#it’s one of those ‘no matter what you do this scene will keep replaying in your head over and over again until you do something about it’

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 21 - 'Suffocated’ | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.2 k

Trent staggered into his home, the quiet darkness wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket. Every step he took was heavy, weighed down by the events of the night. His house keys clattered onto the counter, the sharp sound echoing through the stillness, but it barely registered. His head was spinning—not just from the alcohol but from the chaos, the betrayal, and the sheer weight of the situation. He ran a hand down his face, dragging it over his mouth, trying to steady his breathing. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air. Images of you in the club flashed in his mind: your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands as you tried to hold yourself together, and the look in your eyes when he barely even began to tell you those horrible, false words. He felt sick to his stomach. He walked into his bedroom, his movements jerky, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he paced, his thoughts racing. The memory of Josh’s smug grin haunted him, the way he’d dangled that video like a loaded gun. And Jess—how could she do this? How could she lie and hurt you, of all people? Trent stopped in the middle of the room, his breaths coming fast and shallow. The emotions he’d been holding back all night—the rage, the guilt, the heartbreak—surged forward, overwhelming him. Without thinking, he let out a guttural scream, the sound raw and primal, and drove his fist into the nearest wall. The drywall cracked under the force of his punch, a jagged hole splintering outward from the impact. The pain shot up his arm, sharp and immediate, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the ache in his chest. He stared at the broken wall, his knuckles throbbing and speckled with dust. The anger left him as quickly as it had come, replaced by a tidal wave of despair. His shoulders slumped, and he sank to the floor, his back pressed against the wall. He rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clutching his hair as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. But it was no use. The first tear slipped down his cheek, and then another, and before he knew it, he was sobbing. Trent couldn’t remember the last time he cried—it had been years, maybe even a decade. But now, alone in his empty house, the weight of everything was too much to bear. He cried for you, for the way he’d hurt you, for the lies he’d told, and for the love he’d destroyed.

His mind replayed every moment of the night in vivid detail: the way you looked at him, the way Jack had nearly torn him apart, the way Josh had so effortlessly unraveled his life. And through it all, one thought kept repeating in his head: he’d failed you.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. The words echoed in the empty room, hollow and meaningless. “I’m so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, his tears soaking into his palms. The silence of the room pressed in on him, broken only by his ragged breaths and the occasional hitch of his sobs. He was all alone. He didn’t know how long he sat there, crumpled on the floor, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Time felt meaningless. Eventually, the tears slowed, leaving him feeling empty and drained. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with red, puffy eyes. His knuckles throbbed, and his chest ached, but nothing hurt as much as the realization that he might have lost you for good. He stayed there, slumped on the floor, the broken wall beside him a physical reminder of the damage he’d done. And as the night stretched on, one thought consumed him: how could he ever go on without you. You’d been there his entire life. You were in every memory, every high, every low, you were everywhere. You saturated every moment of his and dug your heels so deep into his heart, he had barely even noticed you’d pierced straight through it. He felt like his heart was about to flatline, give out entirely without you there, leaving behind the gaping hole you’d cut that nothing, no one, and no amount of time could heal. He was bleeding out for you.  

Jack leaned back on the sofa, his hands running over his face as he tried to make sense of it all. The room was dimly lit, the silence between him and Noah broken only by their low voices.

“Jess said she didn’t hook up with him,” Jack started, his voice heavy with frustration, “but what I don’t get is why he didn’t fight back, you know, bro? Why didn’t he clear it up if that’s the case? He just left.” Jack looked for answers Noah didn’t have. Noah exhaled deeply, his gaze fixed on a point across the room. 

“Mate, can I be honest?” Noah asked haphazardly. Jack nodded looking for anyone he trusted’s input because sadly, at the minute, his usual confidants were the very culprits of the problem at hand. “Bro, something doesn’t sit right with me. I know you’re pissed and that’s valid. No one wants Y/N hurt and upset but something’s off. That’s not Trenty. He put in a proper hard shift in to get her to be his girlfriend. He made too many waves just trying to even get with Y/N in the first place. This…fuck, the whole thing… this doesn’t make sense.” Noah explained just as discombobulated but equally in search of clarity yet with a bit more hope in Trent’s character. Jack nodded again slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, reluctantly agreeing. 

“A part of me feels like he must’ve, though… you know? I feel like because so many people were upset, Jess now was just trying to cover for him. And she said she likes him.” His voice grew quieter as he recalled Jess’s confession. “There had to have been more there. There must’ve been an overlap or something. There has to be.” Jack spoke his thoughts aloud. He didn’t want to believe it but there was to big of a mess left behind for it to be nothing.  Noah turned to him, his expression incredulous. 

“She likes him?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t really believe that. That’s ridiculous. She doesn’t know him, mate. They might’ve hooked up a few times, but that’s it and it was ages ago. And to that point, he’d kick her out right after. She doesn’t even know the lad. Not really. Maybe his salary but not him as a person.” Noah looked at Jack for a moment, hoping he would be getting on his page. Jack was quiet for a moment, letting Noah’s words sink in. He was right, Jess didn’t know Trent and she definitely didn’t know him like you did. Would Trent sacrifice it all for someone he barely knew?

“You think it’s made up, then?” Jack asked, unsure of his own opinion anymore. 

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t add up. Not with Trenty. We know end of the day he’s a good lad, even when he’s a bit of a knob sometimes. But with Y/N… he’s the best lad. If he was hitting Jess, he wouldn’t have ever started things with your sister like this. And… I don’t mean to make it awkward for you but didn’t we all know they’d get together? They are end game, bro.” Noah looked at Jack pleadingly. He couldn’t believe their best mate would do this. He was making a case for Trent he wasn’t even sure was true but he’d try because he believed in him. “Mate, he’s been in love with her for years. Y/N and him are like proper in love. They say it to each other, she’s sleeping at his house, he takes care of her. Always has. It doesn’t make sense…. He loves her in a way I can hardly even understand, you know that too.” Noah sheepishly continued on knowing the very idea of this relationship had been hard for Jack to stomach, let alone its demise. Jack sighed heavily, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“I… I.. guess.” Jack muttered knowing that all the points Noah made were valid but they didn’t wash away the other things that had happened, had been said. “Yeah, but the thing is Megan…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “She said she knew about Trent and my sister. Said nothing about Jess. But if she knew about them, why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He asked openly still not completely over your relationship with Trent in its entirety, especially now that it was up in flames with no sight of being extinguished. Noah shrugged. 

“Maybe she thought it wasn’t her place. Or maybe she was trying to protect Y/N, knowing you’d lose your head about it.” Noah smirked sympathetically. Jack shook his head, staring at the floor. 

“I gotta talk to Meg. I gotta apologize. I was too harsh with her, it wasn’t right.” Jack muttered mostly to himself. He felt so guilty. She was just caught in the crossfire but that didn’t make any of it okay. 

“You should,” Noah agreed. “But what about Trenty?” He asked expectedly. Jack’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. 

“I’m not ready for that yet. Y/N’s a mess, mate. She’s broken. He fucked up regardless of what the truth is.” Noah nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole situation was more complicated than it seemed. He knew Trent, really knew him, Jack did too but he was too close. This didn’t sit right with Noah. 

“I hear ya, Jack,” Noah said, standing up. “But I need to talk to Trent. I need to hear his side properly. I’m not settling until I know the whole truth.” He explained, gently but surely. Jack looked up at Noah, his expression torn. He didn’t trust Trent right now, but a part of him wanted answers too.

 “Yeah, fine,” he muttered, standing up as well.  “But if he tries to play you, or if he’s not straight with you…” Jack threatened, not really with any venom but more so with exhaustion. He was just so frustrated at how messy things had gotten. 

“I’ll handle it,” Noah assured him. “You’ve got my word. I really don’t want to lose movie nights.” Noah smirked cheekily. It was just Noah’s backwards way of being sincere. He wanted to help. Jack nodded hoping he could assist because he didn’t want to lose movie nights either and least of all his friendship with Trent.

A day had passed, and the silence was deafening. Trent sat on the edge of his bed, his phone clutched in his hand, staring at the endless stream of unanswered messages and missed calls he’d sent to Jack. He hadn’t dared to try you—not yet. Every time he hovered over your name, his thumb froze, his mind spiraling into doubt. What could he even say? That he’d been blackmailed? That Jess had lied? Would you believe him, or would it just sound like another excuse? The thought of you, hurt and angry, twisted his stomach into knots. He scrubbed a hand down his face and hit redial on Jack’s number, fully expecting to hear the voicemail tone again. But this time, it didn’t come. A click on the other end was followed by a sharp voice.

“What do you want bro?” Jack answered, his hostility cutting through the silence like a knife. Trent’s heart raced.

“Jack. I need to see you,” he said quickly, the words spilling out before Jack could hang up. “I need to explain.” When Jack heard the words all he could think of was your face. The way you’d been sobbing for hours inconsolably. His anger wasn’t something he could push down. He was mad at Trent, no matter the circumstance. 

“What’s there to explain, mate,” Jack snapped. “You’re not coming near my fucking house or my sister. Do you understand me?” He threatened his best friend of years, now sounding like a stranger he hated. If Noah wanted to dig for unsurfaced truths he could, but to Jack the only thing that mattered was that you were hurting and nothing would fix that. 

“Then come to me,” Trent pleaded, his voice cracking. “Please, Jack. You have to hear me out.” He took a shaky breath, his desperation slipping through. “You need to understand.” Jack paused on the other end, the silence tense. 

“Understand what?” he bit out. “That you cheated on her? That you fucked her over? That you lied to all of us? Again…” His voice grew louder, each accusation hitting Trent like a blow.

“I didn’t—” Trent started, but his voice broke, and he stopped to compose himself. “It’s not what you think. Please, Jack,” he whispered, his voice thick. He sniffled audibly, and Jack froze. Was he crying? Jack sighed heavily, his anger faltering for just a moment. Something about Trent’s tone—it wasn’t defensive or self-righteous. It was broken. And that shook him. Maybe what Jess had admitted was true. That this whole sequence of events wasn’t entirely clear cut and true. Maybe there was more to this mess than he’d thought. Maybe he should follow Noah’s lead and look beneath the surface. 

“Where?” Jack finally said, his voice gruff but less hostile. Trent exhaled in relief, his grip on the phone tightening. 

“My place, I don’t care, anywhere, mate,” he said quickly. “Whenever you can. Please.” Jack didn’t respond immediately. 

“Fine,” he said eventually. “But if I don’t like what I hear, it’s done. Yeah?” He cautioned Trent.

“Yeah,” Trent whispered, his voice small. “I got it.” Jack hung up without another word, and Trent sat there, staring at his phone, his chest tight. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was a chance. And right now, that was all he could hope for. 

It was a days time between that phone call until Jack entered the room, the air felt heavy, oppressive, as though it carried the weight of all the chaos and heartbreak from the past few days. Trent sat on the edge of the couch, his shoulders hunched, his hands nervously clasped between his knees. His eyes were fixed on the floor, unable to meet Jack’s piercing glare. Noah stood to the side, shifting awkwardly, clearly caught in the crossfire of tension, ready to be a mediator. 

“Hey…” Noah started, his voice uncertain, as if testing the waters.

“Yo…” Jack replied curtly, stepping further into the room. His gaze flicked to Trent, sharp and calculating, before landing back on Noah. He didn’t sit, his posture stiff and unyielding.

“So… erm…” Noah began again, scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought maybe I should be here because I care too, you know…. And I just had to hear Trenty’s side. I told you, it didn’t sit right with me, mate. None of it made sense.” Noah babbled a little nervously for how things were going to go. Jack’s jaw tightened, but to everyone’s surprise, he nodded. 

“I know,” he said simply, his voice low. Both Noah and Trent froze, their eyes snapping to Jack. Trent, who had been bracing for an onslaught, felt his breath catch. Jack’s answer wasn’t what he had expected. Not at all.

“What?” Trent finally managed, his voice hoarse.

“What?” Noah echoed, his confusion mirroring Trent’s. Jack sighed, dragging a hand down his face. 

“I said, I know. I know something’s off. Jess was lying. Megan’s been going on about how things don’t add up, Noah too, and honestly, I’ve been thinking about it more now too.” He explained with a deep exhale. Trent blinked, stunned. He hadn’t allowed himself to hope for this—to think Jack would give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Mate, I—” Trent tried to speak. Jack held up a hand, silencing him. 

“I didn’t come here to forgive you, alright? I came here to figure out what the hell is going on. Because if you’ve actually hurt her like this, Trent, I swear to God, I’ll make sure you never come near her again.” He threatened but Jack was tired of threats, he just wanted answers. Trent nodded quickly, his throat tight.  Noah was trying to remain impartial, he understood Jack’s anger but he was praying Trent had an answer. Too much time had gone by without one and his faith in Trent was starting to waiver.

“Trent, you’ve gotta just tell us straight… What happened, bro? Did you…” Noah awkwardly pished for some truth, some clarity to lower the temperature of the room that was rapidly rising.  

“I swear on my fucking life. I didn’t do what I said that night. I… I… I love her. I did it for her you have to fucking believe me.” Trent whimpered. He looked like a sad puppy. Jack and Noah had never seen him so weak. There wasn’t an ounce of the confidence that was usually oozing from his pores. He looked broken. 

“So…” Noah probed confused but desperate for Trent to have an answer for it all.  

“I didn’t, do it. I swear. None of it—none of what was said—is true. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse, but it’s all so fucked up.” His voice cracked, and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to compose himself.

“Alright, then try to explain,” Jack said, crossing his arms. “Because as far as I know, it sounds as if Jess and you have been fucking and since it came out, now you and her are trying to protect yourselves saying you weren’t screwing my little sister over this whole time.” Jack laid out what he knew to true in black and white. Trent inhaled shakily, his hands trembling as he finally looked up at Jack. 

“Mate….” Trent sighed, preparing himself to admit it all to Jack, ready to colorize the lie that got him to this place. “It… it was Josh.” He mumbled.

“Josh? Fuck off. Bro, serious. I’m trying to help you here and it’s just looking like you've been playing with Y/N’s heart.” Noah quipped desperately looking for clarity Trent was continually skirting around. 

“What the fuck does that piece of shit have to do with this? Nah, serious, what the fuck is going on.” Jack threw his head. Not at Trent but at the fact that Josh seemed to lace himself intricately into their lives way too often as of late. 

“I haven’t hooked up with Jess since, swear.” Trent jumped to the chase. “But Josh…” He sighed. “He has a video…” Trent sheepishly admitted. 

“A what?” Noah asked incredulously. Jack tensed. You and Trent together was one thing, but you and Trent together intimately was another.

“A video of us, bro. I don’t know how he got it. He showed me at the club and said he’d send it out if I didn’t tell Y/N I’d been messing about with Jess still, that I needed to leave alone that night or… god fuck!” Trent shouted angrily at the situation he found himself in. “You have to understand, he said he’d release it… I couldn’t let that happen. He was fucked up. He would’ve done it.” Trent muttered. “I couldn’t let him hurt her anymore.” Trent whimpered.

“Fuck… “ Noah seethed. 

“So you haven’t hooked up with Jess?” Jack pressed. 

“No. On my life.” Trent confirmed. “He has this video though of me and Y/N. He said he’d send it to The Sun… I don’t know, literally anywhere, her work, my work, your dad all just to embarrass her, hurt her, tank my reputation using her, ruin her anyway if I didn’t play along. He just wanted to hurt her. He wanted everyone to see her on her knees, bro… It’s … I don’t know how else to explain it, mate but I couldn’t let that happen to her. I couldn’t do that. He was fucked up. He would’ve done it, I could see it behind his eyes. I swear, I honestly didn’t even care about myself, I just cared about protecting her. That’s why I lied. For her. That’s why I said I was with Jess.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was just doing what Josh said so he wouldn’t hurt her, so the video wouldn’t get out.” Trent took a deep breath after his long soliloquy. Jack’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of Trent’s confession sinking in. Noah leaned back in his seat in shock.

“Josh?” Jack repeated, his voice sharp. “You’re saying this is all because of him?” He questioned Trent, his eyes narrowing as if he could gauge the story somehow clearer. 

“Yeah, bro,” Trent said firmly. “He was trying to fuck with her and take me out in the process, Jack. You know what he’s like!” Trent yelped desperately. 

“Jack, the lad’s fucking crazy, he stormed into that party trying to start shit too, he wants to embarrass her. He’s trying to hurt Y/N. That sounds exactly like what he was looking to do that night.” Noah added cautiously. He didn’t want to pile on but he felt maybe it would help Trent’s case and maybe it would help them all remain friends. 

“Crazy is an understatement. He doesn’t fucking care. He just wants to hurt her and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I figured taking the fall would be better. I’d rather her hate me than him think he had control of her. You have to understand, he had the fucking email ready to fire off. He was going to do it, unless I lied, unless I left alone that night. I didn’t have another choice.” Trent babbled frantically, desperate for Jack to understand. Jack’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger simmering just below the surface. 

“That fucking prick,” he muttered. He paced the room for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you just tell her, Trent? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked with venom.

“He told me I couldn’t! I couldn’t risk it. He was drunk… what if he sent it right then!” Trent yelped. “I was trying to protect her,” Trent admitted, his voice dropping barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want her to get hurt more than she already had been. But I fucked it up. I know that. I just couldn’t risk it. I just—I didn’t know what else to do. It was better for her to hate me than to let that kid hurt her any more.” Trent whimpered. But as he said his words aloud he realized that maybe it didn’t make enough sense. Jack stopped pacing, his expression hard but less hostile. He studied Trent for a long moment, weighing his words. 

“If you’re lying to us right now, Trent,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, “I swear, I’ll never forgive you. I’d never  let you near her again. But if you’re telling the truth… we need to fix this. For her.” Jack���s eyes flicked towards Trent and then to Noah looking for some confirmation. 

“I’m telling the truth,” Trent said, his voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill. “I just want to make this right. I don’t want him to hurt her anymore. She’s endured enough. His fucking hands on her, his words, I can see her wince anytime anyone comes near her….” Trent voice shook. And finally… a tear tipped over. Trent was stood in front of his best friends crying. Jack and Noah were stunned. Never had they seen Trent cry. “It’s like she’s prepared for everyone to treat her like she’s already on her knees, to be thrown about and I couldn’t let him hold that over her, I couldn’t. He was going to exploit her, use her. I just couldn't stomach it. It’s breaking my own heart letting her hate me but I do it a million times over before I let him break her spirit once more. I couldn’t-“ Trent’s words were desperate with short gasps trying to catch his breath. He was completely distraught.

“T… mate. Just take breathe for a minute.”Jack spoke, cutting him off. The lump in his throat stifled his words. “Thank you.” Jack admitted and he meant it. The realization that the effects of Josh’s abuse was extending far past the expiration date of your relationship with him hurt Jack. He had to believe Trent. The strain in his voice, the desperation in his eyes, he could see it all written clear as day. 

“We’re gonna sort that fucking son of bitch out.” Noah chirped adamantly about creating a plan to put Josh in his place. Jack nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“Alright, then we figure this out. We need to sort this for her… and you know for you two.” Jack admitted through gritted teeth realizing that he was about to do anything to protect not just his little sister but he was about to do anything to protect his little sister’s relationship with his best friend. 

“Just for her, mate. I need to make sure she’s okay. He can’t do this.” Trent answered, his voice breaking.

“I deserved this,” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out. Your voice cracked as if the weight of the pain you were carrying would physically tear you apart. Layla didn’t hesitate. She crawled toward you on the bed, her movements slow and careful, but her arms wrapped around you with urgency, pulling you into her warmth as if she could shield you from everything hurting you.

“You didn’t,” she said firmly, her voice a quiet strength that demanded to be believed. “None of it. Not Trent, not Josh, not Jack and your dad, not your mum. None of this is fair, babe. None of it. But I’m here. I’m always here. You’re going to get through this.” She pressed her forehead against yours gently, grounding you when you felt like your entire world was falling apart. Your skin felt icy, a chill that seeped into your bones and made you feel like you weren’t even in your own body anymore. The detachment scared you, but you couldn’t find the words to explain it. You just stared at the ceiling, tears slipping silently from the corners of your eyes and onto the pillow beneath you.

“I just…” you started, voice trembling, barely audible. “I thought he wanted me.” The words fell from your lips like a confession, raw and bleeding. Your throat tightened as the tears came harder, blurring your vision and making it almost impossible to breathe. “Like someone actually wanted me— He was always so nice to me and I was stupid enough to believe him.” Your voice broke completely as the sobs overtook you, violent and gut-wrenching. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to smother the sound, but it was useless. The pain was too much. It was too big to hide. Layla pulled you closer, cradling you against her chest like a child. 

“Oh, babe,” she murmured, her voice filled with grief and love, trembling as much as your own. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of it. You deserve to be loved.” Her hand ran soothingly down your back, but even she was struggling to keep it together. “Not like this. Not in pieces. You deserve to be someone’s whole world.” Her voice cracked at the end, and you could feel her tears against your temple as she tried to hold it together for you. “Please… we’ll come out of this. I promise.” Her words felt so far away, too soft to reach you through the thick fog of anguish you were drowning in. All you could think about was Trent—his smile, his touch, his promises. He had felt like salvation, like the answer to years of brokenness, but now all he felt like was another lie. Another person who had used you and left you worse off than ever before. Every corner of your life felt tainted by him. You could still see him everywhere: you sat in the stands on weekends watching him with the rest of the world and yet somehow he still felt like he was just yours, his hand warm and protective on your waist in crowded clubs, the way he’d rest his head on your lap during lazy movie nights. His laughter, his whispers, his love—if it ever was love—were ghosts haunting every inch of your space. You couldn’t breathe without feeling him, without hurting.

“I can’t get away from him,” you admitted, your voice a shattered whisper. You buried your face in Layla’s chest, as if that might somehow shield you from your own thoughts. “It’s like… he’s everywhere. Everywhere I go, I see him. I feel him.” Your tears soaked through her shirt, but she didn’t care. She held you tighter, her hands never stopping their soothing motions down your back. You couldn’t even go anywhere in your own home, his imprint was ubiquitous; he’d sat in every chair, he’d held every glass, he’d opened every door. Now you found yourself feeling more battered and bruised than anytime Josh had ever touched you. You were starting to feel like maybe emotional hurt was worse than anything physical.

“It’ll take time,” Layla said gently, though her voice shook. “But you’ll get there. I promise. One day, he won’t hurt this much. He won’t have this hold on you. None of them will” You shook your head against her, the pain too fresh for you to believe her. 

“He hurts more than Josh ever did,” you admitted, the words coming out unbidden, your voice raw and bitter. “At least with him, I could see the scars. I could feel the bruises. His hands on me. But this—” You clenched your fists against Layla’s shirt, your body trembling with a fresh wave of sobs. “This is worse. He didn’t just break my heart. He broke me.” Layla froze for a moment, your confession hitting her like a punch to the gut. She felt at fault, guilty that she didn’t see it all. What Josh had done, what Trent apparently had done. She hadn’t known you felt like this, hadn’t realized how deep the wounds Trent could leave behind went. “I never want to see him again but he’s plastered around the entire country. I don’t know how to escape someone I so desperately wanted to see for years. He was the only person I looked at for years. I had complete tunnel vision, focused on him. I just wanted him to look only at me and I wasn’t enough. He looked elsewhere but he’s still all I see… and it hurts.” Slowly, Layla pulled back, cupping your tear-streaked face in her hands, her own eyes swimming with tears. 

“Listen to me,” she said fiercely, her voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You didn’t let him do this. You trusted him because you’re a good person. Because you have a good heart, and you believed he had one too. That’s not on you, babe. That’s on him.” Her words were like a lifeline, pulling you up just enough to take a shaky breath. But the emptiness inside you remained, a hollow ache that seemed too vast to ever be filled. 

“I just want it to stop,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “The pain, the memories… I just want it all to stop.” Layla’s tears spilled over then, but she didn’t let go of you. 

“It will,” she promised, her voice cracking. “I swear it will. And until it does, I’ll be here. Every step of the way, I’ll be here.” Her arms tightened around you again, holding you as if she could keep the pieces of you together by sheer will. And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into her, the faintest flicker of hope breaking through the suffocating darkness.

When Jack stepped into your room, his stomach twisted in a way he hadn’t felt in years. You didn’t just look sad—you looked like you’d been hollowed out, a shell of the person you used to be. His chest tightened as he took it all in: the dim light from your computer screen illuminating your face, your body wrapped in a blanket like it was the only thing holding you together, the empty water glass on your nightstand and the untouched bowl of snacks Layla must’ve left earlier. You weren’t just grieving—you were unraveling. Jack didn’t knock. He couldn’t. The sight of you like this obliterated every barrier between the two of you. He pushed the door open fully, the creak of the hinges announcing his presence as he stepped inside. The room was suffocatingly dark, the blinds shut tight, sealing you in a cocoon of silence and despair. Without saying a word, Jack walked to the window and yanked the blinds open. The sudden flood of light made you flinch, and you burrowed further under the blanket, shooting him a weak glare.

“Need to get up,” Jack said, his voice gentle but firm. He didn’t move closer right away, instead giving you space to process his words. You blinked at him, your voice hoarse and barely audible. 

“Why?” It wasn’t a challenge, just a broken question. Why get up? Why move? Why try? Jack took a hesitant step closer, his movements slow, like he was afraid you might crumble under the weight of his presence. He sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach you but not close enough to overwhelm you. For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read the pain etched into every line. 

“Just for me,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw. “Please, Y/N. Just put on some sweats. Wash your face. You don’t have to do anything else. Just… do that for me.” He pleaded. You stared at him for a long moment, your lips trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. The lump in your throat was so thick you could barely breathe. Finally, you gave a small nod, sniffing back the sob that threatened to escape. Slowly, like moving through quicksand, you pushed the blanket off and swung your legs over the side of the bed. Jack didn’t say a word as you stood up, your body heavy and sluggish. He just watched, his heart breaking at how much effort it seemed to take you to even move. You trudged toward the en suite bathroom, the soft shuffle of your feet on the carpet the only sound in the room. Once inside, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you caught your breath. The light from the bathroom mirror was harsh, and when you finally looked up at your reflection, you almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. Your eyes were swollen and red, your cheeks blotchy, your hair a mess. You looked like you’d been drained of every ounce of life and energy. Turning the faucet on, you let the cold water run for a moment before splashing it onto your face. The shock of it sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you back into your body for a brief moment. You reached for a towel, patting your face dry as you tried to steady your breathing. The faint murmur of the trash tv you were watching in your room filtered through the door, a reminder that Jack was still there, waiting for you. He hadn’t left.

With shaking hands, you pulled on an oversized hoodie and a pair of joggers from the pile of clothes on the bathroom counter. It was from laundry you should’ve done but menial tasks fell to the wayside, lost on you days ago. The clothes weren’t much, but they felt like armor against the weight of the world pressing down on you. You heard Jack pause the show in the other room leaving the en-suite eerily quiet, the faint hum of the light above doing nothing to break the stillness. You stood still barefoot on the cold tiles, the chill biting at your skin, yet it wasn’t enough to ground you. It felt like you were floating, disconnected from your own body, staring at a reflection in the mirror you barely recognized. The girl staring back looked broken—eyes rimmed red, lips trembling, cheeks stained with tears.

Your gaze shifted downward slightly, catching a glint of gold and blue in the mirror. The earrings. The ones Trent had given you when he sincerely and thoughtfully asked you to be his girlfriend. You had worn them every day since, a tangible reminder of the joy, the love, and the hope that had bloomed in that moment. Now, they felt different. A lump formed in your throat as you stared at them—the delicate gold butterfly in one ear and the striking blue butterfly in the other. They had been a symbol of the start of something beautiful, of a relationship you had longed for. But now, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you had barely even gotten the chance to hold onto. You didn’t even know how long he was even your boyfriend for, that’s how short it all felt and yet the hurt made it all feel incredibly long.

The tears came back quickly, racing down your cheeks before you could stop them. You sniffled, clutching the edge of the sink to steady yourself as your chest heaved with quiet sobs. It wasn’t just the loss of Trent that weighed on you. It was the idea that you had finally allowed yourself to believe in something good, something real, only for it to be ripped away before it had the chance to truly take root. Your fingers hesitated as they reached up, brushing against the earrings. For a moment, you considered taking them out, desperate to erase the pain, the memories, the pieces of him that lingered. But as your trembling hand hovered there, you froze. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t let go of him—not entirely. Even if your relationship was over, your love for him wasn’t. It clung to you, stubborn and unyielding, refusing to fade no matter how much it hurt. Maybe these butterflies, pinned delicately to your earlobes, could still be a source of hope. Maybe they could remind you of what had been, but also of what could still be. You let out a shaky breath, wiping at your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. The weight in your chest didn’t disappear, but as you looked at your reflection again, you realized something. These earrings weren’t just about Trent. They were about you, too. About the courage it had taken to open your heart and the strength you’d need to keep it from breaking completely. The Trent that gave you these was gone. The Trent that looked after you for years disappeared but the girl you thought he loved was still there staring back at you, you couldn’t change that. You couldn’t escape her. Maybe, the butterflies—fragile as they were—could carry you through.

When you stepped back into the room, Jack was standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the street below. He turned toward you as he heard the bathroom door open, his eyes scanning you carefully. You tugged at the hem of your hoodie self-consciously, feeling exposed even though you were fully covered. Jack’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he gave a small nod of approval, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Thanks,” he said softly, moving back to sit on the bed. He patted the spot beside him, and after a moment’s hesitation, you shuffled over and sat down next to him. Your body felt heavy, like it might sink into the mattress and never resurface. For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was just heavy, filled with all the things you couldn’t say yet. Jack placed a hand on your knee, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in days. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in sooner,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “I knew you were hurting… I just, I didn’t know this was how bad it was in here..” Jack cooed softly as he inspected the room. You’d been holed up for ages. “I didn’t know what to say… I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears as you stared at your hands in your lap. 

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, but even as you said it, the tears started to fall. Jack didn’t try to stop them. He didn’t tell you it was going to be okay or that you needed to pull yourself together. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug as you let yourself completely crumble. You sobbed into his chest, your whole body shaking as the dam broke.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve got you, Y/N. I’m here.” He whispered as you fell apart.

After a long while and buckets of more tears. Jack convinced you to get into the car with the enticement of starbucks. The car ride was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but still carried the weight of everything unspoken. Jack had barely said a word, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he navigated the streets. You didn’t ask where you were going—because it was clearly not in the direction of the closest Starbucks but part of you was too tired to care, and another yet part trusted him to know what you needed better than you did right now.

When the car pulled to a stop, you felt a pang of recognition before you even looked up. Heaton Park. Your chest tightened, and you let out a shaky sigh, your fingers fidgeting in your lap.  The moment you stepped out of the car, the cool air bit at your skin, but it couldn’t cut through the numbness you felt inside. You were sluggishly, the bitter wind brushing against your face and making you shiver. The familiar sight of the park stretched out before you, the stone paths winding through the greenery like veins in a leaf. The park stretched out before you, serene and empty, but it felt like the ground beneath you was unsteady.  For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of something—a memory, a connection—but it was fleeting. Jack walked a few steps ahead of you, his strides purposeful yet hesitant, silent, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. You followed, your feet dragging slightly on the gravel path.

“Are we going to go to—” you began, your voice soft and tentative. Jack didn’t let you finish. He turned and just nodded, his eyes returning to be fixed ahead. He knew what you were going to ask. Of course he did. The greenhouse.

It was a sanctuary, a place where your mum had poured so much of her love and energy. After she passed, it became something more—a place where you could feel her presence, as though she lived on in the delicate flutter of the butterflies that filled the glass room. It was a space that brought both comfort and sorrow, a bittersweet reminder of what you had lost and what you still held onto. As you walked toward it, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You weren’t sure if you were ready to step inside, to face the memories that waited for you there, you hadn’t been in a long time. But before you could take another step, Jack stopped.

“Why are you stopping?” you asked, turning to look at him with confusion. As the greenhouse came into view, its glass panes glinting faintly in the muted sunlight, your heart sank. The lush greenery inside was just visible through the tinted windows, the flickering movements of butterflies a distant echo of life you didn’t feel. You frowned confused as Jack stopped in his tracks. He turned to you, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes didn’t meet yours. He nodded back toward the greenhouse for you to really look. Your brows furrowed as you followed his gaze. There, through the glass, was Trent. He was seated on a bench, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together like he was holding on for dear life. His head was bowed, his shoulders slumped, his entire body radiating a kind of exhaustion you recognized all too well.

“Jack…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to see him. You swallowed, blinking back tears. You turned back towards the car. 

“Just talk to him,” Jack said softly, but firmly, pleadingly. He didn’t push you forward, didn’t try to guide you. He just waited. Your feet felt like they were weighed down. Finally, you took a deep breath. At the very least maybe you could sever ties entirely with Trent. You could let Trent break your heart to your face. Let him hurt you, slice you completely open and there in the green house so full of life, you could let this all die. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked finally, your voice shaking as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you. And with those words, the dam broke once more. Jack didn’t answer. He just gave a small nod, his gaze shifting toward the greenhouse again. Your heart clenched, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. He looked different—not in a physical way, but in the way he carried himself. His shoulders were hunched, his hands clasped tightly together as he stared at the ground. He looked like a man who had been hollowed out, as though the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. You turned back to Jack, your eyes wide and filled with questions. “Jack…Why—” You asked again because you wanted to know. 

“I didn’t bring you here… for him,” Jack said quickly, his voice low and steady. “I brought you here for you. But… he asked to see you. Said he’d wait as long as it took. He’s been here for hours, Y/N. He’s not leaving until you talk to him.” Jack’s voice was calm. You could sense that he was comfortable with letting you go into an enclosed room with Trent. It didn’t make sense. He hurt you. Why was Jack okay with this. You felt your throat tighten, your emotions warring inside you. Part of you wanted to turn and walk away, to leave him sitting there in the greenhouse with his guilt and his regrets. But another part of you, a part you hated to admit existed, wanted to go inside. To hear what he had to say. Jack moved gently and slowly before placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “You don’t have to do this,” he said gently. “But if you want to… Just do what you want.” Jack exhaled. “Y/N, for once, do what you want. Please.” Jack pleaded, desperate for you to be brave for yourself… not for him, not for Trent, but to either go in or get out on your own terms. 

And so then in that moment you decided, you wanted to feel it all, all the heartache, let it pull you under, hot box you in what once was. You wanted to be suffocated by the memories of your mum and memories of the Trent you’d once trusted that filled the greenhouse and be able to close the door behind you. You nodded slowly, your feet carrying you forward before your mind could catch up. The closer you got to the greenhouse, the louder your heartbeat became, pounding in your ears like a drum. Every step toward the greenhouse taking more effort than the last. The closer you got, the more details came into focus. The way Trent’s jaw clenched as he stared at the ground. The way his leg bounced nervously. The way his hands trembled, just barely, as they hung between his knees. When you reached the door, your hand hovered over the handle for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You wanted to turn back, to run away, to avoid the pain you knew was waiting for you inside, maybe you weren’t strong enough for what you decided.  But something kept you rooted there—a flicker of hope, or maybe just a need for answers. You pushed the door open, the faint creak of the hinges cutting through the stillness. The soft hum of the greenhouse filling your ears as you stepped inside. The warm, humid air hit you immediately, carrying the faint smell of flowers and earth. It was warm and fragrant, the scent of memories mingling with the faint flutter of wings. Yet simultaneously, it was almost too quiet inside, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the soft mossy floor. 

Trent didn’t look up at first, but the moment the door clicked shut behind you, his head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and the raw emotion in them hit you like a wave, his eyes meeting yours. The pain in his expression mirrored your own, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking, as he stood abruptly, his voice raw with emotion. He looked like he didn’t know whether to move closer or stay where he was, his hands twitching at his sides. You didn’t say anything at first. You just stared at him, taking in the sight of the man you loved—someone who now felt like a stranger. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, with pain and regret and longing Trent stood as you approached, his movements slow and tentative, like he was afraid of scaring you away. You stayed quiet, your arms wrapping around yourself as you stopped a few feet away from him. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until finally, Trent spoke again. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice a meek whimper, a tone you had never known. “For everything. For hurting you. For not fighting harder to protect us. I—I don’t even know where to start, but I need you to know… I never wanted this. I never wanted to lose you.” His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—they were all still there, but so was something else. Something softer, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. But first, you needed answers. And you needed to know if you could trust him again.

“But you did hurt me. You didn’t fight for me. All you’ve done….” You whimpered barely able to get the words out. Tears were already coursing down your cheeks just merely at the sight of him. “All you’ve done is break me down in ways I didn’t even know were possible.” You cried, unable to look him in the eyes. You felt naked crying in front of him. Like your sweatset had vanished entirely.  

“I know.” Ternt muttered, unable to stay quiet as guilt crashed over him. You heard Jack’s car wheels pull across the gravel leaving you with Trent. You were alone, fragile, boxed in with the boy who broke your heart in a literal glass house that felt it could shatter at any moment.

“Why did you hurt me…” You sobbed. Trent wasn’t sure he ever knew pain like this existed either watching you stand there doused in the tears he caused.  “Why did you lie to me? Why wasn’t I good enough? You told me I was… you’re the only person who's ever even taken a second look at me, taken an interest in me, really saw me and… and… it was a lie. Why did you do that? What did you gain from that? Was it for the sex? You didn’t get enough of that elsewhere? You think I didn’t ache every time I saw you with a new girl for years and finally… god! fucking finally you really looked at me. I thought you loved me! You made me you’re fucking girlfriend just to screw Jess? Why would you hurt me…” Your words were fast, rushed, emotional, with gasps and hiccups interspersed between words.  

“I didn’t touch her.” Trent looked at you earnestly. Your brow furrowed trying to deduce if he was being honest or if he had the gull to lie to your face right now. “Y/N, I swear on my life, I have not looked at another girl, let alone touched one since you kissed me. I did not kiss Jess. I did not have sex with her. The day you kissed me my fucking life got flipped upside down. You have been the only thought in my head for months and you’ve been the only girl I’ve wanted for my years.” Trent confessed, his voice was weak but it was raw and unfiltered. It was unapologetically honest and you couldn’t ignore it. “Y/N… baby, please. I’ve waited. God, I’ve fucking waited my turn… I watched you with all those fucking assholes wishing you’d let me have a chance, let me in… please don’t shut me out now.” He whimpered desperately.

“Then why… I don’t understand how this got so fucked up.” You questioned him quietly. “Why did you say those things? Why did you leave?” You asked hesitantly, not sure if you could stomach the answer. 

“Josh… He has a video.” He confessed. The moment the words left his mouth, the air seemed to shift, heavy with a revelation that landed like a weight in your chest. Your mind reeled as Trent’s confession unfolded, the pieces clicking into place in a way that made your stomach churn.

“What?” you whispered, your voice trembling. He took a step forward. He’s hands gently wrapped around your biceps.

“Josh…” Trent said again, his grip on your arms tightening ever so slightly, like he was afraid you might disappear. “He has that video. I don’t know how he got it, but he threatened me. Said if I didn’t leave you, if I didn’t do what he asked, he’d release it. He wanted to hurt you. He used me to hurt you. He has a video of us and he was using it to exploit you and me, us.  Baby, I would never do this to you unprompted. He pushed my hand, I didn’t fuck Jess, that fucking prick made me lie to you. To everyone. I just couldn't handle him thinking he had control over you anymore. It broke my heart hurting you, letting you hate me but I’d do it a million times over before I let him come near you again. I will always protect you, even if it came at the cost of losing you. I lost the love of my life that night but….” Trent tried to keep talking but the look on your face made him pause.  Your knees buckled, and Trent was quick to steady you, his hands sliding down to your elbows. But you pulled back, stepping out of his reach as you tried to process what he was saying.

“He’s been blackmailing you?” you asked, your voice breaking. Trent nodded, his eyes red-rimmed and pleading.

 “I didn’t know what to do. I thought—I had to play his fucking game, it was the only way I could protect you. I could keep him from doing something worse. I didn’t want to lose you, baby, but I couldn’t let him hurt you again. I couldn’t.” He whimpered as you stumbled backward, your hands clutching your temples as the weight of it all came crashing down. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the manipulation—it was too much.

“You should have told me,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You should have trusted me. Trusted us.” Trent stepped forward again, desperate to close the gap between you.

“You don’t understand, he was going to send it at his fucking table that night. He had a video of you on your knees, Y/N ready to send out to anyone and everyone. I didn’t want you to carry that weight. You’ve been through enough. I don’t want him near you. My only option was to handle it on my own. I was protecting you the only way I could, that night.” Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. 

“But you weren’t. Trent, you weren’t protecting me. You were letting him win. Letting him keep control.” You whimpered, explaining your very real thoughts. He dropped his head, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. 

“No. He doesn’t have control,” he said softly, yet unsure. “I know I messed up. But please, baby, I’m trying to make it right now. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. He won’t take you away from me.” You looked at him, your heart aching in a way that made it hard to breathe. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into his arms and trust that he could make it right. But the pain, the betrayal, the fear—it wasn’t something you could push aside so easily. You didn’t respond, your body too numb and your mind too overwhelmed to form words.  It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you. You couldn’t comprehend it—Josh, holding something so intimate, so vulnerable, like a weapon against you. Your tears continued fast, hot and unrelenting, blurring the lush greenery around you into an indistinguishable haze. Trent stepped closer into you, his voice trembling.  “I know it hurt, baby, but I couldn’t risk it. Not that night. Not with him. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to lie to you, to everyone. You have to believe me.” His words cracked, and you saw his own tears spill down his cheeks. You’d never seen him cry like this before, and it broke something inside of you.

“So Josh still has a video of us?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible as you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively. The nausea hit you like a tidal wave, and you staggered slightly again.

“I don’t know how he got it,” Trent said, his voice hoarse. “But he was trying to use it to get you away from me, to keep hurting you but I won’t let it happen.” The betrayal and disgust churned in your stomach, but amidst it all, there was one truth you couldn’t deny, one thing that felt louder than the rest. 

“I don’t want to be away from you,” you whimpered, your voice raw with emotion. That small admission shattered whatever invisible wall had been keeping you apart. You took a single step forward, and it felt monumental, like crossing a chasm. Trent didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as if he could shield you from everything, even the weight of the world. His embrace was warm and steady, but it also unraveled you completely. You broke down, your sobs shaking your whole body as you clung to him. It was a release you didn’t even realize you needed, all the pain, fear, and uncertainty spilling out in waves.

“I’m not going to be away from you,” Trent whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the emotion lacing it. “I’m here. Okay? I’m not leaving.” He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to reassure you of his promise. The greenhouse felt both fragile and comforting, the tension in the air gradually giving way to something softer, something hopeful. For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe. The lush oxygen in the greenhouse was no longer suffocating, it was liberating. It was quiet for a long time, only the sound of tears, ragged breaths, and broken hearts. 

“Are you still my boyfriend?” you whimpered against the soft cotton of Trent’s shirt, your voice barely audible. The words felt heavy in your throat, weighted with everything you’d been through, everything that had been said and done. Despite it all you were desperate to repair the gaping hole he’d left behind in your chest. You didn’t even know if you wanted the answer—because what if it wasn’t the one you needed? Trent froze for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. Then, with a tenderness that almost broke you, he pulled back, his large hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs gently wiped away the tears spilling down your cheeks, his dark eyes swimming with emotion. He leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath warm and steady on your skin.

“I’ve waited my entire life to be your boyfriend,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m not backing out now. Not for no one. I’ve got you.” The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything you couldn’t find the words to say. It felt like you were pressing your broken pieces into him, hoping he could hold them together. When you pulled away, your chest heaving with silent sobs, you noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye. A delicate blue butterfly flitted through the still air, its wings shimmering in the golden light streaming through the glass walls of the greenhouse. It circled once, twice, and then landed gently on Trent’s shoulder, its tiny legs gripping the fabric of his hoodie. The sight made you gasp, your tears momentarily forgotten. “That okay, pretty girl?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and almost hesitant. He didn’t move, afraid of disturbing the fragile moment unfolding between you. You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. “Supposed to be with you,” Trent continued, his voice barely above a murmur. “Take care of you. Love you. I know that.” He paused when he noticed your eyes weren’t locked on his anymore. His gaze shifted to the butterfly, his lips curving into a small, reverent smile. “And she knew that.” He cooed softly. Your heart clenched as you realized the significance of the creature perched so serenely on him. It wasn’t just a butterfly—it was a sign, a reminder of your mum, of her love, her presence, and her belief in you. Your fingers trembled as you reached out, brushing them lightly against Trent’s arm. 

“I miss her so much.” You sniffled. “I can tell she’s here though,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can feel her.” Trent nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

“I know, baby.” He whispered. You blinked, tears blurring your vision, and suddenly remembered the earrings he’d given you—the ones you’d worn so often without fully understanding their significance. They were just like the butterfly: delicate, blue, shimmering. A quiet tribute to your mum, a connection between the past and the future.

“She always knew I loved you,” you murmured, your voice gaining strength. “Even now I feel like she pushes me to remember that it’s always been you… Even when it shouldn’t work.” You whimpered. Trent shifted slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at the butterfly as it fluttered its wings. 

“It should work. I will make it work. She knew that I would take care of you, that I’m supposed to take care of you,” he said, his voice steady now. “And I will, Y/N. I promise because I love you.” The emotion in his voice shattered the last of your defenses. You stepped into him fully, burying your face in his chest as your tears soaked into his shirt. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“I love you,” you sniffled, the words muffled but clear. Trent pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering. 

“I love you more than you will ever know, more than I could ever even begin to tell you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. The butterfly finally took flight, fluttering upward toward the glass ceiling. You both watched it go, its wings catching the light as it disappeared into the rafters. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. When you turned back to Trent, he was already looking at you, his expression filled with so much love and determination that it made your knees weak. “C’mere. My perfect pretty girl,” he cooed, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. “Love you so so much.” He whispered almost to himself as his other hand pulled your head into his chest. He kissed your hair again and again. The way you smelt, the way you felt, it all felt like a dream. It didn’t make sense that this was real but as you marginally separated he opened the door to exit the green house reality came crashing back down. The light catching your cheekbone, a tear streak stain on your cheek, a painful reminder of how very real you were. How very real the hurt he had caused was. You were real and you were his and he’d do anything to keep you safe. 

“T…?” you questioned softly, your voice barely audible as your fingers curled around his hand. The two of you walked slowly along the winding paths of the park, the faint rustling of leaves and the distant laughter of children filling the quiet space between you.

“Yeah, pretty girl?” he hummed, glancing down at you, his dark eyes full of warmth despite the tension lingering between you. You hesitated, your steps faltering for a moment. 

“I’m… I’m scared of Josh. That video getting out would be so bad for you,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the path in front of you. The words felt heavy, and saying them out loud made the fear all the more real. Trent stopped walking, turning to face you. He placed his hands gently on your arms, his thumbs stroking soothingly over the fabric of your sweatshirt. 

“Y/N, baby,” he began, his voice low and steady, “I would risk my life, my career—everything—to protect you. And I’m so sorry that trying to do that ended up hurting you. I swear with my whole heart, that piece of shit will never hurt you again. He can’t even get close to my baby, alright? I gotcha.” The conviction in his voice and the fierce protectiveness in his eyes made your heart clench. You nodded, leaning into him as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you tightly into his side. The spring breeze carried the scent of his cologne, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety and comfort.

“Okay,” you murmured, though the unease still lingered in your chest. After a moment of silence, you tilted your head up to look at him. “Are we going to have to hide again?” you asked hesitantly, the thought of going back to a secret relationship filling you with dread. Trent’s grip on you tightened slightly, his arm anchoring you to him. You had so many questions you almost felt bad asking them but Trent felt worse having to answer them, it should’ve never come to this.

“No, pretty girl,” he said firmly. “I’ll protect you, alright? No more hiding. We’re doing this right. You and me.” His words brought a flicker of warmth to your chest, melting away some of the fear. 

“Okay,” you whispered again, your lips curling into a small smile. “So… I’m your girlfriend again?” you asked playfully, a hint of mischief creeping into your tone. Trent chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. 

“You’ve always been my girl,” he murmured, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your temple. Your cheeks warmed, and you let out a quiet giggle. 

“Good,” you said, squeezing his waist. “Because I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. You walked in comfortable silence for a while, the park’s serene atmosphere working its magic on your frayed nerves. The weight of the past few days still hung over you, but in his presence, it felt a little lighter, a little easier to bear. “Thank you for listening…understanding,” Trent spoke after a while, his tone soft but serious. “I know that night was hard—harder than I can even imagine on you. For me too. I just… I was trying to protect my pretty girl.” You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity etched into his face. 

“I’ve always waited. I understand,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I do.” Unable to resist the pull of his warmth, you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding onto him as if he were the only thing tethering you to the ground. He didn’t seem to mind—if anything, he held you just as tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the two of you slowly made your way out of the park. For the first time in days, you felt a small spark of hope. Maybe the two of you could get through this. But maybe, just maybe, as you felt relationship coming up, you'd also be reminded of that little video of you going down still existing on Josh's phone.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 22 xx

[dearly-somber]

I saw a post the other day that said something along the lines of “I’m a writer because I’m plagued by visions” and nothing has ever spoken to me more

[flickering-chandelier]

My Pain Fits in the Palm of Your Freezing Hand

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader are mutually pining for each other, but they don’t know it. Reader has been feeling all kinds of insecure lately, and as soon as Azirel figures out what’s wrong, he’s determined to help her see just how amazing she is.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: body insecurities, a little angst

Word Count: 2.2k  

Azriel stared at the ceiling in the dark, his wings splayed out beneath him in his gigantic bed at the House of Wind.

His shadows danced around him, seemingly trying to coax him to sleep already, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t been able to for weeks. 

There was something going on with you, he could tell. You were being more distant than usual, quieter. Not just with him, but with all of your other friends, too. 

Attempting to push the worry aside, he instead replayed scenes in his mind of you smiling at him, leaning your shoulder against his, brushing your fingers with his. 

That had been the one thing that he couldn’t stop thinking about. You had never shied away from his scars, had never even looked at them for too long or asked questions. You had always touched him with your soft skin without any hesitation or reservations, right from the beginning.

Maybe he had fallen in love with you right then, that first time your hand brushed against his. He couldn’t be sure. 

It didn’t matter, though, not really. You clearly saw him as a friend. 

That was always the way, wasn’t it?

He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, his concern flooding through him once again.He wasn’t sure you had someone to talk to, someone that you could unload your worries on. 

Of course, he wanted to be that person for you. He just wasn’t sure how to get there. 

It was remarkable really, how he could be so entirely exhausted from the day, yet his mind wouldn’t cease whispering to him about you.

At this rate, he would be lucky if he got even an hour’s worth of sleep before the sun came up. 

---

Azriel looked like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. Again.

He was still the most beautiful man alive, obviously. But those bags under his eyes couldn’t lie to you as well as the shadowsinger himself could. 

And you knew it had been a lie when you had asked him if he was okay before Rhys’s inner circle meeting and he had offered you that crooked smile and reassured you that he was. Because Az only loses sleep when something is really bothering him. 

His eyes settled on you across the table as Rhysand and Cassian bickered about some matter in the mountains. You readjusted your dress, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything to actually conceal how uncomfortable you had been feeling in your own skin these days. 

It had been a nightmare getting dressed this morning, as it had been for weeks. Nothing about you had really changed, but recently you were having a more difficult time accepting that all of your dresses prominently showed your belly, the curves, and rolls that were not in flattering places. 

Azriel’s eyes tracked the movements of your hands smoothing down your dress and you felt even more self conscious. It was a great effort to stop squirming and keep your hands at your sides, forcing your gaze on Rhysand.

Out of everyone, why did Azriel have to be the observant one who would surely notice how frumpy the dress looked on your body, especially compared to the High Lady at the head of the table? Surely it would’ve been better to have a massive crush on Cassian, who hardly looked at what anyone was wearing unless it was something revealing. 

Azriel, though. Azriel noticed everything. 

The thought was like a pit of dread in your stomach. Surely he knew how you felt about him. 

It was embarrassing, really. The two of you had become pretty good friends over the last few years, after Rhysand had recruited you into his inner circle. 

But, the more you got to know him, the stronger your feelings became, the more you withdrew. You didn’t want to bother him or annoy with your feelings, with your insecurities, your past. He had enough to deal with on his own, and he didn’t need you pestering him. 

Without you even realizing it, the meeting had drawn to a close, and everyone was standing up, milling around before going about their day. 

Suddenly Azriel appeared at your side, so close that one of his shadows tickled your arm. “How are you?” he asked, his eyes boring into yours like he could see straight into your soul. 

“Good,” you couldn’t help but smile in his presence. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, and the side of his mouth twitched up into half a smile. “Liar,” he murmured. 

“Those damn shadows,” you scoffed. 

“I didn’t need the shadows to help me out with that one,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face. 

You felt your cheeks warm at his closeness, the intensity of his gaze. You needed to change the subject. Quickly. “How are you?” 

His smile grew slightly. “Good.”

“Liar,” you grinned, arching your eyebrow. 

He snorted before leveling his gaze on you again. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

You hesitated. “It’s… a lot. And it’s also a little dumb. All at the same time.”

“Sounds like you need someone to talk to,” he said quietly. As he said it, you could have sworn that you saw his fingers flex slightly, like they wanted to reach for you. 

“You don’t have to worry about my problems,” you said halfheartedly.

“I’ll be worrying about them whether or not you tell me,” he murmured. 

The way he was looking at you, the concern dancing in his eyes… it made your knees weak. It also seemed to have made your brain short circuit because that’s really the only thing that would actually explain the response that came out of your mouth. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

You followed Azriel upstairs, to a sitting room near the bedroom that he frequented in the House of Wind. 

You weren’t sure how you could possibly form the words in a way that would make sense to him, in a way that wouldn’t make you seem crazy or foolish. 

But, he had offered, and he really seemed to care. So you would try. For him, if not for yourself. 

---

You looked nervous as you settled into the armchair across from him, your hands wringing in your lap, your gaze landing anywhere but on Azriel. 

He couldn’t imagine what plagued you so, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make you feel okay again. 

“So,” you began, then clamped your mouth shut. Your eyes finally darted up, meeting his. “I don’t know how to explain any of it.”

Azriel couldn’t stop the quiet laugh that rushed out of him. “Do you want me to go first?”

That seemed to get your attention. You leaned forward, bracing your elbows on your knees. “Yes. Why do you look like you haven’t been sleeping?”

His brow furrowed in surprise. “You noticed that?”

You nodded, somewhat bashfully, your cheeks slightly pink. “I just -- I’ve been worried about you.”

Azriel’s heart did a somersault in his chest. His mouth tugged up into a smile. “I’ve been worried about you. That’s why I haven’t been sleeping.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

His expression softened as he gazed at you. “I care about you. When there’s something upsetting you, I tend to lose sleep,” he said gently. 

“You…” you began, but trailed off. Azriel could practically see the wheels turning in your brain. “You really care about me that much?”

Azriel blew out a breath. “Cauldron, you’re really going to make me spell it out, aren’t you?” 

Your brow furrowed in confusion, but you remained silent. 

“I love you,” he murmured, surprising even himself that he finally said it. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Azriel held his breath as he waited for your response. Finally, you said, “Why?”

That was not the response he had been hoping for. “What do you mean, why?”

You made an exasperated noise, seemingly unable to look at him. “I just don’t understand. I’m awkward and annoying and I look awful in all of my clothes, and no matter what I do, I can’t fix the parts of my body that I don’t like--”

Azriel ended up right in front of you without even realizing that he had moved. He took both of your hands in his. “Hey, stop for a minute,” he said gently, though the way you were talking about yourself had his blood practically boiling. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. “You’re wrong,” he said simply, once your breathing had calmed. 

“What?” you choked out.

“You’re wrong,” he murmured, rubbing the backs of your knuckles with his scarred thumbs. “I can’t think of anybody less annoying than you. I always want to be around you. Always,” he smiled, leaning closer to you conspiratorially. “And you know what else?”

You stayed silent, your lips slightly parted. Heat rushed through his body as he leaned closer still, bringing his mouth to your ear. “You’re beautiful. Breathtaking, actually.”

That was when you took a step back, pulling your hands from his. Azriel’s heart sank. “You don’t have to do that,” you said sadly.

“You don’t believe me?” Azriel asked. He couldn’t understand it. Why couldn’t you see yourself the way that he saw you?

“I just… You don’t have to say all that to make me feel better,” you said. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but --”

“I’m not trying to be nice,” Azriel spat. 

Your eyes widened at the sudden outburst and he sighed, taking a step closer to you again. It was an effort to calm his voice, to not be frustrated with you for thinking that he could possibly make something like this up. “I’m not trying to be nice,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m telling you what I’ve been wanting to admit to you for years.”

When you remained silent, he knew he would have to prove it to you. 

He gently took your hand in his again. “Come with me?”

You hesitated for a moment, but then followed him without a word. He led you to his bedroom, where he stood behind you as you faced a large floor length mirror on the wall. 

“Oh gods, I do not want to do this,” you groaned.

“Just humor me, okay?” he said gently. 

You sighed, but squared your shoulders and looked pointedly into the mirror. Azriel couldn’t help the swell of pride that he felt at that. 

“I’m not sure what you see,” he murmured, dying to touch you, but keeping his hands to himself for the moment. “But I see a woman with the most stunning eyes,” you smiled slightly at that, your eyes crinkling around the corners. Azriel smiled, lightly curling a lock of your hair around his finger. “And the most beautiful hair. I’ve thought about running my hands through this hair about a million times.”

Azriel heard your breath hitch, and it took everything he had in him to not throw you onto the bed right then and there. Slowly, your eyes met his in the mirror. “And your smile?” His own smile grew at the thought. “Gods. I don’t even have words for your smile.”

He went on and on, his fingers lightly trailing down your sides as he revealed the truth to you, the truth of how long he had been watching you, how badly he had wanted you. 

“Don’t you see?” he finally asked quietly. “Don’t you see what I see?”

Slowly, you turned around to face him. “Thank you, Azriel. I believe you. I believe that it’s what you see. But…”

He arched an eyebrow. “But?”

“I’m too much work,” you said quietly. “I’m too much work to love. I’ve got too much baggage.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You think I don’t understand being insecure?” he says, holding his scarred hands up in front of him. “You think I don’t understand carrying the burden of the past?”

“But--”

“Do you think I’m too much work?” he asked. 

“No, of course not.”

He looked at you pointedly. “Listen to me. I love you. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. And if you’ll let me, I’ll remind you every day how beautiful, smart, kind, and incredible you are.” He settled his hands on your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re not too much. I’ll work every day for eternity for you. I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

A tear rolled down  your cheek as you looked up at him, and he gently wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. “I love you,” you choked out. 

Azriel couldn’t hold it back anymore. He kissed you softly, and you melted into him the moment his lips met yours. 

He held you close, cradling you to his chest, determined to be whatever you needed for as long as you would let him. 

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @melmo567 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @lilah-asteria @evergreenlark @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @andreperez11 @marina468

[thef1diary]

save me mafia daniel save me 😵‍💫 why does he strike me as the type to stage a meet cute with you…. like you meet him for the first time and you find him so hot and chivalrous and charming….. meanwhile this is definitely not the first time he’s seen you, having jerked off to videos of you more than once. it’s just to gather intel, obviously…. but what does it matter if he has a little fun while he’s at it?

— nonnie… I’m speechless, oh my 🥵 kindaaaa bordering on stalker behaviour but hey that’s part of his job…right? 18+ content below

The first time you met Daniel, it felt like fate—or so you thought. He “accidentally” bumped into you outside your favorite café, his large hands steadying you with an apologetic grin that could charm the devil—if he wasn’t the embodiment of the devil himself. He smelled rich, like leather and spice, his brown eyes warm as he apologized, offering to buy you a coffee to make it up to you.

What you didn’t know was that this wasn’t your first meeting.

Daniel had been watching you for weeks, tasked with knowing your every move. Your schedule was etched into his mind: where you were, when you’d be there, and what you usually did. He had every detail memorized—what time you left for yoga, the path you took to your favorite bookstore, even how you liked your coffee. That’s why he was here today, “accidentally” bumping into you at the perfect moment, his timing precise, rehearsed.

It wasn’t hard for a man like him. As the right-hand man to one of the most powerful mafia bosses, Daniel was used to tracking targets, extracting information, and executing plans with ruthless precision. But with you, it wasn’t just business. It had become personal in a way.

Photos of you filled his personal phone: candid shots of you walking down the street, laughing with friends, or lounging on your family’s estate. He’d even managed to hack into the cameras around your house, capturing intimate moments that you thought were private. Those videos—especially the ones of you sprawled across your bed, wearing nothing but a tank top and panties—had kept him up at night, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he imagined what it’d be like to have you for himself.

And now, sitting in front of you at a corner table inside the café, hearing you thank him with that soft, sweet laugh, he could barely keep his composure. You had no idea what kind of man he was, no clue that the hand brushing innocently against yours had been the same one gripping his cock while he replayed obscene videos of you in the dark.

“So, do you come here often?” he asked, his voice smooth and casual, masking the filth in his thoughts.

You smiled, twirling a strand of hair around your finger, entirely unaware of the predator in front of you. “Every Friday,” you said, and Daniel filed it away even though he already knew. He’d been watching you come here for weeks, the pattern of your visits as predictable as clockwork.

His cock throbbed as he watched you sip your drink, the faintest trace of foam lingering on your upper lip. He wanted to lean in, to lick it off himself, but he settled for imagining the taste of you instead. His thoughts grew darker, filthier—how you’d look with his cum dripping out of your pussy, your lips swollen from his kisses, your voice hoarse from screaming his name.

Daniel didn’t just want to fuck you; he wanted to own you. He wanted to see the perfect, polished princess of the rival mafia family beg for him, to have you come apart on his tongue, his cock, his fingers. And the best part? You’d never know it was all orchestrated. That every touch, every charming smile, every calculated word was part of a plan—one that had less to do with gathering information and everything to do with his obsession.

Later that night, back in the privacy of his penthouse, Daniel replayed the scene in his head as he unbuckled his belt, his cock already hard and leaking. His phone buzzed with notifications—reminders of your whereabouts for tomorrow, surveillance updates—but he ignored them, too busy imagining the way you’d taste, the way you’d look spread out for him.

He gripped his cock tightly, his strokes slow at first as he thought about your lips, your legs, the way your body would tremble if he pressed his tongue to your clit. He wondered if you were shy or and let him set the pace or if you had a filthy mouth, begging him to let you cum. He picked up speed, his breath growing ragged as he imagined you holding yourself spread for him, reduced to a shameless little thing with doe eyes and a pout on your full lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch as his hips jerked upward into his fist. His mind replayed every detail from earlier: the way your hand lingered on his arm, the sparkle in your eyes when you laughed. He came hard, spilling over his hand with a low growl, your name slipping past his lips.

Daniel leaned back, chest heaving, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. You had no idea what you’d done to him, no idea that your chance encounter was anything but.

And next Friday, he’d make sure you fell a little further under his spell.

want more mafia!daniel? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[spaghettiposts]

A Fools Love

Ghostface!Tara x Reader

Summary: You're a fool who falls in love with Tara Carpenter, a fool who's hopelessly devoted to her. No matter what.

Warnings: Dark themes, blood mention, stitching, Tara being a cold-blooded killer, attempts at writing slight horror (not really), and minor fluff.

Words: 1.4k

Your mind was unresponsive as you ran through the late streets of New York. Only having one goal in mind; Find Tara. 

Streetlights were the only light keeping you from tripping on hazardous placed trash bags—or people. It was late, later than you’d be awake. Never for Tara though, and you knew perfectly well what she was doing. 

You tried your best not to dwell on the way your stomach churned, passing it off as concern. And if your eyes watered, you’d wipe them away. Someone had to stay strong.

Wear a hoodie, be discreet.

Is what she told you. You zipped up your sweater, tossing over the hood and placing the first aid kit into your pockets. 

Gloves too. 

You climbed up the ladder from the side of the building. Darkness overlooked where you stood, nobody could possibly see you and if they did you weren’t easily identifiable.

This was fine.

Tara always kept you safe, your safety was her number one priority even before her own. Which drove you insane, but drew you further into her heart. Despite her problems, you couldn’t deny the unconditional love you had for her. Even at the expense of loving a cold blooded killer. 

So yes, Tara kept you safe. She was never one to mess around with these things, you doubted she could with how long she had been doing it. Killing sprees left and right. 

You hesitated at your words, pausing. Shaking your head firmly, you corrected your mind. No, Tara wasn’t a monster. Instead, you replayed moments from how well she had been doing these past months. How she tried, endured, and concurred that hunger inside of her. 

If she did, you wouldn’t be here.

Slip-ups happened to everyone, this just happened to be a more serious—lawbreaking—one. 

Potentially, you didn’t know the exact details of what happened that was so severe your girlfriend insisted you make an appearance. An odd request that left your heart pounding wildly, this never happened. The last message she left on your phone was one reminding you to bring a first aid kit. 

Her location is already pinned on your phone, as was yours in hers. A safety precaution. Meaning you had no trouble finding the brunette. 

You lifted your fist to knock on the window after making sure it was the right one. Immediately the curtains withdrew, allowing you to see her face. Tara sighed in relief, letting out a shaky breath. Her posture relaxed instantly, and you briefly heard the sound of a knife clattering. 

Within seconds she tugged on your wrist, pulling you inside. Before you had the opportunity to ask any questions her lips were on yours, a hand cupping your jaw. You let out a gasp in surprise at the intensity of the kiss, falling back into the familiar pattern of her lips on yours, trying your best to match her need. 

But then you realized where you were. More specifically with who you were with, Tara who’s hands weren’t the soft ones you loved to feel but instead masked behind those cold gloves she wore. Gently, you pushed at her shoulders. 

Tara furrowed her eyebrows, a glimmer of hurt flashing in her eyes. She tried to push back into you only to be met by denial. You whispered a small ‘not now’, heart clenching at the familiar black robes on her.

The smaller girl bit her lip, understanding, and wandered off. You sighed, peering outside to make sure no one could’ve seen before locking the window; pulling the curtains closed. 

It didn’t take long to locate Tara again. You found her leaning against the wall next to the room where you presumed the crime scene occurred. Another sigh left your lips as you tried to make an understanding of what you were dealing with. 

“I slit her throat before she could…feel it.” You heard her mutter. Something she’d do to reassure your feelings. Inform you. You didn’t know if it comforted you or made you feel worse. Either way, you nodded, swallowing down whatever you were feeling. 

Noticing how uncharacteristically shifty she was acting, you looked downwards. Her hands subtly turn away from you, the cloth sticking to her skin. Was that dampness? 

“Tara, what the fuck?” You seethed, grabbing her cloth-covered hand. Tara winced as you lifted the sleeve to find her poorly wrapped arm. Blood stained the gauze and you wondered if any traces of it were left. Your chest heaved as you looked around the room—towards the floorboards, towards any surface that could’ve been incriminatingly laced with your girlfriend's blood. “How—? What happened, you said you’d be careful!” 

Tara huffed, pulling her arm away to hold it, “I am careful. The bitch fought back.”

“You told me she didn’t feel it.” You raised an eyebrow, that bubble of irritation forming in the pit of your stomach. 

“It was a quick death, a microsecond is what she felt.” Tara spat, shoving her shoulder into your own as she walked into the bathroom. “Right now that isn’t the problem.” 

You wanted to scream, yell, throw something, break something. Right now that wasn’t the problem my ass–Clenching your fists and letting out a heavy breath, you followed your fleeing girlfriend. She was perched against the bathroom wall, squeezing at her wrist which drew you immediate concern. You hated how easy it was to love her. 

You could tell she was in pain–hell, you could see it. Through the bandages, you could see how deep the cut was. Undoubtedly, she’d need stitches for it. Which is why, despite the heated frustration you felt, you let it go. Sliding down the wall next to her, you crossed your legs, taking her arm in your lap. Before she could protest, you waved the box in your hands from earlier.

Opening the kit you begin your work, unwrapping the gauze and placing it in a bag. Your face scrunched as you were met with the sight. Not wanting to waste any time, you grabbed the needle, silently apologizing for what you were about to do. Tara never liked looking at her injuries, they reminded her of failure. You tried your best to understand it and knew how she felt when her head came to rest on your shoulder, nuzzling her face further into you. She didn’t want to look.

How a psychotic killer could be this adorable was almost laughable.

“Comfy?” You asked.

“Mhmm.”

But she was yours, so you didn’t laugh. Tilting your head, you pressed a kiss on her forehead, cutting the last thread. Tara mumbled what you believed was a thank you before rolling up her sleeve again. When her fingers inched closer to yours, you didn’t hesitate to intertwine them. How could something so wrong feel so right?

Another thing you would never understand. 

“I think– I think our blood might be mixed.” Tara huffed on your neck, sending shivers down your spine and worries through your mind. She squeezed your hand before you could get too lost, “There’s…two options.” You squeezed back.

“We could burn the place, or sneak her out and bury her in the woods.” She explained shakily.

You shook your head, leaning the rest of your weight back on the wall. This was crazy, this was why you stayed home. Anything could happen, multiple possibilities but all you could see when you closed your eyes was Tara being pushed in the back of a police car. Away from you, gone. Forever. And maybe you were crazy too, crazy enough to want her to stay. 

Your heart pounded against your chest as you closed your eyes, leaning back against the tiles. The sounds of sirens echoing close and far off simultaneously. Your mind raced, as the seconds of calmness that had only recently surrounded you felt all too fleeting. Anything could happen, multiple possibilities but all you could see when you closed your eyes was Tara being pushed in the back of a police car. Away from you, gone. Forever. And maybe you were crazy too, crazy enough to want her to stay. 

But your heart had made its decision, of whom it belonged. For your heart was traitorous to Tara Carpenter. Completely and sinfully loyal to her. No matter what.

And if Tara wanted to burn the apartment.

You’d hand her the match.

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 4

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: I wrote this hungover so you can just call me The Little Engine That Could

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA, blood

Word Count: 3,121

If Eris could see me right now he would surely detest my un-princess like behavior and call off our courtship promptly. In fact I might put ‘standing on a pile of books to reach the top of a bookshelf’ in my Eris repellent arsenal. 

Normally I would ask The House of Wind for assistance but I suppose that today it wanted to use me as entertainment. The large stack below me wobbled causing my stomach to flip as my fingertips brushed the edge of the leatherbound book I was just dying to read. I almost had it in my hand when my book stack teetered again causing me to gasp. 

“Woah there princess!” boomed a voice from the hall. “Get down, you're going to hurt yourself.” 

I turned my head to find Cassian clad in casual clothes, most likely about to turn in for the night. Seeing him in fighting leathers was deadly, but seeing him so domestic? It made my cheeks heat. My makeshift step stool wobbled again and I would’ve toppled over if it wasn’t for the general's hands grasping my hips and placing me on the ground. 

“Thanks,” I smile as my feet firmly hit the plush carpet. I can’t help but feel a little foolish.

“Which one did you want?” Cassian asked, scanning the shelf I was close to climbing. 

“Uh the red one, with the rose on the spine,” I reply pointing to it. 

He reached his arm up and plucked the book from the shelf with ease. Gods now I really did feel foolish. 

“Here you go,” he smiles, handing me the book. I take it from his grasp and for a moment his hand brushes mine sending shivers down my spine. In the 5 seconds I feel his skin I try to soak up all the warmth that it holds. Try to remember the sensation so I can replay it over and over again in my head when I go to bed. 

“Thank you,” I smile trying to avoid those hazel eyes.

“See now you’ve taught me to fetch too,” he jokes. 

I roll my eyes, “You’re never going to let me live that dog comment down are you?” I laugh. 

Cassian flashes me a smile that threatens to make my knees buckle before perusing the bookshelf himself. I take it as my queue to relax on the couch next to the roaring fire. Ever since that drunken night when I ran into him coming back from Rita’s I couldn’t shake the words he had said to me… I’d do anything for you y/n. I tried to forget the feeling of his hands on my hips, the warmth seeping through the silk of my nightgown. But no matter how hard I tried, the scene continued to replay in my head over and over again. 

Even now it was hard to read with him in the room. I tried to keep my eyes on the book I was reading, but even just watching him scan all the shelves was erotic. I watched as his fingers grazed over a few titles until he finally plucked one from its spot. He began to walk towards the door and before I could even think my words betray me. 

“Wait!” I call out and he stops in his tracks. I mentally curse myself. Now what’s your plan dipshit? 

“Do you need another book?” Cassian asks and I realize I’ve let him sit in silence for longer than I ought to. 

“Could you stay and read here? I know reading is typically an independent activity but…” My voice trails off and I try to decide whether or not to voice my next words. “I find it hard being alone as of late.”  

It was true. Whenever I had a moment alone my mind would wander to that interaction in the hallway… don’t marry him…and then it would wander to thoughts of Eris, that damned dream I kept having. 

“Of course I’ll stay,” he says, turning from the door. 

As long as you’ll let me, I’ll do anything for you princess…

Cassian walks over to where I sit on the couch, picks up my outstretched legs and places them on his lap so that he can sit down. His forearms rest on my shins as he flips open his book and I nearly gawk at how natural the movement is for him. 

“You don’t have to sit next to me, you know?” I laugh. “You can sit in one of the chairs over there if you want to.” I say nodding to a set of armchairs in the corner. 

“Yeah but this is the only seat close to the fire,” he replies. “Besides, those chairs aren’t very wing friendly.” 

My eyes look back to the chairs and realize that he’s right so I shrug my shoulders and turn my eyes to my book. It was hard to concentrate on reading with the feeling of my legs in his lap but as my eyes scan the page I can’t help but get lost in the story…

“So you have me alone, in your bedroom.” Sofie says. “Now what happens?” 

Alexander stalks towards her, looking her up and down. “Now I kiss you, and touch you, and make you mine in every way I possibly can.”

I feel my blood heat up and I avidly try not to let my toes curl knowing they are currently in Cassian’s lap. The scene progresses and I try not to look like I’m reading something so filthy in the presence of my general, which is near impossible. 

Cassian clears his throat and I yank my gaze up expecting to find him looking at me like a scorned parent. Instead I find him quietly reading his own book. His own very large, very heavy book. 

“That book is huge,” I point out and his gaze snaps to me. “What is it about?”

“It’s about war strategies,” he replies cooly. “I’ve read it before, but I like to brush up on it every now and then.” 

“That’s what you read in your spare time? War strategies?” I scoff. 

“Knowledge is power princess,” he smiles flipping through the pages of the abnormally large book. “I’m your general, don’t you want me reading this kind of thing?” 

“I want you to read what makes you happy, especially when it’s for pleasure.” I laugh, shaking my head.  

“Well then you’ll be glad to know that reading war books makes me happy,” he muses at me. 

I shake my head and return to my own book, getting caught up in the heat of the scene once more. 

“What are you reading princess?” Cassian chides knowingly. 

“Oh nothing,” I say, pulling the book closer to my chest in a way that definitely could’ve been more subtle.

“Really because it looked like you were riveted a few moments ago,” he smirks, leaning over to try and see the title. 

“Well it’s a good book!” I squeak, pulling the book back further so he can’t see it.

“Why are you hiding?” Cassian laughs. “Afraid I’ll judge your literary tastes?”

“Yes actually I am,” I laugh pulling the book away from his hand as he tries to pluck it from my fingers. 

“Oh c’mon princess I showed you mine now show me yours,” he teases. One of his hands clamps down on my ankle so I can’t shift away anymore while the other snatches the book from my hands. 

“Cassian!” I protest as he moves the novel to his other hand that’s hanging off the arm of the couch. 

“As he kissed her feverishly his hands ran down her bare breasts, leaving goosebumps over the skin they touched.” Cassian read from the book. “This isn’t very lady like reading material princess!” he teases me. 

In a panic I climb over his lap to try and get the book back but he pulls it even further away. 

“Alexander's fingers traveled lower to her awaiting-” Cassian laughed before I finally grabbed the book from his hands. 

“I’ll take that!” I said snapping the book closed. 

It wasn’t until the book was safely in my possession once more that I realized the compromising position I was in… I was on his lap. I was sitting on my general's lap. I quickly scooted over to the side to sit next to him once more trying to hide the blush in my cheeks. 

“Who knew you had a secret romantic side?” Cassian teases with a sly smirk. 

“Yeah yeah, you found me out! Now go back to reading your book about stabbing people!” I brush him off with a laugh.

We spend the rest of the evening reading our respective books, this time without any interruptions. At first it’s nearly impossible to read while he’s right next to me, especially given the content of said book. But after a while I fall into a comfortable silence with the general, stealing glances at him whenever I can. At some point in the night, though I can’t pinpoint when, my eyes grow heavy and I fall asleep, one of the most peaceful rests I’d had in a while.  

Cassian: 

I’d be lying if I didn’t say the content of the princess’ book didn’t both shock and intrigue me. So much so that I couldn’t help but glance her way every once in a while just to see her little hands gripping the pages like her life depended on it. 

Even though she was just sitting there reading, she was so undeniably gorgeous. No wonder her beauty had been built up to the point where she was practically a character from mythology.  I almost cursed myself for admiring her too much, clearly just becoming another wide eyed male desperately seeking the princess’ attention. I recalled how Helion practically begged Rhysand for her hand, not to mention the other lords. Gods I really was just one of many when, and even more depressing, the least worthy of her affections.

At one point I glanced over to find her fast asleep with her book resting on her chest. I thought about leaving to go to my room or carrying her to bed. But she was so peaceful. More peaceful in this moment than I had seen in the past few weeks. I would kill anyone who dared pull her from that peace, and that meant myself as well. So I set down my book and let myself sink further into the couch. 

I had never slept in the library before, but there’s a first time for everything.  

Cassian:

“You’re even slower today than you were yesterday brother,” Azriel barked, swinging his sword towards me. I blocked with my own, the sound of metal on metal reverberating throughout the air. “Let me guess, another bad night of sleep?” 

“I slept fine!” I grumble going in for the attack, he blocks me with ease. 

“Are you sure? When I saw you asleep on the couch with the princess this morning you didn’t look too comfortable.” he smirked. The words caught me so off guard I missed my block and his sword sliced the back of my shoulder. 

“Ahh,” I hissed at the cut. 

“Sorry I thought you were gonna block that,” Azriel laughs. 

“I’m fine,” I say, shrugging off the small cut. “Let’s go again.” 

“Actually let’s call it, Rhys needs me on the border to check on things with Hybern,” Az replies, putting his sword over with the others. 

I do the same and go to take off the wraps around my hands. I can’t help but notice the scars and calluses all over them from years of battle and war. Clearly hands unfit to be anywhere near the princess. 

“How does the autumn court fare?” Azriel asks, pulling me from my thoughts. 

“Still full of the most pompous asses in Prythian,” I roll my eyes. 

“Good to see things haven’t changed,” Az laughs. “Does y/n seem to be warming up to Eris?” 

My head immediately goes to that dark hallway. How she screamed for him to get off her. I’ll never unsee the fear in her eyes. 

“No, she can’t stand him. But he seems to be warming up to her just fine,” I say trying not to sound as bristled as I am. 

“Uh oh,” Azriel said, catching my tone. 

“He was going to rape her the other day, I had to intervine.” I huff tossing away what’s left of my wraps a little harsher than I normally would.

“Are you serious? Why haven’t you told Rhys?” Azriel asks, his tone changing. 

“She won’t let me, she's determined to see this thing through, for us, for her people.” I explain trying to stay calm. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see this coming,” Azriel says. “When she became this almost mythical being I knew that she would be a conquest. Especially for males like Eris. If he chooses to marry her it won’t be because he loves her. He just wants to say that he owns The Jewel.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I scoff at my brother. 

“She deserves someone who loves her for her. Someone who sees her as more than The Jewel. Someone who has a big heart. Someone who makes her laugh. Someone that teaches her how to play drinking games,” Azriel went on and I knew exactly what he was getting at. 

“Nice try Az, but it’s never going to happen,” I huff walking towards the door 

“You wouldn’t know, you haven’t asked her!” he shouts at me. 

I shake my head at my brother's persistence as I make my way inside the House of Wind. For what it’s worth, I should be flattered that he think’s the princess could ever love someone like me. But I don’t feel flattered, I feel like a joke. The kind that might be passed around by other men at taverns for years to come. 

“Have you ever heard the story of the bastard general and the beautiful princess?”

“The poor fool fell in love with her and she turned him down flat!”

Gods I could hear the crowds of drunken fools laughing at the tale right now. 

The kitchen in the House of Wind always seemed like the most alive part of the house and the part of the house I had always ventured to least. Meals always seemed to appear whenever they were required, leaving no reason to darken the kitchen's doorstep. However, while the cut on the back of my shoulder didn’t hurt, the last thing I needed was an infection. Which is how I found myself rummaging through doors and cabinets for the first aid kit.

“You’re bleeding.” said that beautiful voice cutting through the air like a siren's song. I swore then and there I’d follow it to whatever end. 

I turned to find the princess, standing in the doorway clutching that red leather book from last night. I don’t miss her eyes glancing over my half naked body and it takes everything in me not to bear a self satisfied smirk.

“It’s just a scratch from sparring with Az,” I reply, trying to look over my shoulder to see the state of the cut. 

“Here, let me help you,” she said, turning to the drawer nearest to her and pulling out the first aid kit. 

“Don’t worry I can do it,” I assure her, the idea of her dirtying her hands by touching me makes me cringe. 

“It’s on your back you won’t be able to reach it,” she answers, laying out the things from the kit. 

“Princess you really don’t have-” 

“Shh, think of it as me repaying you for fetching that book for me last night,” she says with a playful glint in her eye. 

I smile remembering everything from me teasing her about the dog comment to the sight of her reading that dirty book. I turn around so she can see the small cut. 

“Do you think you could sit down? It’ll be easier for me to reach.” she asked me. 

“Yes sorry,” I replied sitting down. 

My skin practically buzzes from anticipation, knowing I’ll feel the gentleness of her hands at any  moment.  I suddenly feel like an adolescent male again, excited at the idea of having a female hug me. The second the warm washcloth is pulled away from the cut it’s replaced by her hands smoothing a healing balm over it. I flinch at the chill of her fingers on my bare skin. 

“Sorry my hands are cold,” she apologizes. I almost laugh, her hands are nothing but perfect. All of her is. 

“No it’s okay,” I say back trying to keep my voice even. I feel her smooth a bandage over the cut and the second she removes her hands from my skin I contemplate begging her to touch me once more. 

“All patched up!” she cheers, already beginning to pick up the supplies. 

“Thank gods I thought they were going to have to amputate,” I laugh standing up and flexing my shoulder back and forth to get used to the feeling of the wrapping.

“We can’t have that. How would you dance at the Vanserra’s ball tomorrow night?” she jokes putting the kit back in the drawer. 

“Ah yes, I forgot that’s tomorrow,” I say. In truth I had been counting down the days leading up to the dreaded event.

“You are coming right?” she asks and I can sense a bit of worry behind her words.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” I assure her. 

“Good, it’ll be nice to have a familiar face there,” she smiles. “Who knows, maybe they’ll bring out that wine they had at dinner.”

“They better, there’s no way I can stand being in a room full of pompous assholes that long sober!” I laugh.  

“Tell me about it, I’ll have to dance with Eris all night,” she says, rolling her eyes. The image of her in his arms is enough to make my blood boil. 

“Who knows princess, maybe you’ll be surprised at your surplus of dance partners,” I smirk knowingly. 

“I’m sure Eris will beat them all off with a stick,” she huffs leaning against the table, picking at her nails. 

“Then he should talk to Rhys first and get a few pointers,”  I laughed leaning against the table next to her. 

"Or better yet, maybe I'll bring a stick to fend them off myself," she quips, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

With a shared laugh, we lingered in the moment, finding solace in each other's company before the looming specter of tomorrow's ball cast its shadow over us once more.

Part 5

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup

[bitethedevil]

How do you think Raphael would react to the player? 👁️👁️

Like, you or I just randomly get “isekai'd” into the house of hope?? Bonus points if said player is a raphael simp & 100% had the "such a tease" mod by Nikjima

(AN: I did a little short writing exercise for this one. I haven't really done reader fics before so bear with me. I can also warmly recommend @tellmeallaboutit's fic "knock knock" if you haven't read it already. It’s the same vibe as what you are requesting and it's really great. Also, links to all the mods I mention in this fic: "Such a Tease - A Raphael Redressing Mod", The Devil Wears Nada (Raphael Undressing Mod), and Better Raphael Outfits. And finally: Thank you for the ask <3)

Visiting the Devil's Den (Raphael x Reader)

You were replaying that scene in The Devil’s Den for perhaps the sixth time. You were taking screenshots of your favorite devil and there was this specific moment where the lighting hit his cheek in a really pretty way. You had missed it each time because your eyes kept drifting down to Raphael’s chest after you had downloaded the “Such a Tease” mod.

Didn’t matter. You would just reload the save and try again. It’s not like you would ever get tired of looking at that beautiful smug face of his anyway. You tried actually focusing on his face this time. You were barely listening to what he was saying at this point. You almost knew the whole damn interaction word for word anyway.

Your eyes drifted to his chest again. You had never quite understood some men’s inability to keep eye-contact when a woman wore a shirt with a revealing neckline, but you were starting to get it. You’d sell your right arm to run your hand over that chest…or bury your face in it.

Your train of thought was interrupted when you noticed that he had stopped mid-dialogue and was now…quiet?

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and you jumped a bit. He was looking straight at you.

What a weird glitch. That had never happened before, and it was honestly a bit unnerving with the way that his eyes looked straight into yours through the screen. Your brow furrowed and you tried to move your cursor. It didn’t seem like the screen was frozen or anything.

That is when he tilted his head slightly and smiled at you. You felt the blood drain from your face before your brain started thinking rationally again. It was a glitch. An odd glitch, but nothing reloading the save couldn’t fix.

You pressed on the Escape-key like you had done so many times before, but before you could click on the save file you heard a sound.

*Snap*

You blinked and you were somewhere else.

There you suddenly were, in your unflattering home-clothes, looking like someone who had just been dropped on the moon, right in front of the Devil You Know. The Devil You Knew So Well that he had been your unhealthy obsession for months. The man you had read, and written, so much depraved fanfiction about.

He was right in front of you, looking at you. Saying that you looked like a deer in headlights would almost have been an understatement of the level of shock your face showed.

“A pleasure to finally meet you,” he said with a smile and a bow, before looking you up and down. “This is getting rather tiresome, my dear…”

You were still frozen. You looked around the room. Your Tav and her companions weren’t there. The Devil’s Den looked like it had always done, and you knew because you had searched through every corner of it to learn more about Raphael, as you had also done with the House of Hope.

Your eyes returned to him. It all seemed real, but it couldn’t be. You were going insane…or someone had sneaked into your house and spiked your evening tea with psychedelics or something…Yes that’s it, you must be hallucinating. This could not be real.

You looked him up and down. He looked so damn real. Not like a character from a game, but a real-life person. Though he couldn’t be…Your eyes stupidly drifted to his chest for a moment. There were those dark hairs that you had been staring at for way too long, but they looked real. As if you could reach out and actually feel them.

Raphael cleared his throat to pull your attention back to his face. He snapped his fingers, and he was back in his usual clothes. His doublet was now closed again.

“This latest one was certainly an improvement from when you made me naked, but I do personally prefer a modicum of modesty when dealing with clients. Makes it easier for them to listen, instead of letting their thoughts…wander elsewhere,” Raphael said with a smile, clearly enjoying the blush that was spreading across your face. “Although…I must admit that the black suit with the red sash was starting to grow on me.”

You were now fully blushing, unable to even look at him. This might be a figment of your sick imagination, or a really fucked up fever-dream, but it was excruciatingly embarrassing.

“So quiet,” Raphael purred and looked you up and down again. “Or perhaps, you have simply grown too accustomed to only be listening to me speak…again and again and again…Not that I so much mind repeating myself, but when it is for the hundredth time and you have yet to make your little minions hand me the crown, it does get rather old.”

Something snapped in your brain, and you started quietly giggling.

“This isn’t real,” you mumbled to yourself with an almost maniacal grin. “I’m going insane…”

“While that thought did strife me as the explanation for this strange compulsive behavior of yours, I can very much assure you that this is real,” Raphael said with a hint of impatience in his voice while he watched you pace around the room.

“No, it’s not,” you said with a laugh and pointed at him. “You are a character in a game, and I am a real-life person who has lost her marbles. I am hallucinating!”

You paced around the room for a couple more rounds with Raphael looking at you with a slightly tired expression. Then a thought hit you.

“I can prove it,” you suddenly said and stopped your pacing. “I can prove that this isn’t real.”

“Oh?” Raphael said with a raised brow, looking unimpressed. “Do enlighten me, dear.”

“You can’t touch hallucinations,” you said as if you had just made a scientific breakthrough.

You walked up to him and raised your hand to poke his shoulder, expecting your hand to go straight through him. When you did poke him, your finger was stopped by his shoulder. Your face fell. Raphael looked from where you poked him to your face with an amused smile.

The frown on your face deepened as you poked him again with the same result. You whined in despair at the thought that this might be real, and here you were in front of Raphael himself, who seemed to know a bit too much about your obsession with him, acting like a complete lunatic.

“But…” you whined and almost poked him again in disbelief before he caught your hand with his. He held it and gave it a small pat as he looked at you.

“Are we all caught up now?” he asked still holding your hand.

“But…but this is so embarrassing,” You whispered, mostly to yourself, almost on the verge of tears. “It can’t be real…you even know about the mods…how would you even know about the mods?”

“I’m afraid that I am not quite sure what that word means,” Raphael said. “But yes, this situation does indeed seem quite embarrassing for you.”

You were trying your hardest not to break down. You wanted to bury yourself in a deep, deep hole and never show your face again. You were staring at his hand holding yours, trying to take it all in. You felt the heat of his skin against yours. He had remarkably soft hands.

“The good thing is though, that no one has to know,” he said squeezing your hand gently. His tone was much softer now. “It can be our little secret. I must admit that I find your little infatuation quite flattering.”

You looked up at his face, but the intensity of his smoldering eyes was just too much. You knew enough about this man to know that he was absolutely manipulating the fuck out of you, and by the gods, was it working.

“I might even be inclined to let you further explore that cute little fascination of yours behind closed doors,” he said in a low voice and raised his hand to stroke your cheek gently, making you completely red in the face from blushing. “If, of course, you do something for me in return, my dear…”

“The Crown…” you mumbled.

“Clever, aren’t you?” he purred. “You get those adventurers to sign my contract and hand me the Crown of Karsus and I will indulge you in whatever your sinful little heart desires...”

He lifted your hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on it. You felt as if you might spontaneously combust on the spot at the gesture.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked with a smile on his face that was turning your brain into mush.

This was such a bad idea. You had seen clips from the ending where Raphael gets the Crown of Karsus. He literally threatens to conquer other realms, including your own. Now knowing that Raphael was real, then this could be a really, really, really terrible idea with enormous consequences. So, naturally, you looked up into those beautiful brown eyes of his and answered:

“Yes.”

His smile widened.

“Wonderful. I will look forward to our next meeting,” he said with look that was downright sinful. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear which made your legs wobble under you. “Ta-ta, for now.”

*Snap*

[atxxokirina]

Seven Deadly Sins. | Lust.

Neteyam x Fem Na'vi reader

Part one, Gluttony with Lo'ak.

plot: you strictly told Neteyam not to bother you while you're with your friends, unless it's an emergency. But he needs you, he needs your body.. and that alone is an emergency to him.

contains: SMUT SMUTTY SMUT, rough, mean (ish) dom Neteyam, forced creampie (reader says no at first but eventually gives in), 2 sex scenes, exhibitionist Neteyam

Neteyam's sex drive was always high. No matter where, and when, as long as it was around you, he was practically hard the majority of the time. So much so that it hurts.

You've been at a party deep in the forest for the past hour. Dancing with your friends, drinking, and overall enjoying your time. Meanwhile, Neteyam is situated at your shared hut, failing to make himself cum. Thrusting his cock into his fist, tiny grunts and whimpers forming in his throat. He would have travel to where you are, just for a quickie, but he remembered what you told him before you left.

"If you're horny, touch yourself, or just wait for me, okay baby?" You gently kiss cheek. "Here's your comm, don't page me unless it's an emergency."

Fuck. He thought. This is so unfair. He needs you now. Now, now, now. Those words repeat in his head like a throbbing heart beat, never going away. Neteyam shakes his thoughts, leaning back and trying to focus on feeling good. He lets out a deep sigh, massaging his shaft as he uses his precum as lube. Images of you flash in his mind, your soft lips, perfect tits, and your ass.. oh, fuck. Your ass. He began forming it in his mind, replaying the times your ass bounced back on him while he held you down. This helped for a little, but it just wasn't enough.

Neteyam reaches up to his neck for the comm you and him share. This wouldn't count as interrupting your night, right? And this is an emergency..

"Y/n?" You hear a faint voice in your right ear, heart dropping once you realize it's Neteyam. You press the button down on your neck. "Neteyam? Is everything okay?" You ask hurriedly, already looking around for your belongings.

"Everything is fine. I just.. fuck, I want to be inside you." You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your bags back down on the floor. "Really, Teyam? I said emergencies only." You huff, annoyingly. "This is a fucking emergency." He mewls, teasing the dip of his cock. "And watch your attitude. Don't make me come up there and fix it."

"Neteyam, I'm with my friends. I have to go-" Just as you were about to turn your comm off, you hear a deep, husk growl. "No. You're staying." He could hear your tiny pouts as he palmed his cock, closing his eyes to invision you. "Keep talking to your friends." You hum, unsure about what he's planning. "O-Okay." You follow his orders, conversing with your peers as he groaned in your ear.

"Yeah, fuck.. love hearing your voice," He moans, causing a flame to ignite in your stomach. "Neteyam.." You whispered, turning your head so your friends don't see you talking. "I can't do this." He grunts. "Is that so? Hm, why not?" He speaks through his strained moans. "My friends are here. Please, just handle this yourself." You whisper-yell, ripping the comm off of your neck, finally feeling relief.

But that sweet relif didn't last very long. It was only moments later before you hear Neteyam's voice piercing through the bud in your ear. "Think you can just hang up on me like that? I need you, now!" He yelled, voice crisp and looming. You grab your comm again, pressing down the button with annoyance. "Neteyam, are you serious? I'll be back for you later! Just wait." You plead, pure desperation in your tone.

"Yeah? Wait? You want me to wait for you?" You swallow another gulp. Feeling guilty for leaving him like this. "Listen." He commands, bringing the comm down to his cock, ensuring that you hear his precum and slick slathered around it. The friction of him stroking his shaft. Up and down, up and down. You hear his faint moans and whimpers in the background, instantly making you melt.

Feeling a heat form through your body, and river through your loincloth. It turned you on beyond words to hear him like this. Begging for you to come home and take care of him. "Does that sound like I can fucking wait? Bring your ass home, y/n. Right now." Neteyam growled, ending your call with a click.

You whined. As much as you wanted to stay and have fun with your friends, you were still scared of what Neteyam would do if you didn't get back immediately.

In defeat, you said your goodbyes to everyone. Promising to see them again tomorrow, even though you probably won't be able to walk by then.

Eventually making your way home, you carefully step in. "Neteyam?" You called out, feeling your body being shoved onto your cot without hesitation. You yelp, seeing Neteyam on top of you and holding your arms above your head. He's fully naked, not even wearing the jewelry he usually has on. "I should rip your little body apart for making me wait this long.." He whispers, grazing his sharp fangs against your jugular as he humps his cock against your clothed pussy. "Ah.. I-I'm sorry," You mewl at the pressure. "I don't think you are.." He trails down, sinking his teeth into your thin and flimsy loincloth, tearing it in two. "But you will be.

He holds your hips down, causing you to try to free yourself. "Don't fucking move." He grunts, slapping his thick, girthy dick against your clit. Your pussy clenches at the feeling, simply aching for more. He lines himself up with your pussy, slowly sliding in as your warmth envelopes him. You both moan in unison. "Ohhh fuckkkk.. yeah, that's better. A lot better." He groans, looking down as he starts to stroke inside of you. You gasp at how quick he starts off, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Neteyam desperately fucks into you, mewling and huffing in your ear. "Too much! Slow down, please Teyeam!" You cry, squeezing your eyes shut.

"This is what you get," *thrust* "..for making me fucking wait." *thrust*

"I'm sorry! I'm s-sooo sorry!" You whimper again as he lifts himself up, removing your arms from around them and pinning them above your head. "Yeah, take it. Just like that." He leans his body back, drilling his cock into you with almost zero effort, eyes rolling back at the way your walls tighten around him. Neteyam grabs your face, making sure you hold eye contact with him. "Don't look away," His hips stutter. "I want you to look at me while I fill you up with my fucking cum." Your pupils widen, shaking your head as you attempt to free your arms. "N-No! I don't wanna get- preg..nant, please!!" You beg and babble. Too fucked out to properly speak. "Hah.. what was that?" He teased, taking his cock out and shoving it right back in. Knocking the air out of your lungs. "You wanna get pregnant?" You mewl, followed by a whined squeal. "Shit, keep making those fucking noises.." Neteyam lets out a deep moan, still fucking you mercilessly. "Mm-mm!" You try to deny, but it sounds like more of a moan to him.

"No fucking problem. I'm gonna fill you up with my cum, that'll teach you not to make me wait anymore, won't it?" He thrusts deeper and deeper with every word. It feels so good. As if his dick had fucking drugs on it, even if you said no, you wanted this. You wanted his cum more than anything. "Oh? You're not gonna speak to me?" He chucked, slamming back down, making you yelp like a pathetic pup. "Or are you too drunk of my cock to say anything?— Fuck, I'm so close."

He speeds up, chasing his high like he'd die without it. "Ah, fuck! I'm cumming inside you.. shit, I'm filling this pussy up!" He moaned as small spurts of his seed spew into you, turning into thick ropes that filled your womb. "Oh fuck, Neteyam!" You gasp, arching your back as your body collapsed.

"I'm not done with you." Neteyam positions himself against the wall holding your body up and shoving it down on his still hard cock. He grips your waist, nails digging into your skin while he guides your hips, forcing your sensitive cunt to take more of him. "I can't do this, please.." Your head falls into the crook of his neck, whimpering in his ear.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," You repeat over and over again, but he couldn't care less. "Shut the fuck up, and take it." He demanded, aggressively moving you back and forth. Wet, squelching noises fill your hut. Along with your needy moans, and his painful thrusting. Your body is giving up, and you've decided to take the overwhelming pleasure. You moan and whimper after every thrust, slick drooling onto his cock. Neteyam holds the plush of your ass, shifting his hips and hitting you sweet spot.

"I'm gonna cum in this pussy again. You're gonna be so full of me, full of my seed." You moan in response, needy 'mhm's' coming out in pieces. "Fuck, I'm cumming.. Take it all, take all of this fucking load." He grunts, shuddering as he releases his cream into you again. "I'm filling you up baby, oh, fuuck," the rest of his seed flows into you. You and him out of breath, refusing to let each other go.

taglist: @pandorxxx @sweethoneycn @neytirishottie @sullybrosimp @tsireyafavgirl @teyamsbitch @encephalitis-on-sundays @sassypain @neon-groves @rosyj @hidingfrommanda @whore-for-hawks

[moons-and-mobility-aids]

When Sirius Fell In Love

Pairings: Pre-poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: Sirius realises he's falling for you. [wordcount: 1.1k words] Tags: fem!reader, wheelchair user!reader, friends to lovers, soft!sirius black Sirius's Realisation | James's Realisation | Remus's Realisation | The Plan

He first notices it in Charms.

The morning sun is streaming in through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the classroom. The light catches on your hair as you lean down to write, each strand shimmering like spun gold. Seated two rows behind, Sirius watches the scene unfold, his attention drawn away from the lecture and towards you.

Professor Flitwick is at the front of the class, perched atop a stack of books, his high-pitched voice filling the room with lessons on the Cheering Charm. But Sirius is otherwise occupied, studying you instead. Your muggle pen moves across the parchment in slow, hesitant strokes, so different from the confident scribbles of your classmates. It's one of those little things about you that he's begun to notice—tiny details that had always been there but had somehow escaped his attention until now.

James nudges his side with an elbow, and Sirius starts, blinking back to awareness. "Oi, you still with us, Black?" James teases, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You've been staring into nothing for five minutes straight."

"Just thinking," Sirius mumbles, the words barely audible as he shakes off the lingering tendrils of his thoughts. He straightens up, trying to focus on the lesson before them, but his eyes keep wandering back to you—this enigma, this anomaly in his otherwise predictable world.

You're not like anyone Sirius has ever known, and it's not just because you're disabled. No, there's something more, something indefinable that sets you apart. You don't fall into any neat categories in his mind—you're not brash and boisterous like James, nor are you reserved and studious like Remus. Yet somehow, you fit right in with them, a puzzle piece clicking into place within their dynamic.

Though you've been friends with Remus for much longer, it's only this year that you've started spending time with Sirius and James too. At first, Sirius wasn't sure what to make of you—you were nothing like the other girls who trailed after him, their giggles as light as their resolve. You were different; your wit was sharp, your smile was reserved for those who earned it, and you didn't shy away from challenging Sirius when he stepped out of line.

And then there's the way you speak to Remus—with an understanding so deep it feels like you can see through the walls he’s built around himself. You talk about things that matter, about fears and dreams, hopes and disappointments. It's a language foreign to Sirius, one that scares him even as it draws him in.

"Sirius, are you even listening?" James snaps his fingers in front of Sirius's face, pulling him back from the edges of his thoughts. "You've been staring at that parchment for ages."

"Shut up, Potter," Sirius mutters, pretending to scribble something down. But his mind is elsewhere, replaying the scene by the lake last week when you sat with Remus, talking animatedly about some muggle book you'd both read. James had been trying to lure the giant squid with bits of toast, and Sirius, for once, was watching someone other than himself. He watched you—the way your eyes sparkled with excitement, how your laughter danced on the breeze, how your entire being seemed to glow when you smiled. And something shifted inside him, something he couldn’t quite grasp.

As he watches you from across the room during Charms, Sirius feels it again—that strange warmth that stirs in his chest whenever he sees you. He doesn't know what to do with this unfamiliar sensation, nor does he understand it. All he knows is that it's new, it's different, and he's not sure if he likes it.

"Concentrate, Black," he mutters under his breath, willing himself to focus on the spell Professor Flitwick is demonstrating. But the pull is too strong, the curiosity too great, and his eyes keep drifting back to you.

After class, you roll your chair next to Remus as you both head to the library, immersed in a discussion about the day's lesson. James and Sirius follow at a distance, their conversation a low hum behind you. Yet every so often, Sirius's gaze lingers on your retreating form, drawn to the graceful way you navigate the crowded corridors, the effortless manner in which you steer your chair. He's noticed how others occasionally steal glances at you, whispering behind hands, but you never falter. There's a quiet strength in your resilience, and against his better judgment, Sirius finds himself admiring it.

“Are you coming to the pitch later?" James asks, draping an arm over Sirius's shoulders.

"Hm?" Sirius blinks, his eyes finally leaving you.

"Quidditch practice," James prompts, one eyebrow lifting in mild concern. "You seem a bit...distracted."

"I'm fine." The words tumble out of Sirius too quickly, too sharply. "Yeah, I'll be there."

When they reach the library, Remus peels off towards the stacks, leaving you alone with Sirius and James at a worn oak table. You pull your notes from your bag, parchment rustling against the silence. Sirius watches as you adjust in your chair, finding just the right angle before leaning over your work. James launches into Quidditch talk immediately, but Sirius's attention strays once more.

You glance up from your parchment, meeting his gaze with a small smile. "Something on your mind, Black? You're quieter than usual."

Sirius's lips part, but for once, no smooth retort or joke comes forth. It's a strange sensation—this sudden knot in his stomach, the dryness of his throat. He's never been nervous around you before, why should he start now? Yet there it is, an undeniable flutter in his chest that quickens his heartbeat and dampens his palms.

"Nothing," he says abruptly, breaking eye contact. His gaze flits to a spot just over your shoulder, anywhere but those searching eyes. "I'm just... tired, I suppose."

Your quill hovers mid-air as you study him, head tilting slightly to one side. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he says, and he tries to make it sound like a joke, like everything else. "I'm always sure."

But he's not—not about this. Not when it comes to feelings that are as foreign as they are terrifying, creeping in like shadows at dusk until they consume him completely.

The quill scratches against the paper as you resume your homework, unaware of the storm brewing within Sirius. A warmth spreads through his chest, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting. It unsettles him, this strange sensation, but he doesn't push it away. Instead, he lets it linger, filling the hollow spaces with something akin to hope.

He can't quite grasp what this means, not yet. But as he watches you write, your brow furrowed in concentration, and listens to James prattling on about Quidditch plays, one thing becomes clear to Sirius Black:

He’s falling for you. And it terrifies him.

[whoreofabaddon]

I apologize somewhat insincerely for the pause in my regular posting, but I'm about to talk in depth about some of the power dynamics we see at play in IwtV.

Particularly, something that has been weighing on my mind is this post by @platoapproved in which we see Louis lightly stroking the bruises of Armand's trauma. Despite the fact the OP caught those hints so amazingly, the reblogs turn into an absolute cesspool in which there are many baffling accusations. So I wanted to touch on this from the perspective of someone who has both been in multiple D/s relationships (albeit as a lesbian and not a gay man) and is also a psychotherapist so trained in trauma responses.

The first thing I wanted to say is that we’re never given any reason to believe Louis is anything but a compassionate and skilled dominant partner. There are no moments portrayed between them where he oversteps any of Armand’s boundaries or where he uses their dynamic for manipulative purposes. We’re actually shown the opposite of that in the scenes where their power exchange come into play. He soothes Armand’s trepidation around setting boundaries and doesn’t force him to witness a new vampire being made. The one time we see Louis truly push Armand to accept a command is when he’s preventing him from killing Daniel, and even then, he validates that he’s hurt Armand enough to understand why he wants to. 

Similarly, we’re actually never shown Armand pushing Louis to take part in that dynamic when he doesn’t want to like so many keep claiming. I suspect that it was actually thrilling for Louis to meet a vampire older and more powerful than his maker, only to find that vampire would willingly allow him to have the control and authority between them. After having spent years in an abusive relationship, it must have seemed to be a gesture of great love to be shown such deference after Lestat had treated him so cruelly and disrespectfully. 

If anything it’s likely healing due to the change in the pattern. And that, I think, is also what is happening when we see Louis begin to draw from Armand’s history of trauma and introduce that into their dynamic. I fully believe he is playing with this dangerous subject because it is something Armand has never finished processing; he's such a trusted figure in Armand's life that it is safe for them to do this together. Armand's not been able to complete the loop of thoughts surrounding his abusive childhood, and so his mind is going to replay it over and over and seek out ways to ‘master’ it. That means his brain has to be convinced that he’s ‘solved’ the issue and the risk is abated. So he is going to keep returning to it or desperately avoiding it, and Armand’s patterns lean towards pursuing the subject matter over and over. The fact that it is Louis drawing on the memories means he knows he’s able to have the freedom of changing the ending; he goes ‘to coffin’ with his maitre at the end, he’s not truly given away for someone else’s sexual pleasure, and the fear and humiliation is touched on but ends before it can get worse. This time the offer is declined, this time he can reply snappily ("I wouldn't let you near my neck..."), and this time he doesn’t have the horrible emotional push-pull of ‘how dare you do as I tell you’ which Marius tended to use against him. (I also think Louis is referencing Armand’s blood being addictive to Daniel in the books, but that’s another layer to explore at a later time).

So I’ll say that, unlike some commenters, I don’t think it’s ‘ugly’ that Louis is mirroring aspects of Marius’ behaviors. Instead, I think the vulnerability and trust that it would require for them to successfully do this shows something very beautiful about the way they relate to each other.  

(Mandatory disclaimer that I am not suggesting that everyone ought to drop out of therapy and process their trauma using an untrained partner and kink. There is a high chance that you can trigger your partner. I am simply illustrating the psychology and perceived intentions at play and why this could feel satisfying to the characters).  And tagging @thequeenofsastiel for the promised meta.

[mirroringdust]

A retelling of the fight scene from Galadriel’s POV with some twists (M for violence)

It was the clash of swords, ringing in her ears so loud it felt like her head was going to burst. She tried to keep her vision clear and not let it blur, not in front of him, not with his sword held against hers and the crown in his hand. He had come to face her on this forgotten space of land atop a peak that vanished out of a forest, trees erased, giving way to an empty path. The one she was walking.

Galadriel wasn't supposed to face him alone, it wasn't what she had planned, but the circumstances had been different and unexpected, and somehow, she was glad for it. She could not deny that she wanted to face him once more, to make up for what she once had failed to do. To pay her debt once and for all and to banish Sauron from this land, or at least to prevent him from getting those rings of doom.

Everyone knew of her failure, and now she had to cling to the light, just as Celebrimbor had told her.

But it did not begin as it should. You could make it appear before your inner eyes as many times as possible, but when it became reality, it was always different. She had not expected what it would be like to actually see him again, to face him and to be aware of his presence. 

Over and over again, Galadriel had seen him in her mind, replayed the moments of their encounter countless times, just to normalise them, to take away the emotions that accompanied them and put a dull blanket over them, but it hadn't worked.

Now he really was here in the flesh right before her eyes, and she recognised him, even if he had changed. His gaze was stern, the joy in his eyes vanished and his posture straight and defensive or aggressive, she could not decipher. At the same time, she felt that the awareness of his presence made her entire mind quiver as if she had felt a tremor that she had to fight off in her mind to keep herself from letting him in. She couldn’t, not again.

Even now, in the face of his changed façade and his darkness, it seemed as if the connection was a part of her. The pain and turmoil she felt at the thought of Numenor, of fighting with him, of how he had saved lives, made her heart shatter before her eyes. She had never felt so much bliss and so much pain in disturbing unison.

So, she just stood there as he passed by and scrutinised her. As if she had fallen into a trance, she could only try to calm her trembling hands, try to slow her heartbeat and keep her eyes on him. An unsettling image of dread and familiarity. A horrifying warm breeze was blowing in her face as time unfolded agonisingly.

Galadriel’s thoughts were a jumble, and she could only wrestle them down by trying to put them in order, by trying to split the picture down the middle, as she had done so many times in the past few weeks. And in the shape she saw him now, it would probably be easier for her than ever before. 

How could this dark figure be Halbrand? He stood there passively and just watched the orcs slaughter Adar. And he seemed to indulge in it. It was an image of dread as Galadriel struggled to regain her balance. This could never be Halbrand. She tried to let anger seep into her core. How could he have deceived her like this?

He's not Halbrand, it was an illusion, he's not Halbrand, it was an illusion. He wasn't…

Her encounters with Celebrimbor and Adar had shaken her, and not just because of the cruelty he had inflicted on them. He. Sauron.

But she despised herself for feeling another, deeper cruelty at the sight of it all. The cruelty had not only been lying in his deeds. The cruelty had been recognising the truth, looking into a mirror of herself.

She had wanted it.

I wanted what he offered.

Galadriel had longed for it. And now that she saw him again, no matter what he looked like, she felt it again.

He finished the doomed work of destruction and finally turned to her. The shock travelled to her bones and nested there until she had to react. Do something to confront him. 

His face looked much paler in the dim light of the forest. Raising one eyebrow, he focused on her attentively. Otherwise, his expression was devoid of all forms of emotion, and Galadriel found herself searching for clues. What was he thinking, meeting her now?

Such thoughts should not matter at this moment. But somehow they did to her.

“Was it all by your design?” she asked, the words had filled her whole senses, longing to be pushed out in the desperate air. Two contradicting forces were fighting in her mind again. Part of her wanted the easy way out, part of her waited for him to fulfil the desire of her heart to let it be true, only once.

Continue on AO3, hope you'll like it!

[lostinwoso]

Loser (Alexia x Reader)

Song - 3.1k words

Oh, I'm such a loser, how'd I ever lose her? Oh, maybe I must have been out of my mind Now, I'm a loser, why'd I have to lose her? I'll never recover, I'll never be fine 'cause I

Alexia is lying in bed, the conversation between the both of you just a few hours ago keeps on replaying in her mind over and over again. This isn’t her first break-up, but for some reason this one with you cuts deeper than any other she had to go through. 

The way you brokenly whispered “I can’t do this anymore.”, while desperately trying to keep your tears at bay, brings tears to her own eyes. Just like you earlier, she tries to avoid them from running down her face, but as her mind repeats the scene of you pulling away when she tried to touch you and instead whispered a small, “Sorry.”, before turning around to leave her behind, is enough to make the tears fall.  

“¡Estúpida Alexia!”, the Spanish woman harshly whispers to herself while rather aggressively wiping the tears away, but no matter how often she does it, there always seem more and more tears to make their way down her face. 

Eventually the heart-broken woman gives up, just letting the tears run down her face since it’s not like they would stop anytime soon when the scene keeps on replaying over and over again, not even giving her the chance to calm down any time soon. Even as she falls asleep from exhaustion a few hours later, your face and words are still present in her mind.

I just might get a little too drunk, so I won't think about us (Uh) I don't think about what (Uh) we could have been And I stay up like three or four nights, so I won't dream about us (Uh) I wake up with no luck (No), I just can't win

No matter how much Alexia tries to keep you off her mind, it doesn’t work. If it isn’t you breaking up with her on her mind than its other moments shared between the two of you. All the times she made you laugh, the movies and shows you watched and the little trips you took together.

What was new though were the thoughts and dreams about the what if’s? What if you two didn’t break up? Would you two be together on one of the trips you two wanted to go on? Walking together through the streets of Athens together? Or maybe rather decided to go to Paris together? Snapping the most usual tourist pictures ever with the Eiffel Tower? 

But it isn't just the short-term what if's that occupy her. What if it’s just a small up and down along the way? Weren’t you two meant to last forever, as she first thought you two would be? Weren’t you both meant to marry each other at some point in the future? Weren’t you supposed to wear her last name ‘Putellas’ proudly? Shouldn’t you have been the one she starts a family with? 

All those questions run through her mind at high speed. And if distracting herself doesn’t work, then a little alcohol should do the magic, right? So here she sits at home on her couch, second bottle of wine already halfway chugged down, watching some random show on the TV. And to be fair it did help a little, but only until she finally called it a night and went to bed, that’s when she is confronted with your face again, clearly visible in her mind. Sometimes it’s just you alone, but sometimes she can see herself next to you, doing all the what if’s her mind won’t shut up about.

And the only thing that can help prevent that from happening? Staying awake. So instead of drinking herself to sleep, she drinks just enough to make her mind a bit quieter but not too much for her to feel sleepy, so she can stay awake as long as possible. One night without sleep turns into two, then three, and eventually four. She even tried to push for a fifth night but there is only so much her body can take without sleep, so despite her wanting to fall asleep, she does. Once again dreaming of you two together just to wake up all alone, but still with you present in her mind.

I should've seen it all along (Ah-ah) She was one in a million (Ah-ah) It hurts whenever someone says her name

Alexia tried her hardest to not look at you during training, pretending as if you weren’t there. And that was honestly working out quite well so far for her, mostly thanks to the separated group drills you were in, but football in general has always been Alexia’s escape when things in life were difficult. 

She is completely focused on the drill at hand, until a loud shriek breaks her focus away from the ball.

“Y/N!”.

Pain. A small stab feeling like pain hits the woman’s chest, as her throat closes up a little. She raises her hand up to her chest to rub the spot where the stabbing-like pain comes from, but it refuses to leave. She knows she shouldn’t look over right now, if that is the reaction of simply hearing your name, she doesn’t want to know how worse the pain could get from seeing you. But it's as if she has no control over her own eyes anymore, and before she knows it, she is looking at you. 

There you are laughing at Jana who tries to wipe her face dry with her training top after you just splashed some of your water on her face. Alexia forgets to breathe for a moment, tears gathering in her eyes, the pain in her chest getting worse, but she couldn’t look away. Her eyes focus on your face, the face you make while laughing always managed to bring a smile to her face, but not now. All it does now is bring her another wave of pain while reminding the woman of what should have seen long before.

You are the only one for her. 

Oh, I'm such a loser, how'd I ever lose her? Oh, maybe I must have been out of my mind Now, I'm a loser, why'd I have to lose her? I'll never recover, I'll never be fine 'cause I

It’s been almost two weeks since you broke things off with a Catalonian woman, Alexia thought it would be better by now, that her heart wouldn’t ache anymore every time she sees or hears you in training but no. The pain is still there, every. single. time. 

The what ifs are still there. During the day in her thoughts or at night in her dreams. Her family noticed the change in the woman, usually she would call or text every day, but now it’s only every now and then, when her mind actually allows having another thought for a moment before you would take your place there again. 

Her mother and sister asked questions, they went through every possible thing that could lead to their loved one to be so distant and distracted all the time. But the answer was always the same, “No, it’s not that.”. That’s until they ask if something happened between the two of you, she doesn't answer immediately. Should she admit that you left her in the dust? Did you leave her for good? What would they say? Would they be disappointed, upset for losing you, when they love you almost as much as she loves you?

With those thoughts in mind, she softly shakes her head, whispering a weak, “No”, that she herself can’t even really buy sincerely off. Her mother and sister make eye contact for a moment, not believing the woman in front of them, but instead of questioning further, they just decide to hold her a little closer.

Uh, I just might been a little too gone When she needed somebody (Uh) Up against her body (Woah) at 2 AM

In the third week, Alexia tried to think about what the breaking point of your relationship could have been. The obviousness in the answer pains Alexia, she is an asked woman, so as one of the most popular women in the football industry she often has many events to attend. 

Those events often go until the early mornings, with alcohol flowing easily throughout the entire night. Chatting with strangers and investors that don’t even really care about her as a person, only caring about her as the brand and face she has become for women football all over the world. Is that why she lost you? Because she rather wasted her time away with people who don’t even care about her as a person? 

As Alexia tries to recount the amount of times she didn’t make it home until the early mornings, she lets out a sigh. Why didn’t she try harder to be there for you? Why did she stay there for so long when all the important stuff was always finished way earlier? 

She can’t imagine how you must have felt all the times where you had to go to bed alone and having to wake up alone at times, or having to spend mornings alone because the alcohol the woman consumed left her dead asleep until early noon. 

How much does she wish she would have done things different, wishing that time machines are real, and she could simply go back in time and do things the right way for you. Being there right next to you while going to sleep, holding you close to her all throughout the night until you both would have to get up together. Spending all the mornings together making breakfast or just staying in a little longer. 

But that’s not how things work in life. There is no time machine she can use to get back in time, no. She is here in the present, alone, without you by her side.

Yeah, and now I keep lying to myself When she's just joking probably (She's joking probably) She'll probably call me and we'll be us again

Denial. That was up next, after the first two weeks of only grief, which is still present, and questioning the possible reason of you calling quits on her is now the time for denial.

Every relationship has its ups and downs, so maybe this is yours? Maybe you didn’t mean a complete break-up but rather a small break apart from one another?  

Deep down Alexia knows that this isn’t the case, this wasn’t just a down in your relationship, after all there is no relationship to have ups and downs in anymore. You felt her, completely, with no intention of coming back. But lying to herself is much easier than accepting the truth. 

So she checks her phone almost every 30 minutes, has her ringtone on full volume, waiting for you to send her a text or call her to tell her you didn’t mean what you said. You were joking or just having a bad day when all this disaster happened.  So it’s just a matter of time until you reach out to her, it could happen any minute, or maybe you would rather have this walk in person and will approach her at the next training session?  

It will eventually happen, that’s what Alexia repeats in her head over and over again, if not in the next hour, then the day and if not the next day then the days after this one, but it will happen. You will reach out and tell her that everything is okay between the two of you, you still have a chance to experience all those scenarios her mind plays on the daily. This is not the end between the two of you, it can’t be. 

But the text or call never comes in, and you don’t even spend moments longer close to her in training than you have to. She knew from the beginning that the thought was ridiculous, she knows that you didn’t just joke about breaking up, but damn does she wish you did. So no matter how much she knew how stupid and unrealistic the thought was, she hoped there was at least some possibility of it becoming reality. 

Wanting nothing more than to have you back by her side.

I should've seen it all along (Ah-ah) She was one in a million (Ah-ah) Now she's in love, and I'm in second place (Damn)

The denial phase ended rather quickly, but the ultimate end to it was put when you posted a picture of Ana and you on Instagram. The both of you smiling brightly at one another with the Swiss woman having her arm thrown around your shoulder, pulling you into her, way closer than normal friends would be. 

That’s just a normal picture of two friends, right? There is no way you moved on from her while she is still hung up on you, right? 

But the simple heart you used as caption is enough to let her know that this is not just a simple picture between two friends, and the comment from Ana with a heart and the heart-eyes emoji doesn’t help her suspicion either. 

She did notice that the two of you spend more time together. You were always right next to each other in training, doing all the pair drills together or just chatting and joking away during drink breaks. At first, she didn’t think much of it, you two did all the partner drills together, so of course you would do them with someone else after your break-up, but this picture, the way you almost became inseparable during training and the conversations she overheard during training, which she purposely tried to ban out of her head, lets her know that whatever there is, isn’t just a friendship anymore. 

The conversations she tried to ban from her mind were mostly between the two of you making plans to hang out or talk about how much fun hanging out together the day prior was, how excited you both were to go and try out the new place around the corner or how great the movie was you watched the other night at Ana’s place. 

But the most important once she wished she never witnesses was one which you weren’t even part of. During one of the strength sessions, Aitana approached the Swiss woman, asking her how the ‘date’ you and her were on, the day prior, went. Alexia listened to any word Ana said, how amazing it went, how much fun you both had, how she can’t wait for the next one that will just be a few days later, how amazing you are and how much she likes you and hopes for it to go somewhere. 

So if Alexia was honest to herself, she knew long before you posted the picture that you were moving on. But it was simpler to deny it, much, much easier to ignore everything she heard and label the conversation between Ana and Aitana as a misunderstanding, that you two didn’t go on a romantically motivated date, no, it was a simple hang-out between friends accidentally labeled as a date. 

But she can’t deny it any longer, there was now proof, not just for her to see but for everyone in the world too. You moved on without her. You are in love with someone else while she is stuck here in second place, still having a hard time to get over the break-up.

Tell me God is real Do you think about me still Or am I livin' for nothin'? Don't know where it went Wrong but I'll just take the hint It's gonna take some adjusting

Alexia knows she has no chance but to move on. But she still struggles with adjusting to seeing you and Ana together all the time. She knows you try to keep it as low-key as possible when she is around, she can tell in the way you glimpse at her when Ana was standing a bit closer to you when she was around, trying to keep a certain distance to your new girlfriend in respect of her.

But this also made her wonder, is there still a chance you think of her like she thinks of you? Or are you simply trying not to make things awkward between you? Is that the only time you think of her? 

But she never asks you, because once again Alexia knows the answer to her own question,  because the way you look at Ana and Ana at you is the answer, there is no chance of you still harboring the same feelings towards her the way she does for you.

Having to accept this hurts, almost as much as the first day of the break-up itself, but she will move on, she will leave you alone. You are happy, you deserve happiness even if it's not with her, she has to accept it. And she will move on, but not because she wants to, no way does she want to give you up, no. She does it because she loves you, and you deserve the happiness Ana gives you, so she will let you go. 

Oh, I'm such a loser, how'd I ever lose her? Oh, maybe I must have been out of my mind Now, I'm a loser (Oh), why'd I have to lose her? (I'll never) I'll never recover, I'll never be fine (Oh, baby, I) 'Cause I'm a loser

Lying once more in bed, she stares at the ceiling, it’s been a good three months now since your break-up. You were thriving with Ana, everyone could tell how great you are together, how happy and healthy the relationship is. Alexia on the other hand can’t say the same. The woman tried so hard to move on, but every time she tries to get to know someone she compares them to you, and to her, no one could ever compare to you. You were the one in a million for her, and she lost you.

You are happily moving on with your life, while she is stuck in the same place you left her. Alexia feels lost, defeated. Even with all these trophies in her apartment, proving how successful the woman is, she can’t help but feel like a loser. How did she manage to win so many trophies but lost the person that was made for her? 

“¿Por qué soy un perdedor?”, Alexia asks herself, tears once again making their way down her face.

[nahoney22]

Racing Ahead

Tech X GN!Reader

word count: 1.5k

When Tech is more than willing to race to save you and Cid from the claws of Cid’s old acquaintance, how do you feel when he steals something for good luck.

warnings: scenes used from Ep 4 of TBB S2, mutual pining and tooth rotting fluff. Reader is gender neutral. Not proofread.

All of Tech’s hard work shattered before his eyes and even though you personally found TAY-0 to be one of the most arrogant and irritating droids alive, it was harrowing seeing him get blasted by a racer. Just before the race to get Cid back was about to begin, too.

“Tough luck, looks like a forfeit.” Millegi snidely comments, a smirk on his face. You look up at the Dowutin, eyes glaring daggers which you now came to realise was a fateful decision as that smirk grows wider.

“You know, I like things to be even too. So double the money… and double the crew.” His hand reaches down, clasping over your shoulder and brings you harshly into his chest with your back.

“Let them go.” Tech speaks with sense of overpowering protectiveness, hand placed on his holster ready to shoot if need be.

“Uh, this wasn’t part of the deal!” You squirm in his grasp only to be pushed back towards the other of his little cronies where they kept you more securely from running off.

“That’s hustlin for you. Cid should have taught you all about that.” He guffaws but that’s when something in Tech had snapped.

“I’ll be the racer.”

Your eyes widened and your squirming quickly subsided as you shook your head at him. “Tech, no. It’s far too dangerous.” You couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“This is something I have to do. There is not a choice in this.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke, eyes glaring at the men in front of him with venom in his eyes. Seeing you being manhandled like that shot a course of panic and determination through his veins and if he had to race one hundred times to get you back, he would.

Eyes widening in a mix of horror and shock, you keep protesting although there is not really any alternative option. But, Tech’s face showed the greatest determination he had ever displayed and it was all in favor of you. Well, and Cid.

Although you shouldn’t feel grateful, Millegi kindly told you that you could say your ‘goodbyes’ as he put it and allowed you to spend five minutes with Tech before the race was to begin.

When you could finally see him, he’s by the speeder he had fixed up, over analyzing every small detail. Even Omega and Wrecker had to sit back and watch, chewing their fingernails to subdue their hanging anxiety.

“Tech, what are you doing? This is madness! You don’t even know how to race.” You join his side, his eyes briefly meeting yours before looking back at the layout of the track on his datapad.

“I have surveyed the whole layout and I think the favors are in my court.” He says as a matter of fact but there’s still nerves in both of your stomachs.

“You could die.” You point out, replaying the scenes of the previous two races in your head after seeing what happened to those contestants.

Tech drops his datapad and switches for a spanner, making a small alteration on the speeder and practically ignores your statement.

He knew the risks to this sport but he could not sit back and do nothing. He had no time to fix TAY-0 so this was the only solution. He freezes however, feeling something place on his forearm and he looks to see your hand. “Tech.”

He sighs a little and looks over to you. “We should have never agreed to come do this mission for Cid. It had too many risks that I had not calculated before coming.”

“We didn’t know this would happen.”

“That may be so, but look at what predicament it has got you in.” His voice is stern but of course laced with concern.

“Millegi said he wasn’t going to kill me,” you recite back to a small conversation you had with your capturer before he allowed you to come see Tech, “Cid however…”

“To be fair, I care less about Cid in comparison to you. Too often she has left us in dangerous situations and it isn’t the first time we have had to rescue her.” Tech is pacing now, rambling and talking with his hands. “Death or not, I refuse to let you be taken.”

A tannoy announcement blares, indicating that there’s two minutes to go and that Racers should make their way to the starting line. The two of you look at one another, hearts racing.

You felt a strong connection to Tech, always have done since you first step foot in the Marauder. You were one of the few who would listen to his ramblings and never get bored and of course, he noticed this. At first he thought nothing of it but when you started to callback to previous things he had said, his heart began to swell in awe. His feelings began to fester until they finally bloomed and he was rather smitten with you. Which was why he did not hesitate to come to your aid.

If Tech was going to lose or possibly die in the next ten minutes, he knew he could not live these final moments in regret. Although he is confident and favors himself a 89.45% chance of winning if his plan goes correctly, there is something that could boost his confidence.

He throws his tools and datapad to the side on the workbench, grabs his helmet before he quickly crosses over to you like a man on a mission.

You stumble back a little, the very quick close proximity surprising you. “I am not a man who necessarily believes in luck. In fact, strategy and logistics is my forte but I can not risk this enough to not gain any more luck.”

Before you could even ask what it was he had in mind, his hand is on your waist and you’re flushed to his body whilst his lips ascend upon yours. Your eyes are wide in shock, hands coming up but unsure where to place them so they’re left dangling awkwardly in the air as his eyes knit tightly closed, savoring the feeling of your lips against his. You’re pushed into the workbench, all your senses overwhelmed that you can’t even process what is truly happening. When he pulled away, he let out a shaken exhale.

“That should have done the trick. I shall see you at the finish line.” He nods simply before he moves around you and gets ready to race.

You remain rooted to your spot, dazed but your skin burnt with a glorious glow of blush after Tech, the Tech, kissed you. Although he had gone and is out of ear shot, you whispered a small good luck before making your way back to the private lounge.

After countless tight calls, Tech renders victorious. You had to refrain from cheering in front of Millegi who had a face like a slapped Bantha’s backside. But, a deal was a deal and he sets you free with Cid too.

When you saw him on the big screen, watching the audience cheer for him you almost wept in great pride. Sometimes his work is not appreciated by his brothers but seeing him get the praise he deserved made your heart full.

Once back with them you’re hugging Wrecker and Omega closely and happy to be reunited but as you peer over Omega’s shoulder, Tech stands tall with a very shy expression. “I’ll uh- catch up with you guys in a minute.”

Tech steps towards you, relieved to see you unharmed and very much alive. As if there was any doubt. “I told you I would not allow them to take you.”

“I didn’t think you would.” You smile softly, a blush already creeping up your neck and ears just by being close with him again. You wanted to mention the surprising kiss but your heart would simply shatter if you found out it meant nothing. But, when Tech takes another daring move - clearly on a high after his win - he takes your hand in his and brings you close.

“I’ll take it you are wondering as to why I bestowed you with a kiss… and then abruptly left.”

You tilt your head to the side, grinning softly up at him with hopeful eyes. “You mean that ‘good luck’ kiss?”

He gulps but nods his head. “Y-yes. I am not into cliches but just last night I came across a holomovie where a kiss like this was given. Plus, I can not deny that I have been wanting to-.” He stops himself, suddenly becoming very nervous but you manage to coax him out of his nerves by cupping his cheek, thumb tracing over his finely stubbled jaw.

“Wanted to kiss me?” You push on, eyes gleaming with a longing that could be finalized right this very moment.

“Yes, cyare. To kiss you.” He breathes softly, a goofy grin displaying on his features.

“Well,” you step closer to him, voice hushed and he almost melts at the feeling of your warm breath against his face, “don’t let me stop you from doing it again.”

Without a second to even think, he captures your lips against his own and envelopes his arms around your frame. You sigh into his embrace, letting your lips move along his in a gentle dance that is sure to sweep you off your feet. It’s short and sweet but he whispered a promise against your lips that more on the ship will definitely be on the cards.

He won the race and more importantly, he won you. Could his day get any better?

Masterlist

More Tech Works

tags: @discofern @s1st3r @buddee @taskfork-archive @the-good-shittt @crystal076 @cosmic-persephone @imalovernotahater @swiftiexstarwarssimp @by-the-primes @torchbearerkyle @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @a-c-lee @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @tinyreadersmur @agenteliix @myinnerwonderlandmind @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease e @megafrost4 @theroguesully @equalityforcats @bomboclaat y @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet

[nocturni3]

Bruce Wayne x male reader: Late Night worries

Tw: SFW, soft, comfort, missing Jason, Bruce Wayne inner turmoil, husband reader, slight angst, worrying parents, Tim being worried and frustrated, grief

There are things that a married couple will learn together. Be it giving each other their own space to express themselves, to support them in their struggles and hardships. And yet there is much you can’t learn from the other; something’s you must learn for yourself.

M/n had learned this throughout the years of being married to two different sides of his husband.

The billionaire ex playboy, prince of Gotham…and Batman, the dark knight, savor of Gotham. Both parts of Bruce Wayne as a whole; parts of Bruce that m/n loved. Be it his husband's confidence in showing the city of the good behind his endless pockets of cash. Repairing the city that through the years of the rogue gallery deemed as the prime battle ground to face off with Batman…with Bruce.

Or seeing the Justice his husband brought to Gotham; his endless crusade against crime families to crazed maniacs had M/n worry and prideful as he attended the galas Bruce couldn’t attend knowing his husband was doing far more important things.

And no matter how much he tried M/n couldn’t help but fear the worst every time his husband went out on patrol. Alfred had tried repeatedly to assure him of Bruce’s skills and complete capability to defend himself from the insane masked rogues and petty criminals of the city.

Yet none of the older man’s efforts had worked to ease M/n’s fears as he laid in their shared bed staring out into the stormy skies of Gotham city, staring out at the silhouette of the crime ridden city.

The massive mansion was always the coldest and lone year when Bruce was gone; the bed far too cold to fall asleep alone in, the once comforting silence became deafening.

Even with Barb,Tim and Alfred in the house aiding Batman in his missions wasn’t a comfort to M/n as he laid in the large plush bed alone once more.

Letting out a shaking breath M/n turned in the bed pulling one of the many untouched pillows to his chest, smothering his face into the clean case of Bruce’s pillow and yet there still managed to be a slight hint of his husband's cologne.

For years now M/n had only the reminders of his husband's smell to sleep too; at least until the early morning sun woke the couple up, both tangled in each other's limbs to start their morning together.

But tonight wasn’t one of those nights…if felt just like the night Bruce got trapped on Arkham, and tonight felt worse. Throwing the blanket off from his sweating body M/n slipped on his slippers and night robes making his way to the living room. Switching on the TV to Gotham city news; pouring himself a small glass of bourbon as he stood watching the TV tirelessly.

“Can’t sleep like this; can’t keep worrying like this, he’s going to be fine, he’s always fine-“

-BREAKING NEWS! Billionaire Bruce Wayne thrown in Arkham City!-

🦇~~~~~~🦇

Alfred was in the kitchen finishing up washing the dishes from dinner when a loud sound of glass shattering erupted the once deathly silent manor.

Dropping the dish in his hand allowed it to fall and shatter as he ran to the source of the sound. Only to come across a scene he’s seen far too many times to count.

M/n Wayne on the floor grasping his mouth with one hand as his shoulders shook with each wrecking sob as the replay of Bruce’s ‘kidnapping’ played on the large flat screen. The glass of bourbon shattered and spread all around M/ns now bloodied hand.

“Master M/n! Sir your hand!”

Alfred rushed towards the sobbing wreck of a man. A man who was always withstanding so much from the emences fear that came with master Bruce’s attention being elsewhere as Batman. Fears that would shatter what little resolve would be left after each night.

Crouching to M/n’s level Alfred gently took hold of the shaking and bleeding hand; aiding m/n Wayne to the couch.

“Up you get master m/n, you didn’t get cut elsewhere sir?-“

“B-Bruce-“

Alfred’s eyes softened seeing the desperate look in those once shining e/c eyes. The worried lines that seemed to become a permanent placement. Alfred always knew things would get worse the farther Bruce delved into his crusade on crime in Gotham. That his mission would hurt those around them and it had. It all started with M/n then…Jason.

They lost a son be it through him simply running away or worse no one knew what happened to Jason only that he was gone and the mansion was far to quiet without his and master Dicks arguments during dinner over small differences in plans.

But looking away from the new outlet on Bruce Wayne being trapped in Arkham; Alfred knew as he patched the now cleaned wounds on master M/n’s hands that M/n was hanging on a rope of desperation as he listened to the new outlet speak on the low survival rates of Arkham city…the city with in the city filled with criminals.

“Master Bruce is quite capable of surviving in such a place master M/n; as we both know”

Sparing a glance up at the man in front of him, the bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin from the lack of sleep had M/n Wayne look more dead than alive with each passing major event like this very one.

“I-I know…but I know Bruce too. And that I know that man won’t simply leave; he’ll investigate which will only lead him deeper into danger-“

“That he will and yet we both know he will always find a way to make it through against all odds sir… would it make you feel more at ease if we both help master Bruce on his mission”

M/n would once in a while help his husband on his missions; give Barbara a break away to rest once in awhile. That was before nearly witnessing his husbands death far to many times.

And yet deep down M/n had to make sure Bruce was safe! That he was even still alive-

‘No he’s still alive damn it!’

Looking down at his well bandaged hand M/n watched as Alfred clean the shattered cup up as he awaited an answer.

“I think that’s a good idea…even if it’s just for a short while, can't let you deal with all the hard work now can I?”

Alfred let out a light hearted chuckle turning his body towards the nearest trash can then to M/n.

“Oh believe me master M/n I’ve handled far worse than master Bruce’s rather common nightly actives; though the help would be much appreciated for both our sakes after all I’m not getting any younger”

Smiling M/n tightened his robe against his body before turning the large flat screen off before following Alfred down to the batcave.

“What are you saying Alfred you’re as young as ever”

M/n joked looking over to the far older man who scoffed at his joke.

“We both know that’s a load of poppycock master m/n”

Laughing as they stepped out from the elevator m/n made his way to the bat computer grabbing one of the ear pieces.

“And Alfred this is why we love you, you don’t take shot from no body”

M/n smiled as Alfred took a seat next to him, his fatherly energy filling the cold cave.

“Well I wouldn’t be a very good butler if I did now what I”

“Oh I don’t know your fighting and medical skill would’ve made up for it, alright let’s get started looks like Bruce is…of course he’s getting into a fight with Cobblepot”

🦇~~~~🦇

“So Brucey I see I can’t leave you alone for a night without you getting into life threatening trouble now can I?”

Upon hearing his husband’s joking voice Bruce nearly slipped during his climb up to the Ace chemical building. Before regaining his grip, scoffing as he spoke.

“Oh I would’ve thought you’d get used to my troubling behavior by now”

“Haha, I have…until recently I mean there was the black gate break, than Arkham asylum, now Arkham city I’m seeing a pattern of places and galas I’ve gotta keep your batty self from”

Laughing Bruce pulled himself on top of the roof looking out over the chaos that was ‘Arkham City’.

“Now where’s the fun in that, besides we both know I can’t just let these people run free. Let alone be placed practically in the middle of Gotham”

M/n smiled upon hearing the passion in Bruce’s voice, the strong morality of his husband and the love he had for the city of Gotham. The kind of love and passion he showed M/n in his protective and loving nature out in public or in their manor.

Yet a part of M/n knew there was far more to Bruce’s more protective nature… to a point that M/n couldn’t help his thoughts from drifting to the missing member of their family…Jason.

Ever since Jason had gone missing; practically vanished off the face of the earth had Batman work non-stop in his crime fighting and his search for the second member of their family of crime fighters. Bruce never forgave himself for Jason going missing, blaming himself for the fight they had before Bruce suited up to take Joker back into Arkham.

And argument M/n had to get in the middle of, it was the last night he spoke to the kid he considered as much his son as any one of Bruce’s adopted sons. And yet this sort of lose had the couple continuing their circle of non-stop fearing for their other half's safety.

More reason why both couldn’t stop the other in their duties. Batman was needed in this crime ridden city the two called home. Gotham but even more so Bruce needed Batman, needed a reason to hope for better.

“That’s putting things mildly; after all, me and Alfred have been looking through the schematics and radio channels and it’s all referring to a ‘Protocol 10’. Sent what data I could grab before the firewalls caught on to Barb…Bruce Tim could be a-“

“No”

Sighing M/n looked over to Tim who was in his Robin uniform upon hearing the news, ending his patrols to check on his tired father.

“Bruce we both know I could help you-“

“I said no Jason! I’m sorry it’s just-“

“Just something you have to do yourself yeah I get it; aye pops I’m heading back out call me when…you know”

Nodding m/n smiled sadly to Tim who’s own worried eyes stared at the bags that sat heavy under his pops e/c eyes. As Tim left the batcave to silence was nearly deafening if it weren’t for the few stray bats flying over head.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“I know babe, Tim knows too”

Alfred took this opportunity to go make them some tea for the long night ahead. Leaving the couple alone on call as Batman read over the few documents on encrypted documents M/n had found.

“He reminds me of him sometimes…always pushing, always-“

“Stubborn, headstrong, always willing to push your buttons to get any mission, training, or patrols you can give him?”

“Yeah”

A mournful silence filled the batcave as the couple focused on the work of the impending arrival of yet another long, exhausting night of crime fighting and investigative work.

“Brucey…at some point whether or not we want to admit it…Tim isn’t a kid anymore…he’s not weak, and at some point you have to let Robin spread his wings”

Bruce knew that everything his husband said was true; no matter how they felt Tim wasn’t Jason…Jason was gone; missing or dead for all they knew he could’ve just took off and didn’t look back. Tim wasn’t some kid anymore, he was trained by the best, his future looked bright even past being a crime fighter.

Sighing Batman took off towards the courthouse, the best place to start his investigation was to ask the best thief in Gotham.

“Tell Robin to keep his coms open to any calls of backup…if this nights anything to go off of right now…there more going on here”

Smiling as Alfred handed him his tea , M/n smiled at the screen of countless radio channels between the TIGER guards.

“It’s going to be one long night; be careful, l don’t want Tim to have to bring you back home in a body bag”

“ that’s not going to happen, I’ll make sure if it…love you”

“Love you too…going on stand by”

I hope you all liked a small taste of this one shot! I’ve loved the Arkham series ever since I first played it! Best games ever shocked there aren’t many of the Arkham series based oneshot out there hope I did a good job for the first of many in this new hyper-fixation of mine!

[natrogersfics]

The Anthology - Chapter 4: I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

“What did you just say?”

An amalgam of emotions washes over Natasha as she sits in front of her vanity, watching in horror as the moment Steve grabs a paparazzo by the collar replays on her phone. Concern is at the forefront. As anyone who’s spent even the briefest of moments with Steve Rogers can attest to, it takes a lot to get a rise out of him. And while the words of the photographer in the video are too mumbled to make out, she can only imagine what he must have said to elicit this kind of reaction from him.

Then there’s the worry. While she avoids the online gossip rags on principle, with the clip making the rounds seemingly on every platform, it’s hard not to see. And if she can’t escape it, she doubts that Steve can. People may fawn over him left, right, and center these days, but she’s played this game long enough to know that there are also those patiently waiting for the opportune time to cast the first stone against him regardless of the full picture.

Looming large above all, though, is the guilt. While their filming schedule is winding down, what little days they have left on set have only grown more difficult to navigate. Outside of their scenes, she and Steve haven’t spoken to each other since he’d confronted her on her way back to her trailer that day. Even so, the silence between them is nothing short of deafening. On the rare occasion that she allows herself to steal a glance at him, she can still see all the questions swirling in his face. Questions she knows she owes him answers to, but that she can never give. For in the midst of all those inquiries, she can also see vestiges of what she thinks might still be hope. For what, she’s not certain. All she knows is that it doesn’t matter – it can’t – and that she’s the last person that can ever give it oxygen.

At least, that’s what she’s been convincing herself of every night when she heads out the door with her lips lacquered and her clutch in hand and into the flashing lights of one club. Then another.

It’s for the best.

A sigh falls heavily from her lips. Those four words are ones she finds herself repeating like a mantra more than she cares to admit these days. In theory, she knows that they hold true even when it does nothing to stomp out the deep-seated ache in her chest – especially now, as she looks at the screen once more and takes in the way Steve’s posture has gone rigid, his expression incandescent with anger as he stares the photographer down. And not for the first time since she hightailed it out of his rental that night, she catches herself scrolling through her contacts, her thumb hovering over his name.

It’s for the best.

Just as she’s done every other time, she sets her phone back down, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

“Late night?” The question comes from Melina later on as they sit in the back of a town car enroute to her next appearance. Her agent’s tone is a little too pointed for her liking, and she lets her know as much with a sharp glare. Melina brings her hands up as if in surrender, and she just shakes her head as she leans further back into the headrest, closing her eyes. “Are you okay?”

Like a reflex, her response comes to her in an instant, but she bites it back just as quickly. As the lie hangs acridly on the tip of her tongue, she keeps her eyes shut. She would like to think that after decades in this business, she’d be used to this by now. And she is. Saying what people want to hear. Appearing in such a way that people want to see. All of that became second nature to her long ago – her circumstances behind closed doors be damned.

Nevertheless, every now and then, she gives into the nagging craving to speak the truth. “Does it matter?”

As the seconds drag on and her response goes unanswered, she turns to Melina to see the woman already another world away, her ever sharp gaze trained on the screen of her tablet, taking in the details underneath what looks to be a headshot of a petite young blonde with piercing green eyes. As she turns back to watch the busy streets pass by the window, the humorless chuckle that falls from her lips is one she would never in a million years be able to stifle. “Body’s not even cold yet.”

“Natasha,” Melina says, her tone conciliatory now. “You know it’s not like that.”

The car comes to a stop, the relentless clicks of the cameras flashing away outside audible even through the closed windows. The sound only intensifies as her door is opened, but before she steps out, she pauses to look back at Melina. “Make sure you tell her what this job really entails.”

If Melina reacts to her words, she doesn’t hear or see it as she steps out and onto the carpet. The smile on her face is cut straight out of the glossiest of magazine covers, never once losing its luster as she makes her way towards the hordes of people shouting her name on the sidelines to sign photographs of her own image and to grin into one outstretched phone screen after another.

“Natasha, nice to see you again,” Betty Brand, the bubbly host of E! greets once she finally makes it to the end of the carpet, giving her a kiss on either cheek before holding out the microphone in her direction. “How have you been?”

Without missing a beat, her lips curl up into another blinding smile. “Fantastic as always, Betty. Thanks.”

“Good to hear. So, tell us, who are you wearing this fine evening?”

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 13: širdies

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader word count: 2.2k a/n: this one is a bit smaller than usual and it's a lil uneventful. kind of a filler chapter as i set grounds for the next one lmao first|next

You're not exactly sure when you fell asleep - well, more than likely, passed out, but when you woke up, you found yourself in your room at Pops’ house. It makes sense Marco brought you here. You probably weren't safe in your own place. You had no idea who would come after you or even if anyone would come after you. People didn’t typically know where Pops’ lived and he’s been out of the scene long enough that they should leave him alone for the most part.

You just hoped that they wouldn’t drag him into your mess like you had everyone else.

That, and being alone probably wasn't the best idea. This way Marco could keep an eye on you and make sure you didn't run off. He was well aware of your bad habits; take just the other night for example. He didn’t want to have to hunt you down again. He’d already done that once this week. You only did it once in a blue moon, but this way he could prevent it from happening in the same week. 

You sighed, putting your head in your hands. You weren't even sure how long it had been since you , but it was dark outside. You rolled over and glanced to your tableside; the clock read three in the morning and your phone laid there with a shattered screen. You didn’t even bother trying to see if it worked. Who did you have to get a hold of right now? All you needed was Pops and Marco and they were both in this house. You’d replace it eventually.

But not right now. 

The events replayed in your head. You hoped everyone was able to make it out okay. As much as you didn’t trust Doflamingo or your own father now; Crocodile seemed like the kind of man who would at least keep his end of a bargain. If not, you would unleash hell. You had no problem taking all of them down or die trying.

After all, you had nothing left to lose now.

You sighed, laying on your back and staring at the ceiling. What were you to do now? You didn’t have the hospital. You had gotten Corazon shot. You dragged innocent people into your own mess that you created by being an absolute idiot. 

Why did you think you could have it all? Leaving your father’s family and still keeping a good relationship with him? Being able to have the hospital but also aiding those who were injured and helping others escape from the hell that was that lifestyle with no consequence? 

You were Icarus and flew too close to the sun. Everything you had worked so hard for - gone in an instant.

You felt a headache come forth and you knew you’d cry if you had any tears left at this point. Exhaustion was creeping back into your very being. It wasn’t long before you fell back asleep.

--

The following week, you hardly left your room or your bed. Hell, you hardly even ate. You just didn't have the energy to do anything besides sleep. When you were awake, you were plagued by your own thoughts of what happened and how you have nothing now. It just wasn't something you could deal with - you still had a hard time believing it. It was easier to sleep - especially when you didn’t even dream. It was just an endless black void and you welcomed it with open arms.

Marco basically had to drag you out of bed to make you shower, but you went right back into bed afterwards. He tried to talk to you, as did Pops, but you didn't provide much of a conversation, so they both ended up just leaving you alone for the most part. 

You heard the door open and the smell of food. It made you sick to your stomach, but one could also argue that you probably felt that way because you haven't been eating. “I’m not hungry, Marco,” you mumbled from your blanket cocoon.

“Yeah, he mentioned that you might say that,” a voice mumbled that was very much not Marco - or Pops for that matter.

You sat up quickly, squinting in the dark room to see who it was. You recognized his voice, but you just couldn't believe it for some reason. 

“Rosinante?”

You felt your face heat up and honestly you didn't know why. Quickly, you turned on the lamp on your bedside, hissing at the light. You’d hardly seen any in the last week anyway. “What are you doing here?”

“I might have begged Marco to let me come visit…” The man made his way over to you and that feeling struck you again. You went to move to catch him, only to get tangled up in your blankets and crash to the floor the same time he did. 

“Ah, fuck.” You slowly pushed your way up off the ground, only to realize something.

You froze in place the moment you sat up and realized he was under you. Your entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire. “Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you mumbled, scrambling to move off of him. “Are you okay?”

You remembered his wound, sitting back slightly and lifting his shirt without thinking. “How are you healing?” 

“If you wanted me alone in your room with my shirt off you could've just asked,” he teased, nervously grinning at you with red cheeks. Your eyes widened and you covered your face. 

“Oh my god. I'm so sorry.” For fuck’s sake. A week was all it took for you to forget how to interact with others? 

He slowly sat up, chuckling as he did so. You slid into his lap as he moved, not removing your hands. You were too embarrassed to even look at the man.

He removed your hands from your face and you looked up at him, face red. “I'm healing fine, thank you.” His expression was soft as he took your face in his hands with a gentle smile. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, heart beginning to run wild.

“Are you okay?” 

Then it was as if the floodgates opened. So much for thinking that you ran out of tears because you had plenty now as they started falling down your face. Dammit. Doesn’t he know that he’s not supposed to ask a question like that? 

“I'm so sorry, Rosinante,” you said softly. “I’m sorry that I dragged you into all of this.” You pulled your face out of his hands only for them to find your face again so you had to look at him. You averted your eyes, refusing to look at him.

“Look at me.” His gentle demand made your heart lurch and your gaze shifted to him in surprise.

His expression was still soft, tone still gentle. “You didn’t drag me into anything, y/n.” 

“Y-Yes, I did.” You hiccuped slightly from your sobs. “You were out. You were free from all of this. I shouldn’t have even tried to entertain the idea of us. I should’ve known it’d be dangerous. I’m so-”

“Y/n.” You stopped, sniffling as you looked up at him. 

“None of that is your fault. You didn’t know that your own father would betray you.” Marco had filled him in on all the details of what had actually happened, unbeknownst to you. “You didn’t know that he was going to team up with my brother. You didn’t know they’d take over your hospital and use us as collateral.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing. Yes. I got out, but I also know that things can catch up with me at any moment, just as you do. One can never really leave this life and all that, right?” You just looked at him, trying to find the words to say. You didn’t know why he wasn’t mad at you. He was just…so kind and you didn’t understand. It just felt like it’d be easier if he just hated you, then you wouldn’t have to deal with all these other complex feelings.

“Not only all that, but I still made my decision even after finding out who you were, remember? Sure, it took me a minute. Mostly because I was embarrassed for having made an ass of myself that night. Law was trying to get me to talk to you the whole time. I’m pretty sure he was ready to have my head.” He made a sheepish expression as if he was apologizing to the young man in his head for that one.

“I don’t give a shit where you’re from - I’m from that same place. I’d be hypocritical if I judged you for it. We’re in this together now. I mean. Well, uhm. If you want,” he mumbled, rambling a bit towards the end, his face slowly turning red.

You had stopped crying at this point, honestly just taken aback by his words. Your heart was beating so fast as you sat there, in his lap, with your face in his large hands. You could read between his ramblings. 

He was right, though. You didn’t necessarily drag him into anything. He had been the one to take the initiative. Hell, he was even going to ask him out before your father showed up. You had planned on telling him everything if things did end up getting serious. If he had asked you out that day, you would’ve immediately told him everything. You hadn’t planned on lying to him at all - you believed in full transparency. Especially since he was from the same background as you. 

The way he found out was unplanned, but it was going to happen all the same. 

He had come back. You thought it was only because he found out that you were also the person who saved Law, but he had hardly mentioned that. Law had even confirmed that it wasn’t because of that. It was just shit timing from when they found out and when he was ready to confront all his feelings. Everything seemed to be happening out of order and now you were trying to put the pieces together.

You moved without much thought, kissing him hard. He made a small noise of surprise, but was quick to melt into it. Your arms slipped around his neck as his found their way around your waist. It was getting hot and heavy quickly, but you knew you couldn’t go too far since you were in Pops’ house and you would rather die than get caught by him or Marco.

You pulled away, both of you panting heavily as you tried to catch your breaths. Corazon rested his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. You finally spoke after a moment. “Yes. We’re in this together.” You supposed you should answer the sentiment he had stumbled over earlier.

He chuckled softly, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “Good because I’d be real sad if otherwise.” You snorted, rolling your eyes. He was such a goober, but it was cute.

You thought for a moment, frowning slightly. This was great and all, but…where did you go from here? You could start dating, yes. This was one thing solved. There were still tons of things you had to deal with. You had to get your hospital back somehow. You also needed some answers from Pops. It was time you found out exactly what happened between him and your father. You needed to make sure all your staff were safe. Obviously Corazon and the boys were safe, but you needed to know about everyone else as well.

You had let everything get to you. You had fallen off the deep end, but you were back now thanks to Corazon’s help. Only…you had no idea where to begin.

You suddenly felt him press a kiss to your forehead and you looked up at him. “I can see that big brain of yours is back in business,” he said with a large, goofy grin. You felt your heart start racing again. Fuck, he was beautiful. He stood up, picking you up with him. Luckily for him, Pops was also a very large man, so all the ceilings in this home were tall. He could stand with ease.

“However, it’s late. There isn’t much we can do now. Why don’t you sleep on it, let your thoughts organize, and we can figure things out in the morning, hm?” He slipped into bed with you and you felt your face warm up. 

“If your goal was to get into bed with me the whole time, you could’ve just asked,” you mused, using his words from earlier. This time he went red. “That’s not…uh…”

You laughed, settling into the bed and pulling him with you. “I know, I know. Now c’mere.” You could already feel the exhaustion from the crying and from your brain turning back on. He was right, you needed a good night's sleep before you started tackling this absolute shitshow that you needed to deal with. You’d waited this long, what was a few more hours?

The moment you felt Corazon pull you in and wrap himself around you - you were out like a light.

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