity of your feeling. “I’m glad you are back.”

Acacius's eyes softened as he gazed at you, the smile still lingering on his lips, but there was a quiet intensity now as he studied you more closely. "Last night, you didn't even see me," he chuckled, his voice low and full of affection. "Why are you so tired?" His gaze lingered on your face, searching for an explanation, a hint of concern creeping into his words.

But before you could answer, his eyes drifted to your shoulder, and the lighthearted smile faded instantly. His hand reached out gently, brushing aside the fabric of your gown to reveal the angry bite mark on your skin. His breath caught, his face contorting with anger as he traced the wound with his fingertips, his touch almost sacred.

"What... what is this?" His voice was a whisper, edged with disbelief and a growing fury. "Who did this to you?"

You winced slightly at the touch, but it wasn’t from pain, but from the overwhelming flood of emotions that rushed through you at his reaction. You were ashamed.

 "It’s... from Geta," you said softly, your voice trembling as the memory of that night flooded back. "He... he bit me.”

Acacius’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he clenched his fists. He pulled his hand away from your shoulder, his gaze never leaving the wound as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. "Geta..." he growled, his voice low and filled with contempt. "That animal."

You swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat as the weight of the situation settled on you. "It’s nothing," you tried to reassure him, but the words felt hollow. "It’s just a bite. I’ll be fine."

But Acacius wouldn’t be soothed so easily. He leaned closer, his hands gently cupping your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "It’s not just a bite," he said firmly, his voice steady but full of determination. "You’re not just a victim of his games, and I won’t let you be."

His thumb traced the line of your cheek, his expression softening with an intensity that took your breath away. "I will make sure this never happens again," he promised, his voice low and filled with an unspoken vow.

Acacius's words hung in the air, carrying a promise as his hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. Without a word, he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead, a tender kiss that seemed to erase some of the heaviness in your heart. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if grounding you in the warmth of his protection, before he moved to kiss your temple, his touch both gentle and filled with an overwhelming tenderness.

Each kiss was a quiet declaration of his love, his need to soothe the pain and the fear that had taken root in your heart. His lips trailed down your cheek, the soft pressure of each kiss igniting a calmness in you, a sense of safety that had been lacking during his absence. As he kissed your nose, your eyelids, your cheeks, his touch was soft and reverent, like he was willing to erase every trace of hurt you had face.

"You don’t have to carry this alone," he whispered against your skin, his breath warm as it fanned across your face. "I’ll be here. Always."

Your heart beat wildly in your chest, the overwhelming emotions of relief and love flooding through you as you closed your eyes, letting him soothe your pain. You weren’t his to fix but you were his to love.

The way he kissed you with such care, it was as if he was healing not just the physical wound, but the deeper, hidden scars.

As he kissed your lips, a soft, lingering touch, you finally opened your eyes to meet his once more. His gaze was full of such raw emotion, as though he, too, was feeling the depth of the moment.

"I love you," he whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ll do anything to keep you safe, to keep you whole."

He knew the plan he had under his hands. He would free Rome from the tyranny and free you from the fear.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as the announcer introduced the key figures present at the Colosseum. The names of the emperors, Geta and Caracalla, echoed through the massive arena, met with cheers and restrained applause. Then came Lucilla's name, and the reaction was thunderous.

"Lucilla, the beloved daughter of Rome!"

The cheers were wild, a wave of adoration sweeping through the crowd. People stood, clapping and calling her name, their admiration evident in every gesture. You watched as Lucilla stood gracefully, acknowledging the crowd with a serene smile, her presence commanding the space in a way that only she could.

Your eyes flicked to Acacius, who was seated beside you. His gaze lingered on Lucilla, a soft, unreadable expression on his face. Admiration, respect... perhaps something more?

Your thoughts were threatening to betray you again, after the accident with emperor geta not even Acacius’ reassurance could take you away from that dark place of your mind.  

The thought clawed at you, your chest tightening painfully. You tried to look away, but the image was seared into your mind: the way his lips curved into the faintest of smiles, the way his eyes seemed to curse you.

Acacius was holding your hand, tightly but your skin felt empty. A cold wave of detachment washed over you. The cheers around you became distant, muffled, as though you were underwater. Your heart felt heavy, your thoughts spiraling into the possibility that you had been wrong all along.

Had he chosen you, or had he simply settled for you?

You were lost in the haze, barely registering the sound of the announcer continuing the introductions. It wasn't until you heard your name being called that the fog lifted.

"And now, the princess of Rome, our General Acacius' beloved wife!"

The crowd clapped politely, but it was nothing compared to the ovation Lucilla had received. You blinked rapidly, startled back into the present. Acacius had turned to you, his hand still touching yours.

"Are you all, right?" he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His brows knitted with concern as he studied your face.

You forced a smile, though it felt brittle. "I'm fine," you replied, the lie slipping easily from your lips.

Acacius' gaze lingered, his frown deepening slightly, but he said nothing more. He turned his attention back to the arena, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as though to reassure you.

But the seed of doubt had been planted, and no matter how tightly he held onto you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he might not truly be yours.

You weren’t naive, nor blind to the reality of the world you had grown up in. The web of alliances and betrayals, the quiet manipulations cloaked in love and duty, those were woven into the very fabric of your existence.

And now, here you were, seated beside Acacius in the Colosseum, as the echoes of Lucilla's name still hung in the air. You couldn’t stop the twisting knot in your stomach. The way Acacius had looked at her earlier, the subtle warmth in his eyes, wasn’t something you could ignore.

You weren’t stupid. You had always known there was a past between your mother and Acacius, a bond that ran deeper than either of them cared to admit aloud. They might have buried it under the guise of duty, but you saw the shadows of it, lingering in their words, in their looks.

This wasn’t just about the admiration Acacius showed Lucilla in the public eye or the respect the people of Rome gave her. It was about how every move seemed calculated, as though Lucilla had once again positioned herself as the center of the narrative. And you? You were a mere piece on the board, trapped by the choices made to “protect” you, thrown into a marriage that sometimes felt like a gilded cage.

Your mind raced. Were you just another pawn in a game of power, destined to be discarded when your use was up? A part of you feared that Lucilla had orchestrated this entire situation, not to protect you, but to ensure Acacius stayed close, tethered to her orbit under the guise of protecting her daughter.

How Geta looked at you as if he owned you.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"You’re unusually quiet today," Acacius said beside you, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity.

“I’m just… thinking,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, avoiding his intense gaze for a moment.

Acacius shifted closer, his presence radiating the strength you so desperately needed right now. “Thinking about what?” His tone was soft, but there was a sharpness in it, the concern for you evident beneath the calm surface.

You hesitated, biting your lip as the image of Geta’s cold eyes lingered in your mind and sitting just centimeters from you. "How he looks at me," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Like he owns me. Like I’m a possession."

Acacius’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw tightening as if he were struggling to keep his emotions in check. "He will never own you," he whispered for yourself to hear, his hand gently grasping yours. “You belong to no one but yourself.”

Before you could respond, the distant sounds of the gladiators preparing for the fight reached your ears, shouting commands. The world outside seemed to snap back into focus, the heavy air now filled with tension as Acacius’s duty called to him.

His hand lingered on yours, but there was a palpable shift in the air between you. The intensity of the moment, the weight of his words, and the fear of what might come next made everything feel suddenly fragile. For a heartbeat, you wished you could stay suspended in this moment, untouched by the chaos that was about to unfold.

Your attention also shifted to the arena, where the clash of steel and the roar of the crowd filled the air. A single gladiator stood out among the combatants, his movements precise, calculated, almost effortless. Something about him felt oddly familiar, tugging at the edges of your memory.

He moved with a grace you’d only seen in a few, his strikes landing with deadly accuracy, his stance reminiscent of a soldier rather than a slave. The sun caught the sharp lines of his face for a moment, and for a moment, your breath hitched.

It couldn’t be.

The gladiator turned slightly, and you swore you could see the faint scar across his cheek, the same scar you remembered tracing with your finger once, years ago. Just as he used to do it with yours, the one you had just above your eyebrow.

It can’t be Lucius.

Your heart raced as you sat frozen, unable to look away. What was he doing here? Why was he in the arena, fighting for his life as if he were no more than a pawn for entertainment?

"Are you all, right?" Acacius asked, leaning closer to you, his tone concerned.

You barely heard him, your focus entirely on the gladiator. The crowd erupted in cheers as he disarmed his opponent, standing victorious in the center of the arena. His chest rose and fell heavily, but his gaze lifted, scanning the crowd as if searching for someone.

When his eyes met yours, the recognition wasn’t there, but you feel in your heart.

He didn’t smile, didn’t falter, but you could see the fire in his eyes, the defiance, the unspoken words that passed between you in that fleeting moment. He was here for a reason and it wasn’t just surviving.

The ride back to the villa was suffocating. The echoes of the crowd’s cheers and the clash of steel still lingered in your ears, but your thoughts were consumed by Lucius. You had barely spoken a word since leaving the Colosseum, and Acacius, sensing your unease, remained silent beside you.

Your mother, seated across from you, attempted to meet your gaze, but you kept your eyes focused on the window. The weight of the day pressed down on you, and exhaustion threatened to pull you under.

When you finally arrived at the villa, you stepped out of the carriage without a word. The evening air was cool, but it did little to soothe the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t wait for anyone, heading straight to your chambers, your footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

Acacius called your name softly as you walked away, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t face him. Not now.

Once inside your room, you shut the door and leaned against it, the tension in your body finally breaking as you slid to the floor. You felt tears prick your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet.

Instead, you crawled to the bed, too drained to even remove your sandals. You climbed under the covers, pulling them tightly around you as if they could shield you from the storm inside your head.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and though the weight of the day lingered in your chest, sleep began to claim you. The last thing you heard was the faint creak of the door opening and quiet footsteps entering the room.

Acacius.

He didn’t say anything, and you didn’t have the strength to look at him. You felt the bed dip slightly as he sat beside you. A warm hand rested lightly on your shoulder, and his thumb brushed against the fabric of your sleeve.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice low, filled with a quiet worry.

+++++++++

The night was quiet as you walked through the villa, your footsteps muffled on the stone floors. The house felt empty despite the people inside, the silence pressing in on you. When you stepped into the garden, the cool breeze brushed against your skin, but it did little to calm the restless thoughts swirling in your mind.

It was there, among the shadows of the tall, ancient trees, that you saw them. Acacius and your mother, Lucilla, standing close together, speaking in hushed tones. Their words were soft, but you could feel the weight of the conversation, the tension between them thick enough to be felt even from where you stood. Acacius’s hand hovered just above Lucilla’s arm, his posture protective, and though their expressions were unreadable, there was something in the way they stood together that felt... familiar. Too familiar.

A sharp pang of jealousy gnawed at your chest, but you didn’t dare move closer. Instead, you turned silently on your heel and walked back to your chambers.

You couldn’t bear to stay in that room any longer, not with the questions swirling in your mind, not when you felt so abandoned in the very space that should’ve been your refuge. Without a second thought, you grabbed a cloak and threw it over your shoulders, the fabric billowing softly as you exited the villa once more.

The air outside the villa was cool and quiet as you slipped through the shadows, your heart pounding with each step. The guards were focused elsewhere, their attention scattered by the faint buzz of the city. The path to the gladiator quarters was one you had never taken before, but your determination pushed you forward.

When you reached the holding area, the scent of sweat and iron filled the air. Lanterns flickered dimly, casting long shadows on the walls. The clinking of chains and low murmurs from the gladiators made your stomach churn, but you pressed on.

Hanno, you were told his name was.

But in your heart, he was Lucius.

You spotted him immediately. His broad back was turned to you, his head bowed as he held something in his hands. The sight of him like this inside this cell, broke your heart.

Taking all your courage, you stepped forward. “Hanno.”

He didn’t look up. “What now? You people love seeing prisoners like this, don’t you?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

You flinched but held your ground. “I’m not here to gawk. I’m here to talk.”

He finally turned; his sharp features illuminated by the lantern’s glow. His eyes locked onto yours, cold and untrusting at first.

He stood in front of a prisoner dressed in gold, not knowing the story interlocked between you both.

You said nothing, frozen under his piercing stare.

Hanno stood slowly, his presence sent shivers down your spine, you didn’t fear him but the possibility of him being your beloved brother.

Hanno’s eyes narrowed as he looked you up and down, his stance growing more rigid. The silence between you felt thick, charged with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low and clipped, filled with suspicion. “Are you the general’s wife?” His words were sharper than the chill in the night air, and they stung like a slap.

You held your ground, refusing to be intimidated, though your pulse quickened at the mention of Acacius. The tension between you and Hanno was palpable, and yet you could sense something else, something more.

“I’m not here for him” you said, your voice steady but quieter than you intended. “I’m here to see the gladiators. To make sure they’re well.”

Hanno scoffed, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “You think they deserve your pity? These men? You’re nothing more than a part of this twisted game, just like the rest of them.” His words hit like a blow, but you didn’t flinch, though they stung nonetheless.

He stepped closer, his eyes flicking to the guards who watched from the shadows, before turning back to you with disdain.

“You wear their pain like a cloak, but you’re not one of them,” he spat. “You’re just another piece of property, owned by the man you married. Don’t pretend you’re anything else. You can’t fool me. You-”

He stopped abruptly, his eyes catching on something above your eyebrow. His gaze sharpened, his face shifting from scorn to recognition. His expression faltered slightly, and he took a step closer, his attention now focused entirely on the scar.

“That scar…” he whispered, his voice faltering. “No. It can’t be...”

You said nothing, frozen under his voice.

The world seemed to slow as your heart raced. You had never told anyone about it, not in years. It was a relic of another time, another life before this one, before the crown, before Acacius.

Hanno’s eyes widened, his hand rising instinctively toward your face, as if drawn by some invisible thread.

“Your name is Lucius Velarius,” Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke “You’re the brother to a siste who is stand in front of you right now, hoping that’s is you.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if trying to convince himself you were real. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his rough hands trembling as they held you., You could hardly breathe, the weight of the revelation pressing down on you. The realization came slowly, but it hit you hard, like a hammer to the chest.

Your brother.

His eyes softened as the truth sank in, and for the first time in years, you saw the hint of a smile tug at his lips, though it was tinged with sadness. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing the scar on your face, as if confirming you were truly there, truly the same person he had once known. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

“I thought you were dead” you replied, your throat tight with emotion.

You clung to him, your tears soaking into his tunic. “I thought I would never see you again.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders as he studied your face. “Why are you here? This is no place for someone like you.”

“I had to see you,” you replied, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t stand not knowing if it was really you.”

Lucius’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “You shouldn’t have come. If they find you here-”

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “You’re my brother, and I won’t abandon you.”

His eyes softened again, and for a brief moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders. “Then we have much to talk about, sister.”

+++++++++++++

Lucius sat down heavily on a wooden bench, wincing as he shifted his weight. The dim light of the small cell barely illuminated the fresh gashes and bruises marring his skin. Your hands trembled as you dipped a cloth into a bowl of water, wringing it out before gently pressing it against a cut on his shoulder.

He hissed in pain, but you didn’t stop. “Hold still,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm. “These need to be cleaned, or they’ll get infected.”

Lucius watched you closely, his gaze flickering between your face and the careful movements of your hands. “You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

“And you shouldn’t be fighting for their entertainment,” you shot back, your eyes narrowing. “But here we are.”

He let out a dry chuckle, though it quickly turned into a wince. “You’ve grown sharper since we last saw each other.”

“You left me no choice,” you replied, dabbing at a particularly deep cut. “I had to learn how to survive without you.”

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the sound of water dripping back into the bowl. Lucius finally spoke, his voice quieter this time. “You know it wasn’t my choice.”

You paused, your hands stilling as his words sank in. “You never tried to come back.”

“I would be dead.” he admitted, his jaw tightening.

You shook your head, resuming your work. “But you are not.”

His hand reached up, catching yours and stilling your movements. “But what about you?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “What have they done to you?”

You hesitated, the question cutting deeper than any blade. “It doesn’t matter,” you said finally, avoiding his gaze. “What matters is getting you out of here.”

Lucius’s grip on your hand tightened. “And how do you plan to do that? These people… they don’t let anyone go, not without a price.”

“Then I’ll pay it,” you said, meeting his eyes with determination. “Whatever it takes, I’ll free you, Lucius.”

He stared at you for a long moment, “You’ve always been stubborn,” he said with a small, bittersweet smile.

“And you’ve always underestimated me,” you replied, dabbing at his wounds one last time.

Lucius's gaze softened as he watched you work, the rough edges of his hardened exterior beginning to crack just slightly. There was something in the way you spoke, the quiet determination in your voice that made him believe, if only for a fleeting moment, that maybe, just maybe, you could change the outcome of his life.

+++++++++

The trip back to the villa was a blur, your mind heavy with the thoughts of Lucius, and the promise you had made to him. As you arrived at the villa, the sight of the grand stone walls did little to ease the tension in your chest. You couldn’t stay in that cell forever, and you knew there would be consequences for what you’d just done.

Inside, the quiet stillness of the villa seemed to press in on you. You didn’t want to face Acacius, not after everything. Not after what had just happened with Lucius, with the way he had looked at you and spoken to you, reminding you of the bond you shared, the family that had once been torn apart.

But you didn’t have a choice.

Acacius was waiting for you in the courtyard, his broad figure standing against the fading light of day, the tension in his posture unmistakable. His eyes, dark and intense, followed you as you walked toward him. You could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical presence.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice edged with something sharp, something that wasn’t just concern. It was frustration. Maybe anger. You didn’t know anymore.

“I’m not here to discuss time, Acacius,” you replied, your voice cooler than you intended, but the fight in your chest was growing.

He stepped forward, his expression tightening. “Where were you?”

“Out, taking a walk,” you said bluntly, not willing to sugarcoat it.

Acacius’s eyes flashed with anger, and before you could even process it, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm with an intensity that caught you off guard. “Where?” he asked, his voice low but simmering with rage. “What were you thinking?”

You yanked your arm back, glaring at him. “What does it matter to you?” The words escaped before you could stop them, frustration bubbling over. “You were busy with my mother, right?”

Acacius’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening at your words. His hand dropped from your arm, but the tension between you both was thick. "That's not the point," he said, his voice colder now. "The point is, you didn't come to me. You didn't think to tell me where you were going, what you were doing. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to go off on your own, especially with everything going on? After what Geta did to you?"

His anger was palpable, but so was the hurt. You could see it in the way his fists clenched at his sides, the way he stared at you as if you were slipping away from him, slipping away from the bond you shared. It was clear to him that there was something more, something deeper happening, and he didn’t know how to reach you in this moment.

He stepped closer, his breath coming quicker now, trying to seem calm, maybe even desperate, hidden behind the harshness of his words. "I care because I love you," he said, his voice low, almost broken. "Even when I’m angry.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, the raw honesty of his words piercing through the fog of anger that had clouded your mind. You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come.

"I don't need your love, Acacius," you said finally, the words slipping out more bitter than you intended, making up a lie you didn’t believe “Your love made me weak, Acacius.”

Acacius froze, his face going pale as your words cut through him like a dagger. The air between you both seemed to freeze, his body stiffening as if the words had physically wounded him. For a long moment, neither of your spoke, the only sound in the room was the heavy, labored breathing from both of you.

His voice trembled when he spoke again. "You think I made you weak?" He took a slow step toward you, his eyes searching yours with disbelief and pain. "You think my love for you made you weak?"

You tried to steady your breath, but it caught in your throat. Your heart twisted painfully as you met his gaze, seeing the hurt in his eyes, the raw emotion that mirrored your own. But you held firm, even as your chest tightened with regret.

"Yes," you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to remain cold. "I had to rely on it. On you. And now..." You couldn’t finish your sentence, the words getting stuck. The truth you refused to admit was suffocating you.

Acacius didn’t move. His face was unreadable, but his eyes, those soft brown eyes that had once looked at you with so much tenderness were broken.

The moment you saw the tears fall from his eyes, something inside you shattered. The wall you had so carefully built around your heart crumbled, and you felt the weight of everything you’d been holding in, your fears, your anger, your pain, all come rushing to the surface. You had hurt him, and the sight of his vulnerability, of the pain in his eyes, made you feel like you were drowning.

"I didn’t mean it," you whispered, your voice breaking as the truth tumbled out of you. "It’s a lie... I’m sorry, Acacius. I didn’t mean it."

Before you even realized what you were doing, you stepped toward him, closing the distance between you, and kissed him. Your lips crashed against his with an urgency you couldn’t contain, as if trying to take back all the hurt, all the mistakes, in one breath. The kiss was desperate, frantic, and full of apologies you didn’t know how to say.

He couldn’t hold back, he kissed you back, his arms pulling you closer, his hands sliding into your hair. His kiss was full of relief, as if he had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You broke the kiss reluctantly, your forehead resting against his as you tried to catch your breath. "I’m sorry," you repeated, your voice barely a whisper. "I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t know how to... how to deal with my jealousy.”

Acacius cupped your face, his eyes searching yours as if looking for the truth in them. "I love you. Only you." he said softly. "

“Show me.” You pleaded, “Show me how much you love me, Acacius.”

His hands were gentle, but there was an urgency in his touch that matched the racing of your heart. Acacius pulled you closer, his lips finding yours again, this time with a fiercer intensity, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The way he held you made everything else in the world fade away.

You circled your legs around his waist instinctively, feeling the warmth of his body press against yours. His arms were around you, steady and strong, and for a moment, it felt as though the weight of the world had lifted. There was no war, no political schemes, no uncertainty, only the two of you, caught in a moment of raw, vulnerable truth.

Acacius broke the kiss just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours. "You have me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "In every way. I always have."

You could feel his heart pounding, matching the beat of your own. He held you tighter, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands roaming to places that made your breath hitch in your chest. "Show me," you whispered again, more desperately now, wanting to feel every piece of him, to bridge the gap between the broken parts of you both.

++++++++++++

The next morning, a summons arrived from Emperor Geta, delivered by one of his trusted attendants. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, though a sense of foreboding settled deep in your chest. As you entered the emperor’s hall, you were greeted with the sight of an opulent feast laid out on a long table, the scents of roasted meats and sweetened wine filling the air.

Geta stood at the head of the table, his expression warm but calculating. “Ah, the princess of Rome,” he said with a smile, gesturing for you to join him. “Come, sit. Let us enjoy the morning together.”

You hesitated before stepping forward, your gaze flicking to the feast. “Do you do this for all your prisoners?” you asked, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Geta laughed, a rich sound that echoed through the hall. “For you? Always.”

You took your seat cautiously, your back straight and your hands folded in your lap. Despite the lavish setting, there was no mistaking the undercurrent of tension in the room.

“I’ve heard some interesting tales,” Geta began, leaning back in his chair and studying you. “Stories about my dear princess sneaking into the gladiators’ quarters. Healing slaves, no less.” His eyes glittered with amusement and something darker.

Your stomach tightened, but you met his gaze steadily. “I didn’t realize compassion was a crime,” you said evenly.

Geta chuckled, pouring himself a goblet of wine. “Compassion? Is that what you call it?” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Tell me, what’s going on? Why risk yourself for men who are nothing more than property? What would General Acacius say if he knew his wife was spending her nights in such unsavory company?”

Your heart raced, but you kept your expression calm. “Acacius has no reason to doubt me,” you said carefully.

Geta swirled the wine in his goblet. “How noble. But I wonder... is there more to this than you’re letting on?”

You forced a small smile, even as your hands tightened in your lap. “What could there possibly be, Emperor? I am simply doing what I can to ease the suffering of others.”

He watched you closely, as though searching for a crack in your armor. Finally, he leaned back with a sigh, his playful demeanor returning. “You are fascinating,” he said. “A woman of such fire and mystery. It is no wonder I love you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you maintained your composure. “I am married to General Acacius,” you reminded him firmly.

“And yet here you are, sitting with me,” he said with a smirk.

You said nothing, unwilling to give him more power over you.

The feast continued in strained silence, and though Geta’s attention remained fixed on you, you managed to deflect his probing questions. By the time the meal ended, you felt as though you had just survived a battle of your own.

As you left the hall, your mind raced with thoughts of Lucius. You couldn’t let Geta or anyone else discover the truth about his identity.

As the feast continued, Emperor Geta leaned forward, his piercing gaze fixed on you as you took a sip of the wine he had poured. The drink was sweeter than you expected, with an almost metallic tang that lingered on your tongue.

You set the goblet down, a faint unease creeping over you. Your head felt oddly heavy, as though the air around you had thickened. Still, you forced yourself to maintain your composure, unwilling to show any weakness in front of him.

“You seem quiet,” Geta remarked, his voice smooth and casual, but his eyes glimmered with something far more dangerous. “Is the wine not to your liking?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. “It’s... fine,” you managed, though your voice sounded distant, even to yourself.

He smiled, leaning back in his chair as though satisfied. “Good. It’s a rare ancient. Fit for a princess such as yourself.”

A strange warmth spread through your limbs, dulling your senses. Your vision blurred slightly, the edges of the room softening. Alarm bells rang in your mind, but you pushed them aside, trying to focus on Geta’s voice as he continued to speak.

“I can see why Acacius is so fond of you,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You have a way of captivating men, don’t you? Even ones who should know better.”

You clenched your hands beneath the table, willing yourself to stay upright. “If you have something to say, Emperor, say it,” you replied, though your voice wavered.

Geta’s smile widened, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, I’ve said enough. The rest... well, time will tell.”

A wave of nausea hit you suddenly, and you reached for the table to steady yourself. Geta’s expression didn’t change, but you caught the faintest flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

“Perhaps the wine was too strong for you,” he said, feigning concern. “You should rest. Shall I have someone escort you back to the villa?”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to stand despite the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm you. “No... I can manage.”

He rose as well, stepping closer to you. His hand brushed your arm, the touch cold despite the heat radiating from your skin. “Take care, my dear,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

You pulled away, your heart pounding as you stumbled toward the door. The room spun around you, and each step felt like a battle. By the time you reached the villa, your body was trembling, and your breath came in shallow gasps.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,”

Acacius whispered, his arms pulling you closer, cradling you against him.

“I’ve got you.”

+++++++++++

Tags 💌: (if you want to be removed feel free to tell me. I'm super shy when it comes to tags. By the way I couldn't tag everyone)

@greenwitchfromthewoods @joeldjarin @picketniffler @sptbear @bambisweethearts @immyowndefender @nobodyssfool @behomewhenthestreetlightscomeon @idkwhylou @jasminedragoon @ro-nahime-things @hduuc56 @mamustreads @itsafullmoon @tuquoquebrute @ccmoonshine

[geneviveleocardius]

dad’s got it covered

feat. simon riley

the soft clatter of pots and pans fills the kitchen as you stir the bubbling pot of pasta sauce. the warm aroma of garlic and herbs drifts through the house, mingling with the faint sound of the tv playing in the living room. amidst it all, your toddler’s tiny voice breaks through, high-pitched and filled with excitement.

“mummy, i want the braid! the one rapunzel has!” she calls from the couch, holding a toy brush in her small hands.

you glance over your shoulder, a small smile tugging at your lips. “later, sweetheart,” you say, your voice gentle but distracted. “mummy’s making dinner right now.”

there’s a pause, and then the sound of her humming to herself, followed by the occasional soft giggle. it’s enough to make you peek out of the kitchen, curiosity getting the better of you. what you see stops you in your tracks.

simon, your husband—your hulking, stoic husband—sits on the floor behind your daughter. his large hands, so used to wielding weapons and carrying the weight of the world, now work with a surprising delicacy. he’s carefully braiding her fine hair, his expression one of focused determination. your daughter is practically glowing, a radiant grin on her face as she chatters away, oblivious to how tender the moment is.

your heart softens, warmth blooming in your chest as you lean against the doorway, watching them. simon glances up briefly, catching your eye. there’s a flicker of something in his gaze—a mixture of pride and amusement.

“you’re lucky she doesn’t want the full rapunzel treatment,” he murmurs, his deep voice laced with dry humor. “i’d need a ladder.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “you’re doing great, love,” you say, meaning every word.

years pass in the blink of an eye. your little girl is no longer so little, and the house feels quieter, the once-constant chaos of toddler life now replaced by the rhythm of a teenager’s world. tonight, your daughter has a party to attend. she’d asked you earlier to iron her hair, a request you’d readily agreed to.

but somewhere between the dishes and the laundry, exhaustion crept in. you’d sat down for just a moment and fallen asleep. when you wake with a start, panic surges through you. you glance at the clock, your heart sinking as you realize how much time has passed.

“oh no,” you mutter, scrambling to your feet. “her hair—”

you rush out of the room, searching for her, guilt already gnawing at you. when you find her, the sight that greets you makes you stop short.

she’s sitting in front of the vanity in her room, scrolling casually through her phone. behind her stands simon, a flat iron in one hand and a comb in the other. his movements are slow and precise as he smooths out her hair, section by section.

your daughter barely looks up from her phone, her trust in her father’s meticulousness evident. but you can see it—the care in simon’s touch, the way he handles her hair like it’s the most delicate thing in the world. his expression is the same as it was all those years ago, when he braided her hair for the first time: focused, patient, and filled with an unspoken love.

your heart melts at the sight, the guilt dissolving into something softer, sweeter. leaning against the doorway, you smile to yourself, the memory of a tiny girl and a father’s careful hands blending seamlessly with the present.

“you’re amazing, you know that?” you say softly, your voice breaking the quiet.

simon glances at you, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a faint smirk. “just don’t expect me to start charging for haircuts,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but warm.

your daughter, still focused on her phone, rolls her eyes with a groan. “dad, you’re so lame.”

you laugh quietly, your heart full to bursting. watching them, you realize some things never change—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

I GET YOU

rafe cameron x fem!reader

( moodboard does NOT depict readers appearance !! )

WARNINGS: none? i can’t really think of anything, just pure fluff! soft!rafe :’) maybe the slightest mention of worrying about what others think/fear of being judged? lmk if i missed anything !!

SUMMARY: rafe and weird!reader are one of the strangest couples in the obx. nobody has any clue how the cunning and cruel rafe cameron is dating the epitome of sunshine. but rafe just gets her, and she just gets him🫶

based on this ask !! i hope you enjoy 🍮🍒 anon, and i hope it was what you asked for, and i added in that the reader makes jewellery and collects sonny’s angels :) and sorry for the late post !! <3

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

THIRD PERSON +

The Outer Banks sun was blazing overhead as Y/N wandered down the streets of Kildare Island. The vibrant clinking of her many bracelets echoed softly in the quiet cul-de-sac as she adjusted her brightly colored tote bag over her shoulder. It was filled to the brim with craft supplies—beads of every color, rolls of thread, and the newest addition to her collection: two tiny Sonny’s Angels figurines she’d found at a small thrift shop on the mainland.

She was a walking burst of color. Her patchwork denim jeans were covered in hand-sewn floral patterns, her lime-green tank top layered over a long-sleeved baby tee, and her hair was adorned with barrette clips in the shape of stars and hearts. The contrast between her aesthetic and the neutral, coastal tones of the OBX locals was stark. She stuck out like a sore thumb—and she didn’t care.

And Rafe Cameron loved her for it.

From his perch on the porch steps of Tannyhill, Rafe’s blue eyes tracked her approach, his lips quirking into a soft, almost amused smile. He watched as she practically skipped up the gravel driveway, clutching her tote bag like it held treasure.

“Rafey!” she called out, her voice a melodic lilt that never failed to make his chest ache in the best way. “Guess what I found!”

He chuckled, standing up and brushing off his khaki shorts. “What, another one of those creepy little baby dolls?”

She gasped in mock outrage, clutching her heart. “They’re not creepy! They’re little angels, and they’re adorable. Look!” She yanked the two figurines from her bag and held them up like prized possessions. One was dressed as a strawberry, the other as a little chef.

Rafe leaned down, squinting at the tiny figures in her hands. “Yeah, adorable is one way to put it,” he teased, but his grin betrayed his words.

“Don’t be mean,” she said, poking his chest lightly. Her rings sparkled in the sunlight as she did so. “You just don’t understand their charm.”

“I don’t,” he admitted with a shrug, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. “But I understand you, and that’s enough for me.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, and she buried her face in his chest. “You’re such a sap sometimes.”

“Only for you.”

The two of them stood like that for a moment, swaying slightly in the breeze. The Cameron estate was quiet; Ward and Rose were off on one of their trips, and Sarah was, well, doing whatever Sarah did these days. It left Rafe and Y/N in a little bubble of their own, untouched by the world’s judgments.

“You wanna help me make something?” Y/N asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him.

“Make what?”

“A bracelet!” She stepped out of his arms, already rummaging through her bag. “I got these new beads, and I think they’d look great with your eyes.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “You wanna make me a bracelet?”

“Why not?” she said, grinning. “It’s not like you’re gonna wear it in public or anything. Unless…” Her grin turned mischievous.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, though his tone was light.

She giggled, plopping down on the porch steps and spreading her supplies out like an artist preparing her canvas. Rafe followed, sitting beside her and watching as her nimble fingers worked to thread beads onto a piece of elastic.

“Why do you do this?” he asked after a while, his voice soft.

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestured to her array of beads, figurines, and tiny tools. “All of it. The bright clothes, the crafts… you’re not exactly like anyone else around here.”

She paused, looking up at him with a small smile. “Because it makes me happy,” she said simply. “I like colours. I like making things. It’s who I am.”

Rafe nodded, taking her answer in stride. He’d always admired her confidence in being herself, even when people whispered about her behind her back or shot her strange looks in town. It was a level of self-assuredness he wasn’t sure he’d ever reach.

“You know,” she said after a moment, stringing a star-shaped bead onto the bracelet, “a lot of people think it’s weird that we’re together.”

“They’re idiots.”

She laughed, a light, airy sound that made his heart swell. “I know that. But still… you’re Rafe Cameron. People expect you to date, like, the cheerleader type. Not someone who spends their weekends thrifting for doll clothes.”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was gentle, his fingers brushing against the plastic barrette clipped in her hair. “Let them think what they want,” he said firmly. “You make me happy. That’s all that matters.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re too good to me, Rafe Cameron.”

“Damn right I am,” he said with a smirk, though the teasing edge in his voice was softened by the way he gazed at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

She finished the bracelet a few minutes later, tying it off and holding it up for inspection. It was a mix of blue and white beads, with a single star charm in the center. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” he said, letting her slide it onto his wrist. The contrast between the delicate bracelet and his rugged, calloused hands was almost laughable, but he wore it with pride.

“You look so cute,” she cooed, taking his hand in hers to admire her handiwork.

“Don’t push it,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting to the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. “You know, I used to think no one would ever get me,” she admitted quietly. “Like, really get me.”

Rafe turned his head to look at her, his expression softening. “I get you,” he said simply.

She smiled, tilting her head up to kiss him softly. “Yeah,” she whispered against his lips. “You do.”

The world around them seemed to fade away as they sat together on the porch steps, wrapped in their own little universe. It didn’t matter what the rest of the Outer Banks thought of them. They had each other, and that was more than enough.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron felt like he could be himself. And for Y/N, that was the greatest gift of all.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so so cute and so much fun to write !! i LOVE weird girl!reader soooo much and this was just the CUTEST🥹 i really hope this was what you wanted 🍮🍒 anon and i hope i got the aesthetics correct :) as always, please like and reblog as it means the WORLD to me <333

[jun-was-taken]

There's no gaming experience that's been able to match it. It's one of those rare experiences where it just so thoroughly hits your resonate frequency your brain starts vibrating.

The game's systems and story are so singular in their theme and thesis. Everything you do reinforces the idea that human connection can overcome even the most fucked up dire situations.

One of the mechanics in this game is you can setup bits of infrastructure that people can see and use in their own worlds. You'll see a conveniently placed ladder here, a perfect save-your-ass-I-don't-have-shit-on-me rope there. Someone was looking out for you. You sauce them as many likes as you can. While you're helping the characters in-universe, you're also the guardian angels for other porters that are literally following in your footsteps.

It starts off small. You pack an extra ladder when you know you don't really need it, just so you can go off the beaten track and bridge a gap. Just for the simple pleasure of maybe it'll help someone. Oh man, that cliff was a real pain in the ass to go around. I'm ganna go back and put the rope I wish was there. The next thing you know, you're loading up your truck with literal tons of raw materials to complete out sections of highway.

You've cleared out everyone's stash of metals and ceramics. You stuff your truck, all 28 XL containers of assorted raw materials, beautifully stacked in the back. You're cruising down the freshly paved highway you just helped create. You have a podcast on and you're swerving spooky ghost creatures. One section done. Then two. Then three. The truck bed is lookin a lot lighter. You get to the last section of highway you planned to finish for that route. Time to cash in those last few containers. It'll be a job well done, clean op, time to dust your hands off. You did the math wrong. Ahh shit. You eye the last few containers rolling around in the back. You look around and spot an old rusted bridge. It's well traveled and loved, but it's seen better days. It's a good distance away but you could repair it with what you have in the back. Your truck is rusted and sparking from all the timefall. But the old girl has no quit in her. She'll always take you to where you need to go. You give that bridge a new lease on life, ready for the next set of muddy boots. Then you head back to the DC, planning your next route all the way to do it all over again. But first, a much needed break for the truck and for Sam.

This game is full little stories like this. I've setup a zipline network which involves braving the sketchiest parts of the world. Fighting through literal nightmare hell zones just to set it up. I booted up the game a few months later. I came back to see that multiple porters not only braved the same hell zone, but they schlepped their own materials to not only make sure it didn't rust away, but even upgraded. They had tons strapped to their backs, fighting like hell just so that the safe passage remains open. It makes my heart swell even as I type this out.

Every playthrough will be unique and deeply personal. Acts of service is the love language that ties every porter together. A simple thumbs up means everything. While I get that it's not a game everyone will enjoy, if anything that I wrote interests you, I hope that you give it a try. It's very special to me.

I highly recommend playing Death Stranding if you got a system to play it on

it’s set in this post apocalyptic world where everyone turns into a nuclear explosion ghost after death and the rain makes you and everything else old and for 30-40 years no one’s been able to do anything to combat it except bunker down underground and incinerate the dead. People are isolated because, wouldn’t you be if your neighbour dying meant your city turned into a crater?

but in spite of this all there’s hope that we can connect people again. The NPCs are relentlessly optimistic that we can manage the explosion ghosts if we work together. So much of it is just, building up small contributions and having them pile up and before you know it, you got something big going on. You’re the big damn hero (a guy with insane core strength who doesn’t die) tackling the (literally) heavy stuff but the NPCs are all eager to contribute whatever they can. Here’s some custom boots. A protoype engine. A non-lethal ranged weapon. A place to stay. A bridge to cross a river. A parcel of materials to build with. A generator just as your truck battery is dying. A good luck charm. A remote operated surgical table. A sign that says Keep On Keeping On.

I think it’s important to remember that the small stuff matters. It helped me a lot during the pandemic. The world is heavy and not everyone can lift 100kg, but we can all do something even if it’s just some words to remind people we’re in it together.

Also, Trump canonically died in a ghost explosion and was utterly annihilated down to the atoms.

[yassbishimvintage]

Ain't Got Shit On Me

MDNI!!!

A/N: @avoidthings be clocking me on all of my shit :). Thanks you bookie.

Warnings: Little fluff if you squint, but smutty smut

It was a quiet night. Terry is busy organizing their room. Something to help with the noise in his head. Terry looked up from the dresser, his brows raised slightly in curiosity. "What’s on your mind, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning back against the counter, giving her his full attention. Imani hesitated for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her shirt before she took a breath. "Do you ever think about what life would’ve been like if we hadn’t met? If... things didn’t happen the way they did?"

Terry’s expression softened as he set the monitor down and crossed the space between them. He gently cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against her cheeks. "I don’t like to think about that, Imani," he admitted. "Because if we hadn’t met, I wouldn’t have the life I have now. No you. No us. None of this."

His voice dropped, filled with quiet intensity. "You changed everything for me. You gave me purpose, love, and a family. So, no, I don’t let myself imagine a life without you because it’s not a life I’d want to live."

Imani’s eyes shimmered with emotion as she leaned into his touch, her heart swelling at his words. "You always know what to say to make me feel like the luckiest woman in the world," she said softly.

Terry smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "That’s because you are," he teased lightly, before adding with sincerity, "and so am I."

He smiles. “Now. My real question is. I still don’t know all of you're sex kinks.” She says.

Terry raised an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he crossed his arms. "Oh, is that so?" he said, his voice low and teasing. "You mean to tell me you still haven’t figured me out after all this time?"

Imani shrugged, feigning innocence, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her playful intent. "Well, you’re full of surprises, Mr. Richmond. I’m just making sure I’m not missing anything... important," she said, her tone light but laced with curiosity.

Terry stepped closer, his hands finding her waist, pulling her gently against him. "Alright, Mrs. Richmond," he murmured, leaning in close, his lips brushing her ear. "How about this? I tell you one of my kinks... but you have to tell me one of yours right after. Deal?"

Imani bit her lip, her cheeks warming under his gaze, but she nodded. "Deal," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Terry grinned, leaning back just enough to meet her eyes. "Okay, here’s one: I love it when you’re completely in charge," he confessed, his tone both honest and flirtatious. "Something about seeing you take control drives me crazy."

Imani blinked in surprise before a slow, mischievous smile spread across her face. "Really?" she asked, her confidence growing as she processed his words. "Good to know... because I happen to like it when you let me take the lead."

Terry chuckled, his hands slipping down to her hips. "Looks like we’re on the same page then," he said, his voice deep with amusement. "Your turn, though. What’s something I don’t know about you?"

Imani hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering to the side before she met his gaze again. "Alright," she said, a hint of shyness in her tone. "I love it when you whisper in my ear during... well, you know."

Terry’s grin widened as he leaned in, his lips grazing her ear once more. "You mean like this?" he whispered, his voice a seductive rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

Imani laughed softly, her hands pressing against his chest. "You’re impossible," she said, shaking her head, though her smile never faded.

"And you love it," Terry replied confidently, pulling her closer for a lingering kiss. "Guess we’ll just have to keep discovering more about each other, huh?"

"Guess so," Imani murmured against his lips, her heart fluttering at the thought.

“And I know you’re a panty sniffer.” She says as she walks away from him with a smile. Terry froze mid-step, blinking in surprise at Imani's bold statement. A slow, mischievous grin crept across his face as he watched her saunter away, her hips swaying just enough to taunt him.

"Excuse me?" he called out, his tone a mix of amusement and mock indignation.

Imani glanced over her shoulder, her smile playful and teasing. "You heard me, Mr. Richmond," she said, her voice lilting with humor. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed."

Terry shook his head, chuckling as he crossed his arms. "Alright, Ms. Carter, you got jokes today," he said, his gaze fixed on her with a smirk. "But you’re not exactly innocent yourself, are you?"

Imani turned fully to face him, her arms crossed and her expression feigning innocence. "Oh? And what exactly are you accusing me of?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Terry took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned in. "Let’s not forget the time I caught you ‘borrowing’ one of my shirts because it smelled like me," he teased. "Or the fact that you still wear it to bed sometimes."

Imani rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed slightly. "That’s completely different," she argued, waving him off.

"Different? How?" Terry pressed, clearly enjoying the exchange.

"Because it’s cute when I do it," Imani quipped, her grin widening as she turned to walk away again.

Terry laughed, shaking his head as he followed her. "Alright, you win this round," he conceded. "But don’t think I’m letting you get away with calling me out like that."

"Oh, I’m counting on it," Imani called back, her voice full of playful confidence as she disappeared into the next room.

“So what’s the reason for it?” She asks.

Terry followed her into the next room, his smirk still in place as he leaned casually against the doorframe. He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her.

"The reason for what?" he asked, though the knowing glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Imani turned to face him fully, arms crossed and a playful smile tugging at her lips. "You know what I mean," she said. "What’s the reason for the whole…panty-sniffing thing?"

Terry laughed, the sound low and rich as he pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her. "You really want to know?" he asked, his voice dropping just enough to make her heart skip.

She nodded, her curiosity genuine despite the teasing nature of the conversation. "Yes, I want to know."

He stopped in front of her, his hands settling on her hips as he looked down into her eyes. "It’s simple," he said softly. "It’s you."

"Me?" she repeated, her voice quieter now.

"Yeah," he replied, his gaze steady. "It’s the way everything about you—your scent, your touch, your presence—drives me crazy. It’s like…a reminder of how close we are, how much I love every part of you."

Imani felt her cheeks flush, her teasing demeanor giving way to a softer expression. "Oh," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Terry leaned in, brushing his lips against her forehead before pulling back to meet her eyes again. "So, there’s your answer," he said with a small smile. "It’s not just a kink. It’s…you."

Imani smiled back, her arms winding around his neck as she leaned into him. "You’re lucky I love you," she teased, though her voice was warm.

"I’m the luckiest man in the world," Terry replied, his tone sincere as he held her close.

She smirks as she steps out of her shorts. She slides down her lace panties. 

Terry’s gaze followed her every movement, his breath hitching slightly as she let the lace fabric fall to the floor. She stood there, her smirk unwavering, her confidence radiating through the room.

"Now, Mr. Richmond," she teased, stepping closer to him, "since you’re so fascinated, why don’t you show me just how much you love me?"

Terry swallowed hard, his smirk turning into a full grin. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Mrs. Richmond," he said, his voice low and gravelly as his hands reached out to grip her hips.

"Am I?" she challenged, tilting her head as her fingers lightly trailed along his jawline.

Without another word, Terry scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her over to the bed. He set her down gently, his body hovering over hers as he locked eyes with her. "You have no idea what you just started," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers.

Imani's laughter filled the room, light and teasing. "Oh, I think I do," she whispered, pulling him down to meet her in a kiss that left no doubt about where the rest of their evening was heading

He picks up the lace panties. Terry leaned down and picked up the delicate lace panties from the floor, twirling them around his finger as he shot Imani a playful, yet devilish, grin.

"You know," he began, his voice smooth and teasing, "these might just be my favorite pair yet. Not because of how they look—but because of what they just witnessed."

Imani raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she lounged on the bed, clearly amused. "You’re ridiculous, Terry," she said with a smirk, through her eyes sparkled with affection.

He stepped closer, dangling the lace in front of her. "Oh, come on now, Mrs. Richmond. Admit it—you left them on purpose. You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist."

She laughed softly, pulling him down by his shirt. "Maybe I did. Or maybe I just know my boyfriend too well."

Terry leaned in, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered, "Either way, you know what this does to me."

Before she could respond, he kissed her neck, trailing his hands over her waist as he tossed the lace aside. His voice dropped to a husky tone. "Now, let me show you exactly how much I appreciate your little game."

He slowly laid her down on the bed and lowered his head. “Tell me to stop.” his voice dangerously low. She smiles and tosses her head back. “Just shut up and eat me out already.” she responds.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayaesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @notpradagurl7 @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmyextragum

[eternalguk]

Pink Hearts & Black Clouds || jjk. — 01

Love me at my lowest, I’ll love you when you’re barely holding on

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of a brooding grunge. Moody, distant, and always a little too sarcastic. A grumpy, tattooed college student who barely tolerates anyone… except you. Somehow, the girl who’s a whirlwind of pink hearts and strawberry lipgloss is the one who keeps dear Jungkook on his toes.

But you must admit… behind that gruff exterior, there’s a side of him only you get to see—gentle, caring, and ready to spoil you in his own way. Everyone else may see him as the tough guy with a permanent scowl, but you know better. Jungkook’s heart? It’s all yours.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, college au, grunge!bf x bimbo!gf, angst, fluff & smut

↠ Word count : 3.8K

↠ Warnings : swearing, making out, teasing, exhibitionism (sex in a lecture theatre), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, slight dumbification, dirty talk, begging, oral sex (m. receiving), ass smacking, scratching, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, use of pet names, sex on a desk (he hits it from the back at one point), a very moody but flirtatious Jungkook paired with bimbo!oc deserves its own warning :) - I think that’s about it?

↠ A/n : Hi there ; here it is! Chapter 01 of my first series, ‘pink hearts and black clouds’ which I am so excited to share. This story means a lot to me as it explores two completely different personalities finding their way together. With bimbo, sunshine!reader and grunge, grumpy!jk, I hope you enjoy exploring this world as much as I loved creating it. It’s messy, it’s fun, it’s emotional, it’s steamy (at times 👀) and it’s absolutely everything I could ask for! I’d love to hear what you think - your reactions, favourite part, or even anything you’d like to see from them in the future! Feedback / comments are always appreciated. Thank you for giving my story a chance & happy reading 🦢.

↠ Song : ‘Closer’ by Jungkook / ‘Good for you’ by Selena G

❧ Chapter 01 : Lipgloss & Leather

prev. || next  || series masterlist || masterlist

A stream of light filters through the wooden, venetian blinds of the lecture theatre windows, slicing through the warm, cinnamon-scented air.

God bless Ms. Choi for her diffusers.

The ambience of the empty theatre is a sharp contrast to the wintry chill that is dancing around outside. The time of season where it bites at your cheeks and refuses to let go. Inside though, the warmth feels like a holiday cocoon, the kind that makes you shed layers and forget the frost clinging to the world beyond your surrounding.

Unfortunately, despite the serene atmosphere, you don’t feel any less distracted.

You are perched in a chair at the back of the theatre, mindlessly playing with your pink glitter gel pen while Jungkook sits on the desk in front of you, legs spread arrogantly, one boot perched on the seat beside yours. The light catches on the silver chain hanging from his neck, a stark contrast to his black t-shirt and ripped dry-denim jeans.

You should be focusing on taking notes for the upcoming midterm, like he told you to do, but instead, your eyes keep wandering back to the powerful man in front of you.

Powerful because he consumes your entire being.

You pout as you swirl a strand of your hair around your finger, oblivious to the smirk curling on Jungkook’s lips as he catches onto your little daydream.

“Not taking notes, princess?” he asks, tone dripping with mockery.

“Erm…” you blink at him, momentarily caught off guard. “I was… thinking?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Thinking. Right. About the syllabus or about how good I look right now?”

Your cheeks flame as he leans forward, chin propped lazily on his tattooed hand. His dark hair falls messily over his face, making him look even more impossibly cocky.

“Both?” you meekly offer, putting down the glitter pen and propping your chin onto your soft hands.

His grin stretches wider. “You’re cute when you lie.”

You smile at the compliment as Jungkook reaches out and grabs the gel pen from the desk, inspecting it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. The sight of his tattooed fingers gripping the sparkly pink plastic makes your heart race.

“Why do you even need this?” he teases, holding the pen just out of reach when you try to grab it back. “It’s ugly, you definitely don’t use it to write anything down and it’s pink.”

Jungkook grimaces, observing the pen as though it’s a foreign object.

You huff and pout harder, crossing your arms. “You said you’d help me study, but all you’re doing is being mean!”

“Mean?” Jungkook cackles, the sound low and gravelly. “Doll, I’m just keeping it real. Someone has to be with you.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst!” you whine, trying again to snatch the pen, but Jungkook is faster. He swiftly moves it behind his back, staring you down with his usual, conceited smirk.

“And yet, here you are. With me.”

“Because you don’t let me leave,” you shoot back, a small huff escaping as you try your best to appear annoyed.

But you aren’t. Not even a little bit.

Especially when Jungkook leans in even closer, his dark eyes scanning your face like he is trying to memorise every detail.

“C’mere,” he says softly, contrasting his suddenly serious expression.

You blink up at him, your heart fluttering. “Why?”

“Just come here, doll. Trust me.”

You hesitate for half a second before leaning forward, and that is all the invitation Jungkook needs to grab your chair and yank you forward, placing you between his legs. Your breath hitches as he cups your face in his hands, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“You’re too fucking pretty, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice so low and intimate that it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Jungkook…” You trail off, feeling utterly flustered and ridiculously warm under his intense gaze.

“What?” he questions, cocking his head playfully. “You don’t like compliments? Want me to call you dumb instead? You like that, huh?”

“N-no!” you stutter, and the way he leans in closer makes your head spin.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, brushing his nose against yours. “My good girl likes being told she’s pretty.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as his lips find yours, the kiss starting soft but quickly turning hungrier. Jungkook kicks your chair back before tugging you impossibly closer, his hands sliding down to your waist.

“Fuck, you taste sweet,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Strawberry lip gloss,” you utter, still fairly dazed.

He hums appreciatively, a smile now evident on his face. “My favourite.”

Jungkook’s hands slides lower, squeezing your hips as he deepens the kiss. You moan softly when he nips at your bottom lip, his pierced tongue sweeping over it a second later.

The sound of the theatre door creaking open in the distance makes you freeze.

The wind.

“Jungkook!” you hiss, pulling back slightly. “What if someone comes in?”

Jungkook grins, completely unbothered. “Free show?”

“You’re impossible!”

“You love it,” he teases, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. His hands tug at the hem of your short pink skirt, hiking it up higher as his fingers toy with the edge of your lace underwear.

“Ahh, is this the pair I got you the other day?”

“Jungkook…” you mewl, voice barely above a whisper. You manage a quick nod, before falling to rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“My doll is always so needy,” he grumbles, his dark eyes locking with yours. “But I don’t mind.”

Jungkook continues to fiddle with your underwear, his hand slipping inside to cup your now soaked sex in his rough hands. “Nice and wet.”

You squirm in his grasp, your cheeks burning as he presses another kiss to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin until you gasp.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

And with that, you give in - like you always do with your lover boy.

“Get on the desk.”

Your heart races as you turn toward the heavy, wooden desk behind you. It feels cold beneath your palms as you hoist yourself up, the sound of your skirt rustling loud in the quiet space. Jungkook watches you intently, his eyes darkening as you settle onto the surface, your legs dangling over the edge.

He steps closer, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your skirt higher.

“Look at you,” Jungkook whispers, his voice dripping with approval. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

You shiver, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as his fingers trace patterns on your skin. Jungkook’s touch feels electric, sending sparks shooting through your veins.

“J-Jungkook—” you stutter, your voice shaky.

“Shh,” he interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Your boyfriend's words send a wave of warmth washing over you, and you let your body sink into the desk as he leans in, his breath hot against your neck. You feel the stubble on his jaw brushing against your skin, the faint scent of his woody cologne filling your senses.

“The way you give in,” he begins, his lips grazing your ear, “is fucking beautiful.”

A soft whimper escapes your glossy lips as his hands move higher, pushing your skirt up to your waist. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and you gasp as he tugs them down, leaving you exposed.

Jungkook is quick to toss them onto his discarded leather jacket draped over the chair beside him. The delicate blush of your pink panties against the rugged, worn leather is a stark contrast that sends your mind spiraling.

“Stunning,” he utters to himself, eyes roaming over your body with a hunger that quickens your pulse.

Why the fuck is this man so hot?

You squirm, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but Jungkook doesn’t give you time to think. Not that there was much going on up there anyway.

His hands grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. He wraps your delicate legs around him, engulfing you in his embrace.

“As beautiful as you look like this,” Jungkook mutters, caressing your cheek, “I need you on your knees.”

You’re quick to comply, gently shoving Jungkook away. He cackles at your eagerness, but deep inside his brooding heart, he feels at awe.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, quick to change personas, voice rough with desire.

Again, you obey without hesitation, your lips parting as he unzips his jeans. His cock springs free, already hard and straining, and your eyes widen as he steps closer, the tip brushing against your lips.

“Suck,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitate for only a second before leaning forward, taking him into your mouth. His taste is salty and masculine, making you moan softly as you begin to move your tongue, your lips wrapping tightly around his girthy member.

Jungkook groans, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides your head up and down. “That’s it, doll,” he encourages, his voice thick with pleasure. “Take all of me.”

You sink deeper, gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t stop, determined to please him.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook effortlessly praises, his grip tightening in your hair. “You were fucking made for this.”

The words send a jolt of heat straight to your core, and you moan around him, the vibrations making him shudder.

“Fuck,” he curses, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “I’ll be painting your face with cum if you keep that up.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Isn’t that what you like?”

Jungkook chuckles darkly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Not yet, baby. I have other plans for you first.”

Before you can even think of a response, Jungkook pulls you off the floor, spinning you around so your back is pressed against his chest. His hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts through your satin blouse as he nips at your earlobe.

“You’re turn, princess,” he whispers, voice sending shivers down your spine for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

You gasp as his cold fingers find their way between your legs, exploring your already soaked folds. He teases you mercilessly, touch light yet maddening enough that it has you writhing in his bulky arms.

“Please,” you beg, voice trembling with need.

You try to grind against him, but Jungkook’s firm grip stops you from doing so.

“Please what?” he taunts, feigning confusion, breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, the words spilling out effortlessly.

Jungkook grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “What my pretty doll wants, my pretty doll gets.”

In one swift motion, he lifts you onto the desk, positioning himself between your legs. Jungkook’s cock presses against your entrance, and you yelp as he thrusts into you in one smooth, powerful movement.

”God, why are you so tight?” Jungkook groans, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to move. “I fucked you this morning.”

The sensation, along with the reminder of your earlier shenanigans, is overwhelming and both the stretch and burn send waves of pleasure through you.

You wrap your legs around Jungkook’s slim waist, urging him deeper as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Harder,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “More.”

Jungkook obliges, slamming into you with a force that has the desk rocking against the floor. The sound echoes through the lecture theatre, mingling with your desperate moans and his guttural grunts.

“Could fuck this cunt all day,” Jungkook growls, his pace increasing as he mercilessly hammers his thick cock into you.

You cling to him, body trembling on the edge of release. But just as you’re about to let go, Jungkook pulls out, leaving you gasping and empty.

“No!” you cry, your eyes snapping open to meet his smug grin.

“Not yet,” he warns, voice firm. “You’re not cumming until I say so.”

You whimper, your body aching with need, but Jungkook isn’t done. He flips you over onto your stomach, hoisting your hips up so your ass is in the air.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice muffled by the desk.

“Giving you what you wanted,” he replies casually, his hands spreading your cheeks apart.

And then Jungkook is inside you again, filling you completely as he drives into you with a ferocity that leaves you utterly breathless.

Your sopping pussy lewdly squelches around Jungkook, completely soaking him. The sound turns the pair of you on further.

“Right there!” You mewl, pushing yourself back onto Jungkook, the pressure making you moan uncontrollably.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Tell me who fucks you this good.”

“Y-you,” you stutter, your voice breaking as he hits your g-spot deep inside you. “This drenched pussy is yours.”

“And who do you belong to?” Your boyfriend growls, his hand coming down on your plump ass with a sharp smack.

“I’m yours!” you cry, the pain mixing with pleasure in the most delicious way. “Love the way you fuck me.”

Jungkook smirks, his pace slowing as he leans over you, lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl. Now come for me.”

As soon as the words leave his filthy mouth, your body convulses, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you come undone. Jungkook isn’t far behind, his own release hitting him with a force that leaves him trembling.

The feeling of his cum oozing into you has you wanting to turn around and ride the fuck out of your lover boy.

Jungkook collapses on top of you, his breath hot against your skin as you both struggle to catch your breath.

“You okay, doll?” he asks, his voice softening as he turns you around and carefully seats you on the desk.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. I’m- wow.”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing.”

“And you, Bakugo,” you reply, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Your lover boy grins, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “Round two after lunch?”

The cafeteria hums with energy, alive with the noise of lively chatter and the sporadic clatter of trays hitting tables.

You’re perched on the bench beside Jungkook, a tray of half-eaten chips and an unopened can of Samjin Mango Soda sitting in front of you.

Across the table, Taehyung and Jimin are engaged in a heated debate about Haikyu, their hands waving dramatically as they try to outtalk each other about the anime the two of them are currently rewatching.

Well, truthfully speaking, all of you have been rewatching, but only the two of them are so deeply interested. Maybe Jungkook, but he’d never admit it.

Speaking of Jungkook, he is slouched against the table, one elbow propped up as his thumb scrolls lazily through your phone, staring at pictures you had taken of yourself today.

And he says he isn’t obsessed.

As usual, he hasn’t said much, just the occasional grunt when someone asks him a question. He looks effortlessly intimidating, his black hoodie (that you finally returned) pulled low over his forehead, his iconic silver chain around his neck catching the light and his usual scowl that is always imprinted on his beautiful face.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more of a contrast. You’re in your own world, a makeshift beauty station spread out in front of you, next to yours and Jungkook’s shared meal. Your compact mirror is propped against the soda can, brushes and glosses neatly scattered around it.

A soft pout forms on your lips as you reapply a coat of your signature lip gloss, the sticky sheen glistening in the light. You’re blissfully focused, tilting your head to inspect your work like an artist perfecting their masterpiece.

“You’re so wrong,” Jimin says, leaning forward with a look of betrayal. “There’s no way Seijoh vs. Karasuno is better than Shiratorizawa vs. Karasuno.”

“It’s about the emotional stakes, Jimin,” Taehyung replies, sipping his iced tea as though he is a certified anime critic. “Oikawa’s genius mind versus Kageyama’s raw talent? That’s art.”

“Art?” Jimin scoffs. “Bro, real art is Ushijima annihilating them with a spike.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Oikawa’s smugness had more impact than any spike ever could.”

“Who’s Kageyama again?” you pipe up, tilting your head.

Jungkook’s phone, well your phone, lowers an inch as he glances at you, his expression blank. “You can’t be serious. We literally watched an episode yesterday.”

You shrug, completely unbothered by the disbelief in his tone. “I don’t remember the boring ones.”

Jimin nearly chokes on his drink, eyes wide in horror. “Boring?! He’s literally the King of the Court!”

“Don’t,” Jungkook says flatly, cutting off Jimin’s impending rant. “She’ll just start listing the hot ones.”

You grin, batting your lashes at him. “Is that a problem, Koo?”

Taehyung leans back in his seat, smirking. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you, Koo?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Jungkook mutters, though his ears tinge pink. “And don’t fucking call me that.”

Taehyung catches it immediately, raising his brows. “Is that a blush I see, Jungkook? The same guy who nearly broke someone’s nose in basketball last week?”

“Fuck off,” Jungkook grumbles, sliding your phone over to you.

“Bro, you’re whipped,” Jimin adds, his laugh practically echoing across the room.

“No I’m not-”

“You are,” Taehyung interrupts, pointing a chip at him. “It’s so obvious. You’ve got that whole, ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ thing going on, but this one over here bats her fake lashes and you’re folding fast.”

“Hey! They’re real,” you protest, leaning forward and resting your chin in your palms.

You study Jungkook with a teasing smile. “Is that true? Am I your kryptonite?”

His eyes flick to yours, dark and unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something - amusement, maybe, or fond exasperation. Jungkook simply doesn’t answer, just grabbing a chip from the tray and popping it into his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say, your smile widening.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. He leans back in his seat, stretching his long legs out under the table, and you notice the way his fingers tap rhythmically against his knee. He looks relaxed, but you know him well enough to recognise the effort it takes to hold back a snarky comment.

“He doesn’t even deny it,” Jimin continues, grinning like he’s won something. “You know what? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you’re good for him.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees, though his tone is far more mischievous. “You’re like the sunshine to his thundercloud.”

“Lipgloss to his cigarette,” Jimin chimes in.

“Or the idiot to his genius,” Jungkook finishes off, his voice dry as ever.

You gasp, smacking his muscular arm lightly. “I’ll have you know I’m very smart!”

“Name the capital of the United States,” he challenges, barely hiding the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Easy,” you say confidently, shrugging your shoulders. “Hollywood.”

Taehyung and Jimin dissolve into laughter, and even Jungkook can’t hold back the small shake of his shoulders.

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

You pout, confused why the boys are laughing. But, the sight of Jungkook joining in with them has you leaning into his side, grinning up at him. “You still like me, right?”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, but his hand moves to casually rest against the small of your back, his fingers caressing the exposed skin.

And that?

That’s the only answer you need.

You busy yourself with dabbing some extra Dior blush onto your cheeks, the sunlight streaming through the window catching the shimmer within it. Jimin plays with your Ilia mascara, shaking his head as he takes in the rest of your makeup that is scattered around.

Taehyung sees that you’re occupied and smirks, leaning closer to Jungkook. “You defo love it, you’re just too much of a moody shit to admit it.”

“Love what?” Jungkook asks, deadpan, though the tightening of his jaw gives him away.

“Having someone fuss over you,” his best friend teases, motioning his thumb towards you with a grin. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, looking down at the now empty takeaway container in front of him like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. “You have nothing better to talk about?”

Your eyes dart to him, catching the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck.

Smiling to yourself, you lean your chin on your palm. “It’s okay, Jungkookie,” you coo softly. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

He glares at you, but there’s no real bite to it. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” you ask, pouting in innocence. “You love it when I call you that.”

Taehyung and Jimin burst into laughter once again at your audacity.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at them before turning to you. For a split second, his fingers twitch on the table, like he’s about to pull you closer. His gaze softens as it lingers on you - like he’s on autopilot, already halfway to pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

But then he stops.

Clearing his throat, he leans back in his chair instead, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head like armour. “You’re insufferable and annoying.”

You blink, caught between surprise and amusement. “You almost- you almost did it!”

“What?” he grunts, refusing to look at you.

“You were going to kiss my head.” Your voice is laced with a playful lilt, but there’s a flicker of something tender beneath it. “Don’t worry, Kookie. Next time, you’ll follow through.”

His tongue pokes against his cheek, a telltale sign of his rising frustration - or embarrassment, you can’t quite tell. “Shut up and eat,” he mutters, tugging his hood lower before he shoves a packet of crisps your way.

Jimin and Taehyung howl in laughter, and you can’t help but join them, even as Jungkook mumbles curses under his breath.

Somewhere beneath the gruffness, there’s the faintest quirk of his lips - a fleeting smile that only you seem to notice.

And in small moments like this you conclude that while Jungkook doesn’t give you flowers or grace you with love letters, he gives you something that is endless - pieces of himself: his time, his trust, his unwavering presence, and a love so consuming it feels like forever.

And there we have it! Please do let me know your thoughts ; the support I receive means the world to me 🫶🏻

↠ Taglist : @bangchanwantsmesobad @rklvez @doulcha @starlight-1010 @mimi1097 @khadeeeeej @jkslvsnella @royalguk @gaebestie @iamstilljk @myjungkookthighs @jungshaking @kookiesgiggles @minimoninini @lovejkmilitarywife @pplongoing @pokolunolino @dontcallmeelle @taeisbae13 @ronyiboniyy @nerdycheol @onlyforyoukook @ukandtwme @morosisxx @smwhrinthehaze @thebluegoddess @ramyun-h @remgeolli @minniejim @cherricherryy @avawants2havefun @fr0ggieth1nk @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeeykey @ficluvr613 @deeznutkooks @kookienooki (names in italics could not be tagged).

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝖄OURS TRULY

Manon Bannerman x actor!fem!reader

summary: being an actress can be pretty demanding, and manon's pretty understanding of the things that came along with your career, but lately it’s feeling a little too real

warnings: slight!angst, some sm posts, jealous!manon, one mean comment, kinda used rachel zegler as a face claim only because i used those pics for the smau, harsh language

Being an actress came with lots of benefits; you travelled all around the world to film in beautiful, exotic locations, you get to meet a lot of amazing new people within and beyond the industry, and you get to do what you were most passionate about. But, it also meant every aspect of your life would be examined under a microscope, on and off set, and you would be made to post or say things that weren’t true just for the sake of promotions or publicity.

You absolutely loathed that part of your job. It has driven a wedge between your relationship with so many ex-boyfriends or girlfriends and even some friendships.

When you met Manon at your good friend and fellow Euphoria costar, Dominic’s New Year’s Eve party, you were absolutely entranced by this walking shred of heaven. Back then, she had not joined Dream Academy yet and she was just in between modelling gigs. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. You had to get to know her better, and by the end of the night you were leaving Dominic’s condo and stumbling into yours with her pressed against you.

When you begun dating, you made sure Manon knew the extents of your career. You were blunt, dating an actress wasn’t always going to be easy, especially with the way tabloids write their own narrative about your life.

a) Your job entailed partial nudity at times; you’ve been in enough movies or series to know women are always asked to strip in front of cameras. You weren’t exactly the biggest fan, but it wasn’t your artistic choice to make.

b) Your job entailed lots of cameras and eyes constantly trained on you, meaning they would spin stories and insane theories out of the most ridiculously insignificant detail. Nothing the tabloids report can ever be trusted.

c) Your job entailed doing things with your costars, i.e. kissing, making out, filming intimate scenes, etc. As somebody in the industry, you have become so desensitized by the concept of faking things for art. But you understood not many people understood the gravity of everything your career demanded from you, and it can cause lots of issues emotionally.

Manon was very reluctant about these three rules at first, skeptical of how bad things had to be for you to drop this on her the first month in. But then she got on dream academy, she then successfully debuted in Katseye, and she, herself, experienced a lot of the things you fell victim to. She understood and accepted much more than she had to because she loved you, she really did, and to anybody with eyes, the two of you were absolutely smitten.

Recently, you were onset of a new project you were cast in—a remake of Romeo & Juliet but with a modern edge to it. Everything was going good, internal reviews for what, and as you wrapped up filming, you were asked to post an ‘wrap dump’ to promote the movie. Your manager presented you with a selection of photos, and you compiled them into a post.

Liked by kitconnor, lararajj & 821,440 others

ynln Can’t wait for ya’ll to see us in six months <3

19 hours ago

user01 THE FIRST SLIDE HELLO???????

user02 yall stronger than me i would’ve fallen in love

dominicfike aye get it sis

ynln you really do be everywhere but the studio

dominicfike kys

user03 has anybody seen the leaked kiss

user04 YES OMG

user05 they’re such a theatre kid power couple

user03 DID YALL SEE KIT GRABBING HER FACE

user06 you can’t convince me they’re not tgt

user07 Is this a hard launch I’m sobbing

user08 girl you ever heard of marketing 😭😭

user09 no they’re dating

user10 THEYRE LITERALLY NOT??

user11 guys y/n’s dating manon rmb not kit

user12 they never confirmed tho so maybe it’s kit

user13 @user12 Denial is a river in Egypt…

You didn’t think much about the post, getting out of your makeup from the day before hitching a ride home with your manager. You had a couple hours to freshen up and get ready before the wrap party that night, and you were very excited to have invited Manon as your plus one.

It was one of those rare days your girlfriend had a day off that matched your schedule. She had her reservations about being seen or photographed with you at such a public event, but you assured her everything was going to be cast and crew only.

Back at her dorm, Manon was doing her makeup on the floor of her room. She had the room to herself, Lara invited some of the girls home for the weekend with her—which meant Daniela was gone as well. Only Sophia and Yoonchae opted to stay home, wanting to spend the free time they had shopping for decorations to liven up their room. She was nervous, to say the least, about meeting all the professional filmmakers and famed actors and directors you worked with every day.

A knock on her door sounded through the music blasting.

“Yo, Manon, you getting ready to go soon?” When she turned her head to catch a glimpse of Sophia poking her head through the doorway, the leader was focused on the phone in her hand, strolling in to stand behind the older member.

“Yeah, heading over to Y/N’s in fifteen-ish… why?”

“You seen Y/N’s latest instagram post?” Sophia asked.

Manon shook her head. She hadn’t been on social media since the night before, she slept in, waking up late and immediately had to throw herself into the shower to get ready.

“Well, you gotta see this shit.”

Sophia knealt, holding her phone out for Manon to peep at the tweet she had pulled up onscreen. The way she snatched the filipina’s phone was nothing short of urgent and stunned.

It wasn’t like Manon hadn’t seen you kiss your costars onscreen, she’s been to many movies watching you lead in a film. But this, watching this bag of bulging muscles in a tank touch you where she usually did, your hands grabbing his face as the two of you made out on a bed?

Manon had never, and I mean ever, felt such rage. She was experiencing so many emotions at once; some rationality, some discomfort, but mostly an overwhelming sense of rage.

She didn’t care. She was a jealous girlfriend. And she can say she understands as many times as she could, but she hated every single time you’d kiss, touch or feel anybody but her. She knew it was what you did for a living, but she couldn’t shed the way she felt like smashing Kit Connor’s face through a wall.

“That’s a wild ass movie your girl’s making,” Sophia scoffed, in attempts to lighten the tension.

Manon’s jaw clenched, shoving the phone back into Sophia’s chest before standing. She was now sad she had gotten her hair and outfit done all nice, because she didn’t feel like showing up to an event thrown somewhat in your honour.

“Manon…? Manon!” Sophia called after the Ghanaian woman, but she had already grabbed her purse and left the house.

When you came out of the shower, your hair wet and your body glistening, you were taken aback by the sudden pounding you heard from your condo’s door. You quickly put on your panties and one of Manon’s oversized shirts. Slipping into your slippers, you stumbled out your bathroom and to the door. Just a couple feet away from it, another round of thrusts throw you off. “I’m coming, Jesus Christ!”

Swinging your door open, you were ready to rip into whomever so disrespectfully made their presence known, but upon seeing your girlfriend, dressed all nice and looking pretty, your expression softened. “Baby, I thought you were coming—!”

She held a hand over your mouth, pushing you into your home before kicking the door shut behind her.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Manz, what the fu—?”

“Are you fucking Kit Connor?” She immediately barked, a hand on your bare chest, backing you up towards the couch. “I get myself all nice and pretty for your party and I find out you’re macking this hunk like there’s no tomorrow?”

Your hand rested on your chest, before you were knocked onto your ass. You glanced up at your dining girlfriend, her lips pursed and her sharp brows knit together.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’re we talking about here?”

She yanked her phone out her pocket, her fingers jabbing at her screen as she pulled up your instagram page. The photos you and Kit took on set was harshly shoved into your face, you gently cradled her hand with both of yours, carefully pulling it back so you could see. She then harshly pulled her hand back, pulling up Pop Base’s tweet of a leaked onset photo.

“When the fuck did you even get these photos taken? I mean, having to do minimal stuff for work is one thing, but letting him carry you and grab your ass and your thighs and getting all close and intimate behind the scenes when you’re not even on fucking camera is so far over the line, Y/N.” she rambled, “Then I have to see you basically dry hump this man?”

You sighed, knowing it was another one of the older woman’s jealous episodes. You tried being more understanding, to listen and calm her down, knowing it was a consequence of your job.

“Baby, please, take a deep breath, okay?” You gently grab the phone from her hand, setting it down on the couch beside you. You entertained your fingers, kissing her knuckles. “What did I tell you about the rules, hm?”

With a pout, Manon’s voice dropped low, “You’re a public figure and need to get intimate with coworkers a lot.”

You hummed, nodding. “That’s right. And y’know what the best way to promote a new movie is?”

She rolled her eyes, staring away. “Dating scandals.”

“Yes, baby, dating scandals.” You tugged at her hands, pulling her down to take a seat. Her body slumped to sit on your lap, her eyes still refusing to meet yours as you fixed a loose curl from her temple. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Manz. I never do things I don’t need to. I took those pictures on a press day a while back when Kit and I were asked to do ‘behind the scenes’ photos, none of it is real.”

“Yeah, well, it looked pretty real when you were eating his face on that bed,” she huffed, “What was I supposed to think?”

You chuckled, nodding. You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling both of you to lie back into the couch. “I know, I know, but I’m not going to the party as Kit’s date, right? He’s not the one I’ve been waiting to see all day.” You gestured at your dripping appearance, “That’s why I wanted you to come in twenty, so I could be ready and beautiful just for you, baby.”

Manon scoffed, “Yeah, you’re lookin’ real rough right now.”

You playfully slapped her at the joke, “I promise you, I am yours, truly. I don’t even care about Kit, because all I think about when I’m at work is coming home and getting to see my ridiculously beautiful and sexy girlfriend.”

That statement seemed to win Manon over, her hands coming up to cradle your cheeks. “You better swear on your life.”

“I swear on this life and the next. I love you, Manz.”

“Mmh, I love you more,” she hummed, leaning in to kiss you softly. When the two of you pulled apart, she sneered, “Is that how you kiss him too?”

You clicked your tongue, a hand reaching under her thigh to move her body so she was straddling you. “Do you really wanna know? I’ll show you exactly what Kit and I do when nobody’s looking.” you spat, earning a gasp from Manon when your hand cupped the back of her neck, yanking her down into you for a heated kiss.

It was a long night of entertaining producing executives and crew members, but you were very happy to have your girlfriend meet the people you’ve been working with for months. When it came time for you to give Kit a hug in greeting though, Manon made sure her disapproval was made known.

You had an upcoming role in the third season of the White Lotus, you were not excited about how the Ghanaian woman would react to the scenes on that show.

[yoonjae20]

5 Times people outside of the immediate Batfamily find out that B is married and the one time the world meets his husband [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

Surprise, surprise! Due to immense positive reaction to the last Spirit Halloween Oneshot, I wrote another Oneshot interconnecting with the previous one. As you can see per the title it's a 5+1 Oneshot! Inspired by PaperPuffin's "Batman's Husband" over on ao3.

Read on ao3. Masterpost.

Previous.

1.

Barbara stretches her arms above her head and winces at the pop her joints make. It’s well into the early hours of the next day and it has been a long night – there had been an Arkham outbreak which needed all hands on the deck. After 5 stressful hours every Rogue was captured and back behind bars – all that remained were the reports they needed to fill out.

“I’ll head off for the night, I want to get at least a little bit of sleep before I have to go open the library,” Barbara announces over the comm.

“Thank you for your help today, Oracle,” Bruce grunts and Barbara is about to put down her headset when she hears paper getting shuffled around before the distinct sound of ceramic being settled down echoes through the comm.

“Thank you dear,” Bruce’s voice is surprisingly soft and Barbara wonders who brought the man tea – Cass perhaps? There’s some incomprehensible murmurs before Bruce hums thoughtfully. “I’ll probably be done in about 20 minutes or so – just need to finish this report. You can go ahead to bed – I’ll follow you in a bit.” Some more unclear mumbles, but distinctly male before Bruce snorts. Then there is the distinct sound of lips meeting each other. “Good Night, I love you.”

Barbara feels like she intruded on a very intimate moment and she quickly logs out of the comm system before she bursts the bubble Bruce seems to have settled in. 

She places her headset next to her keyboard before rolling backwards and only then she lets out the squeal she had been holding in. Since when has B been in a committed relationship? She’s so gonna milk Cass for the details – she needs to know everything. 

2.

“Where’s Bruce?” Steph asks as she meets the rest of the Batfamily in the manor for movie night.

Normally the man never skipped out on those unless on an out of world mission.

“On a date,” Tim says absentmindedly as he scrolls through their selection.

Steph’s face scrunches up.

“As in Brucie?”

Jason snorts.

“Actually no,” he says. “Do you remember Bruce’s ring?”

“Yes?” Steph answers, uncertain where Jason is going with this.

“Yeah, apparently he’s married.”

“Wait, what?” Steph doesn’t believe her ears. Bruce Wayne? As in - brooding, stoic Bruce Wayne, who goes out at night in a Furry Costume to fight crime? “For how long?”

Jason turns to Tim who startles with all the attention on him. 

“26 years,” Tim states and Steph almost chokes on her spit. 

“No way.” Steph shakes her head. “That would mean he’s been married since well before like either of us all knew him!”

“Believe me, we were also quite shocked,” Jason mutters, before adding something under his breath. “Should have known that even his taste in men is quite peculiar.” 

Tim starts their movie, but Steph can’t focus for a single second. What the hell is ‘peculiar’ supposed to mean? 

3.

Lois opens the door to see Bruce standing before it – along with a gift bag where a bottle of champagne is peeking out of it.

“Bruce!” Lois greets him warmly. “I’m glad you were able to make it!”

The man grunts before handing her the gift bag and following her into the house.

“Clark is doing a little errand, but he’ll be here soon enough.”

Bruce just nods and Lois settles down the gift bag on her kitchen counter, pulling the champagne bottle out. Her and Clark are celebrating their 15th wedding anniversary and the latter had wanted to invite Bruce to a simple, quiet dinner in their house in Smallville. 

“Where are the boys?” the man questions when he sees that their table is only set for three people.

“Jon said he had a hang-over with Damian and Kon is on a mission with the Teen Titans.”

Bruce hums and soon Clark arrives back from his errand and they sit down at the dinner table.

In the middle of the meal, Clark opens the Champagne bottle with a loud pop before filling three glasses. Clark raises his own glass as he clears his throat.

“To another 15 years!”

Lois echoes the sentiment while Bruce nods stoically. 

Their glasses clink as they toast to each other and then they finish their meal. Bruce still sips on his first glass of champagne when Clark broaches the topic.

“This would have been even better if you also had someone at your side, Bruce,” the man says. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow and Clark coughs at the man’s deadpan expression.

“Just imagine if we could have celebrated your 15th anniversary too!” the man tries to save the conversation and Lois snorts at her husband fumbling. 

“What Clark wants to say is that we wish for your happiness and that we sometimes wonder if a partner would achieve that,” Lois helps out and Clark shoots her a relieved smile. “We've never really seen you date anyone – and those headlines about ‘Brucie Wayne’ don’t count, you know?”

“That might be because my 27th wedding anniversary is coming up,” Bruce says as if he is talking about the weather.

Clark sputters while Lois’ eyes widen. 

Bruce raises his right hand and Lois’ eyes focus on the ring on his ring finger – it only now really registering for Lois. It had almost become invisible over the years. Bruce’s lips twitch into a faint smirk.

“Or do you guys think of this as decoration?”

Lois' eyes twinkle as she suddenly pulls out her notepad. 

“Tell me everything.”

4.

A knock on his window makes Jim pause in his reading. The world outside is dark and Jim groans when he sees the time displayed in the corner of his screen. 03:57 am. He had been supposed to be home more than a few hours ago to eat dinner with his daughter.

His joints creak when he stands up from his seat — walking over to the window. He’s not surprised to find a looming shadow lingering behind it — quickly letting Batman in.

The man enters, landing softly and without a sound before he hands him a file. Jim purses through it — quickly recognizing it to be one of his recent murder cases.

“Red Robin made a breakthrough,” Batman explains gruffly. “He wanted you to receive this as quickly as possible.”

Jim nods before settling the file on his desk, before sinking back into his chair.

“I hope you are not planning on going back on patrol.” Jim rubs his tired eyes as he shuts down his computer. “While you may be a Cryptid, even you need your sleep.”

Batman’s soft snort surprises James.

“Actually I wasn’t,” the man claims. “My partner was very adamant about the fact that I would deliver this file and then go straight back to the Cave no matter what happens.”

Jim pauses. ‘My partner.’ The way the Batman had said it so casually surprises Jim. 

He barks out a laugh.

“Good that there’s someone other than Agent A looking out for you then,” he teases as he watches the computer turn black. “You need it.”

Batman huffs out a breath and that’s as good as a laugh for the man than anything. 

“Update me on the case,” the man says in lieu of a goodbye before disappearing out of the room with a swish of his cape.

Jim leans back in his seat, snorting. He never expected anyone to tame the Dark Knight — but apparently even the impossible is possible. 

5: Wayne Enterprises staff 

The Board Meeting dragged on. It was one of those rare times that Bruce actually attended them - normally he left those to Tim, but the boy hadn’t had time this time.

Once again Lucius applauds Bruce’s ability to stay patient even when Tiffany from HR drones on about unnecessary gossip — only smiling politely and nodding once here and then. 

They had gone over the new developments and their future goals already and were well into their allotted one hour time slot. Most of them knew by now that these meetings often overrun and could go well up to two hours if no one (most of the time either Tim or his assistant) cut it short.

Normally Bruce is well versed in being the picture perfect CEO - kind and never once complaining. However this time Lucius notices the man glancing at both the clock opposite to him and his watch that he is wearing multiple times as they near the one hour mark. Lucius can even hear the man audibly grit his teeth and his left eye twitching once Tiffany goes on another tirade.

It’s 10 minutes past their allotted time slot that Bruce seems to have enough — he cuts off Tiffany's rant about one of their engineers with a firm, “Well if that’s everything — I have to get going. My partner and I are celebrating our anniversary.”

Then he promptly leaves the room after dropping that bombshell. Not a millisecond later when the door closes the room erupts in hushed whispers. Lucius doesn’t doubt that by the end the entire building will know about the man’s “mysterious” partner. Lucius quietly schedules a press conference for the next day.

+1

The media gets wind of it by the next day — because of course they do. Each headline is more extreme than the next and Danny has fun teasing Bruce by reading each one out. 

The interview Lois had forced Bruce and Danny into would probably go up either tomorrow or today now that the cat was out of the bag so to speak, but he probably would still need to address the general public in the press conference. Bruce silently thanks Lucius for his foresightedness in scheduling a press conference for today – Bruce had been tired yesterday, the exhaustion loosening his lips. While he didn’t want to hide away Danny now that he was back, he had wished for more time to announce it on his own terms. 

Bruce stands in front of the mirror as he adjusts his tie and Danny stands behind him, chin on his shoulder and arms around his waist. 

“You’ll do fine,” Danny cheers up Bruce. “Just deflect to the fact that an exclusive interview is going up soon and keep it short and simple.”

“You are not one who has to address them,” Bruce grumbles. 

“Do you want me to?” Danny’s voice is uncharacteristically serious. 

Bruce turns to see the man instead of looking at him through the mirror. Danny runs a hand through Bruce’s styled hair before settling it on the man’s cheek. A finger brushes Bruce's lips before Danny pulls him in for a soft kiss.

“You know I would do everything for you, darling.”

Bruce huffs out a fond breath and settles his forehead against Danny’s.

“I know,” he confirms, before linking their hands. “Together?”

“Together,” Danny affirms with a grin. 

Danny changes into a nice dark blue suit – complementary to Bruce’s blue tie and together they step on the stage to address the news. Both of them smile as they wave at the flashes of the cameras.

“Hello Gotham,” Bruce greets. “This is my husband – Danny.”

[bunnithechubs]

i want to set you world on fire.

transcript:

[TEXT THREAD WITH VINNY 7:00 PM] V: Hey, beautiful, I know I said I would send a car but I want to see you as soon as possible. I'm going to come pick you up instead. R: One condition. V: Anything. R: I don't want to sit in a car you've previously used with another woman. V: Reina, you could tell me to sign over my bank account and I would do it. An unused car is easy. I'll see you at 7:30 pm. Can't wait to see you. R: I expect full access to your bank account as entry :)

[TEXT THREAD WITH VINNY 7:20 PM] V: It's a little early but I'm here. I can wait for you if you're not ready yet. R: I'm ready. Come up.

V: You’re making me rethink dinner with you in this dress, Blue. R: Maybe if you impress me enough, I might let you figure out what is underneath it. V: You really love pushing me to my limits. R: I do, especially because it’s so easy to do. I mean I got you to send me fifteen hundred bucks for one picture. V: Probably not the smartest finanical decision I’ve made but it was worth it. I got you a little something on my way here. R: Is it access to your bank account?

V: laughs Maybe if you let me take you one a few more dates. I actually picked these up for you. R: More flowers? Were the hundreds you already sent not enough? V: Nope. R: Do you get women flowers often? V: Only once. R: raises eyebrow V: Relax, it was for my sister in law when she gave birth. R: Did she like them? V: Maybe one day you can ask her yourself. R: Family already? A bit soon. V: I said one day, now read the card.

CARD READS: "You are my greatest adventure" - Vinny

R: You misspelled nightmare. V: You know, Reina. I like that about you. R: Like what about me? V: You’re impossibility to be romanced. R: Maybe you’re just really bad at it. V: Oh am I? R: Would not recommend. V: Then why let me take you out to dinner? R: I’m bored and the slightest bit horny. V: So you’re just using me? R: Precisely. V: Let me ask you something- I want an honest answer. R: Don’t whine when I hurt your feelings, but go ahead.

V: What is it going to take to get you to stop busting my balls? R: You on your knees crying for me. V: You’re lying to me, Reina. R: I’m not. I want to see you broken down to the very last particle of that dog shit man that you are. I want your only thoughts to be of me and what you can do to please me. I want you begging for my approval and attention. [silence] R: So what is it going to be Vin-

[agnireed]

Rainfall

summary 🏹 you've convinced yourself daryl hates you and that only increases when you have to go on a run together

word count 🏹 9.8k

warnings 🏹 large age gap, daryl and reader are embarrassingly bad at feelings, slow burn, slightly ooc side characters (maggie and beth)

thank you to @sparklytyphoondaze for the suggested prompt!

You had almost started to think you were going crazy right alongside the state of the world. 

There wasn’t any other person, before or after that fall, that could bring you to the level of confusion and anger that Daryl Dixon managed to without fail every time you were forced to speak to each other. It was made even worse by the fact you had no idea what about you got him so upset.

You contributed to the group whenever you were needed and then some, you had never once insulted him or even sent a mean look his way unprompted and there was certainly no stand out event that had seared this bitterness into his mind. 

It seemed like he just hated you for no reason at all and this drove you insane in a way that you wish it didn’t. You didn’t necessarily fall under the belief that everybody had to like you but it really rubbed you the wrong way that somebody had decided they didn’t just because of the way you were.

At first you had figured it had to do with your young age but he didn’t sneer at Beth the same way he did with you and nobody else seemed to agree with your assumption whenever you pried them for any known information. 

You certainly had too much time on your hands these days at the prison because you had gone full blown investigator mode to try and figure out what you had been doing so wrong.

Maybe you reminded him of somebody from his past that he had a hard time with or possibly he found annoyance in the fact you managed to carry your love for all things pink and cute over into the apocalypse with you. You felt ridiculous for actually taking this to heart and you frowned at yourself in the mirror when you pulled a particularly beige tank top over your head instead of your typical blush colored ones. 

Daryl wasn’t going out of his way to be mean to you or specifically targeting you when he didn’t have to but a slightly annoyed glance from the man was enough to rattle you for the rest of the day, for reasons you didn’t really understand.

You prided yourself on being pretty tough and there was a lot you could handle before you even felt a twinge of upset but not when it came to the stoney archer. 

He was easy enough to ignore but that was full blown impossible whenever it came to Rick allowing you to do anything the other group members did. He would scoff angrily under his breath and storm off when you were assigned to go on a run and you’d see them having heated discussions whenever you were put on gate duty for long shifts. 

It was clear to you that he didn’t find you capable of helping out and although he never outwardly said it you knew that he felt uneasy trusting the lives of the others in your hands, marking you as a liability even though you’d never so much as tripped on a run let alone endangered people you considered family. 

“Am I really that bad?” You would have felt ridiculous for being so whiny but you knew Beth and Maggie were used to you coming into a cell with this exact tone by now. You had seen the look they shared when you flopped down onto the bed with a groan and now your eyebrows furrowed as you sat back up to face them. “What was that look?”

The younger of the sisters fell silent and she looked almost like she was holding in a laugh as she watched the side of Maggie’s face and waited for her to say whatever it was they were silently communicating. 

“Nothing honey it’s just…” Her familiar light twang was doing very little to soothe your worry and annoyance and you leaned in closer as she took a second to pause and stifle a building laugh. “Are you wearing brown?”

You froze as you processed her words before glancing down at the shirt you had thrown on today and groaning at the same time Beth was finally letting out an actual laugh. The sight of you in anything this shade was certainly unfamiliar and clearly a big enough deal that it was all they could focus on right now, ignoring your question you had originally asked in favor of making fun of you. 

“I don’t think his issue with you is you being girly.” Beth had a voice that couldn’t sound anything but sweet even if she tried so you took her statement as genuine reassurance even if she was still attempting to tease you. 

The pair had long been subjected to your ramblings about the older man and every little biting remark or disinterested stare he sent your way and they were just as stumped as you. Although they provided no solution for your issue it was still comforting to know you weren’t making it up and other people had noticed his distaste for you.

You sulked back to your own cell only an hour or two after joining the sisters and listening to them ramble about their own problems and thoughts, commonly occurring sessions where you could all get some things off your chest. It was a nice dynamic and you often felt touched by how easily they had brought you into the fold of their sisterly bond. 

Everybody in the group felt the same to you, love and trust apparent between each of you and then all together as a whole. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for the people inside these walls and you felt no doubt in them doing whatever it would take for you in return if and when you needed it. 

There was only one exception to this feeling and you were growing more and more frustrated by his refusal to bond with you, even if it was surface level.

You didn’t think Daryl would leave you without water if you were dying of thirst but you figured if it was in a high tree he might just tell you it wasn’t worth the effort.

Your theory was most likely going to be tested in some shape because Rick was approaching you the next day to tell you in the most stern voice he could muster that you would be going on a run. You could tell from the look in his eye that he was telling you this way because a certain somebody would be tagging along but you expected that it was just going to be the two of you on your own.

“Ain’t happening.” Daryl seemed just as dejected as you did at the news but Rick had apparently given him alot less time to be upset about it considering the words flying from his mouth when he saw you and your leader approaching him on his bike, already loaded up and at the gate ready to go. 

You sighed at the realization you were a surprise guest, annoyance in your gut knowing this would only further his hatred towards you.

“Who would you prefer?” Rick was spitting back at him in a half whisper like it would save you from being able to hear. You were even more hurt at the way he phrased it, clearly letting you in on the fact they had had this conversation before. “The cars can’t get through, not on that route.”

“I can ride a bike.” You weren’t sure why you had tried to help out with the slightly useless piece of information, knowing neither of them would ever let you go by yourself on a run let alone with Daryl’s bike. If either of them seemed surprised by the fact then they didn’t show it but his sneer turned to you faster than you could retract your suggestion. 

“Like hell you will.” He said it so harshly that you were almost taken back by it. He was never kind to you but it certainly hadn’t gotten to this point in quite some time and your eyes flashed with surprise as you took a few steps backwards so you were further behind Rick.

He watched you for a breath or two after that and you almost thought you saw regret passing over his face even though it was gone as quickly as it came once he faced Rick again. You were pushing yourself further back with another sigh so they could quickly have their biting conversation and get it over with. 

You’d already done the checklist in your head and realized there truly was nobody else who could both be on the back of his bike and also perform well in a run and it was only a matter of time before he understood that too. He was an asshole but he wasn’t unreasonable and you knew he wouldn’t completely abandon a run just because he didn’t want you coming along.

Your theory proved correct because soon enough you were settling yourself on the seat behind him and smiling tightly at Rick when he placed a hand on your arm, silently wishing you good luck with a firm nod.

You did your best to ignore his grumbles for you to hold on and luckily you had grown up on a bike and weren’t saying that for no reason so it was easy enough to sit still and not disturb him. There was a deeper bratty part of you that wanted to softly rock side to side just enough to get his attention and annoy him but you decided against it.

If he was going to dislike you then you wanted it to be a complete reflection of his poor character and nothing to do with you.

He was surprisingly docile for most of the long ride and even let you take a break on the side of the road midway through so you could both stretch your legs and avoid cramping up by the time you got there and actually had to be on high alert. 

“It’s a nice bike.” You felt stupid for speaking as soon as you heard the sound of your own voice and saw his head snapping up to look at you.

He was crouching down near it like he was investigating an issue but you knew he was just pretending to be busy to avoid the awkward silence or having to talk to you, two things that were currently happening thanks to your lack of impulse control.

“Sorry.” You were sighing and awkwardly looking away from him, taking a few steps closer to the tree line because how uneasy his strong gaze was making you feel. A rush of embarrassment overtook you and you strangely felt like you were going to tear up for some reason, pushing some loose rocks with your foot and glancing down the road. 

“S’all good.” He was finally responding and your eyes widened in surprise, glad to see he had looked away again just in time and didn’t see your reaction. “Was my brothers.”

“I remember.” Your voice was soft because you had actually known where the bike came from just from hearing him mention it a handful of times and you also knew enough to know why he tensed at the reminder that you had actually met his brother.

Daryl hadn’t been as docile then in his anger both towards you and everybody else and it felt like you got left behind with Merle on that rooftop when he decided to let down some of his walls and start trusting people. You weren’t a part of that equation which confused you even more now that you started to recall the earliest days of your meeting.

You had been pretty much the sole target of Merle’s disgusting rants about the women in the camp, making comments in passing about the others but really locking in on you whenever you were in his line of sight. He switched between degrading you and your ability to keep up with him and the men with you to just as quickly cat calling you and encouraging you to join him in camp.

There was a quickly built resentment towards him and his brother but the latter faded when you would catch Daryl defending you when he assumed you were out of earshot, at least the best he could without enraging his brother. 

He would tell him to leave you alone when he noticed his brother's hazy eyes zoning in on you like he wanted to approach or make a quick comment about how you were too young for him to be perving on you. All mild attempts to derail Merle’s small attention span but you appreciated the effort considering it was much more than the other men around camp would do and they didn’t have a reason to be cautious of the wild man like Daryl did.

That had all changed when Rick showed up and you felt a surge of hope as soon as you heard him addressing the group for the first time, solid and sturdy in his words even when he was allowing Shane to still bark the orders and have control.

You knew from the first day that you finally had somebody to take lead over your dire situation and you knew men like Merle Dixon would never bother you again.

No part of you thought Daryl was similar to his brother in any way but you still felt the same hurt regardless if it was intentional from his end. 

“C’mon.” He wasn’t giving you a response to what you had said and you were glad he hadn’t, much preferring the loud hum of the bike to help quiet your endless thoughts. 

This time he didn’t completely tense up when you were circling your hands around his waist and you were weirdly finding some comfort knowing he was with you when you thought back on those days at the quarry. Was there a different world where Daryl didn’t dislike you and kept up the protective streak he’d shown back then or was that sincerely a complete one off?

You wondered if it would be weird to ask him directly about what you had done to upset him, both bringing it to reality for the first time and also exposing yourself for caring way more than you should about what he thought.

It might have been an age thing that led you to not only not wanting to disappoint him but you found yourself actively wanting to impress him and catch his attention. Even an interested gaze rather than an annoyed one would probably make your day at this point and you found yourself ridiculous for the tenth time since you left the prison just a few hours ago.

There was the same urge in you when it came to Rick and Hershel, even Glenn occasionally although you looked towards him more as a brother while the latter two reminded you of that fatherly connection you’d always seeked out.

You felt warmed whenever Hershel checked in on you and softly told you to take better care of your health and you’d do just about anything Rick asked of you as long as it meant he was proud of you and felt you were a good addition to the group.

Your nose scrunched up at the thought of thinking towards Daryl in any type of fatherly way and you quickly scratched that idea off your endless boards of guesses.

Luckily he was pulling to a stop before you could jot down anything else in your mental notebook and you glanced around your surroundings for just a second before you were bracing your hands on his shoulders and swinging your leg over his bike, landing flat on your feet with a little groan.

The muscles in your thighs were tight from the stretch and constant tensing to brace yourself around turns and debris in the road and you imagine he was feeling a similar pain judging by the face he made when he roughly kicked the stand down to steady the bike.

You silently watched him as he covered it in light shrubbery, opting to stay out of his way and let him do whatever it was he felt like he needed. It was always simpler to wait for him to tell you what to do instead of doing it on your own and dealing with him getting angry and correcting you. 

He whistled lowly and started to walk away from you and you took the wordless cue easily, following behind with a hand on your knife holster and your eyes sharp to your surroundings. 

There was no amount of huffing and puffing from him that would make you think you were a liability out in nature. You didn’t have as quick of reflexes as he did and there was no way you’d ever catch up in terms of survival skills but you were good at handling yourself and extremely light on your feet.

Luckily there was a lack of complaints from him today as the two of you approached the small strip mall quietly and fast, half crouched in a way that made your knees ache as you followed behind him. 

He stopped too abruptly behind an abandoned car for you to notice and you bumped into his back, immediteyly reaching out in an attempt to steady him and he turned his head to glare at you over his shoulder. The walker growls in the distant stopped you from verbally apologizing but you hoped he could see it in your eyes.

That must have annoyed him enough that he decided you shouldn’t be behind him and out of sight, shaking your hands off of him before taking a few low steps back and nudging you forward.

You sighed at his clear lack of forgiveness but focused on the task at hand and made sure the area was clear before moving forward and finally reaching the buildings. You could see one of the windows were busted as you pushed yourself against the wall and you glanced at him once he reached you.

He was as close to you as he ever probably had been and you took a few seconds to watch the way his built chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths, shoulders pressed to yours and face blank as he glanced at you.

“Walkers.” You more mouthed the words than actually spoke and his gaze dropped to your lips.

You felt incredibly stupid and thrown off when you felt a heat rising to your cheeks at the action. You knew he was simply trying to read you lips and not looking at you for any other reason but your brain apparently decided today that you enjoyed the idea of him looking at you like that. 

It was probably the worst possible moment to be hit with the fact that you wanted him to think about you in that way, your entire body freezing up when you pieced together why exactly you yearned for his approval. It certainly wasnt fatherly at all because you apparently had a crush on Daryl Dixon.

“What the hell are you doing?” His raspy voice hissing at you defiantelty wasnt helping you in your moment of understanding but your eyes widened realizing he had been trying to tell you something while you were frozen. “C’mon girl, move.”

You were quick to nod your head to show him you processed the demand and then he was gone, turning the corner and pushing his way into the building. He must have had a good idea of how many walkers were inside and you werent sure if that was something he had figured out silently or if that was another piece of dialogue you had msised in your dilemma.

He didnt seem at all bothered while taking the three still up and walking around out and you watched him silently, not daring to get in the way when he was swinging his crossbow around and taking off heads. He was still breathing heavily when he turned to check on your whereabouts and this time you could see some anger beneath the exhaustion. 

The flush still on your cheeks was now being partnered with a heat in your gut and you realized just how fucked you actually were.

When had this happened and why did it take you so long to realize what this actually was? How did you manage to delude yourself into thinking it was normal that you were hanging off his every word and going over your small interactions dozens of times.

You’d even thrown on this hideously colored shirt thinking he might like it better than your normal wardrobe and you’d actually been upset when he hadn’t glanced twice at it earlier.

He was furrowing his eyebrows and you assumed he was half a second before asking you what the hell you were staring at but he didnt get a chance considering his eyes were darting over your shoulder with a look of panic that let you know exactly what he saw.

You didn’t even hear the growl of the walker behind you before you were gripping the handle of your knife and attempting to spin around but it was already too late and it was taking you to the ground so hard your head smacked against the old wood and your knife was being thrown somewhere too far for you to reach.

“Daryl.” Your voice was a high pitched screech as you desperately shot one hand out to attempt to grip anything that would allow you to kill the raging walker while your other one was pressed tightly around its shoulder to try and keep its clamping jaw away from your face.

It was so close you could hear the moisture in its mouth and feel its breath on your cheek, a whimper leaving you as you felt its hands on your body trying to find any soft bit of flesh to grip its claw into. 

The walker was falling limb ontop of you and although only a few seconds had passed since youd fallen, it felt like an hour of struggling with its strength and your entire life flashing before your eyes. You’d been in close call situations before but never something like this and you knew you would’ve been dead if Daryl hadn’t been here or even in the same room.

You were breathing heavily and shame hit you at the same time a heavy sob did, fully processing what almost just happened because you hadnt been paying attention to your surroundings. 

“Fuck.” Your voice was pained with a groan as you tried to life the waker off of you but it was large in size, possibly taller than Daryl and without a doubt heavier. It was lifted off of you as soon as you started to struggle and you were only half surprised to see his face looking down at you as he easily removed it.

For once he didn’t look cold or emotionless as he looked at you, a similar panic on his face as he crouched down beside you and scanned over your neck and face for any sign of a bite. 

You were about to reassure him that you hadn’t been bit but he was cutting you off by pushing your shirt halfway up your stomach, revealing so much bare skin that you felt almost shy even though you knew he was just checking you for scratches once he realized where the walker had its hands.

He didn’t dare touch your exposed stomach but his gaze was heated as he looked around your heaving ribs, pausing when he saw small pink marks on your waist.

“It’s okay right?” You sounded panicked as you sat up slightly to inspect it with him, your hand smoothing over the discoloration and feeling only a bit relieved when you didnt feel any signs of it being indented. “He just grabbed me tightly but he didn’t scratch.”

“Let’s go.” His voice was low and cold and he was standing halfway before gripping your forearm and tugging you up with him, starting to drag you towards the door.

You were frowning and shaking your head, looking back at your abandoned knife on the floor and placing a hand on the doorframe to stop him from pulling you. You knew he still easily could have removed you if he wanted but you both understood there was no way to get back on a motorcycle with an unwillingly particpant. 

It wasn’t as simple as throwing you in a car and shutting the door and your other hand came up to grab his wrist.

“We can’t leave.” Your voice was more pleading than argumentative, wanting him to see you were still willing and eager to follow his directions if it meant staying. “We haven’t even looked around yet. Theyre counting on us.”

“Nah. I’ll circle back tomorrow with Maggie.” He was steely in his answer and didn’t even seem to process what you were trying to tell him. He had clearly made up his mind and your eyes were desperate as you stared at him.

“I’m sorry for not paying attention.” It was your second time apologizing for something that wasn’t your fault and this seem to strike a particular nerve with him because he was fully turning towards you and letting go of your arm so he could point at you angrily. 

“You almost died, we’re leaving.” He was making a move for the door again and a wave of panic went through you, halfway thinking he might leave you there if you didn’t join him. He was leaving no room for argument and the look he gave you when you grabbed his shoulder made ice shoot through your veins.

He didn’t seem to understand why you couldn’t bare just leaving and going back to the prison empty handed. Did he not realize that there was nothing you feared more than disappointing your group members, not even a walker practically breathing down your throat could rattle you the way that could. 

His shoulders lost some of the tension when he saw the look on your face and you suddenly wanted to shout at him and ask him what his problem was, demand he tell you why he had been so endlessly cruel to you for so long. 

But now you were wondering if he actually had been or if you were simply throwing an internal fit because he didn’t give you an overt amount of attention, doubting your own reality now that you had fully accepted that you might have a stupid crush on the older man.

You had fresh tears joining your dried streaks now, cutting through the dirt on your face almost comically and he was biting the inside of his cheek like he couldn’t figure out how to comfort you right now or atleast make you stop crying.

Finally he was sighing and nodding his head so quick you almost missed it, pushing past you so he could venture further into the shop and silently let you know that you were getting what you wanted and continuing the run.

You made sure to push down any thoughts of him for the rest of the trip so you could focus on getting what you needed without endangering yourself again and you actually managed to get quite a big chunk of the stuff on the necessity list, even grabbing some extra fun things for Carl and a top you thought Beth might like. 

An hour or so had passed when Daryl made his way back to you and you could feel him watching you as you rifled through the clothing rack, not turning to face him and instead letting him approach you for once. 

“Suits you.” His light tone shocked you enough that you let go of the pink sleeve you were inspecting on the hanger. You had expected him to make a snide comment about you wasting time looking at clothes instead of finding something useful but apparently he had run out of the energy to argue with you.

“Because its childish?” You had humor in your voice with your response but it wasnt genuine, more so trying to deliver the punch line before he could. 

“Nah, just suits you.” He didn’t play into your accidental bait and you narrowed your eyes at him before sighing and pulling the pink sweater off the rack, dusting it off before dragging it over your head and the brown shirt you were wearing.

You figured you looked a bit puffy with the double layering and it was far too hot for the thick fabric but you held your hands out like you were presenting the outfit to him and although he didnt laugh, you thought you heard him lightly scoff at your display.

 

You finished stuffing your gifts for the others into your already full bag before joining him as he moved further into the large building, side by side as you followed the range of his flashlight with your eyes. 

“Why’re you wearing that shit anways?” He surpised you by still trying to make conversation and you starting to wonder if he had been the one to hit his head earlier, glancing at him just to find he was already watching you from the corner of his eye.

At first you thought he meant the sweater but you realized he meant your original outfit, heat once again rising to your cheeks when you pieced together that he had actually noticed your change in color scheme. 

You weren’t exactly sure how to explain that you had done it to appear more mature for him without making a complete fool of yourself so you opted for shrugging your shoulders and remaining silent, letting him figure it out for himself like you so often had to.

“Someone say something to you?” He paused in his stride and you turned back to look at him in confusion, furthering when you saw the twitch in his jaw and that same cold look in his eyes. This time it didn’t seem directed at you but that didn’t help you figure out the situation in the slightest. 

“Like what?” Your voice was still soft and almost a whisper, like you were guiding to him towards actually giving you an answer to something for once. Your head slightly titled and the movement made him take another step back for some reason, almost like he was afraid of you. “Like how I dress like a toddler? Or maybe something about being a walking signal for walkers?”

It almost took him a few seconds into your sentences to realize you were repeating back to him things he had said before, quick comments made in fits of anger that he clearly hadn’t thought you’d take to heart let alone remember word for word. You scoffed at his taken back reaction and nodded your head bitterly, tightening your grip on your backpack strap and moving towards the exit.

If he was bothered by you leaving him behind in the dark building then he didn’t show it on his face but you felt regret for doing it as soon as you were outside by yourself, standing next to his bike impatiently and waiting for him to join you. 

Thunder cracked in the distance as soon as his foot hit the dirt and both of you paused to look at eachother, dread growing in you knowing what he was thinking before he even had to say it.

You were groaning loudly and lugging your stuff back inside, bumping his shoulder on your way in. You both knew you wouldn’t be able to ride home that long with a storm coming so you had no choice but to spend the night in the same building you had nearly died in a few hours prior with a man who wanted nothing to do with you.

He was outside for atleast thirty minutes and you figured he was hiding his bike somewhere more secure or possibly checking the perimeter now that you were going to be letting your guards down a bit to get some rest.

You could hear rain drops hitting the windows before he came back inside and although they were light, you knew he must be getting damp out there. You sighed as you made your way to the clothing racks to find him something to dry to wear, telling yourself you were only doing the kind gesture because you were restless.

“Y/N?” His voice was loud and panicked when he closed the door behind him, not seeing you anywhere near the entrance and finding your bag left behind on the floor. “Damn it.”

Your eyes rolled when he initally called your name and you almost planned to ignore him but you still couldn’t find it in yourself to be unnecessarily rude so you gathered the clothes and headed back towards the front.

His body relaxed slightly when he saw you coming out of the dark but he froze again when his gaze dropped down to the fabric in your hands, watching you as you got so close your boots touched before you were pushing it against his wet chest and raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll catch a cold playing in the rain like that.” You let your tone be slightly mocking but it was lighthearted enough that he wouldn’t bother taking offense at you making fun of him for staying outside. He mumbled a thank you but didn’t stop staring down at you.

You wondered if he was slightly flattered by you doing such a domestic act for him or if he didn’t care at all, deciding on the former so you could let yourself have atleast one small win after such a rough day. You cleared your throat before turning around and allowing him some privacy while changing. 

Picking up on him moving a few more feet away, you entire body was still flushing when you heard the telltale signs of him changing clothes. 

There was a large part of you that tried to squeeze your eyes closed and think of something totally unrelated but the smaller portion won by a landslide and you let yourself think about what he might look like without clothes on. 

You were no stranger to the sight of his arms, large and rippling with muscle everytime he drew his crossbow or swung his knife. You knew he was older and more mature than boys you had been with before the fall, most likely with hair trailing down his stomach where they had been smooth and rounder around the sections of his ribs.

Your fidgeting was extremely apparent to anybody in the room and you were unlucky enough that it was just the two of you.

In no time Daryl was mumbling that you were good to turn around and moving to start a small enough fire that it wouldn’t reach the high ceiling and could be ventilated through the broken windows. You ignored the sight of his messy and damp hair falling into his eyes and especially forgot about how much your chest heaved at the way he looked in the clothes you’d picked for him.

It wasn’t much different from what he would usually wear, you had made sure of that so he wouldn’t reject your gesture but you simply found it notable that it was something you had picked for him. 

A few more hours were passing of you sitting in silence and listening to the rain outside for any sign of it stopping, grateful when he finally sighed and pulled out the little food you had packed, seemingly accepting your fate of staying overnight. 

The sun had long set by the time he was clearing his throat like he was going to finally say something and your eyes met his across the fire, holding the gaze tightly so he didn’t change his mind.

“Sorry about before.” He shocked you even more with the words coming from his mouth and your eyebrows raised, your arms wrapped around your knees where you’d been resting your head before he spoke. 

You weren’t sure what exactly he was trying to apologize for, the list of possible offenses longer than you think he even realized. You imagined it was between trying to make you abandon the run and you bringing up what he had said about the way you dressed, maybe a mix of both so he could kill two awkward birds with one big hesitant stone like apology. 

“It’s all good.” You were shrugging and you wondered if he at all cared that you had lost your usual friendly tone in favor of mimicking his cold and emotionless one. “Kinda my fault anyways, always trying to get your attention.”

You don’t know why you said it and you were even more confused why you didn’t immediately want to take it back. Maybe saying it out loud could make you feel better but you imagined you’d be wishing you saved it for a kinder audience like Maggie and Beth whenever he responded to you. 

Braving a look in his direction, you softly laughed seeing the confusion on his face. He almost looked a bit hurt and guarded like he thought you might be making fun of him which you didn’t fully understand why he would go to that conclusion.

“You don’t have to pretend you didn’t notice Daryl.” You were smiling softly now and although you were mostly baiting him, the pink on your cheeks was still very much real.

Truthfully, you hadn’t assumed that he had caught onto your crush on him because you barely had until now and Daryl didn’t seem to be the type of man that went around guessing when people liked him. 

Infact he seemed the most thrown off guard you’d ever seen him when he realized what you were trying to say and the red on his cheeks was almost enough to rival yours. You coughed just to fill the silence when you accepted he wasn’t planning to respond to you and you tried to ignore the deafening sounds of his shifting in place. 

The two of you stayed silent until the fire started to die out and by then you were laying on your back, staring up on the ceiling and bringing you could feel to rain falling down on you. It was heavy by now and you figured the storm was directly above you at this point, almost thankful for the thunder and lightning as it masked the sounds of Daryl’s light breathing.

He was laying down too and despite him being on the other side of the fire, it still managed to feel strangely intimate. 

It was likely that he was closer lying in the cell next to yours on the nights he decided it was better than the perch but now there was no stone wall between you and you could see the outline of his face whenever you turned your head to see if he had fallen asleep yet. 

The darkness was making it hard to see from that distance but the light of the fire was just visible enough for you to catch the fact he was glancing over at you too and you quickly looked away. You were firm in your stare at the ceiling now and you hoped the feeling of his eyes on you still was just your imagination. 

“I like the pink.” His voice was breaking through the silence but not loud enough to be completely jarring, low and whispered like he didn’t want to disturb you with the confession. Maybe he didn’t want you to hear him at all. “Meant it, it suits you.”

“You don’t think I look ridiculous?” You were teasing him now and it was obvious, your voice light and gentle again. 

“Nah, never did. Just an asshole.” His flat voice made you snort a laugh and you could have sworn you heard him chuckling in return. You stayed quiet for a bit longer and tried to find a way to not place meaning behind what he was telling you. 

It could be as simple as him not wanting any bad blood between the two of you considering you had to live together for most likely the rest of your lives, regardless if that was days or years. Or maybe he had felt bad about hurting your feelings because Daryl certainly wasn’t cruel for no reason and you knew he had a better heart than most, even if it took seeing you reduced to tears to finally apologize.

“I almost died today.” Your voice was still soft but for different reasons now and you turned to look at him again, wincing when you noticed he’d gone rigid. He was resting his head on one of his arms and the other was palm down on his stomach, moving lightly with every breath he took. “After all this time I think I forgot that I could. Maybe it’s good to get a reminder.”

He didn’t say anything for a while again and you almost wanted to sigh even though you just knew it was in his nature to not speak much. You actually liked that about him on any other day, he was easy to read when he wanted to be and he wore his emotions on his sleeve if you paid enough attention which apparently you did. 

“Not gonna let that happen.” Sometimes he said things that made you wish he wouldn’t speak because you werent sure how you were supposed to take him saying something like that. You had practically spelled out the fact you liked him a few hours ago and now he was declaring to personally keep you alive. 

“You cant know that.” You had decided to sit up before you finished speaking, wanting to feel more in control of the conversation even if it meant being able to see him more clearly now that you could easily see him over the fire. 

“Be alot easier if you stayed at the damn prison.” He sounded annoyed again but you could tell it wasn’t actually directed at you in a meaningful way. 

“Is that why you keep telling Rick I shouldn’t go on runs?” You hadnt even realized you came to that conclusion until you were asking it and you suddenly felt very stupid for thinking that he had been doubting your survival skills all this time. Although it wasnt solely your fault because you wouldve agreed alot easier to stay back if you knew he was simply worried about you. “Why didnt you tell me that?”

He scoffed like your question was ridiculous and now it was your turn to be annoyed with him. You were standing from your spot on the floor and moving over to him, sitting beside where he was still laying flat. This was probably the closest youd ever been to him intentionally not to mention this most likely being your longest conversation to date but he was finally giving you some answers now. 

“Wouldn’t matter anyways now would it. Too damn stubborn.” He sounded completely bored by your conversation and your mouth dropped at him vaguely confirming that he had been trying to keep you back to protect you. 

“I thought you hated me.” You practically squeaked it out and suddenly he seemed alot more alert, turning his head to look at you fully and clearly trying not to pay attention to how close you were sitting. 

You were on your knees next to him and your hands slapped down onto your thighs dramatically with an almost manic laugh as your entire point of view shifted. 

“Why would I hate you?” He asked it like the thought genuinely hadnt crossed his mind and you could have screamed in frustration. 

“Then why-” You thought of all of his heated glances and the way he avoided touch from you specifically, teasing remarks about the smallest details of how you dressed and now the added fact that he hadn’t wanted you to face the dangers of going on runs especially ones he wasn’t going on. “Oh my god, you have a crush on me.”

You should have felt ridiculous for the way you were practically gleaming with realization as you pointed at him like you had cracked open a decade long cold case. He raised an eyebrow at you and your theatrics before he was scoffing and looking back up at the roof like the conversation wasn’t making his heart race. 

“Ain’t got a crush.” He felt almost shy saying the word and thankfully you were close enough to see the way his flush had returned tenfold and the fidgeting of his hands against the vest he’d thrown back over the shirt you picked for him.

“But you like me?” You were overdoing it now but you felt almost drunk with giddiness now that you knew he hadn’t been icing you out all along. Daryl was simply just shy and clearly terrible at showcasing when he had feelings for somebody but you almost couldn’t blame him considering you’d nearly died seconds after realizing it for yourself. “You think I’m totally cute.”

Now you were really pushing it and he brought his gaze back to you just to make sure you could see the exasperation in his expression although now you were so high on the accidental confession you were tricking yourself into thinking he looked fondly amused.

“I’ve spent all this time thinking you hated me, why didn’t you just-” You were just starting to question his lack of forwardness but you silently answered it for yourself before you even finished. “Oh.”

You’d somehow manage to forget that there was easily twenty years between you and Daryl, if not more than that (you didn’t think now was a good time to ask him exactly how old he was). He looked almost sheepish now that you seemed to recall this obvious fact and you could tell he had thought about it alot more than you had.

A quietness took over the room again and you halfway noted that it sounded like the rain had finally started to slow to a stop. You were shifting in place and adjusting yourself in a way that you could more comfortably lean forward to practically force him to look at you.

“I don’t think it matters.” You were whispering now like somebody was going to overhear you and now his glare actually had some real heat behind it.

“Like hell it don’t.” He sounded frustrated that you were even talking about it let alone attempting to pretend it wasn’t an issue.

Now you were truly curious how long he had been thinking about this and it suddenly made alot more sense to you why he constantly seemed to be avoiding you. Not out of anger towards you but possibly towards the fact there was no world in which he could be with you in that way.

“I wouldn’t tell anybody.” You immediately regretting saying it as soon as you saw the way he froze up, the words being whispered into the air painting a much different tone than you had originally intended. 

It made it sound like it was some dirty secret you would need to keep due to how wrong it was but you had meant it genuinely, wanting him to know you’d be okay with taking your time letting the others know until it was something even worth noting. 

Now you truly felt like you’d gone crazy because what were you even talking about here? Did he have real feelings for you or was it just basic lust for a younger girl wandering around in pink tanktops, did it even matter regardless considering how disgusted he seemed now?

He was sitting up with a grunt and rising to his feet, giving you one last glare before he was storming outside with a mumble about needing a smoke. You stayed there on the floor staring at where his body had just been and a wave of shame washed over you.

You tried to calm yourself by thinking that you could fix it once he came back inside and relaxed a little, giving you a second to explain what you meant and what you had been thinking. You didn’t want him to see you as some stupid little girl that couldn’t keep her mouth shut. 

Daryl took this plan and crushed it considering he didn’t ever come back in and you laid there staring at the body of the walker who had almost killed you earlier, watching it until you managed to fade off into a nearly restless sleep while he sat outside and counted down the minutes until you could leave.

----

The next morning couldn’t have been more awkward if you tried.

You’d practically thrown yourself outside when you had waken up and didn’t see him still, stumbling onto the dirt with your eyes wide with panic. You looked towards the bush where his bike had been and felt your throat tighten at the realization he had actually left you there.

Then you heard shuffling behind you and whipped around to see him watching you from the treeline, half concerned and half blank like he couldn’t decide which side of him to show you now. 

Your half awake brain slowly remembered that he had moved his bike before the storm last night and you could tell by the line of something furry over his shoulder that he had been out hunting before you started to head home. 

You could guess by where the sun sat in the sky that he had actually let you sleep in a bit and suddenly you were itching to get back to the prison, hand to your forehead as you made your way back in silently to gather your stuff and head back out. 

You felt embarrassed that he had seen you so distressed over the thought of being left alone but you figured you were way past the point of return with the amount of humiliating things that had happened in the last 24 hours so it didn’t really matter. 

There was no overestimating how bad it felt to climb onto the back of his bike and wrap your arms around him for endless hours while also knowing he most likely wanted to be as far away from you as possible right now.

The sight of the prison would normally leave a slight distaste in your mouth but right now it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen and it only got better when you saw a familiar head of blonde hair near the gates, clearly hearing the sounds of the bike and waiting for your arrival.

You felt a rush of emotion seeing your friend and you were rushing off the bike before he even had time to steady himself, meeting her halfway in a hug and trying to ignore how weird your reaction seemed to anybody else. You had only been gone a night but it felt like an entire year had passed in that building. 

She was quick to make small talk as you headed in together and you were grateful for the distraction, glancing behind your shoulder back at him only to look away quickly when you found him already looking. 

It wasn’t until you were hidden behind the walls of your cell that you let the frown take over your expression and Beth faltered in her ramblings, watching your shoulders slump as you threw your bag carelessly in the corner. 

“Oh honey. I know that expression.” You hadn’t even realized Maggie was standing in the entryway of your cell until you heard her warm voice full of concern and pity. Beth sent her a curious glance and she sighed softly. “She’s heartbroken.”

“You told him?” Beth gasped the words loudly and both you and Maggie rushed to shush her, your hands covering her mouth while her sister moved fully into the cell like the sheet covering the doorway behind her would at all mask the sound of your gossip.

“You knew?” You were already frustrated and it was obvious in your tone, looking between the two of them with an accusatory glare that they matched with confusion. “You both knew this entire time?”

“You didn’t?” Maggie seemed genuinely perplexed by what you were saying and you suddenly were hit with how crazy you must have sounded.

You had spend the better part of the last few months ranting to them about every little interaction with the man and it was apparently clear to everybody but yourself and Daryl that you had feelings for him. 

There was a brief silence before you were delving into what had happened and doing your best to not leave out any details so you could get their opinions and advice on where to go from here. Beth cringed when you got to the part about not telling anybody and Maggie rolled her eyes when you mentioned Daryl had slept outside to avoid having to talk to you again.

“Is it really that bad?” Beth seemed almost bashful to ask the question and you both knew what she was talking about. 

You weren’t really sure how to answer her because although young, you were still very much an adult and capable of making your own decisions but you also wouldn’t be able to fully blame somebody who found you and Daryl together to be distasteful. Beth was still a few years younger than you and you had a hard time picturing her with anybody that age when she was closer to you and Maggie’s maturity.

“You’re a grown woman Y/N.” Maggie seemed to have come to a similar conclusion as you had or maybe she just wanted to encourage her friend towards something she knew would make her happy. “Least he could do is talk to you.”

That seemed to light a new found fire in you and after a few more words of encouragement you were storming off to go and find Daryl.

It took a fair bit of time to track him down but eventually you were led back to the maintenance room in the newly cleared portion of the prison, heart beating faster as you walked through the dimly lit hallways. You felt relieved when you could hear his voice coming from one of the rooms but then annoyance surge through you again.

“I’m a grown ass woman.” You were sure you looked ridiculous as you pushed through the door and looked at him angrily, pointing a finger in his direction and feeling slightly smug when you saw how caught off guard he looked for once. 

Then his eyes were trailing behind you and for a second you were reminded of the way he had looked before the walker attacked, spinning around just to see Rick and Glenn staring at you like you had grown two heads. Theyd never seen you so amped up before and the latter looked like he almost wanted to laugh. 

You were sure Maggie had filled him in to some extent about your situation with Daryl and your neck felt hot with embarrassment, something that was happening far too often for your liking.

“Sorry.” You felt sheepish as you glanced at Rick who looked half disapproving and half amused. “Can I talk to Daryl?”

Now he had something else passing over his face but you weren’t really sure what to make of it, even more confused when they locked eyes over your shoulder before Rick was raising an eyebrow and giving a slow nod. He barely looked at you as they left and you couldn’t tell if that made you feel better or worse. 

You were turning back towards the source of your anger but now all of your fight had been lost and all you could do was sigh as you looked at him.

“Can you atleast talk to me?” You found yourself simply repeating exactly what Maggie had told you and you felt prematurely defeated when you saw the closed off look in his eye.

“Ain’t nothing to talk about.” He was quick to dismiss you completely and you were thankful you were standing between him and the door because it looked like he was seconds from running away just to avoid you again. 

“There is Daryl and you know there is.” You didn’t care that you sounded desperate as you called his name and his eyes bore harder into yours when he heard it falling from your lips, only watching you as you took a few steps closer to him. “What’s so wrong about you liking me?”

He wasn’t going to say it, place a name to exactly what the problem would be because he knew you were already aware. You could tell he was growing frustrated that you kept pushing him about it especially when he clearly had done a good job at ignoring it although that included making you feel like shit.

“Liking eachother.” You changed your wording around to make sure you included yourself this time, wanting to remind him the feeling was mutual. 

You weren’t sure if it had the affect you wanted but you were taking a few more hesitant steps forward like you were approaching a wild animal, stopping when you were close enough to be able to put your hand on his chest.

It was the first time you were touching him like that without needing a real reason to and he seemed more affected than you’d seen him be yet, breath noticeably shorting as his eyes started to frantically dart around your face.

You wished so desperately you were able to read his mind and question what it was that was holding him back so much, especially when you were out of sight from everybody else and the judgement they possibly could cast onto you.

 

Apparently you weren’t subtle and the look Rick had given him earlier almost seemed like he had been as aware of your situation as Maggie was and there was no public outcry, no pulling you away and scolding you for having your hand on his chest and your eyes moving from his lips to his eyes. 

For a second it felt like the volume had been turned off in the room until he was finally moving his gaze down too and suddenly it all came rushing back, able to hear your own heartbeat mixing with his and the pace of his breathing slowing down. 

It wasn’t until he kissed you that the sound died out again, filled in by the rush in your heart and raindrops in the distance.